I am a Latina but I have had more privileges than others in my community. I’ve acknowledged that just because I have these advances doesn’t mean I shouldn’t help those around me. I want to help those who don’t have these opportunities and inspire them to fight. Our parents brought us into this country to give us possibilities they didn’t have and we should take advantage of it. Diversity is a part of me and that won’t change. I have a voice and I’ll make sure to spread my knowledge of STEM like I’ve been doing. Marginalized people have a distrust in doctors and the medical system because historically doctors experimented on them. For example, when doctors didn’t treat African-American men who had Syphilis because they wanted to see how the disease progressed. They discovered HeLa cells when they took cells from Henrietta Lacks without her permission and sterilized marginalized women without their consent (like what is happening to ICE detainees). We’re seeing it right now with the covid vaccines; people do not trust doctors. If there is more diversity in the medical field, more doctors who look like patients, it would make it a little easier for those people to trust the system again and get the medical attention they need. Inclusion and diversity is important to restore the trust that marginalized communities have lost. Diversity also helps when creating a solution. Different perspectives often lead to a range of solutions. It’s important to have a wide range of solutions to create a more robust plan or philosophy. The word diversity itself includes a large percentage of people who have the ability to find larger inequalities in our society. Surprisingly, maternal death rates have increased. If we did a study that only included white mothers then that data is only applicable to white mothers. We’re missing the data about other mothers and their experiences. When we combine a study with all backgrounds we have a more accurate representation of what the problem is and how to fix it. These differences can bring new perspectives necessary to promote discovery.

I went inside the museum of art, checking my watch knowing I had an hour before the demonstration. As I walked around, I realized life is like a museum full of beautiful artwork, blank walls waiting with unfinished potential. Yet some have empty hallways with no artwork in sight; no imagination; no beauty. Some people have no happy ending. I glared at the night sky as I walked outside and got in position. In 2014, I was studying abroad in France. My father had a friend whose parents were from the Middle East, though she was raised in Bordeaux, France. She invited us to participate in a demonstration. During that time, the conflict in Syria rose to dangerous levels and hundreds of thousands of civilians needed humanitarian assistance. I was a child barely entering her teenage years so I wasn’t allowed to be heavily involved; I was able to plan out a peaceful demonstration and participate in it as well. I held a sign that said “Syria” and was a civilian child. There were people with fake weapons and white masks who were holding signs with the words “ISIS” and “Syrian government”. In a separate group, there were others holding images of blue flags with a circle of yellow stars -European Flags. This demonstration was supposed to show how even though ISIS and other extremist Islamic groups were killing civilians, European countries were just as guilty for not allowing refugees in their countries. The speakers screeched “BANG! BANG!” as demonstrators started running. I ran as the person beside me fell. I made eye contact with one of the shooters “BANG!” I fell to the floor spiritless. There was a part in this demonstration that was unintentional but left an impact on the audience when asked what were some memorable moments of this day. I wore a red scarf but I didn’t tie it around my neck and it was a little windy that day. When I fell, the scarf flew up in the air, and just as the civilians were dying, the audience saw a scarf slowly hit the ground. People said that it left an impact because it was a scarf of a child which they symbolized it with the blood of innocent people. The police were notified ahead of this demonstration; it was done respectfully and peacefully. When everyone was “dead”, my father’s friend grabbed a mic and spoke about issues that needed attention. I learned a lot that day. I learned about the severe problems in Syria and how to help refugees from Syria who arrived in France. I learned which areas of literacy and French language courses to point the refugees to. Raising awareness among the French public was the first step to expand Commission d’Acces aux Documents Administratifs, an organization aimed at ensuring government transparency in regards to refugees, and giving homes to Syrian refugees temporarily. Leadership isn’t just about being in the front. There are different types of leadership. I helped do this because every person counts and raising awareness of other people’s basic rights is essential. I wasn’t an adult when I was a part of this nor did it affect me personally, but it affected people in other places which was a reason to use my voice. I stood up and had an active voice to raise awareness for a crisis that was affecting hundreds of thousands of people. I personally worked and helped three refugees settle in Bordeaux, France which was between a five to six-month process. This is leadership; helping others is being a leader.

“Honor. Courage. Commitment.” I’d always thought these three words were insignificant, yet they’re the core values of the U.S. Naval Sea Cadets. What is honor? I’m not talking about Avatar the Last Airbender where Zuko’s honor will be restored if he captures the Avatar. Honor isn’t something that is given but earned. My mother tells me to honor the things given to me because we didn't start off with much and you can lose what you have in an instant. Although she is correct that honor is appreciating something, it goes beyond that. The same goes with courage and commitment. They have clear definitions online yet are different to an individual. In my first recruit training, I crossed into a world of people yelling in my face to “move with a purpose”. I thought that as long as I did the minimum I would be fine, but that's not how it works. Recruit training is meant to break you so they can build you back into a better version of yourself. I was used to pushing myself academically, but not physically. PT in the mornings all depends on how we did as a team and although I wasn’t the weakest link, I was definitely toward the bottom of the chain. One morning we had to Asian Squat until told otherwise. They didn’t know that a few years ago I’d had surgery to be able to walk normally, and although I could, my heel couldn’t touch the ground. Everyone was in position, but I kept falling over trying to get that heel on the ground. My Petty Officer came over and looked at me, not saying anything. My eyes watered in frustration. Why? Why couldn’t I do it? Why was I getting so worked up about not doing a single exercise? She opened her mouth and said “Good. Get frustrated with yourself. Squat as low as you can.” I was angry, but with what? With whom? What was the point? What am I trying to accomplish by being here? I realized I could go home and give up, but I wouldn’t. I could stand up and say no, but I wouldn’t. I was frustrated because I wanted to be a better person who could keep up with her teammates. I wanted to show people I can do anything if I commit myself to it. I was committed because at the end of the day I was proud of myself and of the people around me who didn’t give up either. I had the courage to not give up, even when my limbs screamed from soreness. I had the courage to not give up when my boots dug so deeply into my skin I got blood on my socks. I passed all my requirements and got my certificate of graduation from recruit training. I learned honor was being pushed past your limit but not giving up. I will do Air Force ROTC at UNC-Chapel Hill this fall.

