One of the most compassionate interactions I have ever witnessed occurred during one of the most frightening moments of my life. When I was fourteen years old, my mother experienced a medical emergency while giving birth to my baby brother, Xavier. As the primary English speaker in my Haitian immigrant family, I was responsible for translating for my parents. What should have been one of the happiest days of our lives quickly became one of the most traumatic. I remember sitting in the hospital room as doctors rushed in and out. At one point, they expected me to translate information that no child should ever have to say to their parent. I was terrified. My hands were shaking, my heart was racing, and all I could think about was whether my mother and baby brother were going to survive. As the oldest daughter, I felt responsible for staying strong for my family, even though I was scared myself. In the middle of that chaos, one nurse stood out. While everyone else seemed focused on medical procedures and urgent decisions, she took the time to focus on us. She noticed how overwhelmed my family was and treated us with patience, kindness, and understanding. She explained what was happening in a way we could understand, answered every question I asked, and reassured my parents when fear and uncertainty took over. When Xavier was rushed to the NICU, I felt helpless. Seeing my tiny baby brother surrounded by tubes and machines broke my heart. The nurse gently explained his condition, what the machines were doing, and what we could expect in the coming days. She never made us feel like a burden for asking questions. Instead, she made us feel seen, heard, and cared for during one of the most difficult times in our lives. Her compassion did not change the medical emergency itself, but it changed how my family experienced it. She reminded me that healthcare is about more than treating a diagnosis. It is about supporting people when they are vulnerable, scared, and uncertain about the future. That experience had a profound impact on me and is one of the main reasons I want to become a nurse. I know what it feels like to be a frightened family member searching for answers and comfort. I want to be the nurse who listens, advocates, and provides reassurance when patients and families need it most. As someone who witnessed the effects of language barriers and disparities in healthcare, I hope to serve underserved communities and ensure that every patient feels valued and respected. The compassion that the nurse showed my family inspired me to pursue nursing and dedicate my life to helping others through their most challenging moments.

Hello, my name is Francisca Pierre. I am a first-generation Haitian American and the oldest daughter in my family. Growing up in Boston, I learned responsibility long before I understood the word itself. As the child of immigrant parents, I became the translator, advocate, and caretaker my family often depended on. Whether I was interpreting medical information, completing important paperwork, or helping raise my younger brothers, I learned that leadership is not about a title—it is about showing up for others when they need you most. My Haitian heritage has shaped every aspect of who I am. I was raised to value faith, hard work, and community. Watching my parents sacrifice endlessly to provide opportunities for our family taught me resilience. Despite financial hardships, language barriers, and health challenges, they never stopped fighting for a better future for us. Their strength inspires me every day. One experience changed the course of my life. At fourteen years old, I sat in a hospital room translating for my father during a medical emergency involving my mother. The doctors delivered heartbreaking news and expected me to explain it to him. My hands shook as I searched for the words. In that moment, I felt the weight of being the bridge between my family and a healthcare system they struggled to navigate. I realized how vulnerable patients and families can feel when language, culture, and access stand in the way of understanding. That experience ignited my passion for nursing. As a child of immigrants, I have learned to navigate two cultures. At home, I embraced Haitian traditions, language, and values. At school, I learned how to adapt to different environments and perspectives. Through internships at Boston Children’s Hospital, Dana-Farber Cancer Institute, and Harvard MedScience, I worked alongside healthcare professionals from diverse backgrounds and gained a deeper appreciation for culturally competent care. These experiences taught me that medicine is not only about treating illness—it is about listening, understanding, and advocating for people during some of the most difficult moments of their lives. My educational journey has also opened my eyes to the disparities that exist within healthcare, particularly for Black mothers and infants. As a young Black woman, these issues are deeply personal. I have learned that healthcare outcomes are often influenced by factors beyond medicine, including race, language, and socioeconomic status. This realization has strengthened my commitment to becoming a nurse who advocates for underserved communities and helps close these gaps. This fall, I will attend the University of Massachusetts Lowell to pursue a Bachelor of Science in Nursing. My long-term goal is to work in neonatal and maternal healthcare, where I can support mothers, newborns, and families during critical moments in their lives. I hope to use my education to improve health outcomes for Black women and infants while ensuring that every patient feels seen, heard, and respected. Receiving this scholarship would mean far more than financial assistance. It would ease the burden on my family as we navigate medical expenses and financial challenges, allowing me to focus on my education and professional growth. More importantly, it would be an investment in my dream of becoming a compassionate healthcare professional and advocate for those whose voices are too often overlooked. Every step I take toward my degree is a step toward giving back to the communities that shaped me and ensuring that families like mine receive the care, dignity, and support they deserve.

