My to-do list has always started the same way: make sure my mom’s time—however long—is peaceful and worth living. While many lose loved ones without warning, I’ve lived for years with the quiet awareness of my mom’s illness. That awareness has shaped how I see the world: with urgency, tenderness, and a deep sense of responsibility. My mom was diagnosed with Stage IV Splenic and Nodal Marginal Zone Lymphoma when I was thirteen. She was in her early forties, facing a rare cancer most common in people decades older. The diagnosis came after years of unanswered questions, unexplained fatigue, and medical uncertainty. Suddenly, our lives were reshaped around chemotherapy schedules, treatment side effects, and quiet moments of fear we didn’t know how to name. While my friends worried about school dances and weekend plans, I became the household planner, caretaker, cook, sister, and student. I wasn’t just helping—I was holding everything together. I stood beside my mom during infusions, wrapped her in blankets when she shivered, and helped her stand when her legs gave out. When she relapsed during the pandemic, I drove her to appointments and watched her weigh the risks of treatment against the dangers of COVID-19. But my mom is still here. She is in remission. And she is strong. Watching her navigate the healthcare system has taught me that illness doesn’t exist in a vacuum. It exists within a web of systems—insurance policies, hospital access, transportation limitations, housing instability. I’ve seen how people like my mom, already dealing with something as consuming as cancer, are also asked to navigate complex systems to simply survive. That’s why I want to become a Medicaid lawyer. I want to advocate for families like mine—families who are doing everything right and still struggling to access the care they need. I want to build a future where people aren’t denied treatments, medications, or dignity because of their zip code or income level. This scholarship would allow me to continue my studies in public health and law, building the foundation I need to specialize in Medicaid policy and health equity. I want to help patients and caregivers navigate complicated systems without losing hope, time, or care along the way. My mom never asked me to grow up quickly, but I did. And through it all, she showed me how to be resilient, how to love without condition, and how to keep going even when things feel uncertain. She didn’t just shape the person I am—she shaped the kind of lawyer I want to become. And I’m building this future not because I’ve overcome something alone, but because we’ve survived it together.

My research interests are deeply rooted in addressing health inequities, social determinants of health, social justice, and human rights. As a Human Behavior Research Assistant at the Gillings School of Global Public Health, I have conducted in-depth analysis of smoke-free air law implementation in public housing. This research has highlighted the disproportionate impact of tobacco use on low-income and minority communities, emphasizing the need for equitable public health policies. Through my work, I have explored how income disparities and tobacco retailer density contribute to higher smoking rates and poorer health outcomes in marginalized populations. By creating accessible resources for the Equity in Tobacco Control Website, I aim to make current legislation more understandable and actionable for the public, thereby promoting health equity. My role as a Health Policy Intern at the North Carolina Collaboratory has further solidified my commitment to social justice. By researching county-specific opioid settlement funding spending plans, I have contributed to the N.C. Opioid and Substance Use Action Plan Dashboard. This project helps visualize state, regional, and county-level progress, ensuring that resources are allocated effectively to address substance use disorders, which disproportionately affect vulnerable communities. Working as a Muscular Dystrophy Aide has given me firsthand insight into the daily struggles and triumphs of individuals with disabilities. My responsibilities include administering medications, tracking intake and output, ensuring comfort, and providing companionship. During a house renovation, I observed how contractors often ignored my client's requests until aides repeated them, highlighting the need for better advocacy and respect for people with disabilities. Additionally, I have noticed how many parts of UNC's campus are not updated for wheelchair users, underscoring the importance of creating inclusive environments. These experiences have deepened my commitment to advocating for equitable healthcare access and addressing systemic barriers. I have seen how a lack of accessible transportation limits independence and how small changes, like installing a ramp, can significantly improve quality of life. These insights have fueled my passion for advocating for policies that support the most vulnerable. In conclusion, my research and personal experiences have equipped me with a comprehensive understanding of health inequities and the social determinants of health. I am committed to using this knowledge to advocate for social justice and human rights, ensuring that all individuals have the opportunity to achieve optimal health and well-being. By addressing systemic barriers and promoting equitable healthcare access, I aim to contribute to a more just and inclusive society. This scholarship will enable me to further my education and continue my work in public health, ultimately helping to create a world where everyone has the chance to thrive.

The idea of crocheting first popped into my head when I saw a Pinterest ad from a company selling cancer caps for patients. Two days later, I crocheted my first cap with a lot of instruction from YouTube for my neighbor, Mrs. Hardy, who was battling cancer. With loose stitches and a droopy top, it was full of imperfections, but Mrs. Hardy was so excited by the hat that she asked me to make more to share with her friends. I practiced over and over again to make sure my caps looked just right. With just a few extra rows of stitches, my hats can fit an infant or an eighty-year-old. I could crochet every minute for the rest of my life, but I still wouldn't be able to make enough hats for everyone in need on my own. Every year since seventh grade, I have brought extra yarn and crochet hooks so anyone interested can learn to make a hat at school. As I show them a basic double crochet stitch, I have a chance to sit down and learn about their interests, goals, and hopes for their hats. Some of the friends I have taught over the years continue to make child-sized hats in extra-thick yarn for the homeless kids shivering all through the winter months, some bring hats to cancer patients, and a few like me make varying sizes of hats so that both groups of people can be better served. Handing out hats and teaching people to crochet shaped my career goals. With every stitch I crochet, I pray for the person whose head it will eventually rest on while promising to help future cancer patients through research in my own career in medicine to be able to have a greater impact on a larger community.

