The first time I learned about gender-related health disparities was as an impressionable twelve-year-old who watched news about the disproportionate impact of the Ebola outbreak on women in West Africa. Back then, I felt pretty removed from the issue, feeling as though there wasn’t anything I could do about it. “Improve women’s health, improve the world”, said Dr. Chan, Director-General of the World Health Organization. Though simple, this phrase carries with it immense meaning both in its directive to the world, as well as in my own life. I came across Dr. Chan’s words while scrolling through the WHO’s Instagram page (which I’ve religiously stalked since freshman year). Subconsciously, I allowed the phrase to percolate in the back of my mind, letting it crescendo into a motivational call to action that ultimately made me the women’s rights-obsessed policy-wonk that I am today. It further inspired me to publish an article in the John Hopkins Pre-Collegiate Global Health Review titled “Breaking Through Hysteria: Unravelling the Hidden Gender Biases in Healthcare” which raises awareness surrounding the difference in care women receive across the world. As a future physician, I aim to have just as large of an impact suturing in the OR as I do suturing words together. The words that comprise healthcare legislation aimed at improving access to contraceptives for women across the US improves lives. And the words spoken by Dr. Chan are what transformed me from a complacent twelve-year-old into a woman of action.

“Oh no, the battery just died on this one, let me find another” I explained to the patient as I exited the exam room. The battery on the blood pressure cuff wasn’t actually dead – I just needed an excuse to locate a larger one. The patient I was working with as a medical assistant over the summer was clinically obese and could not fit her arm through the standard cuff. When the larger cuff slid easily over her arm, I could hear the patient breathe an audible sigh of relief. Reflecting upon that experience, I realized that medicine is about more than just treating symptoms. At their very foundation, physicians must prioritize the comfort of the patient beyond merely providing a diagnosis. As a future doctor, I hope to work everyday to help people seek effective medical care regardless of disabilities or differences. Though this may sound redundant, patients are human beings; some are nervous, petrified, or embarrassed. Some have just triumphed over a life-threatening diagnosis; others are having to face a life-altering one. On any given day, a patient that I encountered might have had the worst day of their life, or the best. This experience introduced me to the human side of medicine that isn’t found in a textbook; it isn’t found by reading imaging or running tests. It’s the side of medicine that really appeals to my natural sense of compassion and empathy, and makes me unequivocally certain that medicine is the profession I wish to pursue.

Sanding, scrubbing, and dusting. Sanding, scrubbing, and dusting. The sound of the jigsaw deafened my ears, but I continued to cut through the wood. Although my body was still vibrating, I took in a deep breath of the sweet smelling freshly cut cedar wood. Sweat dripped from all corners of my body and the monotony of the labor dampened my motivation. However, I was determined to repair our deck and make it as beautiful as ever. I ran my fingers over the smooth surface of the planks of wood and finally, I knew it was time for the deck color. I went out and bought a navy-blue deck paint that none of the neighbors had. After coats and coats of paint application, the deck was finally done. This project was inspired by a YouTube rabbit hole that I fell in. I had started by searching for videos about how to calculate derivatives and ended up stumbling upon a girl’s channel where I watched her -- a 16-year-old -- completely redo her family's deck all by herself. And let me tell you, her end product was gorgeous; the paint job was immaculate and the carpentry work was flawless (women, you know, what can I say?). The YouTube video and my ability to complete the project inspires me to continue to take risks, challenge my boundaries of comfort and surpass my family’s expectations. I learned three important things from this project: perseverance, attention to detail and capturing the spirit that I can do it.

DNA sequences are approximately 99.99 percent similar between individuals. If so, why and how do people think so differently? How can we be so divided on topics of morality, politics and religion? These are the questions that flood my mind during a polarized in-class discussion about the origins of the patriarchy and its uprising. While I love to hear debates and different perspectives, the concept of how thoughts form and how they are influenced is always intriguing to ponder upon as the answer seems indefinite. Through my psychology classes, I have explored the different ideologies behind nature vs nurture. Our upbringing can have a very profound impact on our development and future perception of global issues. But I just know there are so many factors that could play a role in thought processes. It is interesting to imagine that every action we observe and partake in changes us little by little to become a unique person that contributes something special to society. By reading “The Righteous Mind: Why Good People are Divided by Politics and Religion”, one of my favorite books which discusses differences in human morality and reasoning (or lack thereof), I’ve gained tremendous insight into the inner workings of human nature which have led me to think more deeply about how conflicts arise and where our differences lie. I am blown away by what I have learned from this book, but I have to admit; I only have more questions than I have answers.

