Growing up in an underserved immigrant community, I witnessed how illnesses like sickle cell disease quietly devastated families. It wasn’t just a condition listed in a textbook. It was real and painful and constant for the people I cared about. It was something that too often went unnoticed by those who had the power to help. One moment in particular changed everything for me. My friend called me from the hospital. His little brother, only eight years old, was in the middle of a sickle cell crisis. He lay in the bed, his small body tense with pain, his mother sitting beside him, holding his hand and doing her best to stay strong. I sat there with them, feeling helpless. I couldn’t do anything to ease his suffering. That helplessness stayed with me and became the reason I chose to act. I started organizing blood drives at my school, focusing on raising awareness and gathering donations in minority communities where the need for compatible blood is highest. I stood in front of classrooms, in libraries, and even in lunchrooms, sharing stories and facts about sickle cell disease. I wanted people to understand what this illness meant and how something as simple as a blood donation could save lives. The response was overwhelming. Watching my classmates line up to donate gave me hope that change is possible when people care enough to show up. Then, things became even more personal. I found out that I carry the sickle cell trait. At first, I didn’t think much of it. I felt fine. But when I learned more, I realized this meant I could one day pass it on to my children. The thought of my own child suffering like my friend’s brother filled me with fear. It made the work I was doing feel even more urgent. It became not just about helping others, but about protecting the future of my own family. To keep pushing this mission forward, I want to create a mobile health awareness program that brings sickle cell education, screenings, and genetic counseling directly into underserved neighborhoods. Many families simply don’t have access to this kind of care or knowledge, and I believe we can change that by going to them. I also want to develop a phone-based tool that reminds patients to take their medicine, go to appointments, and connect with local blood drives. For some families, a simple text message could be the difference between life and danger. I also want to launch a youth-led health ambassador program in local schools, giving students the chance to learn about public health and lead change in their own communities. I know what it feels like to be young and feel powerless. But I also know what it feels like to take action and realize that your voice matters. I want to give that experience to others. Receiving the Bettie Lott and Vera Times Public Health Scholarship would mean more than just financial help. It would be a sign that my work matters, that the lives of people in my community matter. As I study biology and work toward becoming an anesthesiologist, this scholarship would help me stay focused on the mission that drives me. It would let me keep showing up for others while preparing to one day lead in the field of medicine. This is not just about a degree. It’s about healing, hope, and justice. With your support, I can continue to build a future where no child suffers in silence and no community is left behind.

Black women are twice as likely to die in the hospital as any other race. I plan to get a PhD to become one of the 3% of black female anesthesiologists. As a Black female anesthesiologist, I plan to champion BIPOC women's empowerment and well-being in the healthcare field. I will provide mentorship and support; provide the guidance and encouragement needed to BIPOC women in medicine, helping them to navigate the systemic challenges faced daily. As I have been doing throughout high school through my leadership positions in multiple clubs, I will do my best to engage with BIPOC communities through outreach programs, health fairs, and educational events, addressing healthcare disparities and promoting wellness and equality. I will continue to host blood drives for sickle cell patients, a disease that affects 1 in 12 black people. I will advocate for policy changes and address healthcare disparities, reproductive justice, and equal access to education and employment opportunities. BIPOC communities lack access to education about these issues, and I will help to conduct and publish research highlighting health disparities and outcomes in BIPOC communities, informing evidence-based solutions. Even though I have already shown my leadership and my capabilities through my presidencies and other positions in not only healthcare clubs but also clubs that promote diversity and help the community, I will continue to pursue leadership roles in medical organizations, ensuring diverse representation and amplifying BIPOC voices. I will address the problems of racism, sexism, and other forms of oppression, acknowledging the unique experiences of BIPOC women. Moreover, I will partner with organizations like the American Red Cross and individuals committed to social justice, amplifying collective impact to help our communities. I will take my time to provide training for healthcare professionals, promoting culturally sensitive care and addressing implicit bias. It is important to develop and implement health education programs, empowering BIPOC women to make informed decisions about their health. Furthermore, I know how little is known about these issues through first-hand experience, and I will ensure it doesn’t just carry on. I will continue to advocate for policy reforms addressing systemic barriers and ensuring equal access to healthcare, education, and economic opportunities. By actively engaging with communities, advocating for change, and contributing to the ongoing fight for social justice and equity, I aim to create a more just and inclusive environment for BIPOC women to thrive. Through my determination and my resilience, I WILL accomplish my goals no matter how long it takes; little by little, I will help women like me live.