When I woke up that morning, I faced an army of doctors and medical students gawking at me and jotting down notes like I was their science experiment. Then, I began to recollect the events from last night: collapsing from stomach pain, my mom driving me to the hospital after her 14-hour shift, the abnormal CAT scan, and being transferred in an ambulance to the Bristol-Myers Squibb Children's Hospital. Groggy after the memory haze, I suddenly sat up in shock as the doctor said, “You have Crohn’s Disease.” I was devastated and hungry to learn that for the next month, my nutrition would consist of no food or water, just the yellow TPN liquid flowing into the PICC line. Needing to prioritize my health, I utilized this time of adversity for reflection. I created a daily routine of walking fourteen laps around the ward, working on college essays, and reading the Book of Psalms for encouragement. After being released, I joined the Bristol-Myers Squibb Children's Hospital Youth Advisory Council, empathizing with other patients who have had the same struggle. We meet once a month to plan hospital events and to make improvements to the teen patient lounge. With the Helping Hands Club at my school, I have even organized a holiday card drive that was given to adolescent patients spending the holidays in the hospital. With this experience, I learned that the lowest point in my life does not signify the end of life but rather calls you to be more involved through service in your life. My diagnosis has not limited me but rather invigorated me to continue my studies to become a community-oriented dentist. My time at the hospital reaffirmed my call to action into the oral healthcare field to serve underserved communities, where dental and oral clinics are inaccessible, causing the people in those communities to be more susceptible to tooth neglect. My dream someday as a Haitian American dentist is to start an oral health clinic in Haiti where half of the population has little to no access to dental care, which is even more detrimental in rural communities. Afterwards, with a team of doctors and nurses, I plan to expand by building a healthcare clinic providing various healthcare services such as family, pediatrics, dentistry, and mental health services to Haitians in dire need of them. Though I am not in dental school yet, I have already gained dental experience as a senior in high school. For two weeks, I volunteered at the Southern Jersey Medical Center’s dentistry department as a part of my school’s Senior Capstone Project, and helped sanitize rooms, instruments, and even assisted in fillings. On my first day at the clinic, a Haitian man who didn’t speak English came to get a filling. He was worried about the needle numbing his mouth, so I talked to him in Creole to soothe his nerves so that the dentist could do the procedure on him. This experience helped me realize why representation in the healthcare field is so important; when patients see providers who share the same identity as them, it increases their comfort level to seek treatment when they need it, thus decreasing health disparities in underserved communities. My goal of opening an oral healthcare clinic in Haiti is ambitious, especially with the current political climate and gang violence ravaging the nation, but if I could stay at a hospital for a month with no food or water, I am confident that I can conquer the challenges and periods of adversity that I have yet to face through my call to serve others.

My soul came to me through the back of a tap-tap. It ran alongside that bloody red pickup truck, painted with the swirls of Caribbean sea blue, palm tree green, and sunshine yellow; colors I saw in the airplane above the island, but never up close. Once it caught up, it entered into me: a ten-year-old Haitian-American girl sitting on a wooden bench built into the tap-tap, nestling into my father’s chest. As my soul entered through my skin with the cool, night breeze, it formed a bond to Ayiti, cheri mwen: Haiti, my darling. I met my soul on the back of a tap-tap, but I developed it with my mother’s “emergency room horror stories” from her perspective as a nurse. One story was about an old lady who spat on my mother once, seeing her skin and hearing her accent. Yet, my mother wiped the spit off her face and continued to show compassion towards her. The same compassion was shown when she took a team of healthcare professionals every summer to provide annual check-ups to the poor in Haiti. Inspired by her compassion, my mission trip, and my passion for dentistry, my dream is to own a health clinic in a rural region of Haiti, as half of the Haitian population has limited to no access to dental care. My clinic will provide dental care and other facets of healthcare, like general, family, OBGYN, and mental healthcare, to better serve this community. By building a community-relationship between my staff and patients, I hope to generate an environment of quality healthcare, compassion, and unity that my mother valued as a nurse. My first step as a community-oriented dentist was volunteering at the Southern Jersey Family Medical Center in Burlington, NJ, for my senior capstone project. As