I'm a first-generation low income student who is Ecuadorian and Catholic. I have a strong love for sudoku and music, as I've been writing songs for my whole life and taught myself how to play guitar and piano. Being a non-binary person of color with a speech impediment, I often face skepticism and doubt from others before I even speak. These experiences are part of my journey navigating a world that isn’t built for me, where I have to assert myself to be taken seriously. I always think about how I'd want to trade places with Captain America for a day because I want to know what it feels like to be blindly and immediately respected. I already have enough people doubtful of my abilities each time I step into a room, announce my pronouns, and speak unclearly. I see the looks friends give one another, the faces they make as they try to hold back their laughter, and the infantilizing stares as if I have just stumbled into the room completely lost. After a few conversations, people start to become aware of my intelligence and maturity, and they backtrack their patronizing demeanors and intrusive prejudices. Still, I can’t help but wonder what if that respect was just given from the start? To be Captain America and have the trust of the entire nation in you would be amazing. Captain America immediately gains the respect and admiration of the entire room as soon as he steps inside, and that’s what solidifies him as a superhero. As much as I try to not let it affect me, it's not easy. I do strongly believe in myself and my skills, but sometimes, I wonder what it'd feel like to have others believe in me as well. Even still, like Captain America, I’ll keep proving every day that I’m just as capable, and I want to use that experience to help others who are underestimated or underserved. My love for chemistry began in high school when a teacher made learning enjoyable and hands-on. Initially, I thought my passion was just because of the teacher, but as I took more advanced dual-enrollment classes, the material became harder and my initial talent faded, yet I loved it even more. The challenging aspects captivated me, deeply exciting me to keep learning about the building blocks of life. The hands-on co-requisite lab strengthened my passion, especially in qualitative analysis. In this lab, solving the mystery of unknown compounds felt like applying logic and creativity to real-world problems, which I hope to translate into creating solutions for communities in need. A year later, during a 6-week STEM program at Carnegie Mellon, I worked on polymer research, including drug delivery. This experience, along with the personal loss of my brother, who died at four awaiting a heart transplant, fuels my desire to become a chemist. My dream is to develop safe, low-cost medicines to prevent other parents from witnessing their child's light leave their eyes so young. My educational goal is to combine chemistry and social equity to address sustainable healthcare accessibility and safety through cost optimization. Developing safer medicines by improving drug delivery systems reduces production costs, and using biodegradable materials decreases waste. As a result, medicines can be cheaper and more accessible to everyone, especially those in underserved communities who face barriers to healthcare. Navigating life with a disability has enhanced my empathy and determination, which I will apply in chemistry and community service. My goal is to ensure scientific innovation benefits everyone, promoting respect, opportunity, and access beyond those deemed capable.

For most of my life, I’ve struggled with my mental health. From a very young age, I knew something felt different in my mind. Anxiety built up more and more, eventually becoming overwhelming. I later recognized that what I was experiencing aligned with conditions like obsessive-compulsive disorder, generalized anxiety, and depression. These challenges did not exist alone though; they were worsened by an abusive home environment where seeking help was not an option. My parents refused to allow therapy, even when I needed it most. Living in that environment made my mental health struggles feel unbeatable. At one point, the pressure became unbearable, and I attempted suicide. Thankfully, I survived. Being here today means I can tell the story of how I kept going, and how I am still moving forward every day. I want to be clear about something I learned through these experiences: OCD is not a death sentence. Depression is not a death sentence. Generalized anxiety is not a death sentence. But when these challenges exist alongside instability and a lack of support, they can feel impossible to escape. Because professional help was not available, I had to learn how to cope on my own. I developed small strategies to survive day by day. Sometimes it was counting my fingers, or taking slow, deliberate breaths to ground myself. Other times, it was distraction, just binge watching hundreds of episodes from my favorite comfort show. It helped me endure when I felt like I had no other options. But the war wasn’t over. Two years ago, I witnessed my brother overdose. Watching someone I love so deeply come so close to losing their life was indescribably terrifying. The following year, I overdosed myself. Those experiences forced me to confront how fragile life can be and how desperately I needed real support and healing. When I entered college, things began to change. For the first time, I was in an environment where I could seek help safely. I found support in Dr. Maria Thompson, the first person who made me believe I didn’t need to feel this horrible everyday. I found support in the holy orange bottles filled with medications that made me feel like I could survive this, becoming the new thing I worship. I found support in the friends I made who taught me love didn’t need to be abusive to be real. College gave me something I had never