Hello, there! My name is Fevet Ibrahim (pronounced Fee-vet E-bra-heem). I’m a first-generation Arab-American female college student. I am a student at the University of Washington- Seattle double majoring in computational neuroscience and Biochemistry (minoring in philosophy and bioethics). I come from a low-income Middle Eastern family in Vancouver, Washington. I speak 3 languages fluently, run competitively in Cross Country and Track and Field, debate in Speech & Debate, work as a research assistant at Seattle Children’s Center for Integrative Brain Research, and volunteer as a blood donor ambassador with the American Red Cross. My educational aspirations are to become an attending neurosurgeon and author. I wish to do so by excelling in my education as a current undergraduate, and equally doing so while obtaining both a medical and doctorate through UW’s Medical Scientist Training Program (combined MD/P.h.D program). As a professional, I hope to devote my time to serving patients clinically, as well as researching neural networks, deep brain stimulation, and neuromodulation. Life as a busy college student comes with its challenges, but I remember a time when life wasn’t so good, where I was none of the things I listed, and where I didn’t even have the opportunity to become any of it. I’m referring to the fact that I’m an immigrant from Northeast Africa, from a small village tucked away on the skirts of the Nile in El Minya, Egypt. Every generation of my family tree has been a wheat farmer. In our village, girls didn’t go to school. We barely had a single middle school. In some harvest seasons, the crops would perform so poorly that we survived solely on the food products from our animals because we couldn’t afford external purchases. I remember walking two miles at 5:45 every morning to my elementary school, with an overworn backpack and twice-stitched sneakers. If there’s one thing my life has taught me, it is that some challenges are worth enduring: nothing replaces the strength and beauty of character that struggle forges in our souls. Sometimes the most beautiful stories come from the ugliest experiences- and no, it is never fair, and yet I don’t think we would like to have life any other way. That’s why, right now, I’m sitting in a little cafe on my college campus applying for this scholarship to help cover expenses for my classes instead of shrinking in depression over the fact that my mom (my best friend) has recently been diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. When I was a young girl, I used to be very sensitive and emotional. I would cry at the sight of others in pain even if it were just a scene in a movie. I still deeply feel those same emotions, but my instinct is no longer to cry. Life has rationalized me to such an extent that I just fast forward to the part where I act in response to the event or emotion. So, what I did in that instant is grab my laptop and drop all my spring quarter classes. I was going to sit at home and take care of my mother. Family before self. Family before anything. Once again, I hope and pray for the strength to overcome this obstacle in my life. But I know that I must fight until that strength is forged. These aren’t just classes, lectures, homework assignments, or exams; they are my battle song, my armor.

Hello, there! My name is Fevet Ibrahim (pronounced Fee-vet E-bra-heem). I’m a first-generation Arab-American female college student. I am a student at the University of Washington- Seattle double majoring in computational neuroscience and Biochemistry (minoring in philosophy and bioethics). I come from a low-income Middle Eastern family in Vancouver, Washington. I speak 3 languages fluently, run competitively in Cross Country and Track and Field, debate in Speech & Debate, work as a research assistant at Seattle Children’s Center for Integrative Brain Research, and volunteer as a blood donor ambassador with the American Red Cross. My educational aspirations are to become an attending neurosurgeon and author. I wish to do so by excelling in my education as a current undergraduate, and equally doing so while obtaining both a medical and doctorate through UW’s Medical Scientist Training Program (combined MD/P.h.D program). As a professional, I hope to devote my time to serving patients clinically, as well as researching neural networks, deep brain stimulation, and neuromodulation. Life as a busy college student comes with its challenges, but I remember a time when life wasn’t so good, where I was none of the things I listed, and where I didn’t even have the opportunity to become any of it. I’m referring to the fact that I’m an immigrant from Northeast Africa, from a small village tucked away on the skirts of the Nile in El Minya, Egypt. Every generation of my family tree has been a wheat farmer. In our village, girls didn’t go to school. We barely had a single middle school. In some harvest seasons, the crops would perform so poorly that we survived solely on the food products from our animals because we couldn’t afford external purchases. I remember walking two miles at 5:45 every morning to my elementary school, with an overworn backpack and twice-stitched sneakers. If there’s one thing my life has taught me, it is that some challenges are worth enduring: nothing replaces the strength and beauty of character that struggle forges in our souls. Sometimes the most beautiful stories come from the ugliest experiences- and no, it is never fair, and yet I don’t think we would like to have life any other way. That’s why, right now, I’m sitting in a little cafe on my college campus applying for this scholarship to help cover expenses for my classes instead of shrinking in depression over the fact that my mom (my best friend) has recently been diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. When I was a young girl, I used to be very sensitive and emotional. I would cry at the sight of others in pain even if it were just a scene in a movie. I still deeply feel those same emotions, but my instinct is no longer to cry. Life has rationalized me to such an extent that I just fast forward to the part where I act in response to the event or emotion. So, what I did in that instant is grab my laptop and drop all my spring quarter classes. I was going to sit at home and take care of my mother. Family before self. Family before anything. Once again, I hope and pray for the strength to overcome this obstacle in my life. But I know that I must fight until that strength is forged. These aren’t just classes, lectures, homework assignments, or exams; they are my battle song, my armor.

Hello, there! My name is Fevet Ibrahim (pronounced Fee-vet E-bra-heem). I’m a first-generation Arab-American female college student. I am a student at the University of Washington- Seattle double majoring in computational neuroscience and Biochemistry (minoring in philosophy and bioethics). I come from a low-income Middle Eastern family in Vancouver, Washington. I speak 3 languages fluently, run competitively in Cross Country and Track and Field, debate in Speech & Debate, work as a research assistant at Seattle Children’s Center for Integrative Brain Research, and volunteer as a blood donor ambassador with the American Red Cross. My educational aspirations are to become an attending neurosurgeon and author. I wish to do so by excelling in my education as a current undergraduate, and equally doing so while obtaining both a medical and doctorate through UW’s Medical Scientist Training Program (combined MD/P.h.D program). As a professional, I hope to devote my time to serving patients clinically, as well as researching neural networks, deep brain stimulation, and neuromodulation. Life as a busy college student comes with its challenges, but I remember a time when life wasn’t so good, where I was none of the things I listed, and where I didn’t even have the opportunity to become any of it. I’m referring to the fact that I’m an immigrant from Northeast Africa, from a small village tucked away on the skirts of the Nile in El Minya, Egypt. Every generation of my family tree has been a wheat farmer. In our village, girls didn’t go to school. We barely had a single middle school. In some harvest seasons, the crops would perform so poorly that we survived solely on the food products from our animals because we couldn’t afford external purchases. I remember walking two miles at 5:45 every morning to my elementary school, with an overworn backpack and twice-stitched sneakers. If there’s one thing my life has taught me, it is that some challenges are worth enduring: nothing replaces the strength and beauty of character that struggle forges in our souls. Sometimes the most beautiful stories come from the ugliest experiences- and no, it is never fair, and yet I don’t think we would like to have life any other way. That’s why, right now, I’m sitting in a little cafe on my college campus applying for this scholarship to help cover expenses for my classes instead of shrinking in depression over the fact that my mom (my best friend) has recently been diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. When I was a young girl, I used to be very sensitive and emotional. I would cry at the sight of others in pain even if it were just a scene in a movie. I still deeply feel those same emotions, but my instinct is no longer to cry. Life has rationalized me to such an extent that I just fast forward to the part where I act in response to the event or emotion. So, what I did in that instant is grab my laptop and drop all my spring quarter classes. I was going to sit at home and take care of my mother. Family before self. Family before anything. Once again, I hope and pray for the strength to overcome this obstacle in my life. But I know that I must fight until that strength is forged. These aren’t just classes, lectures, homework assignments, or exams; they are my battle song, my armor.

Hello, there! My name is Fevet Ibrahim (pronounced Fee-vet E-bra-heem). I’m a first-generation Arab-American female college student. I am a student at the University of Washington- Seattle double majoring in computational neuroscience and Biochemistry (minoring in philosophy and bioethics). I come from a low-income Middle Eastern family in Vancouver, Washington. I speak 3 languages fluently, run competitively in Cross Country and Track and Field, debate in Speech & Debate, work as a research assistant at Seattle Children’s Center for Integrative Brain Research, and volunteer as a blood donor ambassador with the American Red Cross. My educational aspirations are to become an attending neurosurgeon and author. I wish to do so by excelling in my education as a current undergraduate, and equally doing so while obtaining both a medical and doctorate through UW’s Medical Scientist Training Program (combined MD/P.h.D program). As a professional, I hope to devote my time to serving patients clinically, as well as researching neural networks, deep brain stimulation, and neuromodulation. Life as a busy college student comes with its challenges, but I remember a time when life wasn’t so good, where I was none of the things I listed, and where I didn’t even have the opportunity to become any of it. I’m referring to the fact that I’m an immigrant from Northeast Africa, from a small village tucked away on the skirts of the Nile in El Minya, Egypt. Every generation of my family tree has been a wheat farmer. In our village, girls didn’t go to school. We barely had a single middle school. In some harvest seasons, the crops would perform so poorly that we survived solely on the food products from our animals because we couldn’t afford external purchases. I remember walking two miles at 5:45 every morning to my elementary school, with an overworn backpack and twice-stitched sneakers. If there’s one thing my life has taught me, it is that some challenges are worth enduring: nothing replaces the strength and beauty of character that struggle forges in our souls. Sometimes the most beautiful stories come from the ugliest experiences- and no, it is never fair, and yet I don’t think we would like to have life any other way. That’s why, right now, I’m sitting in a little cafe on my college campus applying for this scholarship to help cover expenses for my classes instead of shrinking in depression over the fact that my mom (my best friend) has recently been diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. When I was a young girl, I used to be very sensitive and emotional. I would cry at the sight of others in pain even if it were just a scene in a movie. I still deeply feel those same emotions, but my instinct is no longer to cry. Life has rationalized me to such an extent that I just fast forward to the part where I act in response to the event or emotion. So, what I did in that instant is grab my laptop and drop all my spring quarter classes. I was going to sit at home and take care of my mother. Family before self. Family before anything. Once again, I hope and pray for the strength to overcome this obstacle in my life. But I know that I must fight until that strength is forged. These aren’t just classes, lectures, homework assignments, or exams; they are my battle song, my armor.

Hello, there! My name is Fevet Ibrahim (pronounced Fee-vet E-bra-heem). I’m a first-generation Arab-American female college student. I am a student at the University of Washington- Seattle double majoring in computational neuroscience and Biochemistry (minoring in philosophy and bioethics). I come from a low-income Middle Eastern family in Vancouver, Washington. I speak 3 languages fluently, run competitively in Cross Country and Track and Field, debate in Speech & Debate, work as a research assistant at Seattle Children’s Center for Integrative Brain Research, and volunteer as a blood donor ambassador with the American Red Cross. My educational aspirations are to become an attending neurosurgeon and author. I wish to do so by excelling in my education as a current undergraduate, and equally doing so while obtaining both a medical and doctorate through UW’s Medical Scientist Training Program (combined MD/P.h.D program). As a professional, I hope to devote my time to serving patients clinically, as well as researching neural networks, deep brain stimulation, and neuromodulation. Life as a busy college student comes with its challenges, but I remember a time when life wasn’t so good, where I was none of the things I listed, and where I didn’t even have the opportunity to become any of it. I’m referring to the fact that I’m an immigrant from Northeast Africa, from a small village tucked away on the skirts of the Nile in El Minya, Egypt. Every generation of my family tree has been a wheat farmer. In our village, girls didn’t go to school. We barely had a single middle school. In some harvest seasons, the crops would perform so poorly that we survived solely on the food products from our animals because we couldn’t afford external purchases. I remember walking two miles at 5:45 every morning to my elementary school, with an overworn backpack and twice-stitched sneakers. If there’s one thing my life has taught me, it is that some challenges are worth enduring: nothing replaces the strength and beauty of character that struggle forges in our souls. Sometimes the most beautiful stories come from the ugliest experiences- and no, it is never fair, and yet I don’t think we would like to have life any other way. That’s why, right now, I’m sitting in a little cafe on my college campus applying for this scholarship to help cover expenses for my classes instead of shrinking in depression over the fact that my mom (my best friend) has recently been diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. When I was a young girl, I used to be very sensitive and emotional. I would cry at the sight of others in pain even if it were just a scene in a movie. I still deeply feel those same emotions, but my instinct is no longer to cry. Life has rationalized me to such an extent that I just fast forward to the part where I act in response to the event or emotion. So, what I did in that instant is grab my laptop and drop all my spring quarter classes. I was going to sit at home and take care of my mother. Family before self. Family before anything. Once again, I hope and pray for the strength to overcome this obstacle in my life. But I know that I must fight until that strength is forged. These aren’t just classes, lectures, homework assignments, or exams; they are my battle song, my armor.

