As a child, I was loud, brazen, and fearless. These traits of mine were not innate, but rather necessary adaptations that I developed from protecting my twin brother, who was diagnosed with autism early in life. Being my brother’s defender throughout my childhood became an integral part of who I was and honed my instincts to speak up for those who could not always advocate for themselves. Ironically, although I had the strength to defend my brother, I later failed to advocate for my own protection.

During my sophomore year of college, I found myself trapped in an abusive relationship. My boyfriend at that time began to give me ultimatums with subtle demands, such as insisting that I change my appearance and lose weight to keep our relationship. This behavior quickly escalated as he threatened to spread lies about me if I were to ever reveal his true nature to others. Within a few months, he had coerced and blackmailed me into severing ties with my friends and family. I became paralyzed by the fear of retaliation and consumed by shame, no longer seeing an avenue out of my circumstances.

Thankfully, our relationship eventually ended. Shortly after, I was shocked when multiple women approached me to confide that they had also been sexually harassed and threatened by my ex-boyfriend. As we shared our stories, it became clear that we all had nearly identical experiences and were part of a larger pattern of manipulation and abuse. However, as we tried to speak out, my ex-boyfriend’s “nice guy” reputation granted him unwavering support among our peers and resulted in their immediate defense of him when hearing our stories. Despite our diverse Asian backgrounds, we all faced similar cultural barriers shaped by our parents' immigrant experiences. They advised against taking action, fearing it would jeopardize our futures and undermine the stability they had worked hard to build. As a result, we were expected to drop the issue, uphold family honor, and to save face.

Our attempt to seek legal advice further highlighted the complexity of our situation as the attorneys we consulted proposed initiating a high-profile class action lawsuit. While this approach seemed like the obvious choice from a legal standpoint, it failed to account for the complex cultural and ethical considerations that are fundamental to our familial values that shaped our decisions. Privacy and discretion are highly valued in our family, and public legal battles run counter to the traditional values of maintaining harmony and avoiding shame. When we expressed this concern, the lawyers insisted that a class action lawsuit was our only option and refused to consider alternative approaches.

Witnessing how standard legal practices failed to offer culturally appropriate options for marginalized communities was eye-opening, and I came to understand that achieving true justice demanded advocates who could skillfully navigate both the intricacies of the law and the nuances of different cultures. Driven by this realization, I explored the intersection of law and cultural competence, which led me to author a law journal article on the Violence Against Women Act. This experience revealed the legal and cultural barriers immigrant domestic violence survivors face and solidified my commitment to becoming a civil rights attorney, working directly with vulnerable individuals to challenge unjust laws and advocate for systemic change.

My experience as a judicial extern in Seattle after college further expanded my perspective on the challenges faced by immigrants in the legal system. In one instance, I witnessed a defendant with limited English skills unknowingly plead guilty, having been falsely promised leniency by his public defender. When the defendant realized this and explained it to the judge, I was horrified to see the judge refuse to reconsider their decision. This experience not only echoed the institutional failures I had written about but also deepened my understanding of how multiple layers of the justice system could fail vulnerable individuals beyond domestic violence cases. Seeing these systemic failures firsthand, I felt compelled to address these issues on a community level. I now volunteer at a domestic violence shelter, where I help distribute meals and lead workforce reentry workshops for mothers.

Witnessing these injustices firsthand ignited my passion to become the advocate I once needed, transforming cultural barriers into the foundation of my commitment to advocacy. My experiences have shown me that justice is not just an abstract concept but a necessity that must be pursued with precision, empathy, and unwavering determination. Law school is the next crucial step in equipping myself with the legal expertise and cultural understanding needed to advocate effectively for marginalized communities. As I embark on this next chapter, I am focused on applying the lessons I have learned to make a tangible impact. With a commitment to meaningful change, I am determined to advocate for culturally sensitive legal practices so that justice becomes not just a distant ideal but a lived reality for all.