Maya Angelou once said, “I come as one, but I stand as ten thousand.” For a time, I stood alone. Not in silence, but surrounded by whispers, glares, and carefully measured cruelty. In seventh grade, the hallway felt like a war zone. The girls I wanted to befriend used kindness as a trap, masking their cruelty with practiced smiles. Friendship was offered only if I compromised my values. When I refused, they shut me out. Their steady ridicule drowned out my voice. They didn’t need fists. Their words were enough. Each day, I lost a little more of myself. But deep down, an ember still burned. It just needed fuel. That spark reignited when my family moved. A new school gave me a blank page, and this time, I led the narrative. Surrounded by real friends, my voice came back stronger and more certain. I started researching bullying and found something I couldn’t unsee. Nearly a third of youth in the U.S. are affected, and in more than half of those cases, a single peer can disrupt the cycle just by speaking up. I knew I had to be that peer. And I couldn’t stop there. I began mentoring younger girls, sharing my story, and helping them navigate theirs. During the pandemic, I founded Project Empowerment (project-empowerment.com) and wrote a five-part curriculum to build empathy and resilience in girls before they reach middle school. The idea is to have them examine issues on a multitude of levels: self, family, school, community, and the world to see how their actions impact others. We call participants Care Agents. They learn to speak up, not stand by. Through role-play, discussion, activities, and service, they understand that their voice holds power. Not just for themselves but for others, too. Since then, Project Empowerment has grown. We’ve led several cohorts, trained facilitators, and this summer launched online modules that can be used in classrooms. We’ve received recognition from KVUE, the Keep Going 25 Foundation, and Gathering for Justice. But the real impact isn’t in the awards. It’s in the girls. The quiet one who defends a friend. The shy fifth grader who becomes an advocate. I once stood as one. Now I stand with many. Having witnessed––and survived––strong bonds between close friends curdle and turn toxic, I have learned, as a social activist, that progress is possible. Each girl who finds her voice becomes a force. Project Empowerment isn’t just my story anymore. It’s a movement that proves that empathy isn’t fading. It’s just now rising.

My friend Suhana is like no other girl I know. She does not answer when I call her. She does not play tag or hopscotch with me, and she does not ride a bike. We have never had a playdate. It was 2011, and I was a second grader. When my teacher suggested free writing, the paper in front of me represented endless possibilities, but the topic I chose was the one most dear to my heart. I wrote about Suhana. One year before this, I had started volunteering at a special needs center in our community. When I walked into the center and saw Suhana, I was immediately intrigued. She seemed to be around my age and was sitting in a red wheelchair. I gravitated toward her in the hopes of striking a conversation. However, it quickly became pretty clear to me that Suhana was completely nonverbal. I found out that she has cerebral palsy. At the center, I rocked with Suhana on the floor. I drew pictures of her favorite things. There were moments in between Suhana’s rocking and shrieking that gave me a glimpse of her soft heart, her affection for me, and her eagerness to be a part of the world that was so easy for me to access but posed a real challenge to her. Thus, during that life-altering moment of free writing in second grade, I wrote about my unique bond with Suhana. I talked about our friendship and how it flourished without the need for spoken words. Upon reading my essay, my teacher immediately called my mother to compliment my work and asked the foremost question on her mind: “Is Suhana real?” Inspired by the depth of emotion my story evoked in everyone who read it, my mother and I decided to turn my childhood essay into a picture book. My Friend Suhana was accepted for publication and was released when I turned 10. Subsequently, the book and its accompanying story became much bigger than I ever expected or imagined. My Friend Suhana was awarded the coveted Dolly Gray Children’s Literature Award. The next few months were a blur of activity for me with book signings, readings, school visits, and media interviews. I was unable to process the significance of what had occurred in my life. I did notice, however, that I felt a deeper connection with children, especially those who were disabled or faced health or developmental challenges--which changed the trajectory of my life and guided its mission. In elementary school, I offered my friendship to a highly-anxious student on the spectrum. I also stood up to bullies who threatened her well-being (which, along with other experiences, led me to create Project Empowerment, an award-winning anti-bullying program). In high school, I volunteered at a special needs dance program called 2dance2dream, combining my love for dancing with my passion to serve little ones who are disabled. At present I am also providing online research support to a geneticist at Baylor College of Medicine for her paper on ectrodactyly and sensorineural hearing loss. My early experiences allowed me to gain a remarkable insight into what a life of service looks like. I realized that raising a child with illness or disability does take a village that has to work in complete harmony–from parents to teachers to healthcare professionals. My goal is to become a neonatologist focused on providing diagnostic, interventional, and evidence-based care to preterm babies. As I pursue my journey, I will always look back and feel the guiding influence of an early mentor, Suhana.

The girls huddled in cliques; their hypercritical eyes darted up and down at me as I walked through the halls in my new, blue jeans and knitted rose pink sweater, confidently laid out the night before. Afterwards, came the intentional exclusion from their groups when I wouldn’t comply. It didn’t matter that I was a published author and a good student with decent grades; they still managed to steal power from me with name-calling, insults, and intimidation tactics. Bullying in middle school impaired my confidence and led to apprehension and anxiety. At the conclusion of seventh grade, my family moved to another area where I attended a different school. With a fresh start and my admittance to a group of new friends who cherished me, I steadily regained the confidence I had been robbed of in the past. My experience and subsequent growth motivated me to take action, so in high school I decided to informally mentor young girls in my community who had experienced bullying. I soon realized that this circle of impact needed to grow wider. During the pandemic, I founded Project Empowerment—an online anti-bullying program designed to foster empathy and courage in young girls (project-empowerment.com). Over a period of 6 months, I developed a comprehensive curriculum for the project. My work with Project Empowerment led me to receive the KVUE Our Future Award. I also received a grant from The Gathering for Justice—a social justice organization. Having witnessed—and survived—strong bonds between close friends curdle and turn toxic, I have learned, as a social activist, that progress is possible. My goal is to continue building a larger community of caring individuals through Project Empowerment, knowing that one empathetic heart is all it takes to create a safe space for children who are marginalized or ostracized.

The girls huddled in cliques; their hypercritical eyes darted up and down at me as I walked through the halls in my new, blue jeans and knitted rose pink sweater, confidently laid out the night before. Afterwards, came the intentional exclusion from their groups when I wouldn’t comply. It didn’t matter that I was a published author and a good student with decent grades; they still managed to steal power from me with name-calling, insults, and intimidation tactics. Bullying in middle school impaired my confidence and led to apprehension and anxiety. At the conclusion of seventh grade, my family moved to another area where I attended a different school. With a fresh start and my admittance to a group of new friends who cherished me, I steadily regained the confidence I had been robbed of in the past. My experience and subsequent growth motivated me to take action, so in high school I decided to informally mentor young girls in my community who had experienced bullying. I soon realized that this circle of impact needed to grow wider. During the pandemic, I founded Project Empowerment—an online anti-bullying program designed to foster empathy and courage in young girls (project-empowerment.com). Over a period of 6 months, I developed a comprehensive curriculum for the project. My work with Project Empowerment led me to receive the KVUE Our Future Award. I also received a grant from The Gathering for Justice—a social justice organization. Having witnessed—and survived—strong bonds between close friends curdle and turn toxic, I have learned, as a social activist, that progress is possible. My goal is to continue building a larger community of caring individuals through Project Empowerment, knowing that one empathetic heart is all it takes to create a safe space for children who are marginalized or ostracized.

Tiny humans have always fascinated me—their curiosity, innocence, abilities, and yes, even their disabilities. What intrigues me most are two factors—their sheer determination to not let anything hold them back and their remarkable inner strength to bounce back from any situation. These elements are precisely what I think make the job of a pediatrician very rewarding. I was recently accepted into the Health Science Scholar honors program at the University of Texas at Austin where I hope to gain the expertise needed to help children obtain quality care. The honors program–where I will be one of 50 students–has the necessary framework to help me grow in my chosen field of neonatology with ground-breaking research opportunities, a world-renowned curriculum, and a rare chance to serve the community. I have always been attracted to the health-science fields, as evidenced by my rigorous coursework in high school in the areas of biology, chemistry, and psychology. Last summer as the pandemic interfered with many of my planned pursuits, I took up a virtual medical shadowing course from the University of Colorado. For my IB extended essay, I wrote a 4,000-word research paper on the effects of racial bias within the medical field. I hope to continue working on that research while at UT-Austin and eventually develop tools and training to address such bias and to ensure fair and equitable access of quality medical care to all—regardless of race, color, gender, or sexual orientation. After receiving my undergraduate degree from the College of Natural Sciences, I will apply to a prestigious medical program such as Dell Medical School to continue my journey. My goal is to become a neonatologist focused on providing diagnostic, interventional, and evidence-based care to preterm babies. My undergraduate degree at UT-Austin is a very crucial first step in my long journey.

It was a moment of triumph but it was not mine alone. With a brisk bow, I stepped on the back pedal of Gracie’s wheelchair and spun her around on the stage. We were dancing—both she and I—and it didn’t matter that one of us could not walk. Eight-year-old Gracie has cerebral palsy but she loves to dance. From 2017 through 2019, I volunteered as a dance assistant with 2Dance2Dream, helping fulfill little dancers’ dreams. Their dreams aren’t that much different from mine. I have been dancing since I was 3. With six years of ballet, three years of jazz and now as a team member of Warrior Pride, I have been on many stages and have been a part of countless recitals, but none were as joyful to me as dancing with those little dancers on stage with differently-abled bodies, their hearts full, and their eyes brighter than the blinding lights on stage. Unfortunately, 2Dance2Dream closed its doors during the pandemic because it was unable to obtain funding. I hope to partner with Dance Action or Latinx Theatre Initiative to start a program similar to 2Dance2Dream where we can offer free dance instruction to children with disabilities and encourage them to nurture a passion to dance. I believe every person has a right to pursue their passion and we as a society need to do everything in our power to make this world an equitable stage for them.

