Addiction doesn't come crashing into your life. It creeps in quietly, promising relief, control, and escape. For me, it began as a way to numb things I didn't have the tools to face. Growing up in an environment filled with instability and chaos, survival often felt more important than self-understanding. Alcohol became my way of silencing both the noise around me and the one in my head. What I didn't realize was that in trying to escape, I was slowly disappearing completely. The best way to describe what it was like is living in fragments. I couldn't hold onto consistency in school, work, or relationships. I missed classes, lost jobs, and watched friends drift away as my world became smaller and darker. The substances I believed were helping me cope were actually pulling the ground out from under me. Every decision was filtered through one question. How to get through the next few hours? The shame and exhaustion were unbearable, but I didn't know how to stop. The change came slowly, almost quietly, like the addiction itself. I remember one morning waking up on the floor of a friend’s dorm, my phone dead, my mind foggy, and realizing that I couldn't remember what had happened the night before. Something inside of me broke. I was tired of surviving. I wanted to live. I reached out to a counselor I had met through a community outreach program, and for the first time, I told the truth about what was happening. That small act of honesty became the beginning of my recovery. Getting sober was not a single decision but a series of them. Every day, every hour, choosing to face life instead of fleeing from it. I joined support groups, reconnected with my family, and learned how to incorporate structure and purpose into my days. I started therapy, began journaling, and surrounded myself with people who valued growth over perfection. Slowly, the person I thought I had lost began to come back. Now, as a college student pursuing a degree in biology at Xavier University of Louisiana, I see my education as more than just a personal achievement. It is a tool for rebuilding my life and helping others rebuild theirs. I plan to become an obstetrician who focuses on women’s health education and addiction recovery during pregnancy. Too often, women who struggle with substance use are judged instead of helped. I want to change that narrative by creating programs that support mothers in recovery and that treat them with compassion, dignity, and respect. My experience with addiction taught me that healing is not a straight line. It is a process of learning to forgive yourself, to show up even when it is hard, and to choose growth over guilt. Education gave me something addiction took away. The ability to dream again. Every class I attend, every exam I pass, is a quiet reminder of how far I have come. I am proud to be sober. I am proud of the person I am becoming. And I am determined to use what I have learned, the pain, the lessons, and the resilience, to help others find their way out of the dark. The Trudgers Fund represents exactly what I strive to live by. Persistence, grace, and the courage to keep moving forward, one step at a time.

The first time I took someone’s blood pressure, my hands trembled. It was not from fear of getting it wrong. It was from realizing that I was finally doing something that mattered. The patient was an elderly woman at the Community Health Clinic in Houston, and as I explained what each number meant, she smiled and said, “No one’s ever told me that before.” That moment changed me. I understood that giving back is not just about what you do. It is about what people learn, feel, and carry with them afterward. My passion for healthcare began from witnessing what happens when communities are left without access, knowledge, or care. Growing up, my family often went without stable housing or reliable health resources. I saw my mother work multiple jobs and still struggle to understand medical language during clinic visits. I promised myself that one day I would use education and compassion to bridge that gap. Now, as a biology major at Xavier University of Louisiana, I volunteer with community health programs that serve low-income neighborhoods. My work includes helping with patient intake, recording vital signs, and explaining medical instructions in ways that patients can truly understand. I also participate in outreach events that provide free health screenings and wellness education. But the heart of my service goes beyond those tasks. It lives in creating human connection where people often feel unseen or unheard. I believe healthcare is most powerful when it is personal. It is not a checklist but a mindset that changes how we treat others. That belief is why I plan to pursue a career in obstetrics and focus on maternal health education. Too many women, especially women of color, face preventable complications because they are not informed about their own bodies or medical options. I want to change that through community-based programs that teach women to advocate for themselves, access care, and understand their health with confidence. Service, to me, is about empowerment. It means giving people the tools to rewrite their own stories. That is why I plan to create a nonprofit initiative called “Language of Healing.” It would simplify medical information into plain, accessible language through workshops and partnerships with local clinics. My goal is to make medical knowledge easy to understand and free from fear, because no one should lose their life due to confusion or silence. The life of Susan Rita Murray, RN BSN CNN, deeply inspires me. She embodied compassion and selflessness in its truest form. For forty-two years, she cared for patients as an acute dialysis nurse, always placing their comfort and dignity above her own. Her kindness and humor brought light into rooms often filled with fear. She reminds me that nursing and medicine are not only about curing illness but about restoring humanity. Her legacy shows that care delivered with empathy can heal in ways science alone cannot. As I look toward the future, I know that my education is only the beginning of a lifelong commitment to serve others. Through medicine, I plan to reach beyond hospital walls and into the heart of communities that have been overlooked. I want to empower people to take charge of their health, believe in their worth, and know that someone cares enough to listen and to help. Susan Rita Murray’s dedication lives on through every student who continues her mission. I hope to honor her by carrying that same compassion into my career, where knowledge meets kindness and service becomes the truest form of healing.