Hello, there! My name is Fevet Ibrahim (pronounced Fee-vet E-bra-heem). I’m a first-generation Arab-American female college student. I am a student at the University of Washington- Seattle double majoring in computational neuroscience and Biochemistry (minoring in philosophy and bioethics). I come from a low-income Middle Eastern family in Vancouver, Washington. I speak 3 languages fluently, run competitively in Cross Country and Track and Field, debate in Speech & Debate, work as a research assistant at Seattle Children’s Center for Integrative Brain Research, and volunteer as a blood donor ambassador with the American Red Cross. My educational aspirations are to become an attending neurosurgeon and author. I wish to do so by excelling in my education as a current undergraduate, and equally doing so while obtaining both a medical and doctorate through UW’s Medical Scientist Training Program (combined MD/P.h.D program). As a professional, I hope to devote my time to serving patients clinically, as well as researching neural networks, deep brain stimulation, and neuromodulation. Life as a busy college student comes with its challenges, but I remember a time when life wasn’t so good, where I was none of the things I listed, and where I didn’t even have the opportunity to become any of it. I’m referring to the fact that I’m an immigrant from Northeast Africa, from a small village tucked away on the skirts of the Nile in El Minya, Egypt. Every generation of my family tree has been a wheat farmer. In our village, girls didn’t go to school. We barely had a single middle school. In some harvest seasons, the crops would perform so poorly that we survived solely on the food products from our animals because we couldn’t afford external purchases. I remember walking two miles at 5:45 every morning to my elementary school, with an overworn backpack and twice-stitched sneakers. If there’s one thing my life has taught me, it is that some challenges are worth enduring: nothing replaces the strength and beauty of character that struggle forges in our souls. Sometimes the most beautiful stories come from the ugliest experiences- and no, it is never fair, and yet I don’t think we would like to have life any other way. That’s why, right now, I’m sitting in a little cafe on my college campus applying for this scholarship to help cover expenses for my classes instead of shrinking in depression over the fact that my mom (my best friend) has recently been diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. When I was a young girl, I used to be very sensitive and emotional. I would cry at the sight of others in pain even if it were just a scene in a movie. I still deeply feel those same emotions, but my instinct is no longer to cry. Life has rationalized me to such an extent that I just fast forward to the part where I act in response to the event or emotion. So, what I did in that instant is grab my laptop and drop all my spring quarter classes. I was going to sit at home and take care of my mother. Family before self. Family before anything. Once again, I hope and pray for the strength to overcome this obstacle in my life. But I know that I must fight until that strength is forged. These aren’t just classes, lectures, homework assignments, or exams; they are my battle song, my armor.

Hello, there! My name is Fevet Ibrahim (pronounced Fee-vet E-bra-heem). I’m a first-generation Arab-American female college student. I am a student at the University of Washington- Seattle double majoring in computational neuroscience and Biochemistry (minoring in philosophy and bioethics). I come from a low-income Middle Eastern family in Vancouver, Washington. I speak 3 languages fluently, run competitively in Cross Country and Track and Field, debate in Speech & Debate, work as a research assistant at Seattle Children’s Center for Integrative Brain Research, and volunteer as a blood donor ambassador with the American Red Cross. My educational aspirations are to become an attending neurosurgeon and author. I wish to do so by excelling in my education as a current undergraduate, and equally doing so while obtaining both a medical and doctorate through UW’s Medical Scientist Training Program (combined MD/P.h.D program). As a professional, I hope to devote my time to serving patients clinically, as well as researching neural networks, deep brain stimulation, and neuromodulation. Life as a busy college student comes with its challenges, but I remember a time when life wasn’t so good, where I was none of the things I listed, and where I didn’t even have the opportunity to become any of it. I’m referring to the fact that I’m an immigrant from Northeast Africa, from a small village tucked away on the skirts of the Nile in El Minya, Egypt. Every generation of my family tree has been a wheat farmer. In our village, girls didn’t go to school. We barely had a single middle school. In some harvest seasons, the crops would perform so poorly that we survived solely on the food products from our animals because we couldn’t afford external purchases. I remember walking two miles at 5:45 every morning to my elementary school, with an overworn backpack and twice-stitched sneakers. If there’s one thing my life has taught me, it is that some challenges are worth enduring: nothing replaces the strength and beauty of character that struggle forges in our souls. Sometimes the most beautiful stories come from the ugliest experiences- and no, it is never fair, and yet I don’t think we would like to have life any other way. That’s why, right now, I’m sitting in a little cafe on my college campus applying for this scholarship to help cover expenses for my classes instead of shrinking in depression over the fact that my mom (my best friend) has recently been diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. When I was a young girl, I used to be very sensitive and emotional. I would cry at the sight of others in pain even if it were just a scene in a movie. I still deeply feel those same emotions, but my instinct is no longer to cry. Life has rationalized me to such an extent that I just fast forward to the part where I act in response to the event or emotion. So, what I did in that instant is grab my laptop and drop all my spring quarter classes. I was going to sit at home and take care of my mother. Family before self. Family before anything. Once again, I hope and pray for the strength to overcome this obstacle in my life. But I know that I must fight until that strength is forged. These aren’t just classes, lectures, homework assignments, or exams; they are my battle song, my armor.

Hello, there! My name is Fevet Ibrahim (pronounced Fee-vet E-bra-heem). I’m a first-generation Arab-American female college student. I am a student at the University of Washington- Seattle double majoring in computational neuroscience and Biochemistry (minoring in philosophy and bioethics). I come from a low-income Middle Eastern family in Vancouver, Washington. I speak 3 languages fluently, run competitively in Cross Country and Track and Field, debate in Speech & Debate, work as a research assistant at Seattle Children’s Center for Integrative Brain Research, and volunteer as a blood donor ambassador with the American Red Cross. My educational aspirations are to become an attending neurosurgeon and author. I wish to do so by excelling in my education as a current undergraduate, and equally doing so while obtaining both a medical and doctorate through UW’s Medical Scientist Training Program (combined MD/P.h.D program). As a professional, I hope to devote my time to serving patients clinically, as well as researching neural networks, deep brain stimulation, and neuromodulation. Life as a busy college student comes with its challenges, but I remember a time when life wasn’t so good, where I was none of the things I listed, and where I didn’t even have the opportunity to become any of it. I’m referring to the fact that I’m an immigrant from Northeast Africa, from a small village tucked away on the skirts of the Nile in El Minya, Egypt. Every generation of my family tree has been a wheat farmer. In our village, girls didn’t go to school. We barely had a single middle school. In some harvest seasons, the crops would perform so poorly that we survived solely on the food products from our animals because we couldn’t afford external purchases. I remember walking two miles at 5:45 every morning to my elementary school, with an overworn backpack and twice-stitched sneakers. If there’s one thing my life has taught me, it is that some challenges are worth enduring: nothing replaces the strength and beauty of character that struggle forges in our souls. Sometimes the most beautiful stories come from the ugliest experiences- and no, it is never fair, and yet I don’t think we would like to have life any other way. That’s why, right now, I’m sitting in a little cafe on my college campus applying for this scholarship to help cover expenses for my classes instead of shrinking in depression over the fact that my mom (my best friend) has recently been diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. When I was a young girl, I used to be very sensitive and emotional. I would cry at the sight of others in pain even if it were just a scene in a movie. I still deeply feel those same emotions, but my instinct is no longer to cry. Life has rationalized me to such an extent that I just fast forward to the part where I act in response to the event or emotion. So, what I did in that instant is grab my laptop and drop all my spring quarter classes. I was going to sit at home and take care of my mother. Family before self. Family before anything. Once again, I hope and pray for the strength to overcome this obstacle in my life. But I know that I must fight until that strength is forged. These aren’t just classes, lectures, homework assignments, or exams; they are my battle song, my armor.

Hello, there! My name is Fevet Ibrahim (pronounced Fee-vet E-bra-heem). I’m a first-generation Arab-American female college student. I am a student at the University of Washington- Seattle double majoring in computational neuroscience and Biochemistry (minoring in philosophy and bioethics). I come from a low-income Middle Eastern family in Vancouver, Washington. I speak 3 languages fluently, run competitively in Cross Country and Track and Field, debate in Speech & Debate, serve at my church, work as a research assistant at Seattle Children’s Center for Integrative Brain Research, and volunteer as a blood donor ambassador with the American Red Cross. My educational aspirations are to become an attending neurosurgeon and author. I wish to do so by excelling in my education as a current undergraduate, and equally doing so while obtaining both a medical and doctorate through UW’s Medical Scientist Training Program (combined MD/P.h.D program). As a professional, I hope to devote my time to serving patients clinically, as well as researching neural networks, deep brain stimulation, and neuromodulation. Life as a busy college student comes with its challenges, but I remember a time when life wasn’t so good, where I was none of the things I listed, and where I didn’t even have the opportunity to become any of it. I’m referring to the fact that I’m an immigrant from Northeast Africa, from a small village tucked away on the skirts of the Nile in El Minya, Egypt. Every generation of my family tree has been a wheat farmer. In our village, girls didn’t go to school. We barely had a single middle school. In some harvest seasons, the crops would perform so poorly that we survived solely on the food products from our animals because we couldn’t afford external purchases. I remember walking two miles at 5:45 every morning to my elementary school, with an overworn backpack and twice-stitched sneakers. If there’s one thing my life has taught me, it is that some challenges are worth enduring: nothing replaces the strength and beauty of character that struggle forges in our souls. Sometimes the most beautiful stories come from the ugliest experiences- and no, it is never fair, and yet I don’t think we would like to have life any other way. That’s why, right now, I’m sitting in a little cafe on my college campus applying for this scholarship to help cover expenses for my classes instead of shrinking in depression over the fact that my mom (my best friend) has recently been diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. When I was a young girl, I used to be very sensitive and emotional. I would cry at the sight of others in pain even if it were just a scene in a movie. I still deeply feel those same emotions, but my instinct is no longer to cry. Life has rationalized me to such an extent that I just fast forward to the part where I act in response to the event or emotion. So, what I did in that instant is grab my laptop and drop all my spring quarter classes. I was going to sit at home and take care of my mother. Family before self. Family before anything. Once again, I hope and pray for the strength to overcome this obstacle in my life. But I know that I must fight until that strength is forged. These aren’t just classes, lectures, homework assignments, or exams; they are my battle song, my armor.

Hello, there! My name is Fevet Ibrahim (pronounced Fee-vet E-bra-heem). I’m a first-generation Arab-American female college student. I am a student at the University of Washington double majoring in computational neuroscience and Biochemistry (minoring in philosophy and bioethics). I come from a low-income Middle Eastern family in Vancouver, Washington. I speak 3 languages fluently, run competitively in Cross Country and Track and Field, debate in Speech & Debate, serve at my church, work as a research assistant at Seattle Children’s Center for Integrative Brain Research, and volunteer as a blood donor ambassador with the American Red Cross. My educational aspirations are to become an attending neurosurgeon and author. I wish to do so by excelling in my education as a current undergraduate, and equally doing so while obtaining both a medical and doctorate through UW’s Medical Scientist Training Program (combined MD/P.h.D program). As a professional, I hope to devote my time to serving patients clinically, as well as researching neural networks, deep brain stimulation, and neuromodulation. Life as a busy college student comes with its challenges, but I remember a time when life wasn’t so good, where I was none of the things I listed, and where I didn’t even have the opportunity to become any of it. I’m referring to the fact that I’m an immigrant from Northeast Africa, from a small village tucked away on the skirts of the Nile in El Minya, Egypt. Every generation of my family tree has been a wheat farmer. In our village, girls didn’t go to school. We barely had a single middle school. In some harvest seasons, the crops would perform so poorly that we survived solely on the food products from our animals because we couldn’t afford external purchases. I remember walking two miles at 5:45 every morning to my elementary school, with an overworn backpack and twice-stitched sneakers. If there’s one thing my life has taught me, it is that some challenges are worth enduring: nothing replaces the strength and beauty of character that struggle forges in our souls. Sometimes the most beautiful stories come from the ugliest experiences- and no, it is never fair, and yet I don’t think we would like to have life any other way. That’s why, right now, I’m sitting in a little cafe on my college campus applying for this scholarship to help cover expenses for my classes instead of shrinking in depression over the fact that my mom (my best friend) has recently been diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. When I was a young girl, I used to be very sensitive and emotional. I would cry at the sight of others in pain even if it were just a scene in a movie. I still deeply feel those same emotions, but my instinct is no longer to cry. Life has rationalized me to such an extent that I just fast forward to the part where I act in response to the event or emotion. So, what I did in that instant is grab my laptop and drop all my spring quarter classes. I was going to sit at home and take care of my mother. Family before self. Family before anything. Once again, I hope and pray for the strength to overcome this obstacle in my life. But I know that I must fight until that strength is forged. These aren’t just classes, lectures, homework assignments, or exams; they are my battle song, my armor.

