From the moment I stepped into my first healthcare class in middle school, I knew this was where I belonged. There was something in the way science met humanity; how knowledge, skill, and compassion could change the course of a person’s life, that pulled me in completely. I’ve always carried a deep need to help others, not just in the easy moments, but in the moments where everything feels like it’s falling apart. In high school, I took CNA and Med Aide courses, eager to start early. My first job in a nursing home opened my eyes to what real caregiving looked like: the quiet resilience of patients, the long hours of dedication, and the way small acts of kindness could mean everything. I found a community of other young women with the same fire I had; we pushed each other, supported each other, and refused to give up on our dreams of becoming nurses. When I was accepted into the nursing program at Central Community College, I was both thrilled and terrified. Nursing school tested me in every way: late nights, endless studying, emotional exhaustion, but I was never alone. My friends became my backbone. We celebrated together, we cried together, and when one of us faced loss, we stood beside her without hesitation. And then it happened to me. One night after a long study session, I went to meet my boyfriend. Instead, I found him lifeless. That moment will never leave me. The silence. The shock. The way the world seemed to stop. The first responders arrived quickly, their calm and professionalism cutting through the chaos. They couldn’t save him, but they left an indelible mark on me. They showed me that even when you can’t change the outcome, you can change how someone experiences the worst moment of their life. In the days and weeks that followed, my friends, my instructors, and my workplace became my lifeline. They surrounded me with empathy, counseling, and encouragement until I could stand again. I graduated with my LPN and began working in a hospital, where I saw the full scope of what nursing could be. I witnessed the precision of critical care teams, the quiet strength of those who work in life-and-death moments, and the way a steady, compassionate presence can mean as much as any medication. That’s when I knew. I want to be a intensive critical care nurse. I want to be in the rooms where seconds matter, where lives can be saved, and where compassion matters just as much as skill. I want to bring the professionalism I saw that night, the empathy I have lived, and the determination I have built to every patient I encounter. Nursing isn’t just a career for me; it’s a calling born from both passion and pain. I know what it’s like to be on the other side of tragedy, and I want to be the nurse who helps people survive it, or at the very least, helps them feel seen, supported, and never alone.

My parents came to the United States at an early age. Leaving their homes behind with nothing but the clothes on their back. They met when my mother was 17 and my father 16. Not much later they became parents and had to fight tooth and nail not only for their American Dream, but their dream to have a child that wouldn’t have to face as much as they did in their home country. As a child I always saw my parents struggle. Making ends meet paycheck to paycheck. I knew we were never financially stable when my father had “twisted” his foot, but refused to seek medical help. After days of excruciating pain he went and got it checked out and turned out his foot was broken. Now my fathers broken foot wasn’t what made me want to pursue nursing at first, but for the fact my 8 year old self had to translate to my parents what the x-ray tech was telling them. With the sorrow look of the lady seeming to understand the shoes I had was the time I understood what underrepresentation meant. 5.4% Is just a statistic that could mean nothing to anybody, but this statistic means the most to me. 5.4% is the percentage of Latina women in the nursing profession. As a child, I always wanted to help others, and there were many careers I could have chosen, but I chose nursing. Going to the doctor was never easy for my parents and I, but you know the first person you see is a nurse. That first interaction could either make or break it, depending on the compassion of the nurse and her understanding. Growing up with a voice that was silenced due to the lack of cohesion and flow. I have learned to understand and be compassionate for others as those nurses taught me vicariously. When I was 15 years old I decided I would get my CNA as soon as I turned 16. Through my job, I have learned to not only love my residents for who they are, but to love myself for what I do. Nursing helps me connect with those who are at their most vulnerable. Not only that, but it helps me be their advocate. Advocacy isn’t just for patients, but for the rest of the 5.4%. Through high school, many of my friends and I talked about our dreams in healthcare, but we knew that the chance of them becoming true wasn't going to be the easiest. Having parents who never went to college, it was up to me to pave my path. I understand how difficult it is, not only for my Latino community, but for other young teens aspiring to be in healthcare. I hope to advocate that it isn't impossible and that we can use our strengths and skills to make our communities stronger and healthier. Step-by-step and dream-by-dream I will become the nurse I hope to be and aspire to show others that the impossible can be possible.

5.4% is what diversity means to me. Now, this is just a statistic that could mean nothing to anybody, but this statistic means the most to me. 5.4% is the percentage of Latina women in the nursing profession. As a child, I always wanted to help others, and there were many careers I could have chosen, but I chose nursing. I didn't just choose nursing for the heck of it, but for the fact that I spent my youngest years in and out of the hospital. Going to the doctor was always scary, but you know the first person you see is a nurse. That first interaction could either make or break it, depending on the compassion of the nurse and her understanding. Growing up with a voice that was silenced by most, I have learned to understand and be compassionate for others, as those nurses taught me vicariously. Those nurses may have thought I was just another kid with a sickness, but they never made me feel any less. Nursing helps me connect with those who are at their most vulnerable. Not only that, but it helps me be their advocate. Advocacy isn’t just for patients, but for the rest of the 5.4%. Living in a rural area I understood how difficult it is to find healthcare or for the matter a healthcare advocate willing to stand up for you. I plan to continue working in Nebraska after my graduation to not help my community, but to show many more young teens it is possible. Through high school, many of my friends and I talked about our dreams in healthcare, but we knew that the chance of them becoming true wasn't going to be the easiest. Having parents who never went to college, it was up to me to pave my path. I understand how difficult it is, not only for my Latino community, but for other young teens, moms and even grandmothers aspiring to be in healthcare. I hope to advocate that it isn't impossible and that we can use our strengths and skills to make our communities stronger and healthier. Step-by-step and dream-by-dream I will become the nurse I hope to be and aspire to show others that the impossible can be possible. Too many doors have been closed shut for me and I believe it is time I begin opening them and not just for myself, but for my peers.