Essay Category:
Essay Question:
Personal Statement (no particular prompt)
I met Joe on my weekly visit to the AIDS ward of Cook County Hospital in inner city Chicago. His smeared technicolor makeup, shoulder-length hair caked with sweat, and painful facial contortions lent his visage a bizarre, almost frightening quality. I sat in his cramped room trying to initiate communication, while he emitted only wheezing guttural sounds. When he opened his mouth, I anxiously leaned forward to hear any impending word. Instead of speech, vomit spewed forth, running down his clothes and into his bed, splattering on my face and hands. Repulsed, I called for help and reached to find a towel. As I washed myself clean in the adjacent bathroom, glad to allow the nurse to assist him, the words struck me: Love your neighbor as yourself. A backward glance revealed Joe still laying helpless, gurgling in his own vomit; the nurse was occupied with other more urgent tasks. And who is my neighbor? Surely not him, surely not Joe, a transvestite infected with HIV, stained and dirty. Joe's eyes, full of tears, met mine. I spent the next half-hour at his side with a washcloth and wastebasket. How sobering that having heard over 2000 sermons and Sunday school lessons in my day, I needed a confrontation with someone in great distress who differed radically from myself in order to truly understand the Parable of the Good Samaritan. The experience forced me to realize that loving my neighbor requires transcending social and racial boundaries, crossing borders of class and lifestyle, to serve those my culture tells me to reject. As with the Samaritan who helped his sworn cultural enemy, the call to service impels me out of my immediate community to assist the Other in need. This counter-cultural re-orientation of values is awkward, difficult, and sometimes dangerous, but essential to the preservation of justice. I am alive today because of people who acted upon the truth of the Good Samaritan. My great-grandfather, Isaiah, narrowly escaped the Armenian Genocide of 1914. His family murdered and village destroyed by Turk militia, Isaiah embarked on a perilous journey out of Turkey, across the Middle-East, into Egypt, and ultimately to the United States where he found safety. Isaiah, whose story has profoundly affected my ethnic identity and passion for justice, would be merely an obscure, faceless victim of genocide, discarded and forgotten, were it not for the many strangers who made his survival possible. I think of the 'Good Turks,' as they're called in Armenian parlance, who rejected the treacherous orders of their government and helped Armenians escape from Turkey. I think also of Arab Muslims who were willing to shelter a penniless Christian from Armenia as he fled his homeland. In both cases, the generosity of the Other, whose assistance overcame cultural animosity and religious differences, enabled my present existence. The passion for international justice that drives my desire to study law may be traced back to both an intellectual understanding of the call to love my neighbor and an inner motivation to give to others what others gave to me-that is, life, safety, and freedom. Poet John Donne notes that 'no man is an island; any man's death diminishes me because I am involved in mankind.' If I am to love my neighbor as myself, I should, like Donne, resonate with each tolling of the bell as if it were my own. The cries of those straining under the yoke of oppression compel me to spend my career pursuing justice for my many neighbors. Fervency is necessary, but not sufficient, for liberating the oppressed. Studying law represents the natural culmination of my past experiences and provides the training essential to my future ventures. I expect a rigorous law school education to deepen my love for the rule of law and to hone the skills necessary for expert legal advocacy, thereby giving hands and feet to the force that drives me.