Hello, there! My name is Fevet Ibrahim (pronounced Fee-vet E-bra-heem). I’m a first-generation Arab-American female college student. I am a student at the University of Washington double majoring in computational neuroscience and Biochemistry (minoring in philosophy and bioethics). I come from a low-income Middle Eastern family in Vancouver, Washington. I speak 3 languages fluently, run competitively in Cross Country and Track and Field, debate in Speech & Debate, serve at my church, work as a research assistant at Seattle Children’s Center for Integrative Brain Research, and volunteer as a blood donor ambassador with the American Red Cross. My educational aspirations are to become an attending neurosurgeon and author. I wish to do so by excelling in my education as a current undergraduate, and equally doing so while obtaining both a medical and doctorate through UW’s Medical Scientist Training Program (combined MD/P.h.D program). As a professional, I hope to devote my time to serving patients clinically, as well as researching neural networks, deep brain stimulation, and neuromodulation. Life as a busy college student comes with its challenges, but I remember a time when life wasn’t so good, where I was none of the things I listed, and where I didn’t even have the opportunity to become any of it. I’m referring to the fact that I’m an immigrant from Northeast Africa, from a small village tucked away on the skirts of the Nile in El Minya, Egypt. Every generation of my family tree has been a wheat farmer. In our village, girls didn’t go to school. We barely had a single middle school. In some harvest seasons, the crops would perform so poorly that we survived solely on the food products from our animals because we couldn’t afford external purchases. I remember walking two miles at 5:45 every morning to my elementary school, with an overworn backpack and twice-stitched sneakers. If there’s one thing my life has taught me, it is that some challenges are worth enduring: nothing replaces the strength and beauty of character that struggle forges in our souls. Sometimes the most beautiful stories come from the ugliest experiences- and no, it is never fair, and yet I don’t think we would like to have life any other way. That’s why, right now, I’m sitting in a little cafe on my college campus applying for this scholarship to help cover expenses for my classes instead of shrinking in depression over the fact that my mom (my best friend) has recently been diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. When I was a young girl, I used to be very sensitive and emotional. I would cry at the sight of others in pain even if it were just a scene in a movie. I still deeply feel those same emotions, but my instinct is no longer to cry. Life has rationalized me to such an extent that I just fast forward to the part where I act in response to the event or emotion. So, what I did in that instant is grab my laptop and drop all my spring quarter classes. I was going to sit at home and take care of my mother. Family before self. Family before anything. Once again, I hope and pray for the strength to overcome this obstacle in my life. But I know that I must fight until that strength is forged. These aren’t just classes, lectures, homework assignments, or exams; they are my battle song, my armor.

Hello, there! My name is Fevet Ibrahim (pronounced Fee-vet E-bra-heem). I’m a first-generation Arab-American female college student. I am a UW double majoring in computational neuroscience and Biochemistry (minoring in philosophy and bioethics). I come from a low-income Middle Eastern family in Vancouver, Washington. I speak 3 languages fluently, run competitively in Cross Country and Track and Field, debate in Speech & Debate, serve at my church, work as a research assistant at Seattle Children’s Center for Integrative Brain Research, and volunteer as a blood donor ambassador with the American Red Cross. My educational aspirations are to become an attending neurosurgeon and author. I wish to do so by excelling in my education as a current undergraduate, and equally doing so while obtaining both a medical and doctorate through UW’s Medical Scientist Training Program (combined MD/P.h.D program). As a professional, I hope to devote my time to serving patients clinically, as well as researching neural networks, deep brain stimulation, and neuromodulation. Life as a busy college student comes with its challenges, but I remember a time when life wasn’t so good, where I was none of the things I listed, and where I didn’t even have the opportunity to become any of it. I’m referring to the fact that I’m an immigrant from Northeast Africa, from a small village tucked away on the skirts of the Nile in El Minya, Egypt. Every generation of my family tree has been a wheat farmer. In our village, girls didn’t go to school. We barely had a single middle school. In some harvest seasons, the crops would perform so poorly that we survived solely on the food products from our animals because we couldn’t afford external purchases. I remember walking two miles at 5:45 every morning to my elementary school, with an overworn backpack and twice-stitched sneakers. If there’s one thing my life has taught me, it is that some challenges are worth enduring: nothing replaces the strength and beauty of character that struggle forges in our souls. Sometimes the most beautiful stories come from the ugliest experiences- and no, it is never fair, and yet I don’t think we would like to have life any other way. That’s why, right now, I’m sitting in a little cafe on my college campus applying for this scholarship to help cover expenses for my classes instead of shrinking in depression over the fact that my mom (my best friend) has recently been diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. When I was a young girl, I used to be very sensitive and emotional. I would cry at the sight of others in pain even if it were just a scene in a movie. I still deeply feel those same emotions, but my instinct is no longer to cry. Life has rationalized me to such an extent that I just fast forward to the part where I act in response to the event or emotion. So, what I did in that instant is grab my laptop and drop all my spring quarter classes. I was going to sit at home and take care of my mother. Family before self. Family before anything. Once again, I hope and pray for the strength to overcome this obstacle in my life. But I know that I must fight until that strength is forged. These aren’t just classes, lectures, homework assignments, or exams; they are my battle song, my armor.

Hello, there! My name is Fevet Ibrahim (pronounced Fee-vet E-bra-heem). I’m a first-generation Arab-American female college student. I am a UW double majoring in computational neuroscience and Biochemistry (minoring in philosophy and bioethics). I come from a low-income Middle Eastern family in Vancouver, Washington. I speak 3 languages fluently, run competitively in Cross Country and Track and Field, debate in Speech & Debate, serve at my church, work as a research assistant at Seattle Children’s Center for Integrative Brain Research, and volunteer as a blood donor ambassador with the American Red Cross. My educational aspirations are to become an attending neurosurgeon and author. I wish to do so by excelling in my education as a current undergraduate, and equally doing so while obtaining both a medical and doctorate through UW’s Medical Scientist Training Program (combined MD/P.h.D program). As a professional, I hope to devote my time to serving patients clinically, as well as researching neural networks, deep brain stimulation, and neuromodulation. Life as a busy college student comes with its challenges, but I remember a time when life wasn’t so good, where I was none of the things I listed, and where I didn’t even have the opportunity to become any of it. I’m referring to the fact that I’m an immigrant from Northeast Africa, from a small village tucked away on the skirts of the Nile in El Minya, Egypt. Every generation of my family tree has been a wheat farmer. In our village, girls didn’t go to school. We barely had a single middle school. In some harvest seasons, the crops would perform so poorly that we survived solely on the food products from our animals because we couldn’t afford external purchases. I remember walking two miles at 5:45 am every morning to my elementary school, with an overworn backpack and twice-stitched sneakers. If there’s one thing my life has taught me, it is that some challenges are worth enduring: nothing replaces the strength and beauty of character that struggle forges in our souls. Sometimes the most beautiful stories come from the ugliest experiences- and no, it is never fair, and yet I don’t think we would like to have life any other way. That’s why, right now, I’m sitting in a little cafe on my college campus applying for this scholarship to help cover expenses for my classes instead of shrinking in depression over the fact that my mom (my best friend) has recently been diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. When I was a young girl, I used to be very sensitive and emotional. I would cry at the sight of others in pain even if it were just a scene in a movie. I still deeply feel those same emotions, but my instinct is no longer to cry. Life has rationalized me to such an extent that I just fast forward to the part where I act in response to the event or emotion. So, what I did in that instant is grab my laptop and drop all my spring quarter classes. I was going to sit at home and take care of my mother. Family before self. Family before anything. Once again, I hope and pray for the strength to overcome this obstacle in my life. But I know that I must fight until that strength is forged. These aren’t just classes, lectures, homework assignments, or exams; they are my battle song, my armor.

Hello, there! My name is Fevet Ibrahim (pronounced Fee-vet E-bra-heem). I’m a first-generation Arab-American college student. I am a UW double majoring in computational neuroscience and philosophy. I come from a low-income Middle Eastern family in Vancouver, Washington. I speak 3 languages fluently, run competitively in Cross Country and Track and Field, debate in Speech & Debate, serve at my church, work as a research assistant at Seattle Children’s Center for Integrative Brain Research, and volunteer as a blood donor ambassador with the American Red Cross, an experience which fundamentally My educational aspirations are to become an attending neurosurgeon and author. I wish to do so by excelling in my education as a current undergraduate, and equally doing so while obtaining both a medical and doctorate through UW’s Medical Scientist Training Program (combined MD/P.h.D program). As a professional, I hope to devote my time to serving patients clinically, as well as researching neural networks, deep brain stimulation, and neuromodulation. Life as a busy college student comes with its challenges, but I remember a time when life wasn’t so good, where I was none of the things I listed, and where I didn’t even have the opportunity to become any of it. I’m referring to the fact that I’m an immigrant from Northeast Africa, from a small village tucked away on the skirts of the Nile in El Minya, Egypt. Every generation of my family tree has been a wheat farmer. In our village, girls didn’t go to school. We barely had a single middle school. In some harvest seasons, the crops would perform so poorly that we survived solely on the food products from our animals because we couldn’t afford external purchases. I remember walking two miles at 5:45 am every morning to my elementary school, with an overworn backpack and twice-stitched sneakers. If there’s one thing my life has taught me, it is that some challenges are worth enduring: nothing replaces the strength and beauty of character that struggle forges in our souls. Sometimes the most beautiful stories come from the ugliest experiences- and no, it is never fair, and yet I don’t think we would like to have life any other way. That’s why, right now, I’m sitting in a little cafe on my college campus applying for this scholarship to help cover expenses for my classes instead of shrinking in depression over the fact that my mom (my best friend) has recently been diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. When I was a young girl, I used to be very sensitive and emotional. I would cry at the sight of others in pain even if it were just a scene in a movie. I still deeply feel those same emotions, but my instinct is no longer to cry. Life has rationalized me to such an extent that I just fast forward to the part where I act in response to the event or emotion. So, what I did in that instant is grab my laptop and drop all my spring quarter classes. I was going to sit at home and take care of my mother. Family before self. Family before anything. Once again, I hope and pray for the strength to overcome this obstacle in my life. But I know that I must fight until that strength is forged. These aren’t just classes, lectures, homework assignments, or exams; they are my battle song, my armor.

