Doe Lake Park has three hiding spots: under the picnic tables, inside the graffitied tunnel, and beneath the play structure. The neighborhood kids and I spent our Friday evenings in these top-secret locations, attempting to prolong our stay at the park. Huddled together, we exchanged hushed whispers and conspiratorial smiles-- our dadis and abuelas could ​never​ find us here. When they grew frustrated, threatening us with their worn flip-flops and c​ happals​, our giggles invariably gave us away. In the...

On Fridays, the neighborhood kids and I met at Doe Lake Park. With our tree-branch wands and haphazard flower-crowns, we became wizards, princesses, and everything in-between. It didn't matter that we spoke different languages at home or lived in different parts of the neighborhood. We played as one, unified whole. At Doe Lake Park, with my group of “neighborhood kids,” I felt like I was part of a community. Therefore, I’ve always perceived parks as spaces that unite people,...

Despite the sub-60° weather (frigid by California standards), I felt ‘warmth’ when I arrived at *insert school*—emanating from the campus architecture, the businesses on Thayer Street, and the students on the main green. At *insert school*, I will strive to build communities that embody this ‘warmth.’ As a member of Disability Justice at Brown, I will advance efforts to establish a campus-wide center for neurodiverse individuals. Using my experience with neurodiversity advocacy, I will ensure that the proposed Disability...

As a child, I loved reading auto-biographies. In the confines of my bedroom, I could become immersed in the worlds of "sure-shot" Annie Oakley and the notorious Al Capone. Over time, this interest has developed into a broader fascination with how others perceive the world. Through Brown's Open Curriculum, I can explore perception on multiple levels, from the structural to the chemical. By concentrating in sociology, I aim to analyze the overarching social systems that influence people’s perspectives, specifically...

I live in Somethingtown, California, a city of sprawling country clubs and ruthless PTA moms. After my dad sold his garage start-up--the archetypal Silicon Valley “big break”--we left our community of black and brown for Somethingtown, a monolithic sea of white. In this shiny, new city, I felt distinctly “other,” like I was donning a cheap disguise-- clothes that didn’t fit right, hair that wouldn’t sit smooth, and a name that wasn’t me. However, over the...

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” Throughout elementary-school “All-About-Me” presentations and Thanksgiving dinner conversations, I’ve dodged this harrowing line of questioning. The truth is, I don’t know the answer. While I’m fascinated by the entrenched social structures that divide us, I’m also curious about the neural processes that underlie the human brain. Therefore, when I read the subject-line of my e-mail from *insert college*-- Explore-- I felt a surge of excitement;...

Al Capone and Annie Oakley live in my dad’s office. They sit on my dad’s decrepit, 10-by-10 bookshelf, alongside biographies on Abraham Lincoln and Bill Gates. From childhood, I’ve explored the worlds contained within these hardback-bound pages. Sprawled on my bedroom floor, I learned how the Quaker upbringing of Annie Oakley inspired her to defy gender norms. I discovered that Al Capone’s meteoric rise to mob boss was dependent on an existing underclass of Irish immigrants....

"I asked myself what style we women could have adopted that would have been unmarked, like the men’s. The answer was none. There is no unmarked woman." - Deborah Tannen At my first debate tournament, the judge stated that I was too “emotional,” and I subdued my voice until it no longer sounded like me. While organizing my school’s March For Our Lives walkout, I tempered my statements-- “I think” instead of “I want” -- after I was...

As a five-year-old, I discovered the magic of baking. I peered breathlessly into my EasyBake oven, watching the batter transform into fluffy, domed cakes or misshapen monstrosities. How could motley ingredients—eggs, sugar, flour, leavener, and butter— morph into such creations? This curiosity, the desire to explore how ingredients complemented and opposed one another, led me to spend hours experimenting in the kitchen. While I’m no Mary Berry, I’ve found my own skill in baking: the ability to...