When I first heard a baby’s heartbeat through a fetal monitor, something shifted inside me. The steady rhythm felt like hope itself. That was the day I knew I wanted to specialize in Obstetrics and Gynecology. My name is Jasmine Smith, and I am a biology major at Xavier University of Louisiana, an HBCU that has shaped my understanding of both medicine and service. My journey has not been easy, but it has taught me that ambition is not just about personal success. It is about using what you have learned to make a lasting difference in the lives of others. Growing up in Houston, instability was a constant presence, keeping my family in survival mode more often than not. There were nights when I studied under the dim light of a motel lamp, trying to ignore the noise of uncertainty around me. Those moments taught me that education is not just a privilege, it is a lifeline. Like Aaryn Railyn King, I came to believe that education has the power to change everything. She understood that learning could open doors that the world had tried to keep closed, and I want to carry that belief forward through my career in medicine. My experiences volunteering at the Community Health Clinic in Houston gave me a front-row seat to the power of care. I helped with patient intake, recorded vital signs, and watched doctors provide free services to families who could not afford them. Many of these patients were women who came in worried, tired, and unheard. Seeing them leave with relief and understanding made me realize that medicine is not only about curing illness. It is also about restoring dignity and hope. That is why I am so passionate about women’s health. My goal is to become an OB-GYN who advocates for women who are often ignored by the system. I want to create clinics that focus on education, access, and communication, where patients can learn about their health in ways that feel safe and empowering. I believe that true healthcare goes beyond diagnosis. It means listening, teaching, and standing up for those who feel invisible. Aaryn Railyn King’s belief in the importance of education inspires me to keep moving forward, even when the road feels long. Her story reminds me that passion can outlive a person. The values she embodied continue to ripple through the lives of those who share her dream of using knowledge to uplift others. I want to live out that dream by combining science with empathy, so that my education becomes more than a degree. It becomes a tool for transformation. My drive to succeed in medicine is not rooted in prestige. It comes from knowing what it feels like to be without understanding, without access, and without control. I have turned those experiences into motivation, using every obstacle as fuel for the future I am building. I want to prove that where you start does not determine where you end up, and that education, when used with purpose, can heal more than just bodies. It can heal entire communities. Like Aaryn, I believe education is the greatest gift we can pursue. Through medicine, I will continue her legacy by helping others find strength in knowledge, comfort in care, and hope in healing. That heartbeat I heard years ago still echoes in my mind, reminding me why I began this journey. It reminds me that education gives life meaning, and I intend to use mine to keep that heartbeat going in others.

