I was born into a legacy of silence and survival - a silence only broken by my grandmother's voice as she recounted the stories that shaped our family. I am a proud American of Hmong descent, and my very existence is rooted in the untold history of the Secret War in Laos during the Vietnam War. My grandmother's first husband, a young captain and father of two, gave his life serving alongside U.S. forces to prevent the spread of communism in Southeast Asia. He never returned; his body was never found. After five years of grieving and hoping, my grandmother remarried - this time to my grandfather, another Hmong solider who served in the CIA's covert army and miraculously survived. Together, they built a new life, raising five more children, including my father. I carry their story in my bones - the weight of war, the resilience of love, and the determination to build something better. Though I was born in a land of peace and privilege, I grew up in the shadows of that legacy, shaped by the powerful narratives my grandmother shared. Her voice, often trembling but steady, made the past real to me. I listened, not just with my ears, but with my heart, learning not only about survival, but about the power of loyalty, hope, and purpose. Today, this legacy inspires me to act with compassion and intention. I've found myself drawn to those whose lives echo the fragility and strength I saw in my grandmother. Volunteering at a local Senior Living Home allowed me to serve those who, like her, carry decades of stories - some triumphant, others tragic. I facilitated games, offered companionship, and most importantly, listened. In return, I gained something far greater: an understanding of what it means to be present for someone in their time of need. I began to develop not just a sense of responsibility, but a healing heart - one that seeks to soothe pain, uplift spirits, and honor dignity. As a woman, I've noticed that our health issues are often misdiagnosed, with symptoms frequently dismissed as anxiety, stress, or menstrual cramps. I, unfortunately, was misdiagnosed by my local urgent care because my symptoms were similar to the flu and other common illnesses of the season. Many tests were run if I had Covid-19 and strep, but all were negative when they came back. This moment in my life has ignited a profound passion to pursue a career in the medical field - not just a healthcare provider, but as a voice for women who have faced similar challenges. My goal is to offer more than clinical care; I want to be someone who listens deeply, understands intimately, and stands as a source of strength and solidarity. I hope to ensure that every woman I encounter feels truly seen, heard, and supported by someone who shares her story. This growing empathy has shaped my academic interests and future aspirations. Inspired by my grandmother's quiet strength and the seniors I served, I've developed a passion for healthcare and medicine. I want to pursue a path that enable me to provide healing - not only through science and skill, but through presence and care. I envision myself in the future as a physician who honors both the legacy of my ancestors and the humanity of every patient.

A little snippet about me is that my family has faced a lot of discrimination in the medical side as Hmong. When my dad contracted an illness, the doctors at my local urgent care told him that his illness was not that severe and that it should go away in a few days. Fast forward a week and he was still sick. This completely angered my dad because all the trust he had on the doctors was pointless. Now, it was my turn to face that same fate and get completely screwed over. When I first contracted bronchitis in late 2024, the doctors that I seeked medical attention did not know what I had. I went to multiple urgent cares to find what my illness was, but none was able to diagnose me. At this one particular place, the doctor that came to check me in completely baffled me. He asked me to list my symptoms and if I felt any pain. I, of course, told him what I was feeling and he concluded that my illness should be gone around 3 days and that all I needed to do to recover was to rest, eat, and hydrate. In the end, I was given many of the same medications and prescriptions from previous check ins. None worked after a week and my health kept declining. What felt like forever, my parents had enough and finally forced their hand to persist the doctors to try harder to find out what my illness was. Soon, my doctor thoroughly examined me and diagnosed me with bronchitis. As I finally recieved my right medications and diagnosis, my illness soon went away and I never felt better. This experience had left a deep impression on me about the medical field and made me wonder why some doctors are doing little to nothing to find the root cause of people's suffering. This influenced me to pursue in the medical field and create a change for my community. I want to be able to talk to them honestly about their health and be able to give them the best solutions in their recovery. I want them to regain the trust in the medical industry and that there are doctors who are willing to hear out people's stories. In my future, I want to pursue pharmacy because they are the ones who know the best possible outcomes in each medication that a patient needs. As a Hmong American, I want to be a pillar of trust to my own people and erase a good possible amount of discrimination that some Hmong families face when visiting their doctors. Sometimes, these visits lead to nothing and end up wasting money on unless medications. I hope that if I win this scholarship by any chance can help achieve my goal of becoming a pharmacist.