Values exist at the intersection of nature and nurture. From a biological and social perspective, I owe a lot to my mother whose bravery have made my life possible. My mother's story starts in her homeland of Jamaica where she faced instability and limited opportunities. She emigrated with her siblings in hopes of achieving a higher living standard. Her journey to the United States and the process of acclimating were far from easy, as she navigated a new terrain filled with unknowns. However, able to set aside her fears and leverage educational opportunities, she created a better life for not only herself but also for her future children. Hearing my mother narrate this compelling journey used to serve as the ultimate bedtime story. I marveled at my mom’s courage and questioned what I would have done in her shoes, but with age, I began to abide by the same resilience and bravery. I have courageously sought leadership positions to foster societal change. My position as the Delaware Academy of Medicine intern exemplifies this value as I have implemented programs aimed at addressing the unique healthcare issues of minorities in Delaware. The Carleton Liberal Arts Experience coincides with my continued effort to combat systemic issues by supplementing my understanding of historical injustices and aiding in advocacy for those underrepresented in medicine. I find myself constantly channeling the value of bravery to stand up and take specific action needed to address systemic issues in my community. What has concerned and intrigued me most is why the majority of children afflicted are African American. High rates of asthma in urban America have been well-documented as clear evidence of environmental racism, an epidemic that has persisted over decades without any concerted efforts to get it resolved. While my younger self overlooked Nickayla’s cough, today I recognize that her cough signifies something much bigger–the devaluation of Black life. Asthma was the first health disparity I noticed with my own eyes, but I would learn that such disparities are everywhere. The routine acceptance of health disparities tells me that Black life is worth less in the American psyche. Understanding these health outcomes transcended the barriers of the classroom. I have continued to pursue this thought through involvement with the County Youth Planning Board in my community. On the board, I peeled back layers to uncover the roots behind infectious diseases and health inequities in underrepresented communities while nurturing a greater comprehension of my interest in healthcare. It begins with people like me. People who are curious about epidemiology and who value all lives–no matter their color. With the proper education, people like me from diverse backgrounds can foster systemic change. As I embark on my college studies next fall at Johns Hopkins University, I am eager to understand the design of the healthcare system and mechanisms to curb epidemics to make sure that my children, Nickayla’s children, and generations of African-American children do not accept poor health conditions of people in their communities as a norm.

“Can you explain how you solved the linear equation?” my math teacher asked, referring to a problem written on the board that I had answered. Surely it was simple enough, I thought. I rose and carefully went over the procedures to solve the equation for the class. After explaining, I noticed confused expressions springing around the classroom. Although I wasn't nervous, in a few words I tripped and slurred while presenting. Yet again, my understanding of the solution was clear in my head, but the translation of my thoughts into words had failed me. At this time, speaking in clear sentences was a struggle for me, especially in my rigorous classes. When talking to peers about academic subjects, my flaw prevented me from engaging effectively. Awareness of my struggle did not immediately foster any change. Instead, internal pressure took root and became a weed that created further difficulties. Overthinking my struggle led to more blanking and stuttering when attempting to explain a concept. Fighting this struggle on my own was not effective. I decided to consult my literature teacher for support, after building a strong relationship that year. Motivated by the guidance from my teacher, I began reading aloud to myself and focused on learning the class material I had the most trouble comprehending. I even replayed recorded presentations I had given to my parents in our living room and asked for their evaluations so I could implement this feedback. After countless hours of refining my speech and explaining class concepts to myself, I was able to see the results when I had the opportunity to present for Future Medical Professionals of America, a club for which I am a core leader. With little struggle, I was able to clearly present multiple activities for those desiring a unique and deeper medical experience. In math class, I am now able to support my peers and engage in critical discussions. While I am proud of the progress I have made in my ability to communicate my thoughts verbally, I want to continue to develop my own unique voice. By undergoing rigorous environments with the help of a proper support system, I am able to manage my struggles and further eliminate these difficulties. With more self-reflection and continual refining in these environments, my voice will become a powerful tool to not only use in the classroom but to develop and mold my community.