I close my eyes and slowly drift away to a state of Zen while listening to the peaceful Kirtan in the background. I open my eyes and chant “Nanak Naam ChardiKala, teraa bhanaa Sarbaht dah Phala” to end our service. I join the rest of the Sangat (gathering) at the Gurdwara on Sunday mornings to chorus this phrase which blesses all walks of life with prosperity and hope for their well-being. The Gurdwara, a place of worship for Sikhs, is a place that I call my home. It is a place that welcomes all no matter race, religion, sexuality or socioeconomic status with open arms and feeds all langar, a lunch that has been blessed by God. We all sit on the same floor, no matter our personal differences, but with one common goal, to be connected with one another. Visiting the Gurdwara brings me peace and ultimate joy. My trivial issues seem to be irrelevant after listening to the elegant recital of holy scripture. My material desires and selfish wants seem to dissipate after praying for the well-being of those who are less fortunate than me. Sikhism has allowed me to become a better version of myself and has taught me how to be a more empathetic and selfless person. I am thankful for Sikhism and I look forward to spreading its joy and teachings to others.

“Miss Karmen, my dad always hits me when I come home, and I don’t like it”, whispered Jon. My heart sank as I took in a sharp breath, preventing me from responding immediately. I could not imagine what this five-year-old was going through at home. After the kids had gone to lunch, I was having difficulty deciding what to do. I thought to myself, “If I go and talk to the teacher, then she will most likely tell the guidance counselor and they will contact the parent. I wouldn’t want to make the situation worse for Jon. But if I don’t do anything, he will go home and still potentially face abuse.” I decided to alert the guidance counselor. The counselor decided to call child protective services and they came and talked to Jon and me. I carefully monitored Jon while I continued volunteering. His mood was better, and his body language seemed to be more open again. I am optimistic that Jon’s home situation has benefitted from reporting it to child protective services. I am grateful that he was able to trust me with something as personal as this. After reflecting upon this experience, I realized the effect of not having a supportive home environment can have on child development. This experience has also made me more mindful of trying to understand the behaviour of others and their possible underlying sources of suffering. I learned that sometimes we are faced with challenging dilemmas with elusive solutions. I am glad I was able to help Jon by recognizing and addressing his situation as no child should have to face emotional and physical abuse. This experience has reinforced my desire to serve my community and gain a sense of reward through helping more children and families in Jon’s situation.

Rejection stings. After pouring hours into resumes and then seeing the words “we regret to inform you…” feels like a door being slammed in your face. I endured this feeling after my internship application was rejected from U.S. Representative’s offices. I questioned my capabilities and competence, however, I was not willing to give up. The very same rejections became a source of motivation. After revising my cover letter, I applied to more offices and landed an internship with Congresswoman Frederica Wilson. From press releases to meetings with stakeholders, these tasks were all uncharted territories. I acclimated to my environment and tackled my assignments. After a few weeks, the storming of Capitol Hill occurred on January 6th. News articles, interviews, committee session clips flooded my inbox and my assignments were piling up. I stayed late after hours to complete press releases and ensure our constituency was being served. After working diligently, my supervisor asked me to work as a paid health policy fellow over the summer. As a fellow, I enjoyed working with the legislative counsel to produce two bills which respectively allocate more resources for patients suffering from HIV and give schools greater health resources. Although getting rejected initially was an unpleasant feeling, my persistence resulted in this valuable learning experience which allowed me to find my passion in public health. The rejections helped me understand my own resilience. In the end, I realized that failure can be a source of empowerment and motivation as well as new opportunities.

