A global and local issue that matters deeply to me is mental health awareness and access to care, particularly for children and teens in underserved communities. Growing up in Mexico City, I witnessed firsthand how mental health struggles are often misunderstood or dismissed—even in urban areas with more resources. My own cousin suffered from depression, but his struggles were categorized as laziness rather than recognized as a real illness. Experiences like this have made me deeply aware of the urgent need for education, support, and culturally sensitive mental health services. Since moving to the United States, I have worked to make a difference in my own community. In my church ministry, I co-lead Wednesday afternoon sessions where children and teens explore mental health, science, and faith together. These sessions provide a safe space to share feelings, learn coping strategies, and see how evidence-based approaches and faith can complement each other. I have also served as a Peer Ambassador and founded the Multilingual Club at my high school, supporting new immigrant students and helping them feel welcome, included, and understood—because emotional well-being is closely tied to feeling seen and supported. Looking ahead, I plan to major in neuroscience and use my education to expand these efforts on a larger scale. Neuroscience provides the tools to understand how mental illnesses affect the brain both psychologically and physiologically. It can explain the biological mechanisms behind depression, anxiety, and other disorders—how stress affects neurotransmitters, how trauma can change brain structures, and how interventions like therapy, mindfulness, and social support can aid recovery. By making these scientific insights accessible to the public, people can understand mental health like they understand physical health—just as widely as we teach flu prevention. This knowledge empowers communities to recognize early signs, provide proper support, and reduce stigma surrounding mental illness. My goal is to launch yearly outreach campaigns across Mexico—and eventually other countries in Latin America—where children, teens, and families can access counseling, workshops, and educational materials that combine scientific understanding with practical coping strategies. These programs would teach children how to care for their minds as intentionally as they care for their bodies, creating safe spaces in schools where they feel empowered to share their struggles without fear or stigma. This mission is also personal for my family. My sister, diagnosed with ADHD, benefits from accommodations in U.S. schools—extra time on tests, patient guidance, and understanding from teachers—that would be nearly impossible to access in Mexico. Witnessing the difference proper support can make motivates me to implement systemic changes so children in Mexico and Latin America can thrive academically, emotionally, and socially. Mental health in my home country needs a reformation, and I strive to be part of this movement. By combining my education in neuroscience, leadership experience, and dedication to community outreach, I aim to break stigma, provide tangible resources, and empower young people to prioritize their mental well-being. With the education and support I receive, I hope to make neuroscience knowledge accessible to everyone—helping communities understand mental health scientifically and practically, while creating lasting, positive change.

When I first saw a child in my church ministry finally share their struggles and leave our session feeling heard, I realized how transformative accessible mental health care can be. I hope to bring that same opportunity to children across Mexico and Latin America. Growing up in Mexico City, I saw that even in urban areas where resources are more available, many children and teens still struggle with mental health. My own cousin suffered from depression, but his struggles were dismissed as laziness. If children in a city like Mexico City face such challenges, I can only imagine how much harder it is for kids near my grandmother’s rural house, carrying adult burdens long before their tenth birthday. Moving to the United States opened new doors for me, allowing me to pursue educational opportunities that were not available at home. I hope to use this education to make a meaningful impact in Mexico, especially in neuroscience and mental health. In my church ministry, I noticed many children struggling emotionally. Together with a fellow peer leader, we started Wednesday afternoon sessions where we unite to talk about mental health, science, and faith, exploring how evidence-based approaches and prayer can complement each other. Watching children relax into the conversation, their shoulders easing, their voices becoming braver as they shared their feelings, reinforced my belief that accessible mental health care can transform lives. This mission is deeply personal. My cousin’s struggles went unnoticed until he reached a dangerous point with substance use, highlighting the urgent need for awareness and support. Witnessing this reinforced my determination to make mental health care accessible and culturally sensitive across Mexico and Latin America. I plan to major in neuroscience, focusing on understanding the brain and its connection to mental health. With this knowledge, I hope to launch a yearly outreach campaign across Mexico—and eventually other countries in Latin America—where children, teens, and families can access counseling, workshops, and informational materials about coping with common mental illnesses. These programs would emphasize caring for the mind as intentionally as we care for the body, creating safe spaces in schools where children feel supported, just as I’ve seen in the U.S. This mission is also personal for my family. My sister, diagnosed with ADHD, benefits from accommodations in U.S. schools—extra time on tests, patient guidance, and understanding from teachers—that would be nearly impossible to access in Mexico. Witnessing the difference proper support can make motivates me to implement systemic changes so children in Mexico and Latin America can thrive academically and emotionally. Mental health in my home country needs a reformation, and I strive to be part of this movement. By combining my education in neuroscience, leadership experience, and dedication to community outreach, I aim to break stigma, provide tangible resources, and empower young people to prioritize their mental well-being. With the support of the Crenati Foundation Scholarship, I can work toward lasting change—ensuring that children and families have the knowledge, tools, and encouragement to care for their minds as fully as they care for their bodies.