The girls huddled in cliques; their hypercritical eyes darted up and down at me as I walked through the halls. In fact, the girls’ determination to befriend me was only to share online the things I had told them in confidence. Afterwards, came the intentional exclusion from social media when I wouldn’t comply. But it was the seemingly mild, yet soul-puncturing phrase, “You’re so stupid!” that wounded me daily and echoed continuously in my ears. My inner strength weakened. It didn’t matter that I was a published author and a good student with decent grades; they still managed to steal power from me with name-calling, insults, cyberbullying and intimidation tactics. Bullying in middle school impaired my confidence and led to apprehension and anxiety. At the conclusion of seventh grade, my family moved to another area where I attended a different school. With a fresh start and my admittance to a group of new friends who cherished me, I steadily regained the confidence I had been robbed of in the past. I discovered that almost 30% of youth in the United States are involved in bullying as either a perpetrator, a target, or both. My experience, research, discovery, and subsequent growth motivated me to take action, so in high school I decided to informally mentor young girls in my community who had experienced bullying. I soon realized that this circle of impact needed to grow wider. During the pandemic, I founded Project Empowerment––a 5-week online anti-bullying program designed to foster empathy and courage in young girls (project-empowerment.com). Over a period of 6 months, I developed a comprehensive curriculum for the project. The idea is to catch girls at the age preceding middle school and have them examine issues on a multitude of levels: self, family, school, community, and the world to see how their actions impact others. Participants in Project Empowerment are called Care Agents who are trained to be outstanding upstanders not merely passive bystanders. They engage in an array of interactive activities and discussions, respond to scenarios to gauge their response to cyber and other forms of bullying and empathy levels, receive tips and self-help skills to deal with bullying, build a support system, and perform acts of service to see beyond the bounds of one’s privilege. My work with Project Empowerment led me to receive the KVUE Our Future Award—a recognition by the Austin ABC TV affiliate of students in Central Texas who excel in some way. I also received a grant from The Gathering for Justice—a social justice organization founded by Harry Belafonte. Having witnessed––and survived––strong bonds between close friends curdle and turn toxic, I have learned, as a social activist, that progress is possible. My goal is to continue building a larger community of caring individuals through Project Empowerment, knowing that one empathetic heart is all it takes to create a safe space for children who are marginalized or ostracized. My experiences have shaped who I am today and allow me to appreciate the versatility and strength of uncommon encounters. I plan to pursue my education in medicine, where I will follow my passion to improve the lives of children. I was recently accepted into the Health Science Scholar honors program at the University of Texas at Austin. I aim to become a neonatologist focused on providing diagnostic, interventional, and evidence-based care to preterm babies.

The girls huddled in cliques; their hypercritical eyes darted up and down at me as I walked through the halls in my new, blue, skinny jeans and knitted rose pink sweater, confidently laid out the night before. Trust. I sought it. Delivered it. Expected it. But it’s just a five-letter word. In fact, the girls’ determination to befriend me was only to share with others the things I had told them in confidence. Afterwards, came the intentional exclusion from their groups when I wouldn’t comply. But it was the seemingly mild, yet soul-puncturing phrase, “You’re so stupid!” that wounded me daily and echoed continuously in my ears, from one classroom seat to the next. My inner strength weakened. It didn’t matter that I was a published author and a good student with decent grades; they still managed to steal power from me with name-calling, insults, and intimidation tactics. Bullying in middle school impaired my confidence and led to apprehension and anxiety. At the conclusion of seventh grade, my family moved to another area where I attended a different school. With a fresh start and my admittance to a group of new friends who cherished me, I steadily regained the confidence I had been robbed of in the past. Equally important to me was the opportunity to examine what leads people to bully others and to think critically about my past experience. In my research, I discovered three eye-opening facts: almost 30% of youth in the United States are involved in bullying as either a perpetrator, a target, or both; half of bullying situations stop when a peer intervenes; and nowadays, the average American is less empathetic than 75% of Americans were 30 years ago. Empathy is a quality needed to form friendships. It’s necessary for teamwork and, in the larger scheme of the world, it’s required for peaceful coexistence. It was devastating for me to find out that we seemed to be losing that trait in present-day society. My experience, research, discovery, and subsequent growth motivated me to take action, so in high school I decided to informally mentor young girls in my community who had experienced bullying. I coached them on differentiating between healthy versus damaging friendships, provided them with tools to combat bullying, and helped raise their self-esteem through conversations and activities. I soon realized that this circle of impact needed to grow wider. During the pandemic, I founded Project Empowerment––a 5-week online anti-bullying program designed to foster empathy and courage in young girls (project-empowerment.com). Over a period of 6 months, I developed a comprehensive curriculum for the project. The idea is to catch girls at the age preceding middle school and have them examine issues on a multitude of levels: self, family, school, community, and the world to see how their actions impact others. Participants in Project Empowerment are called Care Agents who are trained to be outstanding upstanders not merely passive bystanders. They engage in an array of interactive activities and discussions, respond to scenarios to gauge their response to bullying and empathy levels, receive tips and self-help skills to deal with bullying, build a support system, and perform acts of service to see beyond the bounds of one’s privilege. I am currently training more trainers so that I can offer the sessions to more students. At the last two sessions we had enrollment over capacity which made me very excited that not only do I see the value in this work but parents and students see that too. I am also looking to partner with a corporate or nonprofit agency who can support this work financially so that we can continue to offer these sessions for free. My work with Project Empowerment led me to receive the KVUE Our Future Award—a recognition by the Austin ABC TV affiliate of students in Central Texas who excel in some way. I also received a grant from The Gathering for Justice—a social justice organization founded by Harry Belafonte. My experiences have shaped who I am today. I plan to pursue my education in medicine, where I will follow my passion of improving the lives of children. For my IB extended essay, I am writing a research paper on the effects of racial bias within the medical field. Through my research, I hope to gain insight into the manners in which racial stereotypes and bias impact the administration of care. I hope to continue working on that research while at college and eventually develop tools and training to address such bias. As a future physician, I believe it to be of utmost importance to learn and address the signs of an unconscious bias in medicine and to ensure fair and equitable access of quality medical care to all—regardless of race, color, gender, or sexual orientation. Having witnessed––and survived––strong bonds between close friends curdle and turn toxic, I have learned, as a social activist, that progress is possible. My goal is to continue building a larger community of caring individuals through Project Empowerment, knowing that one empathetic heart is all it takes to create a safe space for children who are marginalized or ostracized.

The girls huddled in cliques; their hypercritical eyes darted up and down at me as I walked through the halls in my new, blue jeans and rose pink sweater, confidently laid out the night before. Afterwards, came the intentional exclusion from their groups. It didn’t matter that I was a published author and a good student with decent grades; they still managed to steal power from me with name-calling, insults, and intimidation tactics. Bullying in middle school impaired my confidence and led to apprehension and anxiety. At the conclusion of seventh grade, my family moved to another area where I attended a different school. With a fresh start, I steadily regained the confidence I had been robbed of in the past. Equally important to me was the opportunity to examine what leads people to bully others. In my research, I discovered that almost 30% of youth in the United States are involved in bullying as either a perpetrator, a target, or both. My experience, research, and subsequent growth motivated me to take action, so in high school I decided to informally mentor young girls in my community who had experienced bullying. I soon realized that this circle of impact needed to grow wider. During the pandemic, I founded Project Empowerment—an online anti-bullying program designed to foster empathy and courage in young girls (project-empowerment.com). Over a period of 6 months, I developed a comprehensive curriculum for the project. My work with Project Empowerment led me to receive the KVUE Our Future Award and a grant from The Gathering for Justice—a social justice organization. My goal is to continue building a larger community of caring individuals through Project Empowerment, knowing that one empathetic heart is all it takes to create a safe space for children who are marginalized or ostracized.

Tiny humans have always fascinated me—their curiosity, innocence, abilities, and yes, even their disabilities. What intrigues me most are two factors—their sheer determination to not let anything hold them back and their remarkable inner strength to bounce back from any situation. These elements are precisely what I think make the job of a pediatrician very rewarding. My parents are college-educated immigrants and have always steered me toward service. I began caring for children with disabilities at the age of six. During that time, I gained a remarkable insight into what a life of service looks like. I realized that raising a child with illness or disability does take a village that has to work in complete harmony–from parents to teachers to healthcare professionals. This early experience solidified my passion to become a pediatrician. I plan to pursue my education in medicine, where I will follow my passion in improving the lives of children. As a biology major, I hope to gain the necessary expertise to help children overcome illness through quality care. The study of biology provides you a clear lens to see how the living world grows and functions—and sometimes lapses. My goal is to become a neonatologist focused on providing diagnostic, interventional, and evidence-based care to preterm babies. Statistics are not in the favor of premature newborns. About 450,000 of them are born early in the United States. I am also working independently on a research paper on the effects of racial bias within the medical field. I hope to continue working on that research and eventually develop tools and training to address such bias and to ensure fair and equitable access of quality medical care to all—regardless of race, color, gender, or sexual orientation.

