Much to our good favor, God does not like duplicates. This may seem unfounded but take, for example, the trees. Each tree is distinct; even trees of the same species. Their stature and the way they stand — some choose to melt in on themselves while others choose to stretch courageously. Each tree is adorned with aureate leaves branded with intricate details that make them unequivocally unique while others have no leaves at all. Even on a level inconceivable to the human eye, they make known their differences. Humans too are like trees. We are boldly born into our complexity and slowly bloom into our authentic selves. In Kentucky, there are over four million beautiful diverse people and each soul is a reminder that there is no one-size-fits-all. And it is this sentiment that I carry with me. In my lifetime, I have met over 25,000 people, which is nowhere near comparable to the nearly eight billion people worldwide. And, while I can't honestly claim to remember every face or each name, what's important is the story. Over the course of my admittingly brief seventeen years I have collected each of these stories and bound them together with my own; each of my personal experiences mixing together with encounters I have never known and some I will never come to know. To me, to contribute to the commonwealth is to accept that we are all different and we must not only acknowledge these differences but work actively and relentlessly to celebrate them. I’m not excluded from this conviction so I have given my all to show that I care deeply about the greater community and each of the people within it. A wide portion of my childhood was spent in the foreign beds of homeless shelters and in the unfamiliar couches of distant relatives. Uncertainty had become my imaginary friend; known to me but hidden to the eyes of others. The uncertainty was multiplied by my absent mother and the domestic abuse I witnessed. And while I struggled, I feel that it is this toil that has allowed me to connect so intimately with others. I know what it means to struggle but I also know what it means to overcome and it is a triumph that I want to share with others. I know my calling. There is not a day I wake that I do not feel the vehement tempt of medicine. I know with confidence that it is where I can take everything I've learned from my struggles to help transform the healthcare system into a system that not only treats patients but serves them. We need people to stand up for under-served and underrepresented communities and to bridge the healthcare gap. I know my role. I know that the solution to ending medical racism and providing quality treatment lies within the physicians who treat the patients and I’m going to make sure that I’m able to represent our people well. I will use my stories and experiences and each of the stories I’ve bound together to not only celebrate the differences of others but serve them because that is what I believe to be for the common good.

Generation after generation of my foremothers have been laid to rest due to the gaping racial health inequities in the United States — inequities so deeply ingrained within the policies that stand as the backbone of our healthcare system. With the very foundations of these policies being formed in a time in which black women were not even considered human, it should come as no surprise to you or to me that to this day black women disproportionately suffer from horrifying health outcomes. Black mothers and their babies are 3-4 times more likely to die in childbirth than white women. Among other women of color maternal mortality rates have been steadily rising. Thousands of babies have been prematurely ripped from the bosoms of their maternal architects. Thousands of mothers without children. Their screams reverberate in my mind as an echoing call to justice. And it is a call that I refuse to ignore. Not only are black people less likely to have access to healthcare, but historically when they have gone to seek it they were met with unethical and racist practices — such as the cases of Fannie Lou Hamer, Henrietta Lacks, and the Tuskegee Experiments. This makes it that much harder for black people to seek medical attention, even in times of crisis. Research shows that when black people are treated by physicians that look like them they are three times more likely to have positive healthcare outcomes. Day after day I've studied the cases of the women lost to these disparities and I have allowed these women to shape my future. I’ve even come to know these experiences intimately as I have bore witness to the loss and pain of my mothers. Every bit of their anguish converges into a nauseating fuel that propels my will to change our healthcare system for the better, with the health of women of color and their children in the forefront of my mind. I aspire to become an obstetrician, one who will advocate for patients of color and help to lead the reformation of outdated healthcare policy. It is my hope that in doing this I am able to impact lives, and thus far I have taken every possible step towards this future. I’ve advocated for the reformation of racist health care policies with our state governor and those who sit in the House of Representatives. I’ve also taken the initiative to educate myself by taking a public health course at the University of Louisville. And, through both of these pursuits, time and time again I've come back to the answer that lies right in front of me. Access. The key to breaking down institutional racism is breaking down the institutional barriers that keep people of color from progressing and I will do my part in contributing to this future. I believe that the very first steps into this future is not just awareness, to me awareness is null, it is what comes after. Response. I will continue to advocate for each of the individuals who have fallen victim to our system and not only will bring awareness but I will generate reaction. Humans are deeply moved by feelings of strong emotion, and whether that takes the form of outrage, grief, sadness, or repulsion. These are the very emotions that propel us into change and I have made it my personal mission to enlighten every one of these emotions. With response, collectively, our communities become able to advocate for themselves. And, to me that is the true power.