experienced before: healing. That does not mean the struggle is over. Every day is hard. However, the difference now is that I no longer face these challenges alone. I have learned healthier coping mechanisms, I have access to medical care, and a growing support system that includes my beautifully kind partner, my caring friends, and most importantly, my brother, who has always been my best friend and twin flame. These experiences have shaped the way I view my future and my education. I want to build a life defined not by survival, but by purpose. My goal is to pursue a career in chemistry, a field that allows me to explore solutions that improve people’s lives. My sophomore year chemistry teacher was amazing as he made learning enjoyable and easy. Initially, I thought my true love for chemistry was solely because of the teacher and circumstances of the class. However, as I took more advanced dual-enrollment chemistry classes, the material became harder and my initial talent faded, but I loved it even more. The challenging aspects captivated me, deeply exciting me to keep learning about the building blocks of life. A year later, during a 6-week STEM program at Carnegie Mellon, I worked on polymer research, including drug delivery. This experience, along with the personal loss of my brother, who died at four awaiting a heart transplant, fuels my desire to become a chemist. My love for chemistry and its practical applications drives me to pursue this path with dedication and purpose. My dream is to develop safe, low-cost medicines to prevent other parents from witnessing their child's light leave their eyes so young. My specific educational goal is to combine chemistry and social equity to address sustainable healthcare accessibility and safety through cost optimization. Developing safer medicines by improving drug delivery systems would reduce production costs, as using biodegradable materials can decrease waste. As a result, these medicines can be cheaper and more accessible to everyone, regardless of their economic class. By advancing equitable healthcare through chemistry, I hope to honor my brother’s memory and ensure that science serves as a tool for compassion and change. By combining my lived experiences with my educational goals, I hope to create a life that is both personally fulfilling and socially meaningful.

I'm a first-generation low income student who is Ecuadorian and Catholic. I have a strong love for sudoku and music, as I've been writing songs for my whole life and taught myself how to play guitar and piano. Being a non-binary person of color with a speech impediment, I often face skepticism and doubt from others before I even speak. These experiences are part of my journey navigating a world that isn’t built for me, where I have to assert myself to be taken seriously. I always think about how I'd want to trade places with Captain America for a day because I want to know what it feels like to be blindly and immediately respected. I already have enough people doubtful of my abilities each time I step into a room, announce my pronouns, and speak unclearly. I see the looks friends give one another, the faces they make as they try to hold back their laughter, and the infantilizing stares as if I have just stumbled into the room completely lost. After a few conversations, people start to become aware of my intelligence and maturity, and they backtrack their patronizing demeanors and intrusive prejudices. Still, I can’t help but wonder what if that respect was just given from the start? To be Captain America and have the trust of the entire nation in you would be amazing. Captain America immediately gains the respect and admiration of the entire room as soon as he steps inside, and that’s what solidifies him as a superhero. As much as I try to not let it affect me, it's not easy. I do strongly believe in myself and my skills, but sometimes, I wonder what it'd feel like to have others believe in me as well. Even still, like Captain America, I’ll keep proving every day that I’m just as capable, and I want to use that experience to help others who are underestimated or underserved. My love for chemistry began in high school when a teacher made learning enjoyable and hands-on. Initially, I thought my passion was just because of the teacher, but as I took more advanced dual-enrollment classes, the material became harder and my initial talent faded, yet I loved it even more. The challenging aspects captivated me, deeply exciting me to keep learning about the building blocks of life. The hands-on co-requisite lab strengthened my passion, especially in qualitative analysis. In this lab, solving the mystery of unknown compounds felt like applying logic and creativity to real-world problems, which I hope to translate into creating solutions for communities in need. A year later, during a 6-week STEM program at Carnegie Mellon, I worked on polymer research, including drug delivery. This experience, along with the personal loss of my brother, who died at four awaiting a heart transplant, fuels my desire to become a chemist. My dream is to develop safe, low-cost medicines to prevent other parents from witnessing their child's light leave their eyes so young. My educational goal is to combine chemistry and social equity to address sustainable healthcare accessibility and safety through cost optimization. Developing safer medicines by improving drug delivery systems reduces production costs, and using biodegradable materials decreases waste. As a result, medicines can be cheaper and more accessible to everyone, especially those in underserved communities who face barriers to healthcare. Navigating life with a disability has enhanced my empathy and determination, which I will apply in chemistry and community service. My goal is to ensure scientific innovation benefits everyone, promoting respect, opportunity, and access beyond those deemed capable.