It was a moment of triumph but it was not mine alone. With a brisk bow, I stepped on the back pedal of Gracie’s wheelchair and spun her around on the stage. We were dancing—both she and I—and it didn’t matter that one of us could not walk. Eight-year-old Gracie has cerebral palsy but she loves to dance. From 2017 through 2019, I volunteered as a dance assistant with 2Dance2Dream, helping fulfill little dancers’ dreams. Their dreams aren’t that much different from mine. I have been dancing since I was 3 which makes it a very serious hobby of mine. With six years of ballet, three years of jazz and now as a team member of Warrior Pride, I have been on many stages and have been a part of countless recitals, but none were as joyful to me as dancing with those little dancers with differently-abled bodies, their eyes brighter than the lights on stage. Unfortunately, 2Dance2Dream closed its doors during the pandemic because it was unable to obtain funding. I hope to find like-minded dancers to offer a program similar to 2Dance2Dream where we can provide free dance instruction to children with disabilities and encourage them to nurture a passion to dance. I believe every person has a right to pursue their passion and we as a society need to do everything in our power to make this world an equitable stage for them.

The girls huddled in cliques; their hypercritical eyes darted up and down at me as I walked through the halls in my new, blue jeans and rose pink sweater, confidently laid out the night before. Afterwards, came the intentional exclusion from their groups. It didn’t matter that I was a published author and a good student with decent grades; they still managed to steal power from me with name-calling, insults, and intimidation tactics. Bullying in middle school impaired my confidence and led to apprehension and anxiety. At the conclusion of seventh grade, my family moved to another area where I attended a different school. With a fresh start, I steadily regained the confidence I had been robbed of in the past. Equally important to me was the opportunity to examine what leads people to bully others. In my research, I discovered that almost 30% of youth in the United States are involved in bullying as either a perpetrator, a target, or both. My experience, research, and subsequent growth motivated me to take action, so in high school I decided to informally mentor young girls in my community who had experienced bullying. I soon realized that this circle of impact needed to grow wider. During the pandemic, I founded Project Empowerment—an online anti-bullying program designed to foster empathy and courage in young girls (project-empowerment.com). Over a period of 6 months, I developed a comprehensive curriculum for the project. My work with Project Empowerment led me to receive the KVUE Our Future Award and a grant from The Gathering for Justice—a social justice organization. My goal is to continue building a larger community of caring individuals through Project Empowerment, knowing that one empathetic heart is all it takes to create a safe space for children who are marginalized or ostracized.

There are moments in leadership positions where you learn more from your interactions than in any training. Neha, Raya, and Amaan were three children who taught me that. It was my second year as a counselor at Camp Mosaic–a six-day summer camp for children, focused on building lifelong relationships—but it wasn’t always easy. In my group Neha and Raya were the polar opposites of each other. While Neha had selective mutism and was shy and distant, Raya was loud, hyper, and disruptive. A single approach would not have worked for these participants—so, I pivoted. Neha refused to participate in any of the activities and during sports opted to sit out. This was my perfect opportunity to reach out to her. I asked her about her interests and to my surprise, she opened up immediately. She told me how she swims competitively and from that point on, she lost her shyness with me. I had somehow found her trust, and during the process, her voice. Raya was a whole different story. She was a firecracker that refused to be contained so I made the most of the sports and movement activities to channel her energy. Often after those physically enduring sessions, she was calmer and able to focus on other activities. She made many friends that year and I was very proud of her. Camp Mosaic taught me that leading with compassion and persistence are the only two ways to bring forth real change.

My friend Suhana is like no other girl I know. She does not answer when I call her. She does not play tag or hopscotch with me, and she does not ride a bike. We have never had a playdate. It was 2011, and I was a second grader. When my teacher suggested free writing, the paper in front of me represented endless possibilities, but the topic I chose was the one most dear to my heart. I wrote about Suhana. One year before this, I had started volunteering at a the Ismaili special needs center in our community. When I walked into the center and saw Suhana, I was immediately intrigued. She seemed to be around my age and was sitting in a red wheelchair. I gravitated toward her in the hopes of striking a conversation. However, it quickly became pretty clear to me that Suhana was completely nonverbal. I found out that she has cerebral palsy. At the center, I rocked with Suhana on the floor. I drew pictures of her favorite things. There were moments in between Suhana’s rocking and shrieking that gave me a glimpse of her soft heart, her affection for me, and her eagerness to be a part of the world that was so easy for me to access but posed a real challenge to her. Thus, during that life-altering moment of free writing in second grade, I wrote about my unique bond with Suhana. I talked about our friendship and how it flourished without the need for spoken words. Upon reading my essay, my teacher immediately called my mother to compliment my work and asked the foremost question on her mind: “Is Suhana real?” Inspired by the depth of emotion my story evoked in everyone who read it, my mother and I decided to turn my childhood essay into a picture book. My Friend Suhana was accepted for publication and was released when I turned 10. Subsequently, the book and its accompanying story became much bigger than I ever expected or imagined. My Friend Suhana sold more than 3,000 copies and was awarded the coveted Dolly Gray Children’s Literature Award. The next few months were a blur of activity for me with book signings, readings, school visits, and media interviews. In elementary school, I offered my friendship to a highly-anxious student on the spectrum. I also stood up to bullies who threatened her well-being (which, along with other experiences, led me to create Project Empowerment, an award-winning anti-bullying program). My school’s deaf education immersion program allowed me to interact with hearing-impaired children in classrooms via sign language. Teachers would pull me out of class to accompany special needs kids in therapy sessions. Over the years, I have continued to volunteer at the center and engage with Suhana. In sixth grade, I researched ways to help calm someone like Suhana, and designed a vibrating and sensory vest for her to wear to school. I received the Prudential award for that project. During the pandemic I served as an online mentor to children on the autism spectrum through the BlueBloom program. In high school, I volunteered at a special needs dance program called 2dance2dream, combining my love for dancing with my passion to serve little ones who are disabled. Over the years, I have spent 180 hours serving the special needs community. My experiences have shaped who I am today and allow me to appreciate the versatility and strength of uncommon friendships. I will always look back and feel the guiding influence of Suhana, an early mentor.

It was a moment of triumph but it was not mine alone. With a brisk bow, I stepped on the back pedal of Gracie’s wheelchair and spun her around on the stage. We were dancing—both she and I—and it didn’t matter that one of us could not walk. Eight-year-old Gracie has cerebral palsy but she loves to dance. From 2017 through 2019, I volunteered as a dance assistant with 2Dance2Dream, helping fulfill little dancers’ dreams. Their dreams aren’t that much different from mine. I have been dancing since I was 3. With six years of ballet, three years of jazz and now as a team member of Warrior Pride, I have been on many stages and have been a part of countless recitals, but none were as joyful to me as dancing with those little dancers with differently-abled bodies, their eyes brighter than the lights on stage. Unfortunately, 2Dance2Dream closed its doors during the pandemic because it was unable to obtain funding. I hope to find like-minded dancers to offer a program similar to 2Dance2Dream where we can provide free dance instruction to children with disabilities and encourage them to nurture a passion to dance. My experiences have shaped who I am today and allowed me to appreciate the versatility and strength of uncommon encounters. I plan to pursue my education in medicine, where I will follow my passion in improving the lives of children, while doing everything in my power to make this world an equitable stage for all children.

The girls huddled in cliques; their hypercritical eyes darted up and down at me as I walked through the halls in my new, blue, skinny jeans and knitted rose pink sweater, confidently laid out the night before. Trust. I sought it. Delivered it. Expected it. But it’s just a five-letter word. In fact, the girls’ determination to befriend me was only to share with others the things I had told them in confidence. Afterwards, came the intentional exclusion from their groups when I wouldn’t comply. But it was the seemingly mild, yet soul-puncturing phrase, “You’re so stupid!” that wounded me daily and echoed continuously in my ears, from one classroom seat to the next. My inner strength weakened. It didn’t matter that I was a published author and a good student with decent grades; they still managed to steal power from me with name-calling, insults, and intimidation tactics. Bullying in middle school impaired my confidence and led to apprehension and anxiety. At the conclusion of seventh grade, my family moved to another area where I attended a different school. With a fresh start and my admittance to a group of new friends who cherished me, I steadily regained the confidence I had been robbed of in the past. Equally important to me was the opportunity to examine what leads people to bully others. In my research, I discovered three eye-opening facts: almost 30% of youth in the United States are involved in bullying as either a perpetrator, a target, or both; half of bullying situations stop when a peer intervenes; and nowadays, the average American is less empathetic than 75% of Americans were 30 years ago. Empathy is a quality needed to form friendships. My experience, research, discovery, and subsequent growth motivated me to take action, so in high school I decided to informally mentor young girls in my community who had experienced bullying. I coached them on differentiating between healthy versus damaging friendships, provided them with tools to combat bullying, and helped raise their self-esteem through conversations and activities. I soon realized that this circle of impact needed to grow wider. During the pandemic, I founded Project Empowerment––a 5-week online anti-bullying program designed to foster empathy and courage in young girls (project-empowerment.com). Over a period of 6 months, I developed a comprehensive curriculum for the project. The idea is to catch girls at the age preceding middle school and have them examine issues on a multitude of levels: self, family, school, community, and the world to see how their actions impact others. Participants in Project Empowerment are called Care Agents who are trained to be outstanding upstanders not merely passive bystanders. They engage in an array of interactive activities and discussions, respond to scenarios to gauge their response to bullying and empathy levels, receive tips and self-help skills to deal with bullying, build a support system, and perform acts of service to see beyond the bounds of one’s privilege. My work with Project Empowerment led me to receive the KVUE Our Future Award—a recognition by the Austin ABC TV affiliate of students in Central Texas who excel in some way. I also received a grant from The Gathering for Justice—a social justice organization founded by Harry Belafonte. Having witnessed—and survived—strong bonds between close friends curdle and turn toxic, I have learned, as a social activist, that progress is possible. My goal is to continue building a larger community of caring individuals through Project Empowerment, knowing that one empathetic heart is all it takes to create a safe space for children who are marginalized or ostracized.