Have you ever felt useless? Like you would never amount to anything no matter how much effort you put in or no matter how hard you try? Anytime college came up, that’s how I felt. I thought the only way I would ever achieve the luxury of post-secondary education would be by joining the military. My mother didn’t go to college; she didn’t even finish high school. This led to high suffocating expectations as an immigrant dropout. What were those expectations that were so soul-crushing that I couldn’t even look her in the eye? Getting the best grades, going straight into the military, and getting a college education afterward; no hanging out with friends, no getting a job, no distractions. Some say that it doesn’t sound bad, but I would like to give my side of the story. Many Americans join the military so they could go to college debt-free and the military has many jobs within its divisions so it can’t be that bad! True. But, I did a biophysics internship with UNC-Chapel Hill during my junior year and I fell in love. I knew medicine is what I wanted to do based on the classes I’ve taken but learning about PD-1 and PD-L1 proteins in tumor cells versus healthy cells confirmed where my passions laid. I fell in love with the descriptions of the classes, the campus environment, the clubs, and just the overall opportunities at UNC; I didn’t want to wait four years. I told my parents I wasn’t going to join the army after high school because I would find a way to go to college. The house shook with anger. My mother was going to send me away with my biological father; in hope that I gained some “common sense”. Not joining the military was the equivalent of saying “I’m not going to college” in her head. It was a very nasty fight that affected my performance on a test worth 20% of my grade. There was a cloud over my head that got heavier as the day went on until it broke; I cried and cried. Then a teacher came to my aid. I told her everything and she gave me hope in what felt like endless confusion and doubt. She told me that even though my parents were immigrants, I was an American therefore I could apply for financial aid. She explained that it would be a longer process compared to the way my peers would do it and I would have more obstacles but that it wasn’t impossible to do. Everything that was mentioned in the conversation was reported back to the mother. It took a week before she was able to look me in the eyes and agree with my plan; also to convince her that I didn’t need to live with my biological father because I would go to college. This teacher helped me throughout the whole process. She gave me tips on how to create a resume; she guided me through the FAFSA application process; she reminded me to fill out the CSS application. She could have just given me the information about FAFSA and moved on, but she decided to stay and support me when even my own parents had given up; she is an amazing person. She helped me edit my essays and even did research on scholarships that I should apply to. How did she impact my higher education journey? She was the one who gave me hope to start it. Her name is Jennifer Johnson and I’m thankful to have met such a wonderful person.

I am a Hispanic female and I am certain of that identity, but it wasn’t always like that. Growing up, I felt I had to choose if I was Hispanic or American because certain situations forced me to pick. I was bullied by my peers both in Mexico and US which caused me to go mute for a year and then I was underestimated by a teacher that deemed Hispanics as lazy. Eventually, I learned different backgrounds and cultures are okay. I learned that knowing two languages is something to be proud of because it connects me with more people. This is why I began tutoring Hispanic children in English. They need to appreciate their backgrounds while embracing their new environment, so they won’t face the same choice that I did. At first, helping kids was a mess. I didn’t know how to teach English or keep the child’s attention span. I had to research different methods and materials. I also started creating custom lesson plans for each student. It was a long process but I eventually figured it out. Once the awkward phrase passed, I was able to form strong friendships with the students and understand both their strengths and weaknesses. I’ve grown attached to them and can’t wait to see their success further down the line. I dealt with my challenges by helping those who will face those challenges later in life. By tutoring others, it also allowed me to understand different studying methods which improved my academic performance. The pandemic hasn’t stopped me from helping these children. I’m still tutoring children but online instead. I’ll admit it was like starting all over again because it was harder to get a child’s attention and most students didn’t want to stare at a screen again when they just did it for seven hours. But, children in elementary in Hispanic households were at a disadvantage. I have had some trial and errors but I’ve mostly adapted to which methods to use and what resources which child needs. I was able to expand this service into a club so other classmates can help children learn since the pandemic has caused a greater amount of students to need help and I’m only one person. Most of the students are kids but I also have helped middle schoolers and high schoolers which are easier in my opinion since it’s homework help. Right now I tutor four children; the youngest is a 2nd grader and the oldest is a sophomore in high school. This service is very important to me because I wish I had this help and opportunity when I was younger so I’m glad I’m able to help lower parent’s stress and student’s confusion, now more than ever. I’m happy that the tutoring will continue in this part of Durham even after I leave for college and I’m confident in the skills that these children have grown in.

I come from a family of immigrants and I’ve seen firsthand how hesitant they are to go to a doctor. I remember when I was little, I used to be scared that if my mother went to a hospital then she could get deported. One day she was extremely sick and collapsed from the pain. I was terrified when we crossed those hospital doors. I stuck to my mother like glue; just waiting for the moment police men would walk in and take my mother away. I realized how false that thought process was when she came out feeling better. I want other families to understand it’s going to be okay before they figure it out at their worst. Undocumented people are more likely to be uninsured than other people, as they often work in low-wage jobs that do not provide insurance and some are ineligible to participate in insurance exchanges. Most undocumented immigrants experience poor health outcomes, mental health mostly, that could or will have long-term consequences. Healthcare providers need to consider the emotional and physical toll that being undocumented has on a patient and how their legal status makes them more hesitant to access healthcare. The only way to narrow down the reasons for this concern is by looking at current research and doing a qualitative study by getting immigrants to take a survey about the healthcare system. If I can get a way to get immigrants to take a survey about the healthcare system and use the data to support my solution then I can spread the word to influence change. The survey would need different variables. It should be taken in different areas of North Carolina and different locations; areas undocumented are most known for verse an area where undocumented aren’t as known for. Afterall, a diverse sample size leads to results being more widely applied to different groups. A finding of a uniform sample size cannot be applied to a diverse group. In medicine, you need a diverse sample size to consider more factors so the findings are more applicable. Undocumented immigrants could also further research! Being able to have more individuals willing to take part in trial studies would further scientific knowledge. An example would be undocumented immigrants who tested positive for covid would give their antibodies for scientists to study because they’re not afraid to. Until I know the percentage of what undocumented individuals consider the root of their fear, there isn’t a clean solution. There can be a change at a smaller level which would be educating specific immigrant communities on their rights to health care and how to access services. Another small change could be training providers to better understand the needs of their immigrant patients and providing them a translator to lessen their emotional stress. Bigger changes would be creating a state-funded insurance health plan for all residents, not just citizens. Another big change could be expanding health care overall regardless of citizenship status giving them full access to healthcare.