At the age of four, my beautifully kind brother died while waiting for a heart transplant. My brother was the kind of light that could brighten anyone's day. His smile was like a sparkle that never dimmed even throughout the dozens of surgeries he had to undergo, even with how often my mom cried, staring at his tiny frail body getting weaker and weaker, and even in his last moments on Earth, he was smiling. Kevinn dying killed all of our souls. Our family broke and was never the same. For months, my mom clung onto his favorite spiderman plushie and his blanket as if they were his body. While my mom fell into a hole of melancholy and depression, my dad fell into the only coping way he was taught from his own parents: anger and abuse. My oldest brother turned to alcohol and drugs as he was in college. My other brother pushed all his feelings down and became rebellious. And me? I was so young I couldn’t believe it. How does someone just die? How does a body full of life and love and joy turn pale and cold within moments? It felt as if evil was spreading like a fever that couldn’t be healed. Why would God take away an incredible innocent boy? I pondered these questions for years. As life went on, my grief remained constant. One day, I attempted suicide. I hoped to see my brother once more, but all I felt during those moments was darkness and emptiness. Living through that taught me so much about life and my future specifically; it taught me suicide is never the answer, and that my brother would want me to fight and find joy even when there is no joy. For the first time, I stopped asking why he was gone and I was still here, and instead, what I’d do with that fact. When I entered college, things began to change. I found help: support in Dr. Maria Thompson, the first person who made me believe I didn’t need to feel this horrible everyday. I found support in the holy orange bottles filled with medications that made me feel like I could survive this, becoming the new thing I worship. I found support in the friends I made who taught me love didn’t need to be abusive to be real. Losing my brother fuels my desire to become a chemist. My love for chemistry and its practical applications drives me to pursue this path with dedication and purpose. Because I know what it means to lose someone to a failing heart, my dream is to develop safe, low-cost cardiovascular medicines to prevent other parents from witnessing their child's light leave their eyes so young. My specific educational goal is to combine chemistry and social equity to address sustainable healthcare accessibility and safety through cost optimization. As a result, these medicines can be cheaper and more accessible to everyone, regardless of their economic class. By advancing equitable healthcare through chemistry, I hope to honor my brother’s memory and ensure that science serves as a tool for compassion and change. If I could give advice to someone facing this kind of loss, I wouldn’t ever promise it gets easy quickly. Some days feel like hell and you’ll feel like giving up. Don’t. Choosing to stay is the strongest thing you can possibly do. Showing up is all you have to do and it’s more than enough. Just hold on long enough to find your purpose. Not everything has to be figured out and that’s okay.

