Before I was me, I was a wish—a young immigrant couple’s dream to raise a child in the nation of opportunity their feet had just touched down upon. You made it your mission to make their dream come true, devoting a year to treating the husband’s oligospermia and wife’s uterine tumors. You tried every hormonal therapy and medication in your arsenal, persisting even when my parents' infertility seemed impossible to combat. Twelve months later, you hold the syringe that safely delivers me—a blastocyst at the time—into my mother’s endometrium. At six years old, I step into your office for the first time as a human being—a little girl in a Tinkerbell T-shirt with her black hair in pigtails. My mother told me she was going to see "the doctor," but I never expected you. Before I met you, all the medical professionals I ever encountered were old, Caucasian men with blue eyes and white coats. But when I beheld you, sitting at your desk in a turtleneck sweater with a warm smile on your face, I saw that a Chinese woman like me could become a physician, too. At ten, I watch as my mom screams into her pillow in agony. There is blood on the sheets, but she is in too much pain to stand up and grab a pad from the bathroom. I stood there, helpless and paralyzed at the traumatizing sight of my mother in so much anguish. My father calls you on the phone, and you pick up right away. Less than a day later, you had my mother back home, safe and healthy. At thirteen, I watch as you hold my mom’s hand, explaining that she could finally receive the hysterectomy she waited two decades for. I’ll never forget the beaming smile on my mother’s face at the news that she’d never again have to live with fibroids or dysmenorrhea. I knew right then I wanted to become a reproductive endocrinologist and do what you did: provide care and hope to women in need. At seventeen, I do everything I can to follow in your footsteps and bring positive change to society. I have filled several notebooks from cover to cover with notes from the 8 classes I took on Coursera outside of school. These classes taught me about the experiences of puberty, pregnancy, and childbirth for women all around the world. As an aspiring fertility specialist and a passionate women’s health advocate, I negotiated with administration staff members and raised funds by running bake sales to push for the installation of Aunt Flow menstrual product dispensers in every female and gender-neutral bathroom in my school building to combat period poverty and menstruation stigma in my community. Because of my efforts and proactivity, everyone with a uterus at Upper Merion Area High School now has access to free pads and tampons. Everybody deserves to have the materials necessary for their health and hygiene available to them, and I’ll never stop fighting until they do. I decided to further the reach of my service by partnering with CHOP, single-handedly packaging over 200 bags of feminine hygiene products to distribute to patients at the hospital. Dr. Li Xiaoqing, thank you for bringing my parents’ wish to life…literally. The embryo you fertilized eighteen years ago is now a driven student pursuing a career as an REI, so she can make IVF accessible to anyone else who wants their wish granted. She is using this life you gave her to fight for menstrual equity and women's health. In eighteen more years, you’ll know of her as Jenna Xue, MD.

Before I was me, I was a wish—a young immigrant couple’s dream to raise a child in the nation of opportunity their feet had just touched down upon. You made it your mission to make their dream come true, devoting a year to treating the husband’s oligospermia and wife’s uterine tumors. You tried every hormonal therapy and medication in your arsenal, persisting even when my parents' infertility seemed impossible to combat. Twelve months later, you hold the syringe that safely delivers me—a blastocyst at the time—into my mother’s endometrium. At six years old, I step into your office for the first time as a human being—a little girl in a Tinkerbell T-shirt with her black hair in pigtails. My mother told me she was going to see "the doctor," but I never expected you. Before I met you, all the medical professionals I ever encountered were old, Caucasian men with blue eyes and white coats. But when I beheld you, sitting at your desk in a turtleneck sweater with a warm smile on your face, I saw that a Chinese woman like me could become a physician, too. At ten, I watch as my mom screams into her pillow in agony. There is blood on the sheets, but she is in too much pain to stand up and grab a pad from the bathroom. I stood there, helpless and paralyzed at the traumatizing sight of my mother in so much anguish. My father calls you on the phone, and you pick up right away. Less than a day later, you had my mother back home, safe and healthy. At thirteen, I watch as you hold my mom’s hand, explaining that she could finally receive the hysterectomy she waited two decades for. I’ll never forget the beaming smile on my mother’s face at the news that she’d never again have to live with fibroids or dysmenorrhea. I knew right then I wanted to become a reproductive endocrinologist and do what you did: provide care and hope to women in need. At seventeen, I do everything I can to follow in your footsteps and bring positive change to society. I have filled several notebooks from cover to cover with notes from the 8 classes I took on Coursera outside of school. These classes taught me about the experiences of puberty, pregnancy, and childbirth for women all around the world. As an aspiring fertility specialist and a passionate women’s health advocate, I negotiated with administration staff members and raised funds by running bake sales to push for the installation of Aunt Flow menstrual product dispensers in every female and gender-neutral bathroom in my school building to combat period poverty and menstruation stigma in my community. Because of my efforts and proactivity, everyone with a uterus at Upper Merion Area High School now has access to free pads and tampons. Everybody deserves to have the materials necessary for their health and hygiene available to them, and I’ll never stop fighting until they do. I decided to further the reach of my service by partnering with CHOP, single-handedly packaging over 200 bags of feminine hygiene products to distribute to patients at the hospital. Dr. Li Xiaoqing, thank you for bringing my parents’ wish to life…literally. The embryo you fertilized eighteen years ago is now a driven student pursuing a career as an REI, so she can make IVF accessible to anyone else who wants their wish granted. She is using this life you gave her to fight for menstrual equity and women's health. In eighteen more years, you’ll know of her as Jenna Xue, MD.

Before I was me, I was a wish—a young immigrant couple’s dream to raise a child in the nation of opportunity their feet had just touched down upon. You made it your mission to make their dream come true, devoting a year to treating the husband’s oligospermia and wife’s uterine tumors. You tried every hormonal therapy and medication in your arsenal, persisting even when my parents' infertility seemed impossible to combat. Twelve months later, you hold the syringe that safely delivers me—a blastocyst at the time—into my mother’s endometrium. At six years old, I step into your office for the first time as a human being—a little girl in a Tinkerbell T-shirt with her black hair in pigtails. My mother told me she was going to see "the doctor," but I never expected you. Before I met you, all the medical professionals I ever encountered were old, Caucasian men with blue eyes and white coats. But when I beheld you, sitting at your desk in a turtleneck sweater with a warm smile on your face, I saw that a Chinese woman like me could become a physician, too. At ten, I watch as my mom screams into her pillow in agony. There is blood on the sheets, but she is in too much pain to stand up and grab a pad from the bathroom. I stood there, helpless and paralyzed at the traumatizing sight of my mother in so much anguish. My father calls you on the phone, and you pick up right away. Less than a day later, you had my mother back home, safe and healthy. At thirteen, I watch as you hold my mom’s hand, explaining that she could finally receive the hysterectomy she waited two decades for. I’ll never forget the beaming smile on my mother’s face at the news that she’d never again have to live with fibroids or dysmenorrhea. I knew right then I wanted to become a reproductive endocrinologist and do what you did: provide care and hope to women in need. At seventeen, I do everything I can to follow in your footsteps and bring positive change to society. I have filled several notebooks from cover to cover with notes from the 8 classes I took on Coursera outside of school. These classes taught me about the experiences of puberty, pregnancy, and childbirth for women all around the world. As an aspiring fertility specialist and a passionate women’s health advocate, I negotiated with administration staff members and raised funds by running bake sales to push for the installation of Aunt Flow menstrual product dispensers in every female and gender-neutral bathroom in my school building to combat period poverty and menstruation stigma in my community. Because of my efforts and proactivity, everyone with a uterus at Upper Merion Area High School now has access to free pads and tampons. Everybody deserves to have the materials necessary for their health and hygiene available to them, and I’ll never stop fighting until they do. I decided to further the reach of my service by partnering with CHOP, single-handedly packaging over 200 bags of feminine hygiene products to distribute to patients at the hospital. Dr. Li Xiaoqing, thank you for bringing my parents’ wish to life…literally. The embryo you fertilized eighteen years ago is now a driven student pursuing a career as an REI, so she can make IVF accessible to anyone else who wants their wish granted. She is using this life you gave her to fight for menstrual equity and women's health. In eighteen more years, you’ll know of her as Jenna Xue, MD.

Before I was me, I was a wish—a young immigrant couple’s dream to raise a child in the nation of opportunity their feet had just touched down upon. You made it your mission to make their dream come true, devoting a year to treating the husband’s oligospermia and wife’s uterine tumors. You tried every hormonal therapy and medication in your arsenal, persisting even when my parents' infertility seemed impossible to combat. Twelve months later, you hold the syringe that safely delivers me—a blastocyst at the time—into my mother’s endometrium. At six years old, I step into your office for the first time as a human being—a little girl in a Tinkerbell T-shirt with her black hair in pigtails. My mother told me she was going to see "the doctor," but I never expected you. Before I met you, all the medical professionals I ever encountered were old, Caucasian men with blue eyes and white coats. But when I beheld you, sitting at your desk in a turtleneck sweater with a warm smile on your face, I saw that a Chinese woman like me could become a physician, too. At ten, I watch as my mom screams into her pillow in agony. There is blood on the sheets, but she is in too much pain to stand up and grab a pad from the bathroom. I stood there, helpless and paralyzed at the traumatizing sight of my mother in so much anguish. My father calls you on the phone, and you pick up right away. Less than a day later, you had my mother back home, safe and healthy. At thirteen, I watch as you hold my mom’s hand, explaining that she could finally receive the hysterectomy she waited two decades for. I’ll never forget the beaming smile on my mother’s face at the news that she’d never again have to live with fibroids or dysmenorrhea. I knew right then I wanted to become a reproductive endocrinologist and do what you did: provide care and hope to women in need. At seventeen, I do everything I can to follow in your footsteps and bring positive change to society. I have filled several notebooks from cover to cover with notes from the 8 classes I took on Coursera outside of school. These classes taught me about the experiences of puberty, pregnancy, and childbirth for women all around the world. As an aspiring fertility specialist and a passionate women’s health advocate, I negotiated with administration staff members and raised funds by running bake sales to push for the installation of Aunt Flow menstrual product dispensers in every female and gender-neutral bathroom in my school building to combat period poverty and menstruation stigma in my community. Because of my efforts and proactivity, everyone with a uterus at Upper Merion Area High School now has access to free pads and tampons. Everybody deserves to have the materials necessary for their health and hygiene available to them, and I’ll never stop fighting until they do. I decided to further the reach of my service by partnering with CHOP, single-handedly packaging over 200 bags of feminine hygiene products to distribute to patients at the hospital. Dr. Li Xiaoqing, thank you for bringing my parents’ wish to life…literally. The embryo you fertilized eighteen years ago is now a driven student pursuing a career as an REI, so she can make IVF accessible to anyone else who wants their wish granted. She is using this life you gave her to fight for menstrual equity and women's health. In eighteen more years, you’ll know of her as Jenna Xue, MD.

Before I was me, I was a wish—a young immigrant couple’s dream to raise a child in the nation of opportunity their feet had just touched down upon. You made it your mission to make their dream come true, devoting a year to treating the husband’s oligospermia and wife’s uterine tumors. You tried every hormonal therapy and medication in your arsenal, persisting even when my parents' infertility seemed impossible to combat. Twelve months later, you hold the syringe that safely delivers me—a blastocyst at the time—into my mother’s endometrium. At six years old, I step into your office for the first time as a human being—a little girl in a Tinkerbell T-shirt with her black hair in pigtails. My mother told me she was going to see "the doctor," but I never expected you. Before I met you, all the medical professionals I ever encountered were old, Caucasian men with blue eyes and white coats. But when I beheld you, sitting at your desk in a turtleneck sweater with a warm smile on your face, I saw that a Chinese woman like me could become a physician, too. At ten, I watch as my mom screams into her pillow in agony. There is blood on the sheets, but she is in too much pain to stand up and grab a pad from the bathroom. I stood there, helpless and paralyzed at the traumatizing sight of my mother in so much anguish. My father calls you on the phone, and you pick up right away. Less than a day later, you had my mother back home, safe and healthy. At thirteen, I watch as you hold my mom’s hand, explaining that she could finally receive the hysterectomy she waited two decades for. I’ll never forget the beaming smile on my mother’s face at the news that she’d never again have to live with fibroids or dysmenorrhea. I knew right then I wanted to become a reproductive endocrinologist and do what you did: provide care and hope to women in need. At seventeen, I do everything I can to follow in your footsteps and bring positive change to society. I have filled several notebooks from cover to cover with notes from the 8 classes I took on Coursera outside of school. These classes taught me about the experiences of puberty, pregnancy, and childbirth for women all around the world. As an aspiring fertility specialist and a passionate women’s health advocate, I negotiated with administration staff members and raised funds by running bake sales to push for the installation of Aunt Flow menstrual product dispensers in every female and gender-neutral bathroom in my school building to combat period poverty and menstruation stigma in my community. Because of my efforts and proactivity, everyone with a uterus at Upper Merion Area High School now has access to free pads and tampons. Everybody deserves to have the materials necessary for their health and hygiene available to them, and I’ll never stop fighting until they do. I decided to further the reach of my service by partnering with CHOP, single-handedly packaging over 200 bags of feminine hygiene products to distribute to patients at the hospital. Dr. Li Xiaoqing, thank you for bringing my parents’ wish to life…literally. The embryo you fertilized eighteen years ago is now a driven student pursuing a career as an REI, so she can make IVF accessible to anyone else who wants their wish granted. She is using this life you gave her to fight for menstrual equity and women's health. In eighteen more years, you’ll know of her as Jenna Xue, MD.