I am a Hispanic female and I am certain of that identity, but it wasn’t always like that. Growing up, I felt I had to choose if I was Hispanic or American because certain situations forced me to pick. As a young child, I only heard Spanish from my mother. My mother had issues to take care of so my father took me to Mexico to live with him for a couple of months. As I spent kindergarten in Mexico, the kids noticed a hint of an American accent when speaking Spanish. I struggled in school since I didn’t know how to write Spanish well. Kids thought I was dumb and bullied me; it didn’t help that I had a walking disability. When I came back to the U.S., I wanted to ignore my American heritage, so I muted my English; I only spoke in Spanish, even when asked a question in English. My mother had to hire a tutor to get me to speak English again. Slowly, I started to speak English again, but it was at the cost of my Hispanic identity. I lived my Hispanic culture everyday through food, clothes, and the language, yet it was frowned upon entering second grade. My teacher thought Hispanics were lazy and she assigned me extra work. At first, I thought it was work everyone was doing, but then I noticed it was only a couple of students who were also Hispanic. I didn’t understand what was wrong until my mother came to school angry. I decided to prove myself by studying harder and completing her extra work. Although she never apologized or admitted her faults, I was able to show her that not every Hispanic is a wild child who doesn’t do work. Eventually, I learned different backgrounds and cultures are okay. I learned that knowing two languages is something to be proud of because it connects me with more people. This is why I began tutoring Hispanic children in English. They need to appreciate their backgrounds while embracing their new environment, so they won’t face the same choice that I did. At first, helping kids was a mess. I didn’t know how to teach English or keep the child’s attention span. I had to research different methods and materials. I also started creating custom lesson plans for each student. It was a long process but I eventually figured it out. Once the awkward phrase passed, I was able to form strong friendships with the students and able to understand their strengths and weaknesses. I’ve grown attached to them and can’t wait to see their success. I dealt with my challenges by helping those who will face those challenges later in life. By tutoring others, it also allowed me to understand different studying methods which improved my academic performance. The pandemic hasn’t stopped me from helping these children. I’m still tutoring children but online instead. I’ll admit it was like starting all over again, because it harder to get a child’s attention and most students didn’t want to stare at a screen again when they just did it for seven hours. But, children in elementary in Hispanic households were at a disadvantage. I have had some trial and errors but I’ve mostly adapted to which methods to use and what resources which child needs. I was able to expand this service into a club so other classmates can help children learn since the pandemic has caused a greater amount of students to need help and I’m only one person. Most of the students are kids but I also have helped middle schoolers and high schoolers which are easier in my opinion since it’s homework help. This is very important to me because I wish I had this help and opportunity when I was younger so I’m glad I’m able to help lower parent’s stress and student’s confusion. As I’ve gotten closer to my students, I’ve also gotten closer to their parents. They have also taught me a lot. They taught me the importance of diversity in the healthcare system. Marginalized people have a distrust in doctors and the medical system because historically doctors experimented on them. For example, when doctors didn’t treat African-American men who had Syphilis because they wanted to see how the disease progressed. They discovered HeLa cells when they took cells from Henrietta Lacks without her permission and sterilized marginalized women without their consent (like what is happening to ICE detainees). We’re seeing it right now with the covid vaccines; people do not trust doctors. If there is more diversity in the medical field, more doctors who look like patients, it would make it a little easier for those people to trust the system again and get the medical attention they need. Inclusion and diversity is important to restore the trust that marginalized communities have lost. Undocumented people are more likely to be uninsured than other people, as they often work in low-wage jobs that do not provide insurance and some are ineligible to participate in insurance exchanges. Most undocumented immigrants experience poor health outcomes, mental health mostly, that could or will have long-term consequences. Healthcare providers need to consider the emotional and physical toll that being undocumented has on a patient and how their legal status makes them more hesitant to access healthcare. I plan to do my senior thesis on narrowing down the reasons for this concern is by looking at current research and doing a qualitative study by getting immigrants to take a survey about the healthcare system. This way I can have a better mindset on how to treat undocumented immigrants when I become a physician. Until I know the percentage of what undocumented individuals consider the root of their fear, there isn’t a clean solution.

When I asked my friends what covid has taught them, most of them responded with “family matters more than we thought” which I’ve always acknowledged (coming from a Hispanic household). Instead, I learned that self-care isn’t self-indulgence. Just eating junk food; just doing nothing but lay in bed; just not talking to anyone; just not going outside. School was my only outlet to be outside the house because my parents didn’t let me work and the house has an alarm that notifies my parents when I go out. I was a moderately active person; I did weightlifting and crosscountry. To go from doing sports 7 hours a week to sitting all day was a bigger deal than I thought. The first month of the pandemic didn’t get to me but slowly I started to lose all motivation to talk to anyone. I had to do chores in the morning and class but after that, I didn’t do anything. I gained so much weight from eating junk food but then I lost a lot of weight because my nonexistent motivation extended to meals. I forgot to eat or didn’t feel like eating. It wasn’t until I lost what I gained plus 15 pounds that I realized what I was doing wasn’t healthy. I started to exercise for 15 minutes everyday and build my endurance until I could exercise for an hour. This led me to eat healthier and decrease the amount of junk food I consumed. Eating correctly and exercising resulted in a better mood. I started playing with my sister again and being involved with my family more. I’ve acknowledged that I can’t help others if I don’t help myself first. It’s important to acknowledge that some activities that once felt unnecessary are essential to our health and equilibrium. Like Newton’s third law, for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction; a person could not exercise for a few months and focus that attention on other things but how would it affect physically and mentally? A self-care mindset will persist and firmly face any challenges that come. I feel stronger-mentally and physically. This helped me realized that if I want to be in Air Force ROTC then I need to get stronger in both ways. The pandemic has shown me that I don’t need people to exercise. I kept stating excuses that “I’ll do it tomorrow” or “I’ll facetime a friend and we can do it together” when I knew they would probably be busy. This was a period of growth for me. To acknowledge my weaknesses in every area and work on them. Self-care is loving yourself by making wise choices -the hard choices- over periods of time. What I did with my laziness and eating habitats was self-indulgence; it gave me positive emotions at first, but it was quickly replaced with self-hate over a long period of time. These new eating habits and exercise routines will help me live a longer and happier life. It will make it easier for me to keep up with my shipmates when I enter ROTC and do basic trainings in the summer. It is extremely important now that I am heading to college and will have myself to depend on.