When I lived the death of Paul, it felt like my own. His story became mine, his identity so close and similar to mine, often entwined and intersected at strange moments wherein I didn’t realize which inhale of oxygen is his and which is mine. I was lost in his mind, I dived like a thirsty beast into potent waters, circulating untouched territory of human greatness in thought and deed. All of the questions that Paul Kalanthi addressed in When Breath Becomes Air before cancer ate away at his neurons were eating away at mine. I read hundreds of books in my lifetime of 18 years, always searching for a truth that can show me the meaning of my own existence, always yearning for an answer to all of the questions that caged my mind and left me ravaging the earth for more metaphors to fill my voids. I had so many capabilities, so many options, so many pursuits with which I could be successful. Like King Midas, everything I touched turned to gold, prospering and earning the praise of others, but none of it, none of it, was able to satisfy my own yearning for excellence, my unquenchable curiosity to understand the most fundamental nature of life. This desire is the single-most driving force of human achievement. I battled with it for so long, with all my passions conflicting and creating a tension so deep that forged a big crevice in my soul. What does a person do, what does a person become, when they are part philosopher, poet, scientist, and theologian? How does man carve meaning out of a life that carries so many possibilities and potential and still remain faithful to his core when the clock stops ticking? That’s when I jet-crashed into Paul’s world, and it became mine... because in some real, intangible ways, it was. “...the mind was simply the operation of the brain, an idea that struck me with force; it startled my naive understanding of the world. Of course it must be true-what were our brains doing, otherwise? Though we had free will, we were also biological organisms-the brain was an organ subject to all the laws of physics, too!” (When Breath Becomes Air, Paul Kalanithi). I had never in all of my life as a reader, seen my own thoughts so nakedly painted by another person. Never have I, in any real-life relationship, felt as understood, as validated, as empowered, as when I read that text. All of my struggles made sense in the view of Paul’s early death and his life’s pursuit of meaning in literature and neurosurgery. The weight fell effortlessly off my shoulders, as I gripped the nuclei of my purpose. In truth, I had known it all along, but it took the toil of years of exploration, digging out all the gunk and scum that lay atop. I had known it from the way I pored over my Anatomy and Physiology textbooks; from each medical scan I watched of the patients that inspired my poetry; from the euphoria of writing 4 am blog posts on spirituality and health, after which the pleasure fueled biology study sessions. What I found was little DNA of a neurosurgeon-neuroscientist and a writer: I will investigate all of the accounts of human meaning found in literature and theology, and then I will study how the brain biologically enables that meaning. When others lose that ability, I want to put it back in them through functional neurosurgery. I closed my eyes on that thought and smiled with profound acceptance: this is the one path I happily choose to walk till death meets me wherever it chooses. This is why I am double majoring in computational neuroscience and biochemistry (minoring in philosophy and bioethics) at the University of Washington in Seattle. I'm a first-generation Arab-American female college student. come from a low-income Middle Eastern family in Vancouver, Washington. I speak 3 languages fluently, run competitively in Cross Country and Track and Field, debate in Speech & Debate, serve at my church, work as a research assistant at Seattle Children’s Center for Integrative Brain Research, and volunteer as a blood donor ambassador with the American Red Cross. My educational aspirations are to become an attending neurosurgeon and author. I wish to do so by excelling in my education as a current undergraduate, and equally doing so while obtaining both a medical and doctorate through UW’s Medical Scientist Training Program (combined MD/P.h.D program). As a professional, I hope to devote my time to serving patients clinically, as well as researching neural networks, deep brain stimulation, and neuromodulation. Life as a busy college student comes with its challenges, but I remember a time when life wasn’t so good, where I was none of the things I listed, and where I didn’t even have the opportunity to become any of it. I’m referring to the fact that I’m an immigrant from Northeast Africa, from a small village tucked away on the skirts of the Nile in El Minya, Egypt. Every generation of my family tree has been a wheat farmer. In our village, girls didn’t go to school. We barely had a single middle school. In some harvest seasons, the crops would perform so poorly that we survived solely on the food products from our animals because we couldn’t afford external purchases. I remember walking two miles at 5:45 am every morning to my elementary school, with an overworn backpack and twice-stitched sneakers. If there’s one thing my life has taught me, it is that some challenges are worth enduring: nothing replaces the strength and beauty of character that struggle forges in our souls. Sometimes the most beautiful stories come from the ugliest experiences- and no, it is never fair, and yet I don’t think we would like to have life any other way.

I'm a first-generation Arab-American female college student. I am double majoring in computational neuroscience and biochemistry (minoring in philosophy and bioethics) at the University of Washington in Seattle. I come from a low-income Middle Eastern family in Vancouver, Washington. I speak 3 languages fluently, run competitively in Cross Country and Track and Field, debate in Speech & Debate, serve at my church, work as a research assistant at Seattle Children’s Center for Integrative Brain Research, and volunteer as a blood donor ambassador with the American Red Cross, an experience which fundamentally My educational aspirations are to become an attending neurosurgeon and author. I wish to do so by excelling in my education as a current undergraduate, and equally doing so while obtaining both a medical and doctorate through UW’s Medical Scientist Training Program (combined MD/P.h.D program). As a professional, I hope to devote my time to serving patients clinically, as well as researching neural networks, deep brain stimulation, and neuromodulation. Life as a busy college student comes with its challenges, but I remember a time when life wasn’t so good, where I was none of the things I listed, and where I didn’t even have the opportunity to become any of it. I’m referring to the fact that I’m an immigrant from Northeast Africa, from a small village tucked away on the skirts of the Nile in El Minya, Egypt. Every generation of my family tree has been a wheat farmer. In our village, girls didn’t go to school. We barely had a single middle school. In some harvest seasons, the crops would perform so poorly that we survived solely on the food products from our animals because we couldn’t afford external purchases. I remember walking two miles at 5:45 am every morning to my elementary school, with an overworn backpack and twice-stitched sneakers. If there’s one thing my life has taught me, it is that some challenges are worth enduring: nothing replaces the strength and beauty of character that struggle forges in our souls. Sometimes the most beautiful stories come from the ugliest experiences- and no, it is never fair, and yet I don’t think we would like to have life any other way. That’s why, right now, I’m sitting in a little cafe on my college campus in mid-June applying for this scholarship to help cover expenses for my summer classes instead of shrinking in depression over the fact that my mom (my best friend) has recently been diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. When I was a young girl, I used to be very sensitive and emotional. I would cry at the sight of others in pain even if it were just a scene in a movie. I still deeply feel those same emotions, but my instinct is no longer to cry. Life has rationalized me to such an extent that I just fast forward to the part where I act in response to the event or emotion. So, what I did in that instant is grab my laptop and drop all my spring quarter classes. I was going to sit at home and take care of my mother. Family before self. Family before anything. Once again, I hope and pray for the strength to overcome this obstacle in my life. But I know that I must fight until that strength is forged. If anything, these experiences only deepen my compassion for those who are suffering in every form of the word. People are carriers of life, and life is so precious. Fundamentally, serving other people is at the heart and core of my existence and endeavors.

I'm a first-generation Arab-American female college student. I am double majoring in computational neuroscience and biochemistry (minoring in philosophy and bioethics) at the University of Washington in Seattle. I come from a low-income Middle Eastern family in Vancouver, Washington. I speak 3 languages fluently, run competitively in Cross Country and Track and Field, debate in Speech & Debate, serve at my church, work as a research assistant at Seattle Children’s Center for Integrative Brain Research, and volunteer as a blood donor ambassador with the American Red Cross, an experience which fundamentally My educational aspirations are to become an attending neurosurgeon and author. I wish to do so by excelling in my education as a current undergraduate, and equally doing so while obtaining both a medical and doctorate through UW’s Medical Scientist Training Program (combined MD/P.h.D program). As a professional, I hope to devote my time to serving patients clinically, as well as researching neural networks, deep brain stimulation, and neuromodulation. Life as a busy college student comes with its challenges, but I remember a time when life wasn’t so good, where I was none of the things I listed, and where I didn’t even have the opportunity to become any of it. I’m referring to the fact that I’m an immigrant from Northeast Africa, from a small village tucked away on the skirts of the Nile in El Minya, Egypt. Every generation of my family tree has been a wheat farmer. In our village, girls didn’t go to school. We barely had a single middle school. In some harvest seasons, the crops would perform so poorly that we survived solely on the food products from our animals because we couldn’t afford external purchases. I remember walking two miles at 5:45 am every morning to my elementary school, with an overworn backpack and twice-stitched sneakers. If there’s one thing my life has taught me, it is that some challenges are worth enduring: nothing replaces the strength and beauty of character that struggle forges in our souls. Sometimes the most beautiful stories come from the ugliest experiences- and no, it is never fair, and yet I don’t think we would like to have life any other way. That’s why, right now, I’m sitting in a little cafe on my college campus in mid-June applying for this scholarship to help cover expenses for my summer classes instead of shrinking in depression over the fact that my mom (my best friend) has recently been diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. When I was a young girl, I used to be very sensitive and emotional. I would cry at the sight of others in pain even if it were just a scene in a movie. I still deeply feel those same emotions, but my instinct is no longer to cry. Life has rationalized me to such an extent that I just fast forward to the part where I act in response to the event or emotion. So, what I did in that instant is grab my laptop and drop all my spring quarter classes. I was going to sit at home and take care of my mother. Family before self. Family before anything. Once again, I hope and pray for the strength to overcome this obstacle in my life. But I know that I must fight until that strength is forged. If anything, these experiences only deepen my compassion for those who are suffering in every form of the word. People are carriers of life, and life is so precious. Fundamentally, serving other people is at the heart and core of my existence and endeavors.

I'm a first-generation Arab-American female college student. I am double majoring in computational neuroscience and biochemistry (minoring in philosophy and bioethics) at the University of Washington in Seattle. I come from a low-income Middle Eastern family in Vancouver, Washington. I speak 3 languages fluently, run competitively in Cross Country and Track and Field, debate in Speech & Debate, serve at my church, work as a research assistant at Seattle Children’s Center for Integrative Brain Research, and volunteer as a blood donor ambassador with the American Red Cross, an experience which fundamentally My educational aspirations are to become an attending neurosurgeon and author. I wish to do so by excelling in my education as a current undergraduate, and equally doing so while obtaining both a medical and doctorate through UW’s Medical Scientist Training Program (combined MD/P.h.D program). As a professional, I hope to devote my time to serving patients clinically, as well as researching neural networks, deep brain stimulation, and neuromodulation. Life as a busy college student comes with its challenges, but I remember a time when life wasn’t so good, where I was none of the things I listed, and where I didn’t even have the opportunity to become any of it. I’m referring to the fact that I’m an immigrant from Northeast Africa, from a small village tucked away on the skirts of the Nile in El Minya, Egypt. Every generation of my family tree has been a wheat farmer. In our village, girls didn’t go to school. We barely had a single middle school. In some harvest seasons, the crops would perform so poorly that we survived solely on the food products from our animals because we couldn’t afford external purchases. I remember walking two miles at 5:45 am every morning to my elementary school, with an overworn backpack and twice-stitched sneakers. If there’s one thing my life has taught me, it is that some challenges are worth enduring: nothing replaces the strength and beauty of character that struggle forges in our souls. Sometimes the most beautiful stories come from the ugliest experiences- and no, it is never fair, and yet I don’t think we would like to have life any other way. That’s why, right now, I’m sitting in a little cafe on my college campus in mid-June applying for this scholarship to help cover expenses for my summer classes instead of shrinking in depression over the fact that my mom (my best friend) has recently been diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. When I was a young girl, I used to be very sensitive and emotional. I would cry at the sight of others in pain even if it were just a scene in a movie. I still deeply feel those same emotions, but my instinct is no longer to cry. Life has rationalized me to such an extent that I just fast forward to the part where I act in response to the event or emotion. So, what I did in that instant is grab my laptop and drop all my spring quarter classes. I was going to sit at home and take care of my mother. Family before self. Family before anything. Once again, I hope and pray for the strength to overcome this obstacle in my life. But I know that I must fight until that strength is forged. If anything, these experiences only deepen my compassion for those who are suffering in every form of the word. People are carriers of life, and life is so precious. Fundamentally, serving other people is at the heart and core of my existence and endeavors.

I'm a first-generation Arab-American female college student. I am double majoring in computational neuroscience and biochemistry (minoring in philosophy and bioethics) at the University of Washington in Seattle. I come from a low-income Middle Eastern family in Vancouver, Washington. I speak 3 languages fluently, run competitively in Cross Country and Track and Field, debate in Speech & Debate, serve at my church, work as a research assistant at Seattle Children’s Center for Integrative Brain Research, and volunteer as a blood donor ambassador with the American Red Cross, an experience which fundamentally My educational aspirations are to become an attending neurosurgeon and author. I wish to do so by excelling in my education as a current undergraduate, and equally doing so while obtaining both a medical and doctorate through UW’s Medical Scientist Training Program (combined MD/P.h.D program). As a professional, I hope to devote my time to serving patients clinically, as well as researching neural networks, deep brain stimulation, and neuromodulation. Life as a busy college student comes with its challenges, but I remember a time when life wasn’t so good, where I was none of the things I listed, and where I didn’t even have the opportunity to become any of it. I’m referring to the fact that I’m an immigrant from Northeast Africa, from a small village tucked away on the skirts of the Nile in El Minya, Egypt. Every generation of my family tree has been a wheat farmer. In our village, girls didn’t go to school. We barely had a single middle school. In some harvest seasons, the crops would perform so poorly that we survived solely on the food products from our animals because we couldn’t afford external purchases. I remember walking two miles at 5:45 am every morning to my elementary school, with an overworn backpack and twice-stitched sneakers. If there’s one thing my life has taught me, it is that some challenges are worth enduring: nothing replaces the strength and beauty of character that struggle forges in our souls. Sometimes the most beautiful stories come from the ugliest experiences- and no, it is never fair, and yet I don’t think we would like to have life any other way. That’s why, right now, I’m sitting in a little cafe on my college campus in mid-June applying for this scholarship to help cover expenses for my summer classes instead of shrinking in depression over the fact that my mom (my best friend) has recently been diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. It has been about 3 months since I received the news. I remember my mouth drying up so quickly as if all the saliva got sucked by a dental tool when I saw the mammary scan appointment papers on my parents’ fridge when I went home for a visit during spring break. As a future physician in training, I immediately knew what those papers meant. I needed no further explanation. Education is a seed that is birthed in the heart and mind of the student and flourishes into a big tree, the fruit of which can feed nations. I am a carrier of that seed. Nations depend on me. Little girls in poor villages everywhere need me. My future patients need me- my character and my skill set- and I must endure this pain to help them in theirs. Once again, I hope and pray for the strength to overcome this obstacle in my life. But I know that I must fight until that strength is forged. These aren’t just classes, lectures, homework assignments, or exams; they are my battle song, my armor.