The girls huddled in cliques; their hypercritical eyes darted up and down at me as I walked through the halls. In fact, the girls’ determination to befriend me was only to share online the things I had told them in confidence. Afterwards, came the intentional exclusion from social media when I wouldn’t comply. But it was the seemingly mild, yet soul-puncturing phrase, “You’re so stupid!” that wounded me daily and echoed continuously in my ears. My inner strength weakened. It didn’t matter that I was a published author and a good student with decent grades; they still managed to steal power from me with name-calling, insults, cyberbullying and intimidation tactics. Bullying in middle school impaired my confidence and led to apprehension and anxiety. At the conclusion of seventh grade, my family moved to another area where I attended a different school. With a fresh start and my admittance to a group of new friends who cherished me, I steadily regained the confidence I had been robbed of in the past. I discovered that almost 30% of youth in the United States are involved in bullying as either a perpetrator, a target, or both. My experience, research, discovery, and subsequent growth motivated me to take action, so in high school I decided to informally mentor young girls in my community who had experienced bullying. I soon realized that this circle of impact needed to grow wider. During the pandemic, I founded Project Empowerment––a 5-week online anti-bullying program designed to foster empathy and courage in young girls (project-empowerment.com). Over a period of 6 months, I developed a comprehensive curriculum for the project. The idea is to catch girls at the age preceding middle school and have them examine issues on a multitude of levels: self, family, school, community, and the world to see how their actions impact others. Participants in Project Empowerment are called Care Agents who are trained to be outstanding upstanders not merely passive bystanders. They engage in an array of interactive activities and discussions, respond to scenarios to gauge their response to cyber and other forms of bullying and empathy levels, receive tips and self-help skills to deal with bullying, build a support system, and perform acts of service to see beyond the bounds of one’s privilege. My work with Project Empowerment led me to receive the KVUE Our Future Award—a recognition by the Austin ABC TV affiliate of students in Central Texas who excel in some way. I also received a grant from The Gathering for Justice—a social justice organization founded by Harry Belafonte. Having witnessed––and survived––strong bonds between close friends curdle and turn toxic, I have learned, as a social activist, that progress is possible. My goal is to continue building a larger community of caring individuals through Project Empowerment, knowing that one empathetic heart is all it takes to create a safe space for children who are marginalized or ostracized.

Tiny humans have always fascinated me—their curiosity, innocence, abilities, and yes, even their disabilities. What intrigues me most are two factors—their sheer determination to not let anything hold them back and their remarkable inner strength to bounce back from any situation. These elements are precisely what I think make the job of a neonatologist very rewarding. Biology provides you a clear lens to see how the living world moves, grows, and functions—and sometimes lapses. My goal is to become a neonatologist focused on providing diagnostic, interventional, and evidence-based care to preterm babies. Statistics are not in the favor of premature newborns. About 450,000 of them are born early in the United States. Nearly 50% of them will develop abnormal brain functions, and at least 15% of them will end up with severe disabilities requiring lifelong care. Research and advancement in the field of biology can have a profound impact on future generations and can affect the quality of life. Take for instance Dr. Seema Agarwala’s research to study the cellular and molecular mechanisms involved in neural tube closure, and how anencephaly and spina bifida can occur when this very intricate process suddenly goes haywire. Or, consider Dr. Haley Tucker’s work on reprogramming somatic cells to stem cells and developing new methodology for producing vaccines. I have always been attracted to the health-science fields, as evidenced by my rigorous coursework in high school in the areas of biology, chemistry, and psychology. Last summer, as the pandemic interfered with many of my planned pursuits, I took up a virtual medical shadowing course from the University of Colorado. For my IB extended essay, I wrote and submitted a research paper on the effects of racial bias within the medical field. I hope to continue working on that research while at college and beyond, and eventually develop tools and training to address such bias and to ensure fair and equitable access of quality medical care to all—regardless of race, color, gender, or sexual orientation. At present I am also providing online research support to Dr. Seema Lalani, associate professor of the department of molecular and human genetics at Baylor College of Medicine for her paper on de novo mutation in MAP3K20 that causes ectrodactyly and sensorineural hearing loss. I hope to continue both of these works in the future. Apart from academics, I spend my free time volunteering in various initiatives. I am the founder and lead of Project Empowerment, an anti-bullying program designed to foster empathy and courage in young girls. I am also an online mentor to children on the autism spectrum through the BlueBloom program and a volunteer tutor for the Aga Khan Education Board. Right before the pandemic, I volunteered as a dance assistant with 2Dance2Dream, a program for children with disabilities. Unfortunately, 2Dance2Dream closed its doors during the pandemic because it was unable to obtain funding to continue their important work. In the future I hope to start a program similar to 2Dance2Dream where we can provide free dance instruction to children with disabilities. I believe every person has a right to pursue their passion and we as a society need to do everything in our power to make this world an equitable stage for them. I was recently accepted into the Health Science Scholar honors program at the University of Texas at Austin where I will get to further exercise being an alert and active inquirer. The honors program––where I will be one of 50 students––has the necessary framework to help me grow in my chosen field with ground-breaking research opportunities and a chance to serve my community.

Tiny humans have always fascinated me—their curiosity, innocence, abilities, and yes, even their disabilities. What intrigues me most are two factors—their sheer determination to not let anything hold them back and their remarkable inner strength to bounce back from any situation. These elements are precisely what I think make the job of a neonatologist very rewarding. Biology provides you a clear lens to see how the living world moves, grows, and functions—and sometimes lapses. My goal is to become a neonatologist focused on providing diagnostic, interventional, and evidence-based care to preterm babies. Statistics are not in the favor of premature newborns. About 450,000 of them are born early in the United States. Nearly 50% of them will develop abnormal brain functions, and at least 15% of them will end up with severe disabilities requiring lifelong care. Research and advancement in the field of biology can have a profound impact on future generations and can affect the quality of life. Take for instance Dr. Seema Agarwala’s research to study the cellular and molecular mechanisms involved in neural tube closure, and how anencephaly and spina bifida can occur when this very intricate process suddenly goes haywire. Or, consider Dr. Haley Tucker’s work on reprogramming somatic cells to stem cells and developing new methodology for producing vaccines. I have always been attracted to the health-science fields, as evidenced by my rigorous coursework in high school in the areas of biology, chemistry, and psychology. Last summer, as the pandemic interfered with many of my planned pursuits, I took up a virtual medical shadowing course from the University of Colorado. For my IB extended essay, I wrote and submitted a research paper on the effects of racial bias within the medical field. I hope to continue working on that research while at college and beyond, and eventually develop tools and training to address such bias and to ensure fair and equitable access of quality medical care to all—regardless of race, color, gender, or sexual orientation. At present I am also providing online research support to Dr. Seema Lalani, associate professor of the department of molecular and human genetics at Baylor College of Medicine for her paper on de novo mutation in MAP3K20 that causes ectrodactyly and sensorineural hearing loss. I hope to continue both of these works in the future. Apart from academics, I spend my free time volunteering in various initiatives. I am the founder and lead of Project Empowerment, an anti-bullying program designed to foster empathy and courage in young girls. I am also an online mentor to children on the autism spectrum through the BlueBloom program and a volunteer tutor for the Aga Khan Education Board. Right before the pandemic, I volunteered as a dance assistant with 2Dance2Dream, a program for children with disabilities. Unfortunately, 2Dance2Dream closed its doors during the pandemic because it was unable to obtain funding to continue their important work. In the future I hope to start a program similar to 2Dance2Dream where we can provide free dance instruction to children with disabilities. I believe every person has a right to pursue their passion and we as a society need to do everything in our power to make this world an equitable stage for them. I was recently accepted into the Health Science Scholar honors program at the University of Texas at Austin where I will get to further exercise being an alert and active inquirer. The honors program––where I will be one of 50 students––has the necessary framework to help me grow in my chosen field with ground-breaking research opportunities and a chance to serve my community.

My friend Suhana is like no other girl I know. She does not answer when I call her. She does not play tag or hopscotch with me, and she does not ride a bike. We have never had a playdate. When my teacher suggested free writing in second grade, the paper in front of me represented endless possibilities, but the topic I chose was the one most dear to my heart. I wrote about Suhana. One year before this, I had started volunteering at a special needs center in our community. When I walked into the center and saw Suhana in a wheelchair, I was immediately intrigued. I found out that she has cerebral palsy. At the center, I rocked with Suhana on the floor. There were moments in between Suhana’s shrieking that gave me a glimpse of her soft heart, her affection for me, and her eagerness to be a part of my world. Upon reading my essay, my teacher immediately called my mother to compliment my work. Inspired by the depth of emotion my story evoked in everyone who read it, my mother and I decided to turn my childhood essay into a picture book. My Friend Suhana was accepted for publication and was released when I turned 10. It was awarded the coveted Dolly Gray Children’s Literature Award. The next few months were a blur of activity for me with book signings, readings, school visits, and media interviews. In sixth grade, I researched ways to help calm someone like Suhana, and designed a sensory vest for her to wear to school. My experiences have shaped who I am today. I will always look back and feel the guiding influence of Suhana, an early mentor.