As a second-generation immigrant, one thing I noticed is that our parents suffer from this disease -of expecting us to be extraordinary fantastic. They place these high expectations that make us feel that what we do isn’t enough; grades, test scores, dreams, etc. My mother often tells me that when she was my age she worked and was able to maintain herself while taking care of her siblings. She tells me that I shouldn’t be stressed because all I do is study and take care of the house which is almost nothing compared to what she did. I love my mother but because she doesn’t understand the American system I’ve had to study twice as hard and proceed with caution so I wouldn’t get her in trouble in any shape or form (especially when it came to college). There is this fear that any step I do, she could get deported. My doctor told me I might have anxiety and my mother’s told my stepfather in front of me that “kids these days are very delicate! Maybe I should give her more chores or make her work with me so she doesn’t have time to feel anxious”. She then proceeds to tell our neighbors about how she “cured” me by getting a dog. When in reality, staying home all day decreased my anxiety. School was my outlet from being stuck in the house so it was no surprise that during the pandemic I lost 25 pounds. I had to start making exercise a part of my routine to increase my hunger since my mother doesn’t believe in mental illnesses. I know medicine is what I want to do because of the classes and internships I’ve done. One question I was asked in my college essays was what would I do my senior thesis on. I wrote about figuring out why immigrants hesitant when it comes to the healthcare system. Afterall, I see it in my community and have experienced it with my mother. Undocumented people are more likely to be uninsured than other people, as they often work in low-wage jobs that do not provide insurance and some are ineligible to participate in insurance exchanges. Most undocumented immigrants experience poor health outcomes, especially in mental health, that could or will have long-term consequences. Healthcare providers need to consider the emotional and physical toll that being undocumented has on a patient and how their legal status makes them more hesitant to reach or access healthcare. The only way to narrow down the reasons for this concern is by research and social experiments. If immigrants could take a survey about the healthcare system and use the data to support my solution then I can help create change. Until I know the percentage of what undocumented individuals consider the root of their fear, there isn’t a clean solution. There can be a change at a smaller level or bigger changes (state-funded insurance health plan for all residents, not just citizens).

Up until junior year, I thought that if I ever wanted to achieve higher education I would have to join the military. My parents told me that they will not contribute to my college education so my first response was to join the army. I didn’t think I was eligible for student loans because both my parents weren’t American citizens. I really wanted to go to college straight from high school because an internship from UNC-Chapel Hill opened my eyes to my love of biophysics; more specifically cellular biology when it comes to medical research. Although the military is great for learning life skills; I had my heart set on a college but I knew the sad reality. It wasn’t until a pretty nasty argument with my mother that I broke down. My teacher asked what was wrong and I told her that I only have two options; go straight into a manual labor job or join the military. She proved me wrong when she gave me resources that stated that I could still apply for student loans, it would just be a long process and more verification work, but I was really happy that there was still hope. My mother, on the other hand, was extremely furious because she didn’t trust my word; she was scared that this would just end up with her deported or if there a chance that it was real, then scared it wouldn’t give me enough money to finish my education. She was going to send me to with my biological father and hoped I learned my lesson by the time I finished my senior year. Thankfully, my stepfather was able to talk her out of it and get her to read the resources my teacher provided; she decided to trust me. That very same teacher helped me through the college progress. She helped me edit my essays and give me advice on what to focus on when it came to picking a college. She told me scholarships were “free money” and how to apply to them. She showed me how to create a resume. She showed me the different benefits of both public and private schools. She took the time to show me skills and resources that would help me succeed. I learned how to better edit my essays, I learned to better organize myself (especially when it came to scholarships because there are so many websites with different requirements or topics), I learned how to write in a concise way when it came to the personal statement, I learned how to research places and programs. The most important thing I learned was that it’s better to overanalyze the situation than to not be prepared. I applied to every scholarship and program I could to make sure college was accessible because my parents made it clear that I was on my own. At first, it was overwhelming and terrible because I was applying to so many scholarships and getting rejected so it felt like I was putting in so much hard work for nothing. My teacher told me that rejection was hard but that it would pay off in the long run. She pushed me to keep applying and to keep fighting for my dreams. It’s because I had this teacher’s support that I can proudly say that I am going to UNC-Chapel Hill this fall with the Chancellor’s Science Scholars Program Scholarship which cut my cost of attendance to a price where I won’t have to get student loans. I’ll be able to pay for tuition with the part-time job I have. Although I was able to achieve paying for college without student loans, I still tell my Hispanic-American community that higher education is possible. One of the students I tutor is a rising high school sophomore who was also on the same boat as me, thinking that student loans weren’t an option; I was able to educate him and open up possibilities that education is something achievable. I was able to share some of my knowledge with him; especially on getting started on creating a resume with clubs, sports, internships, employment, or even awards that he has done. I was also able to tell my mother’s friend’s daughter who is a rising junior that she is eligible as well. I’m offering help in my community because I was able to achieve my dream with the help of my teacher. I’m sharing these lessons with the students I tutor and their parents. This teacher is my role model because she could have just given me the resources and left me to figure it out but she took time out of school to teach me skills to succeed and I admire her for that.