Before I was me, I was a wish—a young immigrant couple’s dream to raise a child in the nation of opportunity their feet had just touched down upon. You made it your mission to make their dream come true, devoting a year to treating the husband’s oligospermia and wife’s uterine tumors. You tried every hormonal therapy and medication in your arsenal, persisting even when my parents' infertility seemed impossible to combat. Twelve months later, you hold the syringe that safely delivers me—a blastocyst at the time—into my mother’s endometrium. At six years old, I step into your office for the first time as a human being—a little girl in a Tinkerbell T-shirt with her black hair in pigtails. My mother told me she was going to see "the doctor," but I never expected you. Before I met you, all the medical professionals I ever encountered were old, Caucasian men with blue eyes and white coats. But when I beheld you, sitting at your desk in a turtleneck sweater with a warm smile on your face, I saw that a Chinese woman like me could become a physician, too. At ten, I watch as my mom screams into her pillow in agony. There is blood on the sheets, but she is in too much pain to stand up and grab a pad from the bathroom. I stood there, helpless and paralyzed at the traumatizing sight of my mother in so much anguish. My father calls you on the phone, and you pick up right away. Less than a day later, you had my mother back home, safe and healthy. At thirteen, I watch as you hold my mom’s hand, explaining that she could finally receive the hysterectomy she waited two decades for. I’ll never forget the beaming smile on my mother’s face at the news that she’d never again have to live with fibroids or dysmenorrhea. I knew right then I wanted to become a reproductive endocrinologist and do what you did: provide care and hope to women in need. At seventeen, I do everything I can to follow in your footsteps and bring positive change to society. I have filled several notebooks from cover to cover with notes from the 8 classes I took on Coursera outside of school. These classes taught me about the experiences of puberty, pregnancy, and childbirth for women all around the world. As an aspiring fertility specialist and a passionate women’s health advocate, I negotiated with administration staff members and raised funds by running bake sales to push for the installation of Aunt Flow menstrual product dispensers in every female and gender-neutral bathroom in my school building to combat period poverty and menstruation stigma in my community. Because of my efforts and proactivity, everyone with a uterus at Upper Merion Area High School now has access to free pads and tampons. Everybody deserves to have the materials necessary for their health and hygiene available to them, and I’ll never stop fighting until they do. I decided to further the reach of my service by partnering with CHOP, single-handedly packaging over 200 bags of feminine hygiene products to distribute to patients at the hospital. Dr. Li Xiaoqing, thank you for bringing my parents’ wish to life…literally. The embryo you fertilized eighteen years ago is now a driven student pursuing a career as an REI, so she can make IVF accessible to anyone else who wants their wish granted. She is using this life you gave her to fight for menstrual equity and women's health. In eighteen more years, you’ll know of her as Jenna Xue, MD.

Before I was me, I was a wish—a young immigrant couple’s dream to raise a child in the nation of opportunity their feet had just touched down upon. You made it your mission to make their dream come true, devoting a year to treating the husband’s oligospermia and wife’s uterine tumors. You tried every hormonal therapy and medication in your arsenal, persisting even when my parents' infertility seemed impossible to combat. Twelve months later, you hold the syringe that safely delivers me—a blastocyst at the time—into my mother’s endometrium. At six years old, I step into your office for the first time as a human being—a little girl in a Tinkerbell T-shirt with her black hair in pigtails. My mother told me she was going to see "the doctor," but I never expected you. Before I met you, all the medical professionals I ever encountered were old, Caucasian men with blue eyes and white coats. But when I beheld you, sitting at your desk in a turtleneck sweater with a warm smile on your face, I saw that a Chinese woman like me could become a physician, too. At ten, I watch as my mom screams into her pillow in agony. There is blood on the sheets, but she is in too much pain to stand up and grab a pad from the bathroom. I stood there, helpless and paralyzed at the traumatizing sight of my mother in so much anguish. My father calls you on the phone, and you pick up right away. Less than a day later, you had my mother back home, safe and healthy. At thirteen, I watch as you hold my mom’s hand, explaining that she could finally receive the hysterectomy she waited two decades for. I’ll never forget the beaming smile on my mother’s face at the news that she’d never again have to live with fibroids or dysmenorrhea. I knew right then I wanted to become a reproductive endocrinologist and do what you did: provide care and hope to women in need. At seventeen, I do everything I can to follow in your footsteps and bring positive change to society. I have filled several notebooks from cover to cover with notes from the 8 classes I took on Coursera outside of school. These classes taught me about the experiences of puberty, pregnancy, and childbirth for women all around the world. As an aspiring fertility specialist and a passionate women’s health advocate, I negotiated with administration staff members and raised funds by running bake sales to push for the installation of Aunt Flow menstrual product dispensers in every female and gender-neutral bathroom in my school building to combat period poverty and menstruation stigma in my community. Because of my efforts and proactivity, everyone with a uterus at Upper Merion Area High School now has access to free pads and tampons. Everybody deserves to have the materials necessary for their health and hygiene available to them, and I’ll never stop fighting until they do. I decided to further the reach of my service by partnering with CHOP, single-handedly packaging over 200 bags of feminine hygiene products to distribute to patients at the hospital. Dr. Li Xiaoqing, thank you for bringing my parents’ wish to life…literally. The embryo you fertilized eighteen years ago is now a driven student pursuing a career as an REI, so she can make IVF accessible to anyone else who wants their wish granted. She is using this life you gave her to fight for menstrual equity and women's health. In eighteen more years, you’ll know of her as Jenna Xue, MD.

“What’s all this?” my dad grunted in disapproval as he took in the sight of me cradling a colorful stack of cardstock in my arms. “I’m decorating a bulletin board to donate to the middle school.” I answered, dumping the art supplies onto the checkout conveyor belt. “It’ll celebrate the identities of LGBTQ+ students and—” “You’re wasting my hard-earned wages on a…gay poster? School is teaching you that homosexuals need to be…celebrated?!” I was accustomed to my father making homophobic comments in public, but his words stung all the same. During the awkward drive home, I couldn’t stop thinking about the time he’d shouted “Disgusting!” in the middle of a crowded movie theater during a lesbian kiss scene…or the time he caught me reading Heartstopper and said “Stop endorsing brainwash material.” My dad isn’t a purposefully hateful man, but he did grow up in communist China—an environment where the alienation and abuse of LGBTQ+ people was normalized. He claims Asianness and queerness cannot coexist, that Chinese people identifying as LGBTQ+ have either been whitewashed or brainwashed. Navigating life as a bisexual girl under my homophobic father’s disapproving eye was once a painful struggle. After months of journaling and self-improvement, I came to view my experiences as sources of inspiration. I wove stories of my dad's alienating glare and my inability to please him into a series of poems, one of which (Burnt Out) won Columbia University Press’ National Student Poetry Contest. I now understand that my father's heteronormative assumptions were taught to him, which means tolerance and love can be taught as well. The only way to fight homophobia is to educate and support others…and that’s exactly what I did. I hosted LGBTQ+ education sessions in my gifted teacher’s classroom during Lunch Period, teaching my classmates about the Stonewall Uprising, the rainbow Pride flag’s evolution, and queer celebrities who’d changed the world. I provide virtual support to queer youth all over the world as a volunteer Listener on 7 Cups. I gave a 14-year-old from Kenya a shoulder to cry on after their mother disowned them for being non-binary. I helped a 17-year-old boy in Greece work up the courage to reveal his transgender identity to his partner. I validated the feelings of a young Iraqi girl questioning her sexuality, explaining that there was no rush to choose a label or come out until she was ready. I became the President of my high school’s Gender/Sexuality Alliance, where I supervise group discussions regarding the queer experience, organize Pride Month parties, and facilitate trivia games to educate my peers on LGBTQ+ terminology. I did all of those things because I believed in the power of service and empowerment over ignorance and exclusion. To all of the young people out there who are struggling to find a sense of acceptance and belonging, know that you are not a victim of your life. No matter how hard it gets, there will always be ways to demonstrate agency and spread positive energy to others. Find people who have been through a similar experience to you and provide them with words of encouragement, appreciation, and love. You have something very special to offer the world. Never question your value. I’d stayed quiet the day my father yelled at me in the Michael’s checkout line. Now, I understand the importance of letting queer voices be heard. I recognize my right to be respected. I’ll never allow myself—or any of my friends—to be silenced again. And that “gay poster” I made? Three years later, it’s still hanging in the middle school GSA room, proud as can be.

Before I was me, I was a wish—a young immigrant couple’s dream to raise a child in the nation of opportunity their feet had just touched down upon. You made it your mission to make their dream come true, devoting a year to treating the husband’s oligospermia and wife’s uterine tumors. You tried every hormonal therapy and medication in your arsenal, persisting even when my parents' infertility seemed impossible to combat. Twelve months later, you hold the syringe that safely delivers me—a blastocyst at the time—into my mother’s endometrium. At six years old, I step into your office for the first time as a human being—a little girl in a Tinkerbell T-shirt with her black hair in pigtails. My mother told me she was going to see "the doctor," but I never expected you. Before I met you, all the medical professionals I ever encountered were old, Caucasian men with blue eyes and white coats. But when I beheld you, sitting at your desk in a turtleneck sweater with a warm smile on your face, I saw that a Chinese woman like me could become a physician, too. At ten, I watch as my mom screams into her pillow in agony. There is blood on the sheets, but she is in too much pain to stand up and grab a pad from the bathroom. I stood there, helpless and paralyzed at the traumatizing sight of my mother in so much anguish. My father calls you on the phone, and you pick up right away. Less than a day later, you had my mother back home, safe and healthy. At thirteen, I watch as you hold my mom’s hand, explaining that she could finally receive the hysterectomy she waited two decades for. I’ll never forget the beaming smile on my mother’s face at the news that she’d never again have to live with fibroids or dysmenorrhea. I knew right then I wanted to become a reproductive endocrinologist and do what you did: provide care and hope to women in need. At seventeen, I do everything I can to follow in your footsteps and bring positive change to society. I have filled several notebooks from cover to cover with notes from the 8 classes I took on Coursera outside of school. These classes taught me about the experiences of puberty, pregnancy, and childbirth for women all around the world. As an aspiring fertility specialist and a passionate women’s health advocate, I negotiated with administration staff members and raised funds by running bake sales to push for the installation of Aunt Flow menstrual product dispensers in every female and gender-neutral bathroom in my school building to combat period poverty and menstruation stigma in my community. Because of my efforts and proactivity, everyone with a uterus at Upper Merion Area High School now has access to free pads and tampons. Everybody deserves to have the materials necessary for their health and hygiene available to them, and I’ll never stop fighting until they do. I decided to further the reach of my service by partnering with CHOP, single-handedly packaging over 200 bags of feminine hygiene products to distribute to patients at the hospital. Dr. Li Xiaoqing, thank you for bringing my parents’ wish to life…literally. The embryo you fertilized eighteen years ago is now a driven student pursuing a career as an REI, so she can make IVF accessible to anyone else who wants their wish granted. She is using this life you gave her to fight for menstrual equity and women's health. In eighteen more years, you’ll know of her as Jenna Xue, MD.

I’m alive today because of a reproductive endocrinologist. I started life in a petri dish, as an X-chromosome-carrying sperm swimming tirelessly to find its ovum. The odds of my birth were next to none, so my mother always told me I was magic. As a kid, I believed her words literally. I spent my childhood zealously searching for my supposed superpowers, binge-watching Avatar: The Last Airbender in hopes that it would somehow teach me the secrets to telekinetically manipulating matter. As my number of unwatched episodes dwindled, Avatar revealed to me something far more important than how to summon a tidal wave or conjure a raging inferno: Like Sokka and Suki, I don't need superhuman abilities to be a hero. Now, I’m a master of all four elements…in my own way. I’ve discovered what magic means for myself and used my unique powers to change the world. I’m an Airbender. — As Founder and Student Head of the Viking Nation Meditation Station, I volunteer my free mornings before class starts to supervise mindfulness activities in the library classroom, open for all students to participate in. I also promote mental health awareness on an international level by serving as a Verified Teen Listener on 7 Cups of Tea. As a VTL, I’ve provided 1-on-1 messaging support to adolescents in over 20 countries, from kids struggling with their homework to victims of sexual assault. Like air, my positive impact doesn’t idle in place; it diffuses across the globe. I’m an Earthbender. — As Founder and President for 3 years of Upper Merion’s environmentalism club, the Planet Protectors, I’ve contributed to the planting of two gardens in the township, baked Rice Krispie treats and written thank-you cards for school custodians, and assisted Upper Merion Parks and Recreation in their annual recycling event. Every year, the Planet Protectors collect plastic bags from students and teachers and upcycle them into plarn mattresses for the Bags to Beds Project. Like earth, I’m resourceful, always finding ways to make the most of my assets and time. I’m a Firebender. — As the fearless Captain of the Marching Vikings Color Guard, I lead our talented team of dancers with fiery enthusiasm on and off the field—running pre-rehearsal stretches, taping weapons, cleaning the equipment closet, and both giving and being open to receiving constructive criticism. During the off-season, I continue pursuing my love of flagwork, teaching myself new tosses every weekend. In my junior year, I choreographed an original flag dance over the course of five months to perform in the Spring Talent Show. Like fire, I’m persistent and dedicated, forever burning with a drive to self-improve. I’m a Waterbender. — As a passionate women’s health advocate and aspiring fertility doctor, I spearheaded an initiative to push for the installation of Aunt Flow menstrual product dispensers in my school’s bathrooms to combat the urgent issues of period poverty and menstruation stigma. When administrators rejected my proposal, I refused to let that stop me from helping girls in need. Collaborating with the Feminism Club, I organized bake sales and used the funds we raised to purchase over 1200 pads, all of which I single-handedly packaged and donated to CHOP patients and people in Norristown’s homeless shelter. Like water, I bring life and hope everywhere I go, regardless of obstacles in my way. My mother was right. I’m a leader, innovator, performing artist, and activist all in one. That’s my magic. I’m Avatar: The First Generation College Student, and my journey is far from over. I’m alive today because of a reproductive endocrinologist. I’ll change lives tomorrow as a reproductive endocrinologist.

