Skimming the page, I realized I clicked on the wrong link. I was about to close the tab when something caught my eye: “Calling all student diplomats! Sign up for a youth dialogue on international relations.” Drawn to the inviting poster and the promise of three days off school, I applied on a whim, not thinking much of it. Two weeks later, I was pleasantly surprised to receive an invitation to attend. The Harvard Undergraduate Foreign Policy Initiative (HUFPI) turned out to be life-changing. I met Henry Kissinger and Eric Schmidt (the former CEO of Google) and got to participate in a 3-day project on global health infrastructure while hearing directly from the experts in the field. Yet, that wasn’t the part of the conference I found most valuable. Though the lecture series and project experience were incredible, my most important takeaway from the conference was the inspiration I took from my peers. There were 400 students from over 150 countries - I didn’t even know that there were that many countries. As the conference drew to a bittersweet close, I couldn’t help but wonder: when and where would I get to do something like this again? I started looking for more similar opportunities, but constantly ran into high paywalls or extremely low acceptance rates. I felt stuck in a negative feedback loop - I needed experience to get a job or internship, but I also needed a job or internship to get that initial experience. A lot of my friends felt stuck in the same rut, and it left me wishing for a platform where students could share starting points. Tired of waiting, I made my own. With a few of my friends from the conference, I created a simple WhatsApp group chat to share opportunities for career exploration. Despite living all over the world, we had a surprising amount in common: frustrating classes, favorite teachers, and the same drive to take our career exploration into our own hands. The organic expansion was significant in the first few months; everyone who joined loved it and added their friends. As momentum continued to build, I realized student-run organizations provided opportunities, and other students were seeking them: why couldn’t we bridge the two worlds? This sparked the beginning of our first major project within Compass4Careers: the Nonprofit Network Initiative, (NNI), a platform I created to connect students with other student-run organizations. I initially spent hours reaching out to founders and organizations to participate in the initiative. On a good day, I would send out fifty emails and receive two responses. But I kept at it. Eventually, our organization grew to over eighty-five student-run nonprofits from all over the world, with thousands of students between all of the members of the Nonprofit Network Initiative. I personally met with all 85 founders in our NNI. Like the conference I had attended, each conversation helped us create projects and partnerships for further impact. During one such conversation, I spoke with another founder about the expenses of attending youth dialogue conferences, and this eventually led to hosting our own Model UN conference with sponsored financial aid, increasing accessibility and removing economic barriers. This is one of the many events that was born out of these meetings, showcasing what made Compass4Careers truly unique. If I could draw a map of all the journeys I went on, all the roads would lead back to the misclick as the starting point. It serves as a reminder to seize every opportunity that I come across in the future by taking that first step, accidentally or intentionally.

In my grandmother’s village in Tamil Nadu, no one used the word “arthritis.” Her stiffened joints were described as just “the price of growing old,” and any sign of discomfort was met with quiet endurance. Even after three relatives were diagnosed, treatment was delayed—not because the medicine didn’t exist, but because information didn’t reach the people who needed it. That silence—around health, pain, and vulnerability—is something I’ve seen echoed in the broader Asian American community, particularly around mental health and disability. Cultural expectations of endurance, perfection, and privacy often frame help-seeking as weakness rather than strength. But when conversations are suppressed, conditions worsen. Generational trauma remains unspoken, learning differences go unsupported, and the stigma continues. I’ve seen this firsthand through my work in education and public health. While tutoring younger students—many of them Asian American—I noticed how afraid they were to make mistakes. Even in supportive environments, they hesitated to speak up or ask questions, often apologizing before answering. From a young age, they had internalized the pressure to perform perfectly. I later became an onboarding lead for SchoolHouseWorld, helping new tutors create welcoming, low-pressure classrooms where students could engage without fear of judgment. I also led vaccine and gene literacy projects through miRcore, advocating for health access with empathy and clarity. I realized early on that change happens not when you speak the loudest, but when you listen hardest. That belief shapes everything I do. I’m currently studying neuroscience and cognitive science with a minor in business because I want to understand how people think, learn, and heal. Mental health advocacy isn’t just about awareness—it’s about design. I want to build education and healthcare systems that work for the people who are least likely to be heard. For Asian American youth navigating pressures from both culture and society, that means creating safe spaces where they feel seen, supported, and represented. My work with Compass4Careers—a student-led nonprofit I founded to connect young people to career resources and student-run organizations—taught me how to scale community. What began as a WhatsApp group is now a global platform with thousands of members and over 85 partner organizations. We even hosted our own Model UN conference with financial aid for students who otherwise couldn’t afford to attend. That’s what leadership means to me: removing barriers and building bridges. But advocacy is also personal. As a woman in STEM, I’ve rarely had professors or mentors who looked like me. That absence matters. It’s part of why I hope to teach at a medical school in the future—so that younger women, especially Asian American students, can see themselves in places of authority and care. Visibility isn’t just inspiring; it’s necessary. This scholarship would allow me to devote more time to that mission. Currently, I work multiple jobs to support my tuition, which limits the time I can dedicate to advocacy, research, and mentorship. With this support, I could step away from work I do out of financial necessity and invest more in building inclusive health education platforms, expanding my nonprofit’s reach, and preparing for graduate study. More than anything, it would give me space to focus on what matters most: reshaping systems that too often exclude the people they claim to serve. Advocating for mental health and disability in the Asian American community means challenging silence with compassion, and stigma with science. It’s slow, often invisible work—but it’s the kind of work I’m committed to for life.