At the age of four, my beautifully kind brother died while waiting for a heart transplant. My brother was the kind of light that could brighten anyone's day. His smile was like a sparkle that never dimmed even throughout the dozens of surgeries he had to undergo, even with how often my mom cried, staring at his tiny frail body getting weaker and weaker, and even in his last moments on Earth, he was smiling. Kevinn dying killed all of our souls. Our family broke and was never the same. For months, my mom clung onto his favorite spiderman plushie and his blanket as if they were his body. While my mom fell into a hole of melancholy and depression, my dad fell into the only coping way he was taught from his own parents: anger and abuse. My oldest brother turned to alcohol and drugs as he was in college. My other brother pushed all his feelings down and became rebellious. And me? I was so young I couldn’t believe it. How does someone just die? How does a body full of life and love and joy turn pale and cold within moments? How is life supposed to go on? It felt as if evil was spreading like a fever that couldn’t be healed. Why would God take away an incredible innocent boy? I pondered these questions for years. As my grief stayed constant, life went on. My mom stayed sad, my dad stayed terribly mad, my brothers stayed troubled, and I stayed confused. Living in that abusive environment made my additional mental health struggles feel unbeatable. At one point, the pressure became unbearable, and I attempted suicide. I hoped to see my brother once more, but all I felt during those moments was darkness and emptiness. Living through that taught me so much about life and my future specifically; it taught me suicide is never the answer, and that my brother would want me to fight and find joy even when there is no joy. For the first time, I stopped asking why he was gone and I was still here, and instead, what I’d do with that fact. When I entered college, things began to change. For the first time, I was in an environment where I could seek help safely. I found support in Dr. Maria Thompson, the first person who made me believe I didn’t need to feel this horrible everyday. I found support in the holy orange bottles filled with medications that made me feel like I could survive this, becoming the new thing I worship. I found support in the friends I made who taught me love didn’t need to be abusive to be real. Losing my brother fuels my desire to become a chemist. My love for chemistry and its practical applications drives me to pursue this path with dedication and purpose. Because I know what it means to lose someone to a failing heart, my dream is to develop safe, low-cost cardiovascular medicines to prevent other parents from witnessing their child's light leave their eyes so young. My specific educational goal is to combine chemistry and social equity to address sustainable healthcare accessibility and safety through cost optimization. Developing safer medicines by improving drug delivery systems would reduce production costs, as using biodegradable materials can decrease waste. As a result, these medicines can be cheaper and more accessible to everyone, regardless of their economic class. By advancing equitable healthcare through chemistry, I hope to honor my brother’s memory and ensure that science serves as a tool for compassion and change.

As a non-binary person, I know the fear of speaking out. In 10th grade, my English teacher supported Florida’s ‘Don’t Say Gay’ bill, a law banning LGBTQ+ talk in schools, and turned all topics somehow homophobic. His offensive behavior encouraged my classmates to express their own prejudices freely and when I tried to speak up, I was shut down and laughed at. Since coming out, I’ve had many experiences similar to the one in that class. Living in Florida, I especially understand what it's like to be surrounded by conservative views and ignored when challenging them. Governor Ron DeSantis often censors modern beliefs with acts like the “Florida House Bill 1069” that prohibits the use of preferred pronouns in school. The large number of strongly resolved supporters show how many Floridians think likewise. As a result, I've had many people call my identity fake and have had countless arguments with obstinate individuals. Conversely, at a summer program at Carnegie Mellon, I met people from all over the US who never shut me down. I got to have amazingly open and productive conversations with countless people, even when we had differing views. It was incredible. While I've often been ignored when challenging beliefs in Florida, I found open minds do exist elsewhere. Some people get uncomfortable probing at the discoveries of well-respected scientists for fear of disrespect. I think the complete opposite should happen. Science is meant to be questioned and no progress will be achieved until that's accepted. Despite how difficult these experiences were though, they’ve shaped me into an open-minded person who thinks outside the box, meaning I approach problems unconventionally. I incorporate my progressive and unconventional perspectives in daily conversations as well. My love for politics and social awareness drives me to have meaningful discussions with my peers, informing them of current events and clarifying any misconceptions of ideologies or policies. Listening to different viewpoints, even when they challenge my own, educates me too and helps me become a stronger advocate. This perspective carried over to my leadership roles as well. As president of Mu Alpha Theta, I observed many women and non-binary people hesitated to answer questions or participate actively. To verify, I asked some privately after meetings and learned many of them didn’t feel as confident as men who would simply shout out potentially wrong answers. Being non-binary, I had to address this. As a result, I created mentorship programs where officers helped guide members in a supportive one-on-one space. I coordinated officer schedules with mentees to allow them to gain confidence. Although it was difficult matching people together, once many of these members got specialized help, I returned everyone to full meetings and saw the success of my efforts through almost everyone’s raised hands when I asked the first question. Many women and non-binary people in our club qualified for the AMC national competition. These experiences have shaped not only the way that I interact with people, but also the way I approach my educational and career goals. I have become open-minded and very radical through these experiences and I hope to bring my perspective and resilience into my future career, focusing on ensuring that marginalized voices are heard and considered in every space I enter. I want to build environments where everyone feels safe and empowered to contribute, regardless of identity, and to continue my advocacy for inclusivity in education.