I believe I am a positive force in society because I use my experiences, skills, and compassion to help others. As the oldest daughter in a Haitian immigrant family, I have learned that being a positive influence is not always about making grand gestures. Often, it means showing up for people when they need support, advocating for those whose voices may not be heard, and creating opportunities for others to succeed. Currently, I serve as a positive force within my family and community. Growing up, I often acted as a translator for my parents, helping them navigate school systems, healthcare appointments, and important documents. This responsibility taught me the value of service and advocacy. It also helped me recognize how language barriers and lack of access to resources can make everyday tasks more difficult for many families. By helping my parents communicate and understand important information, I learned that even small acts of support can have a meaningful impact on someone's life. Outside of my family, I have worked to support others through leadership and healthcare experiences. As a student representative and captain of my school's first basketball cheer team, I helped create an environment where students felt included and supported. Through internships at healthcare institutions, including Boston Children's Hospital, I witnessed how compassion and empathy can positively affect patients and families. These experiences reinforced my desire to pursue a career in nursing, where I can continue helping people during some of the most challenging moments of their lives. In the future, I hope to expand my impact through a career in neonatal nursing. I am particularly passionate about addressing healthcare disparities that affect underserved communities and communities of color. I want to advocate for patients, provide culturally competent care, and help ensure that every family receives the respect and support they deserve. Ultimately, I hope to combine my professional knowledge with my personal experiences to improve healthcare outcomes for vulnerable populations. Current social norms have also shaped my thinking. We live in a society that is becoming increasingly aware of issues such as health inequities, mental health, representation, and access to opportunities. These conversations have encouraged me to think critically about how I can contribute to positive change. At the same time, I have observed that many people still face barriers because of language differences, economic challenges, or systemic inequalities. These realities motivate me to use my education and future career to help bridge those gaps. My experiences have taught me that positive change begins with empathy and action. Whether I am helping a family member understand a medical form, supporting a friend through a difficult time, or caring for future patients as a nurse, I strive to make a difference in the lives of others. I believe that by continuing to serve, advocate, and lead with compassion, I can remain a positive force in society both now and in the future.

One experience that shaped my understanding of mental health was the period when my father was battling cancer while I was trying to balance school, work, extracurricular activities, and family responsibilities. As the oldest daughter in a Haitian immigrant family, I often felt responsible for holding everything together. While I wanted to be strong for my family, there were times when the pressure became overwhelming. I remember coming home from school and immediately switching into a different role. Instead of focusing on homework or relaxing, I helped translate medical information, cared for my younger brothers, and assisted my parents with tasks they could not easily complete on their own. At the same time, I was trying to maintain good grades, participate in student leadership activities, work a part-time job, and prepare for college applications. For a long time, I convinced myself that I could handle everything alone. I rarely talked about how stressed I felt because I did not want to add to my family's worries. As the months went on, however, the stress began to affect me. I struggled to concentrate in class, lost sleep worrying about my father's health and my family's finances, and constantly felt exhausted. Even when I accomplished something, I immediately moved on to the next responsibility without allowing myself to feel proud or relieved. The turning point came when I realized that carrying every burden by myself was not sustainable. I began reaching out to trusted teachers, mentors, and friends when I needed support. I learned to organize my time more effectively, break large tasks into smaller goals, and permit myself to rest when needed. Most importantly, I learned that asking for help is not a sign of weakness—it is a sign of strength. Although that period of my life was incredibly difficult, it taught me valuable lessons about resilience, self-care, and mental health. It showed me that even the strongest people need support sometimes. It also made me more compassionate toward others because I understand that many people are facing challenges that are not visible from the outside. This experience has influenced my goal of becoming a nurse. I want to care for patients not only physically but emotionally as well. I know what it feels like to be overwhelmed by fear, uncertainty, and responsibility, and I want to help others navigate those moments with dignity and support. Looking back, my struggle taught me that mental health is not something that should be ignored. Taking care of ourselves allows us to better care for the people we love. The experience strengthened me, deepened my empathy, and continues to guide how I approach relationships, challenges, and my future healthcare career.

