Growing up as the oldest daughter in a Haitian immigrant household shaped my understanding of responsibility long before I understood higher education. My parents both attended college after arriving in the United States, but neither earned a degree. They took out loans without fully understanding the system and were left with debt and uncertainty. When it was my turn to apply, there was no roadmap at home. I did not have parents who could explain financial aid or course registration. I completed the FAFSA with the help of my school counselor because I was too embarrassed to admit that I did not know what I was doing. In that moment, I realized how isolating it can feel to pursue something no one in your family has successfully navigated before. As a first generation college student and a freshman majoring in biology, I often feel like an outsider in higher education. Many of my peers grew up hearing about internships, graduate programs, and campus traditions from parents or siblings who had already experienced them. I did not have that guidance. My older brothers began college but did not complete their degrees, which made the pressure heavier. I carry the quiet fear of failing, of confirming every doubt that whispers I am not prepared or capable enough. Even now, I sometimes feel as though everyone else was handed a map while I am still trying to draw mine. Yet being first generation has also shaped my resilience. It has taught me that asking for help is not weakness but strategy. I have learned to seek out professors, advisors, and mentors rather than struggle in silence. My hope in pursuing higher education is not only to earn a degree, but to grow into someone more confident, knowledgeable, and prepared to serve others. Service has always been central to who I am. I volunteer at my church, help organize hygiene pack drives for families in need, and participate in blood drives that support local hospitals. These experiences remind me that even small acts can create meaningful impact. In college, I plan to expand this commitment through clinical experiences, hospital volunteering, and research addressing disparities in women’s health and early disease detection. My background has profoundly influenced my future goals. Growing up in a household where financial hardship was constant and healthcare access was inconsistent showed me how vulnerable families can be. Supporting my grandmother through multiple strokes and dementia further solidified my desire to pursue medicine. I am especially drawn to women’s health and early detection because I have seen how critical timely care can be. My education is not only about personal achievement but about gaining the knowledge necessary to advocate for communities like my own. My greatest hope is to become the first person in my family to earn a bachelor’s degree and to show my three younger siblings that it is possible. I want them to approach college with clarity rather than confusion. At the same time, I carry the fear of falling short while balancing family responsibilities and financial strain. But that fear motivates me to work harder, seek support, and refuse to give up. Higher education may feel unfamiliar, but it is not unattainable. As an outsider to the system, I am learning to navigate it with determination and purpose. My journey is not just about breaking a cycle. It is about building a new path forward for my family, for myself, and for the future.

Growing up as the oldest daughter in a Haitian immigrant household shaped my understanding of responsibility, resilience, and service. By the age of twelve, I was cooking meals, helping my younger siblings with homework, and creating stability in a home where financial hardship was constant. Some nights the lights went out because bills could not be paid. Those moments strengthened my discipline and deepened my determination to succeed. I learned early that perseverance is not a choice but a necessity when others depend on you. Being the eldest sometimes felt isolating. I carried responsibilities alone, and at times it felt like no one truly saw the weight I was carrying. Yet over time, I realized that quietly showing up, day after day, can make the greatest difference, even when no one notices. That lesson has guided every part of my life and continues to shape how I engage with my community. My family’s experiences also opened my eyes to the challenges women face, particularly in healthcare. I watched my mother carry the weight of providing for our family while nurturing us with unwavering strength. When she experienced a miscarriage with what would have been her seventh child, I witnessed the emotional and physical toll that women often endure silently. That loss revealed how deeply women need accessible, compassionate healthcare and inspired me to dedicate myself to a path that combines care, advocacy, and healing for those who might otherwise be overlooked. I realized that supporting women requires not only attending to immediate medical needs but also empowering them with education, resources, and guidance. My grandmother’s third stroke was another defining moment. As her dementia worsened, I became one of her primary supporters, translating at appointments, guiding her through exercises, and comforting her during moments of confusion. Some days felt overwhelming. I feared she would not recover or would not remember me, and balancing her care with school and responsibilities was exhausting. I could not hold a job because my time was consumed with caregiving. Yet through this, I learned the quiet strength of showing up every day, the importance of patience, and the value of small, consistent acts of care. Even when my grandmother did not remember every moment, I cherished the opportunity to be there for her. Her vulnerability showed me the profound impact that consistent attention, empathy, and advocacy can have on someone’s quality of life, inspiring me to pursue a career where I can offer both healing and hope. These experiences inspired my interest in medicine and specifically in radiology. From a young age, I saw people I loved face breast cancer, and I lost close family and friends to the disease. Those experiences made me aware of how critical early detection is and how inequities in healthcare affect real lives. My phlebotomy and EKG certifications in high school gave me insight into patient care, teaching me to be organized, precise, and compassionate. Each step confirmed that I wanted to pursue a career in medicine where I could combine science, technology, and care to make a tangible impact. I recognized that radiology, with its