The first time I took someone’s blood pressure, my hands trembled. It was not from fear of doing it wrong, but from realizing that I was finally doing something that mattered. The patient was an elderly woman at the Community Health Clinic in Houston, and as I explained what each number meant, she smiled and said, “No one’s ever told me that before.” That moment changed me. I understood that giving back is not just about what you do. It is about what people learn, feel, and carry with them afterward. My passion for service began from witnessing what happens when communities are left without access to knowledge or care. Growing up, my family often went without stable housing or reliable health resources. I saw my mother work multiple jobs and still struggle to understand medical language during clinic visits. I promised myself that one day I would use education and compassion to bridge that gap. Now, as a biology major at Xavier University of Louisiana, I volunteer with community health programs that serve low-income neighborhoods. My work includes helping with patient intake, recording vital signs, and explaining medical instructions in ways that patients can truly understand. I also participate in outreach events that provide free health screenings, nutrition education, and wellness resources. But the heart of my service lives in creating human connection where people often feel unseen or unheard. I believe service is most powerful when it’s personal. It’s a mindset that changes how we see others. That belief is why I plan to pursue a career in obstetrics and focus on maternal health education. Too many women, especially women of color, face preventable complications because they are not informed about their own bodies or medical options. I want to change that through community-based programs that teach women to advocate for themselves, access resources, and understand their health with confidence. Service, to me, is about empowerment. It’s about giving people the tools to rewrite their own stories. I plan to create a nonprofit initiative called “Language of Healing.” It would simplify medical information into plain, accessible language through workshops, social media content, and partnerships with local clinics. My goal is to make medical information as easy to understand as it is to access, because no one should lose their life due to confusion or fear of asking questions. The life of Priscilla Shireen Luke deeply resonates with me because she lived with that same spirit of selflessness and hope. She understood that the best way to change the world was not through grand gestures but through daily acts of kindness that ripple across generations. Her legacy reminds me that true service is not about being seen. It is about seeing others. Like her, I want to be a light in spaces where people have grown used to darkness. I know that my education is only the beginning of a lifelong commitment to service. Through medicine, I plan to reach beyond hospital walls and into the hearts of communities that have been overlooked. I want to empower people to take charge of their health, believe in their worth, and know that someone cares enough to explain, to listen, and to serve. Priscilla Shireen Luke used her life to lift others, and that is the same mission I carry forward. Whether through healthcare or education, I plan to dedicate my life to helping others stand taller in a world that too often pushes them down. Her legacy lives on through every act of service that reminds someone they matter, and I intend to keep that legacy alive every day.

When I was twelve, I learned that language could save a life or take one. My mother sat in an exam room, silent as the nurse spoke fast and emotionless. She didn’t understand the words “precancerous cells.” She thought it meant “nothing serious.” Months later, when the pain became unbearable, we learned what those words had really meant. It had been serious all along. What she lacked wasn’t care, but comprehension. That moment planted a seed in me that has never stopped growing. Today, I’m a biology major at Xavier University of Louisiana, and my mission is to fight one of the most invisible epidemics in Black communities: medical illiteracy. Not the inability to read, but the inability to understand. It’s the quiet gap between what doctors say and what patients hear, the space where confusion, mistrust, and preventable illnesses become fatal. If I could improve my community, I would bridge that gap. I plan to build an initiative called “Language of Healing”, a health education program that translates complex medical information into plain, accessible language for low-income families. It'd partner with community health clinics, churches, and schools to teach people how to interpret prescriptions, lab results, and consent forms. The goal isn’t just to inform but to help people navigate a system that was never designed for them to understand. I chose this focus because I’ve seen the ripple effects of misunderstanding. I’ve watched relatives share prescriptions, skip checkups, or delay care simply because they were too intimidated to ask questions. I’ve also seen the strength in them, the same kind of quiet endurance that Henry Walker Sr. embodied when he left the fields of Batchelor, Louisiana, to serve in World War I. Like Henry, my community has learned to survive through resilience, but survival shouldn’t always have to mean struggle. His story reminds me that courage is about fighting the silent wars, too. He faced bullets and prejudice to serve something greater than himself. I want to serve in the same spirit, not with weapons, but with my education, with the courage to dismantle confusion and build trust in medicine where skepticism has long-lived. To me, improving my community isn’t about parachuting in with solutions. It’s listening before leading. It’s taking what I learn in lectures and labs and translating it into something my neighbors can use to protect their families. Whether through pamphlets in plain language, health literacy workshops, or seminars on prenatal care, I want to make sure medical knowledge travels beyond hospitals and into homes. Education, after all, is its own form of service. Similar to the kind of service Henry Walker gave when he stepped onto the SS Maui in 1918, unaware of what awaited him but steadfast in his duty to something larger. His generation built with their hands, and my generation must build with our minds. His courage on foreign soil made it possible for me to pursue a degree at an HBCU built on that same spirit of excellence and resistance. I carry his legacy when I step into every biology lab or health clinic. I carry it when I help patients fill out intake forms, and when I translate doctors’ notes for women who remind me of my mother. And one day, as a physician, I’ll carry it into every exam room, turning confusion into clarity, fear into understanding, and language into life. Because, like Henry Walker, I want to serve something greater than myself. And for me, that something is health equity, the freedom to understand what’s happening inside your own body, and the power to change it.