One of the most meaningful times I helped someone in need occurred during my internship at Boston Children's Hospital. As the daughter of Haitian immigrants, I grew up translating for my parents in many situations, including doctor appointments, school meetings, and important conversations. Because of this experience, I understand how stressful and isolating it can feel when you cannot fully communicate in English. During my internship, I met a parent who was struggling to communicate with hospital staff because English was not their first language. They appeared anxious and confused while trying to understand information being given to them about their child's care. Although interpreters are essential and hospitals have procedures in place, there was a moment when the parent seemed overwhelmed and unsure of what was happening. Seeing their concern reminded me of my own parents. I knew how frightening it can be to be in a hospital, especially when a loved one is receiving treatment, and you do not fully understand the language being spoken around you. I approached the parent with kindness and patience, helping them feel more comfortable while ensuring they were connected with the appropriate staff members who could provide language assistance. I took the time to listen to their concerns and helped communicate basic information to staff so the family could receive the support they needed. More importantly, I made sure the parent felt seen and heard. Sometimes people do not need someone to solve every problem; they simply need someone who understands their situation and is willing to help them navigate it. As I spoke with the parent, I noticed their body language change. They seemed less nervous and more confident asking questions about their child's care. Watching their relief reminded me of how powerful communication can be. A simple conversation helped reduce some of the fear and uncertainty they were experiencing. This experience taught me that healthcare is about much more than medicine. It is also about compassion, empathy, and ensuring that every patient and family feels respected, regardless of the language they speak. Language barriers can prevent people from receiving information, asking questions, or advocating for themselves. By helping bridge that gap, even in a small way, I was able to make a positive difference in someone's day. The experience reinforced my desire to pursue a career in nursing. As a future nurse, I want to care for patients from diverse backgrounds and help ensure that language and cultural differences never prevent someone from receiving quality care. I hope to continue serving as an advocate for families who may feel unheard or overwhelmed in healthcare settings. Helping that parent showed me that some of the most important acts of service are the simplest ones: listening, showing empathy, and helping someone feel understood. It is a lesson I will carry with me throughout my life and future career in healthcare.

