I have always been drawn to great epics with legendary tales of heroes and villains, but none have impacted me like the Ramayana. I admire the Ramayana because it was my first true introduction to another culture and moreover, a culture I had previously perceived to be entirely different from my own. Written by Valmiki roughly 1500 years ago, the Ramayana is recognized as one of the great Sanskrit epics of Hinduism; it narrates the life and journey of a young prince while demonstrating important life and spiritual lessons. When I first read the Ramayana, I was a freshman in college. I had just left my small town in Missouri to attend school in New York. I’d had limited exposure, if any at all, to any religion or culture outside of my own, so when my professor assigned the text, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Ultimately, however, I found myself captivated by its stories and enthralled by its characters. The epic begins by introducing Rama; he is unfairly exiled from his kingdom with his wife and brother. Shortly thereafter, Rama’s wife is kidnapped by an evil king, and Rama must journey to rescue her. On his quest, Rama encounters one hardship after another but maintains his discipline, honesty, and kindness. Time and again, when faced with difficulties, he remains virtuous. In the end, he rescues his wife and returns to his kingdom. Though the plot may seem simple, the Ramayana is a complex tale of vibrant characters and surprising twists. Every time I read it, I gain a new perspective or find meaning in something I hadn’t before. With every read, I learn something new about life and myself. For that reason, the Ramayana is my favorite book.

A self-proclaimed “failed perfectionist” once told me “Dee, don’t let the perfect be the enemy of the good.” At the time, I was struggling to reconcile my perfectionist tendencies with the seemingly novel revelation that time is limited. This, coupled with my propensity to overcommit, meant that I was constantly overextended and failing to meet self-imposed expectations. I was never satisfied with doing my best because I was driven to be “the” best. Thus, if something was not perfect, it was a failure – there was no in-between. This meant that I overlooked things that were in fact accomplishments and achievements because they were not noteworthy enough. I disregarded worthwhile progress that was, by all other measures “good,” because it was not perfect. More importantly, I began to confuse perfection (or lack thereof) with my self-worth. I slowly adopted the wise wisdom given to me by the reformed perfectionist and managed to become one myself. This advice helped me set reasonable expectations and smarter goals. It helped me feel proud of my accomplishments even when they did not come about as planned. Now, whether it’s academic performance or adopting healthy lifestyle goals, I pace myself. I look for what I call, “small wins” to stay motivated, as a reminder that all progress is good, even if it’s not perfect.

My goals for the future are inspired by my passion to help those overcoming mental health challenges. Having experienced the direct and indirect impact of mental health illness in my own life, including the loss of my uncle, I realize the dire need for change in communities like mine and recognize the gaps in accessibility and availability of mental health resources. As I learn more about the challenges of finding mental healthcare, I grow increasingly adamant about bringing about change in this space. To that end, I hope to merge my passions for health and technology to inspire greater awareness around mental health and create opportunities for those with mental health challenges to seek and find the resources they need to lead a joyful, fulfilling life. I aim to one day grow my current start-up that connects university students to mental health resources from a small team of professionals to a full-fledged venture that is mission-driven and sustainable. I measure the successful completion of these goals not by my accomplishments, but by the impact that I have on underserved communities.

I grew up in a suburb just outside of Kansas City, Missouri. It was not a rural community, but the countryside was always just around the corner. Suffice it to say, I was not interested in the greener parts of town. My fear of tiny creatures and things that go bump in the night was all far too unbearable for me to enjoy a camping trip in the woods or hike in the forest. Then, I moved to New York City. I was accepted to New York University for my undergraduate studies and within just a few months I went from tire swings near the lake and outdoor campfires to endless pavement and late-night sirens. At first, I was overjoyed. Who wouldn’t be excited to live in the concrete jungle? Yet, suddenly, I began to crave the outdoors. As I struggled to keep up with the transition to college, I yearned for and sought out opportunities to be in nature. These moments become my peaceful hiatus from the city that never sleeps. The semi-quiet of Central Park and the peaceful state of Bear Mountain were trips that I looked forward to and gave me a unique appreciation for nature. Being outdoors, in nature, gave me a sense of comfort and home when I couldn’t find it elsewhere.