For most of my life, I’ve struggled with my mental health. From a very young age, I knew something felt different in my mind. Anxiety built up more and more, eventually becoming overwhelming. I later recognized that what I was experiencing aligned with conditions like obsessive-compulsive disorder, generalized anxiety, and depression. These challenges did not exist alone though; they were worsened by an abusive home environment where seeking help was not an option. My parents refused to allow therapy, even when I needed it most. Living in that environment made my mental health struggles feel unbeatable. At one point, the pressure became unbearable, and I attempted suicide. Thankfully, I survived. Being here today means I can tell the story of how I kept going, and how I am still moving forward every day. I want to be clear about something I learned through these experiences: OCD is not a death sentence. Depression is not a death sentence. Generalized anxiety is not a death sentence. But when these challenges exist alongside instability and a lack of support, they can feel impossible to escape. Because professional help was not available, I had to learn how to cope on my own. I developed small strategies to survive day by day. Sometimes it was counting my fingers, or taking slow, deliberate breaths to ground myself. Other times, it was distraction, just binge watching hundreds of episodes from my favorite comfort show. It helped me endure when I felt like I had no other options. But the war wasn’t over. Two years ago, I witnessed my brother overdose. Watching someone I love so deeply come so close to losing their life was indescribably terrifying. The following year, I overdosed myself. Those experiences forced me to confront how fragile life can be and how desperately I needed real support and healing. When I entered college, things began to change. For the first time, I was in an environment where I could seek help safely. I found support in Dr. Maria Thompson, the first person who made me believe I didn’t need to feel this horrible everyday. I found support in the holy orange bottles filled with medications that made me feel like I could survive this, becoming the new thing I worship. I found support in the friends I made who taught me love didn’t need to be abusive to be real. College gave me something I had never experienced before: healing. That does not mean the struggle is over. Every day is hard. However, the difference now is that I no longer face these challenges alone. I have learned healthier coping mechanisms, I have access to medical care, and a growing support system that includes my beautifully kind partner, my caring friends, and most importantly, my brother, who has always been my best friend and twin flame. These experiences have shaped the way I view my future and my education. I want to build a life defined not by survival, but by purpose. My goal is to pursue a career in chemistry, a field that allows me to explore solutions that improve people’s lives. My sophomore year chemistry teacher was amazing as he made learning enjoyable and easy. Initially, I thought my true love for chemistry was solely because of the teacher and circumstances of the class. However, as I took more advanced dual-enrollment chemistry classes, the material became harder and my initial talent faded, but I loved it even more. The challenging aspects captivated me, deeply exciting me to keep learning about the building blocks of life. A year later, during a 6-week STEM program at Carnegie Mellon, I worked on polymer research, including drug delivery. This experience, along with the personal loss of my brother, who died at four awaiting a heart transplant, fuels my desire to become a chemist. My love for chemistry and its practical applications drives me to pursue this path with dedication and purpose. My dream is to develop safe, low-cost medicines to prevent other parents from witnessing their child's light leave their eyes so young. My specific educational goal is to combine chemistry and social equity to address sustainable healthcare accessibility and safety through cost optimization. Developing safer medicines by improving drug delivery systems would reduce production costs, as using biodegradable materials can decrease waste. As a result, these medicines can be cheaper and more accessible to everyone, regardless of their economic class. By advancing equitable healthcare through chemistry, I hope to honor my brother’s memory and ensure that science serves as a tool for compassion and change. By combining my lived experiences with my educational goals, I hope to create a life that is both personally fulfilling and socially meaningful.