My future goals, both in college and after graduation, are deeply rooted in my passion for medicine and my commitment to serving my community. Growing up, I have witnessed firsthand the challenges that many families like mine face when it comes to accessing quality healthcare. From navigating my father’s illness to seeing the lack of attention and care given to Black women, especially mothers, these experiences have shaped my desire to pursue a career in the medical field. I want to be more than just a doctor—I want to be someone who listens, advocates, and creates change. In college, I plan to major in a science-based field that will prepare me for medical school while fully immersing myself in opportunities that allow me to grow both academically and personally. I hope to join pre-med organizations, participate in research, and volunteer in hospitals or clinics so I can gain hands-on experience working with patients. I also want to take on leadership roles that will allow me to advocate for underrepresented communities in healthcare and help bring awareness to the disparities that continue to exist. Community service has always been a significant part of my life, and it is something I plan to continue throughout my college journey. At school, I have been involved in service activities that support both my peers and the broader community. Outside of school, I volunteer at food banks, helping provide meals and essential resources to families facing food insecurity. Through my church, I have also participated in service efforts that focus on giving back and supporting those in need. These experiences have taught me the value of compassion, responsibility, and consistency. They have shown me that even small acts of service can make a meaningful difference in someone’s life. My responsibilities at home have also played a major role in shaping who I am. I help care for my younger brothers, including picking up my baby brother from daycare and supporting my family in any way I can. Balancing these responsibilities with school and service has not always been easy, but it has strengthened my resilience and deepened my sense of purpose. It has taught me that caring for others is not just something I want to do—it is who I am. In college, I plan to expand my service by volunteering in underserved communities, particularly in healthcare settings. I want to work with organizations that focus on maternal health and health equity, especially those supporting Black women and babies. I hope to be part of outreach programs and health education initiatives that empower individuals with the knowledge and resources they need to advocate for themselves. After graduation, my goal is to attend medical school and become a physician who is dedicated not only to treating patients but also to addressing the systemic issues within healthcare. I aspire to open my own practice or create a program specifically focused on supporting Black women, particularly during pregnancy and childbirth. Too often, Black women are unheard, overlooked, or dismissed in medical settings, leading to preventable complications and disparities. I want to create a space where they feel safe, respected, and truly cared for. Through my career and continued commitment to service, I hope to make a lasting impact by improving healthcare outcomes and advocating for those who have historically been underserved. My journey into medicine is not just about personal success—it is about creating change, uplifting my community, and ensuring that everyone receives the care they deserve.

“You have to pick your wife or son.” That’s what the doctors expected me to translate to my father. Time paused around me. My hands and body were shaking. The words were sitting at the tip of my tongue, trying to come out, but they couldn't. I looked at my dad with sad eyes. Translating this line would forever change me, and I knew it. I was only 14, transitioning to 9th grade in a few weeks. Ever since I learned to read and write, it’s been my job to translate any document that came in the mail: tax statements, work forms, legal documents, bills, and now, life-changing medical decisions. In that moment, I knew it was my responsibility. Growing up, this pressure helped me become the strong, independent person I am today. My whole world was falling upside down in a matter of hours. I watched them dismiss all my mother's concerns. Even with unbearable pain, they told her it was normal and to rest. They pierced her tired, dehydrated skin with needles. Anxiety kept me up that night. Would I have to step up and start taking care of both my little brothers? At 8-years-old, I made it my responsibility to protect my parents from a country that would never fully accept them. Seeing how they treated my mom made me doubt that I could. As I watched white coats run in and out of her room, the atmosphere felt heavy. Eventually, the doctors told us that we could go see her. Walking into the room, I felt a slight relief seeing her there. But I didn't see a baby. My heart stopped.“It's your fault if something goes wrong.” Following the doctor to the NICU, these thoughts eased. There he was. Xavier tangled in tubes, machines keeping him alive. Both of them made it, but at what cost? They were still struggling so much, physically and mentally. They told us Xavier would stay here until he could eat and breathe on his own. My mom would be able to leave, but Xavier would be alone. What if the doctors ignored his needs the same way they ignored my mom? I felt helpless. Noticing the lack of Black health providers in the NICU and maternity unit pushed me to research how many other families experienced what we did. Black maternal mortality rates were increasing. Reading about Black and brown babies' mistreatment in the NICU because of their skin color frightened me. Leaving Xavier was hard, but it was essential for his recovery. We visited Xavier daily, from the start of the day to the end. I asked all the questions I could think of: Is he eating well? Is he gaining weight? As the primary English speaker, I wanted to make sure Xavier was okay. Slowly, Xavier grew stronger and came home. I felt motivated seeing Xavier and my mom grow stronger. I wanted to learn how I could create an environment where Black mothers and families don't feel unseen and neglected but instead protected and comfortable. The pain and voices were still present. Now there was a new voice, “Everything is going to be okay.” I pursued every medical opportunity- interning at Dana Farber in 9th grade and taking health classes at Harvard Medical- to ensure I’m ready to be part of the change. The voice that once haunted me, “It's your fault if something goes wrong,” wasn't a nightmare anymore–it became my motivation. It pushed me to realize that I can make a difference and protect patients the way I protect my family.

