It was pitch black. I was struggling so badly that I could feel droplets of sweat appearing on my forehead. I had a stick in my hand, and I was trying to navigate my way through a maze. My only hope was following the voice of the blind guide but I seemed to have already lost him. An instant coldness filled my body; fear was paralyzing me. I was starting to understand what it meant to lose something you have taken for granted: your sense of sight. Even though I was aware what I was getting into when I signed up to be a part of the Dialogue in the Dark, I wasn't expecting the feeling of helplessness that came with it. I’d been volunteering at the Six Dots Foundation for the Blind as a teacher for blind young adults, but that day was the first time I was able to start grasping their situations. Only when you lose something do you truly understand its worth.

Would you rather lose your sense of sight, sense of hearing, or your freedom? A day without democracy was similar to a day in the dark: July 15, 2016. It all started around 10 p.m.. The bridges were shut down for the public and soldiers swarmed the streets. I was transfixed in front of the TV, confused, as if someone had turned off the lights permanently but hadn’t warned us of anything. A few hours later, members of the Parliament were taken hostage. A council ironically named “Peace at Home” had taken over a news channel and proclaimed that a faction of the Turkish military had made a coup attempt against the government. A female newscaster was forced to read their proposal; her eyes were shining with tears, much like my own. I’d never been in a situation like this, but my parents had; they were my blind guides in this darkness. My mom began calmly counting the food in the fridge while my dad tried to explain the politics of the situation to me. I couldn't catch up; I couldn't register what they had understood so fast. I started feeling the same helplessness I felt when I was losing the tour guide. I was hitting the walls with my stick, and the distance between me and my guide grew with each passing minute.

As I heard F-16s flying over my apartment, barely missing the roof, deafening sounds rang in my ears. I looked at my parents' terrified faces; they tried to tell me that the loud noises were coming from sound bombs that were intended to scare people off the streets. That day I faced the threats of not going to be able to fly back to school, of not being able to go outside, but most importantly, of losing the democracy in my country. That day I saw people lose their lives for democracy.

And then suddenly the lights were back on. The coup attempt had been repelled. At that moment I understood what it means to lose something I had taken for granted throughout my life: my freedom.

I learned to overcome fear by focusing on the difference I could make to improve the situation in Turkey. I believe that only education and economic prosperity can beat terror. As a result, I’d like to focus on social impact in my college education and work in the newly emerging field of Social Entrepreneurship in the future. I would like to continue and grow my NGO, the Give A Hand Organization, while also working to benefit the Cambridge community. I can achieve this dream at Harvard through courses such as “Practicing Democracy,” where I can put theory into practice, or gain non-profit experience through numerous fellowships, such as Mindich Service Fellows Program. As an aspiring international lawyer, the future Liman Public Interest Law Fellowship is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I am motivated to work harder each day because my experience does not let me forget that there are people who live with the fear of war and unrest, and they do not have the power to change things the way I do.