As a first-generation Black woman working in medicine, I have always been proud to serve others. My position as an oncology technician at Moffitt Cancer Center has allowed me to walk beside patients in their most vulnerable moments, offering not only physical assistance but also emotional presence. However, one of the most painful and formative experiences I’ve faced came when a patient racially profiled me—challenging my competence and humanity simply because of the color of my skin. During one shift, I entered a patient’s room to assist with their care routine. Before I could finish introducing myself, they looked me up and down and asked, “Are you even qualified for this? I don’t want you touching me.” They questioned whether I was a nurse’s assistant, then muttered, “Figures they’d send someone like you.” In that moment, I felt invisible, despite wearing the same badge and scrubs as my colleagues. I was there to help, but instead, I became a target of bias and dehumanization. My hands shook as I calmly excused myself from the room, not because I didn’t know what to do medically, but because I needed a moment to breathe. I remember standing in the breakroom, trying to hold back tears—not just for myself, but for every Black woman who has ever had to keep working while carrying the weight of someone else’s prejudice. That day, I could have allowed the pain to turn to bitterness, but I chose something different. I reported the incident and later requested to assist the same patient again; not to prove anything to them, but to remind myself that their ignorance would not rob me of my purpose. I treated them with the same care I’d offer anyone, because my professionalism and compassion come from who I am, not how I’m treated. This adversity shaped me in ways no textbook ever could. It taught me that being a future physician means being strong not only in intellect but in spirit. It reminded me that racism is still very real in healthcare—and that I have a responsibility to dismantle it through presence, excellence, and advocacy. To anyone facing similar discrimination, I want you to know that you are not alone, and you are not imagining things. The pain of being seen as less than, especially when you are trying to serve and heal others, cuts deep. But please don’t let it make you shrink. Let it remind you why your presence matters. You are not in these spaces by accident—you are there because you earned it, and because someone coming after you needs to see you there. Protect your peace, seek support, and speak up when you can—but also give yourself permission to rest and heal. You do not have to carry the burden of racism in silence. Your voice, your story, and your care are needed in medicine. Every time you show up with integrity and empathy, you are doing more than surviving; you are transforming the system from within. Keep going. You are powerful, and you are enough.

Growing up in a Jamaican-Guyanese household, I was taught that success is not measured by what you gain for yourself, but by how much you give to others. That belief has guided every step of my journey, from being a home-schooled student earning my Associate’s Degree through dual enrollment, to becoming a biomedical science major with a minor in nutrition at the University of South Florida. Now 21 years old and pursuing my dream of becoming a Doctor of Osteopathic Medicine (D.O.), I find myself standing on the foundation of service, resilience, and education, values deeply reflected in the life of Mark Anthony Green. Currently, I work as an Oncology Technician at Moffitt Cancer Center, where I provide care and support to patients undergoing some of the most difficult moments of their lives. My work has taught me compassion, attentiveness, and the power of human connection in healing. In addition to this clinical role, I serve as a research assistant in the USF LASER Lab, contributing to research on stroke recovery and neurological rehabilitation. I also hold a leadership position as Vice President of the Pre-Medical American Medical Student Association (PAMSA) at USF, where I mentor fellow students and help organize opportunities for professional growth and community service. These experiences have shaped my ambition, not just to become a doctor, but to become one who uplifts underserved communities. I envision opening a community health clinic that integrates internal medicine, nutrition counseling, and mental health support. I want to serve populations who have long been neglected by the healthcare system, especially those experiencing homelessness, poverty, and chronic illness. I believe in the power of preventive, holistic care and in the ability of education to bring generational change. Like Mr. Green, I believe in using education to rise beyond your circumstances and lift others as you go. As a Black woman in STEM, I know what it feels like to be underrepresented, but I also know the strength that comes from using that experience to inspire and mentor others. I maintain a 3.7 GPA while balancing clinical work, research, and leadership, not because it’s easy, but because I am determined to create change. Receiving the Mark Green Memorial Scholarship would not only ease financial burdens, but also affirm my commitment to carrying forward a legacy rooted in resilience, service, and impact. With your support, I will continue striving toward a future in which healthcare is not a privilege, but a right, for every person, in every community.