As a first-generation college student, I often felt like I was navigating the world by myself. My parents have always supported my dreams wholeheartedly, but they did not have the opportunity to attend college or learn how the American education system works. When it came to registering for the SAT, completing FAFSA forms, applying for scholarships, or understanding how to choose the right major, I had to figure it out on my own. There was no guidebook at home, just determination, late nights spent researching, and the courage to ask questions even when I felt embarrassed or unsure. At times, that independence felt isolating. I watched classmates receive advice from older siblings or parents who understood college timelines, internships, and financial planning. Meanwhile, I was learning through trial and error. I remember feeling overwhelmed by deadlines and doubting whether I was making the “right” choices. There were moments when I questioned if I truly belonged in advanced classes or competitive academic spaces. However, those challenges forced me to grow. Instead of shrinking back, I leaned in. I sought help from teachers, built relationships with counselors, and found mentors who were willing to guide me. I learned how to write professional emails, advocate for myself, and take initiative in ways I never had before. Financial uncertainty added another layer of responsibility. I understood that pursuing higher education was not just about personal achievement; it was about creating stability and opportunity for my family. Watching my parents work tirelessly instilled in me a deep sense of gratitude and motivation. Their sacrifices became my fuel. I applied for scholarships, stayed committed to my academics, and reminded myself that every exam and application was a step toward changing my family’s future. Education has shaped who I am at my core. It has taught me resilience, discipline, and confidence in my ability to adapt and grow. My curiosity, especially in science and healthcare, has pushed me to ask deeper questions about inequality, access, and compassion in medicine. It has guided my desire to pursue biology or nursing and eventually serve communities that often feel overlooked. Although navigating this journey often felt lonely, it transformed me. Being first-generation means stepping into unfamiliar spaces with courage and building a path where none existed before. As a first-generation student, I am not just earning a degree for myself; I am building a new foundation for my family and for those who will come after me. Education has given me both a voice and a vision for who I hope to become: a compassionate healthcare professional who uses knowledge to uplift others.

I am a first-generation student and the oldest daughter in a family of immigrants, and my journey into STEM has been shaped by both responsibility and purpose. Growing up, I learned the value of hard work and perseverance by watching my parents build a life in a new country. As the oldest daughter, I naturally stepped into a leadership role, helping care for my younger siblings, supporting my parents, and setting an example through my academic dedication. These experiences taught me resilience, discipline, and the importance of using education as a tool for empowerment. My passion for STEM began at a young age with a fascination for medicine. What started as a childhood curiosity evolved into a deeper commitment after witnessing my mother’s experience in the labor unit. I remember feeling helpless as medical staff moved quickly around her, at times dismissing her concerns. That moment opened my eyes to the disparities that exist in healthcare, particularly for Black women. I began researching maternal health inequities and realized that science and medicine are not only about innovation and discovery, but also about justice and advocacy. I understood then that pursuing a career in STEM would allow me to combine my love for science with my desire to create meaningful change. Throughout high school, I have actively sought opportunities to strengthen my foundation in STEM. I interned at Dana-Farber Cancer Institute, where I observed how research, data, and patient-centered care intersect to improve outcomes. I saw firsthand how scientific advancements directly impact families facing serious illnesses. This experience deepened my appreciation for the role of research and evidence-based practice in medicine. I also pursued advanced health coursework to expand my understanding of anatomy, biology, and patient care, preparing myself for a rigorous academic path in nursing and healthcare. With a career in STEM, specifically in nursing and maternal health, I hope to address healthcare disparities and contribute to a more equitable medical system. I plan to work in maternal and neonatal care, where I can provide hands-on support to mothers and newborns during critical moments. Beyond clinical practice, I aspire to contribute to research and community initiatives focused on improving maternal outcomes in underserved populations. By using data, education, and advocacy, I hope to help implement culturally competent care practices and bias training within healthcare institutions. STEM has the power to transform lives not only through technological advancement but also through human connection. I want to be part of a generation of healthcare professionals who use science to serve communities compassionately and equitably. My goal is to combine clinical expertise, research, and advocacy to ensure that every patient feels heard, respected, and valued. Through perseverance and dedication, I hope to use my STEM education to uplift my community and create lasting, positive change.

