Hurriedly throwing my backpack over my shoulder, I exit the school doors into the hot parking lot. Though I am in my usual rush to get home, I stop in my tracks when I see the mother in the carpool line - her daughters dance in my dance company, but she is not a carpool regular. Catching up to me, she pulls me aside; when our eyes meet, I can see hers are tearful and swollen. “Didn’t you hear?” she asks. “Helen died.” I started taking dance classes at age two, and since then, dance has been the one aspect of my life that has remained constant. As I improved, I joined a competitive team. Despite competitive dance's demanding commitment, my love for the art never dimmed. Dance was my escape; it healed many of the struggles that I experienced as I grew older. Dance also provided a community for me. As an Afro-Caribbean girl in a predominantly white area, I often feel misunderstood, an outcast. The contradiction between the Afro-Caribbean and White cultures blurred my perception of beauty. Culturally, my hair is considered beautiful, but at school, it is too big and unkempt. I altered the parts of me that make me different. I masked my curvy body, and I straightened my hair to hide my curls. Unlike school, my dance community is diverse, and therefore I feel more welcome to express myself without fear of judgment. I met Helen at a dance audition. As the only two black girls, we bonded immediately. We shared the similar experience of being minorities in a predominantly white area. I finally felt like I had someone, a friend, who was like me. As we grew older, we found a sense of security with each other. I sought advice from her and learned from her experiences. Together, we worked to love our ethnic features instead of masking them behind flat irons and makeup contouring. We confided in each other when we felt unseen or insulted by others. We understood each other in a way that none of our other friends could. Helen died of Meningococcal Meningitis with no prior health issues. I became angry, and this anger turned to frustration, and then to overwhelming sadness. I could not fathom existing without her vivacious spirit in my life. Seventeen is too young to die. I realized, however, that she would not want me to mourn forever. I needed to honor Helen’s legacy and live my life with the same joy she had. Because she loved to help others, I became a more active participant in volunteer service. I helped to organize a breast cancer donation service in my dance community, and I partook in other acts of service like food drives. Helen was determined to be successful, and so, I have set high standards for myself to achieve what Helen will not. Science has always been my favorite school subject, and my interest has gone far beyond the walls of the classroom. As the daughter of two ENT’s, I’ve been immersed in the world of medicine since I can remember. When Helen died, I knew that I wanted to pursue a career in medicine. I became fascinated by medical problems and how doctors can intervene and alleviate them. While traversing the phenomenon of grief as a junior in high school was physically and emotionally tolling, I learned a lot from that experience, and it has helped to shape me into the person that I am, a hardworking African American student and dancer with a strong drive for success, navigating social challenges by impacting communities.