I'm a first-generation Arab-American female college student. I am double majoring in computational neuroscience and biochemistry (minoring in philosophy and bioethics) at the University of Washington in Seattle. I come from a low-income Middle Eastern family in Vancouver, Washington. I speak 3 languages fluently, run competitively in Cross Country and Track and Field, debate in Speech & Debate, serve at my church, work as a research assistant at Seattle Children’s Center for Integrative Brain Research, and volunteer as a blood donor ambassador with the American Red Cross, an experience which fundamentally My educational aspirations are to become an attending neurosurgeon and author. I wish to do so by excelling in my education as a current undergraduate, and equally doing so while obtaining both a medical and doctorate through UW’s Medical Scientist Training Program (combined MD/P.h.D program). As a professional, I hope to devote my time to serving patients clinically, as well as researching neural networks, deep brain stimulation, and neuromodulation. Life as a busy college student comes with its challenges, but I remember a time when life wasn’t so good, where I was none of the things I listed, and where I didn’t even have the opportunity to become any of it. I’m referring to the fact that I’m an immigrant from Northeast Africa, from a small village tucked away on the skirts of the Nile in El Minya, Egypt. Every generation of my family tree has been a wheat farmer. In our village, girls didn’t go to school. We barely had a single middle school. In some harvest seasons, the crops would perform so poorly that we survived solely on the food products from our animals because we couldn’t afford external purchases. I remember walking two miles at 5:45 am every morning to my elementary school, with an overworn backpack and twice-stitched sneakers. If there’s one thing my life has taught me, it is that some challenges are worth enduring: nothing replaces the strength and beauty of character that struggle forges in our souls. Sometimes the most beautiful stories come from the ugliest experiences- and no, it is never fair, and yet I don’t think we would like to have life any other way. That’s why, right now, I’m sitting in a little cafe on my college campus in mid-June applying for this scholarship to help cover expenses for my summer classes instead of shrinking in depression over the fact that my mom (my best friend) has recently been diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. When I was a young girl, I used to be very sensitive and emotional. I would cry at the sight of others in pain even if it were just a scene in a movie. I still deeply feel those same emotions, but my instinct is no longer to cry. Life has rationalized me to such an extent that I just fast forward to the part where I act in response to the event or emotion. So, what I did in that instant is grab my laptop and drop all my spring quarter classes. I was going to sit at home and take care of my mother. Family before self. Family before anything. Once again, I hope and pray for the strength to overcome this obstacle in my life. But I know that I must fight until that strength is forged. If anything, these experiences only deepen my compassion for those who are suffering in every form of the word. People are carriers of life, and life is so precious. Fundamentally, serving other people is at the heart and core of my existence and endeavors.

I'm a first-generation Arab-American female college student. I am double majoring in computational neuroscience and biochemistry (minoring in philosophy and bioethics) at the University of Washington in Seattle. I come from a low-income Middle Eastern family in Vancouver, Washington. I speak 3 languages fluently, run competitively in Cross Country and Track and Field, debate in Speech & Debate, work as a research assistant at Seattle Children’s Center for Integrative Brain Research, and volunteer as a blood donor ambassador with the American Red Cross. My educational aspirations are to become an attending neurosurgeon and author. I wish to do so by excelling in my education as a current undergraduate, and equally doing so while obtaining both a medical and doctorate through UW’s Medical Scientist Training Program (combined MD/P.h.D program). As a professional, I hope to devote my time to serving patients clinically, as well as researching neural networks, deep brain stimulation, and neuromodulation. Life as a busy college student comes with its challenges, but I remember a time when life wasn’t so good, where I was none of the things I listed, and where I didn’t even have the opportunity to become any of it. I’m referring to the fact that I’m an immigrant from Northeast Africa, from a small village tucked away on the skirts of the Nile in El Minya, Egypt. Every generation of my family tree has been a wheat farmer. In our village, girls didn’t go to school. We barely had a single middle school. In some harvest seasons, the crops would perform so poorly that we survived solely on the food products from our animals because we couldn’t afford external purchases. I remember walking two miles at 5:45 am every morning to my elementary school, with an overworn backpack and twice-stitched sneakers. If there’s one thing my life has taught me, it is that some challenges are worth enduring: nothing replaces the strength and beauty of character that struggle forges in our souls. Sometimes the most beautiful stories come from the ugliest experiences- and no, it is never fair, and yet I don’t think we would like to have life any other way. That’s why, right now, I’m sitting in a little cafe on my college campus in early July applying for this scholarship to help cover expenses for my summer classes instead of shrinking in depression over the fact that my mom (my best friend) has recently been diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. Education is a seed that is birthed in the heart and mind of the student and flourishes into a big tree, the fruit of which can feed nations. I am a carrier of that seed. Little girls in poor villages everywhere need me. My future patients need me- my character and my skill set- and I must endure this pain to help them in theirs.

I'm a first-generation Arab-American female college student. I am double majoring in computational neuroscience and biochemistry (minoring in philosophy and bioethics) at the University of Washington in Seattle. I come from a low-income Middle Eastern family in Vancouver, Washington. I speak 3 languages fluently, run competitively in Cross Country and Track and Field, debate in Speech & Debate, work as a research assistant at Seattle Children’s Center for Integrative Brain Research, and volunteer as a blood donor ambassador with the American Red Cross. My educational aspirations are to become an attending neurosurgeon and author. I wish to do so by excelling in my education as a current undergraduate, and equally doing so while obtaining both a medical and doctorate through UW’s Medical Scientist Training Program (combined MD/P.h.D program). As a professional, I hope to devote my time to serving patients clinically, as well as researching neural networks, deep brain stimulation, and neuromodulation. Life as a busy college student comes with its challenges, but I remember a time when life wasn’t so good, where I was none of the things I listed, and where I didn’t even have the opportunity to become any of it. I’m referring to the fact that I’m an immigrant from Northeast Africa, from a small village tucked away on the skirts of the Nile in El Minya, Egypt. Every generation of my family tree has been a wheat farmer. In our village, girls didn’t go to school. We barely had a single middle school. In some harvest seasons, the crops would perform so poorly that we survived solely on the food products from our animals because we couldn’t afford external purchases. I remember walking two miles at 5:45 am every morning to my elementary school, with an overworn backpack and twice-stitched sneakers. If there’s one thing my life has taught me, it is that some challenges are worth enduring: nothing replaces the strength and beauty of character that struggle forges in our souls. Sometimes the most beautiful stories come from the ugliest experiences- and no, it is never fair, and yet I don’t think we would like to have life any other way. That’s why, right now, I’m sitting in a little cafe on my college campus in early July applying for this scholarship to help cover expenses for my summer classes instead of shrinking in depression over the fact that my mom (my best friend) has recently been diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. When I was a young girl, I used to be very sensitive and emotional. I would cry at the sight of others in pain even if it were just a scene in a movie. I still deeply feel those same emotions, but my instinct is no longer to cry. Life has rationalized me to such an extent that I just fast forward to the part where I act in response to the event or emotion. So, what I did in that instant is grab my laptop and drop all my spring quarter classes. Family before self. Family before anything. But, my mother, being the bravest, most selfless person I know, insisted that I go back to school. Education is a seed that is birthed in the heart and mind of the student and flourishes into a big tree, the fruit of which can feed nations. I am a carrier of that seed. Little girls in poor villages everywhere need me. My future patients need me- my character and my skill set- and I must endure this pain to help them in theirs.

I'm a first-generation Arab-American female college student. I am double majoring in computational neuroscience and biochemistry (minoring in philosophy and bioethics) at the University of Washington in Seattle. I come from a low-income Middle Eastern family in Vancouver, Washington. I speak 3 languages fluently, run competitively in Cross Country and Track and Field, debate in Speech & Debate, serve at my church, work as a research assistant at Seattle Children’s Center for Integrative Brain Research, and volunteer as a blood donor ambassador with the American Red Cross, an experience which fundamentally My educational aspirations are to become an attending neurosurgeon and author. I wish to do so by excelling in my education as a current undergraduate, and equally doing so while obtaining both a medical and doctorate through UW’s Medical Scientist Training Program (combined MD/P.h.D program). As a professional, I hope to devote my time to serving patients clinically, as well as researching neural networks, deep brain stimulation, and neuromodulation. Life as a busy college student comes with its challenges, but I remember a time when life wasn’t so good, where I was none of the things I listed, and where I didn’t even have the opportunity to become any of it. I’m referring to the fact that I’m an immigrant from Northeast Africa, from a small village tucked away on the skirts of the Nile in El Minya, Egypt. Every generation of my family tree has been a wheat farmer. In our village, girls didn’t go to school. We barely had a single middle school. In some harvest seasons, the crops would perform so poorly that we survived solely on the food products from our animals because we couldn’t afford external purchases. I remember walking two miles at 5:45 am every morning to my elementary school, with an overworn backpack and twice-stitched sneakers. If there’s one thing my life has taught me, it is that some challenges are worth enduring: nothing replaces the strength and beauty of character that struggle forges in our souls. Sometimes the most beautiful stories come from the ugliest experiences- and no, it is never fair, and yet I don’t think we would like to have life any other way. That’s why, right now, I’m sitting in a little cafe on my college campus in mid-June applying for this scholarship to help cover expenses for my summer classes instead of shrinking in depression over the fact that my mom (my best friend) has recently been diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. When I was a young girl, I used to be very sensitive and emotional. I would cry at the sight of others in pain even if it were just a scene in a movie. I still deeply feel those same emotions, but my instinct is no longer to cry. Life has rationalized me to such an extent that I just fast forward to the part where I act in response to the event or emotion. So, what I did in that instant is grab my laptop and drop all my spring quarter classes. I was going to sit at home and take care of my mother. Family before self. Family before anything. Once again, I hope and pray for the strength to overcome this obstacle in my life. But I know that I must fight until that strength is forged. If anything, these experiences only deepen my compassion for those who are suffering in every form of the word. People are carriers of life, and life is so precious. Fundamentally, serving other people is at the heart and core of my existence and endeavors.

She inhabits an empowered and peaceful existence that maximizes every second of life and makes a difference in every soul she encounters.

When I lived the death of Paul, it felt like my own. His story became mine, his identity so close and similar to mine, often entwined and intersected at strange moments wherein I didn’t realize which inhale of oxygen is his and which is mine. I was lost in his mind, I dived like a thirsty beast into potent waters, circulating untouched territory of human greatness in thought and deed. All of the questions that Paul Kalanthi addressed in When Breath Becomes Air before cancer ate away at his neurons were eating away at mine, a first-generation Arab-American college student. I read hundreds of books in my lifetime of 18 years, always searching for a truth that can show me the meaning of my own existence, always yearning for an answer to all of the questions that caged my mind and left me ravaging the earth for more metaphors to fill my voids. I had so many capabilities, so many options, so many pursuits with which I could be successful. Like King Midas, everything I touched turned to gold, prospering and earning the praise of others, but none of it, none of it, was able to satisfy my own yearning for excellence; my need to perform a daily act that so aligns with my own personal truth, the core of my identity. That’s when I jet-crashed into Paul’s world, and it became mine... because in some real, intangible ways, it was. “...the mind was simply the operation of the brain, an idea that struck me with force; it startled my naive understanding of the world. Of course it must be true-what were our brains doing, otherwise? Though we had free will, we were also biological organisms-the brain was an organ subject to all the laws of physics, too!” (When Breath Becomes Air, Paul Kalanithi). I had never in all of my life as a reader, seen my own thoughts so nakedly painted by another person. Never have I, in any real-life relationship, felt as understood, as validated, as empowered, as when I read that text. All of my struggles made sense in the view of Paul’s early death and his life’s pursuit of meaning in literature and neurosurgery. The weight fell effortlessly off my shoulders, as I gripped the nuclei of my purpose. In truth, I had known it all along, but it took the toil of years of exploration, digging out all the gunk and scum that lay atop. I had known it from the way I pored over my Anatomy and Physiology textbooks; from each medical scan I watched of the patients that inspired my poetry; from the euphoria of writing 4 am blog posts on spirituality and health, after which the pleasure fueled AP Biology study sessions. What I found was little DNA of a neurosurgeon-neuroscientist and a writer: I will investigate all of the accounts of human meaning found in literature and philosophy, and then I will study how the brain biologically enables that meaning. When others lose that ability, I want to put it back in them through functional neurosurgery. I closed my eyes on that thought and smiled with profound acceptance: this is the one path I happily choose to walk till death meets me wherever it chooses.