When I first arrived in the United States as a child, I was terrified to step into my classroom. The language, unfamiliar faces, and unknown culture made me feel small and out of place. At first, I struggled to find my footing, but over time, I embraced the challenge—working closely with my teachers, exploring English through books and music, and gradually building a sense of belonging. Today, I walk confidently down the streets of my university, proud of how far I’ve come. Hearing Malgorzata’s story has been deeply inspiring. Her courage to move to a new country alone, her fearlessness in facing challenges, and her determination to master whatever she set her mind to remind me of the importance of striving boldly in my own pursuits. Her example motivates me to continue my efforts—big and small—to create inclusive spaces and make an impact with my passions in STEM. Being part of my high school STEM Academy allowed me to explore these passions in meaningful ways—designing a hydroponics system to teach sustainable farming, improving school pathways for safety, and leading DNA extraction experiments during STEM Challenge Night. These experiences fueled my love for biology and genetics and showed me how science can have a real-world impact. Inspired by Maggie’s example, I hope to give back to my Hispanic community by demystifying genetics and showing how it can affect real lives, rather than being treated as a taboo topic. My work as a Peer Ambassador and founder of the Multilingual Club has allowed me to help new immigrant students and their families adjust to an unfamiliar environment. When I supported Omar, a newly arrived Guatemalan student who did not know English, I saw my younger self in him. At first, he avoided eye contact, was afraid to speak, and felt like he didn’t belong. By the end of the year, he found his place on our school soccer team, and I felt proud watching his first game. I still check in with him from time to time to let him know I am here for him and his family. Faith and community have also shaped my resilience. My church gave me my first sense of belonging in America, and my family taught me to always thank God, even in difficult moments. These lessons have taught me to approach obstacles with gratitude, courage, and hope. From the fear I once felt entering a classroom to confidently walking the streets of my university, I strive to live boldly—intellectually, emotionally, and spiritually—while uplifting others on their journeys. Maggie’s story inspires me to embrace challenges as opportunities, pursue STEM with passion, and create positive impact in my community through inclusion, education, and service.

Blinded by the stage lights and fighting back tears, I tried to compose myself as I walked across the stage. Though the walk lasted only thirty seconds, my heart carried the weight of ten years of hard work and sacrifice. For many in the U.S., high school graduation is expected, but for my family, it was a moment of triumph. I was the first to earn that diploma, yet I did not walk alone. My parents and sister were with me in spirit, along with the history of their sacrifices. My parents left behind everything they knew and loved in Mexico to give my sister and me the chance to discover our roles in the world. When I was ten, my family rushed my sister to the hospital, where a mistranslation caused my parents to fear she had a serious heart condition. Despite my limited English, I urged them to ask the doctor directly, discovering she was having an asthma attack instead. As the eldest daughter in a first-generation Mexican-American family, I often served as my parents’ translator during medical visits, witnessing how language barriers left patients misinformed and underserved. This personal experience fueled my passion to bridge communication gaps in healthcare. Later, my middle school counselor encouraged me to join the four-year STEM Academy at my high school, where I partnered with Global Brigades to design hygiene systems for rural Honduran communities using 3D software. This opportunity showed me the power of STEM to improve lives and strengthened my commitment to serve my community. This experience inspired me to bring that same blend of medical care and engineering solutions to rural communities in Mexico. I want to provide accessible healthcare and practical innovations that address the unique challenges faced by underserved areas like the ones I helped with through Global Brigades. Being first-generation is not a burden but an honor. It means I can guide my sister and future relatives through the maze of classes, tests, and decisions I once navigated alone. Every step I take forward opens a clearer path for them. As I begin my studies at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, I am committed to pursuing neuroscience and becoming a neurologist who offers accessible care in both English and Spanish. I want to serve my community here in the U.S. and in rural Mexico, where poverty often limits access to even the most basic medical care. The brain, like the heart, is an essential organ deserving attention both physically and mentally. One day, I will stand in a rural Mexican clinic, speaking to my patients in our shared language, explaining their diagnoses with the clarity and respect they deserve. That day will be the true fulfillment of my parents’ dream and my own.