A misclick changed everything. I was a sophomore casually browsing the internet when I accidentally opened a youth diplomacy conference link. I nearly closed the tab, but curiosity got the better of me. That moment led me to the Harvard Undergraduate Foreign Policy Initiative, where I collaborated with students from over 150 countries on a project about global health infrastructure. It was the first time I saw how students—especially those with limited access to resources—could contribute to solving systemic problems. That experience sparked a deeper mission in me: to create equitable systems where education and healthcare work hand in hand. I care deeply about helping students and communities gain the tools to make informed decisions about their health, education, and futures. As someone drawn to both science and storytelling, I see myself as a translator—bridging technical knowledge and everyday lives. What drives me is knowing that access and understanding should not be luxuries. They should be rights. I feel personally connected to the global issue of health literacy and medical access. My grandmother was the third in her family to be diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis, but because she lived in rural Tamil Nadu, she didn’t receive treatment in time. I watched her joints swell and her mobility decline—knowing that a simple diagnosis or earlier intervention might have changed everything. Her story is not unique; it mirrors that of countless others, both in India and in underserved communities around the world. What frustrates me most is that the science and information existed—but it wasn’t accessible to the people who needed it most. If I could create lasting change in this space, I would scale a model that combines science education, public health outreach, and community-based learning. I’ve already tested this model in smaller forms. At miRcore, I led advocacy workshops that taught citizens how to understand their genomes and advocate for vaccines during the pandemic. I created visual, easy-to-follow resources so people could make personalized decisions based on their DNA and medical history. I also founded Compass4Careers, a platform connecting thousands of students to internships, career resources, and other student-run nonprofits. One of our most impactful events was hosting a Model UN conference with sponsored financial aid—removing financial barriers so students like me could participate in global dialogue. These experiences inspired me to study neuroscience and cognitive science, with a minor in business. I chose this path because I want to understand how people think, learn, and process information—and then use those insights to build systems that improve lives. Neuroscience offers me the scientific foundation, while business gives me the tools to scale real-world solutions. My ultimate goal is to design health education platforms that combine evidence-based science with community-centered design. I also hope to teach at a medical school someday, continuing the cycle of learning and mentorship. In the next five years, I aim to launch an education startup focused on personalized science learning, and to enroll in a postgraduate program to deepen my academic and practical skills. My strategy involves expanding the work I’ve already started—reaching more students, partnering with health organizations, and investing time in research and design. I want to blend my interests in education and healthcare to build something transformative. Education—both formal and informal—has helped me realize that I’m most fulfilled when I’m teaching, building, or learning in community. From tutoring on SchoolHouseWorld to running science outreach projects, I’ve discovered that knowledge is powerful—but only when it’s shared. Teaching others has deepened my own understanding of medicine and communication, and it’s shown me that real impact happens when we meet people where they are. As a woman in science, I often look around and notice how rare it is to see people who look like me at the front of the classroom or leading in the lab. That visibility matters. It’s why I aspire not only to practice science, but to teach it—to become the professor or doctor that another young girl can look at and say, “She looks like me.” My identity has shaped my desire to be a role model and a mentor, particularly for women and students from underrepresented communities. To me, leadership means building platforms that allow others to lead. When I founded the Nonprofit Network Initiative under Compass4Careers, I cold-emailed over 50 student-run organizations, often receiving only a few responses. But I kept going. Eventually, we connected 85 student nonprofits, amplifying impact across continents. Leadership wasn’t about spotlight—it was about persistence, listening, and creating something bigger than myself. Being resourceful means starting even when you don’t have all the answers. Whether it was teaching students through blank Zoom screens during the pandemic or organizing global projects with a skeleton team, I’ve learned that innovation often begins in moments of frustration. I don’t give up—I adapt, collaborate, and keep moving. This scholarship would allow me to do exactly that. With tuition support, I could reduce the hours I spend on jobs I take out of financial necessity and dedicate more time to what truly drives me: building educational tools, doing meaningful research, and collaborating with mentors who will help shape my vision. More than anything, it would give me the freedom to focus on the work that will matter most—not just for me, but for the communities I hope to serve.