My IB research paper is based on the effects of racial bias within the medical field. Through my research, gained insight into the manners in which racial stereotypes and bias impact the administration of care. For instance, in my research I discovered that Black Americans are more likely to suffer from preventable diseases, negative physician interactions, and substandard health practices than individuals of other races. Despite the existence of the Civil Rights Act of 1964, racial injustices continue to exist, though not necessarily through “traditional” forms such as the denial of healthcare on a racial basis, but through devious and less obvious manners such as presumptive diagnosis, differences in treatment, and ignorance of symptoms (modified actions stemming from racial biases). One of the most notable examples of such practices includes the finding that Black individuals are less likely to receive pain medications, and even if they are administered, the dosages are significantly smaller than appropriate. A striking disparity in healthcare can also be exemplified by the infant mortality rates of 12% for Black babies, a higher number compared to White babies suffering at a rate of 5%. I hope to continue working on this important research while at the University of Texas in Austin and eventually develop tools and training to address such bias. As a future physician, I believe it to be of utmost importance to learn and address the signs of an unconscious bias in medicine and to ensure fair and equitable access of quality medical care to all—regardless of race, color, gender, or sexual orientation.

The girls huddled in cliques; their hypercritical eyes darted up and down at me as I walked through the halls in my new clothes confidently laid out the night before. Afterwards, came the intentional exclusion from their groups when I wouldn’t comply. It didn’t matter that I was a good student with decent grades; they still managed to steal power from me with name-calling, insults, and intimidation tactics. Bullying in middle school impaired my confidence. I was one of the stats. Almost 30% of youth in the United States are involved in bullying as either a perpetrator, a target, or both. At the conclusion of seventh grade, my family moved to another area where I attended a different school and soon regained my confidence. My experience, research, and subsequent growth motivated me to take action, so during the pandemic, I founded Project Empowerment—an online anti-bullying program designed to foster empathy and courage in young girls. Participants in Project Empowerment are called Care Agents who are trained to be outstanding upstanders not merely passive bystanders. They engage in an array of interactive activities and discussions, respond to scenarios to gauge their response to bullying and empathy levels, and perform acts of service to see beyond the bounds of one’s privilege. My goal is to continue building a larger community of caring individuals through Project Empowerment, knowing that one empathetic heart is all it takes to create a safe space for children who are marginalized or ostracized.

The girls huddled in cliques; their hypercritical eyes darted up and down at me as I walked through the halls in my new clothes confidently laid out the night before. Afterwards, came the intentional exclusion from their groups when I wouldn’t comply. It didn’t matter that I was a good student with decent grades; they still managed to steal power from me with name-calling, insults, and intimidation tactics. Bullying in middle school impaired my confidence. I was one of the stats. Almost 30% of youth in the United States are involved in bullying as either a perpetrator, a target, or both. At the conclusion of seventh grade, my family moved to another area where I attended a different school and soon regained my confidence. My experience, research, and subsequent growth motivated me to take action, so during the pandemic, I founded Project Empowerment—an online anti-bullying program designed to foster empathy and courage in young girls. Participants in Project Empowerment are called Care Agents who are trained to be outstanding upstanders not merely passive bystanders. They engage in an array of interactive activities and discussions, respond to scenarios to gauge their response to bullying and empathy levels, and perform acts of service to see beyond the bounds of one’s privilege. My goal is to continue building a larger community of caring individuals through Project Empowerment, knowing that one empathetic heart is all it takes to create a safe space for children who are marginalized or ostracized.

Tiny humans have always motivated me—their curiosity, brilliance, abilities, and yes, even their disabilities. What interests me most are two factors—their determination to not let anything hold them back and their remarkable inner strength to bounce back from any situation. These are the reasons that make the job of a neonatologist very rewarding. Statistics are not in the favor of premature newborns. Nearly 50% of them will develop abnormal brain functions, and at least 15% will end up with severe disabilities requiring lifelong care. My goal is to become a neonatologist focused on providing diagnostic, interventional, and evidence-based care to preterm babies. I began caring for children with disabilities at the age of six. In elementary school, I volunteered at an activity center where I met a girl named Suhana who has cerebral palsy. Our friendship led me to write an award winning book called My Friend Suhana. In sixth grade, I designed a sensory vest for Suhana. In high school, I volunteered at a dance program for children with disabilities called 2dance2dream, started a free online anti-bullying program called Project Empowerment and served as a mentor to children on the autism spectrum for BlueBloom. My experiences have allowed me to gain a remarkable insight into what a life of service looks like. For my IB extended essay, I wrote a research paper on the effects of racial bias within the medical field. I hope to eventually develop tools and training to address such bias and to ensure fair and equitable access of quality medical care to all. At present I am also providing online research support to Dr. Seema Lalani at BCM for her paper on mutation that causes hearing loss. I was recently accepted into the Health Science Scholar honors program at the University of Texas at Austin.

The girls huddled in cliques; their hypercritical eyes darted up and down at me as I walked through the halls in my new clothes confidently laid out the night before. Afterwards, came the intentional exclusion from their groups when I wouldn’t comply. It didn’t matter that I was a good student with decent grades; they still managed to steal power from me with name-calling, insults, and intimidation tactics. Bullying in middle school impaired my confidence. I was one of the stats. Almost 30% of youth in the United States are involved in bullying as either a perpetrator, a target, or both. At the conclusion of seventh grade, my family moved to another area where I attended a different school and soon regained my confidence. My experience, research, and subsequent growth motivated me to take action, so during the pandemic, I founded Project Empowerment—an award-winning online anti-bullying program designed to foster empathy and courage in young girls. Participants in Project Empowerment are called Care Agents who are trained to be outstanding upstanders not merely passive bystanders. They engage in an array of interactive activities and discussions, respond to scenarios to gauge their response to bullying and empathy levels, and perform acts of service to see beyond the bounds of one’s privilege. My goal is to continue building a larger community of caring individuals through Project Empowerment, knowing that one empathetic heart is all it takes to create a safe space for children who are marginalized or ostracized.

“Achievement can be all the more satisfying because of obstacles surmounted." - William Hastie It was a moment of triumph but it was not mine alone. With a brisk bow, I stepped on the back pedal of Gracie’s wheelchair and spun her around on the stage. We were dancing—both she and I--and it didn’t matter that one of us could not walk. Eight-year-old Gracie has cerebral palsy but she loves to dance. From 2017 through 2019, I volunteered as a dance assistant with 2Dance2Dream, helping fulfill little dancers’ dreams. Their dreams aren’t that much different from mine. I have been dancing since I was 3. With six years of ballet, three years of jazz and now as a team member of Warrior Pride, I have been on many stages and have been a part of countless recitals, but none were as joyful to me as dancing with those little dancers on stage with differently-abled bodies, their hearts full, and their eyes brighter than the blinding lights on stage. The fascinating part of these encounters was these children never feared the obstacles they faced in the pursuit of their passion to dance. They forged ahead undeterred by the limitations of their bodies and, in the process, were able to form strong bonds with one another. Unfortunately, 2Dance2Dream closed its doors during the pandemic because it was unable to obtain funding. I hope to start a program similar to 2Dance2Dream on or off campus. By providing free dance instruction to children with disabilities, we could encourage them to nurture a passion to dance. I believe every person has a right to pursue their passion and we as a society need to do everything in our power to remove barriers and make this world an equitable stage for them.

My friend Suhana is like no other girl I know. She does not answer when I call her. She does not play tag or hopscotch with me, and she does not ride a bike. We have never had a playdate. When my teacher suggested free writing in second grade, the paper in front of me represented endless possibilities, but the topic I chose was the one most dear to my heart. I wrote about Suhana. One year before this, I had started volunteering at a special needs center in our community. When I walked into the center and saw Suhana in a wheelchair, I was immediately intrigued. I found out that she has cerebral palsy. At the center, I rocked with Suhana on the floor. There were joyful moments in between Suhana’s shrieking that gave me a glimpse of her soft heart, her affection for me, and her eagerness to be a part of my world. Upon reading my essay, my teacher immediately called my mother. Inspired by the depth of emotion my story evoked in everyone who read it, my mother and I decided to turn it into a picture book. My Friend Suhana was accepted for publication and was released when I turned 10. It was awarded the Dolly Gray Children’s Literature Award. The next few months were a blur of activity for me with book signings, readings, school visits, and media interviews. My experiences have shaped who I am today. I will always look back and feel the guiding influence of Suhana, an early mentor.

When German artist and printmaker Otto Dix painted the now controversial Der Schützengraben (The Trench), it was in response to his gut-wrenching experience as a soldier in World War I and his resulting post-traumatic stress disorder. The painting not only captured the gory aftermath of a devastating bombardment but also laid open Dix’s own inner turmoil. The reaction to the piece was swift; it was deemed unpatriotic, confiscated by the Nazi regime, and was included in the exhibition of degenerate art. Dix became an outcast overnight, classified as mentally ill and morally corrupt. In 1931, The Trench was described by a leading American curator Alfred H. Barr as “perhaps the most famous picture in post-war Europe … a masterpiece of unspeakable horror.” History differs from the arts in that interpretations within its context typically serve the purpose of attaching meaning to or providing explanations for past occurrences. History strongly relies on primary and secondary sources to form its widely accepted interpretations. When an artistic interpretation falsely presents the artist’s intent, such that it alters the meaning of the piece or the reputation of the creator, it would likely be regarded as a poor interpretation as in the case of The Trench. This is due to the fact that such interpretations detract from the accuracy of the theme of the piece as well as its authenticity. Our understandings of the world around us in arts and history in particular, are largely evidence-driven or based on past knowledge. Interpretation of such artifacts in my findings is complicated and can be biased due to contextual factors––social, political, emotional, or cultural––at the time of the work’s creation or upon its subsequent examination. Today, Dix's Trench is regarded as one of the precursors to modern art.

