Tía Fanny was my favorite aunt. Not because she was the only one I'd ever known, but because of her genuine appreciation for life. She was the center of every family function, playfully spinning me around the living room. Fanny's positivity masked the reality of what she was battling: leukemia. As a kid, I was unaware of what that meant. Ten years later, after her funeral, I understood. I understood what I could do to honor her. Through Pennies for Patients, a fundraiser hosted through the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, I could raise money toward combating these cancers. I led my team to avoid doing what previous students had done. It had to be special. After weeks of researching, brainstorming, and networking, we devised a fun and effective way to fundraise: a Pi(e) Day event, where students could pie their teachers if they donated to our cause. My group and I coordinated informative presentations to engage the school in our project. Raising $500 with over 50 student donors, we hosted this event. My peers loved seeing their teachers get pied, and I imagined my Tía did too. Our fundraiser and my recent analysis made me recognize that a large component of this issue is the underrepresentation of minorities in cancer clinical trials. This stems from the lack of knowledge of prevention and necessary treatments. My project helped educate my school on this topic and increased my school's awareness of this problem. This experience showed me that I’m not just passionate about science; I’m a leader capable of inspiring others and turning ideas into action. Continuing this work in the future, I plan to continue studying Mathematics and Public Health to create an advocacy organization that would help connect my fellow Hispanics and Latinos to new cancer studies. Not only the ones I would be leading in my own lab, but also with various other researchers who have the same mission in mind. A lack of diversity in the workforce has contributed to the underrepresentation of Hispanics/Latinos in research studies, and it can no longer be this way. Getting our community to perceive this as a dire issue will create an uproar in advocacy and a surge in determination to address this disparity. This foundation of support would attract more people toward the fight for better representation in scientific surveys. This way, we’ll be able to increase our outreach and impact, leading to reduced cancer-related deaths in my community and ultimately preparing me for a world of advocacy in public health and biotechnology.

Tía Fanny was my favorite aunt. Not because she was the only one I'd ever known, but because of her genuine appreciation for life. She was the center of every family function, playfully spinning me around the living room. Fanny's positivity masked the reality of what she was battling: leukemia. As a kid, I was unaware of what that meant. Ten years later, after her funeral, I understood. I understood what I could do to honor her. Through Pennies for Patients, a fundraiser hosted through the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, I could raise money toward combating these cancers. I led my team to avoid doing what previous students had done. It had to be special. After weeks of researching, brainstorming, and networking, we devised a fun and effective way to fundraise: a Pi(e) Day event, where students could pie their teachers if they donated to our cause. My group and I coordinated informative presentations to engage the school in our project. Raising $500 with over 50 student donors, we hosted this event. My peers loved seeing their teachers get pied, and I imagined my Tía did too. Our fundraiser and my recent analysis made me recognize that a large component of this issue is the underrepresentation of minorities in cancer clinical trials. This stems from the lack of knowledge of prevention and necessary treatments. My project helped educate my school on this topic and increased my school's awareness of this problem. This experience showed me that I’m not just passionate about science; I’m a leader capable of inspiring others and turning ideas into action. Continuing this work in the future, I plan to continue studying Mathematics and Public Health to create an advocacy organization that would help connect my fellow Hispanics and Latinos to new cancer studies. Not only the ones I would be leading in my own lab, but also with various other researchers who have the same mission in mind. A lack of diversity in the workforce has contributed to the underrepresentation of Hispanics/Latinos in research studies, and it can no longer be this way. Getting our community to perceive this as a dire issue will create an uproar in advocacy and a surge in determination to address this disparity. This foundation of support would attract more people toward the fight for better representation in scientific surveys. This way, we’ll be able to increase our outreach and impact, leading to reduced cancer-related deaths in my community and ultimately preparing me for a world of advocacy in public health and biotechnology.