Friendships come in all shapes and sizes. I have a friendship where we support and accept each other but it wasn’t alway like that. I didn’t completely trust her with everything my sophomore year. She is very religious and I didn’t feel comfortable with her knowing I was bisexual until I had a clear answer on what her perspective was on same-sex relationships. I had a crush on a female classmate at the time and I mentioned it to another friend of mine; who decided to mention it to my lovely religious friend. I already was having a bad day because I had a mini argument with my mother about the number of chores I was doing around the house weren’t enough. I also failed a math exam and when I asked to go over it with my teacher she either didn’t understand what I didn’t understand or kept saying the material was easy; it didn’t help that I experienced this right before my religious friend confronted me. I wasn’t a closed closet person but I didn’t announce to anyone that I was Bi except very few friends. So I enter my period and I hear this yell saying “you like girls? Why didn’t you say anything?” Everyone turns to look at us and I look like a deer caught in the highlights. I told her I didn’t think it was important. She starts making a huge deal out of it, so I told her the truth about how I wanted to wait until I knew her perspective on the matter because I’ve had negative reactions from friends in the past who held religion close to their hearts. She says then “why are you gay?” and I know my friend well. I understand her body language and the meaning behind her words. She never really had friends who stuck around long (as in a year max) and her household is very traditional so she never got exposed to these types of relationships. She wasn’t saying it out of malicious but out of confusion. She was hurt I didn’t trust her. One thing people tend to do to hide their feelings is to lash out; which she did. She started making a bigger commotion and it was starting to attract attention from people in the hallway and classrooms. At this point, I was starting to feel frustrated and upset at the stares I was getting from my peers. Then this girl speaks up. This girl who I always found kinda intimidating because she was the principal’s daughter, extremely intelligent, and had a blunt straightforward personality. She tells my friend that is she is also bisexual and that she understands why I woudn’t say anything if this was how she was going to react. She proceed to tell my friend that she shouldn’t be yelling that I’m bi where everyone can hear and to try to have a conversation when she was calm. She then turns to the classroom and tells everyone to mind their own business. As she does this I just stare in awe with my mouth open. That kindest meant so much to me. It made me feel better about myself and it made my day less horrible. My friend followed her advice. We had a conversation later where she apologized and wanted to know more about me in that aspect. Although I didn’t become friends with the principal’s daughter, I have a lot of respect towards her.

There was once this teenager named Janette who lived in Mexico. She had 7 brothers and sisters who lived in a three-room house. She had to get up at 4 am to do chores then go to school and come back just to take care of her siblings as if they were own. She had a dream to study either study medicine or engineering. By the time she was 17, she knew that dream would never come true because they barely had enough money for essentials let alone education. Her mother always said “en que te va servir los estudios? Trabaja y pon dinero en la mesa”. That was the moment she knew she wouldn’t have a future in Mexico and with all her courage and hope she crossed the border -all alone and with no knowledge of the English language. Fast forward a few years, Janette fell in love with a man who was very nice -for a few months. When they got married, he turned into a vicious monster. He verbally abused her. He called her useless. He repeatedly told her that she needed him. He constantly monitored her: phone, workplace, etc. No matter what happened, she was always to blame. When she became pregnant, he became physically aggressive and when there was an argument he would leave for two weeks. It wasn’t until he was going to hit Janette that she grabbed her bags and left. She raised Gabby alone. She lifted herself up. At first, she had to skip a few meals to feed her child but eventually, she was able to work two jobs to afford food. After a few months, she was able to afford a one-room trailer. Slowly life got better. She never could follow her dreams but she made sure to work hard to provide the materials for her little girl to follow hers. The little girl slowly grew up and worked alongside her mother. On weekends Gabby would help her mother clean offices and made sure to stick to her studies on weekdays. Her mother always emphasized to remember the hard work that brought you to where you are now. Her mother didn’t allow her to get a job in high school, unless it was cleaning with her, because she wanted to make sure she put her education first. Janette only finished middle school and had no educational knowledge to help her daughter. Gabby had to work twice as hard in her studies because she had no outside support. But it wasn’t all that bad because she has emotional support and the lessons her mother gave her were irreplaceable. We didn’t have the best life, but my mother gave me an opportunity to grow where she couldn’t. It’s because of my mother’s struggles and late nights that I was very understanding of how important education is. She even searched out a STEM-based high school because my base school had very low ratings. That’s where I found my passion; medicine. She allowed me room to really focus on my education and even encouraged me to apply to an internship when I didn’t think I would get in. That internship made me realize that I would love to learn more about biophysics, more specifically PD-1 and PD-L1 protein interactions in healthy cells verse tumor cells, in college. I got accepted into UNC-Chapel Hill and was even admitted into the Chancellor’s Science Scholars Program; my mother cried tears of joy. I’m very thankful for everything my mother has done for me and I wouldn’t be who I am today without her.