This may sound like an unlikely choice but it is a picture book my mother gave to me on my 15th birthday. You may think of a picture book as an odd choice for a teen but this book is very profound and meaningful. The book is called Someday by Alison McGhee and illustrated by Peter H. Reynolds. It captures the essence of a mother's dream for her daughter as she goes through the various transitions in her life–first as a baby ("One day I counted your fingers and kissed each one"), then as a child and teen ("Someday you will swing high—so high, higher than you ever dared to swing"), to an adult ("Someday I will watch you brushing your child's hair"), and finally as a grandmother ("Someday, a long time from now, your own hair will glow silver in the sun. And when that day comes, love, you will remember me"). In my opinion, this book seems to be intended more for adults or grown up kids than the usual target group of general picture books. It is very hard to read Someday and not get emotional. It's a message that can resonate with every girl no matter her age but especially the ones getting ready to graduate and go to college. A rare classic and a keepsake that should be in the possession of every girl to reflect on the next chapter of her life.

My friend Suhana is like no other girl I know. She does not answer when I call her. She does not play tag or hopscotch with me, and she does not ride a bike. We have never had a playdate. It was 2011, and I was a second grader. When my teacher suggested free writing, the paper in front of me represented endless possibilities, but the topic I chose was the one most dear to my heart. I wrote about Suhana. I did not know it then but Suhana’s influence was about to impact the trajectory of my entire life. One year before this, I had started volunteering at a special needs center in our community. When I walked into the center and saw Suhana, I was immediately intrigued. She seemed to be around my age and was sitting in a red wheelchair. I gravitated toward her in the hopes of striking a conversation. However, it quickly became pretty clear to me that Suhana was completely nonverbal. I found out that she has cerebral palsy. Ever an optimist, I was undeterred. At the center, I rocked with Suhana on the floor. I drew pictures of her favorite things. I handed her toys that would vibrate upon pushing or pulling. There were moments in between Suhana’s rocking and shrieking that gave me a glimpse of her soft heart, her affection for me, and her eagerness to be a part of the world that was so easy for me to access but posed a real challenge to her. Thus, during that life-altering moment of free writing in second grade, I wrote about my unique bond with Suhana. I talked about our friendship and how it flourished without the need for spoken words. Upon reading my essay, my teacher immediately called my mother to compliment my work and asked the foremost question on her mind: “Is Suhana real?” Inspired by the depth of emotion my story evoked in everyone who read it, my mother and I decided to turn my childhood essay into a picture book. My Friend Suhana was accepted for publication and was released when I turned 10. Subsequently, the book and its accompanying story became much bigger than I ever expected or imagined. My Friend Suhana sold more than 3,000 copies and was awarded the coveted Dolly Gray Children’s Literature Award. The next few months were a blur of activity for me with book signings, readings, school visits, and media interviews. I was unable to process the significance of what had occurred in my life. I did notice, however, that I felt a deeper connection with children, especially those who were disabled or faced health or developmental challenges. In elementary school, I offered my friendship to a highly-anxious student on the spectrum. I also stood up to bullies who threatened her well-being (which, along with other experiences, led me to create Project Empowerment, an award-winning anti-bullying program). My school’s deaf education immersion program allowed me to interact with hearing-impaired children in classrooms via sign language. Teachers would pull me out of class to accompany special needs kids in therapy sessions. Over the years, I have continued to volunteer at the center and engage with Suhana. In sixth grade, I researched ways to help calm someone like Suhana, and designed a sensory vest for her to wear to school. I received the Prudential Award for that project. In high school, I volunteered at a special needs dance program called 2dance2dream, combining my love for dancing with my passion to serve little ones who are disabled. For my IB extended essay, I am writing a research paper on the effects of racial bias within the medical field. I hope to continue working on that research while at college and eventually develop tools and training to address such bias and to ensure fair and equitable access of quality medical care to all—regardless of race, color, gender, or sexual orientation. At present I am also providing online research support to Dr. Seema Lalani, associate professor of the department of molecular and human genetics at Baylor College of Medicine for her paper on de novo mutation in MAP3K20 that causes ectrodactyly and sensorineural hearing loss. I hope to continue both of these works as a Health Science Scholar. I was recently accepted into the Health Science Scholar honors program at the University of Texas at Austin where I will pursue my path of becoming a neonatologist. This honors program has the necessary framework to help me grow in my chosen field with ground-breaking research opportunities, a world-renowned honors curriculum, and a rare chance to serve the community. My goal is to become a neonatologist focused on providing diagnostic, interventional, and evidence-based care to preterm babies. Statistics are not in the favor of premature newborns. About 450,000 of them are born early in the United States. Nearly 50% of them will develop abnormal brain functions, and at least 15% of them will end up with severe disabilities requiring lifelong care. After receiving my undergraduate degree, I will apply to a prestigious medical program such as Dell Medical School to continue my journey. My undergraduate degree as a biology major is a very crucial first step in my long journey to become a competent physician for neonates. My experiences have shaped who I am today and allow me to appreciate the versatility and strength of uncommon friendships. I will always look back and feel the guiding influence of Suhana, an early mentor.

As an artist, one must consider the significance, implications, and potential interpretations behind every artistic choice made. My art piece titled “Empathy on a Disc” was created on a vinyl record in an attempt to show that distance matters less when people from different sides of the world get together. The idea was born literally on my driveway. My family moved to a new neighborhood a few years ago and we were immediately embraced by a host of friendly neighbors. The common denominator was that people on both sides of our street were of South Asian descent. Most of them have children close to the age of my younger sister. We are surrounded by compassionate and non-judgmental “aunts” eager to step in and help where needed. At no time was this support more tested or evident than during the pandemic and the Texas snowstorm when affected families were given necessities voluntarily by thoughtful neighbors. While no one in this new neighborhood is my age, I happily accepted the role of the incidental big sister. It is not uncommon to see us all–the sweaty and dusty elementary-aged children, the preteens, the occasional dog or two, and me, the lone teen--huddled together with our face masks on, creating chalk masterpieces on asphalt. On the record’s left side I etched silhouettes of the Taj Mahal, grand archways, and buildings in the city of Agra and on the other side I tried to bring to life the skyline of New York City. I painted the side that was India in daytime, while the side that was New York was cloaked in dusk. What connects the two markedly distinct places are their mutual awareness of each other’s existence in the world and the ability of both to comprehend differences yet provide spaces to interact.

I was most fortunate to not experience any major setback in my life due to the pandemic. While my academic and extracurricular activities turned virtual, I remained unscathed. My mother runs a design firm from home so her work was largely unaffected, apart from some expected loss of business. My father, who is a procurement director for the local transit agency, suffered no adversity since his workplace allowed him the flexibility to work from home. My family decided to homeschool my younger sister and she thrived with the extra attention and time. Mentally though we were all affected by the loss of lives and anguish of those around us. We lost a few older relatives to COVID-19. 2dance2dream–a program very dear to my heart where I provided dance instruction to children with special needs closed down permanently. I tried to make the most of the situation by improving my overall health by mindful eating and exercising. It was also during the pandemic that I founded Project Empowerment—a 5-week online anti-bullying program designed to foster empathy and courage in young girls (project-empowerment.com). ​​In my research, I discovered three eye-opening facts: almost 30% of youth in the United States are involved in bullying as either a perpetrator, a target, or both; half of bullying situations stop when a peer intervenes; and nowadays, the average American is less empathetic than 75% of Americans were 30 years ago. It was devastating for me to find out that we seemed to be losing that trait in present day society. Over a period of 6 months, I developed a comprehensive curriculum for Project Empowerment. So far, my team and I have delivered this training to 15 children. My goal is to continue building a larger community of caring individuals through Project Empowerment.

It was a moment of triumph but it was not mine alone. With a brisk bow, I stepped on the back pedal of Gracie’s wheelchair and spun her around on the stage. We were dancing—both she and I—and it didn’t matter that one of us could not walk. Eight-year-old Gracie has cerebral palsy but she loves to dance. From 2017 through 2019, I volunteered as a dance assistant with 2Dance2Dream, helping fulfill little dancers’ dreams. Their dreams aren’t that much different from mine. I have been dancing since I was 3. With six years of ballet, three years of jazz and now as a team member of Warrior Pride, I have been on many stages and have been a part of countless recitals, but none were as joyful to me as dancing with those little dancers on stage with differently-abled bodies, their hearts full, and their eyes brighter than the blinding lights on stage. Unfortunately, 2Dance2Dream closed its doors during the pandemic because it was unable to obtain funding. I hope to partner with Dance Action or Latinx Theatre Initiative to start a program similar to 2Dance2Dream where we can offer free dance instruction to children with disabilities and encourage them to nurture a passion to dance. I believe every person has a right to pursue their passion and we as a society need to do everything in our power to make this world an equitable stage for them.