Cancer is the leading cause of death in my Hispanic and Latino community. I learned this in a health disparity unit this year, where we used mathematical models to analyze how different diseases impact diverse groups of people. This science-based insight hit me like a sledgehammer as I reflected on the experience of Tía Fanny, my dearest aunt. Her genuine appreciation for life masked the reality of what she was battling: leukemia. As a kid, I was unaware of what that meant. Ten years after her funeral, during my junior year, I understood what I could do to honor her. Through the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society’s Pennies for Patients fundraiser, I raised money for cancer research. I led my team to avoid doing what previous students had done. It had to be special. After weeks of researching, brainstorming, and networking, we devised a fun and effective way to fundraise: a Pi(e) Day event, where students could throw a pie at their teachers if they donated to our cause. We coordinated informative presentations to engage the school in our project and raised $500 with 50 donors. Our fundraiser and my recent analysis made me recognize that a large component of this issue is the underrepresentation of minorities in cancer clinical trials. This stems from the lack of knowledge of prevention and necessary treatments. My project helped educate my school on this topic and increased my school's awareness of this problem. This experience showed me that I’m not just passionate about science; I’m a leader capable of inspiring others and turning ideas into action. It also taught me that when I act on what I care about, I can create meaningful change. Looking ahead, I plan to build an advocacy organization that would help connect my fellow Hispanics and Latinos to new cancer studies. Not only the ones I would be leading in my own lab, but also with various other researchers who have the same mission in mind. With the rise in biotechnology companies, I am certain that other labs would work alongside me. Utilizing my math, technology, and biology backgrounds will enable me to develop these new studies and streamline the process. Taking on this challenge will be a huge stepping stone for both me and the Hispanic community. It will bring more attention to this issue, get others on board, and promote greater diversity in this space, something that is much needed. According to Zippia, a credited career development site, between 2010 and 2021, the percentage of scientists who were Hispanic/Latino remained at or below 10%. A lack of diversity in the workforce has affected the lack of focus on Hispanics/Latinos in research studies, and it can no longer be this way. Getting our community to perceive this as a dire issue will spark advocacy and a surge in determination to address this disparity. This foundation of support would attract more people toward the fight for better representation in scientific surveys. This way, we’ll be able to increase our outreach and impact, reducing cancer-related deaths in my community and ultimately preparing me for a career in advocacy in public health and biotechnology.

Cancer is the leading cause of death in my Hispanic and Latino community. I learned this in a health disparity unit this year, where we used mathematical models to analyze how different diseases impact diverse groups of people. This science-based insight hit me like a sledgehammer as I reflected on the experience of Tía Fanny, my dearest aunt. Her genuine appreciation for life masked the reality of what she was battling: leukemia. As a kid, I was unaware of what that meant. Ten years after her funeral, during my junior year, I understood what I could do to honor her. Through the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society’s Pennies for Patients fundraiser, I raised money for cancer research. I led my team to avoid doing what previous students had done. It had to be special. After weeks of researching, brainstorming, and networking, we devised a fun and effective way to fundraise: a Pi(e) Day event, where students could throw a pie at their teachers if they donated to our cause. We coordinated informative presentations to engage the school in our project and raised $500 with 50 donors. Our fundraiser and my recent analysis made me recognize that a large component of this issue is the underrepresentation of minorities in cancer clinical trials. This stems from the lack of knowledge of prevention and necessary treatments. My project helped educate my school on this topic and increased my school's awareness of this problem. This experience showed me that I’m not just passionate about science; I’m a leader capable of inspiring others and turning ideas into action. It also taught me that when I act on what I care about, I can create meaningful change. Looking ahead, I plan to build an advocacy organization that would help connect my fellow Hispanics and Latinos to new cancer studies. Not only the ones I would be leading in my own lab, but also with various other researchers who have the same mission in mind. With the rise in biotechnology companies, I am certain that other labs would work alongside me. Utilizing my math, technology, and biology backgrounds will enable me to develop these new studies and streamline the process. Taking on this challenge will be a huge stepping stone for both me and the Hispanic community. It will bring more attention to this issue, get others on board, and promote greater diversity in this space, something that is much needed. According to Zippia, a credited career development site, between 2010 and 2021, the percentage of scientists who were Hispanic/Latino remained at or below 10%. A lack of diversity in the workforce has affected the lack of focus on Hispanics/Latinos in research studies, and it can no longer be this way. Getting our community to perceive this as a dire issue will cause an uproar in advocacy and a surge in determination to figure this disparity out. This foundation of support would attract more people toward the fight for better representation in scientific surveys. This way, we’ll be able to increase our outreach and impact, leading to reduced cancer-related deaths in my community and ultimately preparing me for a world of advocacy in public health and biotechnology.

