Last year, when I sat down to write this essay, I was trying to convince myself that the risks I had taken were worth it. I had left home, my country, chosen education, fought an entire society telling me not to dream too big, and stepped into a life that felt uncertain but necessary. Being a finalist gave me the reassurance I needed most—that I was on the right track. I was hopeful, also quietly terrified, and still imagining who I might become. I am sitting at the same table again now, typing on the same computer. This time, I’m not imagining the work. I stayed with it, and I will continue to do it. It feels the same, but quietly different. The pressure to get married hasn’t disappeared, and my academic choices are still questioned. Even my father’s sacrifices are not always understood—he sold land so I could stay in school in a conservative rural society where a girl’s education is often treated as secondary. Those doubts still exist, but they no longer hold me back. I continue my work even when those questions remain. Over the past year, what changed is that I am no longer questioning my belonging in science. This summer , I completed my first independent research project with my professor on something I am passionate about. I studied crayfish neurogenesis and how ammonia affects it. There were multiple failures, changed strategies, and tedious repetition. When the results did not work the way I wanted, I continued the project into the fall semester. I learned how to design my own adjustments, question my assumptions, and stay with the work even when progress was slow. I am now waiting to analyze my data and write a paper. This is just the beginning of my passion and career in neurogenic drug research. At the same time, I explored a part-time sustainability intern position my college offered to help ease my financial burden. It was refreshing to step out of the lab and learn something outside my field. A year ago, my energy went into defending my choices. Now, it goes into managing my time and showing up to the work I’ve chosen. This fall, I did my first solo performance with the Orchesis Dance Company. I also learned to play the piano, at least to some extent. The girl who was once scared of forests went biking and hiking multiple times. These experiences pushed me beyond fear and comfort in the same way my academic path has. There are many Maggies in STEM. Over the past years, I lived several of Maggie’s experiences—leaving home to pursue my passion, staying with work that does not promise immediate results, and continuing forward despite uncertainty. I am on my own path now, shaped by those same choices, and I hope to become someone young girls in STEM can look up to. That is how I honor Malgorzata’s life, alongside the many Maggies who continue her legacy.