Undergraduate / How I've been a Bridge Builder in High School (250 word limit) NYU Supplement [3]

Hi everyone! I'd really appreciate as much feedback as possible on the final draft of my NYU supplement below. NYU is my dream school so I really want to get this response as perfect as possible. Thank you in advance :)

In a world where disconnection seems to often prevail, we are looking for students who embody the qualities of bridge builders-students who can connect people, groups, and ideas to span divides, foster understanding, and promote collaboration within a dynamic, interconnected, and vibrant global academic community. We are eager to understand how your experiences have prepared you to build the bridges of the future. Please consider one or more of the following questions in your essay:
· What personal experiences or challenges have shaped you as a bridge builder?
· How have you been a bridge builder in your school, community, or personal life?
· What specific actions have you taken to build bridges between diverse groups, ideas, or cultures?
· How do you envision being a bridge builder during your time at our university and beyond?

As an African debater, I'd noticed that my peers seldom competed internationally, their opportunities limited to selective, unaffordable championships. Many talented young oralists from underprivileged and underrepresented countries were experiencing a similar situation. So, I organized an intercontinental Moot-Court tournament free of all barriers characteristic of world championships (cost-free, open to all skill-levels and nationalities, and more) where youth, from Kazakhstan to South Africa, Morocco to the Maldives, gathered to moot and debate children's rights and labor laws. Ultimately, the formal setting unraveled, segueing into animated chatter and conversation. This portion deviated from the schedule and blossomed spontaneously, but I found it as charming as the debate rounds and moot court deliveries. I saw walls crumble and reticence melt away as we shared stories from our very different daily lives and taught each other silly terms in our native tongues.

Through this experience and several others, I realized that most people want to come together but need a small push-and I'm happy to initiate it.

At NYU, I'll be pushing some more. I'm excited to contribute to NYU CEDA's partnerships with the IPPF and Brooklyn Public Library's Bridging the Gap, endeavors wherein I see myself, whether as a volunteer judge or event coordinator, building bridges between different age groups and communities by encouraging dialogue in inclusive debate settings. A baker at heart, I also hope to add a twist to Strawberry Fest, dedicating a segment to taste-testing strawberry-based dishes around the world where backgrounds can be explored through friendly competition.

Undergraduate / My Passion for Helping Children in Need (350 words) - Boston University Supplemental Essay [3]

Hi all! Please take a look at my supplemental essay below. I chose question 1. This is a first draft, so I'd really appreciate any feedback that'll help me improve this essay, and let me know if I've answered the prompt clearly, if things sound cohesive, and what I can do to improve. Also, it says "300 words or less" but the world limit is 350. Just thought I'd mention that. Thank you in advance!

Boston University is dedicated to our founding principles: "that higher education should be accessible to all and that research, scholarship, artistic creation, and professional practice should be conducted in the service of the wider community-local and international. These principles endure in the University's insistence on the value of diversity in its tradition and standards of excellence and its dynamic engagement with the City of Boston and the world." With this mission in mind, please respond to one of the following two questions in 300 words or less:

1. Reflect on a social or community issue that deeply resonates with you. Why is it important to you, and how have you been involved in addressing or raising awareness about it?

Balancing a tray of raw pastries on my head, I walk through Chefchaouen, Morocco. I'm on my way to the Ferrane, the communal oven, and en route, I see a little boy pushing a cart of plastic bottles, selling them for repurposing. I stop him. Then, instinctively, I lower my tray and count 15 pastries, smiling as I hand them to him to bake later.

I've always felt a deep sense of duty toward struggling children because they remain the most helpless members of society, and I've consistently strived to help them however I can.

For instance, in response to the death of 17000 Palestinian children, my friends and I organized an international fundraiser-with an artistic twist. In this fundraiser, donors commission writers for a piece of poetry or fiction. Then, they "pay" for their commissions by donating to the PCRF or vetted Gazan children's/families' GoFundMe's. The project has grown to 112 participating writers worldwide and raised $4625. While this sum isn't huge, I feel fulfilled knowing I'm contributing-even if just a little- to easing Palestinian children's suffering.

Another time, recognizing that low-income children lack the academic opportunities available to others, I tutored over 100 of them for four years. I was delighted every time a student expressed how much more confident they felt sitting an exam following one of our sessions.