I come from the smallest state's smallest city and attend one of the smallest schools where the students refer to their teachers on a first-name basis. My graduating class is composed of 84 students in a two-story school of 360. Every student is a crucial contributor to the strength of our Blackstone community, and everyone encourages each other to flourish. This community became the most important and beneficial factor in my educational journey. My friendly relationships with faculty have propelled my learning to new heights. I have role models who look like me or my peers and who care about teaching beyond the classroom. We’re prepared to be members of service and provide for our local communities. After attending a weekend specifically for first-generation students, I knew the same environment was present at Boston College. Despite it being a larger community, the interactions between students and faculty made it seem small and interconnected. My host knew everyone, allowing me to meet many students like myself. Each individual I met was altruistic and cared for others on a personal level. Seeing this, I felt like I was back home in my small school. I discovered that the Jesuit values embedded in my future classmates aligned with my values. I knew that, with these new peers, I could create a rich social and academic foundation. Establishing this footing is extremely important to me as I go into college. My high school provided me with that, and I’m forever thankful for it, but it also hindered the opportunities I had at my disposal. Lacking AP classes and a grand class catalog has me worried about the success of my college career. My courses have challenged me to a certain extent, but I know they aren’t on a college level. Many alumni from my school often come back highlighting the unexpected rigor of college and how our school doesn’t prepare us for it. This stands as my biggest fear as I want to continue succeeding in my academics, but could not be prepared enough to do so. The lack of class variety goes hand in hand with this, as I’ve only been able to explore basic topics. Both of my worries fall into the category of imposter syndrome, which is the worst thing I fear. Additionally, I’m concerned about attending a PWI and understanding how to manage that. Coming from a public charter school that serves underrepresented low-income communities around Rhode Island, I’ve only ever been around people from similar backgrounds. I understand this will be a major struggle, but I also know that there are support systems to help students get adjusted to this new environment. In the future, I hope to continue using my mentoring experience to support Hispanic students and families with the difficulties that education can come with. However, my main career goal relates to the fact that cancer is the leading cause of death in my Hispanic and Latino community. In my studies, I found that a large component of this is their underrepresentation in cancer clinical trials. This stems from the lack of knowledge of prevention and necessary treatments. I aspire to limit the development and effects of cancer in marginalized populations while informing them about the risk factors of cancer. Using knowledge of both math and public health, I feel confident that I can attack this issue and get others to begin acknowledging and working on it.

Cancer is the leading cause of death in my Hispanic and Latino community. I learned this in a health disparity unit this year, where we used mathematical models to analyze how different diseases impact diverse groups of people. This science-based insight hit me like a sledgehammer as I reflected on the experience of Tía Fanny, my dearest aunt. Her genuine appreciation for life masked the reality of what she was battling: leukemia. As a kid, I was unaware of what that meant. Ten years after her funeral, during my junior year, I understood what I could do to honor her. Through the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society’s Pennies for Patients fundraiser, I raised money for cancer research. I led my team to avoid doing what previous students had done. It had to be special. After weeks of researching, brainstorming, and networking, we devised a fun and effective way to fundraise: a Pi(e) Day event, where students could throw a pie at their teachers if they donated to our cause. We coordinated informative presentations to engage the school in our project and raised $500 with 50 donors. Our fundraiser and my recent analysis made me recognize that a large component of this issue is the underrepresentation of minorities in cancer clinical trials. This stems from the lack of knowledge of prevention and necessary treatments. My project helped educate my school on this topic and increased my school's awareness of this problem. This experience showed me that I’m not just passionate about science; I’m a leader capable of inspiring others and turning ideas into action. It also taught me that when I act on what I care about, I can create meaningful change. Looking ahead, I plan to build an advocacy organization that would help connect my fellow Hispanics and Latinos to new cancer studies. Not only the ones I would be leading in my own lab, but also with various other researchers who have the same mission in mind. With the rise in biotechnology companies, I am certain that other labs would work alongside me. Utilizing my math, technology, and biology backgrounds will enable me to develop these new studies and streamline the process. Taking on this challenge will be a huge stepping stone for both me and the Hispanic community. It will bring more attention to this issue, get others on board, and promote greater diversity in this space, something that is much needed. According to Zippia, a credited career development site, between 2010 and 2021, the percentage of scientists who were Hispanic/Latino remained at or below 10%. A lack of diversity in the workforce has affected the lack of focus on Hispanics/Latinos in research studies, and it can no longer be this way. Getting our community to perceive this as a dire issue will spark advocacy and a surge in determination to address this disparity. This foundation of support would attract more people toward the fight for better representation in scientific surveys. This way, we’ll be able to increase our outreach and impact, reducing cancer-related deaths in my community and ultimately preparing me for a career in advocacy in public health and biotechnology.