My grandmother was the third in her family to be diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis. Due to her limited access to medical information and remote location in Neravy, Pondicherry, she didn’t receive treatment in time; I watched my beloved grandmother’s knuckles and joints become stiff due to her condition. My story isn’t unique. I knew so many others in Neravy who suffered from conditions that could have been prevented or eased if they had access to credible medical information. I wished there was a way to bridge the gap in healthcare disparities. Knowing that science literacy could have changed this outcome, I sought opportunities to research and democratize access to medical research in my communities through miRcore, an organization that provides a wide range of science education to my local community. Affectionately known as the MVP, the miRcore volunteer program allowed me to bridge my two interests - genetic research and advocacy - in a meaningful way. Not only was I directly contributing to research funding, but I was also teaching adults and students alike to take control of their own health. My primary method of outreach was through advocacy projects. During the pandemic, I served as a trainer for the miRcore Vaccine Advocacy (MVA) program. I worked with the MVA team to hold empathetic conversations about vaccine hesitancy. The benefits were two-fold: I learned how to have civil discourse in a polarized community and enabled others to make informed decisions and stay safe during a challenging time. Post-pandemic, I worked on a gene literacy project through the pilot Citizen Science Sequencing Initiative. I sequenced my genome for specific cancer markers and created step-by-step slides to help others do the same, empowering more citizens to make personalized medical decisions. At Johns Hopkins,I hope to continue to conduct research that addresses the non-coding RNAs related to autoimmune diseases, like rheumatoid arthritis. This research at the cellular level will let me understand further the pathogenesis of autoimmune diseases, in parallel with addressing the social impact of gene literacy and informed citizenry. In the next four years of college, I hope to continue exploring interdisciplinary approaches to solving large-scale public health problems. In particular, I want to continue my mission of increasing scientific literacy across different cultural and political contexts. My further education will enable me to work on solutions for complex healthcare and information access issues, particularly for underserved communities like my grandmother’s.

My grandmother was the third in her family to be diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis. Due to her limited access to medical information and remote location in Neravy, Tamil Nadu, she didn’t receive treatment in time; I watched my beloved grandmother’s knuckles and joints become stiff due to her condition. My story isn’t unique - I knew so many others in my hometown who suffered from conditions that could have been prevented or eased if they had access to credible medical information. I wished there was a way to bridge the gap in healthcare disparities. Knowing that science literacy could have changed this outcome, I sought opportunities to research and advocate for science literacy in my communities through miRcore, an organization that provides a wide range of science education to my local community. As I enter college at Johns Hopkins in the fall, I will take the next step toward pursuing a career in the field of public health. By staying involved with the Genes in Diseases and Symptoms (GIDAS) organization, I will continue mentoring students in research and advocating for science literacy in the public. As a high school student who benefitted immensely from college-student mentors, I look forward to being that role model for the next generation of high school researchers. Long term, I hope to work on solutions for large-scale health care and information access, particularly for underserved communities like my grandmother’s. I also aspire to become a regular volunteer for Doctors without Borders in order to interact directly with those communities. I also hope to continue researching non-coding RNAs related to autoimmune diseases, like rheumatoid arthritis, in minority communities. This cellular research will let me further understand the pathogenesis of autoimmune diseases, in parallel with addressing the social impact of gene literacy and informed citizenry. I also hope to continue my educational pursuits simultaneously. Through SchoolHouseWorld, a free tutoring service partnered with Khan Academy, where I have volunteered for the past years, I have onboarded over 150 tutors on the platform and currently co-moderate the SAT subworld with over 20,000 members. I also taught over 600 high students at a local prep center, giving me a unique perspective on education in various forms. This experience could serve me well in an education board or EdTech in the future. Ultimately, I plan to amalgamate my skills to impact the world positively. Whether that be through research or education, I know that my goal at the end of each day is still what my grandmother taught me: to make the world a better place than it was yesterday.

I recently started my own nonprofit, Compass4Careers. I wanted to create a place for high schoolers to share opportunities, and get away from the competitive environment of school and grades. I had many ideas, like a peer-reviewed summer program/internship list to help other students find their career paths. I was so excited to start! Then, BOOM! The legal reality hit me: minors can't own nonprofits, cannot manage businesses, and need a parent to sign onto everything they do. Although this posed a problem, I was determined to get through it. I started the organization anyways, moving to an informal club set up at the beginning. I worked with local high school students to compile a database of career-related opportunities. After a month of dedicated work, I was fortunate enough to learn about a fiscal-sponsorship company that worked with students. After a week of emails and interviews, I was in! With the new privilege of a nonprofit, my team and I worked even more eagerly towards providing the best for our fellow students. Our most recent event was a collaboration with four international nonprofits to host a youth dialogue about issues facing our generation. We interviewed four experts, and I was delighted to provide the audience with a lot of career and life experience. Our chief guest, Dr. Victor Gao (Deng Xiaoping's translator who has met 3 US presidents!), gave me some advice that I won't forget: "You want to make sure that the world you leave is better than the world today." This showed me the value of perseverance: something that I will use, not only to expand Compass4Careers, but for the rest of my life.