I still remember the sound of keys jingling in the dark as my mother fumbled for the right one to unlock our motel room. We never stayed anywhere for long. Clothes stuffed into trash bags, dollar store frozen dinners, and the quiet hope that tomorrow would somehow look different. That kind of instability shapes you. It teaches you that survival is not just about endurance, but about finding direction amidst the chaos. I grew up in a home where love and pain were tangled together. My parents’ relationship was consisted mainly of arguments that often turned explosive, and my brothers and I learned early to read the room like the weather, predicting storms before they hit. Eventually, my mother made the difficult choice to leave. Overnight, she became a single parent, trying to rebuild our lives from scratch. Her courage gave me my first lesson in resilience and that starting over is an act of strength, not defeat. Homelessness didn’t just affect where we slept, it also reshaped every part of my childhood. Without an address, enrolling in school was difficult, keeping up with homework was harder, and focusing in class felt impossible when I didn’t know where we’d be that night. I felt invisible and caught between wanting normalcy and accepting instability as my normal. Beneath the fear and uncertainty, what I truly needed was stability and the chance to dream without interruption. I took responsibility early by finding a refuge in learning. School became the one consistent thing I could control when everything else was unpredictable. I volunteered for tutoring programs, spent after-school in libraries, and found peace in my mom’s old nursing textbooks, where every question had a method and every problem a possible solution. Over time, I realized that education wasn’t just my escape, but it was also a foundation for rebuilding what had been broken. It gave me something no eviction could take away. It gave me a purpose. Now, as a biology major at Xavier University of Louisiana, I am working toward a career in obstetrics/gynecology. My goal is to ensure that women, especially those from unstable backgrounds, receive the care and support they deserve. I want to stand in the gap for mothers like mine, who carried the weight of the world alone. Through my studies and future practice, I hope to advocate for maternal health access, teach preventive care, and remind women that they are not alone in their struggles. The story of Sue Wong resonates deeply with me. Like my mother, she carried the full weight of raising children on her own and doing everything possible to give them a better life. Her strength, love, and perseverance mirror the same values that shaped me. This scholarship honors her legacy by uplifting students who understand what it means to persist despite loss and instability. What I’ve learned through my journey is that hardship doesn't define you. How you respond to it does. Living through homelessness and dysfunction taught me self-discipline, empathy, and adaptability. It also gave me a profound appreciation for mentorship and community support, which are two things that carried both Sue Wong’s family and mine through difficult times. Education is my way of turning pain into progress, ensuring that the lessons I’ve learned ripple outward into the lives of others. I used to see my childhood as a series of obstacles. Now, I see it as preparation for the work I’m called to do. I hope to create a legacy of my own that transforms instability into empowerment, one woman at a time.

As a mentor for at-risk students in New Orleans, I have witnessed firsthand how a lack of information constructs how they perceive themselves. Some question their own abilities, while others stagnate due to a lack of explanation of their opportunities. I’ve learned that education can change everything. It helps people feel more confident and in control of their future. I believe breast health education can do the same for women. It turns fear into understanding and gives women what they need to take charge of their health and their lives. My passion for women’s health is rooted in both being raised by a single mom and my experience as a medical assistant. I have a mom who gave everything to keep me and my brothers safe, even during times when we didn’t have a stable home. I can still picture her counting change on a motel dresser, stretching what little she had to cover one more night. Her sacrifices taught me resilience and showed me how much difference knowledge and resources make in a woman’s life. Because of her, I want to focus my career on women’s health, especially breast health, so that women in underserved communities have access to the education and care they deserve. At Xavier University of Louisiana, I am studying biology to pursue my career aspirations as an OB/GYN. My dream is to open a free women’s clinic in an underserved community, and make breast health education a cornerstone. Too many women, especially women of color and those from low-income backgrounds, are not given the tools to understand or act on breast health concerns until it is too late. By teaching preventive care, normalizing conversations about breast health, and ensuring screenings are accessible, I hope to change that reality. I have seen firsthand how important education and representation are. At Xavier, I started a project with our NAACP chapter to bring banned books into schools. Many of these books center the voices of women and people of color, essentially targeting books about the LGBTQ+ community, race, and racism. When students read them, they begin to connect with the stories and recognize their own value. Breast health