Cancer is the leading cause of death in my Hispanic and Latino community. I learned this in a health disparity unit this year, where we used mathematical models to analyze how different diseases impact diverse groups of people. This science-based insight hit me like a sledgehammer as I reflected on the experience of Tía Fanny, my dearest aunt. Her genuine appreciation for life masked the reality of what she was battling: leukemia. As a kid, I was unaware of what that meant. Ten years after her funeral, during my junior year, I understood what I could do to honor her. Through the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society’s Pennies for Patients fundraiser, I raised money for cancer research. I led my team to avoid doing what previous students had done. It had to be special. After weeks of researching, brainstorming, and networking, we devised a fun and effective way to fundraise: a Pi(e) Day event, where students could throw a pie at their teachers if they donated to our cause. We coordinated informative presentations to engage the school in our project and raised $500 with 50 donors. Our fundraiser and my recent analysis made me recognize that a large component of this issue is the underrepresentation of minorities in cancer clinical trials. This stems from the lack of knowledge of prevention and necessary treatments. My project helped educate my school on this topic and increased my school's awareness of this problem. This experience showed me that I’m not just passionate about science; I’m a leader capable of inspiring others and turning ideas into action. It also taught me that when I act on what I care about, I can create meaningful change. Looking ahead, I plan to build an advocacy organization that would help connect my fellow Hispanics and Latinos to new cancer studies. Not only the ones I would be leading in my own lab, but also with various other researchers who have the same mission in mind. With the rise in biotechnology companies, I am certain that other labs would work alongside me. Utilizing my math, technology, and biology backgrounds will enable me to develop these new studies and streamline the process. Taking on this challenge will be a huge stepping stone for both me and the Hispanic community. It will bring more attention to this issue, get others on board, and promote greater diversity in this space, something that is much needed. According to Zippia, a credited career development site, between 2010 and 2021, the percentage of scientists who were Hispanic/Latino remained at or below 10%. A lack of diversity in the workforce has affected the lack of focus on Hispanics/Latinos in research studies, and it can no longer be this way. Getting our community to perceive this as a dire issue will spark advocacy and a surge in determination to address this disparity. This foundation of support would attract more people toward the fight for better representation in scientific surveys. This way, we’ll be able to increase our outreach and impact, reducing cancer-related deaths in my community and ultimately preparing me for a career in advocacy in public health and biotechnology.

Cancer is the leading cause of death in my Hispanic and Latino community. I learned this in a health disparity unit this year, where we used mathematical models to analyze how different diseases impact diverse groups of people. This science-based insight hit me like a sledgehammer as I reflected on the experience of Tía Fanny, my dearest aunt. Her genuine appreciation for life masked the reality of what she was battling: leukemia. As a kid, I was unaware of what that meant. Ten years after her funeral, during my junior year, I understood what I could do to honor her. Through the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society’s Pennies for Patients fundraiser, I raised money for cancer research. I led my team to avoid doing what previous students had done. It had to be special. After weeks of researching, brainstorming, and networking, we devised a fun and effective way to fundraise: a Pi(e) Day event, where students could throw a pie at their teachers if they donated to our cause. We coordinated informative presentations to engage the school in our project and raised $500 with 50 donors. Our fundraiser and my recent analysis made me recognize that a large component of this issue is the underrepresentation of minorities in cancer clinical trials. This stems from the lack of knowledge of prevention and necessary treatments. My project helped educate my school on this topic and increased my school's awareness of this problem. This experience showed me that I’m not just passionate about science; I’m a leader capable of inspiring others and turning ideas into action. It also taught me that when I act on what I care about, I can create meaningful change. Looking ahead, I plan to build an advocacy organization that would help connect my fellow Hispanics and Latinos to new cancer studies. Not only the ones I would be leading in my own lab, but also with various other researchers who have the same mission in mind. With the rise in biotechnology companies, I am certain that other labs would work alongside me. Utilizing my math, technology, and biology backgrounds will enable me to develop these new studies and streamline the process. Taking on this challenge will be a huge stepping stone for both me and the Hispanic community. It will bring more attention to this issue, get others on board, and promote greater diversity in this space, something that is much needed. According to Zippia, a credited career development site, between 2010 and 2021, the percentage of scientists who were Hispanic/Latino remained at or below 10%. A lack of diversity in the workforce has affected the lack of focus on Hispanics/Latinos in research studies, and it can no longer be this way. Getting our community to perceive this as a dire issue will spark advocacy and a surge in determination to address this disparity. This foundation of support would attract more people toward the fight for better representation in scientific surveys. This way, we’ll be able to increase our outreach and impact, reducing cancer-related deaths in my community and ultimately preparing me for a career in advocacy in public health and biotechnology.