Going to Philly was the ultimate treat because our entire family - grandma, aunts, and cousins - still lived in the City of Brotherly Love. I could not wait to play tag with my cousin Nickayla, who was two years my junior, or spend hours in her bedroom enjoying her extensive Barbie collection. It didn’t matter that Nickayla would cough throughout the entirety of our playtime. As a child, I accepted her coughing and asthma as a norm. It was not until we were growing older and Nickayla’s breathing would deteriorate so rapidly that she’d have to retreat into her bedroom to spend time on the ventilator, that I began to wonder about the etymology of her condition. This was the first time when I dreamed of becoming a doctor, equipped with knowledge and skills to relieve my cousin’s suffering. Years have passed and thankfully, Nickayla’s asthma has gotten better. But my mind is still preoccupied with the many reasons that cause 1 in 4 children, mostly African American, in Philadelphia to have asthma, reducing their childhoods to ventilators and inhalers. High rates of asthma in urban America have been well-documented as clear evidence of environmental racism, an epidemic that has persisted over decades without any concerted efforts to get it resolved. It appears that too many in America have accepted this status quo as a norm, just as my younger self did a decade ago. But having lived through the pandemic and having seen how powerful our epidemiology and healthcare professionals can be in addressing a health threat of an enormous magnitude, I am determined to no longer compromise on the health outcomes of millions of Black and Brown children living in American cities. And epidemiology will offer me a platform to do just that. As a leader in the Future Medical Professionals of America, one of the most popular clubs at my high school, I developed a habit of regularly perusing NIH blogs, Medical News Today, HealthLine, and Apple News for articles related to disparities in healthcare, medical innovations, and distinguished healthcare professionals. It has allowed me to develop a list of experts to invite as part of our annual speaker series. It has also expanded my understanding of the medical field and the impact various medical professionals make on improving health outcomes. So when I came across Hill Golden’s article titled Coronavirus in African Americans and Other People of Color, I knew I found something that could help me realize my dream of helping children like Nickayla. Since, I have pursued my internship at the Delaware Academy of Medicine exploring COVID-19 and other viruses and diseases impacting low-income communities and communities of color. I am able to deeply explore how diseases affect communities with lower socioeconomic status. This internship allows me to dissect many variables of socio economics such as social determinants of health, race, land use planning, and current chronic illnesses. As I near the end of this internship, I will be able to implement my Kellogg model program in economically disadvantaged areas in my state. These programs will target health offices ensuring diversity programs are taken to supplement a doctor's learning and general webinars for the public to increase their knowledge on different health outcomes. As I embark on my college studies next fall, I am eager to better understand what contributes to these systemic failures, the design of the healthcare system, and mechanisms to curb epidemics to make sure that my children, Nickayla’s children, and generations of African Americans children do not accept poor health conditions of people in their communities as a norm.

Going to Philly was the ultimate treat because our entire family - grandma, aunts, and cousins - still lived in the City of Brotherly Love. I could not wait to play tag with my cousin Nickayla, who was two years my junior, or spend hours in her bedroom enjoying her extensive Barbie collection. It didn’t matter that Nickayla would cough throughout the entirety of our playtime. As a child, I accepted her coughing and asthma as a norm. It was not until we were growing older and Nickayla’s breathing would deteriorate so rapidly that she’d have to retreat into her bedroom to spend time on the ventilator, that I began to wonder about the etymology of her condition. This was the first time when I dreamed of becoming a doctor, equipped with knowledge and skills to relieve my cousin’s suffering. Years have passed and thankfully, Nickayla’s asthma has gotten better. But my mind is still preoccupied with the many reasons that cause 1 in 4 children, mostly African American, in Philadelphia to have asthma, reducing their childhoods to ventilators and inhalers. High rates of asthma in urban America have been well-documented as clear evidence of environmental racism, an epidemic that has persisted over decades without any concerted efforts to get it resolved. It appears that too many in America have accepted this status quo as a norm, just as my younger self did a decade ago. But having lived through the pandemic and having seen how powerful our epidemiology and healthcare professionals can be in addressing a health threat of an enormous magnitude, I am determined to no longer compromise on the health outcomes of millions of Black and Brown children living in American cities. And epidemiology will offer me a platform to do just that. As a leader in the Future Medical Professionals of America, one of the most popular clubs at my high school, I developed a habit of regularly perusing NIH blogs, Medical News Today, HealthLine, and Apple News for articles related to disparities in healthcare, medical innovations, and distinguished healthcare professionals. This allowed me to curate an engaging curriculum our club uses to keep our members informed and growing. It also allowed me to develop a list of experts to invite as part of our annual speaker series. It has also expanded my understanding of the medical field and the impact various medical professionals make on improving health outcomes. So when I came across Hill Golden’s article titled Coronavirus in African Americans and Other People of Color, I knew I found something that could help me realize my dream of helping children like Nickayla. There’s hardly been a family in America that hasn’t been affected by COVID. Still, the health disparities in maternal and infant health outcomes or asthma rates are also reflected in the disparate ways COVID affected different communities. Once again, African Americans were more likely to contract the virus and more likely to experience more serious forms of illness. According to Dr. Ala Stanford, a CNN Hero who I had a chance to speak to last fall, there are systemic failures that were responsible for this status quo. As I embark on my college studies next fall, I am eager to better understand what contributes to these systemic failures, the design of the healthcare system, and mechanisms to curb epidemics to make sure that my children, Nickayla’s children, and generations of African Americans children do not accept poor health conditions of people in their communities as a norm.

