From the minute my parents told little 7-year-old me that our family was moving halfway across the globe to Saudi Arabia, I knew my life would change completely. As my father accepted a job with one of the largest oil companies in the world, I would say goodbye to the vast majority of my freedom, and hello to arguably the most conservative and repressed country in the world. I had no idea what my life would be like, who my friends would be, what I would do for fun, and who I would become. It was terrifying, yet exhilarating.

I was born into an Army family in Georgia, who then picked up and moved to Louisiana, Texas, Virginia, and Florida before finally making the move overseas when I was eight. I was used to moving, making new friends, and readjusting to a new way of life. However, nothing could have prepared me even close to enough for the new life that would await me on the other side of the ocean.

Life was undeniably different from the second I stepped off the plane in Saudi. I was surrounded by people who looked nothing like me or my family, speaking a language I didn’t understand, and acting in a way I wasn’t used to. In a matter of 24 hours, I went from being part of the majority population to the minority. People stared in confusion, and I don’t blame them. What business could a blonde, American family have in a country that so openly opposed them? Out of all places in the world, how did we end up in Saudi Arabia? To this day, I only have an answer to the first question. I’m unsure of how my family ended up in the Middle East, but I’m beyond grateful that we did.

My parents raised my brother and me to always be open minded, caring, and to take an interest in global events. Instead of watching mindless cartoons every afternoon as children, our mother made us watch the news with her. She would explain to us that the world wasn’t as good of a place as we thought it was, but it does have the potential to be great. She would tell us about how there were bad people doing bad things to innocent families, and that we should never take advantage of how much freedom we had. As a young child, I brushed this off. I thought, “well, that’s the rest of the world. It doesn’t impact my life, so I’m not worried about it.” It would only take a couple of years for me to realize how absolutely wrong that was. In the years following my family’s big move, I would learn more about poverty and class division than I ever could have back in the United States. I would learn about gender inequality, repression, infringement on basic human rights, and a culture so different from anything I had ever witnessed. Although it was difficult for me to adjust and accept what the reality was, I grew to love Middle Eastern culture with a passion. The food, the customs, the holidays. All of it grew on me.

One of the best parts of living overseas was having the opportunity to travel. On weekends we would drive two hours to Bahrain, long weekends we would drive to Dubai, and vacations were spent in Europe. Service trip opportunities were plentiful and greatly encouraged. By the time I was 14, I had gone through two passports, been to over 20 countries, and was near proficient in Arabic. I was living what could easily be considered the perfect life. I got to see a different side of the world that most people never get the opportunity to, and I tried appreciating that as much as a 14-year-old could. When I finally made my way back to the States my freshman year, I went through reverse culture shock. I was now what what considered a ‘third culture kid.' I was raised in a culture that was different than that of my parents’, thus making what I viewed as normal and expected entirely different than people my age back in the United States. I was undeniably different from the other students, but I found my place easily. I quickly found myself surrounded by people who weren’t nearly as aware of what was going on overseas as I was, and I was shocked by that. This is where my goal in life truly formed.

I had always known I wanted to help people, somehow, in my future. I had gone on multiple service trips across Asia and to South Africa, and I saw firsthand how brutal life can be for developing countries and areas. I witnessed repression in its purest form. The protests and riots in Bahrain and Egypt happened just hours from where I called home. My friends’ families were stuck in the middle of all the mess. I knew I needed to do something to help the world become a better place because I was so tired of seeing pain, struggles, and sadness on others. As I spent more time back in the States, I realized how easy it was to completely disregard the news and just live in a fishbowl. I finally said enough my junior year, and got involved with Model United Nations so I could be surrounded by individuals who seemed to care about the same things I do. I didn’t settle there, however. I started asking the difficult questions about current events in my history and philosophy class, writing papers about what was going on whenever I could. I still wasn’t satisfied. It was at this point that I realized my goal was something much larger. At the end of my junior year, I finally came to the realization that my dream was to travel the world and work with developing communities to better their quality of life. To this day I hold that goal close to my heart.

It’s difficult to explain to most people why my goal is what it is. Most people roll their eyes, some laugh, others look at me like I’m crazy, and a select few actually congratulate me on having a goal so large and seemingly unachievable. However, I’ve never let this get me down. I use it to fuel my ambition and motivate me, I use it to strengthen my faith that I can reach my goal one day. My goal terrifies me, but I wouldn’t wish for it to be any other way. I’m excited to see what the future holds for me. More than anything, I just want to see what I can do to this world. I don’t care if I die and no one remembers my name, I care if I die and no one remembers the changes that came about because of my actions.

I've been beyond lucky to have been given these opportunities and experiences, and I wouldn't trade them for anything in the world. Who I am revolves so heavily around my time overseas, and for that I am forever grateful. I love sharing my story, not for the sake of attention, but because I think that the lessons I've learned are some that everyone should hear.