Cancer is the leading cause of death in my Hispanic and Latino community. I learned this in a health disparity unit this year, where we used mathematical models to analyze how different diseases impact diverse groups of people. This science-based insight hit me like a sledgehammer as I reflected on the experience of Tía Fanny, my dearest aunt. Her genuine appreciation for life masked the reality of what she was battling: leukemia. As a kid, I was unaware of what that meant. Ten years after her funeral, during my junior year, I understood what I could do to honor her. Through the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society’s Pennies for Patients fundraiser, I raised money for cancer research. I led my team to avoid doing what previous students had done. It had to be special. After weeks of researching, brainstorming, and networking, we devised a fun and effective way to fundraise: a Pi(e) Day event, where students could throw a pie at their teachers if they donated to our cause. My group and I coordinated informative presentations to engage the school in our project and raised $500 with 50 donors. Our fundraiser and my recent analysis made me recognize that a large component of this issue is the underrepresentation of minorities in cancer clinical trials. This stems from the lack of knowledge of prevention and necessary treatments. My project helped educate my school on this topic and increased my school's awareness of this problem. This experience showed me that I’m not just passionate about science; I’m a leader capable of inspiring others and turning ideas into action. It also taught me that when I act on what I care about, I can create meaningful change. Continuing this work in the future, I plan to create an advocacy organization that would help connect my fellow Hispanics and Latinos to new cancer studies. Not only the ones I would be leading in my own lab, but also with various other researchers who have the same mission in mind. With the rise in biotechnology companies, I am certain that other labs would work alongside me. Utilizing my math, technology, and biology backgrounds will enable me to develop these new studies and streamline the process. Taking on this challenge will be a huge stepping stone for both me and the Hispanic community. It will bring more attention to this issue, get others on board, and promote greater diversity in this space, something that is much needed. According to Zippia, a credited career development site, between 2010 and 2021, the percentage of scientists who were Hispanic/Latino remained at or below 10%. A lack of diversity in the workforce has affected the lack of focus on Hispanics/Latinos in research studies, and it can no longer be this way. Getting our community to perceive this as a dire issue will cause an uproar in advocacy and a surge in determination to figure this disparity out. This foundation of support would attract more people toward the fight for better representation in scientific surveys. This way, we’ll be able to increase our outreach and impact, leading to reduced cancer-related deaths in my community and ultimately preparing me for a world of advocacy in public health and biotechnology.

