When I was little, I used to tell people I wanted to become a stem cell researcher before I even fully understood what stem cells were. Most adults laughed because it sounded strangely specific coming from a child. My aunt, Saralynn, never did. She would ask me questions about it like I had already made up my mind. At the time, I did not think much of those conversations, but looking back, I think they made me take my own interests more seriously. My aunt has always been the person who pushed me to think deeper without making it feel like pressure. She never acted like intelligence belonged only to the loudest or most confident people in the room. Growing up around her made education feel less intimidating to me. I stopped seeing higher education as something meant for other people and started seeing it as something I could actually pursue for myself. That perspective became important once I entered college as an engineering student. STEM courses challenged me in ways I was not prepared for at first. There were moments where I questioned whether I belonged in those classes at all. During those times, I thought about how my aunt always encouraged me to stay with difficult things instead of backing away from them the second they became uncomfortable. She never expected perfection from me. What mattered to her was whether I kept trying to improve and stayed curious even when things felt frustrating. That mindset is also why I joined my school’s debate club, even though debate was completely outside of my comfort zone. Academic speaking has never come naturally to me. I tend to overthink my wording and replay conversations in my head afterward wondering what I should have said differently. Honestly, that was part of the reason I joined. I knew avoiding situations that intimidated me was only going to make me worse at them. One of the experiences that stayed with me most was participating in discussions involving Woxsen University in India. I went into it nervous because I knew I was not the strongest speaker in the room. Preparing for those debates forced me to think beyond memorized responses and actually trust my ability to respond in real time. Sometimes I stumbled over my words. Sometimes I had to stop for a second and reorganize my thoughts before speaking. But after a while, I stopped focusing so much on whether I sounded perfect and started paying more attention to the actual discussion happening around me. That mattered more. That experience also changed the way I think about my future in research. Science is not only about discovery. Researchers have to explain their work clearly, defend their ideas, and communicate with people who may think differently from them. Debate gave me experience doing exactly that, even when I felt uncomfortable. When I think about why I continue pursuing higher education, I come back to my aunt. She helped shape the way I see learning and the way I see myself. Because of her, I learned that being unsure of yourself does not mean you stop trying. Sometimes it just means you are in the middle of growing into something.

Mental health and physical health are deeply connected, yet in many underrepresented communities, both are neglected. Especially in women’s health. As a Biomedical Engineering student, I hope to bridge that gap by combining scientific innovation with empathy to make health care, including mental health care, more inclusive and accessible. I’m particularly drawn to gynecology, where the lack of representation in research directly affects how women of color are treated and understood. Many reproductive and hormonal conditions remain understudied, which not only limits treatment options but also fuels anxiety and self-doubt for those affected. The silence surrounding these issues mirrors the same stigma that surrounds mental illness, especially within BIPOC communities. Through biomedical research, I want to develop tools and technologies that address both the physical and emotional impacts of women’s health conditions. This could include affordable diagnostic devices or digital platforms that connect patients to mental health support as part of their overall care plan. My goal is to make conversations about pain, mood, and mental well-being a normalized part of medical dialogue. To make mental health care accessible, we must also make understanding accessible. By fusing biomedical innovation with compassion and cultural awareness, I hope to contribute to a system that values the whole person. Not just their symptoms. Representation in research isn’t only about science; it’s about dignity, voice, and the right to be fully seen.

