I came across a Facebook post framed in crimson and gold. Someone from my country had been accepted into the Harvard Graduate School of Education. They boasted about their achievement and promised to deliver “world-class education” for those buying their consultation services. The same people who had forced my generation into exile, war, and death were now thriving, living out their bought dreams at the cost of us. These people who had systematically denied students the chance to complete high school, blocking university enrollments and opportunities to study abroad, were now sending themselves and their children to elite institutions. I closed my phone and sat in silence, thinking about my friends from school. Like me, they had left the state system to join the Civil Disobedience Movement, but were never given the same chances. One had dreamed of becoming a doctor; now he works as a butcher to support his family. Another, after losing both parents, labors as a porter. Some joined the resistance and never returned. Even those in private schools scrambled to enroll anywhere that would take them, desperate to escape forced conscription and ransom kidnappings. I had escaped, but was I truly making the most of the chance they never had? At that moment, I felt the weight of my choices. Being here while having my classmates still in the war, mourning their families, or imprisoned felt like betrayal. My mission was not over just because I had escaped. I owed it to those who never got the chance. The shoes I wanted or the legos I saved up for can wait. A can of coke $3 here, can be a full day meal for those left behind. With the money I saved up to get a car, I poured it into another semester of paying out of state tuition. Since returning to school, I have helped other students find the support they need to rebuild their lives and education. As a senator, peer mentor, and club president at College of San Mateo, I advocated for refugee tuition rights and organized academic, career, and mental health workshops. I ran a housing network of 100+ students, arranged airport pickups, and connected them to job opportunities. I made sure no one had to face the challenges I once faced alone. With the support of my peers, I founded Free Burma Associated Students, a grassroots organization built on the belief that our fight for freedom does not end abroad. I recruited 50+ students across 4 colleges, leading fundraisers, cultural events, lectures, and peaceful demonstrations to keep our movement alive. Serving as an organizer with the Free Burma Action Committee, I raised $80,000+ through bazaars and solidarity events to support bombed and war-affected communities in Burma. In 2025, I organized the Yaung Ni (Light of Hope) Live Concert in San Francisco, featuring exiled Burmese artists. With a team of 50+, we brought together 1000+ attendees and raised $140,000, of which $100,000 went to humanitarian aid. As a scholarship reviewer for the Suu Myat Than Foundation, I evaluated 150+ applications and helped award $25,000 in scholarships to 26 students from the Civil Disobedience Movement. This scholarship would allow me to continue my education without being consumed by survival. Every hour I spend struggling to afford tuition is time taken from learning and serving others. With financial stability, I can focus on my studies and take one step closer to the institutions we were once denied. I hope to attend Brown or UChicago to study statistics and political science, to return with the knowledge and tools to create change for those left behind.

In 2021, Myanmar’s military staged an unlawful coup. I was imprisoned twice at seventeen for protesting the regime. To pay my ransom, my family gave up their life savings and sent me to the U.S. for a second chance at life. I arrived with a suitcase half full of cash and half full of promises. Quickly, I found myself juggling low-wage jobs, out-of-state tuition, and the burden of supporting both myself and my sister. During one of the hardest periods, I dropped out to work full time—until I saw a junta official proudly announce their acceptance to Harvard. The same regime that buried my generation in prison cells was now claiming to “rebuild” our nation through elite education—reserved only for their loyalists. I knew then: education must become my weapon. I returned to college, majoring in data science, adding economics and political science to better serve my people. I joined the Free Burma Action Committee and led fundraisers that raised $10,000 every other month. Then, I founded a student-led organization that hosted a Revolution Concert, raising $110,000 for Myanmar’s internally displaced people. Last semester, I ran out of savings and worked 60 hours a week. My grades suffered, but I never gave up. The First Generation College Scholarship would lift that burden. Every hour it frees me from survival will be poured back into service—so I can study, lead, and help rebuild a country left behind by the world.