My inspiration for pursuing a career in nursing comes from both personal experiences and a deep desire to advocate for underserved communities. Growing up as the oldest daughter in a first-generation immigrant family, I learned early on the importance of responsibility, compassion, and resilience. My parents worked tirelessly to provide for our family, and I often stepped in to help care for my younger siblings and navigate challenges at home. These experiences taught me empathy, patience, and a strong sense of service, qualities I know are essential in nursing. My passion for healthcare grew even stronger when I witnessed my mother’s labor. I remember feeling helpless as doctors and nurses moved quickly around her, dismissing her concerns and overlooking her pain. This experience opened my eyes to the disparities Black women face in healthcare, particularly during labor and delivery. I realized that a nurse’s role is not only to provide clinical care but also to advocate for patients, listen to their needs, and ensure their voices are heard. Since then, I have sought opportunities to prepare for a healthcare career. I interned at Dana-Farber Cancer Institute, where I learned that effective care combines technical skills with empathy and trust. I also pursued health courses at Harvard Medical School to deepen my understanding of anatomy and patient care. Nursing combines my love for medicine with my passion for building meaningful connections with patients. I aspire to provide care that uplifts and empowers families, especially those who have experienced trauma or systemic neglect. Ultimately, I want to be a nurse who not only heals but also advocates, educates, and brings comfort to every patient I serve. To me, the phrase “human touch” goes far beyond physical contact; it represents empathy, understanding, and genuine connection. In healthcare, human touch is the act of acknowledging a patient’s humanity, listening, validating their feelings, and offering reassurance while also providing care. It is a reminder that patients are not just medical cases but individuals with fears, hopes, and unique experiences. Human touch can be a powerful tool to comfort patients, reduce anxiety, and foster trust between caregivers and those they serve. I first recognized the importance of human touch when observing my mother during labor. While the medical staff focused on procedures and efficiency, I noticed how a simple gesture of reassurance, a calm explanation, or even holding her hand could have made her feel seen and supported. Moments like these highlighted that patient care is not solely about clinical expertise but also about presence, compassion, and connection. The emotional comfort that comes from human touch can significantly affect recovery, satisfaction, and overall well-being. Human touch also fosters trust, particularly in communities that have historically been underserved or mistreated in healthcare. Black mothers, for example, are often dismissed or overlooked during critical moments like labor and delivery. When nurses take the time to listen, explain procedures, and validate experiences, patients feel safer and more empowered to advocate for themselves. Human touch becomes both a source of healing and a form of advocacy, bridging the gap between clinical care and emotional support. Furthermore, human touch encourages holistic care. When a nurse engages with a patient’s emotions, fears, and cultural background, they address not only the physical but also the psychological and social aspects of health. This connection can improve adherence to treatment, reduce stress, and foster a positive healthcare experience, ultimately leading to better outcomes. In short, human touch is the heart of nursing. It is empathy in action, a bridge between medical expertise and patient-centered care. By embracing human touch, nurses can provide care that is both competent and compassionate, ensuring patients feel seen, heard, and valued during some of the most vulnerable moments of their lives.

