My mother is everything. She is a nurse, a therapist, a chef, a nutritionist, and a hairstylist. She is the judge and the jury, as well as the lawyer. She acts as the bailiff, the bank, and the financier, although she paints her way through life as an artist. And on some days, she’s even a meteorologist. People do not take it easy on single mothers who are in a systematically vulnerable position. The lack of community and stability within the workplace, society, from family, and friends enslaves single mothers within the system of capitalism which feeds off of their blood, sweat, and tears. Single mothers are the backbone of the planet we call Mother Earth, forced to abide by the power of the patriarchy that labels single mothers, the ones who stayed, as “prey”. Recently, I commemorated the sixth-year anniversary of my late father who struggled with depression. After he left, my mother’s world grew dim, and days turned dark and quiet. The struggle amplified as she had to map out how she would afford the funeral, the rent, the utilities, the food, the wants and needs and pleas of her daughter. How would she carry the pressures of society's expectations and grievances with her while also chasing her goals, success, and money to not only provide for her daughter but to experience life? Today, my eyes are open to the depths of the patriarchy who look down upon single mothers who need support and love. My mother used her resilience to patch up a broken home. She showed her support and nurture while disconnecting from herself due to the overwhelming depression and anxiety of her everlasting situation. Growing up, I had to be my mother’s support system, so I became hyper vigilant of her emotions. Picking up on her energy, tone, body language, and mood resulting in a constant self-reflection on my part to stand up as an independent daughter in order to support my mother. Juggling two jobs and a child afforded my mother no space, time, nor breaks. She worked to provide, protect, and guide, leaving her unable to nurse, nurture, nor affirm. “It takes a village to raise a child”, therefore the lack of a support system forced my mother to become the entire village. Through the pain and hardship, my mother tells me the stories of her journey through a cruel sea that continuously sought to drown her. A mother who dreamt of freedom from her cocoon. For too long, I have also felt trapped within my cocoon with the inability to grow wings and find my liberation, though, through her lessons of resilience and open transparency I follow her footsteps to become a registered nurse. Today, I walk through this world with the knowledge that I was not dealt the short end of the stick because I have been allowed to grow and spread my wings under a woman who sacrificed every aspect of her being in order for me to experience the beauty of the world. Beauty a young mother missed out on: love, heartbreak, traveling, exploring career paths, and accomplishing personal goals. I continue to write essays for scholarships to not only represent me, but also my mother who only ever had five dollars in her pocket yet gave her daughter twenty. Like my mother, I juggled college classes within high school, and at my nearest community college. Joining sports, drama, and volunteering at nearby food banks to fuel my passion within the medical field where I will earn my degree within Nursing in Science to become everything, like her.

Within the United States, Black women are three to four times more likely to die within childbirth compared to any other demographic group, perpetuating institutional racism within the medical system. To stir a change among my fellow Black women I plan to explore the necessity of increased representation, activism, and equity within the healthcare profession. At the age of nine years old, I remember my uncles carrying my mother to her bed, writhing in pain. I could not fathom the agony my mother was going through, her own body fighting against her as she suffered from uterine fibroids which had grown and developed into two golf ball-sized tumors, leiomyosarcoma (1 in 1,000 chance). With her permission, I tell my knowledge of her experience. Watching her day-to-day life as she struggled to perform mundane and simple tasks became extremely difficult to observe as a young girl. Not only was she suffering the physical pain of her natural cycle but carrying the weight that she may never have another child after me. From doctor to doctor, my mother realized that as a Black woman she would never receive the proper care necessary to help her in her situation. Furthermore, my mother was not the first Black woman to be mistreated in healthcare facilities. Women like Henrietta Lacks, exploited and erased of her contributions to medical breakthroughs like the polio vaccine and enslaved women like Anarcha, Lucy, and Betsey who underwent surgical operations by Dr. J. Marion Sims, without anesthesia due to the idea that Black women were genetically different, influencing the treatment of Black women today. Therefore, fueling my interest within the diagnostic medical sonography field to identify and assist in diagnosing Black women who may have conditions like cancer, cardiovascular disease, or pregnancy related complications. Based on data from the National Cancer Institute, death rates have increased due to uterine cancers among women, particularly Black women. These statistics are not coincidences or accidents, but rather proof of the dehumanization, ignorance, and dismissal of human rights. Through various research papers regarding Black women's rights to healthcare, as a young Black woman, I find that the lack of diversity in sonography results in patients being put at risk, increasing their chances of worsened health issues and death. A cultural understanding between my future patients and me, as a medical professional, is vital, as it is shown that marginalized groups feel more understood when given care by healthcare providers who share their same cultural identity. Moreover, patients have more trust within healthcare providers leading to better accuracy of diagnoses and effective treatments that implement consent, trust, and morality. As a medical diagnostic sonographer, my duty is to become my patient’s advocate when reporting pain and symptoms to physicians to give visibility to my patient’s concerns. By utilizing the safety of non-invasive monitors that offer measurable and visual data for fetal development, tumors, blood flow, etc., misdiagnosis or delays within my patient’s care minimizes the risks of overlooked problems, or unnecessary interventions to women who strongly impact and stabilize the functionality of my closeknit community. Mothers, daughters, aunts, sisters, nieces, cousins, and spouses are subject to live in a world which takes away bodily autonomy and promotes neglectful, implicit bias towards patients. Today, I volunteer at food banks and help my school with charitable events, though tomorrow I will be assisting with the progression of women, girls, and those in need who may or may not look like me. I dream of creating a difference in the medical field, so women like my mother can feel properly represented and cared for.