I'm a first-generation Arab-American female college student. I am double majoring in computational neuroscience and biochemistry (minoring in philosophy and bioethics) at the University of Washington in Seattle. I come from a low-income Middle Eastern family in Vancouver, Washington. I speak 3 languages fluently, run competitively in Cross Country and Track and Field, debate in Speech & Debate, work as a research assistant at Seattle Children’s Center for Integrative Brain Research, and volunteer as a blood donor ambassador with the American Red Cross. My educational aspirations are to become an attending neurosurgeon and author. I wish to do so by excelling in my education as a current undergraduate, and equally doing so while obtaining both a medical and doctorate through UW’s Medical Scientist Training Program (combined MD/P.h.D program). As a professional, I hope to devote my time to serving patients clinically, as well as researching neural networks, deep brain stimulation, and neuromodulation. Life as a busy college student comes with its challenges, but I remember a time when life wasn’t so good, where I was none of the things I listed, and where I didn’t even have the opportunity to become any of it. I’m referring to the fact that I’m an immigrant from Northeast Africa, from a small village tucked away on the skirts of the Nile in El Minya, Egypt. Every generation of my family tree has been a wheat farmer. In our village, girls didn’t go to school. We barely had a single middle school. In some harvest seasons, the crops would perform so poorly that we survived solely on the food products from our animals because we couldn’t afford external purchases. I remember walking two miles at 5:45 am every morning to my elementary school, with an overworn backpack and twice-stitched sneakers. If there’s one thing my life has taught me, it is that some challenges are worth enduring: nothing replaces the strength and beauty of character that struggle forges in our souls. Sometimes the most beautiful stories come from the ugliest experiences- and no, it is never fair, and yet I don’t think we would like to have life any other way. That’s why, right now, I’m sitting in a little cafe on my college campus in early July applying for this scholarship to help cover expenses for my summer classes instead of shrinking in depression over the fact that my mom (my best friend) has recently been diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. When I was a young girl, I used to be very sensitive and emotional. I would cry at the sight of others in pain even if it were just a scene in a movie. I still deeply feel those same emotions, but my instinct is no longer to cry. Life has rationalized me to such an extent that I just fast forward to the part where I act in response to the event or emotion. So, what I did in that instant is grab my laptop and drop all my spring quarter classes. Family before self. Family before anything. But, my mother, being the bravest, most selfless person I know, insisted that I go back to school. Education is a seed that is birthed in the heart and mind of the student and flourishes into a big tree, the fruit of which can feed nations. I am a carrier of that seed. Little girls in poor villages everywhere need me. My future patients need me- my character and my skill set- and I must endure this pain to help them in theirs.

I'm a first-generation Arab-American female college student. I am double majoring in computational neuroscience and biochemistry (minoring in philosophy and bioethics) at the University of Washington in Seattle. I come from a low-income Middle Eastern family in Vancouver, Washington. I speak 3 languages fluently, run competitively in Cross Country and Track and Field, debate in Speech & Debate, serve at my church, work as a research assistant at Seattle Children’s Center for Integrative Brain Research, and volunteer as a blood donor ambassador with the American Red Cross. My educational aspirations are to become an attending neurosurgeon and author. I wish to do so by excelling in my education as a current undergraduate, and equally doing so while obtaining both a medical and doctorate through UW’s Medical Scientist Training Program (combined MD/P.h.D program). As a professional, I hope to devote my time to serving patients clinically, as well as researching neural networks, deep brain stimulation, and neuromodulation. Life as a busy college student comes with its challenges, but I remember a time when life wasn’t so good, where I was none of the things I listed, and where I didn’t even have the opportunity to become any of it. I’m referring to the fact that I’m an immigrant from Northeast Africa, from a small village tucked away on the skirts of the Nile in El Minya, Egypt. Every generation of my family tree has been a wheat farmer. In our village, girls didn’t go to school. We barely had a single middle school. In some harvest seasons, the crops would perform so poorly that we survived solely on the food products from our animals because we couldn’t afford external purchases. I remember walking two miles at 5:45 am every morning to my elementary school, with an overworn backpack and twice-stitched sneakers. If there’s one thing my life has taught me, it is that some challenges are worth enduring: nothing replaces the strength and beauty of character that struggle forges in our souls. Sometimes the most beautiful stories come from the ugliest experiences- and no, it is never fair, and yet I don’t think we would like to have life any other way. That’s why, right now, I’m sitting in a little cafe on my college campus in mid-June applying for this scholarship to help cover expenses for my summer classes instead of shrinking in depression over the fact that my mom (my best friend) has recently been diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. When I was a young girl, I used to be very sensitive and emotional. I would cry at the sight of others in pain even if it were just a scene in a movie. I still deeply feel those same emotions, but my instinct is no longer to cry. Life has rationalized me to such an extent that I just fast forward to the part where I act in response to the event or emotion. So, what I did in that instant is grab my laptop and drop all my spring quarter classes. Family before self. Family before anything. But, my mother, being the bravest, most selfless person I know, insisted that I go back to school. Education is a seed that is birthed in the heart and mind of the student and flourishes into a big tree, the fruit of which can feed nations. I am a carrier of that seed. Little girls in poor villages everywhere need me. My future patients need me- my character and my skill set- and I must endure this pain to help them in theirs.

I'm a first-generation Arab-American female college student. I am double majoring in computational neuroscience and biochemistry (minoring in philosophy and bioethics) at the University of Washington in Seattle. I come from a low-income Middle Eastern family in Vancouver, Washington. I speak 3 languages fluently, run competitively in Cross Country and Track and Field, debate in Speech & Debate, serve at my church, work as a research assistant at Seattle Children’s Center for Integrative Brain Research, and volunteer as a blood donor ambassador with the American Red Cross. My educational aspirations are to become an attending neurosurgeon and author. I wish to do so by excelling in my education as a current undergraduate, and equally doing so while obtaining both a medical and doctorate through UW’s Medical Scientist Training Program (combined MD/P.h.D program). As a professional, I hope to devote my time to serving patients clinically, as well as researching neural networks, deep brain stimulation, and neuromodulation. Life as a busy college student comes with its challenges, but I remember a time when life wasn’t so good, where I was none of the things I listed, and where I didn’t even have the opportunity to become any of it. I’m referring to the fact that I’m an immigrant from Northeast Africa, from a small village tucked away on the skirts of the Nile in El Minya, Egypt. Every generation of my family tree has been a wheat farmer. In our village, girls didn’t go to school. We barely had a single middle school. In some harvest seasons, the crops would perform so poorly that we survived solely on the food products from our animals because we couldn’t afford external purchases. I remember walking two miles at 5:45 am every morning to my elementary school, with an overworn backpack and twice-stitched sneakers. If there’s one thing my life has taught me, it is that some challenges are worth enduring: nothing replaces the strength and beauty of character that struggle forges in our souls. Sometimes the most beautiful stories come from the ugliest experiences- and no, it is never fair, and yet I don’t think we would like to have life any other way. That’s why, right now, I’m sitting in a little cafe on my college campus in mid-June applying for this scholarship to help cover expenses for my summer classes instead of shrinking in depression over the fact that my mom (my best friend) has recently been diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. When I was a young girl, I used to be very sensitive and emotional. I would cry at the sight of others in pain even if it were just a scene in a movie. I still deeply feel those same emotions, but my instinct is no longer to cry. Life has rationalized me to such an extent that I just fast forward to the part where I act in response to the event or emotion. So, what I did in that instant is grab my laptop and drop all my spring quarter classes. Family before self. Family before anything. But, my mother, being the bravest, most selfless person I know, insisted that I go back to school. Education is a seed that is birthed in the heart and mind of the student and flourishes into a big tree, the fruit of which can feed nations. I am a carrier of that seed. Little girls in poor villages everywhere need me. My future patients need me- my character and my skill set- and I must endure this pain to help them in theirs.

I'm a first-generation Arab-American female college student. I am double majoring in computational neuroscience and biochemistry (minoring in philosophy and bioethics) at the University of Washington in Seattle. I come from a low-income Middle Eastern family in Vancouver, Washington. I speak 3 languages fluently, run competitively in Cross Country and Track and Field, debate in Speech & Debate, serve at my church, work as a research assistant at Seattle Children’s Center for Integrative Brain Research, and volunteer as a blood donor ambassador with the American Red Cross. My educational aspirations are to become an attending neurosurgeon and author. I wish to do so by excelling in my education as a current undergraduate, and equally doing so while obtaining both a medical and doctorate through UW’s Medical Scientist Training Program (combined MD/P.h.D program). As a professional, I hope to devote my time to serving patients clinically, as well as researching neural networks, deep brain stimulation, and neuromodulation. Life as a busy college student comes with its challenges, but I remember a time when life wasn’t so good, where I was none of the things I listed, and where I didn’t even have the opportunity to become any of it. I’m referring to the fact that I’m an immigrant from Northeast Africa, from a small village tucked away on the skirts of the Nile in El Minya, Egypt. Every generation of my family tree has been a wheat farmer. In our village, girls didn’t go to school. We barely had a single middle school. In some harvest seasons, the crops would perform so poorly that we survived solely on the food products from our animals because we couldn’t afford external purchases. I remember walking two miles at 5:45 am every morning to my elementary school, with an overworn backpack and twice-stitched sneakers. If there’s one thing my life has taught me, it is that some challenges are worth enduring: nothing replaces the strength and beauty of character that struggle forges in our souls. Sometimes the most beautiful stories come from the ugliest experiences- and no, it is never fair, and yet I don’t think we would like to have life any other way. That’s why, right now, I’m sitting in a little cafe on my college campus in mid-June applying for this scholarship to help cover expenses for my summer classes instead of shrinking in depression over the fact that my mom (my best friend) has recently been diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. When I was a young girl, I used to be very sensitive and emotional. I would cry at the sight of others in pain even if it were just a scene in a movie. I still deeply feel those same emotions, but my instinct is no longer to cry. Life has rationalized me to such an extent that I just fast forward to the part where I act in response to the event or emotion. So, what I did in that instant is grab my laptop and drop all my spring quarter classes. Family before self. Family before anything. But, my mother, being the bravest, most selfless person I know, insisted that I go back to school. Education is a seed that is birthed in the heart and mind of the student and flourishes into a big tree, the fruit of which can feed nations. I am a carrier of that seed. Little girls in poor villages everywhere need me. My future patients need me- my character and my skill set- and I must endure this pain to help them in theirs- that's what makes me a leader.

I'm a first-generation Arab-American female college student. I am double majoring in computational neuroscience and biochemistry (minoring in philosophy and bioethics) at the University of Washington in Seattle. I come from a low-income Middle Eastern family in Vancouver, Washington. I speak 3 languages fluently, run competitively in Cross Country and Track and Field, debate in Speech & Debate, serve at my church, work as a research assistant at Seattle Children’s Center for Integrative Brain Research, and volunteer as a blood donor ambassador with the American Red Cross. My educational aspirations are to become an attending neurosurgeon and author. I wish to do so by excelling in my education as a current undergraduate, and equally doing so while obtaining both a medical and doctorate through UW’s Medical Scientist Training Program (combined MD/P.h.D program). As a professional, I hope to devote my time to serving patients clinically, as well as researching neural networks, deep brain stimulation, and neuromodulation. Life as a busy college student comes with its challenges, but I remember a time when life wasn’t so good, where I was none of the things I listed, and where I didn’t even have the opportunity to become any of it. I’m referring to the fact that I’m an immigrant from Northeast Africa, from a small village tucked away on the skirts of the Nile in El Minya, Egypt. Every generation of my family tree has been a wheat farmer. In our village, girls didn’t go to school. We barely had a single middle school. In some harvest seasons, the crops would perform so poorly that we survived solely on the food products from our animals because we couldn’t afford external purchases. I remember walking two miles at 5:45 am every morning to my elementary school, with an overworn backpack and twice-stitched sneakers. If there’s one thing my life has taught me, it is that some challenges are worth enduring: nothing replaces the strength and beauty of character that struggle forges in our souls. Sometimes the most beautiful stories come from the ugliest experiences- and no, it is never fair, and yet I don’t think we would like to have life any other way. That’s why, right now, I’m sitting in a little cafe on my college campus in mid-June applying for this scholarship to help cover expenses for my summer classes instead of shrinking in depression over the fact that my mom (my best friend) has recently been diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. When I was a young girl, I used to be very sensitive and emotional. I would cry at the sight of others in pain even if it were just a scene in a movie. I still deeply feel those same emotions, but my instinct is no longer to cry. Life has rationalized me to such an extent that I just fast forward to the part where I act in response to the event or emotion. So, what I did in that instant is grab my laptop and drop all my spring quarter classes. Family before self. Family before anything. But, my mother, being the bravest, most selfless person I know, insisted that I go back to school. Education is a seed that is birthed in the heart and mind of the student and flourishes into a big tree, the fruit of which can feed nations. I am a carrier of that seed. Little girls in poor villages everywhere need me. My future patients need me- my character and my skill set- and I must endure this pain to help them in theirs.

