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A portion of Allison's winning essay:
Sixteen, summertime, scorching heat and glorious Italy. A rebellious
teen, having the opportunity to travel overseas without parents promised
adventure. Pope John Paul II invited young people from across the world to
Rome for the bi-annual celebration of World Youth Day. I swung the cab's
door and took my first steps on the ancient streets. Unknown to me, the next
time I would enter a taxi, my life would be affected by a war that had
surely only taken place on my television.
As I toured the city, an American flag, a patch spotted on my backpack,
became cause for celebration. The fast and loud dialogue of an unknown
language coming from a group of teens became focused in my direction. I was
startled as this group began to gather around me. "American? American? You
can help us?" was the question one girl asked. Her expressionless face
quickly turned into excitement when she received my answer.
Unlike me, I learned these teens would never be returning home. Their home,
Kosovo, no longer existed as it did in their memories. Having gained
special permission from their government to travel to Rome, they had
promised to promptly return after World Youth Day. Surviving years of death
and terror their heartbreak had not yet ended. These children, mirror
images of myself, planned to remain in Italy. Secretly saying goodbye to
their family and friends, they would not be returning to their refugee camp.
Grabbing my backpack to offer some financial assistance, she shook her
head-signaling no. Her desperation ran deeper than my pockets. Her request,
"Tell your President about us," about the families living in refugee camps
under horrifying conditions. In regret, I failed at explaining I was only a
kid! I felt there was nothing I could do to help. The Kosovar teen,
pleaded, "Do not forget us, do not forget me when you go home." These words
would bury themselves deep into my soul and echo through both my heart and
mind.
This overwhelming experience traveled back with me to the U.S. My
foundations had been rattled, and I saw my own life in a new light. How
could the injustice these displaced people endured be permitted to occur?
The refugees had asked for my assistance because they understood even a
child in America had a right to speak freely without fear. If strangers
from a foreign country understood better than I, my powers as an American,
what other powers did I have? What other injustices could be invisible to
me? A critical lens of questioning had been created and it was unstoppable.
Opening my closet door no longer became an activity for picking a wardrobe
but for researching where my clothing was manufactured. I learned how to
track on the Internet where my shirt had been from its birth in Burma until
its arrival in a suburban Detroit Gap. Once-enjoyable trips to the mall
became a sickening experience, as I felt betrayed. The friendly brand
names I once pledged my complete loyalty to were now tainted by the reality
of their sweatshop manufacturing practices and advertising that preached
value in material, not people.
In an interconnected world of globalization, simple solutions rarely exist.
Yet, a first step must be taken when human abuses occur. The apathy and
ignorance that permit inequality must be challenged. The United States, as
a country that prides itself upon opportunity for all, must challenge
attitudes that permit disparity. An ideological dichotomy is alive within
our country. This ideology assumes that because the Constitution states,
"all men are created equal," all have corresponding access and opportunity.
Assuming this equity exists for all is dangerous. When people are unwilling
to question the status quo, they shut down opportunities that may further
true equity. Not only in the classroom must the presumption of a
preexisting equity be challenged, but this presumption must also be
challenged by the choices and lifestyles of people who seek justice in a
complex interconnected world of globalization.
Narrowing my scope of activism, I now choose to educate those around me to
the dynamics of power that permit injustice. To educate is to lead,
expressing knowledge that furthers society. To lead is to educate others
out from a darkness; out from a veil blind to oppression. To be educated,
is to see the world in a new light. I believe seeing the world in a new
light will lead to positive change.
I hope to be a lawyer that leads by challenging invisible injustice. The
injustices that some have been blind to, while others have consciously
ignored. Decisions made in the U.S. Judicial System historically and
currently touch all aspects of life. From plights of poverty, freedoms of
speech and battles of business, each individual's reality can be affected.
Yet, many violations go unchallenged, as some victims feel unable to fight
these battles. By tolerating the hopelessness of casualties and the
victories of villains, one accepts chaos. Lawyers must actively choose to
work against chaos, as they have the ability to set standards and educate
their communities.
I experienced the power a lawyer's expression can have when charges of
reverse discrimination were brought against the anti-hate campaign I
introduced as vice president of my university's, Student Senate.
Specifically, the predominately white, male social fraternities felt my
campaign, "10 Ways To Fight Hate, " adopted from the Southern Poverty Law
Center, was hostile towards white heterosexual males. The fraternities,
speaking before the Student Senate, demanded that the campaign cease being
funded by the Senate, it be banned from our campus, and that I be expelled from
the Senate. With many supporters by my side, I defended the importance of
the campaign and won.
However, my most important lessons were learned in the aftermath. Our
community's public sphere erupted with dialogue; strangers now had a
personal opinion of my campaign or me. My words were quoted in print and on
television, my in-box was a nightmare and one group's protest against the
Student Senate's decision in my favor made CNN's Headline News. I
understood that having the power of a lawyer allows an individual to
publicly express a perspective. If permitted this power, one must work
cautiously and purposefully, as a lawyer's expression may greatly impact a
community.
Power and Freedom: I learned the meaning of these words at an early age.
Fatefully encountering the Kosovar refugees helped me to understand the
impact of a story and allowed me to view the world from a different
perspective. In our meeting I not only saw the fear that existed in their
eyes, but I felt their pain in my own heart. For the first time in my life,
I not only understood intellectually what it means to be disenfranchised,
but in feeling their fear I learned solidarity. When I stepped onto the
plane to leave Italy my walk had moved onto a new path. Although the
refugees asked me for help, I was the true benefactor of our meeting. With
each testing step along my path, I have been overwhelmed with too many
reasons not to turn back. To become a lawyer is not my ultimate goal, but
to defeat systems that oppress other's freedoms would be a good start. I am
dedicated to never forgetting the forgotten. In my lifetime roadblocks may
impede realizing my ultimate ideals of true justice and true freedom. Yet in
hope, roadblocks do exist with purpose: to pass through, not to go around,
not to avoid and not to obey.
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