education is similar. When women are given the knowledge to understand their bodies, they recognize their worth and begin to take ownership of their health. Faith and service have also taught me how reliability fosters trust. Sundays find me volunteering in children’s ministries at church, and holiday seasons have found me hosting food drives for families in crisis. These experiences remind me that real impact often comes from simple, steady acts of care. Annie Pringle embodied this in her work for the breast health community as a lactation consultant, breast cancer support leader, and teacher. She created safe spaces for women who needed both information and compassion. I want to follow that example in my own career, making breast health education a daily practice in the way I serve. Being a bisexual woman has also shaped my understanding of why this matters. In my own life, I have seen how breast health can feel like a taboo subject. A transgender friend of mine avoids conversations about it altogether and skips checkups because they fear judgment in medical settings. Witnessing this has deepened my commitment to making healthcare inclusive. Breast health education must reach everyone, no matter their background or identity. I want to be a physician who creates spaces where women and LGBTQ+ individuals feel safe to ask questions and confident enough to prioritize their health. My journey to becoming a physician has been full of obstacles. Juggling school with financial hardships, family obligations, and rigorous course loads has been challenging. Yet each challenge has only fed my determination to keep going. Each step forward is not only for me but about those women that I will have the privilege to help in the future. Why is promoting breast health education important to me? It saves lives, it restores dignity, and it shatters the silence that so many women bear. Thank you for considering me for the Annie Pringle Memorial Scholarship. With this support, I will continue to prepare for a career where I can carry Annie’s legacy forward by creating spaces where women are educated, supported, and empowered to take control of their health.

The first time I realized I wanted to pursue medicine wasn’t in a classroom or a lab. It was in a crowded Houston clinic where I was volunteering during the summer. A frantic young woman came in, struggling to understand the paperwork in front of her. I sat with her and explained each step before checking her vital signs. By the end of the visit, she smiled with relief. That moment stuck with me. It reminded me that science and medicine are not just about facts and formulas. They are about people, and the power we have to ease someone’s burden. My path to STEM started much earlier, though, shaped by my own family. I was raised by a single mother who worked tirelessly to provide for our family. There were nights we slept in motels, on couches, or even in her car. Despite everything, she never stopped putting us first. Her sacrifices taught me how much difference one person’s care can make. I want to bring that same spirit into medicine, especially for women and families who face barriers like my own family once faced, with stability and resources. At Xavier University of Louisiana, I am studying biology with the goal of becoming an obstetrician. My dream is to open a free clinic for women in underserved communities, where compassion, dignity, and access to care are not negotiable. Too many women, especially women of color and those from low-income families, are denied proper care. I want to change that by combining scientific knowledge with empathy, to create spaces where every patient feels respected. Outside of the classroom, I have committed myself to service and mentorship. In New Orleans, I work with public school students through an after-school program. Many of them have behavioral challenges rooted in difficult home lives. I see pieces of my younger self in them, and I try to be the steady voice that reminds them they're capable beyond what their circumstances suggest. Whether it’s tutoring, conflict resolution, or simply listening, I’ve learned that investing in them matters. I’ve also found ways to advocate for change on a larger scale. Through my campus NAACP chapter, I started a project to bring banned books into middle and high school classrooms. Many of these books are by Black authors, women, and other marginalized voices, and I believe students deserve to see themselves in literature. Watching them connect with those stories showed me how important representation is, both in education and in STEM. Service is also a constant in my faith. Every Sunday, I volunteer at my church’s children’s ministry. I help guide kids, answer their questions, and give them a space where they feel safe and encouraged. Around the holidays, I’ve organized food drives so families are able to share meals together. These may be small acts, but they remind me that impact depends on consistency. As a woman in STEM, I know I am stepping into a field where representation is still growing. My goal isn't only to serve my future patients but also to inspire other young women to see themselves in science and medicine. By mentoring, advocating, and leading with compassion, I hope to open doors for those who come after me. I chose STEM because curiosity drew me in, resilience carried me forward, and compassion gave me purpose. My dream is to use medicine to give women the care they deserve, to honor the sacrifices of those who raised me, and to show the next generation that they, too, belong in STEM. Thank you for considering my application for the Women in STEM Scholarship.

