Manny and Sylvia Weiner Medical Scholarship

“How do you heal the embedded traumas of a community? To feel deeply and connect.” This philosophy guides my pursuit of medicine. My journey began in India, where my parents, raised in a lower-middle-class family, faced diseases like malaria and tuberculosis, while mental health was a distant concern. Despite these challenges, my parents created a safe space for my sister and me, believing that quality healthcare would offer us a better life. Our family’s first physician played a pivotal role in shaping my view of medicine. Her clinic, filled with the familiar smells of jasmine and sounds of Vedic chants, felt like home. She addressed not only our physical ailments but also our emotional and social struggles, guiding us to community resources and advocating for our well-being. Her holistic approach and empathy left a lasting impression on me, and I aspired to provide that same kind of care someday. When my parents made the difficult decision to immigrate to the United States for a safer life, we faced new challenges. Moving frequently in search of economic stability, we felt disconnected, and the stress took a toll on us. Compounding this, our native dialect, Marathi, was uncommon, creating language barriers that isolated us further. Despite these hardships, I remained committed to my studies and my dream of helping others, drawing inspiration from the sacrifices my family made. At age seven, I fell seriously ill, and my parents rushed me to the emergency room. There, we met a physician who, much to our surprise, spoke Marathi. His cultural humility, similar to our physician in India, immediately eased our worries. He diagnosed me with acute bronchitis but didn’t stop at treating the physical symptoms. Instead, he connected our family to local resources, bridging the gap between us and our new community. This experience showed me how powerful a physician’s connection with their patients can be and opened my eyes to the impact of cultural empathy in medicine. Today, as a Crisis Intervention Specialist in Willowbrook, Los Angeles, I find myself sitting with families experiencing trauma, seeking understanding and connection. In this role, I listen to their struggles and guide them to the resources they need to thrive in their communities. I witness firsthand how embedded traumas can fracture lives, and how healing begins with someone willing to hear and validate their experiences. It’s a privilege to offer that, but my goal is to do even more as a physician. My journey toward becoming a doctor has been full of challenges, but I’m grateful for each one. Every obstacle has taught me persistence, empathy, and the importance of representation. The emotional weight of working with underserved populations is significant, but it pales in comparison to the fulfillment I feel when I see a patient begin to heal. Witnessing their vulnerability and progress reminds me of why I want to dedicate my life to this work. Through my personal experiences and professional journey, I understand the importance of having physicians who are culturally aware and deeply invested in their patients’ well-being. As a future doctor, I aspire to bridge the gap for patients who feel disconnected from the healthcare system, offering them the kind of care that has shaped my own life.