Ever since I was young, my passion was always medicine. I was obsessed with Doc McStuffins. I watched every episode, made sure to remember the theme songs and I even made my parents buy me dolls so I could use my pretend toy stethoscope and “fix” them. To me, Doc Mcstuffins wasn't just a show, it was a reflection of the person I wanted to become in the future. When I watched my mother struggle during her labor. I remember feeling helpless as doctors and nurses moved quickly around her and dismissed her needs.Seeing the way my mom was treated pushed me to research the mistreatment of Black women and children in hospitals. Very often, symptoms are overlooked, voices silenced, and pain pushed to the side. Black women especially encounter mistreatment during labor and delivery. The health care system has failed to provide a safe and trustworthy environment for Black women and their babies. After learning and researching, I realized I wanted to learn how I can create an environment where Black mothers and families don't feel unseen and neglected, but instead protected and comfortable. I pursued every medical opportunity that could help me get closer to the medical field. In 9th grade, I interned at Dana Farber Cancer Institute, where I learned that every patient requires a different kind of care, and being a doctor doesn't just mean taking notes but also building a trustworthy relationship. I took health classes at Harvard Medical in 10th grade to deepen my understanding of anatomy and patient care. I hope to reduce the disparities Black mothers and babies face. Beyond working in the NICU and martelan unit, I want to start organizations that can support women who have been through a traumatic time in healthcare settings. I want to foster a community to allow women to feel safe to share their stories and advocate for substantial change through their experiences. Educating people on the deficit of care through raising awareness will also be one of the ways I would approach this change. The more people educated on this matter will help ensure different programs, such as bias training or raising cultural awareness in medical professionals. Representation matters, and I want to be part of that change. When patients see someone who understands their experiences, taking the time to understand and listen to them would ease their anxiety and build trust instead. I want to provide a space where Black women feel heard, comfortable, and uplifted.

Ever since I was young, I have been obsessed with Doc McStuffins. I watched every episode, made sure to remember the theme songs, and I even made my parents buy me dolls so I could use my pretend toy stethoscope and “fix” them. To me, Doc McStuffin's wasn't just a show; it was a reflection of the person I wanted to become in the future. Seeing a young black girl as a doctor motivated me and made me believe that I could do the same. I knew I wanted to care and help people the same way she did, but I didn't understand what that meant yet and what my true drive was. All that changed when I watched my mother struggle during her labor. I remember feeling helpless as doctors and nurses moved quickly around her and dismissed her needs. I couldn't help but notice no one else in that room looked like us. There wasn't a black doctor or nurse standing by her side. In a diverse city like Boston, the absence spoke volumes. How different would it have been if there had been someone in that room who understood our backgrounds and took the time to listen? Representation builds trust, and it heals before medicine begins. Seeing the way my mom was treated in the hospital pushed me to research the mistreatment of Black women and Black children in hospitals. Very often, symptoms are overlooked, voices silenced, and pain pushed to the side. Neglect often begins during one’s own birth and extends into normal checkups. Black women especially encounter mistreatment during labor and delivery. The health care system has failed to provide a safe and trustworthy environment for Black women and their babies. The maternal death rate for white women dropped from 19 deaths per 100,000 live births in 2022 to 14.5 per 100,000 in 2023. The rate for Black women went from 49.5 to a little above 50. After learning and researching, I realized I wanted to learn how I can create an environment where Black mothers and families don't feel unseen and neglected, but instead protected and comfortable. Beyond the hospital, I hope to start organizations that support women who have experienced trauma in healthcare settings. I want to foster a community to allow black women to feel safe to share their stories and educate them about their medical rights so they can confidently advocate for themselves. The program would combat this deficit by partnering with hospitals to complete bias training and using our voices to raise cultural awareness surrounding the medical field. Getting into nursing isn't just a career path for me; but instead about making sure that kids who look like me aren't confused about why there's nobody who looks like them in their dream career.