Essay Category:
Essay Question:
General personal statement
As I stepped off the plane and the sun glared in my eyes, I immediately realized that my jeans and college sweatshirt were not appropriate attire for Mexico's steamy July heat. While the sweat began to cover my brow, I became acutely aware that I was thousands of miles away from my safe existence in small town Indiana. Understanding the foreign language being spoken around me was a difficult task, but despite my apprehension I knew that this was the first step towards my quest for independence. Moving to Mexico required me to leave the comfort zone that my parents provided. Prior to this experience, the thought of actively partaking in the lives of those less fortunate had not crossed my mind. My limited perspective was the result of not being exposed to culturally diverse environments. From my experience in Mexico I have come to realize that I have gained a new perspective, developed a stronger sense of responsibility, and strengthened my desire to practice law, all of which will enhance my potential as a law student. Before visiting Mexico, I had the misconception of arriving into a city where donkeys roamed the streets that were filled with poverty stricken individuals. Upon my arrival in Monterrey on the campus of Tec de Monterrey, to my surprise I observed what appeared to be a typical college campus. It was not until traveling further south outside of the city limits that I truly witnessed the existence of a poverty-stricken Mexico. While in that environment, I observed a disparity of wealth that appeared to be impossible by American standards. There has always been the saying: 'The rich get richer, while the poor get poorer,' but even this old adage did not seem to capture the severity of the situation. In one area there were college students living comfortably with air conditioning, running water, and various other amenities, while two streets away there were families of seven living in a one room shack with an outhouse and no electricity. It was very common to see several generations of one family begging in the streets. Filthy children would lie on the street corners starving while their mothers begged pedestrians for pesos, and the grandmothers would sit still with a cloth over their faces in order to protect themselves from the scorching heat radiating from the midday sun. The problem, as I view it, arises when the growing sentiment of the upper class is under the impression that impoverished individuals lack in success because they are lazy and choose to live the way that they do. The fact remains that it is very difficult to advance up the socioeconomic ladder in many foreign countries. In most cases an individual is either born rich or poor, and despite socioeconomic membership it is plausible that the circumstances afforded to future generations may remain the same. In Mexico there is a noticeable lack of social programs that adequately assist and educate the people, and the quality of education is wholly dependent upon one's social class. Average citizens do not receive a quality education and are not provided with many opportunities to improve their well-being. Witnessing the inequalities in Mexico allowed me reflect on my native country. Although I live in a country that has a strong economic system, there are still individuals, such as those in Mexico, who are uneducated and underprivileged. I found myself having a strong desire to advocate for persons who were thousands of miles away from my home, and even more so for those persons at home who at one time I failed to consider. I began to see how limited my perspective on cross-cultural environments had truly had been. As I gazed out of the airplane window while returning to Indiana, all of the thoughts, feelings, and emotions that were inspired by the past year of my life raced through my mind. The desire for me to carry my new found passion and use it to assist others has become unwavering. Since returning from Mexico, I have been working as a tutor for Hispanic children who have just arrived in the United States from Mexico. Their lack of a strong educational background is evident as they not only have to learn English grammar and reading skills, but they have to review their Spanish grammar and spelling as well. Although I enjoy tutoring my students, my dedication to making a lasting impact on the lives of many directs me to the study of the law. I believe that it is a country's responsibility to ensure that all of its citizens have access to a proper education. A career in law is an essential tool that will assist me in achieving my goal of working to build a more egalitarian society. I am determined to stand up for the rights of various races and cultures that may not necessarily obtain a 'fair chance' in our society. Not only do I now believe that it is my duty to assist the less fortunate, but I feel a strong obligation to do everything I can to ensure that they are given the same opportunities that everyone deserves.
Essay Category:
Essay Question:
Personal Statement
The roots of leadership often find nourishment in the process of translating personal struggles into public gains. As a junior in high school, I was hospitalized for anorexia. An erratic diet and use of weight-loss pills had left me dehydrated and malnourished. Though I maintained a fairly normal weight, I was destroying my body. After three weeks in a recovery program, I approached my state representative with the suggestion that Missouri ban the sale of over-the-counter diet pills to minors. I had researched my position and found that printed Food and Drug Administration warnings stated these pills were not intended for use by those under 18. The few studies examining the effects of phenylpropanolamine (PPA) on children consisted of a combination of computer simulations and estimates based on drug reactions of smaller individuals. My representative drafted a bill while I summoned support from