Growing up, I wasn’t just learning how to pass a volleyball I was learning how to carry pressure, responsibility, and expectations all at once. Being a student-athlete has never been about one single game or grade. It’s been about showing up every single day, especially when no one else sees the weight I’m carrying. I didn’t grow up with much. My household has one income, and with a military dad and younger siblings, I often took on the role of a second adult. I’ve moved nine times, lived in four different states, and started high school not knowing anyone. I’ve had to rebuild everything from scratch, friends, routines, a sense of belonging more times than I can count. But sports gave me consistency. Volleyball, in particular, gave me a place where I didn’t have to be perfect, I just had to give my all. I made the varsity volleyball team as a freshman and have been a three-year captain ever since. I’ve won MVP, made the All-League team, and helped lead my team to CIF finals and State. But what matters most to me isn’t the stats it’s the leadership. It’s checking in on a teammate after a hard game, staying late to help someone learn a new rotation, and being the kind of captain who listens. Because I know what it’s like to feel alone, and no one on my team ever should. At the same time, I’ve pushed myself academically. I have a 4.2 GPA and lead multiple clubs, including HOSA, the Health Academy, and Cougar Council. I’m the student rep for my school site council and have over 300 community service hours. I’ve done this while tutoring kids, working clinics, grieving the loss of my best friend, and navigating a home life that hasn’t always been easy. Volleyball was my outlet, but school was my way out. As a female athlete, I’ve had to fight for recognition not just from the crowd, but from the system. I’ve watched boys’ sports get more funding, more hype, and more chances, while we’ve had to prove over and over again that we deserve to be there too. That double standard hasn’t discouraged me it’s motivated me. I know I can’t change everything overnight, but I can set an example. I can show younger girls on my team that you can be smart, strong, and a leader all at once. Resilience doesn’t always look like a comeback story. Sometimes, it looks like staying grounded in who you are when everything around you is trying to shake that. Dedication isn’t just the early morning practices or the late-night study sessions it’s the choice to keep showing up even when it’s hard.That’s who I am. A student. An athlete. A leader. And most of all, someone who refuses to shrink herself to fit into anyone else’s expectations.

Being a woman in a male-dominated world is already hard enough. Trying to balance grades, a social life, mental health, and many other responsibilities only adds to the challenge. I grew up looking up to my dad, how he parents, how he carries himself, and the values he instilled in me. I've always had a drive to be the best in everything I did, especially in sports. My dad encouraged me to stay active and move my body, but I never felt exceptionally talented at any one sport. That changed in middle school when I discovered a passion for volleyball, something I didn’t realize would go on to shape my entire high school experience. I eventually tried out for my high school team and made it. But then came the challenge of balancing school with athletics and everything in between. I knew I had to make exceptional grades to get into college. Even though I loved volleyball, I was aware that it likely wouldn’t be the path to pay for my education, especially since I hadn’t been playing since childhood like many of my teammates. That meant I had to excel academically as well, not just athletically. Meanwhile, I saw how the boys’ football team seemed to operate differently. They weren’t held to the same academic expectations I was striving for. Their sport received more funding, more attention, and more recognition. Girls’ volleyball was important, but it didn’t get the same spotlight. That reality pushed me to focus even more because this was when it really counted this was when it truly mattered. Social life for a teenage girl is already complicated, and adding the pressures of competitive sports and relationships only makes it harder. Of course, I wanted to fit in like anyone else. But I had to remind myself that popularity or appearance wasn't what would define my success. And when it comes to what guys often value in girls, let's be honest it’s not always ambition or a clear plan for the future. That may be considered a “bonus” if the girl also happens to fit a certain look. Then there's mental health, another topic often overlooked. When does the media ever truly cover the mental health of teenage boys? Rarely. But when girls speak up, they’re often labeled as overly emotional or dramatic. I’ve learned that advocacy is what creates real change. As an athlete, it’s not about voicing every single thought or feeling, it's about choosing the right moments and asking: is what I’m expressing helpful to my team, my gameplay, or to the younger players who look up to me as a captain? Being a strong role model while balancing academics, athletics, and a social life has helped me become a stronger woman in a world often shaped by male dominance. But more than that, it’s made me want to challenge the system itself. I want to use my experiences to inspire younger girls not just to play sports, but to speak up, lead confidently, and not feel like they have to choose between being strong and being themselves. I want them to know that their voices matter, that their talents deserve recognition, and that they can succeed even in spaces not built with them in mind.