As a first-generation college student from an immigrant family, pursuing higher education was a challenge I was forced to undergo alone. As deeply as my parents wanted me to dive into higher education and higher degrees, they didn't know how to get me there. They tried their hardest with getting me into this country, but the rest I had to figure out alone. Navigating these obstacles alone but with the love from my parents taught both resilience, independence, and gratitude, which are all important factors into how I approach my education and goals in chemistry. My sophomore year chemistry teacher was amazing as he made learning enjoyable and easy. Initially, I thought my true love for chemistry was solely because of the teacher and circumstances of the class. However, as I took more advanced dual-enrollment chemistry classes, the material became harder and my initial talent faded, but I loved it even more. The challenging aspects captivated me, deeply exciting me to keep learning about the building blocks of life. The hands-on co-requisite lab strengthened my passion, especially in qualitative analysis. This lab was where we solved the mystery of unknown compounds through chemical reactions. It was incredible, to say the least. I felt like a detective with a board and a bunch of red string, trying to find out exactly "who" or what was involved in this "crime." A year later, during a 6-week STEM program at Carnegie Mellon, I worked on polymer research, including drug delivery. This experience, along with the personal loss of my brother, who died at four awaiting a heart transplant, fuels my desire to become a chemist. My love for chemistry and its practical applications drives me to pursue this path with dedication and purpose. My dream is to develop safe, low-cost medicines to prevent other parents from witnessing their child's light leave their eyes so young. My specific educational goal is to combine chemistry and social equity to address sustainable healthcare accessibility and safety through cost optimization. Developing safer medicines by improving drug delivery systems would reduce production costs, as using biodegradable materials can decrease waste. As a result, these medicines can be cheaper and more accessible to everyone, regardless of their economic class. By advancing equitable healthcare through chemistry, I hope to honor my brother’s memory and ensure that science serves as a tool for compassion and change.

Being a non-binary person of color with a speech impediment, I often face skepticism and doubt from others before I even speak. These experiences are part of my neurodiverse journey navigating a world that isn’t built for me, where I have to assert myself constantly to be taken seriously. I'd want to trade places with Captain America for a day because I want to know what it feels like to be blindly and immediately respected. I already have enough people doubtful of my abilities each time I step into a room, announce my pronouns, and speak unclearly. I see the looks friends give one another, the faces they make as they try to hold back their laughter, and the infantilizing stares as if I have just stumbled into the room completely lost. After a few conversations, people start to become aware of my intelligence and maturity, and they backtrack their patronizing demeanors and intrusive prejudices. Still, I can’t help but wonder what if that respect was just given from the start? To be Captain America and have the trust of the entire nation in you would be amazing. Captain America immediately gains the respect and admiration of the entire room as soon as he steps inside, and that’s what solidifies him as a superhero. These experiences of being underestimated and doubted are my part of my neurodiverse experience navigating life with a disability. Without a vibranium shield, I've had to learn resilience and persistence everyday. Facing microaggressions taught me to assert my voice and stand up for others. As much as I try to not let it affect me, it's not easy. I do strongly believe in myself and my skills, but sometimes, I wonder what it would feel like to have others believe in me as well. Even still, like Captain America, I’ll keep proving every day that I’m just as capable, and I want to use that experience to help others who are underestimated or underserved. My love for chemistry began in high school when a teacher made learning enjoyable and hands-on. Initially, I thought my passion was just because of the teacher, but as I took more advanced dual-enrollment classes, the material became harder and my initial talent faded, yet I loved it even more. The challenging aspects captivated me, deeply exciting me to keep learning about the building blocks of life. The hands-on co-requisite lab strengthened my passion, especially in qualitative analysis. In this lab, solving the mystery of unknown compounds felt like applying logic and creativity to real-world problems, which I hope to translate into creating solutions for communities in need. A year later, during a 6-week STEM program at Carnegie Mellon, I worked on polymer research, including drug delivery. This experience, along with the personal loss of my brother, who died at four awaiting a heart transplant, fuels my desire to become a chemist. My dream is to develop safe, low-cost medicines to prevent other parents from witnessing their child's light leave their eyes so young. My educational goal is to combine chemistry and social equity to address sustainable healthcare accessibility and safety through cost optimization. Developing safer medicines by improving drug delivery systems reduces production costs, and using biodegradable materials decreases waste. As a result, medicines can be cheaper and more accessible to everyone, especially those in underserved communities who face barriers to healthcare. Navigating life with a disability has enhanced my empathy and determination, which I will apply in chemistry and community service. My goal is to ensure scientific innovation benefits everyone, promoting respect, opportunity, and access beyond those deemed capable.