Before I was me, I was a wish—a young immigrant couple’s dream to raise a child in the nation of opportunity their feet had just touched down upon. You made it your mission to make their dream come true, devoting a year to treating the husband’s oligospermia and wife’s uterine tumors. You tried every hormonal therapy and medication in your arsenal, persisting even when my parents' infertility seemed impossible to combat. Twelve months later, you hold the syringe that safely delivers me—a blastocyst at the time—into my mother’s endometrium. At six years old, I step into your office for the first time as a human being—a little girl in a Tinkerbell T-shirt with her black hair in pigtails. My mother told me she was going to see "the doctor," but I never expected you. Before I met you, all the medical workers I ever encountered were old, Caucasian men with blue eyes and white coats. But when I beheld you, sitting at your desk in a turtleneck sweater with a warm smile on your face, I saw that a Chinese woman like me could become a healthcare professional, too. At ten, I watch as my mom screams into her pillow in agony. There is blood on the sheets, but she is in too much pain to stand up and grab a pad from the bathroom. I stood there, helpless and paralyzed at the traumatizing sight of my mother in so much anguish. My father calls you on the phone, and you pick up right away. Less than a day later, you had my mother back home, safe and healthy. At thirteen, I watch as you hold my mom’s hand, explaining that she could finally receive the hysterectomy she waited two decades for. I’ll never forget the beaming smile on my mother’s face at the news that she’d never again have to live with fibroids or dysmenorrhea. I knew right then I wanted to become a reproductive endocrinologist and do what you did: provide care and hope to women in need. I have done everything I can to follow in your footsteps and bring positive change to society. I have filled several notebooks from cover to cover with notes from the 8 classes I took on Coursera outside of school. These classes taught me about the experiences of puberty, pregnancy, and childbirth for women all around the world. As an aspiring fertility specialist and a passionate women’s health advocate, I negotiated with administration staff members and raised funds by running bake sales to push for the installation of Aunt Flow menstrual product dispensers in every female and gender-neutral bathroom in my school building to combat period poverty and menstruation stigma in my community. Because of my efforts and proactivity, everyone with a uterus at Upper Merion Area High School now has access to free pads and tampons. Everybody deserves to have the materials necessary for their health and hygiene available to them, and I’ll never stop fighting until they do. I decided to further the reach of my service by partnering with CHOP, single-handedly packaging over 200 bags of feminine hygiene products to distribute to patients at the hospital. Dr. Li Xiaoqing, thank you for bringing my parents’ wish to life…literally. The embryo you fertilized eighteen years ago is now a driven student pursuing a career as an REI, so she can make IVF accessible to anyone else who wants their wish granted. She is using this life you gave her to fight for menstrual equity and women's health. In eighteen more years, you’ll know of her as Jenna Xue, MD.

Before I was me, I was a wish—a young immigrant couple’s dream to raise a child in the nation of opportunity their feet had just touched down upon. You made it your mission to make their dream come true, devoting a year to treating the husband’s oligospermia and wife’s uterine tumors. You tried every hormonal therapy and medication in your arsenal, persisting even when my parents' infertility seemed impossible to combat. Twelve months later, you hold the syringe that safely delivers me—a blastocyst at the time—into my mother’s endometrium. At six years old, I step into your office for the first time as a human being—a little girl in a Tinkerbell T-shirt with her black hair in pigtails. My mother told me she was going to see "the doctor," but I never expected you. Before I met you, all the medical workers I ever encountered were old, Caucasian men with blue eyes and white coats. But when I beheld you, sitting at your desk in a turtleneck sweater with a warm smile on your face, I saw that a Chinese woman like me could become a healthcare professional, too. At ten, I watch as my mom screams into her pillow in agony. There is blood on the sheets, but she is in too much pain to stand up and grab a pad from the bathroom. I stood there, helpless and paralyzed at the traumatizing sight of my mother in so much anguish. My father calls you on the phone, and you pick up right away. Less than a day later, you had my mother back home, safe and healthy. At thirteen, I watch as you hold my mom’s hand, explaining that she could finally receive the hysterectomy she waited two decades for. I’ll never forget the beaming smile on my mother’s face at the news that she’d never again have to live with fibroids or dysmenorrhea. I knew right then I wanted to become a reproductive endocrinologist and do what you did: provide care and hope to women in need. I have done everything I can to follow in your footsteps and bring positive change to society. I have filled several notebooks from cover to cover with notes from the 8 classes I took on Coursera outside of school. These classes taught me about the experiences of puberty, pregnancy, and childbirth for women all around the world. As an aspiring fertility specialist and a passionate women’s health advocate, I negotiated with administration staff members and raised funds by running bake sales to push for the installation of Aunt Flow menstrual product dispensers in every female and gender-neutral bathroom in my school building to combat period poverty and menstruation stigma in my community. Because of my efforts and proactivity, everyone with a uterus at Upper Merion Area High School now has access to free pads and tampons. Everybody deserves to have the materials necessary for their health and hygiene available to them, and I’ll never stop fighting until they do. I decided to further the reach of my service by partnering with CHOP, single-handedly packaging over 200 bags of feminine hygiene products to distribute to patients at the hospital. Dr. Li Xiaoqing, thank you for bringing my parents’ wish to life…literally. The embryo you fertilized eighteen years ago is now a driven student pursuing a career as an REI, so she can make IVF accessible to anyone else who wants their wish granted. She is using this life you gave her to fight for menstrual equity and women's health. In eighteen more years, you’ll know of her as Jenna Xue, MD.

I’m alive today because of a reproductive endocrinologist. I started life in a petri dish, as an X-chromosome-carrying sperm swimming tirelessly to find its ovum. The odds of my birth were next to none, so my mother always told me I was magic. As a kid, I believed her words literally. I spent my childhood zealously searching for my supposed superpowers, binge-watching Avatar: The Last Airbender in hopes that it would somehow teach me the secrets to telekinetically manipulating matter. As my number of unwatched episodes dwindled, Avatar revealed to me something far more important than how to summon a tidal wave or conjure a raging inferno: Like Sokka and Suki, I don't need superhuman abilities to be a hero. Now, I’m a master of all four elements…in my own way. I’ve discovered what magic means for myself and used my unique powers to change the world. I’m an Airbender. — As Founder and Student Head of the Viking Nation Meditation Station, I volunteer my free mornings before class starts to supervise mindfulness activities in the library classroom, open for all students to participate in. I also promote mental health awareness on an international level by serving as a Verified Teen Listener on 7 Cups of Tea. As a VTL, I’ve provided 1-on-1 messaging support to adolescents in over 20 countries, from kids struggling with their homework to victims of sexual assault. Like air, my positive impact doesn’t idle in place; it diffuses across the globe. I’m an Earthbender. — As Founder and President for 3 years of Upper Merion’s environmentalism club, the Planet Protectors, I’ve contributed to the planting of two gardens in the township, baked Rice Krispie treats and written thank-you cards for school custodians, and assisted Upper Merion Parks and Recreation in their annual recycling event. Every year, the Planet Protectors collect plastic bags from students and teachers and upcycle them into plarn mattresses for the Bags to Beds Project. Like earth, I’m resourceful, always finding ways to make the most of my assets and time. I’m a Firebender. — As the fearless Captain of the Marching Vikings Color Guard, I lead our talented team of dancers with fiery enthusiasm on and off the field—running pre-rehearsal stretches, taping weapons, cleaning the equipment closet, and both giving and being open to receiving constructive criticism. During the off-season, I continue pursuing my love of flagwork, teaching myself new tosses every weekend. In my junior year, I choreographed an original flag dance over the course of five months to perform in the Spring Talent Show. Like fire, I’m persistent and dedicated, forever burning with a drive to self-improve. I’m a Waterbender. — As a passionate women’s health advocate and aspiring fertility doctor, I spearheaded an initiative to push for the installation of Aunt Flow menstrual product dispensers in my school’s bathrooms to combat the urgent issues of period poverty and menstruation stigma. When administrators rejected my proposal, I refused to let that stop me from helping girls in need. Collaborating with the Feminism Club, I organized bake sales and used the funds we raised to purchase over 1200 pads, all of which I single-handedly packaged and donated to CHOP patients and people in Norristown’s homeless shelter. Like water, I bring life and hope everywhere I go, regardless of obstacles in my way. My mother was right. I’m a leader, innovator, performing artist, and activist all in one. That’s my magic. I’m Avatar: The First Generation College Student, and my journey is far from over. I’m alive today because of a reproductive endocrinologist. I’ll change lives tomorrow as a reproductive endocrinologist.

I’m alive today because of a reproductive endocrinologist. I started life in a petri dish, as an X-chromosome-carrying sperm swimming tirelessly to find its ovum. The odds of my birth were next to none, so my mother always told me I was magic. As a kid, I believed her words literally. I spent my childhood zealously searching for my supposed superpowers, binge-watching Avatar: The Last Airbender in hopes that it would somehow teach me the secrets to telekinetically manipulating matter. As my number of unwatched episodes dwindled, Avatar revealed to me something far more important than how to summon a tidal wave or conjure a raging inferno: Like Sokka and Suki, I don't need superhuman abilities to be a hero. Now, I’m a master of all four elements…in my own way. I’ve discovered what magic means for myself and used my unique powers to change the world. I’m an Airbender. — As Founder and Student Head of the Viking Nation Meditation Station, I volunteer my free mornings before class starts to supervise mindfulness activities in the library classroom, open for all students to participate in. With every inhale and exhale I guide my peers through, I’m doing my part to better the psychological well-being of my community. I also promote mental health awareness on an international level by serving as a Verified Teen Listener on 7 Cups of Tea. As a VTL, I’ve provided 1-on-1 messaging support to adolescents in over 20 countries, from kids struggling with their homework to victims of sexual assault. Like air, my positive impact doesn’t idle in place; it diffuses across the globe. I’m an Earthbender. — As Founder and President for 3 years of Upper Merion’s environmentalism club, the Planet Protectors, I’ve contributed to the planting of two gardens in the township, baked Rice Krispie treats and written thank-you cards for school custodians, and assisted Upper Merion Parks and Recreation in their annual recycling event. Every year, the Planet Protectors help to reduce our school’s carbon footprint by collecting plastic bags from students and teachers to upcycle into plarn mattresses for the Bags to Beds Project. During the numerous community cleanups I organized for this group, I noticed that much of the trash we picked up consisted of plastic bottles that could’ve easily been used to create life instead of polluting it. Thus, I led club members in upcycling the bottles into terrariums, in which we cultivated seedlings native to Pennsylvania, like Black-Eyed Susans. For our school’s Diversity Day celebration, I collected pieces of scrap paper from teachers around the building and constructed a model tree out of them, from which I hung leaves that students of all backgrounds decorated with aspects of their cultural identities. Like earth, I’m resourceful, always finding ways to make the most of my assets and time. I’m a Firebender. — As the fearless Captain of the Marching Vikings Color Guard, I lead our talented team of dancers with fiery enthusiasm on and off the field—running pre-rehearsal stretches, taping weapons, cleaning the equipment closet, and both giving and being open to receiving constructive criticism. During the off-season, I continue pursuing my love of flagwork, teaching myself new tosses every weekend and creating my own choreography. In junior year, I wrote an original flag dance over the course of five months to perform in the Spring Talent Show. Like fire, I’m persistent and dedicated, forever burning with a drive to self-improve. I’m a Waterbender. — As a passionate women’s health advocate and aspiring fertility doctor, I spearheaded an initiative to push for the installation of Aunt Flow menstrual product dispensers in my school’s bathrooms to combat the urgent issues of period poverty and menstruation stigma. When administrators rejected my proposal, I refused to let that stop me from helping girls in need. After all, everyone deserves to have the materials necessary for their health and hygiene accessible to them. Collaborating with the Feminism Club, I organized bake sales and used the funds we raised to purchase over 1000 pads, all of which I single-handedly packaged and donated to CHOP patients and people in Norristown’s homeless shelter. Like water, I bring life and hope everywhere I go, regardless of obstacles in my way. My mother was right. I’m a leader, innovator, performing artist, and activist all in one. That’s my magic. I’m Avatar: The First Generation College Student, and my journey is far from over. I’m alive today because of a reproductive endocrinologist. I’ll change lives tomorrow as a reproductive endocrinologist.

Before I was me, I was a wish—a young immigrant couple’s dream to raise a child in the nation of opportunity their feet had just touched down upon. You made it your mission to make their dream come true, devoting a year to treating the husband’s oligospermia and wife’s uterine tumors. You tried every hormonal therapy and medication in your arsenal, persisting even when my parents' infertility seemed impossible to combat. Twelve months later, you hold the syringe that safely delivers me—a blastocyst at the time—into my mother’s endometrium. At six years old, I step into your office for the first time as a human being—a little girl in a Tinkerbell T-shirt with her black hair in pigtails. My mother told me she was going to see "the doctor," but I never expected you. Before I met you, all the medical workers I ever encountered were old, Caucasian men with blue eyes and white coats. But when I beheld you, sitting at your desk in a turtleneck sweater with a warm smile on your face, I saw that a Chinese woman like me could become a healthcare professional, too. At ten, I watch as my mom screams into her pillow in agony. There is blood on the sheets, but she is in too much pain to stand up and grab a pad from the bathroom. I stood there, helpless and paralyzed at the traumatizing sight of my mother in so much anguish. My father calls you on the phone, and you pick up right away. Less than a day later, you had my mother back home, safe and healthy. At thirteen, I watch as you hold my mom’s hand, explaining that she could finally receive the hysterectomy she waited two decades for. I’ll never forget the beaming smile on my mother’s face at the news that she’d never again have to live with fibroids or dysmenorrhea. I knew right then I wanted to become a reproductive endocrinologist and do what you did: provide care and hope to women in need. I have done everything I can to follow in your footsteps and bring positive change to society. I have filled several notebooks from cover to cover with notes from the 8 classes I took on Coursera outside of school. These classes taught me about the experiences of puberty, pregnancy, and childbirth for women all around the world. As an aspiring fertility specialist and a passionate women’s health advocate, I negotiated with administration staff members and raised funds by running bake sales to push for the installation of Aunt Flow menstrual product dispensers in every female and gender-neutral bathroom in my school building to combat period poverty and menstruation stigma in my community. Because of my efforts and proactivity, everyone with a uterus at Upper Merion Area High School now has access to free pads and tampons. Everybody deserves to have the materials necessary for their health and hygiene available to them, and I’ll never stop fighting until they do. I decided to further the reach of my service by partnering with CHOP, single-handedly packaging over 200 bags of feminine hygiene products to distribute to patients at the hospital. Dr. Li Xiaoqing, thank you for bringing my parents’ wish to life…literally. The embryo you fertilized eighteen years ago is now a driven student pursuing a career as an REI, so she can make IVF accessible to anyone else who wants their wish granted. She is using this life you gave her to fight for menstrual equity and women's health. In eighteen more years, you’ll know of her as Jenna Xue, MD.