In my homeland, people brave treacherous journeys across the Atlantic Ocean on rickety wooden boats, seeking a better life in Spain. Most vanish, perish, or face repatriation by Spanish authorities. Fortunately, my uncles defied the odds and arrived safely. Accessing healthcare in my homeland often entails traveling long distances and enduring lengthy waits for misdiagnoses and steep medical bills. My 18-year-old cousin fell victim to medical negligence. To secure their family's well-being, many from my homeland must sacrifice by seeking opportunities abroad. My father did just that when I was four. Growing up in Senegal, I understood the inevitable prospect of emigrating to join my father. Though I cherished the close-knit community in my beautiful homeland, the absence of adequate healthcare drove this reality. At 14, I relocated to the United States, leaving behind my mother and six-year-old sister. Little did I know that I wouldn't see her again until she was a teenager. The goodbye was heart-wrenching, and I faced an uncertain future on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean. My experiences were far from the Hollywood portrayals in movies like "Coming to America." The initial months were marked by homesickness and sadness as the familiar streets of Senegal gave way to the bustling, foreign environment of Harlem. The tug of war between Senegal and New York was disorienting, with my ties to my homeland gradually fading. I dedicated my first summer to learning English through online courses, news, and library books. Enrollment in an international school for my freshman year allowed me to study English as a second language, providing comfort among fellow Senegalese and international students. In college, I encountered housing insecurity, financial hardship, and imposter syndrome, straining my academic performance. Despite financial aid, I struggled to acquire necessary school supplies. To make ends meet, I juggled three jobs each semester. Nevertheless, I still cherished the values instilled in me by my upbringing, where communal meals fostered a sense of community, hospitality, and support. In college, I embraced these values, serving as a board member for the African and International students associations and founding an organization to support underrepresented pre-med students. The COVID pandemic, which claimed some of my family members in Senegal, prompted my involvement with the Foundation for Healthier Senegal. As a health fellow, I collaborated with medical professionals to establish a community health system, aiming to diagnose diseases and prevent outbreaks like Ebola. Through global volunteer efforts, we successfully raised funds to build a clinic. My diverse background, experiences, and passion have equipped me to be a compassionate and conscientious physician, as well as a community leader, advocate, and mentor. As a physician, I aspire to draw on my personal experience of moving to a new country at the age of 14 with no more English proficiency than a kindergartener. This experience has shaped my commitment to understanding the challenges faced by patients who may not speak the same language or who struggle to navigate the healthcare system. Moreover, having faced financial hardships in my own life, I am dedicated to lightening the financial burdens of patients who lack insurance or the means to afford their medications. I will actively work to streamline this process and connect patients with resources that can help alleviate their financial stress. Having worked closely with cancer patients, I recognize the importance of being a compassionate listener, offering solace, and healing not only their physical ailments but also their emotional well-being. I am dedicated to being a supportive presence for my patients, providing both medical care and a comforting ear to address their concerns and heal their souls.

One can say that being a minority is one of the most difficult things to be in this present time. Yes, it is difficult, but we must use it to our advantage. No one understands the pain of being turned down from institutions or having to work five times harder than the person next to you for the same position. Not only do I live in the Bronx, but I am also a Hispanic woman. Growing up I was taught that this world is not going to work to my advantage, but I would have to take the obstacles and learn from them. In 2016, I transferred to an all-girls Catholic high school in the Bronx, that is run by predominately Caucasian people and had few staff members who were minorities. My parents did not want me to attend the public high school I was zoned in to and worked extremely hard to pay for the expensive tuition. In order to be admitted into the school, I was put through several tests and interviews so they could determine if I was a "good fit”. There was one incident where I asked to be placed in an Italian class rather than Spanish because I am fluent and have spoken it my entire life. I will never forget the remark and the face the dean made. She said, " The problem is...We do not know if you speak Spanglish at home, so therefore we believe you need to be placed in elementary Spanish.". I was shocked when I heard that and from that point forward, I knew I had to prove to her not only am I fluent in Spanish but am an excellent student who should not have opportunities taken away from me. Two weeks into the school year, my Spanish teacher approached me and asked why I was placed in her elementary class. She then allowed me to take a diagnostic test and based on the results I was placed in AP Spanish Language my sophomore year. The dean never apologized for racially profiling me, but I did not need her apology. I appreciate my first Spanish teacher, Ms. Bravo, who allowed me to prove myself, saw my potential, and didn't let it go to waste! This situation allowed me to see what my mom always told me, to use my obstacles as an advantage and to learn from them. The dean represented all the privileged people that I would face who would judge me based on my appearance and ethnicity. Every day minorities are troubled with the fact that they are “less” than their competitor, which is not true. It hurts knowing that although we are all human and have the same goal, the person who isn’t a minority will be able to succeed even though they did not work as hard as we did. Overall, what I learned was that I must work diligently and not let others bring me down to reach my end goal of one day becoming a doctor. Although I am nineteen years old and will be a Junior at Baruch, I am still learning how to overcome personal challenges on the road to becoming a doctor. One way I conquer the obstacles I face is by staying true to myself and focusing on what I want to become. By motivating myself every day, I feel one step closer to being the doctor I’ve always dreamed I’d become. With this scholarship money, I will be able to pay my academic expenses and will worry less about one more thing on my road to success.