It never made sense to me why someone’s survival could depend on something as arbitrary as their geographic location. This confusion became painfully personal when I, living in the U.S., recovered from a severe stomach bug with little more than discomfort. Meanwhile my uncle, 7,000 miles away in Savalou, Benin, died of a similar condition before he could receive medical care. That loss transformed my perspective on health care forever. It showed me how uneven access to care can be, and how the system itself, not just illness, determines outcomes. My uncle’s death wasn’t just a personal tragedy; it was a wake-up call. I realized that too many people around the world face dire consequences from preventable or treatable conditions simply because of where they live. This realization sparked my journey into healthcare and higher education. I am currently pursuing a double major in biology and public health, with the goal of becoming an infectious disease specialist working in underserved communities. I chose this path not only to treat illness, but to fight the structural inequities that allow illness to flourish. I want to be part of the next generation of healthcare providers who don’t just care for patients, but also work to change the systems that fail them; such as the very system that failed my uncle. Beyond my academics and chosen majors, I continue to demonstrate my commitment to healthcare. For instance, in high school, I organized a fundraiser to build clean water wells in underserved areas because I understood how access to clean water directly affects health outcomes. I later interned with my county’s public health department, where I supported education around sexual and reproductive health and helped teach a freshman health class. Today, I serve as the fundraising lead for a global health equity organization on my college campus, continuing to engage in work that promotes health access on a global scale. This scholarship represents more than financial support, it represents a support for the belief that healthcare should be accessible to all, regardless of geography, income, or circumstance. With this scholarship’s support, I will continue to pursue the education and experience needed to become a healthcare provider who makes a lasting difference in the lives of others. My uncle’s memory, and the stories of so many others, fuel my passion to serve and to build a world where health is not a privilege, but a right. Thank you to the Sloane Stephens Doc & Glo Scholarship Committee for considering my application.

When I was 12, I watched it rain hair for the first time. As my sister snipped my damaged straight ends and started me on my natural hair journey, I watched it rain. Following that day, I would rely on wigs, synthetic braids, and hair pieces to conceal the true nature of my coily hair. It would not be until my sophomore year of high school that I embarked on the hardest part of my journey: wearing my natural hair in public. On the drive to school, I took to the internet; I looked for ways to calm my anxieties, trying to find magical 5-step guides. My hair was filled with coils whose beauty remained absent in my eyes. That day, however, my hair was met with heartwarming compliments from my peers and teachers. Feeling cheerful from the flow of compliments, I could not comprehend why I had felt so insecure. My state of perplexity remained until I realized that my insecurity was the offspring of the misogynoir and textureist behaviors that pervade society. Though filled with immense diversity, my high school was not safe from these prejudices, and so I felt apprehensive about displaying the beauty that sat on my head. With this new insight, I now felt increasingly compelled to work to eradicate these prejudices in my community.  At home and in my social circles, I fearlessly call out problematic behaviors when exhibited by friends and family. At school, for instance, I joined the Black Student Union, working to find ways to support and uplift black students at our school. It will take me a little more time to help all of society progress, however, my most profound step towards this occurred at my high school, outside my teacher's classroom.  After hearing that one of my favorite teachers had made jokes regarding Rosa Parks and the death of George Floyd, I was dumbfounded and truly hurt, but I knew I had to do something.  Standing confidently outside of my teacher's classroom, with a couple of other students who had witnessed my teacher's comments, I spoke of the mental and societal impact that their insensitivity would have on our school and students. Although my teacher persistently justified their comments, I and the other students involved did not give up in trying to convince them that their comments were inappropriate. We engaged in a passionate conversation, and soon enough my teacher recognized the inappropriate nature of their jokes and apologized. All students deserve to feel comfortable in their skin; they deserve an environment that welcomes and celebrates their identity. The feeling of being comfortable with displaying one's identity in any environment is a feeling that everyone deserves, and my experiences with being deprived of this feeling encourage me to advocate for marginalized groups by continuously trumping the bigoted behaviors I may encounter in my social and academic circles.  Racial adversity is a difficult thing to surmount and overcome. However, when we realize the power that our own voices have, we finally realize that speaking out against prejudicial behaviors can give us the boost that we need to overcome racial prejudice, and ultimately contribute to the fostering of a much more inclusive world.