I'm a first-generation Arab-American college student. I am double majoring in computational neuroscience and biochemistry (minoring in philosophy and bioethics) at the University of Washington in Seattle. I come from a low-income Middle Eastern family in Vancouver, Washington. I speak 3 languages fluently, run competitively in Cross Country and Track and Field, debate in Speech & Debate, serve at my church, work as a research assistant at Seattle Children’s Center for Integrative Brain Research, and volunteer as a blood donor ambassador with the American Red Cross, an experience that radically changed my life. My educational aspirations are to become an attending neurosurgeon and author. I wish to do so by excelling in my education as a current undergraduate, and equally doing so while obtaining both a medical and doctorate through UW’s Medical Scientist Training Program (combined MD/P.h.D program). As a professional, I hope to devote my time to serving patients clinically, as well as researching neural networks, deep brain stimulation, and neuromodulation. Life as a busy college student comes with its challenges, but I remember a time when life wasn’t so good, where I was none of the things I listed, and where I didn’t even have the opportunity to become any of it. I’m referring to the fact that I’m an immigrant from Northeast Africa, from a small village tucked away on the skirts of the Nile in El Minya, Egypt. Every generation of my family tree has been a wheat farmer. In our village, girls didn’t go to school. We barely had a single middle school. In some harvest seasons, the crops would perform so poorly that we survived solely on the food products from our animals because we couldn’t afford external purchases. I remember walking two miles at 5:45 am every morning to my elementary school, with an overworn backpack and twice-stitched sneakers. If there’s one thing my life has taught me, it is that some challenges are worth enduring: nothing replaces the strength and beauty of character that struggle forges in our souls. Sometimes the most beautiful stories come from the ugliest experiences- and no, it is never fair, and yet I don’t think we would like to have life any other way. That’s why, right now, I’m sitting in a little cafe on my college campus in mid-June applying for this scholarship to help cover expenses for my summer classes instead of shrinking in depression over the fact that my mom (my best friend) has recently been diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. When I was a young girl, I used to be very sensitive and emotional. I would cry at the sight of others in pain even if it were just a scene in a movie. I still deeply feel those same emotions, but my instinct is no longer to cry. Life has rationalized me to such an extent that I just fast forward to the part where I act in response to the event or emotion. So, what I did in that instant is grab my laptop and drop all my spring quarter classes. Family before self. Family before anything. But, my mother, being the bravest, most selfless person I know, insisted that I go back to school. Education is a seed that is birthed in the heart and mind of the student and flourishes into a big tree, the fruit of which can feed nations. I am a carrier of that seed. Little girls in poor villages everywhere need me. My future patients need me- my character and my skill set- and I must endure this pain to help them in theirs.

I'm a first-generation Arab-American college student. I am double majoring in computational neuroscience and biochemistry (minoring in philosophy and bioethics) at the University of Washington in Seattle. I come from a low-income Middle Eastern family in Vancouver, Washington. I speak 3 languages fluently, run competitively in Cross Country and Track and Field, debate in Speech & Debate, serve at my church, work as a research assistant at Seattle Children’s Center for Integrative Brain Research, and volunteer as a blood donor ambassador with the American Red Cross. My educational aspirations are to become an attending neurosurgeon and author. I wish to do so by excelling in my education as a current undergraduate, and equally doing so while obtaining both a medical and doctorate through UW’s Medical Scientist Training Program (combined MD/P.h.D program). As a professional, I hope to devote my time to serving patients clinically, as well as researching neural networks, deep brain stimulation, and neuromodulation. Life as a busy college student comes with its challenges, but I remember a time when life wasn’t so good, where I was none of the things I listed, and where I didn’t even have the opportunity to become any of it. I’m referring to the fact that I’m an immigrant from Northeast Africa, from a small village tucked away on the skirts of the Nile in El Minya, Egypt. Every generation of my family tree has been a wheat farmer. In our village, girls didn’t go to school. We barely had a single middle school. In some harvest seasons, the crops would perform so poorly that we survived solely on the food products from our animals because we couldn’t afford external purchases. I remember walking two miles at 5:45 am every morning to my elementary school, with an overworn backpack and twice-stitched sneakers. If there’s one thing my life has taught me, it is that some challenges are worth enduring: nothing replaces the strength and beauty of character that struggle forges in our souls. Sometimes the most beautiful stories come from the ugliest experiences- and no, it is never fair, and yet I don’t think we would like to have life any other way. That’s why, right now, I’m sitting in a little cafe on my college campus in mid-June applying for this scholarship to help cover expenses for my summer classes instead of shrinking in depression over the fact that my mom (my best friend) has recently been diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. It has been about 3 months since I received the news. I remember my mouth drying up so quickly as if all the saliva got sucked by a dental tool when I saw the mammary scan appointment papers on my parents’ fridge when I went home for a visit during spring break. As a future physician in training, I immediately knew what those papers meant. I needed no further explanation. When I was a young girl, I used to be very sensitive and emotional. I would cry at the sight of others in pain even if it were just a scene in a movie. I still deeply feel those same emotions, but my instinct is no longer to cry. Life has rationalized me to such an extent that I just fast forward to the part where I act in response to the event or emotion. So, what I did in that instant is grab my laptop and drop all my spring quarter classes. I was going to sit at home and take care of my mother. Family before self. Family before anything. But, my mother, being the bravest, most selfless person I know, insisted that I go back to school and continue my education. She reminded me how much she and my dad fought to give my siblings and me this opportunity. Education is a seed that is birthed in the heart and mind of the student and flourishes into a big tree, the fruit of which can feed nations. I am a carrier of that seed. Nations depend on me. Little girls in poor villages everywhere need me. My future patients need me- my character and my skill set- and I must endure this pain to help them in theirs. Once again, I hope and pray for the strength to overcome this obstacle in my life. But I know that I must fight until that strength is forged. These aren’t just classes, lectures, homework assignments, or exams; they are my battle song, my armor.

I'm a first-generation Arab-American college student. I am double majoring in computational neuroscience and biochemistry (minoring in philosophy and bioethics) at the University of Washington in Seattle. I come from a low-income Middle Eastern family in Vancouver, Washington. I speak 3 languages fluently, run competitively in Cross Country and Track and Field, debate in Speech & Debate, serve at my church, work as a research assistant at Seattle Children’s Center for Integrative Brain Research, and volunteer as a blood donor ambassador with the American Red Cross. My educational aspirations are to become an attending neurosurgeon and author. I wish to do so by excelling in my education as a current undergraduate, and equally doing so while obtaining both a medical and doctorate through UW’s Medical Scientist Training Program (combined MD/P.h.D program). As a professional, I hope to devote my time to serving patients clinically, as well as researching neural networks, deep brain stimulation, and neuromodulation. Life as a busy college student comes with its challenges, but I remember a time when life wasn’t so good, where I was none of the things I listed, and where I didn’t even have the opportunity to become any of it. I’m referring to the fact that I’m an immigrant from Northeast Africa, from a small village tucked away on the skirts of the Nile in El Minya, Egypt. Every generation of my family tree has been a wheat farmer. In our village, girls didn’t go to school. We barely had a single middle school. In some harvest seasons, the crops would perform so poorly that we survived solely on the food products from our animals because we couldn’t afford external purchases. I remember walking two miles at 5:45 am every morning to my elementary school, with an overworn backpack and twice-stitched sneakers. If there’s one thing my life has taught me, it is that some challenges are worth enduring: nothing replaces the strength and beauty of character that struggle forges in our souls. Sometimes the most beautiful stories come from the ugliest experiences- and no, it is never fair, and yet I don’t think we would like to have life any other way. That’s why, right now, I’m sitting in a little cafe on my college campus in mid-June applying for this scholarship to help cover expenses for my summer classes instead of shrinking in depression over the fact that my mom (my best friend) has recently been diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. When I was a young girl, I used to be very sensitive and emotional. I would cry at the sight of others in pain even if it were just a scene in a movie. I still deeply feel those same emotions, but my instinct is no longer to cry. Life has rationalized me to such an extent that I just fast forward to the part where I act in response to the event or emotion. So, what I did in that instant is grab my laptop and drop all my spring quarter classes. Family before self. Family before anything. But, my mother, being the bravest, most selfless person I know, insisted that I go back to school. Education is a seed that is birthed in the heart and mind of the student and flourishes into a big tree, the fruit of which can feed nations. I am a carrier of that seed. Little girls in poor villages everywhere need me. My future patients need me- my character and my skill set- and I must endure this pain to help them in theirs.

I'm a first-generation Arab-American female college student. I am double majoring in computational neuroscience and biochemistry (minoring in philosophy and bioethics) at the University of Washington in Seattle. I come from a low-income Middle Eastern family in Vancouver, Washington. I speak 3 languages fluently, run competitively in Cross Country and Track and Field, debate in Speech & Debate, serve at my church, work as a research assistant at Seattle Children’s Center for Integrative Brain Research, and volunteer as a blood donor ambassador with the American Red Cross. My educational aspirations are to become an attending neurosurgeon and author. I wish to do so by excelling in my education as a current undergraduate, and equally doing so while obtaining both a medical and doctorate through UW’s Medical Scientist Training Program (combined MD/P.h.D program). As a professional, I hope to devote my time to serving patients clinically, as well as researching neural networks, deep brain stimulation, and neuromodulation. Life as a busy college student comes with its challenges, but I remember a time when life wasn’t so good, where I was none of the things I listed, and where I didn’t even have the opportunity to become any of it. I’m referring to the fact that I’m an immigrant from Northeast Africa, from a small village tucked away on the skirts of the Nile in El Minya, Egypt. Every generation of my family tree has been a wheat farmer. In our village, girls didn’t go to school. We barely had a single middle school. In some harvest seasons, the crops would perform so poorly that we survived solely on the food products from our animals because we couldn’t afford external purchases. I remember walking two miles at 5:45 am every morning to my elementary school, with an overworn backpack and twice-stitched sneakers. If there’s one thing my life has taught me, it is that some challenges are worth enduring: nothing replaces the strength and beauty of character that struggle forges in our souls. Sometimes the most beautiful stories come from the ugliest experiences- and no, it is never fair, and yet I don’t think we would like to have life any other way. That’s why, right now, I’m sitting in a little cafe on my college campus in mid-June applying for this scholarship to help cover expenses for my summer classes instead of shrinking in depression over the fact that my mom (my best friend) has recently been diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. When I was a young girl, I used to be very sensitive and emotional. I would cry at the sight of others in pain even if it were just a scene in a movie. I still deeply feel those same emotions, but my instinct is no longer to cry. Life has rationalized me to such an extent that I just fast forward to the part where I act in response to the event or emotion. So, what I did in that instant is grab my laptop and drop all my spring quarter classes. Family before self. Family before anything. But, my mother, being the bravest, most selfless person I know, insisted that I go back to school. Education is a seed that is birthed in the heart and mind of the student and flourishes into a big tree, the fruit of which can feed nations. I am a carrier of that seed. Little girls in poor villages everywhere need me. My future patients need me- my character and my skill set- and I must endure this pain to help them in theirs.

