I don’t really think they get it. What it feels like to be on the outside of the perceived ‘majority’. To have to pay more for a single dorm, or go without housing, because in a gendered system, the faculty don’t know where to put you. To anxiously email professors before the first day of school. Hoping that they get your name right during attendance so they don’t out you in front of the entire class. The fear that you will not be welcome in clubs or activities, that you will be embarrassed if you raise your hand to speak, or that you will be denied Federal Financial Aid because you legally changed your name and gender marker. I’ve experienced all of these, especially the last one, because of how my society devalues me. Which perhaps is how I found a refuge, in art, and science. Art is easy to understand. Queer people tend to gravitate towards it like moths to fire. The things that make us different are often celebrated in the art world, where people are more open-minded, more creative, and more accepting than many of our peers. Science though? Why was I drawn to that? Well, not to answer a question with a question, but have you ever had a perfect raspberry? Soft, like velvet, and perfectly sweet. Those irresistible ones, that a person could eat like candy. I’m sure plenty of people have had unimpressive berries too. Those ones that look ready to eat, but that offer only a slightly tart dullness. Like a sample-sized LaCroix. Not everyone knows that the difference between these two kinds of berries is the number of pollinators they have. The number of moths, bees, birds, and butterflies that touched their lives, when they were still flowers. Diversity, in all things, is and always has been the flavor of life on Earth. It makes us stronger, it makes us smarter, and it makes the planet as a whole a more beautiful place to live. In science, I found beauty in diversity, which means I was able to find the beautiful things about my Afro-Latino, trans, nonbinary self. Art and science inspired me to pursue Medical Illustration at the Rochester Institute of Technology. Medical illustration is important because it is used in educational literature to show healthcare professionals what to look for, to treat and diagnose their patients. Unfortunately, like many of the resources in the education world, many of these diagrams cater to the cisgender, heterosexual, white perceived majority. When I graduate from RIT, I aim to create Illustrated Medical Resources that represent people like me. People of color, trans bodies, and queer family structures. I want to play a role in making The United States a place where gender-nonconforming people and people of color do not have to worry about being misdiagnosed because of prejudices, or lack of resources, in health science. Because of the way I look, I have never been able to hide. I am a five-foot-tall firework of curly hair. I am a burnt sienna wildfire in a white-washed forest. This means that whether I want to or not, I make an impact everywhere I go. That is why I will create illustrations of LGBTQ+ people, and Medical Concerns that are unique to our community. So that we can have better, more comprehensive medical care. Which includes doctors who are used to seeing us, in all the shapes, colors, and sizes we come in.

Drawing has always been like breathing to me. Ever since I could pick up a pencil I was so fascinated in the world around me, that the only way I could express my awe was through my creativity. When I was younger, this adoration for nature, culture, and biology seemed at odds with the options I knew were avalible to me. I was told over and over again that I could choose science or art, but not both; and that they were opposite disciplines. At first, I chose science, and was enrolled in premedical sciences at UNLV at 16 years old, after graduating from West Career and Technical Academy. Even though I was getting good grades, I was miserable, and could not thinking about how eager I was to be able to retire and paint for the rest of my life. At 18, I finally realized that if I was day dreaming about retirement, I was probably in the wrong field. I dropped out of school, which drove a rift between my mother and I. That rift motivated me to go out on my own, in an attempt to find out who I was. During that gap, I moved to a small town in Michigan all on my own, and started taking art classes at the local community college just for the hell of it. I loved it. Art filled my soul. It made me feel like a flame, splintering over an Old Growth Forest, and stimulating new growth from seeds left in the ash in my wake. I imagined myself as an animator, as a concept artist, as a character designer, and when I got my first job in graphic design after I got my Associates Degree, I was over the moon. Except, after I started it, I realized once again, that I was in the wrong place. I was an intern at a high end design studio, and even though I was praised for my work, in product design and advertising, it all felt hollow. I would escape into the wild world of microbes, and environmental science. Entemology and anthropology through nonfiction books. It was a love affair with an old flame. My dive into the sciences, and I wondered if I had made a mistake. I decided that perhaps I should look for other jobs, and that was when I discovered Medical Illustration. Medical Illustration is a job that combines both of my greatest loves. Science, and Fine Art. Furthermore, it is such an esoteric and specialized field that people like me; queer people of color, are not often represented in the diagrams and designs. The more research I did, the more I felt like I had finally found somewhere I belonged. Not just because I would be doing what I was passionate about, but because I truly feel that with my diverse experiences and perspective, I stand to truly make a difference. Brown and queer bodies are very often misunderstood, and misdiagnosed by medical professionals, and I believe that comes, in part, because we are not as present as the straight, cisgender, white images in educational literature. I come from a poor family, but even if I do not get this scholarship, nothing will stop me from pursing Medical Illustration at The Rochester Institute of Technology. Especially since RIT is one of five colleges in North America that offer an accredited Medical Illustration BFA and MFA program. This is my calling; and until I can open any medical textbook and see someone who looks like I do, I have no intention of slowing down.