My parents, Ecuadorian immigrants, fought to get one foot in the door of opportunity so their three daughters could walk through it a little easier someday. My mother was ridiculed for speaking very little English and my father never got the opportunity to attend college after fleeing from domestic abuse when he was 16 years old. My mother persevered, graduating high school with a scholarship to community college, while my father became a successful and trusted furniture salesman. They never thought one of their daughters would have the chance to attend college, much less become a doctor. I never take their sacrifices for granted and they instilled in me the importance of conviction, gratitude, and pulling others up the ladder of success with me. My heritage and upbringing gifted me the compassion I hope to contribute to an inclusive veterinary profession. As early as high school, I experienced prejudiced microaggressions that made me question my place in higher education and the veterinary field. Many comments were stated similarly, “Congratulations on your acceptance! Although, I’m sure it helped that you’re a Hispanic woman.” Despite my hard-earned GPA, three part-time jobs, and countless volunteer hours, these harmful messages still trickled into my psyche. They amplified my imposter syndrome and I walked into rooms feeling like a filled quota that was undeserving of my spot and accomplishments. This feeling of inadequacy- of being “handed” accolades because of my minority status- pushes me to work harder to prove myself. While others relished in their achievements, I continually felt that I had to earn my place long after I was accepted, to prove that I was worth the investment. These sentiments are echoed in minority communities, unfortunately throughout higher education and even more so in the veterinary profession. Despite these comments, I am unwavering in my pursuit of veterinary education. I independently put myself through college and vet school by working 3 jobs to financially support myself. I am currently in my fourth year of veterinary school at NC State University. Now that I’ve walked through the door of opportunity, I want to hold it open for other minority students. I am currently the president of the Women’s Veterinary Leadership Development Initiative at NCSU CVM, a club dedicated to developing leaders of all gender identities and promoting gender equality, diversity and inclusion within veterinary medicine. I am also a two-year student representative for Zoetis and thankfully have an amazing mentor who supports me in funding wellness events. One of the most rewarding events was instructor-led yoga on the front lawn of our CVM at sunrise, followed by complimentary bagels and coffee. I aspire to be a mentor like she is for upcoming young professionals. Another goal of mine is to create a recurring scholarship for minority students in veterinary medicine to help fund their education and validate their successes. Once I’m comfortable in my medical practice, I’d also love to have veterinary students shadow me and gain experience in a safe teaching environment. To me, inclusivity is actively nurturing and welcoming a wide range of experiences by creating programs to uplift underrepresented communities, and I strive to be someone who is both a part of that and ensures that for future veterinary students to come.

My parents, Ecuadorian immigrants, fought to get one foot in the door of opportunity so their three daughters could walk through it a little easier someday. My mother was ridiculed for speaking very little English and my father never got the opportunity to attend college after fleeing from domestic abuse when he was 16 years old. My mother persevered, graduating high school with a scholarship to community college, while my father became a successful and trusted furniture salesman. They never thought one of their daughters would have the chance to attend college, much less become a doctor. I never take their sacrifices for granted and they instilled in me the importance of conviction, gratitude, and pulling others up the ladder of success with me. My heritage and upbringing gifted me the compassion I hope to contribute to an inclusive veterinary profession. As early as high school, I experienced prejudiced microaggressions that made me question my place in higher education and the veterinary field. Many comments were stated similarly, “Congratulations on your acceptance! Although, I’m sure it helped that you’re a Hispanic woman.” Despite my hard-earned GPA, three part-time jobs, and countless volunteer hours, these harmful messages still trickled into my psyche. They amplified my imposter syndrome and I walked into rooms feeling like a filled quota that was undeserving of my spot and accomplishments. This feeling of inadequacy- of being “handed” accolades because of my minority status- pushes me to work harder to prove myself. While others relished in their achievements, I continually felt that I had to earn my place long after I was accepted, to prove that I was worth the investment. These sentiments are echoed in minority communities, unfortunately throughout higher education and even more so in the veterinary profession. Despite these comments, I am unwavering in my pursuit of veterinary education. I independently put myself through college and vet school by working 3 jobs to financially support myself. I am currently in my fourth year of veterinary school at NC State University. Now that I’ve walked through the door of opportunity, I want to hold it open for other minority students. I am currently the president of the Women’s Veterinary Leadership Development Initiative at NCSU CVM, a club dedicated to developing leaders of all gender identities and promoting gender equality, diversity and inclusion within veterinary medicine. I am also a two-year student representative for Zoetis and thankfully have an amazing mentor who supports me in funding wellness events. One of the most rewarding events was instructor-led yoga on the front lawn of our CVM at sunrise, followed by complimentary bagels and coffee. I aspire to be a mentor like she is for upcoming young professionals. Another goal of mine is to create a recurring scholarship for minority students in veterinary medicine to help fund their education and validate their successes. Once I’m comfortable in my medical practice, I’d also love to have veterinary students shadow me and gain experience in a safe teaching environment. To me, inclusivity is actively nurturing and welcoming a wide range of experiences by creating programs to uplift underrepresented communities, and I strive to be someone who is both a part of that and ensures that for future veterinary students to come.