Before I was me, I was a wish—a young immigrant couple’s dream to raise a child in the nation of opportunity their feet had just touched down upon. You made it your mission to make their dream come true, devoting a year to treating the husband’s oligospermia and wife’s uterine tumors. You tried every hormonal therapy and medication in your arsenal, persisting even when my parents' infertility seemed impossible to combat. Twelve months later, you hold the syringe that safely delivers me—a blastocyst at the time—into my mother’s endometrium. At six years old, I step into your office for the first time as a human being—a little girl in a Tinkerbell T-shirt with her black hair in pigtails. My mother told me she was going to see "the doctor," but I never expected you. Before I met you, all the medical workers I ever encountered were old, Caucasian men with blue eyes and white coats. But when I beheld you, sitting at your desk in a turtleneck sweater with a warm smile on your face, I saw that a Chinese woman like me could become a healthcare professional, too. At ten, I watch as my mom screams into her pillow in agony. There is blood on the sheets, but she is in too much pain to stand up and grab a pad from the bathroom. I stood there, helpless and paralyzed at the traumatizing sight of my mother in so much anguish. My father calls you on the phone, and you pick up right away. Less than a day later, you had my mother back home, safe and healthy. At thirteen, I watch as you hold my mom’s hand, explaining that she could finally receive the hysterectomy she waited two decades for. I’ll never forget the beaming smile on my mother’s face at the news that she’d never again have to live with fibroids or dysmenorrhea. I knew right then I wanted to become a reproductive endocrinologist and do what you did: provide care and hope to women in need. I have done everything I can to follow in your footsteps and bring positive change to society. I have filled several notebooks from cover to cover with notes from the 8 classes I took on Coursera outside of school. These classes taught me about the experiences of puberty, pregnancy, and childbirth for women all around the world. As an aspiring fertility specialist and a passionate women’s health advocate, I negotiated with administration staff members and raised funds by running bake sales to push for the installation of Aunt Flow menstrual product dispensers in every female and gender-neutral bathroom in my school building to combat period poverty and menstruation stigma in my community. Because of my efforts and proactivity, everyone with a uterus at Upper Merion Area High School now has access to free pads and tampons. Everybody deserves to have the materials necessary for their health and hygiene available to them, and I’ll never stop fighting until they do. I decided to further the reach of my service by partnering with CHOP, single-handedly packaging over 200 bags of feminine hygiene products to distribute to patients at the hospital. Dr. Li Xiaoqing, thank you for bringing my parents’ wish to life…literally. The embryo you fertilized eighteen years ago is now a driven student pursuing a career as an REI, so she can make IVF accessible to anyone else who wants their wish granted. She is using this life you gave her to fight for menstrual equity and women's health. In eighteen more years, you’ll know of her as Jenna Xue, MD.

Before I was me, I was a wish—a young immigrant couple’s dream to raise a child in the nation of opportunity their feet had just touched down upon. You made it your mission to make their dream come true, devoting a year to treating the husband’s oligospermia and wife’s uterine tumors. You tried every hormonal therapy and medication in your arsenal, persisting even when my parents' infertility seemed impossible to combat. Twelve months later, you hold the syringe that safely delivers me—a blastocyst at the time—into my mother’s endometrium. At six years old, I step into your office for the first time as a human being—a little girl in a Tinkerbell T-shirt with her black hair in pigtails. My mother told me she was going to see "the doctor," but I never expected you. Before I met you, all the medical workers I ever encountered were old, Caucasian men with blue eyes and white coats. But when I beheld you, sitting at your desk in a turtleneck sweater with a warm smile on your face, I saw that a Chinese woman like me could become a healthcare professional, too. At ten, I watch as my mom screams into her pillow in agony. There is blood on the sheets, but she is in too much pain to stand up and grab a pad from the bathroom. I stood there, helpless and paralyzed at the traumatizing sight of my mother in so much anguish. My father calls you on the phone, and you pick up right away. Less than a day later, you had my mother back home, safe and healthy. At thirteen, I watch as you hold my mom’s hand, explaining that she could finally receive the hysterectomy she waited two decades for. I’ll never forget the beaming smile on my mother’s face at the news that she’d never again have to live with fibroids or dysmenorrhea. I knew right then I wanted to become a reproductive endocrinologist and do what you did: provide care and hope to women in need. I have done everything I can to follow in your footsteps and bring positive change to society. I have filled several notebooks from cover to cover with notes from the 8 classes I took on Coursera outside of school. These classes taught me about the experiences of puberty, pregnancy, and childbirth for women all around the world. As an aspiring fertility specialist and a passionate women’s health advocate, I negotiated with administration staff members and raised funds by running bake sales to push for the installation of Aunt Flow menstrual product dispensers in every female and gender-neutral bathroom in my school building to combat period poverty and menstruation stigma in my community. Because of my efforts and proactivity, everyone with a uterus at Upper Merion Area High School now has access to free pads and tampons. Everybody deserves to have the materials necessary for their health and hygiene available to them, and I’ll never stop fighting until they do. I decided to further the reach of my service by partnering with CHOP, single-handedly packaging over 200 bags of feminine hygiene products to distribute to patients at the hospital. Dr. Li Xiaoqing, thank you for bringing my parents’ wish to life…literally. The embryo you fertilized eighteen years ago is now a driven student pursuing a career as an REI, so she can make IVF accessible to anyone else who wants their wish granted. She is using this life you gave her to fight for menstrual equity and women's health. In eighteen more years, you’ll know of her as Jenna Xue, MD.

Before I was me, I was a wish—a young immigrant couple’s dream to raise a child in the nation of opportunity their feet had just touched down upon. You made it your mission to make their dream come true, devoting a year to treating the husband’s oligospermia and wife’s uterine tumors. You tried every hormonal therapy and medication in your arsenal, persisting even when my parents' infertility seemed impossible to combat. Twelve months later, you hold the syringe that safely delivers me—a blastocyst at the time—into my mother’s endometrium. At six years old, I step into your office for the first time as a human being—a little girl in a Tinkerbell T-shirt with her black hair in pigtails. My mother told me she was going to see "the doctor," but I never expected you. Before I met you, all the medical workers I ever encountered were old, Caucasian men with blue eyes and white coats. But when I beheld you, sitting at your desk in a turtleneck sweater with a warm smile on your face, I saw that a Chinese woman like me could become a healthcare professional, too. At ten, I watch as my mom screams into her pillow in agony. There is blood on the sheets, but she is in too much pain to stand up and grab a pad from the bathroom. I stood there, helpless and paralyzed at the traumatizing sight of my mother in so much anguish. My father calls you on the phone, and you pick up right away. Less than a day later, you had my mother back home, safe and healthy. At thirteen, I watch as you hold my mom’s hand, explaining that she could finally receive the hysterectomy she waited two decades for. I’ll never forget the beaming smile on my mother’s face at the news that she’d never again have to live with fibroids or dysmenorrhea. I knew right then I wanted to become a reproductive endocrinologist and do what you did: provide care and hope to women in need. I have done everything I can to follow in your footsteps and bring positive change to society. I have filled several notebooks from cover to cover with notes from the 8 classes I took on Coursera outside of school. These classes taught me about the experiences of puberty, pregnancy, and childbirth for women all around the world. As an aspiring fertility specialist and a passionate women’s health advocate, I negotiated with administration staff members and raised funds by running bake sales to push for the installation of Aunt Flow menstrual product dispensers in every female and gender-neutral bathroom in my school building to combat period poverty and menstruation stigma in my community. Because of my efforts and proactivity, everyone with a uterus at Upper Merion Area High School now has access to free pads and tampons. Everybody deserves to have the materials necessary for their health and hygiene available to them, and I’ll never stop fighting until they do. I decided to further the reach of my service by partnering with CHOP, single-handedly packaging over 200 bags of feminine hygiene products to distribute to patients at the hospital. Dr. Li Xiaoqing, thank you for bringing my parents’ wish to life…literally. The embryo you fertilized eighteen years ago is now a driven student pursuing a career as an REI, so she can make IVF accessible to anyone else who wants their wish granted. She is using this life you gave her to fight for menstrual equity and women's health. In eighteen more years, you’ll know of her as Jenna Xue, MD.

My childhood evenings were spent with my mom, singing along to Chinese pop ballads and watching the captivating dance performances on CCTV’s annual Lunar New Year Gala. Being a huge theater geek, I taught myself to mimic my mother’s favorite actors so I could perform their skits for her if our WiFi ever went out again. It was during those experiences that I gained my deep respect for China’s performing artists. But when I read a news article revealing female infertility to be one of the leading causes of Asian men cheating on their wives or seeking a divorce, I felt disappointment in my culture for the first time. Asians face the greatest health disparities in fertility care, with Indian women having the highest risk for PCOS and endometriosis. However, Asian stigmas surrounding infertility lead too many women with reproductive health issues to not seek medical attention until it’s too late. My mother waited 2 decades to get her desperately-needed hysterectomy done, despite her experiencing dysmenorrhea so painful she couldn’t get out of bed for days at a time every single month of those 20 years. I grew up feeling helpless as I watched Mama suffer and bleed. I wondered how I’d ever be able to help her or other women that couldn’t receive healthcare when I’m in that same disparaged group myself. Come high school, I stopped wondering and started doing, initiating my own research on OB/GYN. I shadowed any reproductive endocrinologist I could find in my area, filled several journals cover to cover with notes I collected from Coursera and Udemy classes about sexual health, and became a CPR-and-first-aid-certified EMT volunteer on the Upper Merion fire department’s ambulance team. Outside of physical health, I also came to understand the importance of mental health and a good surrounding setting to the overall well-being of a person, so I began my journey as a Verified Listener on the international mental health platform 7 Cups of Tea, providing psychological support to people of all different backgrounds and cultures from all over the world, and founded and served as the President of my school district's first environmental protection team---The Upper Merion Planet Protectors. In this effort, I not only helped clean up and spread public awareness on the importance of taking care of our Earth, but also engaged students in a massive plarn-making project that spanned multiple years. In this experience, we used plastic bags to their fullest, creating mattresses to sleep on for homeless people in Philadelphia. Having comfortable living conditions and emotional support are also essential to good health, and I have always approached medicine with a holistic approach like this. After all, as my mom always told me in Mandarin, "If you're going to do something, do it so that you will leave behind a feeling of satisfaction and gratitude in the people you do it for." And this is the motto that I will live my whole life and navigate my fertility care journey by, no matter what happens along the way. My roots and the home in which I came from drives me to succeed in the medical field no matter what the hardships along the way happen to be, because people like my mother deserve to be treated with respect and to be cared for when they seek healthcare. Receiving this scholarship would help me on my path of becoming a reproductive endocrinologist who'll bring healthcare to women in need, so mothers can be healthy and share more nights with their daughters, and their daughters can make happy memories in the homes whence they came.

My childhood evenings were spent with my mom, singing along to Chinese pop ballads and watching the captivating dance performances on CCTV’s annual Lunar New Year Gala. Being a huge theater geek, I taught myself to mimic my mother’s favorite actors so I could perform their skits for her if our WiFi ever went out again. It was during those experiences that I gained my deep respect for China’s performing artists. But when I read a news article revealing female infertility to be one of the leading causes of Asian men cheating on their wives or seeking a divorce, I felt disappointment in my culture for the first time. Asians face the greatest health disparities in fertility care, with Indian women having the highest risk for PCOS and endometriosis. However, Asian stigmas surrounding infertility lead too many women with reproductive health issues to not seek medical attention until it’s too late. My mother waited 2 decades to get her desperately-needed hysterectomy done, despite her experiencing dysmenorrhea so painful she couldn’t get out of bed for days at a time every single month of those 20 years. I grew up feeling helpless as I watched Mama suffer and bleed. I wondered how I’d ever be able to help her or other women that couldn’t receive healthcare when I’m in that same disparaged group myself. Come high school, I stopped wondering and started doing, initiating my own research on OB/GYN. I shadowed any reproductive endocrinologist I could find in my area, filled several journals cover to cover with notes I collected from Coursera and Udemy classes about sexual health, and became a CPR-and-first-aid-certified EMT volunteer on the Upper Merion fire department’s ambulance team. Outside of physical health, I also came to understand the importance of mental health and a good surrounding setting to the overall well-being of a person, so I began my journey as a Verified Listener on the international mental health platform 7 Cups of Tea, providing psychological support to people of all different backgrounds and cultures from all over the world, and founded and served as the President of my school district's first environmental protection team---The Upper Merion Planet Protectors. In this effort, I not only helped clean up and spread public awareness on the importance of taking care of our Earth, but also engaged students in a massive plarn-making project that spanned multiple years. In this experience, we used plastic bags to their fullest, creating mattresses to sleep on for homeless people in Philadelphia. Having comfortable living conditions and emotional support are also essential to good health, and I have always approached medicine with a holistic approach like this. After all, as my mom always told me in Mandarin, "If you're going to do something, do it so that you will leave behind a feeling of satisfaction and gratitude in the people you do it for." And this is the motto that I will live my whole life and navigate my fertility care journey by, no matter what happens along the way. My roots and the home in which I came from drives me to succeed in the medical field no matter what the hardships along the way happen to be, because people like my mother deserve to be treated with respect and to be cared for when they seek healthcare. Receiving this scholarship would help me on my path of becoming a reproductive endocrinologist who'll bring healthcare to women in need, so mothers can be healthy and share more nights with their daughters, and their daughters can make happy memories in the homes whence they came.

