Seven-year-olds aren't supposed to know what an endoscope is, or wonder why an entire hospital doesn’t have one. But when you're scared and waiting, you notice everything... I was 6 years old when we found out my grandmother had Helicobacter pylori, 7 when she was diagnosed with stomach cancer, and 8 when she passed on. Years later, at 16, I too was diagnosed with Helicobacter pylori. My mom held my hand in the same way I'd held my grandmother's in that hospital waiting room a decade before. But this time, the story went differently. A simple breath test, fifteen minutes, and we had answers. Treatment started the next week. It would all be fine. But the truth is, not everyone gets their fifteen minutes. Not everyone gets to be fine. The gap between what's medically possible and what's actually accessible is why I chose to pursue a career in Biotechnology and a degree in Bioinformatics. Bioinformatics may not be the first major that comes to mind when thinking about healthcare, no stethoscopes, no patient rounds, no white coat. But it is at the intersection of biology, technology, and data analysis, and that intersection is where the future of medicine and health equity is being written. As the healthcare landscape is being reshaped by artificial intelligence, genomics, and digital diagnostics, bioinformatics, to me, is the most direct path toward transforming medicine. I've seen what the gap in healthcare looks like up close. I have watched neighbors drive forty-five minutes to the nearest clinic for tests that should have taken fifteen minutes and cost next to nothing. With the knowledge I gain in bioinformatics, I want to change the healthcare landscape by building point-of-care devices that deliver results in minutes, diagnostic and monitoring tools that catch diseases at their earliest, most treatable stages, and wearable biosensors that monitor patients without requiring them to travel, all with affordability and accessibility at their core, thereby promoting health equity. I know that innovation means nothing if it’s not at the fingertips of the people who need it most, and I’ve started building toward that goal. Throughout my freshman year, I was a research assistant at a cardiovascular research lab at Meharry Medical School. Then, I spent the summer as a research intern at Yale University, spotting early disease building tools that spot disease patterns human eyes might miss. Later that same summer, I interned at the University of Illinois Chicago, researching and testing prototypes in real clinical conditions. These experiences led me to begin developing medical software that uses circadian rhythm data to optimize sleep and wake times, reducing fatigue in college students. This has pushed me to expand my horizons. I know I will succeed because my drive is a product of real struggle. I've seen what happens when someone doesn't get access to the right care at the right time, and I've spent the last few years proving I can do something about it. I refuse to accept it as the norm. This scholarship will help me achieve my goals by funding the years of work ahead that would mean someone else doesn't have to sit in a waiting room wondering if they'll get their chance to be fine, their own 15 minutes. I'm working so that every person gets a different ending than my grandmother did, so that the technology exists before the diagnosis comes. With the James N Iademarco Biotech Scholarship's support, I will make sure that fifteen minutes is all it takes, every single time, for every single person.

Seven-year-olds aren't supposed to know what an endoscope is, or wonder why an entire hospital doesn’t have one. But when you're scared and waiting, you notice everything. I was 6 years old when we found out my grandmother had Helicobacter pylori, 7 when she was diagnosed with stomach cancer, and 8 when she passed on. Years later, at 16, I too was diagnosed with Helicobacter pylori. My mom held my hand in the same way I'd held my grandmother's in that hospital waiting room a decade before. But this time, the story went differently. A simple breath test, fifteen minutes, and we had answers. Treatment started the next week. It would all be fine. But the truth is, not everyone gets their fifteen minutes. Not everyone gets to be fine. The gap between what's medically possible and what's actually accessible is why I chose to pursue a degree in Bioinformatics. Bioinformatics may not be the first major that comes to mind when thinking about healthcare, no stethoscopes, no patient rounds, no white coat. But it is at the intersection of biology, technology, and data analysis, and that intersection is where the future of medicine and health equity is being written. As the healthcare landscape is being reshaped by artificial intelligence, genomics, and digital diagnostics, bioinformatics, to me, is the most direct path toward transforming medicine. I've seen what the gap in healthcare in Tennessee looks like up close. I have watched neighbors drive forty-five minutes to the nearest clinic for tests that should have taken fifteen minutes and cost next to nothing. I have watched families delay care not because they didn't know something was wrong, but because knowing officially meant time off work, long drives, and bills that didn't fit the budget. With the knowledge I gain in bioinformatics, I want to change that by building point-of-care devices that deliver results in minutes, diagnostic and