Rejection stings. After pouring hours into resumes and then seeing the words “we regret to inform you…” feels like a door being slammed in your face. I endured this feeling after my internship application was rejected from U.S. Representative’s offices. I questioned my capabilities and competence, however, I was not willing to give up. The very same rejections became a source of motivation. After revising my cover letter, I applied to more offices and landed an internship with Congresswoman Frederica Wilson. From press releases to meetings with stakeholders, these tasks were all uncharted territories. I acclimated to my environment and tackled my assignments. After a few weeks, the storming of Capitol Hill occurred on January 6th. News articles, interviews, committee session clips flooded my inbox and my assignments were piling up. I stayed late after hours to complete press releases and ensure our constituency was being served. After working diligently, my supervisor asked me to work as a paid health policy fellow over the summer. As a fellow, I enjoyed working with the legislative counsel to produce two bills which respectively allocate more resources for patients suffering from HIV and give schools greater health resources. Although getting rejected initially was an unpleasant feeling, my persistence resulted in this valuable learning experience which allowed me to find my passion in public health. The rejections helped me understand my own resilience. In the end, I realized that failure can be a source of empowerment and motivation as well as new opportunities.

The first time I learned about gender-related health disparities was as an impressionable twelve-year-old who watched news about the disproportionate impact of the Ebola outbreak on women in West Africa. Back then, I felt pretty removed from the issue, feeling as though there wasn’t anything I could do about it. “Improve women’s health, improve the world”, said Dr. Chan, Director-General of the World Health Organization. Though simple, this phrase carries with it immense meaning both in its directive to the world, as well as in my own life. I came across Dr. Chan’s words while scrolling through the WHO’s Instagram page (which I’ve religiously stalked since freshman year). Subconsciously, I allowed the phrase to percolate in the back of my mind, letting it crescendo into a motivational call to action that ultimately made me the women’s rights-obsessed policy-wonk that I am today. It further inspired me to publish an article in the John Hopkins Pre-Collegiate Global Health Review titled “Breaking Through Hysteria: Unravelling the Hidden Gender Biases in Healthcare” which raises awareness surrounding the difference in care women receive across the world. As a future physician, I aim to have just as large of an impact suturing in the OR as I do suturing words together. The words that comprise healthcare legislation aimed at improving access to contraceptives for women across the US improves lives. And the words spoken by Dr. Chan are what transformed me from a complacent twelve-year-old into a woman of action.

I close my eyes and slowly drift away to a state of Zen while listening to the peaceful Kirtan in the background. I open my eyes and chant “Nanak Naam ChardiKala, teraa bhanaa Sarbaht dah Phala” to end our service. I join the rest of the Sangat (gathering) at the Gurdwara on Sunday mornings to chorus this phrase which blesses all walks of life with prosperity and hope for their well-being. The Gurdwara, a place of worship for Sikhs, is a place that I call my home. It is a place that welcomes all no matter race, religion, sexuality or socioeconomic status with open arms and feeds all langar, a lunch that has been blessed by God. We all sit on the same floor, no matter our personal differences, but with one common goal, to be connected with one another. Visiting the Gurdwara brings me peace and ultimate joy. My trivial issues seem to be irrelevant after listening to the elegant recital of holy scripture. My material desires and selfish wants seem to dissipate after praying for the well-being of those who are less fortunate than me. Sikhism has allowed me to become a better version of myself and has taught me how to be a more empathetic and selfless person. I am thankful for Sikhism and I look forward to spreading its joy and teachings to others.

The first time I learned about gender-related health disparities was as an impressionable twelve-year-old who watched news about the disproportionate impact of the Ebola outbreak on women in West Africa. Back then, I felt pretty removed from the issue, feeling as though there wasn’t anything I could do about it. “Improve women’s health, improve the world”, said Dr. Chan, Director-General of the World Health Organization. Though simple, this phrase carries with it immense meaning both in its directive to the world, as well as in my own life. I came across Dr. Chan’s words while scrolling through the WHO’s Instagram page (which I’ve religiously stalked since freshman year). Subconsciously, I allowed the phrase to percolate in the back of my mind, letting it crescendo into a motivational call to action that ultimately made me the women’s rights-obsessed policy-wonk that I am today. It further inspired me to publish an article in the John Hopkins Pre-Collegiate Global Health Review titled “Breaking Through Hysteria: Unravelling the Hidden Gender Biases in Healthcare” which raises awareness surrounding the difference in care women receive across the world. As a future physician, I aim to have just as large of an impact suturing in the OR as I do suturing words together. The words that comprise healthcare legislation aimed at improving access to contraceptives for women across the US improves lives. And the words spoken by Dr. Chan are what transformed me from a complacent twelve-year-old into a woman of action.