Cancer is the leading cause of death in my Hispanic and Latino community. I learned this in a health disparity unit this year, where we used mathematical models to analyze how different diseases impact diverse groups of people. This science-based insight hit me like a sledgehammer as I reflected on the experience of Tía Fanny, my dearest aunt. Her genuine appreciation for life masked the reality of what she was battling: leukemia. As a kid, I was unaware of what that meant. Ten years after her funeral, during my junior year, I understood what I could do to honor her. Through the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society’s Pennies for Patients fundraiser, I raised money for cancer research. I led my team to avoid doing what previous students had done. It had to be special. After weeks of researching, brainstorming, and networking, we devised a fun and effective way to fundraise: a Pi(e) Day event, where students could throw a pie at their teachers if they donated to our cause. My group and I coordinated informative presentations to engage the school in our project and raised $500 with 50 donors. Our fundraiser and my recent analysis made me recognize that a large component of this issue is the underrepresentation of minorities in cancer clinical trials. This stems from the lack of knowledge of prevention and necessary treatments. My project helped educate my school on this topic and increased my school's awareness of this problem. Continuing this work in the future, I plan to create an advocacy organization that would help connect my fellow Hispanics and Latinos to new cancer studies. Not only the ones I would be leading in my own lab, but also with various other researchers who have the same mission in mind. With the rise in biotechnology companies, I am certain that other labs would work alongside me. Utilizing my math, technology, and biology backgrounds will enable me to develop these new studies and streamline the process. Taking on this challenge will be a huge stepping stone for both me and the Hispanic community. It will bring more attention to this issue, get others on board, and promote greater diversity in this space, something that is much needed. According to Zippia, a credited career development site, between 2010 and 2021, the percentage of scientists who were Hispanic/Latino remained at or below 10%. A lack of diversity in the workforce has affected the lack of focus on Hispanics/Latinos in research studies, and it can no longer be this way. Getting our community to perceive this as a dire issue will cause an uproar in advocacy and a surge in determination to figure this disparity out. This foundation of support would attract more people toward the fight for better representation in scientific surveys. This way, we’ll be able to increase our outreach and impact, leading to reduced cancer-related deaths in my community and ultimately preparing me for a world of advocacy in public health and biotechnology.

Cancer is the leading cause of death in my Hispanic and Latino community. I learned this in a health disparity unit this year, where we used mathematical models to analyze how different diseases impact diverse groups of people. This science-based insight hit me like a sledgehammer as I reflected on the experience of Tía Fanny, my dearest aunt. Her genuine appreciation for life masked the reality of what she was battling: leukemia. As a kid, I was unaware of what that meant. Ten years after her funeral, during my junior year, I understood what I could do to honor her. Through the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society’s Pennies for Patients fundraiser, I raised money for cancer research. I led my team to avoid doing what previous students had done. It had to be special. After weeks of researching, brainstorming, and networking, we devised a fun and effective way to fundraise: a Pi(e) Day event, where students could throw a pie at their teachers if they donated to our cause. My group and I coordinated informative presentations to engage the school in our project and raised $500 with 50 donors. Our fundraiser and my recent analysis made me recognize that a large component of this issue is the underrepresentation of minorities in cancer clinical trials. This stems from the lack of knowledge of prevention and necessary treatments. My project helped educate my school on this topic and made my school more aware of this problem. Continuing this work in the future, I plan to create an advocacy organization that would help connect my fellow Hispanics and Latinos to new cancer studies. Not only the ones I would be leading in my own lab, but also with various other researchers who have the same mission in mind. With the rise in biotechnology companies, I am certain that other labs would work alongside me. Using my math, technology, and biology backgrounds will help me push toward developing these new studies and work toward streamlining the process. Taking on this challenge will be a huge stepping stone for both me and the Hispanic community. It will bring more attention to this issue, get others on board, and promote greater diversity in this space, something that is much needed. According to Zippia, a credited career development site, between 2010 and 2021, the percentage of scientists who were Hispanic/Latino remained at or below 10%. A lack of diversity in the workforce has affected the lack of focus on Hispanics/Latinos in research studies, and it can no longer be this way. Getting our community to perceive this as a dire issue will cause an uproar in advocacy and a surge in determination to figure this disparity out. This foundation of support would attract more people toward the fight for better representation in scientific surveys. This way, we’ll be able to increase our outreach and impact, leading to reduced cancer-related deaths in my community and ultimately preparing me for a world of advocacy in public health and biotechnology.