The idea of crocheting first popped into my head when I saw a Pinterest ad from a company selling cancer caps for patients. Two days later, I crocheted my first cap with a lot of instruction from YouTube for my neighbor, Mrs. Hardy, who was battling cancer. With loose stitches and a droopy top, it was full of imperfections, but Mrs. Hardy was so excited by the hat that she asked me to make more to share with her friends. I practiced over and over again to make sure my caps looked just right. With just a few extra rows of stitches, my hats can fit an infant or an eighty-year-old. I could crochet every minute for the rest of my life, but I still wouldn't be able to make enough hats for everyone in need on my own. Every year since seventh grade, I have brought extra yarn and crochet hooks so anyone interested can learn to make a hat at school. As I show them a basic double crochet stitch, I have a chance to sit down and learn about their interests, goals, and hopes for their hats. Some of the friends I have taught over the years continue to make child-sized hats in extra-thick yarn for the homeless kids shivering all through the winter months, some bring hats to cancer patients, and a few like me make varying sizes of hats so that both groups of people can be better served. Handing out hats and teaching people to crochet shaped my career goals. With every stitch I crochet, I pray for the person whose head it will eventually rest on while promising to help future cancer patients through research in my own career in medicine to be able to have a greater impact on a larger community.

Education is the only gift in the world that lasts a lifetime. Growing up, my mom and dad prioritized the education of my family. After grueling days at work, they would return home to build time to read to my brother and me before bed. I cherished these few minutes as it was often the only time I was able to spend with my father during the week. My brother and I would argue over which book we would have our parents read to us that night because we idolized them both and the books were a conduit for their time. This dedication to education and my future was not something I immediately recognized or valued. I naively assumed that every child received the opportunities that had become commonplace for me. I could not have been more mistaken about that sad reality; however, I grew to adore the words of the thick and glossy pages. I wanted to enjoy the worlds that books offered even when my parents were at work. In preschool, I would memorize the Fancy Nancy storybooks to pretend I could read for my teachers and anyone who could listen to me. Consequently, this memorization actually made my reading journey more difficult because I was memorizing word pronunciation and order instead of meaning. My kindergarten teacher at Sharon Elementary taught me to sound out words to make reading easier, and I soon spent all of my free time reading the Magic Tree House series. Given how much authorities in my life have poured into my reading ability, I was delighted with this chance to teach other students the gift of reading using the Orton-Gillingham multisensory explicit approach to reading through the Augustine Literacy Partnership. It is direct, unambiguous instruction. Novice or struggling learners learn much better with this approach. It is a continuum that leads children to discover on their own, and the design of the instruction means that the important content is broken down into pieces through demonstration, guided practice, and checking for understanding. There is abundant research to support deliberate practice, spaced over time, and to retrieve information in that practice. This delivery of instruction is interactive with feedback and has a perky pace. With Mrs. Lye and the Augustine Literacy Partnership, I have learned the values of phonemic awareness, phonics, vocabulary, fluency, and comprehension that will allow me to teach underprivileged students to read. While I hope to be able to continue tutoring in the future, I would like to serve my community through a career in medicine. When I was fourteen years old, medicine took on significantly greater importance. My mother was admitted to the hospital with a white blood cell count of over thirty thousand and hemoglobin of six. My babysitter picked me up from school only knowing that my mother was in the hospital. In retrospect, my mother had gradually changed from a 45-year-old with boundless energy and a ready laugh into a tired shell of her former self. Her skin had become pasty white and the laughter that lived in her bright blue eyes was gone. Her veins appeared to be breaking free from her body as they were covered in IVs and her small frame was draped in a hospital gown. The doctors completed blood tests, CT scans, and a bone marrow biopsy over four days in order to give a preliminary diagnosis. We went home and waited a week until the final results confirmed a rare form of Non-Hodgkins lymphoma. The entire week was a blur until we heard the words, “She has cancer.” All I remember is my father crying as he tried to explain what was going on in the parking lot of my middle school. In the weeks before she was diagnosed with Splenic Marginal Zone Lymphoma (Stage IV) at Duke University, I was researching all of the chromosomal abnormalities that would lead to blood cancers. My google search history would indicate then that I became heavily focused on bioscience. I wanted to understand the genetic causes of cancer. I wanted to know her chances of survival. As my mother began to regain her color and energy with ongoing Rituximab infusions, my interest in bioscience remained. I was fortunate to have an outstanding teacher for my freshman biology class and decided to take a closer look at a future dealing with bioscience as I enrolled in AP Biology at my school. I thought that this class would be an excellent opportunity to familiarize myself with bioscience. Little did I know that the news would soon be filled with non-stop bioscience. As I look at the world in 2021, it is impossible not to feel closer to our communities while a pandemic claims lives by the minute. A microscopic virus is so contagious and destructive that people are working from home and unable to attend school in person. Moreover, humankind is more vulnerable to the spread of disease, which is especially worrisome because the virus has a transmission rate nearly ten times higher than the seasonal influenza virus. While social events have remained in lockdown, the global scientific community has been more active than ever in discovering new mutations of the virus, advising politicians on public safety, and developing a new type of mRNA vaccine in less than a year. I would love to be able to say that these experiences and communities have changed me for the better, but I am not sure what my life would have looked like without them. Nevertheless, I am a more compassionate person because I know what it feels like to watch a loved one struggle to survive. I understand the pain of waiting for results that are all bad options. I would give anything to not know these things, but this is my reality. Therefore, I hope that this course in learning to think like a bioscientist will be an important step in my journey toward serving others through a career in medicine one day.