Growing up, one of my favorite TV shows was The Looney Tunes. While most people had an affinity for Bugs Bunny or Daffy Duck, I had an unusually close connection to Porky Pig. My parents gifted me a Porky Pig stuffed animal on my seventh birthday, and he meant the world to me. Not only was Porky my favorite pillow, but he and I also shared the same speech impediment: a stutter. In middle school, Porky became my first audience. I rehearsed conversations, presentations, and even jokes in front of him, always leaving him speechless. With the help of Porky and speech therapists, I challenged myself to step out of my comfort zone every day. Initially, it started out with me having casual conversations with strangers in the cafeteria line. And eventually, I gained enough confidence to be able to speak anywhere. I quickly realized that, similar to how Porky’s existence helped me voice my truth, I wanted to do the same for others. With this in mind, in high school, I began an initiative with a classmate to offer free public speaking workshops for inner-city Dallas youth. We brought together the speech captains and executive board of a dozen schools in local Dallas districts to organize a 12-week public speaking workshop for middle school students. Most of the students we worked with came from schools that were already lacking both middle and high school speech and debate programs. That’s why our goal was to encourage enough students to join their high school public speaking programs in order for their district to increase more funding for the public speaking programs. Beyond just the Debate teams, our students stepped into the school play, Model United Nations, teen court, and even Slam Poetry Club. It was an incredible feeling to be a part of the reason why nearly a hundred kids felt confident enough in their conviction. When I began my freshman year at the University of Michigan, I realized my interests lay at the intersection of finance and community impact. I became curious about who decides where funding goes and which programs endure. I wanted to be a part of the decision-making process to understand the root of various opportunity disparities. After working in finance internships over the past few summers, I specifically grew interested in real estate development. I wanted to focus on projects that increased access to quality housing and community spaces. Seeing how a school district responded simply from student participation showed me how far a small action can go to create institutional disruption. I hope to build that proof into the places people call home. Although Porky passed away months ago in the washing machine, I still think of him in small, fleeting moments. The workshops we led in Dallas were never just about teaching argumentation; they were about helping students find their voices, just as I once found mine. Pursuing higher education in business is my next step in scaling that impact. Just as Beatrice Dias championed higher education and worked to equalize the playing field, this scholarship would allow me to deepen my academic growth and engage with complex business and real estate idea. In turn, I hope to reinvest that growth into the communities that shaped me. Ultimately, I hope to ensure that future generations of youth feel equipped to claim their place in this industry.

Growing up, one of my favorite TV shows was The Looney Tunes. While most people had an affinity for Bugs Bunny or Daffy Duck, I had an unusually close connection to Porky Pig. My parents gifted me a Porky Pig stuffed animal on my seventh birthday, and we shared the same speech impediment: a stutter. In middle school, Porky became my first audience. I rehearsed conversations, presentations, and even jokes in front of him. I challenged myself to step out of my comfort zone every day, starting with small conversations in the cafeteria line. Eventually, I gained enough confidence to speak anywhere. I realized that, just how Porky helped me voice my truth, I wanted to do the same for others. With this in mind, during my sophomore year of high school, I began an initiative with a classmate to offer free public speaking workshops for inner city Dallas youth. We brought together speech captains and executive boards from over a dozen schools across local districts to organize a 12-week workshop for middle school students. We spent weeks developing curriculum that balanced academic rigor with interactive activities. Most of the students we worked with came from schools that were already lacking both middle and high school speech and debate programs. Our goal was to encourage enough students to join their high school programs so their districts would increase funding. The results surprised us. Not only did our students join speech and debate, but they also joined the school play, Model UN, teen court, and Slam Poetry Club. Nearly a hundred students chose to raise their hands. It was an incredible feeling to be part of the reason why so many felt confident enough in their conviction. Through these formative experiences, along with conversations with mentors and upperclassmen, I began to see a larger pattern: the same way my bedroom became a safe place to strengthen my voice, entire neighborhoods depend on spaces and systems that allow their people to grow. Behind those spaces are financial decisions that determine what gets built and what moves forward. When I entered the University of Michigan, I knew I wanted to explore finance early on. As a junior analyst for Michigan Stocks and Bonds, my first pitch came from the fixed income desk, where my team and I presented a catastrophe bond and highlighted its recession-proof qualities and high risk-adjusted yield. I was struck by how natural disasters, seemingly unrelated to finance, could alter a bond’s value. Last summer, at an energy-tech focused venture capital firm, I was entrusted with drafting a convertible note for one of the firm’s SPV investments and researching portfolio forecasting tools to improve exit planning. These experiences showed me how capital allocation shapes real outcomes. Although Porky passed away months ago in the washing machine, I still think about him often. Overcoming my stutter was one of the most difficult obstacles I faced in childhood, and even years later, those moments remain vivid. The workshops in Dallas were not just about teaching kids to speak, but about helping them build the confidence to be heard. After graduation, I hope to work in debt capital markets, helping fund the schools, hospitals, and local programs that quietly shape confidence in the next generation. Just as I once needed a safe space to find my voice, communities need financial backing to build theirs. Through finance, I hope to stand behind the decisions that create those spaces, ensuring that future generations of women feel empowered to claim their place in the industry.