Cancer is the leading cause of death in my Hispanic and Latino community. I learned this through a health disparity unit in my Junior year Physics class, where we used mathematical models to analyze how different diseases impact diverse groups of people. In my studies, I found that a large component of this is their underrepresentation in cancer clinical trials. This stems from the lack of knowledge of prevention and necessary treatments. This science-based information hit me like a brick as I reflected on the experience of Tía Fanny, my favorite aunt. Not because she was the only one I’d ever known, but because of her genuine appreciation for life. She was the center of every family function, playfully spinning me around the living room. Fanny’s positivity masked the reality of what she was battling: leukemia. As a kid, I was unaware of what that meant. Ten years later, after her funeral, I understood. I understood what I could do to honor her. Through the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, I managed the Pennies for Patients fundraiser. I led my team to avoid doing what previous students had done. The project had to be special. After weeks of researching, brainstorming, and networking, we devised a fun and effective way to fundraise: a Pi(e) Day event, where students could throw a pie at their teachers if they donated to our cause. My group and I coordinated informative presentations to engage the school in our project. We hosted this event, thanks to over 50 donors accumulating over $500. My peers loved seeing their teachers get pied, and I imagined my Tía did as well. Our fundraiser made me realize how fulfilling and important advocacy can be. Using her happiness to raise awareness, I discovered how necessary it is to contribute to scientific studies and be an activist for the less fortunate. Furthermore, I aspire to learn more about the analytical side of healthcare while understanding the principles of epidemiology. Science is an ever-evolving subject that can only be pursued through higher education. As a first-generation college student, I find education to be the most important barrier to overcome to achieve more in life. Because of this, I have always taken it seriously and have made it my responsibility to pursue education for my family. Living in an impoverished community and seeing my family deal with it throughout my whole life has created a harsh and limited vision for myself. My environment created barriers that left my peers and me feeling like we couldn’t strive for more. Most of the older friends my brother and I share have stayed within these restrictive barriers, influencing the fixed view I had on life. However, I’ve always admired higher education as the driving force out of these environmental constraints. Attending college can help reshape and re-influence my once-fixed thoughts on life. It can help put a clear lens on my understanding of life, cleaning up the dirt and dust that has built up, and allowing clarity to guide me on my journey to new educational heights.

Cancer is the leading cause of death in my Hispanic and Latino community. I learned this in a health disparity unit this year in Physics, where we used mathematical models to analyze how different diseases impact diverse groups of people. This science-based insight hit me like a sledgehammer as I reflected on the experience of Tía Fanny, my dearest aunt. Her genuine appreciation for life masked the reality of what she was battling: leukemia. As a kid, I was unaware of what that meant. Ten years after her funeral, during my junior year, I understood what I could do to honor her. Through the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society’s Pennies for Patients fundraiser, I raised money for cancer research. I led my team to avoid doing what previous students had done. My fundraiser had to be special. After weeks of researching, brainstorming, and networking, we devised a fun and effective way to fundraise: a Pi(e) Day event, where students could throw a pie at their teachers if they donated to our cause. My group and I coordinated informative presentations to engage the school in our project and raised $500 with 50 donors. Our fundraiser and my recent analysis made me recognize that a large component of this issue is the underrepresentation of minorities in cancer clinical trials. This stems from the lack of knowledge of prevention and necessary treatments. My project helped educate my school on this topic and become more aware of this problem. Continuing this work in the future, I plan to create an advocacy organization that would help connect my fellow Hispanics and Latinos to new cancer studies. Not only the ones I would be leading in my own lab, but with various other researchers who have the same mission in mind. Continuing this work in the future, I plan to create an advocacy organization that would help connect my fellow Hispanics and Latinos to new cancer studies. Not only the ones I would be leading in my own lab, but with various other researchers who have the same mission in mind. With my fundraising experience, I know how difficult it can be to engage others in projects and events. Beginning with my hometown, I would amass a small audience to kick-start my dream. This foundation of support helps attract more people toward the fight for better representation in scientific surveys. By building a strong following, we can easily connect with other companies, avoiding a lack of partners and sponsors. This way, we’ll be able to increase our outreach and impact, leading to reduced cancer-related deaths in my community and ultimately preparing me for a world of advocacy in public health.