Generation after generation of my foremothers have been laid to rest due to the gaping racial health inequities in the United States — inequities so deeply ingrained within the policies that stand as the backbone of our healthcare system. With the very foundations of these policies being formed in a time in which black women were not even considered human, it should come as no surprise to you or to me that to this day black women disproportionately suffer from horrifying health outcomes. Black mothers and their babies are 3-4 times more likely to die in childbirth than white women. Among other women of color maternal mortality rates have been steadily rising. Thousands of babies have been prematurely ripped from the bosoms of their maternal architects. Thousands of mothers without children. Their screams reverberate in my mind as an echoing call to justice. And it is a call that I refuse to ignore. Not only are black people less likely to have access to healthcare, but historically when they have gone to seek it they were met with unethical and racist practices — such as the cases of Fannie Lou Hamer, Henrietta Lacks, and the Tuskegee Experiments. This makes it that much harder for black people to seek medical attention, even in times of crisis. Research shows that when black people are treated by physicians that look like them they are three times more likely to have positive healthcare outcomes. Day after day I've studied the cases of the women lost to these disparities and I have allowed these women to shape my future. I’ve even come to know these experiences intimately as I have bore witness to the loss and pain of my mothers. Every bit of their anguish converges into a nauseating fuel that propels my will to change our healthcare system for the better, with the health of women of color and their children in the forefront of my mind. I aspire to become an obstetrician, one who will advocate for patients of color and help to lead the reformation of outdated healthcare policy. It is my hope that in doing this I am able to impact lives, and thus far I have taken every possible step towards this future. I’ve advocated for the reformation of racist health care policies with our state governor and those who sit in the House of Representatives. I’ve also taken the initiative to educate myself by taking a public health course at the University of Louisville. And, through both of these pursuits, time and time again I've come back to the answer that lies right in front of me. Access. The key to breaking down institutional racism is breaking down the institutional barriers that keep people of color from progressing and I will do my part in contributing to this future. I believe that the very first steps into this future is not just awareness, to me awareness is null, it is what comes after. Response. I will continue to advocate for each of the individuals who have fallen victim to our system and not only will bring awareness but I will generate reaction. Humans are deeply moved by feelings of strong emotion, and whether that takes the form of outrage, grief, sadness, or repulsion. These are the very emotions that propel us into change and I have made it my personal mission to enlighten every one of these emotions. With response, collectively, our communities become able to advocate for themselves. And, to me that is the true power.

Generation after generation of my foremothers have been laid to rest due to the gaping racial health inequities in the United States — inequities so deeply ingrained within the policies that stand as the backbone of our healthcare system. With the very foundations of these policies being formed in a time in which black women were not even considered human, it should come as no surprise to you or to me that to this day black women disproportionately suffer from horrifying health outcomes. Black mothers and their babies are 3-4 times more likely to die in childbirth than white women. Among other women of color maternal mortality rates have been steadily rising. Thousands of babies have been prematurely ripped from the bosoms of their maternal architects. Thousands of mothers without children. Their screams reverberate in my mind as an echoing call to justice. And it is a call that I refuse to ignore. Not only are black people less likely to have access to healthcare, but historically when they have gone to seek it they were met with unethical and racist practices — such as the cases of Fannie Lou Hamer, Henrietta Lacks, and the Tuskegee Experiments. This makes it that much harder for black people to seek medical attention, even in times of crisis. Research shows that when black people are treated by physicians that look like them they are three times more likely to have positive healthcare outcomes. Day after day I've studied the cases of the women lost to these disparities and I have allowed these women to shape my future. I’ve even come to know these experiences intimately as I have bore witness to the loss and pain of my mothers. Every bit of their anguish converges into a nauseating fuel that propels my will to change our healthcare system for the better, with the health of women of color and their children in the forefront of my mind. I aspire to become an obstetrician, one who will advocate for patients of color and help to lead the reformation of outdated healthcare policy. It is my hope that in doing this I am able to impact lives, and thus far I have taken every possible step towards this future. I’ve advocated for the reformation of racist health care policies with our state governor and those who sit in the House of Representatives. I’ve also taken the initiative to educate myself by taking a public health course at the University of Louisville. And, through both of these pursuits, time and time again I've come back to the answer that lies right in front of me. Access. The key to breaking down institutional racism is breaking down the institutional barriers that keep people of color from progressing and I will do my part in contributing to this future. I believe that the very first steps into this future is not just awareness, to me awareness is null, it is what comes after. Response. I will continue to advocate for each of the individuals who have fallen victim to our system and not only will bring awareness but I will generate reaction. Humans are deeply moved by feelings of strong emotion, and whether that takes the form of outrage, grief, sadness, or repulsion. These are the very emotions that propel us into change and I have made it my personal mission to enlighten every one of these emotions. With response, collectively, our communities become able to advocate for themselves. And, to me that is the true power.