monitoring tools that catch diseases at their earliest, most treatable stages, and wearable biosensors that monitor patients without requiring them to travel, all with affordability and accessibility at their core, thereby promoting health equity. I know that innovation means nothing if it’s not at the fingertips of the people who need it most, and I’ve started building toward that goal. Throughout my freshman year, I was a research assistant at a cardiovascular research lab at Meharry Medical School right here in Tennessee. Then, I spent the summer as a research intern at Yale University. Later, I interned at the University of Illinois Chicago, researching and testing prototypes in real clinical conditions. These experiences led me to develop medical software that uses circadian rhythm data to optimize sleep and wake times, thereby reducing fatigue among college students. I know I will succeed because my drive is a product of real struggle. Living in Tennessee, I've seen what happens when someone doesn't get access to the right care at the right time, and I've spent the last few years proving I can do something about it. I refuse to accept it as the norm. This Power of We Scholarship will fund the years of work ahead that would mean someone else doesn't have to sit in a waiting room, wondering if they'll get their chance to be fine, their own 15 minutes. I'm working so that every person gets a different ending than my grandmother did, so that the technology exists before the diagnosis comes. With the Joe D. Martin, Jr. North Star Scholarship's support, I will make sure that fifteen minutes is all it takes, every single time, for every single person.

Seven-year-olds aren't supposed to know what an endoscopy is, or wonder why the doctor didn't suggest one. But when you're scared and waiting, you notice everything. I was 6 when we found out my grandmother had Helicobacter pylori. The male doctor said, "it was nothing, just an ulcer, she was fine." She was not. I was 7 when she was diagnosed with stomach cancer, and 8 when she passed. Years later, at 16, I was diagnosed with Helicobacter pylori. My mom held my hand the same way I'd held my grandmother's a decade before. But this time, the story went differently. A Black female doctor, a simple breath test, fifteen minutes, and we had answers. Treatment started the next week. It would all be fine. But the truth is, not everyone gets their fifteen minutes. Not everyone gets to be fine. The gap between what's medically possible and what's actually accessible is why I chose medical technology. I want to create diagnostic devices that catch diseases early, point-of-care devices delivering results in minutes, wearable biosensors monitoring patients remotely, tools with affordability and accessibility at their core. I've always wondered why there aren't more people who look like me building them. Black women make up only 3 percent of the tech workforce and 2.8 percent of physicians. At the intersection where I stand, those numbers get even smaller, meaning more women risk being overlooked simply because they lack representation. But you know what they say—the best time to plant a tree was twenty years ago; the second best time is now. At 17, I took a teaching position at Cuddles Childminders & Schools, rewriting that story that began in the hospital room. Beyond teaching, I helped my Black female students reimagine who they could be in spaces that so often erase them. I designed a curriculum combining professional development with STEM learning, weaving confidence into every lesson. I introduced them to LinkedIn and guided them in building profiles celebrating their achievements. By the time I left, every student had a professional LinkedIn page, proudly posting their projects and embracing their identities in tech. At Fisk University, I became a voice for women in STEM. Through ColorStack, Girls Who Code, and Rewriting the Code, I helped students feel seen and supported. After leading a team to win the Girls Who Code hackathon, I've connected over 30 female students with scholarships, internships, and bootcamps. Yet this is just the beginning. I don't just want to hold the door open, I want to build more doors. I plan to formalize these efforts into an organization with curriculum connecting lessons to health challenges in underserved communities. Students will learn Python while analyzing health disparities, build prototypes while understanding why medical devices fail the people who need them most. I'm partnering with HBCUs and community health centers to create pipelines where people identify diagnostic gaps and build solutions. Eventually, I'll establish my medical technology company built with accessibility and equity embedded in every decision. We'll provide global internships, research positions, and leadership roles for women of color. I'll establish scholarships funding tuition, conference attendance, and research projects, opportunities reaching young women across the globe still waiting on their fifteen minutes. Every Black woman entering medical technology changes whose problems get solved, whose pain gets believed, whose grandmother gets that endoscopy. I'm planting trees now so the next generation won't have to wait. With the Zedikiah Randolph Memorial Scholarship's support, I'll ensure everyone gets the chance to be fully represented, and that fifteen minutes is all it takes, every single time, for every single person.