I stood mesmerized by the entrance of my best friend’s Quinceañera: tables covered in white silk, expensive chairs with lavish pink bands, and multicolored lights flashed over the crowded dance floor. My friends danced away, smoothly rotating dance partners while maintaining the rhythm they were taught at a young age. I was paralyzed, as I didn’t know what to do. The tempo they maintained, grinning from ear to ear, was unfamiliar. I couldn’t integrate myself into this Hispanic tradition. I’d never known what cumbia or bachata was, nor their cultural importance. Growing up, I didn’t identify with my Colombian heritage. It was never emphasized in my family. As a kid, I would proclaim "I'm Colombian!" oblivious to the weight that declaration held. What I now know is that I was completely disconnected from my family lineage. My first realization was in middle school when I went to my local Colombian restaurant for the first time. The door jingled as we walked through, suppressing the faint unknown background music. I was hypnotized by the delicious food while my parents ordered, and became immensely curious. Why don’t I know any of these foods? Is this music Colombian? I was struck with an epiphany: I didn’t know as much about my culture as I thought I did. I doused my parents in questions to bridge the gap between the hidden and more obvious parts of my Colombian identity. Each one was taken lightly, dismissed as just childish curiosity. I longed to unlock the hidden beauties of Colombia, but it took me a year to find the confidence to ask my parents again, hoping that I was old enough to be met with sincerity. I poured everything out onto paper and then formed a single question. Paper in hand, computer upon my lap, and phone set up to record, I asked the all-encompassing, “What does being Colombian mean to you?”. After a moment of silence, my mom couldn’t hold herself back as she enthusiastically expressed her tremendous love for Colombia. She missed the illuminated Christmases and La Feria de Las Flores, when flowers are sown into intricate designs for parades. She reminisced about the kindness of the people and it made her smile. Colombian blood flowed through her veins and it brought me joy to see her love. My dad, on the other hand, expressed the antithesis. No love was held for Colombian culture. With limited resources and absent parents, he worked hard in his youth to provide for himself. Because of his experiences, he drifted away from Colombia and developed apathy towards the culture. He summed it up saying, “I think one is from where they fight for, not where they were born”. Both of their perspectives left a mark on me. I realized I could take a piece from each of their lives. I am a wonderful combination of Arepas and Sancocho, basketball games and barbecues. I can be both, but I have to find a balance through my self-discovery. I’m at a point where I have to take initiative in that aspect of my life. I have already begun by learning how to dance and listening to different music with my parceros and other close relatives. My parents and I now cook Colombian cuisine as we salsa through the kitchen. After my experiences at the Quince, I am starting to learn the tempo of my ancestors while embracing the rhythm for which I once yearned.

Cancer is the leading cause of death in my Hispanic and Latino community. I learned this through a health disparity unit in my Junior year Physics class, where we used mathematical models to analyze how different diseases impact diverse groups of people. In my studies, I found that a large component of this is their underrepresentation in cancer clinical trials. This stems from the lack of knowledge of prevention and necessary treatments. This science-based information hit me like a brick as I reflected on the experience of Tía Fanny, my favorite aunt. She had a genuine appreciation for life. Fanny’s positivity masked the reality of what she was battling: leukemia. As a kid, I was unaware of what that meant. Ten years later, after her funeral, I understood. I understood what I could do to honor her. Through the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, I managed the Pennies for Patients fundraiser., I led my team to avoid doing what previous students had done. It had to be special. After weeks of researching, brainstorming, and networking, we devised a fun and effective way to fundraise: a Pi(e) Day event, where students could throw a pie at their teachers if they donated to our cause. My group and I coordinated informative presentations to engage the school in our project. Raising over $500 with 50 donors, we hosted this event. My peers loved seeing their teachers get pied, and I imagined my Tía did too. Our fundraiser made me realize how fulfilling and important advocacy can be. Using her happiness to raise awareness, I discovered how necessary it is to contribute to scientific studies and be an activist for the less fortunate. Science is an ever-evolving subject that can only be pursued through higher education. As a first-generation college student, I find education to be the most important barrier to break through to push for more in life. Because of this, I have always taken it seriously and took it upon myself to pursue education for my family. Living in an impoverished community and seeing my family deal with it throughout my whole life has created a harsh and limited vision for myself. My environment created barriers that left my peers and me feeling like we couldn’t strive for more. Most of the older friends my brother and I share have stayed within these restrictive barriers, influencing the fixed view I had on life. However, I’ve always admired higher education as the driving force out of these environmental constraints. Attending college can help reshape and re-influence my once-fixed thoughts on life. It can help put a clear lens onto my understanding of life, cleaning up the dirt and dust that has built up, and allowing clarity to guide me on my journey to new educational heights.