a student dental assistant, my job was to sanitize the dental rooms after each patient visit, sanitize dental instruments, and assist the dentist in certain procedures. On my first day at the clinic, a Haitian man who didn’t speak English came to get a filling. He was worried about being stuck with the needle used to numb his mouth, so I spoke with him in Creole to soothe his nerves so that the dentist could do the procedure on him. This is why representation in the healthcare field is so important; it can combat the stigma of healthcare generated in immigrant communities. Representation increases patients’ comfort level to seek treatment through providers that share their identity, thus decreasing health disparities in underserved communities. In Haiti, there are only 0.12 dentists for 10,000 people, many of whom are non-Haitian volunteers, so there is a dire need for more representation of Haitian dentists and other healthcare professionals. Although my goal of opening a healthcare clinic in Haiti is ambitious, I believe that I am worthy enough to attain this dream because God has made me see the value of myself and my dream. When I met my soul on that fateful night, I realized that the love that I have for my culture and my people would be the greatest motivation that I have in anything I do and any challenges that need to be overcome; these are the swirls on the tap-tap. I realized that my enslaved ancestors’ sacrifices, the tap-tap’s bloody red coat, for their lives in exchange for their freedom, is my gateway to making the sacrifices that will help my people. My soul hears that call that God has for me to bring better healthcare to my people, and from knowing His love for me, I humbly accept this challenge.

My soul came to me through the back of a tap-tap. It ran alongside that bloody red pickup truck, painted with the swirls of Caribbean sea blue, palm tree green, and sunshine yellow; colors I saw in the airplane above the island, but never up close. Once it caught up, it entered into me: a ten-year-old Haitian-American girl sitting on a wooden bench built into the tap-tap, nestling into my father’s chest. As my soul entered through my skin with the cool, night breeze, it formed a bond to Ayiti, cheri mwen: Haiti, my darling. I met my soul on the back of a tap-tap, but I developed it with my mother’s “emergency room horror stories” from her perspective as a nurse. One story was about an old lady who spat on my mother once, seeing her skin and hearing her accent. Yet, my mother wiped the spit off her face and continued to show compassion towards her. The same compassion was shown when she took a team of healthcare professionals every summer to provide the poor in Haiti with annual check-ups. Inspired by her compassion, mission trip, and my passion for dentistry, my dream is to own a health clinic in a rural region of Haiti because half of the Haitian population has little to no access to dental care. My clinic will provide dental care and other facets of healthcare, like general, family, OBGYN, and mental healthcare to better serve this community. By building a community-relationship between my staff and patients, I hope to generate an environment of quality healthcare, compassion, and unity that my mother valued as a nurse. My first step as a community-oriented dentist was interning at the Southern Jersey Family Medical Center in Burlington, NJ, for my senior capstone project. As a student dental assistant, my job was to sanitize the dental rooms and instruments after each patient visit, and assist the dentist in certain procedures. On my first day at the clinic, a Haitian man who didn’t speak English came to get a filling. He was worried about being stuck with the needle used to numb his mouth, so I spoke with him in Creole to soothe his nerves so that the dentist could do the procedure on him. This is when I realized why representation in the healthcare field is so important; the stigma of healthcare generated in immigrant communities can be decreased with more representation of BIPOC immigrants. When patients see providers who are the same ethnicity as them, it increases their comfort level to seek treatment, thus decreasing health disparities in underserved communities. Though Black dentists are underrepresented in the dental field, I believe that our presence is extremely important because, through research, we can detect oral diseases that are shown differently on darker gums and other niches seen in darker skinned people that are mis-represented in dentistry. My soul is tied to Haiti because of the love that I have for my culture; the swirls on the tap tap. However, it is also tied because my parents engraved the motto on the Haitian flag into me since I was young; “l’union fait la force” or “unity makes strength”. My enslaved ancestors, who used this motto as they bled red for their freedom, would be crying in their graves from seeing their descendants fall to gang violence and disunity among our people. Though my goal of opening a healthcare clinic in Haiti is ambitious, I am fully prepared to fight for the return of l’union with the compassion that I was taught and the education that I hope to receive.