Rejection stings. After pouring hours and hours into resumes and cover letters, seeing the words “we regret to inform you…” feels like a door being slammed in your face as you are about to walk in. This was the feeling I endured after my internship application was rejected from my top picks of U.S. Representative’s offices. I began questioning my capabilities and competence. However, I was not willing to give up. The very same rejections became a source of motivation. After revising my cover letter, I applied to a few more offices and gratefully landed an internship with Congresswoman Frederica Wilson (FL). From press releases to meetings with stakeholders, these tasks were all uncharted territories. I acclimated to my environment and tackled my assignments. After a few weeks, the storming of Capitol Hill occurred on January 6th. News articles, interviews, committee session clips flooded my inbox and my assignments were piling up. I stayed up late after hours to complete press releases and ensure my Congresswoman’s constituency was being served. After working for a few weeks at my Congresswoman’s office, my supervisor increasingly recognized my abilities. Gratefully, I was given a job offer to come back as a health policy fellow in the summer. As a fellow, I was encouraged to pursue my interest in public health. I enjoyed working with the legislative counsel to produce two bills which respectively allocate more resources for patients suffering from HIV and allow schools to have greater health resources. The experience of leading a legislative effort to create these bills was incredible and people across the nation will benefit from them. After reflecting upon my experiences at Congresswoman Wilson’s office, I realized I would not have gained this exposure to public health if I was at a different office. Although getting rejected initially from other offices was an unpleasant feeling, my persistence resulted in this valuable learning experience about Congress and legislative roles in public health. The rejections helped me understand my resilience and ability to be open minded to other opportunities. I was also able to make long lasting relationships with my colleagues and gain valuable mentorship while working at the office. In the end, I realized that failure can be a source of empowerment and motivation as well as new opportunities.

The first time I learned about gender-related health disparities was as an impressionable twelve-year-old who watched news about the disproportionate impact of the Ebola outbreak on women in West Africa. Back then, I felt pretty removed from the issue, feeling as though there wasn’t anything I could do about it. “Improve women’s health, improve the world”, said Dr. Chan, Director-General of the World Health Organization. Though simple, this phrase carries with it immense meaning both in its directive to the world, as well as in my own life. I came across Dr. Chan’s words while scrolling through the WHO’s Instagram page (which I’ve religiously stalked since freshman year). Subconsciously, I allowed the phrase to percolate in the back of my mind, letting it crescendo into a motivational call to action that ultimately made me the women’s rights-obsessed policy-wonk that I am today. It further inspired me to publish an article in the John Hopkins Pre-Collegiate Global Health Review titled “Breaking Through Hysteria: Unravelling the Hidden Gender Biases in Healthcare” which raises awareness surrounding the difference in care women receive across the world. As a future physician, I aim to have just as large of an impact suturing in the OR as I do suturing words together. The words that comprise healthcare legislation aimed at improving access to contraceptives for women across the US improves lives. And the words spoken by Dr. Chan are what transformed me from a complacent twelve-year-old into a woman of action.