I think sometimes I live in a TV show—like every moment of my life has been recorded. That’s how I end up in some of the predicaments I face. When I was younger, my dad had to take me away from my birth mother due to her drug addiction. It hurts to think about sometimes—that she chose addiction over me. She stopped when she was pregnant but couldn’t stay clean as I got older. However, my dad has to be one of the best dads out there. He did everything he could as a single father, working ridiculous hours and even bringing me to the lab as a baby because he had no one to watch me. Eventually, we stayed with my grandparents for a while, though I don’t remember much from that time. I do remember every Mother’s Day, feeling angry—not at my dad, but at the mother who chose addiction over me. Despite everything, my dad never spoke badly about her. When I was five, my dad met my stepmom. She was one of the most beautiful women I had ever met, and when they moved in together, we became a family. She later had my two younger siblings, who I love with my whole heart. But after they were born, she started treating me differently. My dad worked a lot to provide for us, so he wasn’t around to see what was happening. Over time, she constantly put me down verbally. Things escalated when my dad got a new job during COVID, requiring us to move to California. While we stayed with my grandparents, they finally stepped in, recognizing how unhealthy our mother-daughter relationship had become. When my dad started working from home, he saw it too. One day, they had a major argument in front of family friends, which I believe ultimately led to their divorce. Even now, she still lives with us. My dad told me he wants to keep the peace for my last couple of years in high school and for my siblings. But even if they’re my half-siblings, that doesn’t matter—I love them more than anything. Not having a stable mother figure, or even one who would ask to adopt me, shaped my perception of family. But I don’t think this was the biggest challenge of my life. This past May, I lost my best friend, Andrie, to suicide. She was one of my biggest supporters through everything with my stepmom. During COVID, we, along with our other close friend Mbayie, would FaceTime daily. Even though we lived in different states, they were my core—my people. We laughed, cried, and leaned on each other. The night I found out was the hardest I’ve ever cried. Flying to Michigan for her funeral felt surreal—speaking at her viewing, seeing all her classmates, and, most of all, facing her parents. That moment broke Mbayie and me. Andrie had so much potential and a bright future. Why did she think this was the only way out? Despite these hardships, I never let them define me. Instead, they fueled my determination to succeed—academically, athletically, and personally. Losing Andrie showed me the importance of resilience, but also of being there for others, which has shaped my desire to pursue a career in healthcare. Overcoming the challenges of my childhood has only made me stronger. Life is full of adversity, but I refuse to let it close any doors for me. Instead, I’ve learned to push through, work harder, and turn obstacles into opportunities.