My soul came to me through the back of a tap-tap. It ran alongside that bloody red pickup truck, painted with the swirls of Caribbean sea blue, palm tree green, and sunshine yellow; colors I saw in the airplane above the island, but never up close. Once it caught up, it entered into me: a ten-year-old Haitian-American girl sitting on a wooden bench built into the tap-tap, nestling into my father’s chest. As my soul entered through my skin with the cool, night breeze, it formed a bond to Ayiti, cheri mwen: Haiti, my darling. I met my soul on the back of a tap-tap, but I developed it with my mother’s “emergency room horror stories” from her perspective as a nurse. One story was about an old lady who spat on my mother once, seeing her skin and hearing her accent. Yet, my mother wiped the spit off her face and continued to show compassion towards her. The same compassion was shown when she took a team of healthcare professionals every summer to provide the poor in Haiti with annual check-ups. Inspired by her compassion, mission trip, and my passion for dentistry, my dream is to own a health clinic in a rural region of Haiti because half of the Haitian population has little to no access to dental care. My clinic will provide dental care and other facets of healthcare, like general, family, OBGYN, and mental healthcare to better serve this community. By building a community-relationship between my staff and patients, I hope to generate an environment of quality healthcare, compassion, and unity that my mother valued as a nurse. My first step as a community-oriented dentist was volunteering at the Southern Jersey Family Medical Center in Burlington, NJ, for my senior capstone project. As a student dental assistant, my job was to sanitize the dental rooms after each patient visit, sanitize dental instruments, and assist the dentist in certain procedures. On my first day at the clinic, a Haitian man who didn’t speak English came to get a filling. He was worried about being stuck with the needle used to numb his mouth, so I spoke with him in Creole to soothe his nerves so that the dentist could do the procedure on him. This is when I realized why representation in the healthcare field is so important; the stigma of healthcare generated in immigrant communities can be decreased with more representation of BIPOC immigrants. When patients see providers who are the same ethnicity as them, it increases their comfort level to seek treatment, thus decreasing health disparities in underserved communities. Though Black dentists are underrepresented in the dental field, I believe that our presence is extremely important because, through research, we can detect oral diseases that are shown differently on darker gums and other niches seen in darker skinned people that are mis-represented in dentistry. My soul's purpose is to help my country, who has given me a culture and an identity to be proud of; the swirls on the tap tap. However, the bloody red of my soul derives from the call to action I have to bring back the motto on the Haitian flag, “l’union fait la force” or “unity makes strength”. My enslaved ancestors, who fought for their freedom with this motto, would be crying in their graves from seeing their descendants fall to corruption, gang violence and disunity among our people. Though my goal of opening a healthcare clinic in Haiti is ambitious, I yearn to see the soul and health of Haiti be returned to its people and flourish once again.