1. Volunteering in the Intensive Care Unit taught me what true compassion looks like. I began each shift unsure of what to expect, but I quickly learned that small gestures like offering a cup of tea for a waiting spouse, a blanket for a tired visitor, or a few quiet words of reassurance can bring immense comfort in moments of fear and uncertainty. These experiences reminded me that healing extends beyond medicine; it begins with empathy. My mother taught me that lesson long before I entered the hospital. Her kindness has always been steady and unconditional, shaping the way I care for others. In the ICU, I saw her values reflected in every nurse, technician, and doctor who treated their patients as people first. Now, as I pursue biomedical engineering, I carry those same principles with me. I want to design medical solutions that improve not just patient outcomes, but also the human experience of care itself. My volunteering experience grounded me in empathy, and my education is teaching me how to turn that empathy into innovation. 2. To me, empathy means seeing people in their entirety and responding with understanding rather than judgment. It’s the ability to recognize that every heartbeat and every story matters equally, regardless of background or circumstance. In healthcare, empathy is not a luxury; it’s the foundation that connects science to the people it serves. As a student pursuing biomedical engineering, I’m drawn to the intersection of human life and technological advancement. Early on, I imagined myself in research, fascinated by the potential of stem cell science to repair and restore the human body. As I’ve grown and entered more professional spaces, I’ve realized how wide-reaching engineering in healthcare truly is. My curiosity has expanded toward women’s health and gynecology. All fields that have historically lacked adequate research and representation. I hope to one day combine the technical skills of engineering with the clinical insight of medicine to help close those gaps and develop tools that truly respond to patients’ lived experiences. Empathy is essential to this work. Engineering can sometimes feel distant, hidden behind equations and prototypes. But at its core, every innovation begins with a person in need. I remind myself that behind every dataset is a patient hoping for relief, behind every device is a clinician relying on its accuracy, and behind every project is a community affected by the outcomes. Keeping that in mind ensures that my designs are not only functional but thoughtful. To maintain a human-centered lens, I rely on three guiding principles: listen, collaborate, and reflect. Listening allows me to understand problems as patients and practitioners experience them, not just as they appear in research papers. Collaboration keeps me grounded. By working with people from different disciplines and backgrounds, I gain perspectives that challenge my assumptions and strengthen my work. Reflection ensures that I remain accountable to my intentions and mindful of the ethical impact of my designs. Empathy drives me to think beyond the “how” of innovation and focus on the “why.” I want my work in biomedical engineering to help redefine healthcare as a space where compassion and technology coexist seamlessly. Whether through developing safer medical devices or one day integrating engineering principles into gynecological care, I aim to ensure that no one feels unseen or unheard in their journey toward healing.

As a first-year engineering student at High Point University, I’ve come to appreciate how the most meaningful lessons in life often come from discomfort. My professional goal is to work at the intersection of engineering and healthcare, designing technologies that improve patient outcomes. But the path that led me here wasn’t a straight one as it began with learning how to find strength and identity in the midst of instability. When my father unexpectedly re-entered my life during my freshman year of high school, it changed everything about the environment I had grown up in. He carried with him deeply misogynistic beliefs that clashed with the values my mother had instilled in me: Education, Independence, and Equality. He insisted that women belonged in domestic roles, dismissed higher education as “pointless,” and told me that my place was in the home rather than in a lab or classroom. His words were meant to limit me, to make me smaller, but instead they ignited something powerful inside me. For the first time, I realized that pursuing my education wasn’t just a personal goal, but an act of resistance against the narrow expectations placed on me. What saved me during that time was structure and self-discipline. I created a personal system to stay grounded byplanning out my weeks, journaling, and keeping up with my studies. I learned that resilience wasn’t about ignoring hardship but about working through it. That mindset carried me through the remainder of high school and has shaped the way I approach challenges today. My grades improved, my motivation returned, and I began pursuing academic opportunities that aligned with my passions. One of the most impactful of these was my volunteer experience in the Intensive Care Unit at a local hospital. My role wasn’t clinical, but I learned the quiet importance of compassion in healthcare. I met families sitting in waiting rooms for hours, anxious and tired, and I made it my priority to check in on them—offering tea, water, or simply a kind conversation. Those moments taught me how deeply care extends beyond medicine. It inspired me to think about how engineering can play a role in making healthcare more humane; whether through medical device innovation, patient monitoring systems, or improved hospital design. At High Point University, I continue to build on the foundation that challenge created. College has given me the freedom to explore how engineering can directly serve medicine and improve quality of life. I’ve surrounded myself with mentors and peers who share a passion for innovation, and each project or discussion deepens my commitment to using technology as a force for empathy and progress. Every step I take in my studies feels like a continuation of the promise I made to myself years ago to not allow another's definition of me to create reality. The hardship I experienced in high school didn’t just teach me perseverance; it taught me perspective. It reminded me that leadership doesn’t always look like taking charge as it can also mean standing firm in your beliefs, even when it’s uncomfortable to do so. My father’s misogyny once made me doubt my place in the world of science and engineering. However, now it fuels my determination to succeed in it. His skepticism became the reason I value learning so deeply and want to create change through it. In pursuing biomedical engineering, I hope to bridge the gap between human compassion and scientific innovation. I want to help design solutions that make healthcare more accessible, efficient, and empathetic (particularly for underrepresented communities). I’ve learned that progress in science means nothing without empathy at its core, and that lesson began in the small acts of kindness I offered as a hospital volunteer. I am grateful for the challenges that shaped me because they taught me the importance of integrity, faith, and courage. All values embodied by Anthony Belliamy. His legacy inspires me to keep pushing forward, not despite adversity, but because of it. My story is proof that strength can be built quietly, that leadership can grow from resilience, and that purpose often begins in the moments we choose to stand tall when it would be easier to give in.