The girls huddled in cliques; their hypercritical eyes darted up and down at me as I walked through the halls. In fact, the girls’ determination to befriend me was only to share online the things I had told them in confidence. Afterwards, came the intentional exclusion from social media when I wouldn’t comply. But it was the seemingly mild, yet soul-puncturing phrase, “You’re so stupid!” that wounded me daily and echoed continuously in my ears. My inner strength weakened. It didn’t matter that I was a published author and a good student with decent grades; they still managed to steal power from me with name-calling, insults, cyberbullying and intimidation tactics. Bullying in middle school impaired my confidence and led to apprehension and anxiety. At the conclusion of seventh grade, my family moved to another area where I attended a different school. With a fresh start and my admittance to a group of new friends who cherished me, I steadily regained the confidence I had been robbed of in the past. Equally important to me was the opportunity to examine what leads people to bully others. In my research, I discovered that almost 30% of youth in the United States are involved in bullying as either a perpetrator, a target, or both. My experience, research, discovery, and subsequent growth motivated me to take action, so in high school I decided to informally mentor young girls in my community who had experienced bullying. I soon realized that this circle of impact needed to grow wider. During the pandemic, I founded Project Empowerment–a 5-week online anti-bullying program designed to foster empathy and courage in young girls (project-empowerment.com). Over a period of 6 months, I developed a comprehensive curriculum for the project. The idea is to catch girls at the age preceding middle school and have them examine issues on a multitude of levels: self, family, school, community, and the world to see how their actions impact others. Participants in Project Empowerment are called Care Agents who are trained to be outstanding upstanders not merely passive bystanders. They engage in an array of interactive activities and discussions, respond to scenarios to gauge their response to cyber and other forms of bullying and empathy levels, receive tips and self-help skills to deal with bullying, build a support system, and perform acts of service to see beyond the bounds of one’s privilege. My work with Project Empowerment led me to receive the KVUE Our Future Award—a recognition by the Austin ABC TV affiliate of students in Central Texas who excel in some way. I also received a grant from The Gathering for Justice—a social justice organization founded by Harry Belafonte. Having witnessed—and survived—strong bonds between close friends curdle and turn toxic, I have learned, as a social activist, that progress is possible. My goal is to continue building a larger community of caring individuals through Project Empowerment, knowing that one empathetic heart is all it takes to create a safe space for children who are marginalized or ostracized.

To me it is a matter of grave concern that Medicaid services in Texas have been failing those children who should be at the top of the list—the ones with disabilities. A few years ago, Texas handed over the Medicaid services for disabled children to private companies, unleashing longer wait times and reduction of services. In 2011, the state decided to limit eligibility for Early Childhood Intervention (ECI) services to address a budget shortfall. The ECI funding fell from $166 million in 2011 to about $148 million in 2019. If I were a policymaker in Texas, I would get with like-minded peers to write legislation that would put a protective shield over the funds allocated for disabled children for intervention, therapies, and services—meaning that any shortfall of budget would not allow the state to dip into that dedicated pool of funds. School districts in Texas are not required to tell parents that their children can qualify for Medicaid assistance until they turn 14. I will work on legislation that would increase the funding districts receive to offer evaluations and to provide the services of therapists to determine Medicaid eligibility for children at risk and to notify parents early on. I will also work with disability advocates to make some meaningful gains to support the inclusion of homecare in Texas’ infrastructure bill—which would be a huge undertaking considering the effort to push for the plan is struggling even at the federal level without enough support from the Congress.

The girls huddled in cliques; their hypercritical eyes darted up and down at me as I walked through the halls in my new clothes confidently laid out the night before. Afterwards, came the intentional exclusion from their groups when I wouldn’t comply. It didn’t matter that I was a good student with decent grades; they still managed to steal power from me with name-calling, insults, and intimidation tactics. Bullying in middle school impaired my confidence. I was one of the stats. Almost 30% of youth in the United States are involved in bullying as either a perpetrator, a target, or both. At the conclusion of seventh grade, my family moved to another area where I attended a different school and soon regained my confidence. My experience, research, and subsequent growth motivated me to take action, so during the pandemic, I founded Project Empowerment—an award-winning online anti-bullying program designed to foster empathy and courage in young girls. Participants in Project Empowerment are called Care Agents who are trained to be outstanding upstanders not merely passive bystanders. They engage in an array of interactive activities and discussions, respond to scenarios to gauge their response to bullying and empathy levels, and perform acts of service to see beyond the bounds of one’s privilege. My goal is to continue building a larger community of caring individuals through Project Empowerment, knowing that one empathetic heart is all it takes to create a safe space for children who are marginalized or ostracized.

There are moments in leadership positions where you learn more from active listening than in any training. Neha, Raya, and Amaan were three children who taught me that. It was my second year as a counselor at Camp Mosaic–a six-day summer camp for children, focused on building lifelong relationships—but it wasn’t always easy. In my group Neha and Raya were the polar opposites of each other. While Neha had selective mutism and was shy and distant, Raya was loud, hyper, and disruptive. A single approach would not have worked for these participants—so, I pivoted. Neha refused to participate in any of the activities and during sports opted to sit out. This was my perfect opportunity to reach out to her. I asked her about her interests and to my surprise, she opened up immediately. She told me how she swims competitively and from that point on, she lost her shyness with me. I had somehow found her trust, and during the process, her voice. Raya was a whole different story. She was a firecracker that refused to be contained so I gauged her interests through conversation and made the most of the sports and movement activities to channel her energy. Often after those physically enduring sessions, she was calmer and able to focus on other activities. She made many friends that year and I was very proud of her. Camp Mosaic taught me that active listening and leading with compassion is the only way to bring forth real change.

It was a phone call from a well-meaning teacher that changed the trajectory of my life. It was 2011, and I was a second grader. When Mrs. Henning suggested free writing, the paper in front of me represented endless possibilities, but the topic I chose to write on was the one most dear to my heart. I wrote about Suhana. One year before this, I had started volunteering at a special needs center. When I first walked into the center and saw Suhana, I was immediately intrigued. I found out that Suhana has cerebral palsy. At the center, I rocked with Suhana on the floor. I drew pictures of her favorite things. There were moments in between Suhana’s rocking and shrieking that gave me a glimpse of her affection for me and her eagerness to be a part of the world that was so easy for me to access but posed a real challenge to her. Thus, during that life-altering moment of free writing in second grade, I wrote about my unique bond with Suhana. Upon reading my essay, my teacher called my mother to ask the foremost question on her mind: Is Suhana real? Inspired by the depth of emotion my story evoked in everyone who read it, my mother and I turned my childhood essay into a picture book. My Friend Suhana was released when I turned 10, and received the Dolly Gray Children’s Literature Award. The next few months were a blur of activity with book signings, readings, school visits, and media interviews. I often wonder where my life would be now if my second-grade teacher had not taken the time to call my mother that day. I believe that passionate and committed educators can forever alter their students’ destinies. I am a living example of that.

Tiny humans have always fascinated me—their curiosity, innocence, abilities, and yes, even their disabilities. What intrigues me most are two factors—their sheer determination to not let anything hold them back and their remarkable inner strength to bounce back from any situation. These elements are precisely what I think make the job of a pediatrician very rewarding. My path as a biology major at the College of Natural Sciences at UT-Austin will provide me with the necessary tools to become a competent pediatric physician with research opportunities in the field of biology. Biology provides you a clear lens to see how the living world moves, grows, and functions—and sometimes lapses. Take for instance Dr. Seema Agarwala’s research to study the cellular and molecular mechanisms involved in neural tube closure, and how anencephaly and spina bifida can occur when this very intricate process suddenly goes haywire. Or, consider Dr. Haley Tucker’s work on reprogramming somatic cells to stem cells and developing new methodology for producing vaccines. Research and advancement in the field of biology such as these can have a profound impact on future generations and can affect the quality of life. For my IB extended essay, I am writing a research paper on the effects of racial bias within the medical field. I hope to continue working on that research while at UT-Austin and eventually develop tools and training to address such bias and to ensure fair and equitable access of quality medical care to all—regardless of race, color, gender, or sexual orientation. After receiving my undergraduate degree from the College of Natural Sciences, I will apply to a prestigious medical program such as Dell Medical School to continue my journey. My goal is to become a neonatologist focused on providing diagnostic, interventional, and evidence-based care to preterm babies.

It was a moment of triumph but it was not mine alone. With a brisk bow, I stepped on the back pedal of Gracie’s wheelchair and spun her around on the stage. We were dancing—both she and I—and it didn’t matter that one of us could not walk. Eight-year-old Gracie has cerebral palsy but she loves to dance. From 2017 through 2019, I volunteered as a dance assistant with 2Dance2Dream, helping fulfill little dancers’ dreams. Their dreams aren’t that much different from mine. I have been dancing since I was 3. With six years of ballet, three years of jazz and now as a team member of Warrior Pride, I have been on many stages and have been a part of countless recitals, but none were as joyful to me as dancing with those little dancers on stage with differently-abled bodies, their hearts full, and their eyes brighter than the blinding lights on stage. Unfortunately, 2Dance2Dream closed its doors during the pandemic because it was unable to obtain funding. I hope to partner with Dance Action or Latinx Theatre Initiative to start a program similar to 2Dance2Dream where we can offer free dance instruction to children with disabilities and encourage them to nurture a passion to dance. I believe every person has a right to pursue their passion and we as a society need to do everything in our power to make this world an equitable stage for them.

As an artist, one must consider the significance, implications, and potential interpretations behind every artistic choice made. My art piece titled “Empathy on a Disc” was created on a vinyl record in an attempt to show that distance matters less when people from different sides of the world get together. My family moved to a new neighborhood and we were immediately embraced by a host of friendly neighbors. The common denominator was that people on both sides of our street were of South Asian descent. At no time was this support more tested or evident than during the pandemic and the Texas snowstorm when affected families were given food and necessities. While no one in this new neighborhood is my age, I happily accepted the role of the incidental big sister. It is not uncommon to see us all–the sweaty and dusty elementary-aged children, the preteens, the occasional dog or two, and me, the lone teen--huddled together with our face masks on, creating chalk masterpieces on asphalt. Life cannot be viewed from a singular lens without consideration for what another person lives through or experiences. So, on the record’s left side I etched silhouettes of the Taj Mahal and on the other side, I tried to bring to life the Austin downtown. What connects the two markedly distinct places are their mutual awareness of each other’s existence in the world. Embracing our differences and growing from it is what is to me a true Texas spirit.