My soul came to me through the back of a tap-tap. It ran alongside that bloody red pickup truck, painted with the swirls of Caribbean sea blue, palm tree green, and sunshine yellow; colors I saw in the airplane above the island, but never up close. Once it caught up, it entered into me: a ten-year-old Haitian-American girl sitting on a wooden bench built into the tap-tap, nestling into my father’s chest. As my soul entered through my skin with the cool, night breeze, it formed a bond to Ayiti, cheri mwen: Haiti, my darling. I met my soul on the back of a tap-tap, but I developed it with my mother’s “emergency room horror stories” from her perspective as a nurse. One story was about an old lady who spat on my mother once, seeing her skin and hearing her accent. Yet, my mother wiped the spit off her face and continued to show compassion towards her. The same compassion was shown when she took a team of healthcare professionals every summer to provide the poor in Haiti with annual check-ups. Inspired by her compassion, mission trip, and my passion for dentistry, my dream is to own a health clinic in a rural region of Haiti because half of the Haitian population has little to no access to dental care. My clinic will provide dental care and other facets of healthcare, like general, family, OBGYN, and mental healthcare to better serve this community. By building a community-relationship between my staff and patients, I hope to generate an environment of quality healthcare, compassion, and unity that my mother valued as a nurse. My first step as a community-oriented dentist was interning at the Southern Jersey Family Medical Center in Burlington, NJ, for my senior capstone project. As a student dental assistant, my job was to sanitize the dental rooms after each patient visit, sanitize dental instruments, and assist the dentist in certain procedures. On my first day at the clinic, a Haitian man who didn’t speak English came to get a filling. He was worried about being stuck with the needle used to numb his mouth, so I spoke with him in Creole to soothe his nerves so that the dentist could do the procedure on him. This is when I realized why representation in the healthcare field is so important; the stigma of healthcare generated in immigrant communities can be decreased with more representation of BIPOC immigrants. When patients see providers who are the same ethnicity as them, it increases their comfort level to seek treatment, thus decreasing health disparities in underserved communities. Though Black dentists are underrepresented in the dental field, I believe that our presence is important because, through research, we can detect oral diseases that are shown differently on darker gums and other niches seen in darker skinned people that are mis-represented in dentistry. My soul is tied to Haiti because of the love that I have for my culture; the swirls on the tap tap. However, it is also tied because of the call to action I have to bring back the motto on the Haitian flag, “l’union fait la force” or “unity makes strength”. My enslaved ancestors, who fought for their freedom with this motto, would be crying in their graves from seeing their descendants fall to corruption, gang violence and disunity among our people. Though my goal of opening a healthcare clinic in Haiti is ambitious, I believe that my pre-dental and neurobiology studies at Boston University, passion for healthcare and my Haitian soul will bring the spirit of "l'union" back to Haiti.

On Martin Luther King Day, Sisterhood Inc., a food pantry and community outreach center in Burlington City, New Jersey, was bustling with volunteers. Our tiny school group, including one other student, Yutian, and our chaperone, Mr.Cook, maneuvered to the front desk to receive our tasks. While Yutian and Mr.Cook were assigned to unpack donated clothing, I was assigned to convert a mountain of books into a free reading corner. Delighted by my mission, I strategically arranged each book according to each genre. A senior volunteer, who had volunteered at Sisterhood for over 10 years, came to help me with my task. After a short while, we started talking and getting to know each other, discovering that we both shared the same love of comic books. Hours went by as we worked and chatted, and the messy stack of books soon turned into neat, orderly rows on the shelf. Once we were done, the volunteering day was ending and we were told to gather in the small chapel at the front of the building for closing remarks. The founder of Sisterhood, Reverend Hilda Covington, thanked us for volunteering on Martin Luther King Day. She shared that Dr.King’s dream and the purpose of Sisterhood aligned with this commonality; reaching out to the underserved and the underrepresented. However, she also said that Sisterhood’s creation is not just to serve the underserved people of Burlington City, though it is an integral part of their mission, but to more importantly connect with these people and understand that we all share the plights and joys of the human condition. Even though I didn’t know how big of an impact that Rev.Covington’s small speech was going to have on my life, I did know that serving at Sisterhood on that day gave me the satisfaction of helping others, even just from organizing books, creating a love for the people at Sisterhood. As Mr.Cook, Yutian, and I walked back to our school, Doane Academy, we started sharing our positive experience at Sisterhood, discussing a plan to get more students to volunteer at Sisterhood. The following year, as co-presidents of the student body, Yutian and I collaborated with the administration to create required in-service days, allowing students to choose from a list of local organizations, including Sisterhood, to volunteer at. The next Martin Luther King Day, fourteen Sisterhood volunteers organized clothing, food, and toys, and learned about the needs of Doane Academy’s surrounding community. Eventually, volunteering at Sisterhood invigorated me to volunteer in the other communities that I was a part of. For example, two times a month for five years, I have been volunteer teaching at my church, Levittown Church of God, as a primary school teacher, instilling children from ages 2-6 with lessons from the Bible. In addition, I have contributed as a face painter at Levittown’s annual Back-to-School Bash and Fall Festival, and a choreographer for our children’s choir. Between volunteering at Sisterhood and Levittown Church of God, I realized the impact in Rev. Covington’s message. As Christians, we are called by Jesus in John 13:34 to love one another as He loves us. This means that we don’t serve each other to satisfy our conscience, but we do it out of the dedication that we have for our Father and for His children in His image. For me, faith shapes my leadership because it gives me the opportunity to show love to the other members of my community, both old and new, while simultaneously showing my love to God.