According to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, STEM jobs are projected to grow by 8% from 2019 to 2029, much faster than the average for all occupations. This statistic isn’t just a number—it represents the increasing demand for innovation and problem-solving in the workforce. From advancements in technology that enhance our daily lives to breakthroughs in healthcare that improve patient outcomes, STEM plays a vital role in shaping the future. As I navigated my own STEM journey, I encountered various challenges. One significant roadblock was adjusting to new curriculums and teaching styles after moving states multiple times. Each transition was nerve-racking, as I had to adapt quickly while maintaining my academic success, especially in math and science. Instead of letting these obstacles hold me back, I turned them into growth opportunities. I actively sought out resources beyond the classroom, joining clubs like MESA (Mathematics, Engineering, Science Achievement) and HOSA (Health Occupations Students of America), which kept me engaged in STEM and helped me build a supportive community. Additionally, I worked closely with my AP Pre-Calculus teacher, Mr. Caravjal, who has been a pivotal influence in my journey. His belief in my potential never wavered, and he took the time to work with me on concepts I struggled with. When I missed class to attend my friend's funeral last year, he went above and beyond to help me catch up on material, ensuring I stayed on track for an A in his class. His dedication reinforced my passion for STEM, showing me the importance of perseverance and support. As I’ve grown, my interest in STEM has deepened, particularly in biomedical research. Losing my best friend Andrie to suicide made me painfully aware of the gaps in mental health understanding and treatment. Her passing left me with questions—why was her struggle overlooked? Why aren’t mental illnesses treated with the same urgency as physical ailments? These questions drive my passion for research, specifically in addressing discrepancies in mental illness diagnosis and treatment. I want to contribute to research that not only advances medicine but also ensures that mental health is given the attention it deserves. Beyond mental health, I’m also deeply invested in addressing healthcare disparities in third-world countries. Through my family, I’ve seen firsthand how children in impoverished areas lack access to proper medical care. My grandparents once hosted a girl from China who was significantly malnourished and in need of life-saving heart surgery. Her experience, along with many others, has fueled my determination to work in global health research, focusing on bridging the gap in medical access for vulnerable communities. STEM has challenged me, but it has also empowered me. Through my experiences in MESA, HOSA, and the mentorship of teachers like Mr. Caravjal, I’ve developed a deep appreciation for science and its ability to transform lives. I plan to major in biomedical research, using my education to tackle disparities in mental health treatment and global healthcare access. My journey has taught me resilience, adaptability, and the qualities that will drive me as I work toward making a meaningful impact in the world.

My curiosity was first sparked by the intricacies of human biology, leading me to pursue a career in emergency room medicine, where I can thrive in a fast-paced environment and provide critical, life-saving care. The ER’s dynamic nature demands quick thinking, adaptability, and compassion qualities I have developed as a leader and student-athlete. However, my passion for STEM extends beyond the immediate rush of emergency care; it also lies in biomedical research, particularly in addressing the overlooked crisis of mental health. Losing my best friend Andrie to suicide left me with painful questions. Why was her struggle invisible? Why aren’t mental illnesses treated with the same urgency as physical ailments? These questions drive me to explore the intersection of medicine and mental health, challenging the gaps in diagnosis, treatment, and societal perception. I aspire to contribute to research that not only advances emergency medicine but also ensures that mental health is integrated into patient care with the same rigor as physical health. My vision is to bridge the gap between emergency medicine and mental health research. ER physicians are often the first responders to mental health crises, yet the current healthcare system lacks adequate resources for long-term intervention. I aim to contribute to research that refines emergency protocols for psychiatric care, ensuring that patients in crisis receive not just immediate stabilization, but also a sustainable path to recovery. Through advancements in diagnostic tools, biomarker identification, and integrated care models, I want to be part of a movement that prioritizes mental health as a fundamental component of overall well-being. Books have played a critical role in shaping my perspective on mental health and human behavior. Diary of an Oxygen Thief offered a raw, unfiltered portrayal of emotional pain, self-destruction, and the complexities of human relationships. It reinforced my understanding that psychological wounds, though invisible, can be just as debilitating as physical ones. On the other hand, My Year of Rest and Relaxation provided a stark commentary on avoidance, isolation, and the flawed ways people attempt to "heal" themselves. It made me reflect on how society often downplays mental health struggles, pushing individuals toward unhealthy coping mechanisms instead of real treatment. These books fueled my drive to work toward a future where mental health care is proactive, accessible, and integrated into mainstream medicine. As the eldest child in a household with a single income supporting five people, pursuing a career in medicine comes with financial barriers. This opportunity would allow me to focus on rigorous coursework, research opportunities, and clinical experience without the weight of financial strain. More importantly, it would provide me with access to mentorship, resources, and a community of like-minded individuals committed to using STEM for the betterment of society. My journey in STEM is driven by a commitment to making a tangible impact—both in emergency medicine and in the fight for equitable mental health care. With this scholarship, I will be equipped to turn my passion into action, ensuring that no patient, whether facing a heart attack or a mental health crisis, is left without the care they deserve.