The first time I helped a cancer patient stand after a chemotherapy session, her hand gripping mine with a mixture of fatigue and gratitude, I realized that healing is not always about cures, it’s also about compassion, presence, and human connection. That moment, like many others I’ve experienced as an Oncology Technician at Moffitt Cancer Center, affirmed my desire to become a physician who not only treats symptoms but sees the whole person. My name is Jayna, and I am a 21-year-old biomedical science major with a minor in nutrition at the University of South Florida. I currently maintain a 3.7 GPA and balance several roles that reflect my passion for service, leadership, and science. In addition to my work at Moffitt, I serve as a research assistant at the USF LASER Lab, where I contribute to stroke recovery studies, and I am also Vice President of the Pre-Medical American Medical Student Association (PAMSA) at USF. Through PAMSA, I mentor fellow pre-med students, promote professional development, and help cultivate a supportive and inclusive community of aspiring healthcare providers. My ultimate goal is to become a Doctor of Osteopathic Medicine (D.O.) with a focus on internal medicine. I am drawn to osteopathic medicine because of its emphasis on holistic, preventative care, something I believe is essential for truly effective healing. I want to use my platform to address healthcare disparities, especially among underserved and underrepresented populations. I am particularly passionate about integrating nutrition education and mental health awareness into routine patient care, recognizing the broader factors that shape health outcomes. As a Jamaican-Guyanese woman in STEM, I’ve often found myself navigating spaces where few people look like me. I understand the importance of representation, not just for visibility, but for access, advocacy, and justice. Like Michele L. Durant, whose life of service, education, and resilience inspires me deeply, I believe in the power of education to transform lives. She was a “forever student,” and I share that mindset. I am committed to lifelong learning and using my education to empower others. In the future, I envision opening a community-based clinic that combines primary care, nutrition counseling, and mental health resources to address the root causes of illness. I want to serve people holistically and create a space where underserved individuals feel heard, respected, and cared for. This scholarship would allow me to focus more fully on my education, research, and service without being burdened by financial constraints. More importantly, it would help me continue Michele’s legacy by becoming a physician who heals with empathy, leads with purpose, and uplifts her community through action.

Amelia Boynton Robinson and Samuel William Boynton are known for their fight for African-Americans' right to vote. Amelia Boynton was one of the few African-Americans to be registered voters because the literacy test discriminated against African Americans seeking to vote. Ameila used her status as a registered voter to become very active in women's suffarge and fight for the voting rights of African Americans. She became one of the first black women to run for congress in Alabama. The influence that the Boyntons had made on the voting rights movement was a crucial part of why the 1965 Voting Rights Act was enacted. Outlawing the discrimantory voting process such as the literacy tests. The Boynton's story has inspired me to pursue my path of education because it helped me realize how powerful represenation is. Seeing all of Amelia Boynton Robinson's accomplishments and her fight for equality makes me want to make a change as well. My dream is to become a Doctor of Osteopathic Medicine and over the past five years, as a young black woman in my community, in the city of Tampa, Florida, I have seen an increase in the African-American homeless population. In my personal experiences, I believe that this has to deal with the lack of sufficient urban housing to provide safe, secure, and affordable housing to the financially underprivileged. Additionally, with low wages, it can be very difficult to pay rent in areas where their workplaces are located. Not to mention the growing cases of mental illnesses and the absence of targeted health/social services, so these people don’t turn to substance abuse. I believe a way that I can contribute to decreasing the homeless population in Tampa is to integrate community services, and health care services, and inform people experiencing homelessness about complex health challenges they might encounter. For example, substance use disorders, mental health problems, and chronic medical conditions. Ensuring access to quality health care is critical and must be a part of a community’s response to homelessness. Throughout my life, I have wanted to see a change in the health care industry, and becoming a Doctor of Osteopathic (D.O.) medicine will help accomplish that goal. Being a D.O. will let me emphasize the “whole-person” approach; allowing me to listen and partner with my patients to help them get healthy and stay well, instead of pushing pharmaceutical drugs to just temporarily fix the patient’s ailment. I envision once I have my own D.O. practice, to provide a platform for civic engagement that focuses on people who are socioeconomically challenged. Also, allowing them the ability to have access to substance use disorder treatment services and application lessons; such as the Medicaid Health Home option which integrates health home providers to coordinate all serious, acute, behavioral health problems that support the treatment of the whole person.