“Oh no, the battery just died on this one, let me find another” I explained to the patient as I exited the exam room. The battery on the blood pressure cuff wasn’t actually dead – I just needed an excuse to locate a larger one. The patient I was working with as a medical assistant over the summer was clinically obese and could not fit her arm through the standard cuff. When the larger cuff slid easily over her arm, I could hear the patient breathe an audible sigh of relief. Reflecting upon that experience, I realized that medicine is about more than just treating symptoms. At their very foundation, physicians must prioritize the comfort of the patient beyond merely providing a diagnosis. As a future doctor, I hope to work everyday to help people seek effective medical care regardless of disabilities or differences. Though this may sound redundant, patients are human beings; some are nervous, petrified, or embarrassed. Some have just triumphed over a life-threatening diagnosis; others are having to face a life-altering one. On any given day, a patient that I encountered might have had the worst day of their life, or the best. This experience introduced me to the human side of medicine that isn’t found in a textbook; it isn’t found by reading imaging or running tests. It’s the side of medicine that really appeals to my natural sense of compassion and empathy, and makes me unequivocally certain that medicine is the profession I wish to pursue. The first time I learned about gender-related health disparities was as an impressionable twelve-year-old who watched news about the disproportionate impact of the Ebola outbreak on women in West Africa. Back then, I felt pretty removed from the issue, feeling as though there wasn’t anything I could do about it. “Improve women’s health, improve the world”, said Dr. Chan, Director-General of the World Health Organization. Though simple, this phrase carries with it immense meaning both in its directive to the world, as well as in my own life. I came across Dr. Chan’s words while scrolling through the WHO’s Instagram page (which I’ve religiously stalked since freshman year). Subconsciously, I allowed the phrase to percolate in the back of my mind, letting it crescendo into a motivational call to action that ultimately made me the women’s rights-obsessed policy-wonk that I am today. It further inspired me to publish an article in the John Hopkins Pre-Collegiate Global Health Review titled “Breaking Through Hysteria: Unravelling the Hidden Gender Biases in Healthcare” which raises awareness surrounding the difference in care women receive across the world. As a future physician, I aim to have just as large of an impact suturing in the OR as I do suturing words together. The words that comprise healthcare legislation aimed at improving access to contraceptives for women across the US improves lives. And the words spoken by Dr. Chan are what transformed me from a complacent twelve-year-old into a woman of action.

“Oh no, the battery just died on this one, let me find another” I explained to the patient as I exited the exam room. The battery on the blood pressure cuff wasn’t actually dead – I just needed an excuse to locate a larger one. The patient I was working with as a medical assistant over the summer was clinically obese and could not fit her arm through the standard cuff. When the larger cuff slid easily over her arm, I could hear the patient breathe an audible sigh of relief. Reflecting upon that experience, I realized that medicine is about more than just treating symptoms. At their very foundation, physicians must prioritize the comfort of the patient beyond merely providing a diagnosis. As a future doctor, I hope to work everyday to help people seek effective medical care regardless of disabilities or differences. Though this may sound redundant, patients are human beings; some are nervous, petrified, or embarrassed. Some have just triumphed over a life-threatening diagnosis; others are having to face a life-altering one. On any given day, a patient that I encountered might have had the worst day of their life, or the best. This experience introduced me to the human side of medicine that isn’t found in a textbook; it isn’t found by reading imaging or running tests. It’s the side of medicine that really appeals to my natural sense of compassion and empathy, and makes me unequivocally certain that medicine is the profession I wish to pursue. The first time I learned about gender-related health disparities was as an impressionable twelve-year-old who watched news about the disproportionate impact of the Ebola outbreak on women in West Africa. Back then, I felt pretty removed from the issue, feeling as though there wasn’t anything I could do about it. “Improve women’s health, improve the world”, said Dr. Chan, Director-General of the World Health Organization. Though simple, this phrase carries with it immense meaning both in its directive to the world, as well as in my own life. I came across Dr. Chan’s words while scrolling through the WHO’s Instagram page (which I’ve religiously stalked since freshman year). Subconsciously, I allowed the phrase to percolate in the back of my mind, letting it crescendo into a motivational call to action that ultimately made me the women’s rights-obsessed policy-wonk that I am today. It further inspired me to publish an article in the John Hopkins Pre-Collegiate Global Health Review titled “Breaking Through Hysteria: Unravelling the Hidden Gender Biases in Healthcare” which raises awareness surrounding the difference in care women receive across the world. As a future physician, I aim to have just as large of an impact suturing in the OR as I do suturing words together. The words that comprise healthcare legislation aimed at improving access to contraceptives for women across the US improves lives. And the words spoken by Dr. Chan are what transformed me from a complacent twelve-year-old into a woman of action.