I'm a first-generation Arab-American college student. I am double majoring in computational neuroscience and biochemistry (minoring in philosophy and bioethics) at the University of Washington in Seattle. I come from a low-income Middle Eastern family in Vancouver, Washington. I speak 3 languages fluently, run competitively in Cross Country and Track and Field, debate in Speech & Debate, serve at my church, work as a research assistant at Seattle Children’s Center for Integrative Brain Research, and volunteer as a blood donor ambassador with the American Red Cross. My educational aspirations are to become an attending neurosurgeon and author. I wish to do so by excelling in my education as a current undergraduate, and equally doing so while obtaining both a medical and doctorate through UW’s Medical Scientist Training Program (combined MD/P.h.D program). As a professional, I hope to devote my time to serving patients clinically, as well as researching neural networks, deep brain stimulation, and neuromodulation. Life as a busy college student comes with its challenges, but I remember a time when life wasn’t so good, where I was none of the things I listed, and where I didn’t even have the opportunity to become any of it. I’m referring to the fact that I’m an immigrant from Northeast Africa, from a small village tucked away on the skirts of the Nile in El Minya, Egypt. Every generation of my family tree has been a wheat farmer. In our village, girls didn’t go to school. We barely had a single middle school. In some harvest seasons, the crops would perform so poorly that we survived solely on the food products from our animals because we couldn’t afford external purchases. I remember walking two miles at 5:45 am every morning to my elementary school, with an overworn backpack and twice-stitched sneakers. If there’s one thing my life has taught me, it is that some challenges are worth enduring: nothing replaces the strength and beauty of character that struggle forges in our souls. Sometimes the most beautiful stories come from the ugliest experiences- and no, it is never fair, and yet I don’t think we would like to have life any other way. That’s why, right now, I’m sitting in a little cafe on my college campus in mid-June applying for this scholarship to help cover expenses for my summer classes instead of shrinking in depression over the fact that my mom (my best friend) has recently been diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. When I was a young girl, I used to be very sensitive and emotional. I would cry at the sight of others in pain even if it were just a scene in a movie. I still deeply feel those same emotions, but my instinct is no longer to cry. Life has rationalized me to such an extent that I just fast forward to the part where I act in response to the event or emotion. So, what I did in that instant is grab my laptop and drop all my spring quarter classes. Family before self. Family before anything. But, my mother, being the bravest, most selfless person I know, insisted that I go back to school. Education is a seed that is birthed in the heart and mind of the student and flourishes into a big tree, the fruit of which can feed nations. I am a carrier of that seed. Little girls in poor villages everywhere need me. My future patients need me- my character and my skill set- and I must endure this pain to help them in theirs.

I'm a first-generation Arab-American college student. I am double majoring in computational neuroscience and biochemistry (minoring in philosophy and bioethics) at the University of Washington in Seattle. I come from a low-income Middle Eastern family in Vancouver, Washington. I speak 3 languages fluently, run competitively in Cross Country and Track and Field, debate in Speech & Debate, serve at my church, work as a research assistant at Seattle Children’s Center for Integrative Brain Research, and volunteer as a blood donor ambassador with the American Red Cross. My educational aspirations are to become an attending neurosurgeon and author. I wish to do so by excelling in my education as a current undergraduate, and equally doing so while obtaining both a medical and doctorate through UW’s Medical Scientist Training Program (combined MD/P.h.D program). As a professional, I hope to devote my time to serving patients clinically, as well as researching neural networks, deep brain stimulation, and neuromodulation. Life as a busy college student comes with its challenges, but I remember a time when life wasn’t so good, where I was none of the things I listed, and where I didn’t even have the opportunity to become any of it. I’m referring to the fact that I’m an immigrant from Northeast Africa, from a small village tucked away on the skirts of the Nile in El Minya, Egypt. Every generation of my family tree has been a wheat farmer. In our village, girls didn’t go to school. We barely had a single middle school. In some harvest seasons, the crops would perform so poorly that we survived solely on the food products from our animals because we couldn’t afford external purchases. I remember walking two miles at 5:45 am every morning to my elementary school, with an overworn backpack and twice-stitched sneakers. If there’s one thing my life has taught me, it is that some challenges are worth enduring: nothing replaces the strength and beauty of character that struggle forges in our souls. Sometimes the most beautiful stories come from the ugliest experiences- and no, it is never fair, and yet I don’t think we would like to have life any other way. That’s why, right now, I’m sitting in a little cafe on my college campus in mid-June applying for this scholarship to help cover expenses for my summer classes instead of shrinking in depression over the fact that my mom (my best friend) has recently been diagnosed with a deadly chronic disease. When I was a young girl, I used to be very sensitive and emotional. I would cry at the sight of others in pain even if it were just a scene in a movie. I still deeply feel those same emotions, but my instinct is no longer to cry. Life has rationalized me to such an extent that I just fast forward to the part where I act in response to the event or emotion. So, what I did in that instant is grab my laptop and drop all my spring quarter classes. Family before self. Family before anything. But, my mother, being the bravest, most selfless person I know, insisted that I go back to school. Education is a seed that is birthed in the heart and mind of the student and flourishes into a big tree, the fruit of which can feed nations. I am a carrier of that seed. Little girls in poor villages everywhere need me. My future patients need me- my character and my skill set- and I must endure this pain to help them in theirs.

I'm a first-generation Arab-American college student. I am double majoring in computational neuroscience and biochemistry (minoring in philosophy and bioethics) at the University of Washington in Seattle. I come from a low-income Middle Eastern family in Vancouver, Washington. I speak 3 languages fluently, run competitively in Cross Country and Track and Field, debate in Speech & Debate, serve at my church, work as a research assistant at Seattle Children’s Center for Integrative Brain Research, and volunteer as a blood donor ambassador with the American Red Cross. My educational aspirations are to become an attending neurosurgeon and author. I wish to do so by excelling in my education as a current undergraduate, and equally doing so while obtaining both a medical and doctorate through UW’s Medical Scientist Training Program (combined MD/P.h.D program). As a professional, I hope to devote my time to serving patients clinically, as well as researching neural networks, deep brain stimulation, and neuromodulation. Life as a busy college student comes with its challenges, but I remember a time when life wasn’t so good, where I was none of the things I listed, and where I didn’t even have the opportunity to become any of it. I’m referring to the fact that I’m an immigrant from Northeast Africa, from a small village tucked away on the skirts of the Nile in El Minya, Egypt. Every generation of my family tree has been a wheat farmer. In our village, girls didn’t go to school. We barely had a single middle school. In some harvest seasons, the crops would perform so poorly that we survived solely on the food products from our animals because we couldn’t afford external purchases. I remember walking two miles at 5:45 am every morning to my elementary school, with an overworn backpack and twice-stitched sneakers. If there’s one thing my life has taught me, it is that some challenges are worth enduring: nothing replaces the strength and beauty of character that struggle forges in our souls. Sometimes the most beautiful stories come from the ugliest experiences- and no, it is never fair, and yet I don’t think we would like to have life any other way. That’s why, right now, I’m sitting in a little cafe on my college campus in mid-June applying for this scholarship to help cover expenses for my summer classes instead of shrinking in depression over the fact that my mom (my best friend) has recently been diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. When I was a young girl, I used to be very sensitive and emotional. I would cry at the sight of others in pain even if it were just a scene in a movie. I still deeply feel those same emotions, but my instinct is no longer to cry. Life has rationalized me to such an extent that I just fast forward to the part where I act in response to the event or emotion. So, what I did in that instant is grab my laptop and drop all my spring quarter classes. Family before self. Family before anything. But, my mother, being the bravest, most selfless person I know, insisted that I go back to school. Education is a seed that is birthed in the heart and mind of the student and flourishes into a big tree, the fruit of which can feed nations. I am a carrier of that seed. Little girls in poor villages everywhere need me. My future patients need me- my character and my skill set- and I must endure this pain to help them in theirs.

I'm a first-generation Arab-American college student. I am double majoring in computational neuroscience and biochemistry (minoring in philosophy and bioethics) at the University of Washington in Seattle. I come from a low-income Middle Eastern family in Vancouver, Washington. I speak 3 languages fluently, run competitively in Cross Country and Track and Field, debate in Speech & Debate, serve at my church, work as a research assistant at Seattle Children’s Center for Integrative Brain Research, and volunteer as a blood donor ambassador with the American Red Cross. My educational aspirations are to become an attending neurosurgeon and author. I wish to do so by excelling in my education as a current undergraduate, and equally doing so while obtaining both a medical and doctorate through UW’s Medical Scientist Training Program (combined MD/P.h.D program). As a professional, I hope to devote my time to serving patients clinically, as well as researching neural networks, deep brain stimulation, and neuromodulation. Life as a busy college student comes with its challenges, but I remember a time when life wasn’t so good, where I was none of the things I listed, and where I didn’t even have the opportunity to become any of it. I’m referring to the fact that I’m an immigrant from Northeast Africa, from a small village tucked away on the skirts of the Nile in El Minya, Egypt. Every generation of my family tree has been a wheat farmer. In our village, girls didn’t go to school. We barely had a single middle school. In some harvest seasons, the crops would perform so poorly that we survived solely on the food products from our animals because we couldn’t afford external purchases. I remember walking two miles at 5:45 am every morning to my elementary school, with an overworn backpack and twice-stitched sneakers. If there’s one thing my life has taught me, it is that some challenges are worth enduring: nothing replaces the strength and beauty of character that struggle forges in our souls. Sometimes the most beautiful stories come from the ugliest experiences- and no, it is never fair, and yet I don’t think we would like to have life any other way. That’s why, right now, I’m sitting in a little cafe on my college campus in mid-June applying for this scholarship to help cover expenses for my summer classes instead of shrinking in depression over the fact that my mom (my best friend) has recently been diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. When I was a young girl, I used to be very sensitive and emotional. I would cry at the sight of others in pain even if it were just a scene in a movie. I still deeply feel those same emotions, but my instinct is no longer to cry. Life has rationalized me to such an extent that I just fast forward to the part where I act in response to the event or emotion. So, what I did in that instant is grab my laptop and drop all my spring quarter classes. Family before self. Family before anything. But, my mother, being the bravest, most selfless person I know, insisted that I go back to school. Education is a seed that is birthed in the heart and mind of the student and flourishes into a big tree, the fruit of which can feed nations. I am a carrier of that seed. Little girls in poor villages everywhere need me. My future patients need me- my character and my skill set- and I must endure this pain to help them in theirs.

I'm a first generation Arab-American college student. I am double majoring in computational neuroscience and biochemistry (minoring in philosophy and bioethics) at the University of Washington in Seattle. I come from a low-income Middle Eastern family in Vancouver, Washington. I speak 3 languages fluently, run competitively in Cross Country and Track and Field, debate in Speech & Debate, serve at church, work as a research assistant at Seattle Children’s Center for Integrative Brain Research, and volunteer as a blood donor ambassador with the American Red Cross. My educational aspirations are to become an attending neurosurgeon and author. I wish to do so through excelling in my education as a current undergraduate, and equally doing so while obtaining both a medical and doctorate degree through UW’s Medical Scientist Training Program (combined MD/Ph.D. program). As a professional, I hope to devote my time to serving patients clinically, as well as conducting research on neural networks, deep brain stimulation, and neuromodulation. Life as a busy college student definitely comes with its challenges, but I remember a time when life wasn’t so good, where I was none of the things I listed, and where I didn’t even have the opportunity to become any of it. I’m referring to the fact that I’m an immigrant from Northeast Africa, coming from a small village tucked away on the skirts of the Nile in El Minya, Egypt. Every generation of my family tree has been wheat farmers. In our village, girls didn’t go to school. We barely had a single middle school. Some harvest seasons the crops would perform so poorly that we survived solely on the food products from our animals because we couldn’t afford external purchases. I remember walking two miles at 5:45 am every morning to my elementary school, with an overworn backpack and twice-stitched sneakers. If there’s one thing my life has taught me, it is that some challenges are worth enduring: nothing replaces the strength and beauty of character that struggle forges in our souls. That’s why, right now, I’m sitting in a little cafe on my college campus in mid-June applying for this scholarship to help cover expenses for my summer classes instead of shrinking in depression over the fact that my mom (my best friend) has recently been diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. When I was a young girl, I used to be very sensitive and emotional. I would cry at the sight of others in pain even if it was just a scene in a movie. I still feel those same emotions deeply now, but my instinct is no longer to cry. Life has rationalized me to such an extent that I just fast forward to the part where I act in response to the event or emotion. So, what I did in that instant is grab my laptop and drop all my spring quarter classes. I was going to sit at home and take care of my mother. Family before self. Family before anything. But, my mother, being the bravest, most selfless person I know, insisted that I go back to school and continue my education. She reminded me how much she and my dad fought to give my siblings and me this opportunity. She reminded me of my life in Egypt. She reminded me that it would also be selfish of me to sit at home and not continue my schooling. Education is a seed that is birthed in the heart and mind of the student and flourishes into a big tree, the fruit of which can feed nations. I am a carrier of that seed.