Mental health is a passion deeply rooted in my experience growing up in a first-generation Hispanic family where mental health was often dismissed or misunderstood. When I shared feelings of stress or anxiety, my parents usually said, “Don’t worry,” and gave me chores to keep busy. This reflected a common belief that those feelings weren’t real or important. I don’t blame them—this was how their parents treated these issues, too. But I’ve learned that stress and anxiety are real health concerns that deserve attention, not silence. Seeing this gap motivates me to advocate for mental health education, especially in my Hispanic community. With this personal insight, my career goal is to become a neurologist focusing on mental health. I plan to study neuroscience, biology, and psychology to understand the brain and how mental well-being impacts overall health. I want to provide culturally sensitive care in Spanish, breaking down language and cultural barriers that often stop Hispanic patients from getting the help they need. Mental health is still taboo in many immigrant communities where depression and anxiety are often misunderstood as weakness or laziness. Through my future work, I aim to encourage acceptance and offer accessible resources for early treatment. I’m also passionate about creating community outreach programs in rural southern Mexico, where access to medical care is limited and mental health awareness is low. Poverty causes many mental health challenges in these areas, and outreach can help future generations gain education and confidence. My experience with Global Brigades inspired this goal. For my STEM capstone, I helped design water filtration systems and ecological stoves to improve life for families in Honduras. These technologies gave children more time to play, learn, and build emotional well-being instead of spending hours gathering water. I want to bring that kind of holistic support to mental health programs. My leadership work supports this mission. As a peer leader in my church’s youth ministry, I lead mental health sessions based on Catholic values. These sessions give teens a safe space to share struggles and learn healthy coping skills. Many immigrant kids take on adult responsibilities too soon—translating medical info or caring for siblings, which adds to their stress. I want to help them just be kids while building tools to manage their mental health. Advancing diversity and inclusion in mental health means more than just increasing representation—it means changing the way communities like mine understand and talk about mental health. Growing up hearing “Don’t worry” and being told to just keep busy, I know firsthand how damaging silence and misunderstanding can be. I’m committed to becoming a compassionate caregiver and strong advocate who not only provides culturally sensitive care but also helps transform these cultural narratives. By bridging gaps in language, culture, and education, I want to create a future where no one in my community feels ignored or dismissed when they need help the most.

When I was ten years old, my family rushed my younger sister to the hospital because she was struggling to breathe. A medical translator told my parents she had a “heart murmur,” which immediately filled them with fear. Even though my English was limited, I understood the word heart and knew the doctor had not said that. I spoke up, urging my parents to question the translator. The doctor realized the mistake: my sister was having an asthma attack, not a serious heart condition. I will never forget the horror on my parents’ faces nor how quickly misinformation deepened their fear. That moment planted a seed in me, a commitment to ensure no family should face confusion or panic due to a preventable communication gap in healthcare. As the eldest daughter in a first-generation Hispanic family, I grew up translating medical information for my parents, filling prescriptions, making appointments, and sometimes delivering difficult medical news when no translator was available. Over time, I became aware of how often language barriers and a lack of culturally sensitive explanations leave patients misinformed or dismissed. That awareness shaped my mission to bridge these gaps in healthcare, ensuring my community receives accurate and empathetic communication from medical professionals. My commitment to this mission has extended beyond my family. During the summers, I volunteer with St. Joseph Primary Medical Care, traveling from church to church to assist Hispanic community members with filling out medical forms in Spanish, explaining their medical history, and helping them access free vaccinations such as flu and COVID-19 shots. This work gave me a front-row view of the resilience of my community and the urgent need for clear, compassionate healthcare communication. In college, I plan to double major in neuroscience and biology, with a minor in psychology, to prepare for a career as a neurologist. My goal is to provide my Hispanic community not only with physical care but also with an understanding of how brain health and mental well-being are as important as any other aspect of health. Mental health is still taboo in my community. Too often, depression is dismissed as laziness and anxiety brushed off with advice to “just keep busy.” By speaking directly in Spanish, without the inconvenience of a language gap, I hope to encourage my community to recognize mental health struggles as valid medical concerns, not signs of weakness. Addressing these issues early can prevent further psychological distress and even physical symptoms. My work with children has also shaped my perspective. As a peer leader in my church’s youth ministry, I help lead mental health sessions rooted in Catholic values, creating a safe space where teens share their struggles and learn healthy coping outlets. I have seen how young people, especially those in immigrant families, are sometimes burdened with adult responsibilities too early, such as translating at medical appointments or caring for younger siblings. In our youth group, I want to give them a chance to simply be kids, even for a few hours, while equipping them with tools to handle stress, anxiety, and other challenges. Through my educational path and future career, I aim to lift both the physical and emotional burdens that language barriers and cultural stigmas place on my community. I want children to grow up with accurate health information, families to feel confident in their care, and future generations to know their voices matter in the medical system. For me, this is not just a career goal; it is a lifelong mission rooted in personal experience, faith, and the deep love I have for my community.