Some nights my brothers and I slept in motels, other nights in the backseat of my mom’s car. Through it all, she taught me that selflessness means showing up for others, no matter what. She raised us on her own, and even though we didn’t have much, she always put us first. Watching her taught me that selflessness is not about having everything to give. It is about giving everything you can. From what I have learned about Michael Rudometkin, he lived his life the same way, always showing up for people. At Xavier University of Louisiana, I mentor students in New Orleans public schools through an after-school program. The first time I walked into a classroom full of middle schoolers in New Orleans, I didn’t expect them to see themselves in me. But the truth is, I saw my younger self in them. Many of them struggle with behavior and academics, but I know that behind those struggles are young people carrying heavy burdens. I see myself in them, and I try to be the steady presence I once needed. I remind them that someone believes in them. That is what Michael understood, too, that life is about the relationships we build and the time we give to others. I also try to be selfless through advocacy. As a member of my campus NAACP, I started a project to bring banned books into classrooms. These books often come from Black authors, women, and other marginalized voices, and students deserve to see themselves in those stories. Watching a student realize their life is reflected in a book is powerful. To me, that is another way to lift others, by making sure they feel seen and valued. Michael cared about giving people access to what they needed, and I want to do the same. Service is also central to my faith. Every Sunday, I volunteer in my church’s children’s ministry. During the holidays, I have organized food drives to make sure families can share meals together. These may not seem like grand gestures, but I believe selflessness is found in the steady, small choices to put others first. That is the kind of life Michael lived, and it is the kind I want to live as well. It has not always been easy. Balancing service with school and financial hardship has been a challenge. Still, I keep moving toward my dream. I am studying biology because I want to become an obstetrician. One day, I hope to open a free clinic for women in underserved communities. Too many women, especially women of color, lack access to safe and respectful care. My dream is to create a place where every woman who walks in feels heard, valued, and cared for. Michael believed life was about lifting others and making the world brighter. Whether I am mentoring students, bringing books into classrooms, serving at church, or preparing for a career in women’s health, I want my work to reflect that same legacy. Thank you for considering me for this scholarship. To be chosen in Michael’s honor would help me continue my education and remind me to keep walking the path of selflessness that he showed through his life.

My name is Jasmine Smith, and I am a first-generation college student at Xavier University of Louisiana, studying Biology. I want to become an OB-GYN because I know what it feels like to face challenges and still fight for something better. For me, medicine isn’t just about science; it’s also about listening, advocating, and creating safe spaces where women feel seen and cared for. The road here hasn’t been smooth. In 2023, I lost my grandmother, who had been my biggest source of support. Her passing left me struggling to keep up with school while carrying the weight of grief. At the same time, my family was dealing with my father’s alcoholism and his legal battles, which added another layer of stress. Later that year, I was diagnosed with ADHD, finally putting a name to the concentration and focus struggles I had carried with me for so long. At first, it felt like everything was stacked against me. But those challenges taught me how to keep pushing forward, even when it’s hard. They showed me that resilience is not just about surviving, it’s about growing stronger and finding purpose through the struggle. One of the places I’ve found that purpose is in serving others. I volunteered at the Community Health Clinic in Houston, where I helped with patient intake, checked vital signs, updated records, and explained health resources to patients who often felt overwhelmed. I saw how much kindness and patience could mean to someone in a vulnerable moment. At Xavier, joining Sigma Gamma Rho Sorority, Incorporated gave me more opportunities to serve by supporting women, youth, and families through community projects that go beyond campus. These experiences remind me that helping others is at the heart of who I am, and it’s what I want my career in medicine to be built on. As a future OB-GYN, I want to focus on reducing maternal health disparities, especially for women of color and low-income mothers. Too many women face unnecessary risks during pregnancy and childbirth because they aren’t believed or don’t have access to adequate care. I want to be the kind of doctor who not only provides medical treatment but also makes patients feel respected, valued, and supported. Catrina Celestine Aquilino’s story inspires me deeply. She lived her life in service, making justice accessible to people, no matter their background. That belief mirrors my own vision for healthcare, which is that no matter where someone comes from, they deserve safe, compassionate, and equitable care. Her legacy reminds me that one person’s work can ripple outward and change lives, and that’s the kind of impact I want to make through medicine. This scholarship would not only help ease the financial strain of pursuing my degree but would also allow me to carry forward the values of resilience, service, and compassion that Catrina lived by. Thank you for considering my application and for continuing her legacy by supporting students like me who are determined to make a difference.