I’ve had bad experiences: bullied, sexually assaulted, mentally and emotionally abused, but I didn’t struggle mentally until I grew older and the tipping point was my friend dying. When I lived in France for a year, I was often outcasted, accidentally or on purpose, by teachers and peers. Some teachers didn’t want to deal with my language barrier and often told me to not do the homework. My peers didn’t want to start a conversation just to end up struggling to understand what I was trying to say. Although I did have some exchange student classes to learn French, a majority of my classes were with French-speaking students. Then one day, a boy named Hugo decided to give me a chance. We were extremely close for a pair of goofy teenagers with a language barrier. He knew a bit of English but somehow we made it work. He pushed me academically and made me be a better version of myself. I was extremely happy for those five months. I guess it was because I was really happy that I wanted to ignore the signs. When he stretched his shirt rose up and I saw dark spots across his stomach and back. His arms and legs were clean of any bruises so I thought I imagined it. But his attitude towards adults, as if they were going to hurt him any second, concerned me. I asked him about the bruises, but he brushed them off with getting injured in his sports. My friend didn’t want to go home one day and asked me to stay longer but I promised my father to be home early. I told him I would return his book tomorrow and I promised to make it up to him by buying ice cream. He didn’t come the next day. Or the day after that. Or a week. By the second week, a teacher told the class he wasn’t coming back. I investigated on my own and it turns out his father abused him to death. This caused me to spiral. I was miserable and angry at the world. I cut class. I was quiet. I didn’t attempt to speak to the other French students. I became an unrecognizable person. A part of me wanted to disappear. When I came back to the United States a couple of months later, I didn’t even realize I packed his book. When I saw that book, I stared at it for hours. He would’ve been devasted that I cut myself off from the world like that; I did better. I pushed myself academically like he used to. I made friends even if I didn’t want to. He would always complain that I was a couch potato so I decided to see what was fun about exercising and joined cross country. Turns out, I love to run. It made me happier. Fast forward to high school, in gym class, we had a mental health unit and a topic was sexual assault. I still remember what the kid wore and how the scene played out all those years ago. I didn’t tell my mother because I didn’t want her to blame herself and a part of me still thought it was my fault. The teacher emphasized that he was here for us. I was going to ignore that and pretend I was okay, pretend I didn’t remember, but if Hugo was honest and if he had reached out then he would still be alive. So, I didn’t want to run from my problem. I wanted to know if somehow it was my fault even though I was a child. Turns out it wasn’t and a huge weight was lifted off my shoulders. My teacher held me as I cried and made sure that the person wasn’t in contact with me still. I was able to grow. I was able to heal. I know the signs to look for and because of that, I was able to recognize that a friend of mine was mentally unstable behind his smile. I was able to get him help and stop him from planning his suicide. I'm thankful to have met Hugo.

Before the pandemic, I was decently active. I did weightlifting my sophomore year. In my junior year, I did crosscountry in the fall and weightlifting in the winter and spring. I was also part of a military program named the United States Naval Sea Cadet Corps since sophomore year. I exercised enough to pass my PT tests and overall be in good standing with my health. After the pandemic, I stopped exercising altogether. My neighborhood didn’t have sidewalks so I didn’t run. I wasn’t near a gym so I didn’t exercise. I used excuses instead of finding solutions. I gained 15 pounds and lost motivation to do everyday activities. I told myself that I’ll find motivation to exercise one day but it wasn’t anytime soon. It wasn’t until I got a job carrying boxes of items that I realized how unfit and unhappy I was. I did weightlifting because I like feeling strong and running gave me energy to do everyday activities such as errands, focus on homework/studying, chores, etc. Seeing how unfit I was also showed me how unrealistic my future goals were if I didn’t start doing something soon. I have two goals; to become a physician and to do four years of ROTC in college. If I wanted to be in good form for ROTC then I would have to start working out. It wasn’t about finding motivation but remaining resilient. Motivation comes and goes but being stubborn enough to achieve my goal would remain in the back of my mind. Since I was beginning all over again, I started off with one Chole Ting video. I remained with the video for two weeks. Then I was able to go from one video to three. After Chloe Ting’s videos felt manageable I went to PopSugar fitness Tabata sessions. I combined four types of videos; PopSugar, grey and orange, nobadadditicon, and be military fit videos. Four days ago, I decided I was at a comfortable level with the videos and decided to add a two-mile run at the beginning before working out. As long as I ran in the opposite direction of cars and stayed on the side, then I could run. I’m glad I stopped putting excuses and decided to act on a plan. My weightlifting coach once said “pain is temporary and limits one’s ability to be better” and I couldn’t agree more. I can feel the difference from the beginning of when I stopped working out to now. I am back to normal weight and have more energy in the day. I am in a better mood because I have more energy. My sister asks to read stories and play with her which I now say yes to. At work, I am able to lift boxes of items with more ease and have the ability to move furniture with other people. I’m more likely to text people back now and call just to see how one’s doing. Fitness is more than just a healthy lifestyle.

As I grew up I got in trouble with my mother plenty of times for not walking normally. I couldn’t touch my toes and it hurt to walk for long periods of time but I always thought that was normal. My mother thought walking abnormally was cute when I was a toddler but she didn’t find it as cute when I grew older. She would tell me to walk normally and I would...for a while and then I would start to walk abnormally again. She always assumed I did it for fun but one time she was furious and yelled at me, I broke down saying I’m trying but I can’t. The next day, she made a doctor’s appointment; the date was on my birthday. One half of me was scared that there wasn’t going to be anything wrong with me and the doctors would just see me as another brat seeking attention. The other half was relieved that if something was wrong with me then I’ll be able to walk without getting stared at. After a series of failed tests, the doctors told us my plantaris tendon didn’t stretch properly causing a strain when my calcaneus hit the floor. He stated that because I did this for years, my body just eventually got used to it. The doctor told us I needed surgery if I wanted to walk normally because years of therapy wouldn’t work; there was a 25 percent chance that my tendon could snap but we still agreed. I was in a wheelchair for a month and then on crutches for about four months. Afterward, they gave me a boot thing to put over my shoes for a month and afterward I was free. I thought it would magically fix everything but it didn’t. It felt weird walking and even weirder to run. I still wasn’t flexible and I still felt useless because I couldn’t keep up with my friends when walking. I tried yoga and exercises for a month, but I was an impatient child. I gave up because I thought it was like carrying water to the sea, like shutting the stable door after the horse has bolted, completely pointless. I come from a family of immigrants where I thought that if I ever wanted a higher education then I would have to join the military. So I was going to do just that. I visited my father for a week in the summer and told him I was going to join the military. He said they wouldn’t want someone like me. I didn’t understand so I asked him to expand on that. He said they wouldn’t want someone with my disability, someone who is “broken”. This led me to work even harder to be comfortable doing basic exercises and stretches. My high school didn’t offer a JROTC program but I joined a program named United States Naval Sea Cadet Corps. I felt like I was getting the educational support but not the physical support I needed so I joined weightlifting and then cross country. I got stronger and was physically better. It didn’t feel like a burden to work out anymore and I am now able to touch my toes. It’s not until junior year that I found out I can apply to FAFSA. Even if my parents aren’t citizens, I am. So I applied and I worked extremely hard to get scholarships. It turns out my hard work paid off because I got a scholarship at UNC-Chapel Hill. I’m going to do air force ROTC because I still want to improve. I want to continue to work out and push past my physical limits because I still struggle in flexibility. Additionally, I know I want to major in biomedical sciences. I find the human body very fascinating; it’s very complex. I think it’s interesting how much we rely on our body’s function for our existence and pleasure, but few people know anything about it. I want to be a physician and at first, I didn’t know what specific field but looking back at all my struggles and limitations, I want to be a physical therapist. I want to help improve people’s quality of life; improve their movement and manage their pain. Thank you for reading my story.