“Why not?” I asked, staring down my arm with my sleeve already pulled back, ready to receive the pinch of a needle and be of service to the world. “You don’t meet the minimum height requirement to donate your blood, and could go into hypovolemic shock if we drew even a pint from you.” the nurse answered apologetically, gesturing to my form. “Thanks for trying, but you’re just too small.” "Too small?" I thought, devastated. All around me, my peers were already lying on gurneys, tubes pumping beautiful, red fluid from their veins that would provide lifesaving transfusions for anemic patients. While everybody else had been squeamish at the notion of getting poked with a 17-gauge, I’d been ecstatically looking forward to the Red Cross blood drive for weeks, reading the manuals from cover to cover and making sure I’d drank 16 ounces of water before leaving the house that morning. Despite my best efforts, my self-hatred intruded and whispered in my ear: “You’re useless. You’re not enough. You’re so pathetically tiny that three people out there are gonna die now because of you.” All my life, my short stature had earned me underestimation from my peers. Although I couldn't reach the math problems at the top of the whiteboard without a step-stool, I never allowed my height to stand between me and my goals. It never occurred to me before that my shortness could hinder me from helping a fellow human being in need, and the thought crushed me. As if my day wasn’t ruined enough, my best friend informed me that a classmate of ours had just been hospitalized from a suicide attempt. This sudden, heartbreaking news opened my eyes to the staggering extent to which the struggles faced by high schoolers could lead them to develop severe mental ailments. From academic burnout to the pressure to either conform or be vulnerable to alienation, teenagers carry an overwhelming load that can be detrimental over prolonged periods of time. In 2021, 20% of people ages 15–24 reported experiencing suicidal ideation. 9% made an attempt on their lives. Despite this, self-caring and taking time to rejuvenate are often downplayed and treated as excuses for laziness or weakness. Society conditions us to view health as solely physical, but the neglect of psychological welfare can also engender disaster for one’s well-being. As an aspiring medical professional, this phenomenon motivated me to approach healthcare as a holistic entity that could only be achieved by caring for both body and mind. I couldn’t donate my blood, but I could give my time. In sophomore year, I started my journey volunteering as a Verified Teen Listener on the mental health platform 7 Cups of Tea, providing emotional support to teens around the world. I also began my intensive study of meditation, conducting research on the Headspace website until I was seeing orange smiley faces in my sleep. Using my findings, I founded the Viking Nation Meditation Station at my school, a group that provided a safe space for students to unwind with guided mindfulness exercises. Making time to relax in a calming environment proved immensely beneficial to both myself and others going through adversities, skyrocketing my self-confidence. Leading this initiative taught me that anyone can be a hero and improve others’ lives by making little, positive changes with big, empowering effects. Saving a life doesn’t necessarily mean repairing a diseased or injured body—it can be bettering the mental health of your community, too. I’m not too small. 4 feet and 11 inches is all the height I need to make a difference in the world.

“Why not?” I asked, staring down my arm with my sleeve already pulled back, ready to receive the pinch of a needle and be of service to the world. “You don’t meet the minimum height requirement to donate your blood, and could go into hypovolemic shock if we drew even a pint from you.” the nurse answered apologetically, gesturing to my form. “Thanks for trying, but you’re just too small.” Too small? I thought, devastated. All around me, my peers were already lying on gurneys, tubes pumping beautiful, red fluid from their veins that would provide lifesaving transfusions for anemic patients. While everybody else had been squeamish at the notion of getting poked with a 17-gauge, I’d been ecstatically looking forward to the Red Cross blood drive for weeks, reading the manuals from cover to cover and making sure I’d drank 16 ounces of water before leaving the house that morning. Despite my best efforts, my self-hatred intruded and whispered in my ear: “You’re useless. You’re not enough. You’re so pathetically tiny that three people out there are gonna die now because of you.” All my life, my short stature had earned me underestimation from my peers. Although I couldn't reach the math problems at the top of the whiteboard without a stepstool, I never allowed my height to stand between me and my goals. It never occurred to me before that my shortness could hinder me from helping a fellow human being in need, and the thought crushed me. As if my day wasn’t ruined enough, my best friend informed me that a classmate of ours had just been hospitalized from a suicide attempt. This sudden, heartbreaking news opened my eyes to the staggering extent to which the struggles faced by high schoolers could lead them to develop severe mental ailments. From academic burnout to the pressure to either conform or be vulnerable to alienation, teenagers carry an overwhelming load that can be detrimental over prolonged periods of time. In 2021, 20% of people ages 15–24 reported experiencing suicidal ideation. 9% made an attempt on their lives. Despite this, self-caring and taking time to rejuvenate are often downplayed and treated as excuses for laziness or weakness. Society conditions us to view health as solely physical, but the neglect of psychological welfare can also engender disaster for one’s well-being. As an aspiring medical professional, this phenomenon motivated me to approach healthcare as a holistic entity that could only be achieved by caring for both body and mind. I couldn’t donate my blood, but I could give my time. In sophomore year, I started my journey volunteering as a Verified Teen Listener on the mental health platform 7 Cups of Tea, providing emotional support to teens around the world. I also began my intensive study of meditation, conducting research on the Headspace website until I was seeing orange smiley faces in my sleep. Using my findings, I founded the Viking Nation Meditation Station at my school, a group that provided a safe space for students to unwind with guided mindfulness exercises. Making time to relax in a calming environment proved immensely beneficial to both myself and others going through adversities, skyrocketing my self-confidence. Leading this initiative taught me that anyone can be a hero and improve others’ lives by making little, positive changes with big, empowering effects. Saving a life doesn’t necessarily mean repairing a diseased or injured body—it can be bettering the mental health of your community, too. I’m not too small. 4 feet and 11 inches is all the height I need to make a difference in the world.

My childhood evenings were spent with my mom, singing along to Chinese pop ballads and watching the captivating dance performances on CCTV’s annual Lunar New Year Gala. Being a huge theater geek, I taught myself to mimic my mother’s favorite actors so I could perform their skits for her if our WiFi ever went out again. It was during those experiences that I gained my deep respect for China’s performing artists. But when I read a news article revealing female infertility to be one of the leading causes of Asian men cheating on their wives or seeking a divorce, I felt disappointment in my culture for the first time. Asians face the greatest health disparities in fertility care, with Indian women having the highest risk for PCOS and endometriosis. However, Asian stigmas surrounding infertility lead too many women with reproductive health issues to not seek medical attention until it’s too late. My mother waited 2 decades to get her desperately-needed hysterectomy done, despite her experiencing dysmenorrhea so painful she couldn’t get out of bed for days at a time every single month of those 20 years. I grew up feeling helpless as I watched Mama suffer and bleed. I wondered how I’d ever be able to help her or other women that couldn’t receive healthcare when I’m in that same disparaged group myself. Come high school, I stopped wondering and started doing, initiating my own research on OB/GYN. I shadowed any reproductive endocrinologist I could find in my area, filled several journals cover to cover with notes I collected from Coursera and Udemy classes about sexual health, and became a CPR-and-first-aid-certified EMT volunteer on the Upper Merion fire department’s ambulance team. Outside of physical health, I also came to understand the importance of mental health and a good surrounding setting to the overall well-being of a person, so I began my journey as a Verified Listener on the international mental health platform 7 Cups of Tea, providing psychological support to people of all different backgrounds and cultures from all over the world, and founded and served as the President of my school district's first environmental protection team---The Upper Merion Planet Protectors. In this effort, I not only helped clean up and spread public awareness on the importance of taking care of our Earth, but also engaged students in a massive plarn-making project that spanned multiple years. In this experience, we used plastic bags to their fullest, creating mattresses to sleep on for homeless people in Philadelphia. Having comfortable living conditions and emotional support are also essential to good health, and I have always approached medicine with a holistic approach like this. After all, as my mom always told me in Mandarin, "If you're going to do something, do it so that you will leave behind a feeling of satisfaction and gratitude in the people you do it for." And this is the motto that I will live my whole life and navigate my fertility care journey by, no matter what happens along the way. My roots and the home in which I came from drives me to succeed in the medical field no matter what the hardships along the way happen to be, because people like my mother deserve to be treated with respect and to be cared for when they seek healthcare. Receiving this scholarship would help me on my path of becoming an REI physician assistant that’ll bring healthcare to women in need, so mothers can be healthy and share more nights with their daughters, and their daughters can make happy memories in the homes whence they came.

I’m alive today because of a reproductive endocrinologist. My parents came to America from the then-impoverished Fujian shores with a pocketful of debt and uncertainty. My father’s gambling addiction and my mother’s lack of post-secondary education only made their financial situation worse. However, two years after settling down, Mama began working double shifts at a local restaurant and Baba quit gambling for good. They did this because, in all of their misfortune, they wanted nothing more than to have a child and be the best parents they could for that child. My parents tried to conceive for years, with no avail. They tried everything from hormonal therapy to IVF, but my mom’s uterine fibroids and my dad’s oligozoospermia rendered all efforts extremely difficult. Distraught, broke, and infertile, they placed all of their remaining hope in Zhang Jin, who’d pushed past boundaries to open his own REI practice in Manhattan. He was supposedly one of the best fertility doctors in the East Coast. He lived up to his reputation. With vigorous effort on Dr. Jin’s and my parents’ parts, Mama finally became pregnant in January 2006. She gave birth on October 21st that year. Knowing how much time, money, and energy my parents put into creating and raising me into the person I am today, I’ve always done everything I could to make every hardship they have overcome worth it. I became your traditionally “well-rounded” kid, getting straight A’s and participating in every activity I was interested in to make myself and my parents proud, as well as explore my identity. It wasn’t until 10th grade, when I founded and led my school district’s first environmental protection team—Upper Merion Planet Protectors—that I felt self-worth and accomplishment in an activity I dedicated my time to, because it was the first time that I’d initiated my own service group versus just joining a pre-existing one. And after coming home from all of the plarn-making sessions and trash pick-ups I organized for Planet Protectors, I’d sit down with my laptop, take online courses on reproductive health, and watch YouTube videos on sex-ed—secret passions I never shared with others but maintained a constant, undying love for. Mama and Baba suffered for years to give me life. I don’t think I fully understood or appreciated the scope of their perseverance and sacrifices until high school. It was also then that I realized using this life they gifted me to help couples struggling like they once were to be able to have their own children would be one of the most rewarding things I could do with my existence. I was already fascinated with reproduction and the intricate world of biology and medicine, so I felt that “This is it!” feeling the moment I began my intensive research on fertility care and reproductive endocrinology. It’s the perfect field that combines my love for science and my passion for bringing joy and service to my community. This path will be meaningful, but full of obstacles and adversity. But if there’s anything that my mom and dad have taught me, it’s that life is a gift. No matter how hard it gets, so long as you keep going, life will be worth it. The lifelong journey of learning will be worth it. Becoming an REI and bringing the children who’ll become the minds and heroes of the future to life will be worth overcoming any rejection, failure, or challenge. I’ll make the world a better, healthier place, one baby at a time. I’m alive today because of a reproductive endocrinologist, and I’ll create life tomorrow as a reproductive endocrinologist.

To me, empowerment is giving someone the opportunity to engage in experiences that uplift them and expand their positive impact on the world, while teaching them the important life skill of resilience. What is resilience? When instructed to take a picture expressing “resilience” for a photography class project, I submitted a closeup of the Catharanthus roseus sprouting from a sidewalk crack in front of my neighbor’s house. It fascinated me, how the periwinkle managed to bloom into such a beautiful flower with only a concrete crevice to grow from. Life always finds a way—that’s what captivates me about biology. This plant absorbed all the sunlight, water, and carbon dioxide available in its environment, building itself into a gorgeous blossom like any other of its species by taking advantage of the resources it had. Like Catharanthus roseus, I utilize everything I have to make a difference. I founded Upper Merion’s first environmental protection team: Planet Protectors. During the numerous community cleanups I organized for Planet Protectors in my three years as president, I noticed much of the trash we picked up were plastic bottles that could’ve easily been used to create life instead of polluting it. So, I led club members in upcycling the bottles into vertical gardens, in which we cultivated seedlings native to Pennsylvania, like Black-Eyed Susans. However, I would not have been able to do this service for the world if someone had not empowered me. I am grateful to go to a school that provides students with the opportunity to engage in service, start their own initiatives, and form clubs dedicated to a cause that matters to them. It is thanks to Dr. Michael Werner, an honors biology teacher at Upper Merion High School and graduate of the University of Pennsylvania, that I received the faculty support necessary to get my plans for Planet Protectors off the ground. Not only did Dr. Werner sponsor my club—he provided me with connections with local workers to expand the impact of our work. With me at the helm of our leadership committee, the Upper Merion Planet Protectors have planted two rain gardens in our township, properly disposed of hundreds of pounds of litter in our community, and reduced our school’s waste by organizing an annual event for students to donate their plastic grocery bags to us to be stitched into mats for homeless people rather than turning them over to trash-collection companies that would just transport the perfectly usable materials to landfills. We’ve produced countless plarn balls with thousands of bags for Philadelphia's Sleeping Mat Project chapter. Through our kind deeds, the Planet Protectors are empowering our community and uplifting the future of Upper Merion. Every tree we plant is one more tree that will improve soil and air quality for future generations. Every piece of trash we pick up is one less piece of garbage that our children will need to worry about when they are working hard towards their own goals. I’m an innovator and STEMinist at heart. The experiences I have gained from organizing and spearheading environmentalist service activities at school and throughout Upper Merion Township via the Planet Protectors empower me to pursue my goals and to devote my life to providing future generations with a beautiful world to live in. My proactiveness, combined with support from all the wonderful, kindhearted people in my life, shape me into an empowered, knowledgeable human being who will fight for gender equality and sustainability in the healthcare system as a future medical school student. Like the periwinkle, I’m resilient. And Planet Protectors is the crack from which I grow.

