Growing up in Oakland, California, was not without its challenges. My parents, immigrants from Cameroon, arrived shortly before my birth. At home, I spoke French, only learning English when I began school. Fortunately, I excelled academically, earning the coveted label of a "gifted and talented scholar." This label, though a source of pride, also burdened me with expectations that I allowed to define me for many years to come. With the "gifted" label came the decision for me to attend a private school, and I was granted admission to the prestigious Head-Royce School on scholarship. It was there that I became the outsider, one of just a handful of Black students in my grade. Even among Black students, I struggled to fit in due to differences in socioeconomic status stemming from my low-income immigrant parents. Though we all may have been Black, I was the only one who was African, on scholarship, using food stamps, and working part time from the age of 14 years old. In addition, the academic rigor presented a new challenge. Doubts about whether I truly deserved the "gifted" label began to creep in, and through middle and high school, I grappled with feeling isolated and out of place. My college years ushered in hope. I entered believing that I could excel both academically and socially. I embarked on the pre-medical track, fueled by dreams of a career in medicine. Throughout college, I carried a demanding, science-heavy course load fueled by dreams of a career in medicine. Yet, I faced subtle but pervasive misogyny in my lab experiences, as my ideas were often ignored by male peers only to be rephrased as their own. My struggle also extended beyond academia; I worked full-time, juggling up to three jobs at a time, all while participating in student orgs. I was pulled in countless directions, and eventually, the weight of it all began to take its toll. A series of unfortunate events, including a traumatic sexual assault, my parents' marital woes, and several deaths in my family impacted my grades. Yet, despite all, my journey has made me a stronger person and a more thoughtful peer. In addition to my academic pursuits, my lifelong commitment to community service drove me to found my non-profit organization, Grace Period, at 15 years old dedicated to ending period poverty in the Bay Area, starting in my hometown of Oakland, CA. Oakland has one of the highest rates of homelessness in the country and we are facing a homeless epidemic, and thus a menstrual equity crisis. We accomplish our goal of ending period poverty through direct distribution means to homeless encampments and shelters. We have successfully impacted over 500 individuals and donated thousands of menstrual hygiene products, including, pads, tampons, wipes, painkillers, heating pads and more. Through this initiative, I have gained firsthand insight into the power of grassroots movements and the potential for legal advocacy to address systemic issues. My work with Grace Period has not only underscored the urgency of achieving menstrual equity but has also inspired my current efforts to create a sustainable line of pads and tampons, further emphasizing the role of innovation in effecting social change. As a low-income African Black woman accustomed to navigating diverse environments, my perspectives on race, gender, immigration, and socio-economic status will enable me to contribute significant and unique perspectives while in law school. I believe I am a great fit for this scholarship opportunity because of my hard work and potential, and because despite the hardships I have faced in life, I have never stopped striving for greatness.