Rejection stings. After pouring hours and hours into resumes and cover letters, seeing the words “we regret to inform you…” feels like a door being slammed in your face as you are about to walk in. This was the feeling I endured after my internship application was rejected from my top picks of U.S. Representative’s offices. I began questioning my capabilities and competence. However, I was not willing to give up. The very same rejections became a source of motivation. After revising my cover letter, I applied to a few more offices and gratefully landed an internship with Congresswoman Frederica Wilson (FL). From press releases to meetings with stakeholders, these tasks were all uncharted territories. I acclimated to my environment and tackled my assignments. After a few weeks, the storming of Capitol Hill occurred on January 6th. News articles, interviews, committee session clips flooded my inbox and my assignments were piling up. I stayed up late after hours to complete press releases and ensure my Congresswoman’s constituency was being served. After working for a few weeks at my Congresswoman’s office, my supervisor increasingly recognized my abilities. Gratefully, I was given a job offer to come back as a health policy fellow in the summer. As a fellow, I was encouraged to pursue my interest in public health. I enjoyed working with the legislative counsel to produce two bills which respectively allocate more resources for patients suffering from HIV and allow schools to have greater health resources. The experience of leading a legislative effort to create these bills was incredible and people across the nation will benefit from them. After reflecting upon my experiences at Congresswoman Wilson’s office, I realized I would not have gained this exposure to public health if I was at a different office. Although getting rejected initially from other offices was an unpleasant feeling, my persistence resulted in this valuable learning experience about Congress and legislative roles in public health. The rejections helped me understand my resilience and ability to be open minded to other opportunities. I was also able to make long lasting relationships with my colleagues and gain valuable mentorship while working at the office. In the end, I realized that failure can be a source of empowerment and motivation as well as new opportunities.

“Oh no, the battery just died on this one, let me find another” I explained to the patient as I exited the exam room. The battery on the blood pressure cuff wasn’t actually dead – I just needed an excuse to locate a larger one. The patient I was working with as a medical assistant over the summer was clinically obese and could not fit her arm through the standard cuff. When the larger cuff slid easily over her arm, I could hear the patient breathe an audible sigh of relief. Reflecting upon that experience, I realized that medicine is about more than just treating symptoms. At their very foundation, physicians must prioritize the comfort of the patient beyond merely providing a diagnosis. As a future doctor, I hope to work everyday to help people seek effective medical care regardless of disabilities or differences. Though this may sound redundant, patients are human beings; some are nervous, petrified, or embarrassed. Some have just triumphed over a life-threatening diagnosis; others are having to face a life-altering one. On any given day, a patient that I encountered might have had the worst day of their life, or the best. This experience introduced me to the human side of medicine that isn’t found in a textbook; it isn’t found by reading imaging or running tests. It’s the side of medicine that really appeals to my natural sense of compassion and empathy, and makes me unequivocally certain that medicine is the profession I wish to pursue. Working to undo sexism in healthcare is another one of my goals. The first time I learned about gender-related health disparities was as an impressionable twelve-year-old who watched news about the disproportionate impact of the Ebola outbreak on women in West Africa. Back then, I felt pretty removed from the issue, feeling as though there wasn’t anything I could do about it. “Improve women’s health, improve the world”, said Dr. Chan, Director-General of the World Health Organization. Though simple, this phrase carries with it immense meaning both in its directive to the world, as well as in my own life. I came across Dr. Chan’s words while scrolling through the WHO’s Instagram page (which I’ve religiously stalked since freshman year). Subconsciously, I allowed the phrase to percolate in the back of my mind, letting it crescendo into a motivational call to action that ultimately made me the women’s rights-obsessed policy-wonk that I am today. It further inspired me to publish an article in the John Hopkins Pre-Collegiate Global Health Review titled “Breaking Through Hysteria: Unravelling the Hidden Gender Biases in Healthcare” which raises awareness surrounding the difference in care women receive across the world. As a future physician, I aim to have just as large of an impact suturing in the OR as I do suturing words together. The words that comprise healthcare legislation aimed at improving access to contraceptives for women across the US improves lives. And the words spoken by Dr. Chan are what transformed me from a complacent twelve-year-old into a woman of action.