I’m alive today because of a reproductive endocrinologist, my mom, and my dad. My parents came to America from the then-impoverished Fujian shores with a pocketful of debt and uncertainty. My father’s gambling addiction and my mother’s lack of post-secondary education only made their financial situation worse. However, two years after settling down, Mama began working double shifts at a local restaurant and Baba quit gambling for good. They did this because, in all of their misfortune, they wanted nothing more than to have a child and be the best parents they could for that child. My parents tried to conceive for years, with no avail. They tried everything from hormonal therapy to IVF, but my mom’s uterine fibroids and my dad’s oligozoospermia rendered all efforts extremely difficult. Distraught, broke, and infertile, they placed all of their remaining hope in Zhang Jin, who’d pushed past boundaries to open his own REI practice in Manhattan. He was supposedly one of the best fertility doctors on the East Coast. He lived up to his reputation. With vigorous effort on Dr. Jin’s and my parents’ parts, Mama finally became pregnant in January 2006. She gave birth on October 21st later that year. Mama and Baba suffered for years to give me life. I don’t think I fully understood or appreciated the scope of their perseverance and sacrifices until high school. It was also then that I realized using this life they gifted me to help couples struggling like they once were to be able to have their own children would be one of the most rewarding things I could do with my existence. I was already fascinated with reproduction and the intricate world of biology and medicine, so I felt that “This is it!” feeling the moment I began my intensive research on fertility care and reproductive endocrinology. It’s the perfect field that combines my love for science and my passion for bringing joy and service to my community. This path will be meaningful, but full of adversity, late-night burnout, mental-breakdown-level stress, studying my butt off for the MCAT, overwhelmingly competitive medical school admissions, rewriting residency applications over and over, and depressive ruts after fertility treatments fail to help a discouraged patient. There are going to be days where I’ll feel so hopeless and exhausted, I’ll want to give up completely. But if there’s anything that my mom and dad have taught me, it’s that life is a gift. No matter how hard it gets, so long as you keep going, it’ll be worth it. The lifelong journey of learning will be worth it. Becoming an REI and bringing the children who’ll become the minds and heroes of the future to life will be worth overcoming any rejection, failure, or challenge. I’ll make the world a better, healthier place, one baby at a time. Zhang Jin is the reason why I can live, breathe, and live a happy life today, and his impact on my and so many others' lives inspires me to pursue a career in medicine. My parents persevered through the seemingly endless challenges that they were faced with after their immigration to craft a life for themselves that they were proud of, raising a daughter who values gratitude and life so that she may always remember and appreciate the efforts of humans to make the world a better place. I’m alive today because of a reproductive endocrinologist, my mom, and my dad, and I’ll create life tomorrow as a reproductive endocrinologist, serving people like my mother and father and making the world a better place, one baby at a time.

I’m alive today because of a reproductive endocrinologist, my mom, and my dad. My parents came to America from the then-impoverished Fujian shores with a pocketful of debt and uncertainty. My father’s gambling addiction and my mother’s lack of post-secondary education only made their financial situation worse. However, two years after settling down, Mama began working double shifts at a local restaurant and Baba quit gambling for good. They did this because, in all of their misfortune, they wanted nothing more than to have a child and be the best parents they could for that child. My parents tried to conceive for years, with no avail. They tried everything from hormonal therapy to IVF, but my mom’s uterine fibroids and my dad’s oligozoospermia rendered all efforts extremely difficult. Distraught, broke, and infertile, they placed all of their remaining hope in Zhang Jin, who’d pushed past boundaries to open his own REI practice in Manhattan. He was supposedly one of the best fertility doctors on the East Coast. He lived up to his reputation. With vigorous effort on Dr. Jin’s and my parents’ parts, Mama finally became pregnant in January 2006. She gave birth on October 21st later that year. Mama and Baba suffered for years to give me life. I don’t think I fully understood or appreciated the scope of their perseverance and sacrifices until high school. It was also then that I realized using this life they gifted me to help couples struggling like they once were to be able to have their own children would be one of the most rewarding things I could do with my existence. I was already fascinated with reproduction and the intricate world of biology and medicine, so I felt that “This is it!” feeling the moment I began my intensive research on fertility care and reproductive endocrinology. It’s the perfect field that combines my love for science and my passion for bringing joy and service to my community. This path will be meaningful, but full of adversity, late-night burnout, mental-breakdown-level stress, studying my butt off for the MCAT, overwhelmingly competitive medical school admissions, rewriting residency applications over and over, and depressive ruts after fertility treatments fail to help a discouraged patient. There are going to be days where I’ll feel so hopeless and exhausted, I’ll want to give up completely. But if there’s anything that my mom and dad have taught me, it’s that life is a gift. No matter how hard it gets, so long as you keep going, it’ll be worth it. The lifelong journey of learning will be worth it. Becoming an REI and bringing the children who’ll become the minds and heroes of the future to life will be worth overcoming any rejection, failure, or challenge. I’ll make the world a better, healthier place, one baby at a time. Zhang Jin is the reason why I can live, breathe, and live a happy life today, and his impact on my and so many others' lives inspires me to pursue a career in medicine. My parents persevered through the seemingly endless challenges that they were faced with after their immigration to craft a life for themselves that they were proud of, raising a daughter who values gratitude and life so that she may always remember and appreciate the efforts of humans to make the world a better place. I’m alive today because of a reproductive endocrinologist, my mom, and my dad, and I’ll create life tomorrow as a reproductive endocrinologist, serving people like my mother and father and making the world a better place, one baby at a time.

“Why not?” I asked, staring down my arm with my sleeve already pulled back, ready to receive the pinch of a needle and be of service to the world. “You don’t meet the minimum height requirement to donate your blood, and could go into hypovolemic shock if we drew even a pint from you.” the nurse answered apologetically, gesturing to my form. “Thanks for trying, sweetheart, but you’re just too small.” Too small? I thought, devastated. All around me, my peers were already lying on gurneys, tubes pumping beautiful, red fluid from their veins that would provide lifesaving transfusions for anemic patients. While everybody else had been squeamish at the notion of getting poked with a 17-gauge, I’d been ecstatically looking forward to the Red Cross blood drive for weeks, reading the manuals on how to prepare from cover to cover and making sure I’d drank 16 ounces of water before I leaving the house that morning. Despite my best efforts, my self-hatred intruded and whispered in my ear: “You’re useless. You’re not enough. You’re so pathetically tiny that three people out there are gonna die now because of you.” All my life, my short stature had earned me underestimation from my peers who were much taller than me, but it had never occurred to me before that my shortness could hinder me from helping a fellow human being in need, and the thought crushed me. As if my day wasn’t ruined enough, my best friend informed me that a classmate of ours had just been hospitalized from a suicide attempt. This sudden, heartbreaking news opened my eyes to the staggering extent to which the struggles faced by high schoolers could lead them to develop mental ailments so severe they would inflict harm on themselves. From academic burnout to the pressure to either conform or be vulnerable to alienation, teenagers carry an overwhelming load that can be detrimental over prolonged periods of time. In 2021, 20% of people ages 15–24 reported experiencing suicidal ideation, and 9% made an attempt on their lives. In spite of this, self-caring and taking time off to rejuvenate mental tolerance are often downplayed and treated as an excuse masking laziness or weakness. Society conditions us to view health as solely physical, but the neglect of psychological welfare can also engender disaster for one’s well-being. As an aspiring medical professional, this phenomenon motivated me to approach healthcare as a holistic entity that could only be achieved by caring for both body and mind. I couldn’t donate my blood, but I could give my time. In sophomore year, I started my journey volunteering as a Verified Teen Listener on the mental health platform 7 Cups of Tea, providing emotional support to teens around the world. I also began my intensive study of meditation, conducting research on the Headspace website until I was seeing orange smiley faces in my sleep. Using my findings, I founded the Viking Nation Meditation Station at my school, a group that provided a safe space for students to unwind with guided mindfulness exercises. Making time to relax in a calming environment proved immensely beneficial to both myself and others going through adversities, skyrocketing my self-confidence. Leading this initiative taught me that anyone can be a hero and improve others’ lives by making little, positive changes with big, empowering effects. Saving a life doesn’t necessarily mean repairing a diseased or injured body—it can be bettering the mental health of your community, too. I’m not too small. 4 feet and 11 inches is all the height I need to make a difference in the world.

My childhood evenings were spent with my mom, singing along to Chinese pop ballads and watching the captivating dance performances on CCTV’s annual Lunar New Year Gala. Being a huge theater geek, I taught myself to mimic my mother’s favorite actors so I could perform their skits for her if our WiFi ever went out again. It was during those experiences that I gained my deep respect for China’s performing artists. But when I read a news article revealing female infertility to be one of the leading causes of Asian men cheating on their wives or seeking a divorce, I felt disappointment in my culture for the first time. Asians face the greatest health disparities in fertility care, with Indian women having the highest risk for PCOS and endometriosis. However, Asian stigmas surrounding infertility lead too many women with reproductive health issues to not seek medical attention until it’s too late. My mother waited 2 decades to get her desperately-needed hysterectomy done, despite her experiencing dysmenorrhea so painful she couldn’t get out of bed for days at a time every single month of those 20 years. I grew up feeling helpless as I watched Mama suffer and bleed. I wondered how I’d ever be able to help her or other women that couldn’t receive healthcare when I’m in that same disparaged group myself. Come high school, I stopped wondering and started doing, initiating my own research on OB/GYN. I shadowed any reproductive endocrinologist I could find in my area, filled several journals cover to cover with notes I collected from Coursera and Udemy classes about sexual health, and became a CPR-and-first-aid-certified EMT volunteer on the Upper Merion fire department’s ambulance team. Outside of physical health, I also came to understand the importance of mental health and a good surrounding setting to the overall well-being of a person, so I began my journey as a Verified Listener on the international mental health platform 7 Cups of Tea, providing psychological support to people of all different backgrounds and cultures from all over the world, and founded and served as the President of my school district's first environmental protection team---The Upper Merion Planet Protectors. In this effort, I not only helped clean up and spread public awareness on the importance of taking care of our Earth, but also engaged students in a massive plarn-making project that spanned multiple years. In this experience, we used plastic bags to their fullest, creating mattresses to sleep on for homeless people in Philadelphia. Having comfortable living conditions and emotional support are also essential to good health, and I have always approached medicine with a holistic approach like this. After all, as my mom always told me in Mandarin, "If you're going to do something, do it so that you will leave behind a feeling of satisfaction and gratitude in the people you do it for." And this is the motto that I will live my whole life and navigate my fertility care journey by, no matter what happens along the way. My roots and the home in which I came from drives me to succeed in the medical field no matter what the hardships along the way happen to be, because people like my mother deserve to be treated with respect and to be cared for when they seek healthcare. Receiving this scholarship would help me on my path of becoming an REI physician assistant that’ll bring healthcare to women in need, so mothers can be healthy and share more nights with their daughters, and their daughters can make happy memories in the homes whence they came.

Dear Love, I used to hate you. I hated you for lifting people’s expectations up into the freeing, eternal heavens, then giggling playfully as you so callously dropped them from that great height and stood by as their hearts plummeted into the dark seas below. I hated how you watched through the cracks of doors as lovers kissed nights away, but fled the scene of the crime the second dreaded sound of blows landing commenced. I hated the way you mercilessly broke hearts, but victimized yourself the second anyone dared question your intentions. But most of all, I hated the way you manipulated girls into thinking that without you, they were nothing. You made me think that without you, I was nothing. So, I made it my goal to make it through life without ever falling in love with a man so I could rub it in your smug face that I'd achieved the one thing you said I couldn’t do. I entrenched myself in academics and burned myself out so that I would become a career woman, not the submissive housewife you wanted me to be. I thought that by letting you in, I'd become the stereotype that all sexist men thought me to be: nothing. It was during this time of my time of my life when Taylor Swift's Eras Tour was spreading the power of music and exciting fans all around the world. I couldn't afford to attend a concert, but was still a huge fan of her music and opted to watch her online. As I binged YouTube videos of the tour, I noticed something. In "All Too Well (10-minute Version)," Swift poetically laments the loss of a relationship she had believed would be The One. In "Love Story," she rejoices the power of young love. In "Bejeweled," she embraces self-confidence, a striking difference from her somber reminiscing in "August." In "Lover," she celebrates the magical feeling of romance, while proudly shrugging off the opinions of her haters in "Shake It Off." Taylor Swift is one of the most successful women to ever live, inspiring girls all over the globe, and she allowed herself to love even when it hurt. Loving had left its scars on her, but she enjoyed her life and loved herself regardless. She was strong, with or without a man. If she could love and make a name for herself at the same time, why couldn't I? Love, for so long, I believed that I'd only matter if I defied societal norms—if I defied you—and dedicated myself to nothing but self-improvement and hard work. But Love, I know now. I know I’m not a mindless work machine—I’m a person with a life to live. Letting myself reach for you didn’t mean submitting to a life of domesticism. I can be independent and have you at the same time, just like Taylor. So, I allowed myself to love. It felt so strange, because I was told that romance was only for beautiful girls with hourglass waists. It felt so strange, because obedient Asian girls were supposed to devote themselves entirely to their studies, not giving a thought to you while still in school. It felt so strange, but I let your tsunami of cliche phrases and embarrassing feelings swallow me whole. Truth be told, I’m still learning to swim in your currents. Your waters are so unpredictable, I sometimes wonder why I decided to dive in in the first place and consider paddling back to shore. But Love, I'm so happy I let you in. Dear Love, I love you. Love, Jenna Xue

There is not a Stranger Things fan who does not recognize Eleven for her value. She is by far the most powerful person in the Stranger Things universe, single-handedly banishing One to the Upside Down as a child, closing the portal to the underworld, and restarting Max's heart after Vecna killed her. I would want Eleven by my side in the face of any adversity, but not because of her seemingly invincible power. Jane's strength and worth come not from her telekinetic might, but her ceaselessly courageous heart and ability to maintain a sense of integrity despite every traumatizing, painful experience she has endured. Martin Brenner's abuses of her autonomy and inhumane experiments performed on her have left scars on Eleven's body and soul, but she refuses to let those horrific events damage her humanity. Fearlessly escaping the scientists' clutches, valiantly standing up for her friends, and returning to the treacherous world of the Upside Down despite what it had done to her to protect humanity, viewers can clearly understand that Eleven's greatest power is not her telepathy, but her bravery and selflessness. If I were to ever face a threat, supernatural or real, having someone as inspiring and good as Jane with me would motivate me to perform at my best and make the right decisions, even if they are difficult and scary. You can't have an adventure without a kick-butt heroine who is both relatable and driven, and Max Mayfield certainly fits the role. She has faced obstacles from within her family as a result of a damaged relationship with her stepbrother Billy and the underworld alike but has powered through, regardless, utilizing whatever abilities she has to combat the threats thrown her way. While she does not have powers, Max is a fighter who does not let anyone control her, making tough decisions and putting herself in harm's way to help her friends. The scene in Season 4 where she desperately runs to escape Vecna's prison while "Running Up That Hill" plays triumphantly in the background is a beautiful illustration of Max's character. She's far from powerless and strives towards victory with whatever she has in her. Max is a person who loves and cares about others, even those who have wronged her, and bravely makes sacrifices if she knows that they are for the greater good. Whether it's in a video game or a showdown against the villain, Max Mayfield is reliable, holds her own, and refuses to back down no matter the cost, making her the perfect person to have by your side during any difficult journey. No superhero team is complete without a person who is the brains behind the operation, and I can think of no character more observant, helpful, and grounded than Nancy Wheeler. A leader at heart with a keen eye for the crucial details that make or break a plot against the enemy, Nancy is a responsible, goal-driven person who does the research that allows the other characters to take down the villains. She was the first person who noticed the demogorgons' presence in Hawkins, using the evidence she collected from the scene of Beth's disappearance and Jonathan's photography technology to uncover the first clues behind Will's vanishing in Season 1. Later on, she devises a plan and takes Robin to speak to Victor Creel, which gives the gang crucial information about the nature of Vecna's attacks and how to protect Max. Nancy's intelligence, wit, and instincts are her strength, and having her on my side during a fight against a powerful antagonist would be a valuable and advantageous scenario.

