Early this year, my calculus teacher was handing back our tests from the day before. There’s only ten people in the class, it takes about forty-five seconds for everyone to share and find out each other's grade. Disbelief washed over my classmates when they saw my test. I had scored the highest in the class. I know it was lighthearted, but it wasn’t any less offensive when my friend snatched the test from me to ensure that the grading was done correctly. His shock reduced to uncomfortable silence when he verified it was. When the bell rang, I navigated against the stampede of students to get to Monsieur Mendro’s classroom for Knowledge Bowl. I felt the adrenaline of the competition stream as my team accumulated points. Then, a question arose about medicine– my topic. I buzzed in confidently, whispering “Anticoagulant” to our team captain. He shushed me. “Anticoagulant is the medical name for blood thinners,” I reiterated, raising my voice, only to be dismissed. The timer counted down– 4…3…2…1. The opposing team snatched the point, leaving me frustrated only to be scolded for “not asserting myself.” After Knowledge Bowl, I headed to work. My shift was mundane until I had an unsettling encounter. As I was loading a flatbed with a bookshelf, an older man approached me, “A pretty, young ‘thing’ like you shouldn’t be lifting that,” he said. “Let me get it for you.” “I got it, thank you.” I responded politely. What he responded with is not something I wish to include. I was livid, but I forced a smile, hoping he would leave me alone. For as long as I can remember, my favorite color has been pink. I take a mental liking of anything floral. My favorite hobbies are baking and reading. I’m soft-spoken and nurturing, traits that bring adoration from young children. I hate to admit that I fit into the rigid box that is the stereotype of femininity. As the eldest of four, I excel academically, consistently earning A’s. However, while my brothers received rewards and praise for their mediocre grades, I faced indifference. My parents grew to expect excellence from me, yet my accomplishments went unrecognized. Through these experiences, I found my voice as an officer of diversity club. This role empowered me to advocate for underrepresented students, providing a platform to share stories and celebrate our backgrounds. Here, I learned the power of acknowledgement– not just for myself, but for others who feel silenced. Despite years of being told to pursue a “more realistic” career, I want to be a neonatologist. My passion for medicine, specifically caring for the most vulnerable, fuels my ambition. The medical field needs advocates who are able to see and challenge the biases surrounding them– just as I have learned to do. My experiences have shown me that the only way to break through the glass ceiling of expectations is to pursue my dreams while uplifting others. Following that random Tuesday, I carry with me an internal drive that has powered my success, partly as a response to the ignorance of others, but mainly to prove my determination. Acknowledgement may be rare, but my commitment to prove that I’m capable will always be there. With my pink gel pen gliding across the page, I desire to be the change in a world that fails to recognize the potential within everyone, regardless of gender.

"And every night, I wake up from this one recurrin' dream Where I'm drivin' through the city and the brakes go out on me I can't stop at the red light, I can't swerve off the road I read somewhere it's 'cause my life feels so out of control" This lyric from Olivia Rodrigo's "Making The Bed," perfectly resonates with my teenage experience, and well as the experience of many other teenagers around the world. It talks about feeling out of control in your own life, and sort of just going through the motions as you know them. I am at a point in my life right now where I feel as if I have absolute zero control in my life and what it turns into, but at the same time-- I realize that I am shaping my future right now. As scary as it is, I am applying to colleges, scholarships, financial aid, and so many other things that will lead me to be the person I want myself to be. Right now, I feel like I am the teenage girl that I once looked up to, and it makes my inner child happy. I am independent, I work about 25 hours a week, I pay for anything that is my own, I maintain straight A's. As terrifying as it is, I am already an adult at 17 years old. I feel stuck in a place in my life where the world is pushing and pulling me every which way, and my lifeless body is just being tugged apart like a rope in tug-a-war because I feel so conflicted. When I grow up, I want to be a neonatologist. I realize that it will take about 15 years in order to achieve my goal, but I am sick of constantly being told to pursue a more realistic career and that there's no way I'll make it to that point. This desire is driving me, everyone's doubt in my ability makes me want to prove myself even more, I believe I can, and I will. Moving forward, I carry with me an internal drive that is powered through the doubt of others. As petty as it is, I look forward to seeing the faces on everyone's face when I do exactly as I said I aspire to. I want to be the powerful female role model for young girls to look up to everywhere. I want to be Neonatologist Barbie.