My journey toward a healthcare career has been shaped by resilience, sacrifice, and the belief that adversity can create a deeper sense of purpose. As a biology student at Xavier University of Louisiana, I am pursuing my dream of becoming an obstetrician, but this path has not been an easy one. Financial hardship, personal loss, and the challenges of living with ADHD have tested my determination. Yet, these experiences have strengthened my resolve to use medicine as a way to uplift others, especially women navigating some of the most vulnerable moments of their lives. I grew up in Houston, Texas, in a family where financial stability was not always guaranteed. My father’s struggles with alcoholism and legal issues placed heavy burdens on my household, while my mother worked tirelessly to keep us afloat. When my grandmother passed away in 2023, it was another devastating blow that affected my academic performance and mental health. At the same time, I had to step up to support my brothers, one who faces ongoing mental health challenges, and another preparing to welcome his first child. These responsibilities required me to mature quickly, learning how to balance caregiving with my own education. On top of family struggles, I was recently diagnosed with ADHD after years of unexplained difficulties with focus, time management, and academic organization. Although the diagnosis was daunting, it also brought clarity and relief. With the help of medication and new study strategies, I’ve learned how to manage my condition while maintaining a GPA above 3.5. Instead of viewing ADHD as a limitation, I see it as a challenge that has taught me resilience, creativity, and persistence, which are qualities that will serve me well as a future physician. Financial need has always been a reality in my education. Scholarships and financial aid make it possible for me to remain enrolled, but every semester comes with the pressure of wondering how I will continue to afford my tuition, books, and living expenses. These challenges weigh heavily, but they also remind me why I chose healthcare, which is because I want to make life easier for others who are carrying invisible burdens of their own. I have already seen the difference healthcare can make through my volunteer work at the Community Health Clinic in Houston. There, I assisted with patient intake, recorded vital signs, educated patients on wellness, and supported outreach programs. Many of the people we served faced the same kinds of financial and personal struggles I know firsthand. Meeting them where they were, with compassion and dignity, showed me that medicine is not just about treatment, but it is also about advocacy, education, and empathy. My ultimate goal is to specialize in obstetrics. Women’s healthcare is an area where compassion and trust are essential, and too often, women (especially women of color) are not heard or supported during their healthcare experiences. I want to change that. I hope to create spaces where all women feel safe, respected, and cared for at every stage of pregnancy and beyond. By combining my personal resilience with my professional training, I aim to be a physician who uplifts others not only through medical expertise but also through understanding. The journey toward medicine is long, but I know it is worth it. Every obstacle I’ve faced has prepared me to serve my future patients with empathy and strength. This scholarship would not only ease the financial strain of pursuing my degree but also remind me that I am not alone in this journey and that others believe in my potential to make a difference.