According to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, STEM jobs are projected to grow by 8% from 2019 to 2029, much faster than the average for all occupations. This statistic isn’t just a number—it represents the increasing demand for innovation and problem-solving in the workforce. From advancements in technology that enhance our daily lives to breakthroughs in healthcare that improve patient outcomes, STEM plays a vital role in shaping the future. As I navigated my own STEM journey, I encountered various challenges. One significant roadblock was adjusting to new curriculums and teaching styles after moving states multiple times. Each transition was nerve-racking, as I had to adapt quickly while maintaining my academic success, especially in math and science. Instead of letting these obstacles hold me back, I turned them into growth opportunities. I actively sought out resources beyond the classroom, joining clubs like MESA (Mathematics, Engineering, Science Achievement) and HOSA (Health Occupations Students of America), which kept me engaged in STEM and helped me build a supportive community. Additionally, I worked closely with my AP Pre-Calculus teacher, Mr. Caravjal, who has been a pivotal influence in my journey. His belief in my potential never wavered, and he took the time to work with me on concepts I struggled with. When I missed class to attend my friend's funeral last year, he went above and beyond to help me catch up on material, ensuring I stayed on track for an A in his class. His dedication reinforced my passion for STEM, showing me the importance of perseverance and support. As I’ve grown, my interest in STEM has deepened, particularly in biomedical research. Losing my best friend Andrie to suicide made me fully aware of the gaps in mental health understanding and treatment. Her passing left me with questions as to why was her struggle overlooked? Why aren’t mental illnesses treated with the same urgency as physical condition? These questions drive my passion for research, specifically in addressing discrepancies in mental illness diagnosis and treatment. I want to contribute to research that not only advances medicine but also ensures that mental health is given the attention it deserves. Beyond mental health, I’m also deeply invested in addressing healthcare disparities in third-world countries. Through my family, I’ve seen firsthand how children in impoverished areas lack access to proper medical care. My grandparents once hosted a girl from China who was significantly malnourished and in need of life-saving heart surgery. Her experience, along with many others, has fueled my determination to work in global health research, focusing on bridging the gap in medical access for vulnerable communities. STEM has challenged me, but it has also empowered me. Through my experiences in MESA, HOSA, and the mentorship of teachers like Mr. Caravjal, I’ve developed a deep appreciation for science and its ability to transform lives. I plan to major in biomedical research, using my education to tackle disparities in mental health treatment and global healthcare access. My journey has taught me resilience, adaptability, and the qualities that will drive me as I work toward making a meaningful impact in the world.

