My first taste of the limelight came in the summer of 2008, when I was described as a “pink ball of effervescent energy” in the local newspaper coverage of my elementary school’s open house. I was quoted as saying, quite eloquently, I like to read. This simple statement has remained true throughout my life, even if the genres and subject matter have shifted over time. At the time of my first public words, I was convinced I would someday become a veterinarian—a dream I held for many years, until I discovered that animal fluids make me queasy.
Around this same time, I participated in a thrilling school debate about Jack and the Beanstalk. The question was whether Jack violated the giant’s right to privacy by trespassing on his property and breaking into his home. Although I’ve explored many interests since then, this debate has always stuck with me—not just because of its silly nature, but because of how it made me feel. If you were to ask my family, why I enjoyed this activity they would say “she loves to argue”. There was something deeper to it though. I loved asking questions not just about how things ‘were’, but also ‘why’; how does something become truth? This exploration felt like something I could sink my teeth into, and as a ten-year-old it was exciting. I wanted to better know the world.
I think most people, unless they’re incredibly lucky, experience at least one moment in life when they’re uncertain about what to do but know they must keep moving forward. For me, two of those pivotal moments led me to the Bolz Center. The first occurred during my early college years. I spent my first year and a half taking courses in a little bit of everything. I even briefly revisited zoology, hoping a career working with animals as a caretaker would be less messy than being a veterinarian. However, I quickly realized that biology wasn’t my strength, and I found the literature a little dry. Eventually, after transferring to the University of Wisconsin-Madison, I came back to Jack and his legal dilemma. In hindsight I realized that I enjoyed asking and answering difficult questions that didn’t have clear answers.
That’s when I turned to Political Science, an area where analyses and discourse rarely have one right answer. For the first time in years, I read books for class that I actually enjoyed, and I felt free to explore all the questions I had. After graduation, I spent the next year studying for the LSAT. But when it came time to apply to law school, I hit my second point of uncertainty. While I had initially wanted to become a public defender, I saw that the legal field is highly competitive and cutthroat; that wasn’t the type of work environment I wanted for my future.
I spent the next year reflecting on what I truly wanted. I knew I wanted to ask questions, to try and get to the bottom of the seemingly unknowable truths. I wanted to find a place where I could help and do tangible things to aid in solving all the problems my questioning uncovers. I wanted to continue this journey of questioning but also, I needed to help provide answers and almost exactly one year after receiving my LSAT results, I began my journey at the Bolz Center.
In the Bolz Center, I found a place where creativity is nurtured and encouraged. Art, much like politics, offers no single right answer; it’s deeply tied to the human experience and constantly challenges us to question everything around us. The skills I’ve gained here have equipped me with the knowledge I need to pursue the mission-driven work I didn’t realize I was seeking. Moving forward, I hope to apply the lessons I’ve learned over the past seven months to keep asking questions and creating spaces where communities can come together to ask their own questions—without the expectation of a right answer.
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