“How can you understand what people are saying with their mouths wide open?” was a question that rose in my brain every six months when going to Hamilton Dental for my dentist appointment. I was bewildered yet intrigued by how the dental hygienists and dentists engaged in small talk with gaping patients, and responded comprehensively to the patterned “ahh-ing” of these patients, including myself. At first, I hypothesized that “Understanding Open-Mouthed Patients 101” was a course required in dental school to teach this skill, but this hypothesis was disproven this question at eight years old when I asked my dentist, Dr.Djeng, during one visit. He laughed, answering, “I think it developed over time as I kept seeing more and more patients.” This was the dental appointment that sparked my desire to go into dentistry. From observing baby teeth to examining a cell from my buccal mucosa under a microscope in biology class, a desire sparked within me to learn more about oral healthcare. However, as I got older, my curiosity in the dental field evolved into a call to action in dentistry to serve underserved communities. My dream someday as a Haitian American dentist is to start an oral health clinic in rural Haiti because half of the Haitian population has little to no access to dental care, which is even more detrimental in rural communities. My clinic will provide dental care and other facets of healthcare, like general, family, OBGYN, and mental healthcare, to better serve this community. By building a community relationship between my staff and patients, I hope to generate an environment of quality healthcare, compassion, and unity. My first step as a community-oriented dentist was interning at the Southern Jersey Family Medical Center in Burlington, NJ, for my senior capstone project. As a student dental assistant, my job was to sanitize dental rooms and instruments after each patient and aid the dentist in doing certain procedures, like fillings. On my first day at the clinic, a Haitian man who didn’t speak English came to get a filling. He was worried about being stuck with the needle used to numb his mouth, so I talked to him in Creole to soothe his nerves so that the dentist could do the procedure on him. This is when I realized why representation in healthcare is so important; the stigma of healthcare generated in immigrant communities can be decreased with more representation of BIPOC immigrants. When patients see providers who are the same ethnicity as them, it encourages them to seek treatment, thus decreasing health disparities in underserved communities. Though Black dentists only make up 3.8% of U.S dentists and Haitian-American dentists an even smaller percentage, our presence is important in this field because, through research, we can detect oral diseases and other oral niches that are shown differently on darker gums. The next step in my dental education is to study neurobiology at Boston University on a pre-dental track, studying and interning during the summers so that I can be a top applicant for their Modular Medical/Dental Integrated Curriculum and guarantee a spot in their dental school. Being raised in a Haitian-immigrant household, my parents taught me the importance of the motto imprinted on the Haitian flag: “l’union fait la force,” meaning “unity makes strength”. Unfortunately, with gang violence ravaging the nation, this motto is seemingly lost among my people. However, with my goal of building a clinic, I have an opportunity to bring this motto back by mentoring the next generation of Haitian doctors, dentists, and healthcare workers to serve their community and help our country thrive again.