My friend Suhana is like no other girl I know. She does not answer when I call her. She does not play tag or hopscotch with me, and she does not ride a bike. We have never had a playdate. It was 2011, and I was a second grader. When my teacher suggested free writing, the paper in front of me represented endless possibilities, but the topic I chose was the one most dear to my heart. I wrote about Suhana. I did not know it then but Suhana’s influence was about to impact the trajectory of my entire life. One year before this, I had started volunteering at a special needs center in our community. When I walked into the center and saw Suhana, I was immediately intrigued. She seemed to be around my age and was sitting in a red wheelchair. I gravitated toward her in the hopes of striking a conversation. However, it quickly became pretty clear to me that Suhana was completely nonverbal. I found out that she has cerebral palsy. Ever an optimist, I was undeterred. At the center, I rocked with Suhana on the floor. Art was our connection. I drew pictures of her favorite things. I handed her toys that would vibrate upon pushing or pulling. There were moments in between Suhana’s rocking and shrieking that gave me a glimpse of her soft heart, her affection for me, and her eagerness to be a part of the world that was so easy for me to access but posed a real challenge to her. Thus, during that life-altering moment of free writing in second grade, I wrote about my unique bond with Suhana. I talked about our friendship and how it flourished without the need for spoken words. Upon reading my essay, my teacher immediately called my mother to compliment my work and asked the foremost question on her mind: “Is Suhana real?” Inspired by the depth of emotion my story evoked in everyone who read it, my mother and I decided to turn my childhood essay into a picture book. My Friend Suhana was accepted for publication and was released when I turned 10. Subsequently, the book and its accompanying story became much bigger than I ever expected or imagined. My Friend Suhana sold more than 3,000 copies and was awarded the coveted Dolly Gray Children’s Literature Award. The next few months were a blur of activity for me with book signings, readings, school visits, and media interviews. I was unable to process the significance of what had occurred in my life. I did notice, however, that I felt a deeper connection with children, especially those who were disabled or faced health or developmental challenges. In elementary school, I offered my friendship to a highly-anxious student on the spectrum. I also stood up to bullies who threatened her well-being (which, along with other experiences, led me to create Project Empowerment, an award-winning anti-bullying program). My school’s deaf education immersion program allowed me to interact with hearing-impaired children in classrooms via sign language. Teachers would pull me out of class to accompany special needs kids in therapy sessions. Over the years, I have continued to volunteer at the center and engage with Suhana. In sixth grade, I researched ways to help calm someone like Suhana, and designed a sensory vest for her to wear to school. I received the Prudential Award for that invention. In high school, I volunteered at a special needs dance program called 2dance2dream, combining my love for dancing with my passion to serve little ones who are disabled. My experiences have shaped who I am today and allowed me to appreciate the versatility and strength of uncommon friendships. I plan to pursue my education in medicine, where I will follow my passion in improving the lives of children. My decision to major in biology is inspired by two factors: my lifelong passion of improving healthcare experience for children and being around role models who are in the field of medicine. For my IB extended essay, I am writing a research paper on the effects of racial bias within the medical field. Through my research, I hope to gain insight into the manners in which racial stereotypes and bias impact the administration of care. I hope to continue working on that research while at college and eventually develop tools and training to address such bias. As a future physician, I believe it to be of utmost importance to learn and address the signs of an unconscious bias in medicine and to ensure fair and equitable access of quality medical care to all—regardless of race, color, gender, or sexual orientation. As a biology major, pursuing the path of becoming a pediatrician, I hope to gain the necessary expertise to help children overcome illness through quality care. Medicine is a fascinating field that allows one to investigate the science of the human body and its inner workings while simultaneously making a difference in the life of another person. While the study of biology provides you a clear lens to see how the living world grows and functions—and sometimes lapses as in the case of Suhana. As I pursue my journey, I will always look back and feel the guiding influence of an early mentor, Suhana.

My friend Suhana is like no other girl I know. She does not answer when I call her. She does not play tag or hopscotch with me, and she does not ride a bike. We have never had a playdate. When my teacher suggested free writing in second grade, the paper in front of me represented endless possibilities, but the topic I chose was the one most dear to my heart. I wrote about Suhana. One year before this, I had started volunteering at a special needs center in our community. When I walked into the center and saw Suhana in a wheelchair, I was immediately intrigued. I found out that she has cerebral palsy. At the center, I rocked with Suhana on the floor. There were moments in between Suhana’s shrieking that gave me a glimpse of her soft heart, her affection for me, and her eagerness to be a part of my world. Upon reading my essay, my teacher immediately called my mother to compliment my work. Inspired by the depth of emotion my story evoked in everyone who read it, my mother and I decided to turn my childhood essay into a picture book. My Friend Suhana was accepted for publication and was released when I turned 10. It was awarded the coveted Dolly Gray Children’s Literature Award. The next few months were a blur of activity for me with book signings, readings, school visits, and media interviews. In sixth grade, I researched ways to help calm someone like Suhana, and designed a sensory vest for her to wear to school. My experiences have shaped who I am today. I will always look back and feel the guiding influence of Suhana, an early mentor.

The girls huddled in cliques; their hypercritical eyes darted up and down at me as I walked through the halls in my new, blue, skinny jeans and knitted rose pink sweater, confidently laid out the night before. Trust. I sought it. Delivered it. Expected it. But it’s just a five-letter word. In fact, the girls’ determination to befriend me was only to share with others the things I had told them in confidence. Afterwards, came the intentional exclusion from their groups when I wouldn’t comply. But it was the seemingly mild, yet soul-puncturing phrase, “You’re so stupid!” that wounded me daily and echoed continuously in my ears, from one classroom seat to the next. My inner strength weakened. It didn’t matter that I was a published author and a good student with decent grades; they still managed to steal power from me with name-calling, insults, and intimidation tactics. Bullying in middle school impaired my confidence and led to apprehension and anxiety. At the conclusion of seventh grade, my family moved to another area where I attended a different school. With a fresh start and my admittance to a group of new friends who cherished me, I steadily regained the confidence I had been robbed of in the past. Equally important to me was the opportunity to examine what leads people to bully others and to think critically about my past experience. In my research, I discovered three eye-opening facts: almost 30% of youth in the United States are involved in bullying as either a perpetrator, a target, or both; half of bullying situations stop when a peer intervenes; and nowadays, the average American is less empathetic than 75% of Americans were 30 years ago. Empathy is a quality needed to form friendships. It’s necessary for teamwork and, in the larger scheme of the world, it’s required for peaceful coexistence. It was devastating for me to find out that we seemed to be losing that trait in present-day society. My experience, research, discovery, and subsequent growth motivated me to take action, so in high school I decided to informally mentor young girls in my community who had experienced bullying. I coached them on differentiating between healthy versus damaging friendships, provided them with tools to combat bullying, and helped raise their self-esteem through conversations and activities. I soon realized that this circle of impact needed to grow wider. During the pandemic, I founded Project Empowerment––a 5-week online anti-bullying program designed to foster empathy and courage in young girls (project-empowerment.com). Over a period of 6 months, I developed a comprehensive curriculum for the project. The idea is to catch girls at the age preceding middle school and have them examine issues on a multitude of levels: self, family, school, community, and the world to see how their actions impact others. Participants in Project Empowerment are called Care Agents who are trained to be outstanding upstanders not merely passive bystanders. They engage in an array of interactive activities and discussions, respond to scenarios to gauge their response to bullying and empathy levels, receive tips and self-help skills to deal with bullying, build a support system, and perform acts of service to see beyond the bounds of one’s privilege. My work with Project Empowerment led me to receive the KVUE Our Future Award—a recognition by the Austin ABC TV affiliate of students in Central Texas who excel in some way. I also received a grant from The Gathering for Justice—a social justice organization founded by Harry Belafonte. Having witnessed––and survived––strong bonds between close friends curdle and turn toxic, I have learned, as a social activist, that progress is possible. My goal is to continue building a larger community of caring individuals through Project Empowerment, knowing that one empathetic heart is all it takes to create a safe space for children who are marginalized or ostracized.

As an artist, one must consider the significance, implications, and potential interpretations behind every artistic choice made. Take for instance my art piece titled “Empathy on a Disc” that I created on a vinyl record in an attempt to show that distance matters less when people from different sides of the world get together. The idea was born literally on my driveway. My family moved to a new neighborhood a few years ago and we were immediately embraced by a host of friendly neighbors. The common denominator was that we are all of South Asian descent. Most of the neighbors have children close to the age of my younger sister. We are surrounded by compassionate and non-judgmental “aunts” eager to step in and help where needed. At no time was this support more tested or evident than during the pandemic when families shared food and necessities. While no one in this new neighborhood is my age, I happily accepted the role of the incidental big sister. It is not uncommon to see us all–the sweaty and dusty elementary-aged children, the preteens, the occasional dog or two, and me, the lone teen--huddled together with our face masks on, creating chalk masterpieces on asphalt. Life cannot be viewed from a singular lens without consideration for what another person experiences. So, on the record’s left side I etched silhouettes of the Taj Mahal, grand archways, and buildings in the city of Agra. Next, I worked on the other side where I tried to bring to life the skyline of New York City. The two cities in many ways are vastly different. What connects the two places are their mutual awareness of each other’s existence in the world. The geographical and other differences when viewed from that lens become blurry and insignificant.