such interest groups as the Missouri Parent Teacher Association (PTA) and the Missouri Nurses Association. Their approval proved more instrumental than I had imagined; the drug companies sent a team of Washington lobbyists to Jefferson City to testify before the State Assembly against the idea of a high school girl. In the year it was proposed, a state senator translated my suggestion into a bill mandating instruction about the dangers of diet pills in all Missouri high school and junior high health classes. Despite a warm reception from most Representatives, the plan was not assigned a priority level high enough for the State House to consider it during floor debate. In the fall of 2000, after the third introduction of my proposal, the FDA suggested the removal of PPA, the primary diet pill ingredient against which we had fought, from the market. While I was satisfied with the resolution of my endeavor, I found that my work had left me with a hunger for further political involvement. Just as knowledge cannot grow substantially without examination of diverse ways of thought, one cannot fully develop her ability to lead without moving beyond her individual experiences. Issue advocacy comes easily to those who have been personally affected by the social ill they seek to remedy. While advocacy of increased funding for Alzheimer's research is an admirable endeavor for any person, those untouched by the disease would rarely think to dedicate time and energy to such a cause. True devotion to public service shines when leaders are able to recognize the needs of society beyond their realm of personal experience. Representative forms of government depend on the assumption that those chosen to speak for a people will consider the needs of others from different backgrounds. With this knowledge in mind, I began to branch out from the realm of my personal experience. I gradually stepped from dealing solely with eating disorder prevention advocacy into the broader spectrum of children's mental health issues. Through various experiences with public officials, I adopted concerns such as development of municipal infrastructure, public housing, and mass transportation plans. Over time I delved into more nuanced debates over ratification of an Equal Rights Amendment, the role of standardized testing in allocation of public school funds, and the constitutionality of federally supported faith-based social service organizations. The founder of Methodism, John Wesley, explained his personal spiritual enlightenment by recalling the sensation of a 'still, small warming in my heart.' I see the growth of my desire to participate in public service as that type of gradual development. Unfortunately, I have discovered that some people would have preferred my advocacy efforts to stagnate with my original experience advocating eating disorder prevention. Journalists interviewing me after I received a Truman Scholarship lingered on my diet pill story. Though I struggled to move beyond discussion of anorexia to explain my fervor for issues I have recently embraced, the promise of creating a human-interest story overpowered my insistence on being portrayed as more than my past. I found myself wondering what differentiates leaders who continue allowing a single characteristic to define them from those who move beyond a one-dimensional caricature of their existence. Former Missouri Senator Tom Eagleton admitted to receiving psychological treatment for depression. Similarly, Winston Churchill spoke frequently of his personal battles with the black dog of depression. While their ailments were comparable, the public received their confessions with vastly different levels of acceptance. Eagleton was shunned and replaced as a Vice-Presidential candidate while England entrusted Churchill for leadership through the last great war. Why were they treated so differently? A significant reason for the discrepancy lies in public opinion concerning the two men's coping mechanisms. Eagleton received shock therapy, a relatively uncommon practice; Churchill's 'cure' of physically building stone walls was viewed as more productive. I understand the stigma attached to seeking psychotherapy that Senator Eagleton encountered. Too many others battle the scandal and misunderstanding that frequently accompany mental illness. Currently I do not know whether a public defense position or an elective office will better enable me to serve those in need of relief from this oppressive attitude. I only know that I see a need and desire to help.
Essay Category:
Essay Question:
Major Essay
"My fear is that you're selling yourself short." David's sincere expression tempered his words, but still I bristled. He went on, "everyone goes to law school." And so it began: an after-work head-to-head at a Grammercy cafi, four hours on one theme - why I shouldn't go to law school. My challenger was David Robinson, an author and political scientist who co-founded the organization I've dedicated myself to for almost two years. David is the kind of person any young professional would be honored to have as a mentor; he is accomplished, connected and most importantly, seems to genuinely understand me. We have counted on each other for honest debates about everything from the shareholder-worker balance in the New Economy to the meaning of global democracy. From his first words, I realized that debating this new challenge - my own future - would be uniquely taxing, but the truth is, I welcomed it. For throughout my life, dialogue and exchange of ideas has been the soul of my education. It began in the crowded Chicago public schools where I grew up; my favorite teachers would indulge me in long conversations after hours until my mother got off work. I was only eleven years old when I left home for a boarding school in rural Western Massachusetts, but the intimacy and rigor of that immersive academic environment was just what I needed to thrive. Through high school I counted teachers