To raise awareness about children's rights violations in Palestine, Ukraine, and Congo, I organized an intercontinental moot-court tournament. UNICEF workers delivered speeches emphasizing the importance of protecting children and expanding on their situation in the aforementioned countries. Then, participants competed in moot court rounds, where they delivered legal cases advocating for violated child plaintiffs. Many competitors contacted me afterward to express their newfound understanding of the issues discussed.

With having privilege comes responsibility, a duty to share our goodness with the less fortunate. War-torn and poverty-stricken children will not disappear, but we must still do what we can to alleviate the burdens they carry all alone. "One child saved is better than zero" has always been my motto, and I look forward to continuing my advocacy at Boston University.

Undergraduate / The Ideological and Emotional Interconnectedness of Humanity: Common App Main Personal Statement [4]

Hi everyone, I'd really appreciate a fresh perspective on my essay and as much feedback as you can think of. Thank you :)

Some students have a background, identity, interest, or talent that is so meaningful they believe their application would be incomplete without it. If this sounds like you, then please share your story.

An anime trailer plays on Spacetoon, a pan-Arab children's television channel. Intently, I watch. I was eight but could still somehow fit in a high chair I had been attached to since infancy. A velvety voice reverberates around the room, narrating as a black-cloaked character leaps around the screen like a ninja. The voice addresses the enigmatic figure. "You are them, but you are not," it rumbles.

I didn't contemplate the philosophical implications of that statement-I was eight. I vividly remember it only because the narrator's voice was so charming that I had decided I must marry him, and to think it would be an accurate reflection of my childhood identity was unexpected.

I grew up as a Third Culture Kid, that convoluted term sociologists use to describe the citizens of everywhere and nowhere. I was a walking oxymoron stuck in limbo, going tongue-tied when people asked where I was from. What do I say exactly? Options spun through my mind: A) Your birth country, B) Where you've lived the longest, C) Where your parents are from, or D) Your ethnicity.

Option D was an enigma of its own; see, I'm North African of all things, and for a people so remarkably diverse, it's unsurprising to feel imposterous when clumped into one. A serpent whispered me a poser when I claimed my African identity, because I didn't look like what the world deems "African." It hissed the same when I claimed my Indigenous identity, because although I spoke Tamazight, I had the heavy "Arabized" accent and my blood was only a quarter Amazigh. Finally, it declared me a catfish when I huddled behind my Arab identity, because while my Roman nose gave the notion some credibility, that wasn't sufficient to bridge the chasm of differences separating North Africa from the Middle East.

I was a cultural drifter tenaciously seeking association with one group or the other.

Later, when I was 11, I began reading 50 pages every day. I started simple, enjoying children's fiction, but with time, reading cemented my descent into the world of "collective human culture," as I now dub it. I was enraptured by the complexity of old Nordic religion and its concept of the composite soul, dazzled by the eloquence of Homer's epics and Arabic Mu'allaqat, captivated by the mystique of Shikibu's tales of the Heian Japanese aristocracy, and enchanted by the commanding presence of Gothic architecture.

I basked in all that makes humanity breathe and sing, and one evening, when I was 17, a spark ignited my mind. I read, I saw, I thought about mankind. Fundamentally, we dwell on one spiritual plane, therefore humans are more interconnected than disparate. The history of the Norse is a history of all of us, just like Spanish Flamenco is the passion of us all. Vermeer's oils on canvas are paintings of all of us, just like Mahmoud Darwish's poetry is the emotion of us all.

Ultimately, the thirst of our souls is quenched by the same things, and our passion soars with the same wings; the arts embody what every human feels and what every human is.

If even mankind in all its immensity is a hive rather than a miscellany of disjointed colonies, connected so profoundly through different forms of human expression, then my various identities adhere to mankind's nature too, I gathered that night. I'm everything but I'm not nothing, and I needn't desire a connection to one singular aspect of myself when all the groups I kin sing to the tune of human nature in butter-smooth unison. Today, when I'm asked the formerly dreaded question of my origins, I confidently say I'm Arab, American, African, Indigenous, and a citizen of humanity all at once, because within each of my identities dwells a soul that thirsts for the same prose and poetry, paint and music, history and philosophy, and all that makes humanity spectacularly human.