As a first-generation college student from an immigrant family, pursuing higher education was a challenge I was forced to undergo alone. As deeply as my parents wanted me to dive into higher education and higher degrees, they didn't know how to get me there. They tried their hardest with getting me into this country, but the rest I had to figure out alone. Navigating these obstacles alone but with the love from my parents taught both resilience, independence, and gratitude, which are all important factors into how I approach my education and goals in chemistry. My sophomore year chemistry teacher was amazing as he made learning enjoyable and easy. Initially, I thought my true love for chemistry was solely because of the teacher and circumstances of the class. However, as I took more advanced dual-enrollment chemistry classes, the material became harder and my initial talent faded, but I loved it even more. The challenging aspects captivated me, deeply exciting me to keep learning about the building blocks of life. The hands-on co-requisite lab strengthened my passion, especially in qualitative analysis. This lab was where we solved the mystery of unknown compounds through chemical reactions. It was incredible, to say the least. I felt like a detective with a board and a bunch of red string, trying to find out exactly "who" or what was involved in this "crime." A year later, during a 6-week STEM program at Carnegie Mellon, I worked on polymer research, including drug delivery. This experience, along with the personal loss of my brother, who died at four awaiting a heart transplant, fuels my desire to become a chemist. My love for chemistry and its practical applications drives me to pursue this path with dedication and purpose. My dream is to develop safe, low-cost medicines to prevent other parents from witnessing their child's light leave their eyes so young. My specific educational goal is to combine chemistry and social equity to address sustainable healthcare accessibility and safety through cost optimization. Developing safer medicines by improving drug delivery systems would reduce production costs, as using biodegradable materials can decrease waste. As a result, these medicines can be cheaper and more accessible to everyone, regardless of their economic class. I am a determined individual who sees what I want and goes for it. Despite its prestige, I apply. Even when I doubt myself, I go for it. When I have a goal like I currently do with sustainable healthcare accessibility, I will not stop until I achieve it. Growing up from a low-income immigrant parent family, I need the money as chemistry is a very expensive major. When I participated in that summer program, I spoke with a lot of chemists and the one thing they told me that they all had in common: you need a PhD. Nowadays, sadly, a master’s degree is turning into what a bachelor’s was meant for and is too common. I am resolute on accomplishing my goals and I don’t want any economic shortcomings deterring me from achieving them. This scholarship would help me immensely and if I get it, I know I will not take it for granted. This scholarship would ease my financial burdens and allow me to create impactful solutions with complete focus. With that support, I will continue working toward my goal of developing safer, more affordable medicines so that scientific innovation can truly serve everyone. By advancing equitable healthcare through chemistry, I hope to honor my brother’s memory and ensure that science serves as a tool for compassion and change.