Life has taught me that adversity doesn't have to be the end of anyone's story, but can actually be the beginning of their resilience. I have faced challenges that tested my strength, from family struggles to academic setbacks. Each obstacle has shaped my character and has reminded me that success is not defined by the absence of hardship, but by my determination to keep moving forward despite it. One of the hardest moments of my life was losing my grandmother in 2023. She was the heart of my family, and her passing left a void that deeply affected my academic performance and emotional well-being. At the same time, my father was facing a DUI case that carried the possibility of a 25-year sentence, and my family was under an extensive amount of stress. I also had to step up for my brothers. One is battling mental health issues of his own, and the other was preparing to become a father for the first time. Balancing my own grief with the responsibility of supporting my family was not easy, but it forced me to grow stronger and more compassionate. Around this time, I was also diagnosed with ADHD, which explained the concentration and focus difficulties I had been experiencing. Instead of allowing this diagnosis to discourage me, I chose to treat it as an opportunity to learn more about myself and develop healthier habits. With medical treatment, improved organization, and intentional self-care, I finally began to regain control over my academics. Today, I maintain a GPA above 3.5 while pursuing a biology degree at Xavier University of Louisiana, determined to one day become an Obstetrician/Gynecologist. My experiences with adversity have strengthened my commitment to helping others. Volunteering has always been a passion of mine, but it became even more meaningful as I dealt with my own challenges. I have volunteered at the Community Health Clinic in Houston, assisting healthcare professionals with patient intake, recording vital signs, and educating patients on wellness practices. I also participated in community outreach programs that connected families with the resources they needed most. These opportunities taught me the value of service and the importance of meeting people where they are with compassion and respect. Beyond formal volunteer work, I have also lent a hand within my own family and community. Supporting my brother through his mental health obstacles has required patience, empathy, and resilience. It has also inspired me to continue advocating for mental health awareness, especially within communities of color where stigma often prevents people from seeking help. Additionally, through Sigma Gamma Rho Sorority, Inc., I engage in service initiatives that empower young women, strengthen community ties, and emphasize scholarship and leadership. Adversity has tested me in ways I never expected, but it has also revealed my strength, persistence, and passion for helping others. I know that resilience is not simply about bouncing back, but rather about having the perseverance to move forward with a greater purpose. My goal is to carry these lessons into my future as a physician, where I will dedicate myself to serving women with the same compassion, patience, and determination that others have shown me during my own hardships. Thank you for considering me for the Alger Memorial Scholarship. Your support would enable me to continue my academic journey and expand my impact as I work toward a future of service, resilience, and excellence.

Throughout my life, I have often wondered why tasks that seemed simple for others, such as focusing during lectures or finishing assignments on time, felt so difficult for me. It wasn't until after recently being formally diagnosed with ADHD that I gained clarity about the challenges I had faced over the years. Receiving this diagnosis was both devastating and empowering, because I was faced with the reality of how deeply ADHD affected my academics and personal life, but I also finally had the tools to manage it. Academically, it can sometimes feel like running a marathon with extra weight on my shoulders. Reading takes longer, taking notes requires intense concentration, and the smallest distractions can completely derail my focus. Personally, these struggles have lead to stress, self-doubt, and depressive episodes. There were days when I questioned whether I was capable of succeeding in college at all. As a young black women attending an HBCU, I also feel the weight of high expectations from my family, peers, and community. On top of my own inner battles, I carry the responsibility of representing something greater than myself, which can be both motivating and overwhelming Despite these challenges, I have learned that my mental health must remain a priority if I want to succeed. One of the most important steps I've taken is starting ADHD medication, which has helped me manage my focus and energy levels. But I know medication is only one piece of the puzzle. I have built intentional routines around organization, breaking assignments into smaller tasks, and using digital reminders on my phone to keep myself accountable. I also schedule my study sessions around the times of day when I'm most alert, which has helped me turn my frustration into productivity. Outside of academics, I incorporate daily practices that strengthen my mental health. Walking my dogs, reading, and journaling all help me release stress and maintain balance. I've also learned to say "no" when my plate is to full, which is a skill that has been helpful as I juggle my responsibilities as a student and a member of several organizations on campus. My faith grounds me as well, reminding me that I am more than my struggles and that persistence matters more than perfection. Most importantly, I lean on the supportive relationships I have with my family, friends, and sorority sisters, who remind me that I don't have to navigate this journey alone. Through these practices, I have not only improved my academic performance but I've also grown in confidence. I no longer see my diagnosis as a limitation, but as a challenge that has taught me discipline, creativity, and empathy. I want to use what I've learned to have a positive impact on others. Mental health, especially in communities of color, is often stigmatized. By sharing my story openly, I hope to normalize these conversations and inspire others to seek help without shame. My ambition to become an obstetrician is centered around serving women during one of the most vulnerable and transformative times of their lives. I know that to be the best physician I can be, I must also be the healthiest version of myself. Prioritizing my mental health now ensures that I can show up fully for my future patients with compassion, strength and understanding. Thank you for considering my application for this scholarship. With your support, I can continue balancing my academics and mental health while preparing for a career in medicine.