Abner & Irmene Memorial Scholarship

Growing up, I never experienced the stability of a traditional family. Before I was born, my father faced legal troubles that led to a 13-year incarceration, followed by my mother’s eight-year sentence when I was just an infant. My earliest memories revolve around sterile visiting rooms, where the clinking of metal glass became a haunting soundtrack. I couldn’t understand why I was separated from my parents, and each visit left me with feelings of anger, sadness, and confusion. The absence of my parents was a constant reminder of a system that failed us, and as a child, I felt helpless against forces beyond my comprehension. As I navigated my childhood alongside my twin brother and older sibling, I faced additional challenges. My older brother took on the role of protector, but he too eventually fell into legal troubles, further fracturing our family dynamic. These experiences could have hardened me, but instead, they ignited a desire to seek justice—not just for my family, but for others facing similar injustices. My identity as a first-generation immigrant added layers of complexity to my situation. I often felt the weight of expectations, as I navigated a new culture while grappling with the emotional turmoil of my family’s struggles. This unique background instilled in me a resilience that I drew upon when I decided to pursue a career in law. I was determined to change the narrative for families like mine, those caught in the web of a flawed justice system. I began researching wrongful convictions and volunteering at local legal aid clinics. These experiences revealed the systemic issues that plagued our legal system, fueling my motivation to advocate for those who couldn’t afford representation. I immersed myself in debate teams and mock trials, even though I sometimes lost interest; my drive always came back to my family’s plight and the desire to advocate for others facing similar battles. The lessons I learned throughout this journey have had a profound impact on my life today. I realized that adversity can be a catalyst for change, not just for oneself but for the community at large. My past has given me a unique perspective on justice, one rooted in empathy and a deep desire for reform. I aspire to be the advocate my family never had, fighting for the voiceless and raising awareness about injustices that often go unnoticed. Becoming a lawyer is not merely a career choice for me; it is a calling. I am determined to ensure that no one else endures the pain my family faced. I want to empower future generations of students, especially those from immigrant backgrounds, to find their voices and advocate for justice. My past has shaped me, but it does not define me; instead, it propels me toward a future where justice is truly blind, and I am ready to stand up for those who cannot stand up for themselves.

My experiences as a child of immigrants from an underrepresented tribe in Nigeria, as well as having my pain dismissed due to my race drive me to create medical services that value equity and inclusivity. In Cross River State, Nigeria, lies a rural village called Bendi. This is the village of my people whose culture and language are going extinct. With such little global influence, my people have limited medical resources and representation. Therefore, I am passionate about my role in meeting the needs of this community and similar communities in the world. A personal memory I have of encountering this issue was at a sixth-grade summer camp. Instead of enjoying the waterslides, I was curled up in bed enduring immobilizing pain from menstrual cramps. When I went to the medical professional on-site and explained my symptoms, he remarked, “You don’t look like you’re in that much pain.” This was the first moment I recognized that being Black and Nigerian were not just labels, but apparatuses for how I experienced life. I found it emotionally jarring that due to bias and media misinformation, this framework negatively influenced my interpersonal and medical interactions. I channeled my emotions surrounding that experience through art and it helped me discover my enthusiasm for creation. Years later, I made the connection that art can be used for both my healing and the healing of others. Furthermore, art can spread awareness regarding marginalized groups' perspectives and mitigate the negative effects of bias in STEM. These circumstances led me to realize that I wanted to cultivate an experience in the medical field using art that encouraged empathy, cultivated variety, and produced tools such as medical models, procedural animations, and medical illustrations that represent a diverse array of ethnicities. Reaching this epiphany, I motivated people to include their cultural identities in tandem with STEM. At my alma mater, North Carolina School of Science and Mathematics, I led the Black Student Union as director, where I coordinated events that acknowledged the diversity across the diaspora. Furthermore, during my time as a Nasher Teen, I collaborated with young creatives of all backgrounds to curate an exhibit that asserts the value of different perspectives in all environments. Finally, I worked at a Duke University lab to study the effects of genetic mutations on Sickle Cell Anemia patients' pain levels, a disease most prevalent in African descendants. Under my mentor, Dr. Allison Ashley-Koch, I analyzed data that will contribute to addressing pain in the black community. Within all spaces, I will act as a beacon for my peers and inspire them to resist compromising their identities for acceptance in STEM. The financial support received from this scholarship will help me reach this goal, providing funds for books and technology required for my studies. With this scholarship, I will posit the importance of understanding different cultural identities and acknowledging how they enhance the STEM community through variety. With each exhibit and every table of data, I will cultivate epiphanies that lead to empathy.