A true mother would do everything for her child to be safe and have the essentials they need to grow up. My favorite movie is Wolf Children. The movie is incredible at portraying people's behavior: both city and countryside life in Japan, the way children act, the way elderly people act and sometimes talk crudely and unclearly, and everything else. Hana (the mother) is such a lovable character! What really spoke to me in Wolf Children is that Hana feels incredibly real. All the burden she had to endure just for her children to live a better life is something really else. My biological father was very mentally, emotionally, and sometimes physically abusive so my mother divorced him and had to raise me by herself. This movie showed how rough it is for single mothers and how we need to appreciate the sacrifices they have done for us. The fact that Hana isn't a typical protagonist but rather a realistic one whose amazing strengths as a character are much more subtle was a very respectable writing choice. There were two main messages in this story. Life isn't dramatic, it's a bunch of events that happen and that's it. One day you wake up to find that things are different, but there's no use tracing the lines for the root of the change and there's no use trying to upset the universe. Throughtout the sacrifices, Hana allows her children to follow their own path even if she doesn't approve. It shows how mothers need to, painfully but necessarily let go of their children to chase their own futures. At the beginning I had expectations of where each child would grow into but it wasn't the case at all; life is unpredictable and what we think we want isn't what we need.

I am a Latina but I have had more privileges than others in my community. I’ve acknowledged that just because I have these advances doesn’t mean I shouldn’t help those around me. I want to help those who don’t have these opportunities and inspire them to fight. Our parents brought us into this country to give us possibilities they didn’t have and we should take advantage of it. Diversity is a part of me and that won’t change but there were times when I wanted to ignore it. Growing up, I felt I had to choose if I was Hispanic or American because certain situations forced me to pick. Eventually, I learned different backgrounds and cultures are okay. I learned that knowing two languages is something to be proud of because it connects me with more people. This is why I began tutoring Hispanic children in English. In the beginning, it was mostly helping students with their homework. The first time I taught someone the basics of English, I was completely unprepared and the four-year-old girl had a short attention span -two bad combinations. I had to research how to teach someone English and the library employee taught me some methods. I wasn’t on teaching duty until two months after that incident but it was significantly better. The pandemic hasn’t stopped me from helping these children. Schools were moving to zoom so it was easy to get parents on the same page on which app to use. The students I tutored last year didn’t reach out again, so I made a poster and posted them on social media like Facebook and Nextdoor. The library employee that previously helped me also spread the message around. I underestimated how much students needed help. Children in elementary school in Hispanic households were at a disadvantage; I could see it in my neighborhood and the amount of parents that reached out were slowly piling up into a hill. My hours extended to any day of the week after 4 pm, but I had to leave some times to take care of my house responsibilities and homework. I knew I needed help, so I reached out to my school advisors for Spanish National Honors Society and National Honors Society to recruit other students. They gave permission to send out an email stating the purpose of what I do and how they could benefit from this experience. Once I had classmates who were interested in this opportunity, I had to train them. I gave them websites I typically used and taught them how to use them. I gave them a sheet that consisted of questions for different grade levels. I made sure to explain that not all students learn the same way so if a student isn’t understanding then try another method I listed. Overall, I had (or in few cases -have) some trial and errors but I’ve mostly adapted to which methods to use and what resources which child needs. I’ve grown attached to them and can’t wait to see their success. I dealt with my challenges by helping those who will face those challenges later in life. I am glad to help my community when they need it. I come from a family of immigrants and I’ve seen firsthand how hesitant they are to go to a doctor. I remember when I was little, I used to be scared that if my mother went to a hospital then she could get deported. One day she was extremely sick and collapsed from the pain. I realized how false that thought process was when she came out feeling better. I want other families to understand it’s going to be okay before they figure it out at their worst; however it’s not just immigrants who have problems with the system. Marginalized people have a distrust in doctors and the medical system because historically doctors experimented on them. For example, when doctors didn’t treat African-American men who had Syphilis because they wanted to see how the disease progressed. They discovered HeLa cells when they took cells from Henrietta Lacks without her permission and sterilized marginalized women without their consent (like what is happening to ICE detainees). We’re seeing it right now with the covid vaccines; people do not trust doctors. If there is more diversity in the medical field, more doctors who look like patients, it would make it a little easier for those people to trust the system again and get the medical attention they need. Inclusion and diversity is important to restore the trust that marginalized communities have lost. I want to become a physician to help my community. It won’t solve the problem but it would be a step.