My parents, Ecuadorian immigrants, fought to get one foot in the door of opportunity so their three daughters could walk through it a little easier someday. My mother was ridiculed for speaking very little English and my father never got the opportunity to attend college after fleeing from domestic abuse when he was 16 years old. My mother persevered, graduating high school with a scholarship to community college, while my father became a successful and trusted furniture salesman. They never thought one of their daughters would have the chance to attend graduate school, much less become a doctor. I never take their sacrifices for granted and they instilled in me the importance of conviction, gratitude, and pulling others up the ladder of success with me. My heritage and upbringing gifted me the compassion I hope to contribute to the world. I understand the importance of travel in forming a global and compassionate perspective, and my challenge came in the form of trauma and recovery. Supported by the UF Lombardi scholarship during my undergraduate degree, I have had the opportunity to travel internationally each summer and explore incredible and diverse cultural niches, including those in Mexico, Peru, South Africa, Belize, and the Galapagos. Traveling has tested my adaptability many times, most notably during my history and politics-focused trip to South Africa. Despite Apartheid’s abolishment in 1994, there is still deep social stratification and segregated communities remain informal settlements known as townships. While volunteering at a nonprofit preschool dedicated to uplifting Mamelodi (a former township), my group was ambushed by 6 gunmen who ordered us to the ground while they stole everything. As our assailants fled, we ushered the preschoolers to safety and I began helping with first aid on two women who had been shot and assaulted. Remaining levelheaded and collected through the immense chaos and terror of those moments may have saved my life and the lives of those around me, and I am grateful to have walked away unharmed. Recovering from the trauma and maintaining a compassionate perspective was crucial to me as a minority myself and as someone who wants to treat everyone by assuming good intent. I practiced self-awareness and my emotional vulnerability by going to therapy for post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and encouraging group reflection on the roots of violence (poverty, socioeconomic inequities, and racial inequalities). My appreciation for travel remains and we raised funds for increased security measures and trauma counseling at the preschool for the students, workers, and volunteers. We were privileged to leave the vicious cycle of poverty and pain, but seeing those social implications has revolutionized my perspective on minority inclusion and community. I’m grateful to have walked away with the lesson that to truly foster community, empathy must supersede ignorance.

My parents, Ecuadorian immigrants, fought to get one foot in the door of opportunity so that all three of their daughters could walk through it easier someday and they taught me how to be the friend people trust with personal/embarrassing questions, trustworthy advice, and loyal advocation.

My parents, Ecuadorian immigrants, fought to get one foot in the door of opportunity so that all three of their daughters could walk through it easier someday. This perspective showed me the importance of pulling others up the ladder of success with me. My heritage and upbringing gifted me the compassion I will contribute to an inclusive, synergistic veterinary profession and the expansion of accessibility for patient care. Inclusivity means actively engaging and creating programs to uplift underrepresented communities in the veterinary community, and I strive to be someone who is both a part of and ensures that for future veterinarians. Whether through witnessing botulism in Muscovy ducks or capture myopathy in herons, my internship at the South Florida Wildlife Center first sparked my interest in wildlife medicine. I am fortunate to have cemented this passion at the UF Small Animal Hospital's distinguished Zoological Medicine department. While working as the sole weekend veterinary technician, I had the joy of meeting and working with Michelle. Although she sounds like a person, Michelle was one of the few female breeding Galapagos tortoises in North America, who came into the clinic with chronic nasal discharge and dyspnea from the congestion. Michelle, among other exotics, inspired me to devote part of my career to wildlife veterinary medicine. One morning on my rounds, I noticed Michelle had become unresponsive and wasn’t breathing. I rushed to the veterinarians and we immediately intubated and began the 4-hour marathon of attempting to resuscitate her. Despite our best efforts, Michelle’s body became too weak to support her. Although it felt devastating, this loss reaffirmed my desire to devote the rest of my life to this field. I am currently a 3rd-year veterinary student pursuing training in both small and exotic medicine at the North Carolina State University College of Veterinary Medicine. I externed for 8 weeks with small-animal-focused Community Veterinary Partners and shadowed at NCSU Orthopaedic Surgery. Additionally, I work with the NCSU Behavior service socializing and training blood donor cats. Emphasizing my exotics training, I am the first-author of a Wobbly Hedgehog Syndrome research study and completed a 3-month internship at South Florida Wildlife Center. As Feline Club president, I am passionate about integrating student training and trap-neuter-return community efforts, as well as supplementing our curriculum with feline-specific & fear-free medicine. My love for curating meaningful student relationships with professional networks perfectly suits my role as a Zoetis Student Representative (‘21-’24). Assisting as a student liaison for our Zoo Health & Disease course allows me to facilitate communication between professors and classmates and assist with unforeseen hurdles. I am a technician at Leesville Animal Hospital, where I reinvigorate my purpose: connect with owners, reassure them, and treat patients with respect and compassion. To me, wildlife medicine is a pillar of hope and humility. Wildlife veterinarians provide a second chance of survival for animals who otherwise would not have one. This field shows animals that live outside of our homes the same love we show those that live inside them. In Michelle’s case, it was an honor to give her the greatest possible chance at life, both for her and the rest of her endangered species. Working in wildlife and small animal medicine has brought me a sense of purpose, and I hope to treat the future Michelles of all species with the poise, knowledge, and dedication of the veterinarians I saw that day.