among my closest friends. At Yale, where faculty-student relationships were more rare, I found a brilliant peer circle. We lived and studied together, challenged and taught each other-- in the liberating new discipline of cultural studies and in theater, where we directed ourselves in productions every semester. After more solitary experiences living in five different cities since graduation, I have rediscovered an intellectual community at the organization I work in now, and hope to find another in law school. But first I had to convince David, and myself, that law school was the right decision... Our conversation flowed from the personal to the political and back again. David insisted that the life of a lawyer is arduous and demanding. I agreed, but cited experiences - like running a business in a foreign country and caring for children - that were no less of a challenge. He complained that the cause of social and economic justice doesn't need any more lawyers. "You've studied culture and worked in media. You understand film and television, which are these incredibly powerful resources that we need to harness," David said, hands wide and gripping the air. I smiled across the table at this Ph.D. political scientist who doesn't own a television set. "Well, I did spend the year before I met you in Hollywood, David. I know the six people there who want to use the media for social change, and when I told them I was leaving to work at a think tank, they practically packed my bags for me." We laughed, but I didnt disagree with his argument. I had moved to Los Angeles believing that popular narratives from Hollywood shape Americans sense of themselves and the world in more powerful ways than do edicts from Washington. But against the backdrop of major political and policy upheavals, including the start of the Iraq war, my film career seemed an inadequate tool, and I returned to policy. "So fine," David ceded, sitting back in his chair. "Ill shut up. You tell me why I should support this decision." I decided to use a familiar application. "Take, for example, the issue weve been working on -- household debt. It's such a multi-faceted trend, and the more parts of it we understand, the more effective we can be. My education and experience have helped me grasp some of the dynamics, such as the cultural issue of consumerism; the way that finances function in families, and the structural economics behind inadequate incomes. But two huge factors, the business model and the legal and regulatory framework, are outside my reach now. This is just one example, but I could give you dozens more issues where a legal education could make me more effective." David then made the very accurate point that there are others who have a legal education. I laughed. "So you're saying that I don't have to know it all? I hope I never accept that! I will have been out of school for 4 years next fall. I'm ready for the next level of intellectual rigor. I want to learn to speak an entirely new language, to begin to master a whole new system of thought..." and so it went on, until the wait staff was putting chairs on tables around us. We settled the check and headed towards the subway David would take uptown, and I to Brooklyn. As we shook hands goodbye, he said, "The truth is, I can only really tell you to do what I've done. That's the only sure path I know." "I guess thats the trouble with mentors," I said, and he grinned. Over the next few weeks, I went over our conversation again and again. Doubts advanced and then receeded, only to return. Had I defended my position well? Was there something missing? And worse, was he right? The thought that I could make a major decision and have it not be the right one, as David seemed to believe, was stultifying. Every leap I've ever made - from leaving my family 1,000 miles behind at age 11 for an educational opportunity, to deferring my creative pursuits in favor of more direct public service - has enriched my life. As a rule, I refuse to know regret. But in the past two years, my life has acheived a focus that, I began to worry, may have narrowed my margin of error. I feel certain now in what I must accomplish in life. Had that very commitment raised the stakes to the point where I could actually choose wrong? Doubt about the future, I must admit, was a new and unwelcome sensation. And then, one quiet evening, I settled on David's first assertion, and found it flawed. He had initiated the conversation by saying that going into the law would be selling myself short. I thought of all the dreams I've had, my talents and all that I have yet to learn. Running through everything is the need to understand this country and its people, and to help bend it towards its highest ideals. The law is not the only system that guides us; it works in concert with culture, economics, and religion, to name only a few. I am applying to Boalt Hall because the school has recognized the evolution in legal studies and practice, and encouraged the inclusion of other disciplines. I believe that Berkeley, more so than other schools, offers the clinical experience, curriculum diversity and mentorship opportunities that would help me determine how best to pursue my goals as a lawyer. I am also very interested in applying to the Jurisprudence and Social Policy program during my first year of the JD. The program is uniquely well-suited to my interest in public policy issues of regulation, economic fairness and public finance, among others. Having graduated from college at 20, I have to keep reminding myself and others that Im only 24. I must study and practice the law; it is a deep compulsion that I have felt for as long as I can remember, and which grows with my commitment to social justice. But in a complex world, the modern lawyer is improved with every additional discipline she masters. To assert that the choice to attend law school limits the impact I can have in the world is in fact selling myself, and the law, short.