I am a Hispanic female and I am certain of that identity, but it wasn’t always like that. Growing up, I felt I had to choose if I was Hispanic or American because certain situations forced me to pick. As a young child, I only heard Spanish from my mother. My mother had issues to take care of so my father took me to Mexico to live with him for a couple of months. As I spent kindergarten in Mexico, the kids noticed a hint of an American accent when speaking Spanish. I like Mexico but one thing people tend to do over there is judge each other without knowing the full story. I struggled in school since I didn’t know how to write Spanish well. Kids thought I was dumb and bullied me. When I came back to the U.S., I wanted to ignore my American heritage, so I muted my English; I only spoke in Spanish, even when asked a question in English. My grades suffered greatly because I didn’t want to speak. My mother had to hire a tutor to get me to speak English again. Slowly, I started to speak English again, but it was at the cost of my Hispanic identity. I lived my Hispanic culture everyday through food, clothes, and the language, yet it was frowned upon entering second grade. My teacher thought Hispanics were lazy and she assigned me extra work. At first, I thought it was work everyone was doing, but then I noticed it was only a couple of students who were also Hispanic. I didn’t understand what was wrong until my mother came to school angry. I decided to prove myself by studying harder and completing her extra work. I didn’t do great academically at first but I improved and pushed myself. Although she never apologized or admitted her faults, I was able to show her that not every Hispanic is a wild child who doesn’t do work. Eventually, I learned different backgrounds and cultures are okay. I learned that knowing two languages is something to be proud of because it connects me with more people. This is why I began tutoring Hispanic children in English. They need to appreciate their backgrounds while embracing their new environment, so they won’t face the same choice that I did. Before the pandemic, I tutored Hispanic children at South Regional Library every Monday from 5 to 6:30 pm. I got permission from my coach to miss practice every Monday because I found it disrespectful to go straight from practice to the library since I would be smelly. One of the employees and a friend of mine helped. The library employee mostly helped little kids who needed help with the basics of English, while my friend and I helped kids with homework. The first time I taught someone the basics of English, I was completely unprepared and she had a short attention span. I had to research how to teach someone English and the library employee taught me some methods. I wasn’t on teaching duty until two months after that incident but it was significantly better. I lost the student’s attention within forty minutes but they understood, so I counted it as a win. The pandemic hasn’t stopped me from helping these children. I’m still tutoring children but online instead. I reached out to the person who had been helping me to see if there was a way to continue tutoring. She told me to move it online. Schools were moving to zoom so it was easy to get parents on the same page on which app to use. The students I tutored last year didn’t reach out again, so I made a poster and posted them on social media like Facebook and Nextdoor. She also spread the message around. I underestimated how much students needed help. Children in elementary school in Hispanic households were at a disadvantage; I could see it in my neighborhood. My hours extended to any day of the week after 4 pm, but I had to leave some times to take care of my house responsibilities and homework. I knew I needed help, so I reached out to my school advisors for Spanish National Honors Society and National Honors Society to recruit other students. They gave permission to send out an email stating the purpose of what I do and how they could benefit from this experience. Once I had classmates who were interested in this opportunity, I had to train them. I gave them websites I typically used and taught them how to use them. I gave them a sheet that consisted of questions for different grade levels. I made sure to explain that not all students learn the same way so if a student isn’t understanding then try another method I listed. Overall, I had (or in some cases -have) some trial and errors but I’ve mostly adapted to which methods to use and what resources which child needs. I’ve grown attached to them and can’t wait to see their success. I dealt with my challenges by helping those who will face those challenges later in life. I am glad to help my community when they need it. What change do I want to see? Well, I want there to be more help for those that have a barrier -whether it's due to money or language- for free. Those that seek knowledge and want to better themselves should have the opportunity to do so. You never know who will create a solution to problems such as cancer just because someone took the time to teach them the basics.

This is Gonzo. He is 9 months old. He likes to chew EVERYTHING. New toys cannot last a week before he somehow chews through them! This one lasted the most by a total of 4 days. Trust me when I say he doesn't bite, just chew \(^~^)/ @gabrielac140

There isn’t an individual that hasn’t experience rejection in some shape or form. The most common ones are rejection from jobs, internships, colleges, and many more physical places. The most hurtful is the dismissal of one’s emotion called social rejection; it can be peer or romantic rejection. I’ve experienced a more speific social rejection; a familial estrangement. When my parents divorced I thought nothing of the situation. I knew I loved both and thought that’s all I needed. My mother eventually met someone and I loved the guy. As I grew older I saw how much my mother’s boyfriend was a better father figure but still wanted my biological father to have the title of dad. Children are expensive and my biological father didn’t pay anything for me; clothes, medicine, school supplies, not even child support yet my mother’s boyfriend did. I cared a great deal about my biological father’s opinion. Although I didn’t see him a lot, I remember how scared I was whenever he got angry but I would quickly forget it once he was happy again. Children are extremely biased because they view the world in an innocent light; they don’t have the full backstory of the situation. I felt safer with my step-father han my dad but I shrugged it off. I was thankful my stepfather gave me his love and paid for my everyday needs. I didn’t mind my father’s anger or his inability to take care of me financially. I didn’t mind but he did something that I could never forget. I walked differently than how a child is suppose to walk like. My mother dismissed it as being silly or wanting attention. One day she got very angry, shouted “walk normal. Stop with the games. I’ll send you with your father if you continue”. I broke down; cried and cried my heart out, trying to explain I was trying. The doctor said I needed surgery to correct the situation but there was a twenty-five percent risk that the surgery could result in the inability to walk ever again. I wanted to try and the surgery was set for a year later. I asked my father if he could come and he promised he would. Three months before the surgery I get a call from him saying he couldn’t come. He said he didn’t have any money. If he had stopped at that sentence then I would have understood even to this day. Instead he said he didn’t have any money and he was going to get married that week. As a kid, I thought a wedding sounded cooler than a surgery and told him I understood. Now, I understand why my mother was angry when he said that. It’s not until after the surgery that I understood that anger. But I found something better, my actual father figure who never left my side. I understood who my real family was and they helped me get back on my feet. My biological father was emotionally abusive at times and his rejection caused me to stop worrying about what he thinks and says. It taught me that he doesn’t have the ability to control my life. Before high school, I thought about the military. My father is a veteran and said I couldn’t do it. My school didn’t offer JROTC so I went into a program called US Naval Sea Cadet Corps and stuck with it. I’m doing ROTC in college because I like it and I’ll do it even if my father says I can’t. My dad (step-father) said I could do it and even drove me to the military base just to remind me that he believes in me. My father calls me from time to time to see if I want to work in his business and babysit his five children but I have the courage to say no. I’m not completely okay, I get nervous when someone raises their voice and I doubt myself so much but I remind myself I have family to go to and who love me. My father’s rejection was a redirection to family. It’s something better and I won’t say it’s bigger because it’s only my mother, my dad, my little sister, and I, but I would like to think quality over quantity has a better value in this case.