“Oh no, the battery just died on this one, let me find another” I explained to the patient as I exited the exam room. The battery on the blood pressure cuff wasn’t actually dead – I just needed an excuse to locate a larger one. The patient I was working with as a medical assistant over the summer was clinically obese and could not fit her arm through the standard cuff. When the larger cuff slid easily over her arm, I could hear the patient breathe an audible sigh of relief. Reflecting upon that experience, I realized that medicine is about more than just treating symptoms. At their very foundation, physicians must prioritize the comfort of the patient beyond merely providing a diagnosis. As a future doctor, I hope to work everyday to help people seek effective medical care regardless of disabilities or differences. Though this may sound redundant, patients are human beings; some are nervous, petrified, or embarrassed. Some have just triumphed over a life-threatening diagnosis; others are having to face a life-altering one. On any given day, a patient that I encountered might have had the worst day of their life, or the best. This experience introduced me to the human side of medicine that isn’t found in a textbook; it isn’t found by reading imaging or running tests. It’s the side of medicine that really appeals to my natural sense of compassion and empathy, and makes me unequivocally certain that medicine is the profession I wish to pursue. I also hope to impact the world by working towards undoing sexism in healthcare. The first time I learned about gender-related health disparities was as an impressionable twelve-year-old who watched news about the disproportionate impact of the Ebola outbreak on women in West Africa. Back then, I felt pretty removed from the issue, feeling as though there wasn’t anything I could do about it. “Improve women’s health, improve the world”, said Dr. Chan, Director-General of the World Health Organization. Though simple, this phrase carries with it immense meaning both in its directive to the world, as well as in my own life. I came across Dr. Chan’s words while scrolling through the WHO’s Instagram page (which I’ve religiously stalked since freshman year). Subconsciously, I allowed the phrase to percolate in the back of my mind, letting it crescendo into a motivational call to action that ultimately made me the women’s rights-obsessed policy-wonk that I am today. It further inspired me to publish an article in the John Hopkins Pre-Collegiate Global Health Review titled “Breaking Through Hysteria: Unravelling the Hidden Gender Biases in Healthcare” which raises awareness surrounding the difference in care women receive across the world. As a future physician, I aim to have just as large of an impact suturing in the OR as I do suturing words together. The words that comprise healthcare legislation aimed at improving access to contraceptives for women across the US improves lives. And the words spoken by Dr. Chan are what transformed me from a complacent twelve-year-old into a woman of action.

“Oh no, the battery just died on this one, let me find another” I explained to the patient as I exited the exam room. The battery on the blood pressure cuff wasn’t actually dead – I just needed an excuse to locate a larger one. The patient I was working with as a medical assistant over the summer was clinically obese and could not fit her arm through the standard cuff. When the larger cuff slid easily over her arm, I could hear the patient breathe an audible sigh of relief. Reflecting upon that experience, I realized that medicine is about more than just treating symptoms. At their very foundation, physicians must prioritize the comfort of the patient beyond merely providing a diagnosis. As a future doctor, I hope to work everyday to help people seek effective medical care regardless of disabilities or differences. Though this may sound redundant, patients are human beings; some are nervous, petrified, or embarrassed. Some have just triumphed over a life-threatening diagnosis; others are having to face a life-altering one. On any given day, a patient that I encountered might have had the worst day of their life, or the best. This experience introduced me to the human side of medicine that isn’t found in a textbook; it isn’t found by reading imaging or running tests. It’s the side of medicine that really appeals to my natural sense of compassion and empathy, and makes me unequivocally certain that medicine is the profession I wish to pursue. The first time I learned about gender-related health disparities was as an impressionable twelve-year-old who watched news about the disproportionate impact of the Ebola outbreak on women in West Africa. Back then, I felt pretty removed from the issue, feeling as though there wasn’t anything I could do about it. “Improve women’s health, improve the world”, said Dr. Chan, Director-General of the World Health Organization. Though simple, this phrase carries with it immense meaning both in its directive to the world, as well as in my own life. I came across Dr. Chan’s words while scrolling through the WHO’s Instagram page (which I’ve religiously stalked since freshman year). Subconsciously, I allowed the phrase to percolate in the back of my mind, letting it crescendo into a motivational call to action that ultimately made me the women’s rights-obsessed policy-wonk that I am today. It further inspired me to publish an article in the John Hopkins Pre-Collegiate Global Health Review titled “Breaking Through Hysteria: Unravelling the Hidden Gender Biases in Healthcare” which raises awareness surrounding the difference in care women receive across the world. As a future physician, I aim to have just as large of an impact suturing in the OR as I do suturing words together. The words that comprise healthcare legislation aimed at improving access to contraceptives for women across the US improves lives. And the words spoken by Dr. Chan are what transformed me from a complacent twelve-year-old into a woman of action.