ability to detect disease early, could help save lives and reduce suffering, particularly for women in underserved communities. I have worked to use my voice and skills to support my community in meaningful ways. I have participated in marathon walks and worn bracelets and shirts to raise breast cancer awareness, encouraging women to prioritize screenings and education. I have volunteered to make Valentine’s cards for patients undergoing cancer treatment, bringing moments of comfort and recognition to those facing difficult battles. I have spent hours at science camps, teaching children from underrepresented backgrounds about STEM, encouraging them to explore subjects like biology, chemistry, and technology with curiosity and confidence. I have organized hygiene drives and prepared meals for people experiencing homelessness through my church and community groups, coordinating donations, volunteers, and schedules to ensure that resources reached those in need efficiently. Each of these experiences reinforced the lesson that meaningful change often begins with small acts of care and that advocacy requires courage, consistency, and empathy. Leadership is not about recognition, but about serving others, amplifying voices that might not otherwise be heard, and creating spaces where people feel supported, valued, and empowered. Education has been the guiding force that allows me to transform these experiences into action. Through academics, certifications, and volunteer work, I have developed the skills and knowledge necessary to pursue my ambitions. I have learned to balance competing responsibilities, communicate effectively with diverse groups, and think critically when solving problems. My education has given me confidence and direction, and it fuels my desire to mentor young women, particularly those from backgrounds like mine. I hope to inspire them to see opportunities where they may feel limitations, to advocate for themselves and others, and to pursue careers in STEM and medicine with courage and determination. I want them to understand that education is not just a pathway to personal success, but a tool to uplift communities, challenge inequities, and create a ripple effect of empowerment. I want to use my education and voice to make a lasting difference in women’s health, community advocacy, mentoring, and STEM outreach. I envision programs that bring healthcare education to schools, workshops for women on preventative care, and mentorship opportunities connecting young students with role models in medicine and science. My journey has shown me that dedication, service, and perseverance are not just personal values; they are tools to transform hardship into healing and create meaningful, lasting impact for others. Each challenge I have faced, from financial insecurity to caregiving responsibilities, has reinforced my commitment to using education as a means to foster hope, opportunity, and tangible change in the world.

I am a piece of art. I am made of color, contrast, and complexity, and I refuse to limit myself to what society says is acceptable. As a Black woman growing up in a Haitian household, wearing piercings, colored hair, tattoos, or alternative clothing often came with judgment. People assumed I was rebellious, irresponsible, or not serious. Expressing myself is not rebellion. It is survival, it is identity, and it is a reason to keep showing up, keep learning, and keep dreaming. I believe everyone deserves the freedom to express their art, both to themselves and to the world, and that belief has shaped every step of my journey in STEM and medicine. Being visibly alternative has been both a challenge and a strength. In classrooms and labs, people sometimes questioned my commitment because of how I looked. They assumed that someone who dresses differently could not be precise, professional, or dedicated. I have learned that resilience comes from persistence and authenticity. I studied biology and anatomy with rigor, volunteered with children and patients, and pursued radiology because it combines observation, technology, and compassion. My alternative identity has taught me that curiosity, care, and discipline are not defined by appearance. They are defined by action. My identity has also shaped how I connect with people in STEM and healthcare. Patients often feel more comfortable opening up when they see someone who is authentic, someone who embodies difference without apology. My style and presence show that I belong, that I am capable, and that science is inclusive. Being alternative is not a barrier. It is a bridge. It allows me to combine empathy, precision, and observation in ways that others might overlook. I see patterns, hidden details, and possibilities that are often missed, and I translate that insight into care, understanding, and guidance. The road has not been easy. I have faced judgment from family, peers, and even mentors who struggled to separate identity from capability. Growing up, I was expected to fit a mold, to be conventional, and to silence creativity and expression. I chose instead to pursue curiosity and to show up authentically in science labs, volunteering spaces, and classrooms. I realized that breaking assumptions is a form of leadership. It requires confidence, persistence, and the courage to be seen fully while still excelling. Each experiment, each patient interaction, and each volunteer hour has reinforced that my presence and my expression are both valuable and powerful. I carry this lesson into my vision for the future. I want to be a radiologist who uses science and technology to uncover what cannot be seen while showing that identity, expression, and professionalism can coexist. I want to mentor other Black women and alternative students in STEM, proving that curiosity and creativity belong to everyone, not just those who fit society’s expectations. My art, my presence, my voice, and my style are my way of contributing to the future of STEM, making it innovative, inclusive, and human. I am a piece of art, and so are the patients, students, and communities I hope to inspire. Science is stronger when it reflects the full spectrum of human experience, and I will bring all of myself to make it so. Receiving this scholarship would not only help me continue my education but would affirm that being true to myself, embracing my identity, and pursuing my passions in STEM are valued and powerful. I hope to honor this opportunity by using my education and identity to make meaningful contributions in medicine and to inspire the next generation of diverse, alternative scientists and healthcare professionals.