I think sometimes I live in a TV show—like every moment of my life has been recorded. That’s how I end up in some of the predicaments I face. When I was younger, my dad had to take me away from my birth mother due to her drug addiction. It hurts to think about sometimes—that she chose addiction over me. She stopped when she was pregnant but couldn’t stay clean as I got older. However, my dad has to be one of the best dads out there. He did everything he could as a single father, working ridiculous hours and even bringing me to the lab as a baby because he had no one to watch me. Eventually, we stayed with my grandparents for a while, though I don’t remember much from that time. I do remember every Mother’s Day, feeling angry—not at my dad, but at the mother who chose addiction over me. Despite everything, my dad never spoke badly about her. When I was five, my dad met my stepmom. She was one of the most beautiful women I had ever met, and when they moved in together, we became a family. She later had my two younger siblings, who I love with my whole heart. But after they were born, she started treating me differently. My dad worked a lot to provide for us, so he wasn’t around to see what was happening. Over time, she constantly put me down verbally. Things escalated when my dad got a new job during COVID, requiring us to move to California. While we stayed with my grandparents, they finally stepped in, recognizing how unhealthy our mother-daughter relationship had become. When my dad started working from home, he saw it too. One day, they had a major argument in front of family friends, which I believe ultimately led to their divorce. Even now, she still lives with us. My dad told me he wants to keep the peace for my last couple of years in high school and for my siblings. But even if they’re my half-siblings, that doesn’t matter—I love them more than anything. Not having a stable mother figure, or even one who would ask to adopt me, shaped my perception of family. But I don’t think this was the biggest challenge of my life. This past May, I lost my best friend, Andrie, to suicide. She was one of my biggest supporters through everything with my stepmom. During COVID, we, along with our other close friend Mbayie, would FaceTime daily. Even though we lived in different states, they were my core—my people. We laughed, cried, and leaned on each other. The night I found out was the hardest I’ve ever cried. Flying to Michigan for her funeral felt surreal—speaking at her viewing, seeing all her classmates, and, most of all, facing her parents. That moment broke Mbayie and I. Andrie had so much potential and a bright future. Why did she think this was the only way out? Despite these hardships, I never let them define me. Instead, they fueled my determination to succeed—academically, athletically, and personally. Losing Andrie showed me the importance of resilience, but also of being there for others, which has shaped my desire to pursue a career in healthcare. Overcoming the challenges of my childhood has only made me stronger. Life is full of adversity, but I refuse to let it close any doors for me. Instead, I’ve learned to push through, work harder, and turn obstacles into opportunities.

I think my favorite part about being a student-athlete is the community you build. Through sports, you meet some of your best friends. That’s how I met all my friends when I moved here from Illinois, having not gone to middle school with these girls. It gave me the chance to form a close-knit community as we bonded over our shared passion for volleyball. When I discovered that these girls also wanted to pursue higher education, it strengthened our friendships, many of which I still maintain today—especially with my best friend, Kirah. She has shown me what true friendship looks like: built on mutual respect, without jealousy or competition, even while playing the same sport. There was no rivalry or resentment, which can sometimes accompany sports. Through her, I’ve learned what a healthy friendship should be. This wouldn’t have been possible without our shared love for volleyball. We then continued to play club together, and the bond remained strong—driven by love and mutual encouragement. In high school, however, it’s not always smooth sailing; there are inevitable challenges, drama, and losses. Yet, everyone values the season because we all want to avoid conflicts and continue playing the sport we love. My high school team was fortunate enough to make it to CIF during our junior year. Although we lost in the semifinals, the experience boosted team morale. The awards we received afterward validated all the hard work we had put in and proved our efforts hadn’t been in vain. Part of the community are the coaches who push you to perform at the highest level. I believe my freshman coach shaped me into the player I am today, helping me remain consistent in volleyball. My club coach, however, had a personal connection with me. She was there for me when my best friend passed away this past May, giving me time to grieve and easing me back into volleyball. My varsity coach pushed me to become the strongest and most resilient player I am today. I was honored to serve as captain for three years, earn MVP twice, and be recognized as a distinguished scholar-athlete all four years. This past year, I was further honored with the title of First Team All-League MVP, an award that recognizes the top player in our league, voted on by the coaches. The support from the coaching staff was incredibly meaningful, and it felt indescribable to know they believed in me. However, being a student-athlete also means maintaining the grades necessary to continue playing the sport you love. My dad always encouraged me to play volleyball because he knew I would stay committed to my academics. Once he realized my potential, he allowed me to join club volleyball. This opportunity gave me a perspective that many student-athletes don’t experience. It strengthened my sense of community, allowing me to connect with girls who shared the same ambition of playing volleyball at the collegiate level while also being some of the most intellectually driven people I know. Even though I had to join a new club team my senior year, I still keep in touch with the girls from my old team and try to spend time with them whenever possible. What I appreciated most about club volleyball was that these girls weren’t tied to my high school, so I didn’t have to worry about school-related conflicts affecting my club experience.