Engaging in volunteer work has profoundly shaped the way I view community, service, and human connection. It has taught me that the need for support is not always visible, and that even the smallest act of kindness can have a lasting impact. Through my experiences, I have come to believe that meaningful change often begins with simply showing up and being willing to help. One of the most formative service opportunities I’ve had was at a therapeutic riding center for individuals with mental, physical, and emotional disabilities. The facility was understaffed and relied heavily on volunteers to keep its programs running. Assisting with horse care and guiding riders allowed me to witness how therapeutic activities can empower people in ways that traditional settings cannot. I saw firsthand how moments of joy, independence, and connection can emerge from an environment of patience and care. It deepened my belief that service is about recognizing human dignity in all forms. Beyond this experience, I have volunteered with organizations including Habitat for Humanity, Johns Hopkins Suburban Hospital, Temple Hills Baptist Church, and other local nonprofits. Each setting presented unique challenges and needs, from constructing housing for families to supporting patients and hospital staff. Through these diverse roles, I’ve come to understand that there is no single way to give back. Service is flexible, expansive, and can be tailored to meet people where they are. As I begin my college journey, I plan to continue volunteering in both medical and community-based settings. I also hope to participate in study abroad programs that focus on global health, allowing me to take part in medical missions where I can learn from international healthcare systems while serving under-resourced populations. These experiences will strengthen my commitment to medicine and deepen my understanding of how health care operates across different cultural contexts. My long-term goal is to enter the field of regenerative medicine, with a focus on STEM Cell Therapy. Specifically, I am passionate about increasing accessibility to these treatments for people of color, who are often disproportionately excluded from the benefits of emerging medical technologies due to systemic barriers. I hope to contribute to research and outreach initiatives that promote equity in health care by advocating for affordability, education, and representation in clinical trials and treatment programs. Ultimately, I view service not as a temporary commitment, but as a lifelong responsibility. The values I’ve developed through volunteering will continue to guide my academic and professional choices. Whether I am working in a lab, assisting on a medical mission, or mentoring students from underrepresented backgrounds, I intend to use my time and resources to uplift others. By continuing to listen, learn, and act, I hope to be a person who not only understands the value of service but lives it every day.

Pagers might seem like a thing of the past in a world where we are always connected. However, their ease of use, dependability, and affordability have made them crucial tools in emergency response, healthcare, and conservation efforts, serving as a reminder that sometimes the most basic technologies may have a significant positive impact on the globe. These pros have resulted in emergency responders and hospital workers using the pagers as their primary source of communication between each other. The quick message on the pager can tell nurses and doctors when they are needed in an emergency (which can save lives in a matter of seconds). Additionally, pagers have shown to be especially helpful in locations where a cellular connection may be spotty or nonexistent. This is particularly true in isolated areas where hikers, campers, and wildlife researchers frequently rely on pagers to stay in touch and summon assistance when necessary. Pagers have also been used to track and monitor endangered species, giving conservationists a greater understanding of their movements and the ability to better protect them from damage. While newer technologies have emerged that offer more advanced features and capabilities, pagers continue to play an important role in many critical industries. Their simplicity, durability, and long battery life make them a valuable asset in emergencies, and their low cost ensures that they remain accessible to a wide range of organizations and individuals. As such, it's clear that pagers will continue to play a significant part in many crucial industries, although newer technologies have evolved that offer more sophisticated features and capabilities. Their inexpensive price means that they are affordable to a wide spectrum of people, and their simplicity, durability, and long battery life make them a significant asset in emergencies.