At 17, I juggle academics, student leadership, national youth summits, and a TikTok following of over 125,000—but when the phones are off and the notebooks are closed, I’m just a girl navigating pressure, learning to dream louder, rest braver, and lead with purpose.

I started posting on TikTok at the end of Grade 9. Back then, it was just a fun way to document my academic journey, without giving it much thought. I was just sharing my experiences, study tips, school struggles, moments of burnout, and small victories. I didn’t expect my content to reach people, let alone resonate with them. 

Now, as an incoming Grade 12 student, that same account has grown into a space with more than 125,000 followers, and comments have started to pour in. People told me I inspired them, that I helped them pass their exams, and that I made them feel seen. It made me realize that this platform wasn’t just about aesthetics or algorithms—it could be about impact.

What began as random posts of my study sessions and notes turned into something far more meaningful. I started getting messages like, “Ate, because of your videos, I passed.” “You’re the reason I didn’t give up.” “You made me believe I could be smart too.”

And that changed something in me.

I’ve been managing my content creator life—brand partnerships, edits, shoots—often in between deadlines and school responsibilities.

There are days when I film content after school, write articles at night, and then wake up early for academic readings. There are weeks when I feel like I’m being pulled in five different directions by people who expect me to always be “on.” There are times I’d study for a research defense while scripting a sponsored video. And sometimes, I’d question myself: Am I doing enough? Am I still learning? Am I still leading with purpose?

I also face pressures, something that people don’t always see. Behind the scenes, I’m not just a content creator, I’m also a student journalist, an executive officer, a Model United Nations (MUN) host, and a youth advocate. I’ve joined research congresses, run for student council, and participated in nationwide events like the National Mathematics Competitions. I struggle with impostor syndrome. Sometimes, I feel guilty about my own success. It’s a lot.

But I’ve learned to treat myself with grace. I lead not because I’m perfect, but because I understand what it means to keep trying.

I think that’s what leadership really is.

Through all of this, my “why” keeps evolving, but it always circles back to service—to be the voice for those who are still finding theirs. Whether I’m speaking at MUN, running a community project, or replying to a follower who says, “Ate, your video got me through a rough week”—that’s the heartbeat of what I do.

I’m not here to just go viral. I’m here to prove that influence can be meaningful, leadership can be soft yet strong, and being young doesn’t make our voices any less powerful.

This is my story. Being a student leader is not about having all the answers—it’s about asking better questions. It’s about showing up even when you’re scared. It’s about fighting for your community, but also for your own boundaries.

When people say I’ve helped them, I realize it’s a two-way street. They’ve helped me, too. They’ve helped me understand that I can be soft and strong. That I can post study vlogs one day and write about climate resilience the next. That I can be a leader, even when I feel like I’m still figuring everything out.

My story is about using that visibility to remind others, especially other students, that their voices matter. That it’s okay to rest. That inspiration doesn’t have to come from perfection, but from authenticity.

I’m still growing and still learning. But if my journey can make even one person believe in themselves a little more, then maybe all the deadlines, ring lights, and quiet battles are worth it.

Because I’m not here to chase clout.

I’m here to lead—with light.