I would like to start out by thanking the scholarship committee for enabling my participation and access to education. “FDA approves new Alzheimer's Drug.” Reported by the car radio was an all-too-familiar genetic disease with a new advancement. A wave of relief washed over me upon hearing that the battle never wavered against Alzheimer's. Many previous drugs aim to keep the symptoms of Alzheimer's at bay, leaving families forced to watch their older relatives succumb to this disease. Approved by the FDA, Leqembi was a novel drug proven to reduce the cognitive decline of Alzheimer's by 27 percent. Despite the ongoing mystery of the hereditary causes of the chronic disease that continue to elude doctors and researchers, this drug acts as another step toward a long journey of treating Alzheimer's and the older communities still suffering from it. Ageism has sunk us into a cycle of “disposable” older communities having limited access to modern medication from the lack of research. Light was shed on this problem once more during the pandemic experience, during which the majority of young adults believed only the older community would have their lives stolen by COVID-19, and it, therefore, did not require urgent behavioral changes. This notion only endangered the community more, encouraging the mutations and variants to follow. With a growing need to explore and treat Alzheimer's, novel medication, such as Leqembi, is evidence that elderly communities are yet to leave the minds of researchers and doctors. Not only will conducting more research on Alzheimer's aid in the health of older communities, but it will also open the door to more studies of the brain. Further exploration of this uncharted territory in the brain enables more discoveries about degenerative and long-term memories, a branch of neuroscience we have only grazed the surface of. The idea of solving complex cases such as Alzheimer's and other diseases fuels me with energy, knowing the well-being of the other communities will also be improved and that the lives of older adults will not be neglected!

Going to Philly was the ultimate treat because our entire family - grandma, aunts, and cousins - still lived in the City of Brotherly Love. I could not wait to play tag with my cousin Nickayla, who was two years my junior, or spend hours in her bedroom enjoying her extensive Barbie collection. It didn’t matter that Nickayla would cough throughout the entirety of our playtime. As a child, I accepted her coughing and asthma as a norm. It was not until we were growing older and Nickayla’s breathing would deteriorate so rapidly that she’d have to retreat into her bedroom to spend time on the ventilator, that I began to wonder about the etymology of her condition. This was the first time when I dreamed of becoming a doctor, equipped with knowledge and skills to relieve my cousin’s suffering. Years have passed and thankfully, Nickayla’s asthma has gotten better. But my mind is still preoccupied with the many reasons that cause 1 in 4 children, mostly African American, in Philadelphia to have asthma, reducing their childhoods to ventilators and inhalers. High rates of asthma in urban America have been well-documented as clear evidence of environmental racism, an epidemic that has persisted over decades without any concerted efforts to get it resolved. It appears that too many in America have accepted this status quo as a norm, just as my younger self did a decade ago. But having lived through the pandemic and having seen how powerful our epidemiology and healthcare professionals can be in addressing a health threat of an enormous magnitude, I am determined to no longer compromise on the health outcomes of millions of Black and Brown children living in American cities. And epidemiology will offer me a platform to do just that. As a leader in the Future Medical Professionals of America, one of the most popular clubs at my high school, I developed a habit of regularly perusing NIH blogs, Medical News Today, HealthLine, and Apple News for articles related to disparities in healthcare, medical innovations, and distinguished healthcare professionals. This allowed me to curate an engaging curriculum our club uses to keep our members informed and growing. It also allowed me to develop a list of experts to invite as part of our annual speaker series. It has also expanded my understanding of the medical field and the impact various medical professionals make on improving health outcomes. So when I came across Hill Golden’s article titled Coronavirus in African Americans and Other People of Color, I knew I found something that could help me realize my dream of helping children like Nickayla. There’s hardly been a family in America that hasn’t been affected by COVID. Still, the health disparities in maternal and infant health outcomes or asthma rates are also reflected in the disparate ways COVID affected different communities. Once again, African Americans were more likely to contract the virus and more likely to experience more serious forms of illness. According to Dr. Ala Stanford, a CNN Hero who I had a chance to speak to last fall, there are systemic failures that were responsible for this status quo. As I embark on my college studies next fall, I am eager to better understand what contributes to these systemic failures, the design of the healthcare system, and mechanisms to curb epidemics to make sure that my children, Nickayla’s children, and generations of African Americans children do not accept poor health conditions of people in their communities as a norm.