From an early age, instilled within me was the belief that anything is possible, and that limitations are illusions. This was prefaced by the reality that setbacks and disappointments aren’t failures -- they are simply part of the journey. Every “no” is a stepping-stone closer to a “yes”. Thanks to my father's insight, in knowing that motor skills develop before verbal ones - At eight months old, I was taught to express myself through sign language before I could speak. He wanted me to feel empowered in my ability to express myself. That early investment in my voice was the foundation for unlocking my Marvel Hero potential. It was clear to me that I mattered, my voice mattered, and my dreams had no ceiling. At age 11, I found inspiration in the heroic medical professionals of Grey’s Anatomy. I was completely fascinated by each medical case and the doctors' efforts to save their patients. My childhood whimsy of resuscitating stuffed animals like the patients on television turned into a serious, purpose-driven ambition: a career in research and/or medicine. Fast forward, the COVID-19 pandemic deepened my passion for medicine, as it exposed the fragility of our health system and highlighted the glaring inequities within it. The pandemic revealed how easily communities of color were disproportionately impacted by health disparities. I was shocked to learn that African Americans, especially Black women, face not only poorer health outcomes but also bias within the medical community. For instance, a study in the American Journal of Emergency Medicine revealed that African Americans are 40% less likely to be prescribed pain medication than other groups, even though they are more likely to suffer from chronic pain. These inequities are not just statistics—they represent real lives, and they are unacceptable. We’re not just born—we’re built, shaped, and sometimes even reshaped by the world around us. While reading Post Traumatic Slave Syndrome by Dr. Joy DeGruy, I was introduced to the theory that trauma—especially racism and systemic oppression—can leave biochemical marks on our DNA, passed down through generations. That idea lit a fire in me, because for the first time, I could see a bridge between the struggles my community has faced and the science that explains why those struggles don't simply disappear over time." "Imagine your DNA like a coloring book. The outlines—the genes—are already drawn. But how each page is colored? That’s shaped by the world around you. Your environment, your experiences, your emotions—they're the crayons. They highlight certain traits, they shade others, and sometimes they even leave parts untouched. And it’s not just about us. How one generation colors their story can leave marks on the next. Epigenetics shows that trauma, stress, healing, and resilience don’t just change individuals—they can actually influence how genes are expressed across generations. As a biochemistry major, this discovery changed everything for me. I realized that chronic stress in Black communities—from racism, economic hardship, and even maternal stress during pregnancy—could physically impact health for generations. But I was also inspired by research showing that mindfulness, nutrition, and targeted interventions could actually reverse some of those effects. For the first time, science didn’t feel distant—it felt personal. It wasn’t just data and graphs anymore. It was a biological echo of generational trauma, and a blueprint for hope. Learning about epigenetics doesn’t just motivate me academically. It fuels my dream of becoming a scientist who empowers underrepresented communities—using compassion, research, and innovation to rewrite the story for generations to come. We aren’t locked into the pages we inherit. We have the power to color a brighter, bolder story.