I was in 7th grade when my dad was arrested for first-degree murder. Growing up, our family seemed like any other—we took family vacations, enjoyed summer cookouts, and hosted the occasional Christmas party. As I grew older, though, I started to notice that we weren’t quite like other families. My dad came home every few days, but never managed to stick around. The occasional fit turned into storms of drunken rage. Awkward moments at the dinner table became desperate flees from the house. By 7th grade, violence was typical in my household; and when I witnessed the death of my cousin at the hands of my father, I saw my life unravel. For years, I struggled with bouts of depression and PTSD; I developed OCD and anxiety; I lived with a looming fear in the back of my head alongside flashbacks of violence and cruelty. At the time, I felt that I was bound to fail and undeserving of happiness. But I had persistence and I persevered. I surrounded myself with friends and mentors that encouraged me to value my life despite my circumstances. I focused on school with the intent of bettering my life and starting somewhere new. I did just that—I graduated top of my class and went to NYU for my undergraduate studies; I went on to work at the top law firm in the country and pursue a master's degree in public health; and now, I will be pursuing a third degree at Cornell Tech in the fall. I still face the same obstacles and challenges as I did years ago, but every day I choose to overcome them; to see my future and not my past. Persistence, for me, isn’t just a one-time story, but a life-long journey that I look forward to every day.

Dr. Melody Goodman is the Associate Dean for Research and Associate Professor of Biostatistics at New York University. She is also the most inspiring female leader in my life. During my first day in Dr. Melody Goodman’s Data Management and Statistical Computing course, she asked the students “What do you think you will struggle with most in this course?” Most students gave the responses you would reasonably expect—coding, new software, career prospects. My response was “showing up.” Though funny it may sound, “showing up” and putting myself in environments where I was unfamiliar with or unprepared for new material, had always been my shortcoming as a student, and one that I consistently grappled with. I doubted whether I could have a successful career in data and technology. Dr. Goodman, however, created a learning environment where I not only felt accountable for my studies but also, simply put, wanted to show up. I wanted to be present, I wanted to learn new material, and I wanted Dr. Goodman to be the professor who taught me. In her class, I learned not only about data management and computing but also how to be a better and more accountable student; how to be excited about learning; and how to enjoy things that, before her class, I knew absolutely nothing about. Those are the qualities that make an excellent teacher and leader, and that is precisely what I aspire to be. More importantly, I felt personally inspired by Dr. Goodman. Throughout my seven years of studies at NYU, I had never had a black, female professor. Oddly, I never questioned it or wondered why—it just hadn’t ever happened. Then I took Dr. Goodman’s class and I thought about it all the time. I wondered why that hadn’t been the case before. I wondered if having her as a role model had inspired me to be a better student. I wondered whether I would have excelled in every course if she’d been my professor for every one. By the end of the semester, I didn’t have to wonder anymore, because I knew that it was the case. I’d had the opportunity to learn from a brilliant professor and one who was like me. Dr. Goodman was the professor who helped me believe that I can do difficult things and overcome self-doubt. She was the leader that inspired me to believe that I can have a successful career in Data and Technology, one that I am now pursuing. As I build my career, I hope to spearhead initiatives that align with my passions and interests. In doing so, I aim to serve as a role model for students like myself, who doubted their potential but want to transform the health tech space.

As a staunch public health advocate, I am inspired by the use of artificial intelligence in healthcare and public health. In my current role as a data analyst and co-founder of an early-stage health startup, I search for technologies that leverage data and technology to enhance the accessibility and availability of healthcare. I am particularly excited and intrigued by the potential for artificial intelligence to enhance the patient experience and ensure better health outcomes. Specifically, I am inspired by an AI framework that helps combat the COVID-19 pandemic. Developed by researchers at MIT, this technology aims to detect COVID-19 based on the sound of someone’s cough. As straightforward as it may sound, the underlying technology is quite complex—MIT researchers built an open voice model to collect "forced-cough" cell phone recordings from roughly 5,000 different individuals, creating the largest COVID-19 cough dataset at the peak of the pandemic. They used this data to develop an AI speech processing framework that operates as a pre-screening diagnostic test for COVID-19. Patients, asymptomatic or otherwise, can be monitored in real-time via the MIT framework, with the technology distinguishing COVID from other diseases and respiratory infections. This technology is particularly fascinating, not only because of its architecture but also because of the public health implications of its implementation. Individuals who may otherwise avoid COVID testing due to cost or discomfort may soon have the option of a non-invasive and cost-effective means to pre-screen for COVID-19. Furthermore, at a time when healthcare resources are limited (and in some regions, non-existent), healthcare workers and institutions must have an efficient means of identifying new COVID cases and optimizing resource allocation; this technology can help accomplish this. As I move forward in my career and my studies, I look forward to exploring and developing new technologies that can improve the healthcare system. I intend to make equitable, efficient healthcare a reality. Thank you for your consideration.