One afternoon during Carnegie Mellon’s STEM summer program about reflection, sleepiness hit me while studying and I wanted salt and vinegar chips. Very random, but it’s my favorite snack and I suddenly needed it to recharge. My journey was marked by missed buses, disappointment, a mile-long walk, and eventually, success as I reached the city and completed my mission. My trek back, however, was a nightmare. I struggle with anxiety disorders, and while asking for help may seem simple, I would rather get lost for hours than ask. I would rather walk through the desert for eternity than ask. I would rather– okay, you get the point. But for some reason, I stopped overthinking and asked. I chose to trust her when she said the bus stop had been moved, and she guided me correctly. Stepping inside, I noticed a group of boys sizing up these girls who were a few years younger than me, their eyes conveying how hungry they were for validation that they were “real” men. As the boys saw me, I immediately heard cackling. What now? Was it my skirt being too short? Maybe it was my makeup being too cakey for them. Being so used to it, I sighed and went to sit. However, seeing the uncomfortable faces of the girls reminded me of my own timid self when catcalling first began as I turned 14. When they started whispering and laughing while looking at me, I realized that if I didn’t stand up to these boys, who would? Right then, I felt such anger and frustration like never before. I walked up to the guys, yelling “Can I help you?!” as loud as my lungs allowed me. Despite standing up for people before, I never understood the importance of it until that bus ride. Those boys looked away and didn’t dare look at me or the girls again. The smiles from the girls made the screaming and frustration worthwhile. I understood I was making people feel safer. Being female-presenting has its overlooked difficulties. It’s not easy to tell someone off and challenge the norm of just ignoring the looks. Sure, I’m used to it, but just because something is considered normal, does not mean it’s okay. If I didn’t tell those boys off, those girls would’ve seen a real example of people ignoring normalized sexual harassment. The long trend of female-presenting people having to accept this conduct would’ve continued for them. The boys looking away taught me another lesson: speaking out might not immediately change someone’s mind, but it can open the door for their perspective to shift over time. I have been socially aware for a while, but the reaction afterwards made me realize how all the past harassment I have experienced only has made me more fearless. Once I recognized how loud my voice has always been and its value in speaking out, I wanted to continue to use my voice more purposefully to advocate for others. In that moment, I realized true awareness needs action. One single bus experience changed my perspective on what it meant to honestly be socially conscious. It’s one thing to be someone who is educated. It’s another to be someone who speaks out about that education. Fathoming how I was someone who made people feel secure was truly incredible. And so, while the boys had to ride the bus all uncomfortable with the rest of the bus judging them, I got to lay back in bed, and open up the most perfect bag of salt and vinegar chips.

My sophomore year chemistry teacher was amazing as he made learning enjoyable and easy. Initially, I thought my true love for chemistry was solely because of the teacher and circumstances of the class. However, as I took more advanced dual-enrollment chemistry classes, the material became harder and my initial talent faded, but I loved it even more. The challenging aspects captivated me, deeply exciting me to keep learning about the building blocks of life. The hands-on co-requisite lab strengthened my passion, especially in qualitative analysis. This lab was where we solved the mystery of unknown compounds through chemical reactions. It was incredible, to say the least. I felt like a detective with a board and a bunch of red string, trying to find out exactly "who" or what was involved in this "crime." A year later, during a 6-week STEM program at Carnegie Mellon, I worked on polymer research, including drug delivery. This experience, along with the personal loss of my brother, who died at four awaiting a heart transplant, fuels my desire to become a chemist. My love for chemistry and its practical applications drives me to pursue this path with dedication and purpose. My dream is to develop safe, low-cost medicines to prevent other parents from witnessing their child's light leave their eyes so young. My specific educational goal is to combine chemistry and social equity to address sustainable healthcare accessibility and safety through cost optimization. Developing safer medicines by improving drug delivery systems would reduce production costs, as using biodegradable materials can decrease waste. As a result, these medicines can be cheaper and more accessible to everyone, regardless of their economic class. By advancing equitable healthcare through chemistry, I hope to honor my brother’s memory and ensure that science serves as a tool for compassion and change. I am a determined individual who sees what I want and goes for it. Despite its prestige, I apply. Even when I doubt myself, I go for it. When I have a goal like I currently do with sustainable healthcare accessibility, I will not stop until I achieve it. Growing up from a low-income immigrant parent family, I need the money as chemistry is a very expensive major. When I participated in that summer program, I spoke with a lot of chemists and the one thing they told me that they all had in common: you need a PhD. Nowadays, sadly, a master’s degree is turning into what a bachelor’s was meant for and is too common. I am resolute on accomplishing my goals and I don’t want any economic shortcomings deterring me from achieving them. This scholarship would help me immensely and if I get it, I know I will not take it for granted. This scholarship would ease my financial burdens and allow me to create impactful solutions with complete focus.