Of all things, my biggest pet peeve in high school was finding Cream O’Land chocolate milk cartons…everywhere. They were ubiquitous on campus, being littered and found everywhere from the hallways to the fields of the school. Seeing this, I often laughed with my friends at how lazy others were for tossing their garbage around and criticized them for their irresponsibility. But something I’ve learned is that it’s never enough or worth one’s time to point fingers. If change is desired, you must be the one to roll up your sleeves and make a difference, instead of being a bystander, allowing the negativity you claim you oppose to perpetuate. Environmental science and sustainability have always been a great interests of mine. Growing up, I was the sentimental kid who would write gushy poems about nature, watch Planet Earth, and research the names of flowers for fun. Being fortunate enough to live near the Valley Forge National Park, I frequently hiked Mount Joy and Mount Misery, feeling completely at home on the quiet, serene dirt trails free of garbage and the noisy bustle of suburban life. Ecology is the study of how organisms and environmental factors in biological systems interact. As an aspiring biology major who hopes to one day become a medical professional, I have always been intrigued by the way living things adapt based on changes in the environment. In today's world, pollution is everywhere because of our carelessness and overconsumption of resources. Carcinogens flow in our water sources, microplastics wind up in our food, and the air in cities is thick with the stench of gasoline. How long will it be until we humans, who believe ourselves to be invincible, will not be able to adapt to the warming climate and filthy world that we have allowed to become a reality? But before I can become a good doctor, I must be a good person. With my proactive, service-driven spirit and creative ideas, I decided that I was going to take action to improve the environmental health of my school, educate others about sustainability and environmental topics, and do good work for the world in whatever sphere of influence I was able. Healthcare starts with caring for the Earth. Thus, I founded my school district’s first environmental preservation team—Upper Merion Planet Protectors. In my years serving as President, we’ve properly disposed of hundreds of pounds of litter in our community and reduced waste in our school by organizing an annual event for students to donate their plastic grocery bags to us to be stitched into mats for homeless people, rather than turning them over to trash-collection companies that would just transport the perfectly usable materials to landfills. We’ve produced countless plarn balls with thousands of bags for the Sleeping Mat Project initiative. Empowered to expand our cause and service further into the King of Prussia community, UMPP has also partnered with the Shade Tree Commission and McKegg Nature Center to plant trees in the Sunny Hill Community Garden and start a rain garden to promote sustainability awareness and environmental advocacy the township. By creating PSAs in fun, engaging, and digestible formats to broadcast on our school's announcements, utilizing the publicity of our Instagram account, and hosting school-wide trivia games, we work to spread knowledge on environmental conservation to as many members of the Upper Merion community as possible. No matter what I do, there’ll always be pollution and people wasting resources. But leading the Planet Protectors works to expand my circle of influence and increase the impact of my service, slowly but surely promoting a more sustainable, milk-carton-litter-free world.

It would be the greatest gift to me if everyone in the world could read "You've Reached Sam" by Dustin Thao, which is my favorite book that changed my viewpoints on life for the better. Unfortunately, it is too often that we do not appreciate or understand the beauty and brevity of life until someone we love dies. Losing a person that we care about can be a tremendously scarring experience for a person, and "You've Reached Sam" explores that theme intimately by following the story of Julie, a teenage girl who falls into depression after losing her best friend and partner, Sam. However, when she discovers that she can speak to Sam's spirit through the phone, she starts ceaselessly talking to him. Too scared to lose him again, she begins to devote her entire life to talking to Sam. Sam begins to realize that her obsession with him is becoming unhealthy and damaging, and throughout the story, gently helps her accept the fact that he died and let him go while still maintaining her love for him. The meaningful symbolism present in "You've Reached Sam" is the reason why I admire Dustin Thao's work so much. Julie's inability to receive text messages and calls from other people after she began reconnecting with Sam represents how deeply obsessed people can become when mourning the loss of a loved one, so much so that they forget about and neglect all of the kind people in their lives who are by their side and want to support them through the hard times. As Julie begins to hang out with her other friends once more, open up to others about her ability to speak with Sam's spirit, and participate in fun activities she enjoys again, her connection with Sam begins to break because the author is trying to demonstrate that she is slowly but surely becoming ready to move on. Julie's character development is slow and deliberate, and this book really brings tears to readers' eyes as they watch her overcome the loss of her boyfriend at her own pace and eventually work up the courage to let him go. This book provides anyone who has been affected by the loss of a loved one hope that things will get better. No matter how painful the feelings are right now, never give up or lose sight of the people that you still have.

My favorite movie on Netflix is "Nimona" because of its surprising complexity, touching storyline, and how it presents both the sad and hopeful realities of society in a fun, engaging way that kids and adults can understand. Watching this movie will allow you to understand the true impact of othering on the mental health of alienated people and how we can open our minds and hearts to let in people who may be different than us but deserve love and appreciation all the same. "Nimona" follows the story of a teenage shape-shifter living in a society that greatly fears monsters. Brainwashed by a government that preaches that all monsters deserve to be slaughtered, an elite force of knights patrol the kingdom's streets to keep citizens safe from the perceived threat of inhuman beings. Centuries ago, Nimona was betrayed by the only friend she'd ever had, a human girl named Gloreth, who went down in history as a hero for her so-called "courageous" actions taken against Nimona. However, Nimona soon befriends a knight named Ballister who is shunned by society after being framed for murder by the corrupt director of the Knights' Institute. Nimona helps him to escape prison and works tirelessly to prove his innocence. Throughout their dangerous efforts to clear Ballister's name, Nimona finds him to be incredibly distrusting of her because of her shape-shifting abilities. Ballister continually pegs her with sensitive questions, referring to her as a "what" and not a "who." However, Nimona is unaffected by his dehumanizing language and continually tells him "I am Nimona," because she knows she does not owe him any explanation of her identity. As Nimona continues to fight for and protect him, Ballister begins to appreciate her sense of humor and see her humanity. When they finally succeed in exposing the director for her wrongdoings, she twists the story and turns the whole kingdom against Nimona, manipulating all the citizens, including Ballister, into believing that she is the perpetrator of the crime. Nimona, driven to the brink, transforms into a giant beast, stampedes to the statue of Gloreth in the center of the city, and tries to stab herself through the chest with the statue's sword. Ballister realizes just how cruel he was to Nimona, holds her back from killing herself, and gives her the strength to transform into a phoenix and stop the director from bombing the city. What especially moved me about this movie was the fact that despite the trauma that she had been through and the countless number of people who wanted to or tried to kill her, Nimona still chose to fight for humanity and sacrifice herself to save them. Ballister's heroic acts of stopping her from committing suicide and giving her hope that there was still good in the world helped Nimona to see that humans, while close-minded, do have the capacity to change for the better and see the truth. What this movie teaches us about real life is that the act of denying people respect and dignity simply because they are different from you can not only hurt the person themselves but cause others in your surrounding social circle to discriminate against them, too. Hatred only leads to more hatred, and having an "us vs. them" mindset can be extremely unhealthy because it not only encourages divisions between different groups but can cause unnecessary harm to both parties involved. "Nimona," with its witty, charismatic humor, makes for a both lighthearted and sobering watch. It will teach you to forgive others and respect different identities, something our world needs now more than anything else.

"My Hero Academia" has taught me more about life than any other story I have invested my time in, because of the subtle, yet powerful ways it communicates the importance of support systems and perseverance to a younger audience. It was the reason I maintained an optimistic worldview during the global pandemic. It was the reason I became interested in advocating for mental health. And, most importantly, it is the reason why I developed my unique interpretation of what it means to be a hero, which I will share today. Throughout the first 5 seasons of the anime, the protagonist, Deku, follows an empowering "Hero's Journey" arc, rising from his humble beginning as a boy with no powers in a world full of superhumans and becoming a powerful, motivated student in UA (Japan's No. 1 Hero Training Academy) with the help of his idol and mentor, superhero All Might. But it was the 23rd episode of the sobering 6th season of MHA that taught me something more valuable than anything I ever learned in school. As Deku continued mastering his powers, he became increasingly burdened with the emotional taxation that comes with being a hero. As villain attacks were becoming more frequent and dangerous than ever before after a failed mission on the part of the pro-heroes, he placed the blame for the incidents all on himself, believing that the reason for everyone's suffering was his own "weakness." He fled UA Hero Academy and pushed himself beyond his physical limits, deteriorating his mental health and body to become stronger. As bad press continued to harass the efforts of superheroes everywhere, he felt a severe sense of depersonalization with his hard work and that the only way his life could have any meaning was if he sacrificed himself to save others. When his friends came to convince him to come back to school and that he did not have to bear the weight of saving society all on his own, he fought back against them. However, his classmates then vocalized their appreciation of his past and current efforts, allowing him to see his worth. These days, there are so many accomplished people in the world, just as in the MHA universe, almost everybody has a superpower. For everyday teens trying to discover their purpose in life, the pressure to be exceptional by society's standards can truly be overwhelming. Social media is full of news about remarkable students who got accepted by Ivy League schools or received national awards for starting charities. Regular kids who may not have performed such impactful acts of service but instead do small, good deeds every day may believe their work to be meaningless, simply because their list of accomplishments isn't as long as that of others. But people, regardless of how talented or famous, are not lists of accomplishments. They're human beings, each with the power to contribute change to society. You don't need to save someone's life or achieve to be a hero. Being a hero can mean noticing when someone's efforts go unsung and choosing to be the one person who expresses your appreciation for them. It can mean supporting your friend through a difficult time in their life, offering your shoulder to them when they need to cry to make them feel safe and understood. It can mean making the quiet choice to love even when the hateful voices in the world only seem to get louder. Being a hero is seeing the good in those everyday people whom the rest of the world rarely ever see. "My Hero Academia" taught me that.

I’m alive today because of a reproductive endocrinologist. My parents came to America from the once-impoverished Fujian shores with a pocketful of debt and uncertainty. My father’s gambling addiction and my mother’s lack of post-secondary education only made their financial situation worse. However, two years after settling down, Mama began working double shifts at a local restaurant and Baba quit gambling for good. They did this because, in all of their misfortune, they wanted nothing more than to have a child and be the best parents they could for that child. My parents tried to conceive for years, to no avail. They tried everything from hormonal therapy to IVF, but my mom’s uterine fibroids and my dad’s oligozoospermia rendered all efforts extremely difficult. Distraught, broke, and infertile, they placed all of their remaining hope in Zhang Jin, who was supposedly one of the best fertility doctors on the East Coast. He lived up to his reputation. With vigorous effort on Dr. Jin’s and my parents’ parts, Mama finally became pregnant in January 2006. She gave birth on October 21st of that year. Knowing how much time, money, and energy my parents put into creating and raising me into the person I am today, I’ve always done everything I could to make every hardship they have overcome worth it. I became your traditionally “well-rounded” kid, getting straight A’s and participating in everything I could manage to make my parents proud. It wasn’t until 10th grade when I founded and led my school district’s first environmental protection team—Upper Merion Planet Protectors—that I felt like a leader in an activity I dedicated my time to because it was the first time that I’d initiated my own service group versus just joining a pre-existing one. And after coming home from all of the plarn-making sessions and trash pick-ups I organized for Planet Protectors, I’d sit down with my laptop, take online courses on reproductive health, and watch YouTube videos on the importance of sex-ed in schools—secret passions I never shared with others but maintained an undying love for. Mama and Baba suffered for years to give me life. I don’t think I fully understood or appreciated the scope of their perseverance and sacrifices until high school. It was also then that I realized using this life they gifted me to help couples struggling like they once were to be able to have children would be one of the most rewarding things I could do with my existence. I was already fascinated with reproduction and the intricate world of biology and medicine, so I had that “This is it!” feeling the moment I began my intensive research of fertility care and reproductive endocrinology through Udemy and Coursera classes. It’s the perfect field that combines my love for science and my passion for bringing joy and service to my community. This path will be meaningful, but full of adversity, studying my butt off for the MCAT, competitive medical school admissions, rewriting residency applications over and over, and depressive ruts after fertility treatments fail to help a discouraged patient. But if there’s anything that my mom and dad have taught me, it’s that life is a gift. Fighting to create a good life for yourself and others will make it all worth it. Becoming an REI and bringing the children who’ll become the minds and heroes of the future to life will be worth overcoming any challenge. I’ll make the world a better, healthier place, one baby at a time. I’m alive today because of a reproductive endocrinologist, and I’ll create life tomorrow as a reproductive endocrinologist.

