Satisfied, I breathed in as I clutched onto the meek ten-dollar bill my mother gifted me for my 8th birthday. I stood, staring into the beauty supply store. A black girl's heaven in a shop, endless eons of products a girl could only dream of buying in a lifetime. But my eyes were fixed on one thing. Oil. I dashed to the oil section, eyes scanning to find my desired oil of choice. “This one,” I said to my mom, the words “Wild Hair Growth Oil” plastered on the bottle. That one trip marked the beginning of hundreds more, and with each one, my curiosity grew. From then on, every night I would steal my mom’s phone, learning every possible method to grow my hair. And all the while researching how to grow my hair, my hand would still subconsciously reach for the back of my head. Pulling and pulling. Trichotillomania: a constant, irresistible hair-pulling disorder, and a patch of its remnants sits on the back of my head. See, often people believe black hair is magic because of its properties; I say it's magic because it hides my secrets. Walking around every day, and no one ever suspects that my biggest secret lies right under my luscious mane of curls. Like Supergirl's glasses, my hair masks the broken bottom underneath. And just like Supergirl, I used my secret as motivation to work even harder in every aspect. In dance, I worked hard week after week, till 10 at night, to become a professional ballerina. In school, I created a club to promote school spirit, which is so lacking. All the while still pursuing my career-oriented dreams along the way. Even with all these accomplishments, my ongoing trips to the hair store kept prompting questions. “How long does it take for sebum to travel down the hair follicle?” “Does the speed change from hair type to hair type?” While TikTok was giving me every trick imaginable to grow out my “4C, high porosity, fine hair,” I realized there's more to discover. I wanted to know the science behind growing hair. I wanted answers. So I applied and was accepted into Prince George's Community College's rigorous dual enrollment program to study science with the goal of receiving an associate's degree. Yes, while studying science gave me answers, it also gave me a new perspective. My curiosity no longer leads to mastering the chemistry of cosmetics. No, my curiosity led me to accessibility. Rather than live my life by the blueprint: chemistry major to medical school to residency to dermatologist, I’ll strive to make the most of my experiences. And what sparked this desire wasn't the trips to the hair store, but rather a volunteer trip I took to Ecuador. Assisting both kids and adults at a summer disability camp. Never would I have imagined that my simple, silly dance moves could connect with these people more than a language ever could. Seeing my impact on people with only community service and a heart to serve, I imagined what more I could achieve if I used my brain. So when I become a dermatologist, I am going to be the one to find the answers for the ones left behind. And not just for the physically disabled but also for people of color, finding treatments catered to their specific features. So maybe in my career field, I may not work to solve accessibility issues solely for physical disabilities, but I know I will find solutions for dermatological issues that are under-researched in any aspect.