I was raised to believe that where you start in life doesn’t define where you’ll end up, but it does shape how you choose to help others. As a first-generation college student and future physician, I carry with me a deep understanding of what it means to navigate systems not built with people like me in mind. And because of that, I’ve made it my mission to serve those who are too often overlooked or underserved by the healthcare system. I’m currently pursuing a degree in psychology at Ohio University with plans to attend medical school and become a psychiatrist. My interest in medicine started early, sparked by monthly science books my parents subscribed me to before I could even read. I would spend hours flipping through images of planets, animals, and the human body, captivated by the complexity of life and the power of healing. That early curiosity never left me, it just grew more focused as I learned how mental health, trauma, and access to care can profoundly shape a person’s life. But my path hasn’t been easy. I was diagnosed with ADD as a child and spent years struggling to find the right balance of medication, structure, and support. I often felt like my brain worked against me, racing ahead in some areas, stalling out in others. I’ve also had to navigate the financial realities of college largely on my own. Being first generation means there’s no family playbook for higher education. Everything I’ve achieved so far has been the result of perseverance, trial and error, and learning how to advocate for myself. Those challenges have become the foundation of my purpose. I plan to use my career in medicine to make healthcare more human, more empathetic, more accessible, and more inclusive. I want to work in underserved communities, particularly with children and adolescents, helping them manage mental health issues early and fully. I want to be the kind of doctor who doesn’t just treat symptoms, but understands the social, emotional, and cultural roots of a person’s pain. Like Catrina Celestine Aquilino, I believe justice and care should never depend on where someone was born or what circumstances they come from. I want to extend my reach across communities, crossing boundaries of class, race, and geography to bring compassionate care to those who need it most. In the future, I also hope to work on public health initiatives and policy reform, helping reshape systems that too often fail vulnerable populations. What stands out to me most about Catrina’s legacy is the way she cast her circle wide, learning from other cultures, listening to unheard voices, and offering her brilliance with generosity and humility. That’s the model I hope to follow in medicine. Not just to practice, but to serve. Not just to cure, but to connect. Receiving this scholarship would not only support my journey to medical school, but it would also connect me to a legacy of courage, compassion, and justice. It would remind me that no matter the obstacles I’ve faced, I have a responsibility to reach back, reach out, and help others find their way forward.

I wasn’t born into a family of doctors, but I carry the dreams of one. My grandmother was a candy striper who eventually became a phlebotomist, or as she proudly called herself, a “veena puncturist.” She was drawn to medicine, driven by compassion and curiosity, and if life had offered her more opportunities, I believe she would have become a physician. That dream, unrealized in her lifetime, lives on in me. I want to become a medical doctor because I believe healing is about more than diagnosing conditions, it’s about seeing people fully. From the time I was a child, flipping through monthly science books before I could even read, I was fascinated by the human body and mind. That early wonder transformed into a deep desire to understand people and help them through some of the hardest moments of their lives. Over time, my passion focused on psychiatry, where I hope to provide care to underserved communities often left behind by our healthcare system. But getting here hasn’t been easy. I’m a first-generation college student, and navigating higher education has meant facing challenges at every turn. I’ve had to figure out everything, from how to fill out financial aid forms to how to balance work and coursework, all on my own. The path to medicine is already demanding, but when you’re also carrying the weight of financial strain, every step forward feels like a fight. Preparing for medical school has been one of the most rewarding and difficult experiences of my life. Between tuition, textbooks, MCAT prep, and the looming cost of applications and travel, the financial barriers are real and ever-present. Still, I push forward because the end goal isn’t just a title, it’s a mission. I want to become the kind of doctor who brings care to communities where it’s often absent, especially when it comes to mental health. I want to be a consistent, trustworthy presence in the lives of people who feel invisible. The story of Emanuel “Manny” Weiner resonates deeply with me. Like my grandmother, he had the heart, intellect, and drive for medicine but was held back by financial constraints. I often think about how many brilliant, compassionate people are never given the chance to become the doctors they could be. That thought doesn’t discourage me, it motivates me. It reminds me that every scholarship, every ounce of support, matters. The challenges I’ve faced have shaped me into someone who will not just be a doctor, but a deeply empathetic one. I’ll walk into every exam room carrying not only my knowledge, but also the understanding of what it means to struggle, to be unseen, to have to fight for every opportunity. And I’ll use that understanding to listen more closely, to advocate more fiercely, and to serve with a level of care that goes beyond clinical treatment. This scholarship would not only lighten my financial burden, but it would also affirm the legacy I carry and help me turn generational limitations into lifelong impact.