I’m alive today because of a reproductive endocrinologist, my mom, and my dad. My parents came to America from the then-impoverished Fujian shores with a pocketful of debt and uncertainty. My father’s gambling addiction and my mother’s lack of post-secondary education only made their financial situation worse. However, two years after settling down, Mama began working double shifts at a local restaurant and Baba quit gambling for good. They did this because, in all of their misfortune, they wanted nothing more than to have a child and be the best parents they could for that child. My parents tried to conceive for years, with no avail. They tried everything from hormonal therapy to IVF, but my mom’s uterine fibroids and my dad’s oligozoospermia rendered all efforts extremely difficult. Distraught, broke, and infertile, they placed all of their remaining hope in Zhang Jin, who’d pushed past boundaries to open his own REI practice in Manhattan. He was supposedly one of the best fertility doctors on the East Coast. He lived up to his reputation. With vigorous effort on Dr. Jin’s and my parents’ parts, Mama finally became pregnant in January 2006. She gave birth on October 21st later that year. Mama and Baba suffered for years to give me life. I don’t think I fully understood or appreciated the scope of their perseverance and sacrifices until high school. It was also then that I realized using this life they gifted me to help couples struggling like they once were to be able to have their own children would be one of the most rewarding things I could do with my existence. I was already fascinated with reproduction and the intricate world of biology and medicine, so I felt that “This is it!” feeling the moment I began my intensive research on fertility care and reproductive endocrinology. It’s the perfect field that combines my love for science and my passion for bringing joy and service to my community. This path will be meaningful, but full of adversity, late-night burnout, mental-breakdown-level stress, studying my butt off for the MCAT, overwhelmingly competitive medical school admissions, rewriting residency applications over and over, and depressive ruts after fertility treatments fail to help a discouraged patient. There are going to be days where I’ll feel so hopeless and exhausted, I’ll want to give up completely. But if there’s anything that my mom and dad have taught me, it’s that life is a gift. No matter how hard it gets, so long as you keep going, it’ll be worth it. The lifelong journey of learning will be worth it. Becoming an REI and bringing the children who’ll become the minds and heroes of the future to life will be worth overcoming any rejection, failure, or challenge. I’ll make the world a better, healthier place, one baby at a time. Zhang Jin is the reason why I can live, breathe, and live a happy life today, and his impact on my and so many others' lives inspires me to pursue a career in medicine. My parents persevered through the seemingly endless challenges that they were faced with after their immigration to craft a life for themselves that they were proud of, raising a daughter who values gratitude and life so that she may always remember and appreciate the efforts of humans to make the world a better place. I’m alive today because of a reproductive endocrinologist, my mom, and my dad, and I’ll create life tomorrow as a reproductive endocrinologist, serving people like my mother and father and making the world a better place, one baby at a time.

I’m alive today because of a reproductive endocrinologist, my mom, and my dad. My parents came to America from the then-impoverished Fujian shores with a pocketful of debt and uncertainty. My father’s gambling addiction and my mother’s lack of post-secondary education only made their financial situation worse. However, two years after settling down, Mama began working double shifts at a local restaurant and Baba quit gambling for good. They did this because, in all of their misfortune, they wanted nothing more than to have a child and be the best parents they could for that child. My parents tried to conceive for years, with no avail. They tried everything from hormonal therapy to IVF, but my mom’s uterine fibroids and my dad’s oligozoospermia rendered all efforts extremely difficult. Distraught, broke, and infertile, they placed all of their remaining hope in Zhang Jin, who’d pushed past boundaries to open his own REI practice in Manhattan. He was supposedly one of the best fertility doctors on the East Coast. He lived up to his reputation. With vigorous effort on Dr. Jin’s and my parents’ parts, Mama finally became pregnant in January 2006. She gave birth on October 21st later that year. Mama and Baba suffered for years to give me life. I don’t think I fully understood or appreciated the scope of their perseverance and sacrifices until high school. It was also then that I realized using this life they gifted me to help couples struggling like they once were to be able to have their own children would be one of the most rewarding things I could do with my existence. I was already fascinated with reproduction and the intricate world of biology and medicine, so I felt that “This is it!” feeling the moment I began my intensive research on fertility care and reproductive endocrinology. It’s the perfect field that combines my love for science and my passion for bringing joy and service to my community. This path will be meaningful, but full of adversity, late-night burnout, mental-breakdown-level stress, studying my butt off for the MCAT, overwhelmingly competitive medical school admissions, rewriting residency applications over and over, and depressive ruts after fertility treatments fail to help a discouraged patient. There are going to be days where I’ll feel so hopeless and exhausted, I’ll want to give up completely. But if there’s anything that my mom and dad have taught me, it’s that life is a gift. No matter how hard it gets, so long as you keep going, it’ll be worth it. The lifelong journey of learning will be worth it. Becoming an REI and bringing the children who’ll become the minds and heroes of the future to life will be worth overcoming any rejection, failure, or challenge. I’ll make the world a better, healthier place, one baby at a time. Zhang Jin is the reason why I can live, breathe, and live a happy life today, and his impact on my and so many others' lives inspires me to pursue a career in medicine. My parents persevered through the seemingly endless challenges that they were faced with after their immigration to craft a life for themselves that they were proud of, raising a daughter who values gratitude and life so that she may always remember and appreciate the efforts of humans to make the world a better place. I’m alive today because of a reproductive endocrinologist, my mom, and my dad, and I’ll create life tomorrow as a reproductive endocrinologist, serving people like my mother and father and making the world a better place, one baby at a time.

“Why not?” I asked, staring at my arm with my sleeve already pulled back, ready to receive the pinch of a needle and be of service to the world. “You don’t meet the height requirement to donate your blood, and could go into hypovolemic shock if we drew even a pint from you.” the nurse answered. “Thanks for trying, but you’re just too small.” "Too small?" I thought, devastated. All around me, my companions were already lying on gurneys, tubes pumping beautiful, red fluid from their veins that would provide life-saving transfusions for anemic patients. While everybody else had been squeamish at the notion of getting poked with a 17-gauge, I’d been looking forward to the Red Cross blood drive for weeks, reading the manuals on how to prepare from cover to cover and making triple sure I’d drank 16 ounces of water before I left the house that morning. Despite my best efforts, my self-hatred whispered in my ear: “You’re not enough. You’re so pathetically tiny that three people out there in the world are gonna die now because of you.” All my life, my short stature had earned me teasing and underestimation from my peers. People literally looked down on me and were frequently dumbstruck when I won arm-wrestling matches against my stage crewmates who were much taller than me. Although I may have been unable to reach the math problems at the top of the whiteboard without a stepstool, under no circumstances did I ever allow my height to stand between me and my goals. It never occurred to me before that my shortness could hinder me from helping a person in need, and the thought crushed me. As if my day wasn’t ruined enough, my friend informed me that one of our classmates was in the hospital from a suicide attempt. This sudden, heartbreaking news opened my eyes to the extent to which the struggles faced by high schoolers could lead them to develop severe mental ailments. From burnout to the pressure to either conform or be vulnerable to alienation, teenagers carry an overwhelming load that can be detrimental over prolonged periods. In 2021, 20% of people ages 15–24 experienced suicidal ideation, and 9% made an attempt on their lives. Despite this, self-caring and taking time off are often downplayed and treated as an excuse masking laziness or weakness. Society conditions us to view health as solely physical, but neglecting psychological welfare can also engender disaster. As an aspiring doctor, this phenomenon motivated me to approach healthcare as a holistic entity that could only be achieved by caring for both body and mind. I couldn’t donate my blood, but I could give my time. I began my intensive study of the often-stereotyped-and-undermined practice of meditation, researching on the Headspace platform until I was seeing orange smiley faces in my sleep. Using my findings, I founded The Viking Nation Meditation Station at my school, providing a safe space for students to unwind with guided mindfulness exercises. Making time to relax proved immensely beneficial to both myself and other students, skyrocketing my self-confidence. Our cause diffused across Upper Merion, eventually reaching residents of Manor Care Nursing Home. Leading this initiative taught me that anyone can be a hero and improve the lives of others by making little, positive changes with big, empowering effects. Saving a life doesn’t necessarily mean repairing a diseased or injured body—it can be bettering the mental health of your community as well. I’m not too small. 4 feet and 11 inches is all the height I need to make a difference in the world.

“Why not?” I asked, staring at my arm with my sleeve already pulled back, ready to receive the pinch of a needle and be of service to the world. “You don’t meet the height requirement to donate your blood, and could go into hypovolemic shock if we drew even a pint from you.” the nurse answered. “Thanks for trying, but you’re just too small.” "Too small?" I thought, devastated. All around me, my companions were already lying on gurneys, tubes pumping beautiful, red fluid from their veins that would provide life-saving transfusions for anemic patients. While everybody else had been squeamish at the notion of getting poked with a 17-gauge, I’d been looking forward to the Red Cross blood drive for weeks, reading the manuals on how to prepare from cover to cover and making triple sure I’d drank 16 ounces of water before I left the house that morning. Despite my best efforts, my self-hatred whispered in my ear: “You’re not enough. You’re so pathetically tiny that three people out there in the world are gonna die now because of you.” All my life, my short stature had earned me teasing and underestimation from my peers. People literally looked down on me and were frequently dumbstruck when I won arm-wrestling matches against my stage crewmates who were much taller than me. Although I may have been unable to reach the math problems at the top of the whiteboard without a stepstool, under no circumstances did I ever allow my height to stand between me and my goals. It never occurred to me before that my shortness could hinder me from helping a person in need, and the thought crushed me. As if my day wasn’t ruined enough, my friend informed me that one of our classmates was in the hospital from a suicide attempt. This sudden, heartbreaking news opened my eyes to the extent to which the struggles faced by high schoolers could lead them to develop severe mental ailments. From burnout to the pressure to either conform or be vulnerable to alienation, teenagers carry an overwhelming load that can be detrimental over prolonged periods. In 2021, 20% of people ages 15–24 experienced suicidal ideation, and 9% made an attempt on their lives. Despite this, self-caring and taking time off are often downplayed and treated as an excuse masking laziness or weakness. Society conditions us to view health as solely physical, but neglecting psychological welfare can also engender disaster. As an aspiring doctor, this phenomenon motivated me to approach healthcare as a holistic entity that could only be achieved by caring for both body and mind. I couldn’t donate my blood, but I could give my time. I began my intensive study of the often-stereotyped-and-undermined practice of meditation, researching on the Headspace platform until I was seeing orange smiley faces in my sleep. Using my findings, I founded The Viking Nation Meditation Station at my school, providing a safe space for students to unwind with guided mindfulness exercises. Making time to relax proved immensely beneficial to both myself and other students, skyrocketing my self-confidence. Our cause diffused across Upper Merion, eventually reaching residents of Manor Care Nursing Home. Leading this initiative taught me that anyone can be a hero and improve the lives of others by making little, positive changes with big, empowering effects. Saving a life doesn’t necessarily mean repairing a diseased or injured body—it can be bettering the mental health of your community as well. I’m not too small. 4 feet and 11 inches is all the height I need to make a difference in the world.

My childhood evenings were spent with my mom, singing along to Chinese pop ballads and watching the captivating dance performances on CCTV’s annual Lunar New Year Gala. Being a huge theater geek, I taught myself to mimic my mother’s favorite actors so I could perform their skits for her if our WiFi ever went out again. It was during those experiences that I gained my deep respect for China’s performing artists. But when I read a news article revealing female infertility to be one of the leading causes of Asian men cheating on their wives or seeking a divorce, I felt disappointment in my culture for the first time. Asians face the greatest health disparities in fertility care, with Indian women having the highest risk for PCOS and endometriosis. However, Asian stigmas surrounding infertility lead too many women with reproductive health issues to not seek medical attention until it’s too late. My mother waited 2 decades to get her desperately-needed hysterectomy done, despite her experiencing dysmenorrhea so painful she couldn’t get out of bed for days at a time every single month of those 20 years. I grew up feeling helpless as I watched Mama suffer and bleed. I wondered how I’d ever be able to help her or other women that couldn’t receive healthcare when I’m in that same disparaged group myself. Come high school, I stopped wondering and started doing, initiating my own research on OB/GYN. I shadowed any reproductive endocrinologist I could find in my area, filled several journals cover to cover with notes I collected from Coursera and Udemy classes about sexual health, and became a CPR-and-first-aid-certified EMT volunteer on the Upper Merion fire department’s ambulance team. Outside of physical health, I also came to understand the importance of mental health and a good surrounding setting to the overall well-being of a person, so I began my journey as a Verified Listener on the international mental health platform 7 Cups of Tea, providing psychological support to people of all different backgrounds and cultures from all over the world, and founded and served as the President of my school district's first environmental protection team---The Upper Merion Planet Protectors. In this effort, I not only helped clean up and spread public awareness on the importance of taking care of our Earth, but also engaged students in a massive plarn-making project that spanned multiple years. In this experience, we used plastic bags to their fullest, creating mattresses to sleep on for homeless people in Philadelphia. Having comfortable living conditions and emotional support are also essential to good health, and I have always approached medicine with a holistic approach like this. After all, as my mom always told me in Mandarin, "If you're going to do something, do it so that you will leave behind a feeling of satisfaction and gratitude in the people you do it for." And this is the motto that I will live my whole life and navigate my fertility care journey by, no matter what happens along the way. My roots and the home in which I came from drives me to succeed in the medical field no matter what the hardships along the way happen to be, because people like my mother deserve to be treated with respect and to be cared for when they seek healthcare. Receiving this scholarship would help me on my path of becoming an REI physician assistant that’ll bring healthcare to women in need, so mothers can be healthy and share more nights with their daughters, and their daughters can make happy memories in the homes whence they came.