“How can you understand what people are saying with their mouth wide open?” was a question that rose in my brain every six months when going to Hamilton Dental for my dentist appointment. I was bewildered yet intrigued by how the dental hygienists and dentists engaged in small talk with gaping patients, and responded comprehensively to the patterned “ahh-ing” of these patients, including myself. At first, I hypothesized that “Understanding Open-Mouthed Patients 101” was a course required in dental school to teach this skill, but was disproven this question at eight years old when I asked my dentist, Dr. Djeng, during one visit. He laughed, answering, “I think it developed over time as I kept seeing more and more patients.” This was the dental appointment that sparked my desire to go into dentistry. From observing baby teeth to examining a cell from my buccal mucosa under a microscope in biology class, a desire sparked within me to learn more about oral healthcare. However, as I got older, my curiosity in the dental field evolved into a call to action in dentistry to serve underserved communities. My dream someday as a Haitian American dentist is to start an oral health clinic in rural Haiti because half of the Haitian population has little to no access to dental care, which is even more detrimental in rural communities. My clinic will provide dental care and other facets of healthcare, like general, family, OBGYN, and mental healthcare to better serve this community. By building a community-relationship between my staff and patients, I hope to generate an environment of quality healthcare, compassion, and unity. My first step as a community-oriented dentist was interning at the Southern Jersey Family Medical Center in Burlington, NJ, for my senior capstone project. As a student dental assistant, my job was to sanitize dental rooms and instruments after each patient, and aid the dentist in doing certain procedures, like fillings. On my first day at the clinic, a Haitian man who didn’t speak English came to get a filling. He was worried about being stuck with the needle used to numb his mouth, so I talked to him in Creole to soothe his nerves so that the dentist could do the procedure on him. This is when I realized why representation in healthcare is so important; the stigma of healthcare generated in immigrant communities can be decreased with more representation of BIPOC immigrants. When patients see providers who are the same ethnicity as them, it encourages them to seek treatment, thus decreasing health disparities in underserved communities. Though Black dentists only make up 3.8% of U.S and Haitian-American dentists an even smaller percentage, our presence is important in this field because, through research, we can detect oral diseases and other oral niches that are shown differently on darker gums. The next step in my dental education is to study neurobiology at Boston University on a pre-dental track, studying and interning during the summers so that I can be a top applicant for their Modular Medical/Dental Integrated Curriculum and guaranteeing a spot in their dental school. Being raised in a Haitian-immigrant household, my parents taught me the importance of the motto imprinted on the Haitian flag: “l’union fait la force” meaning “unity makes strength”. Unfortunately, with gang violence ravaging the nation, this motto is seemingly lost among my people. However, with my goal of building a clinic, I have an opportunity to bring this motto back by mentoring the next generation of Haitian doctors, dentists, and healthcare workers to serve their community and help our country thrive again.

“How can you understand what people are saying with their mouths wide open?” was a question that rose in my brain every six months when going to Hamilton Dental for my dentist appointment. I was bewildered yet intrigued by how the dental hygienists and dentists engaged in small talk with gaping patients, and responded comprehensively to the patterned “ahh-ing” of these patients, including myself. At first, I hypothesized that “Understanding Open-Mouthed Patients 101” was a course required in dental school to teach this skill, but I disproved this question at eight years old when I asked my dentist, Dr. Djeng, during one visit. He laughed, answering, “I think it developed over time as I kept seeing more and more patients.” This was the dental appointment that sparked my interest in pursuing a career in dentistry. From observing baby teeth to examining a cell from my buccal mucosa under a microscope in biology class, a desire sparked within me to learn more about oral healthcare. However, as I got older, my curiosity in the dental field evolved into a call to action in dentistry to serve underserved communities. My dream someday, as a Haitian American dentist, is to start an oral health clinic in rural Haiti, because half of the Haitian population has little to no access to dental care, which is even more detrimental in rural communities. My clinic will provide dental care and other facets of healthcare, like general, family, OBGYN, and mental healthcare, to better serve this community. By building a community relationship between my staff and patients, I hope to generate an environment of quality healthcare, compassion, and unity. My first step as a community-oriented dentist was interning at the Southern Jersey Family Medical Center in Burlington, NJ, for my senior capstone project. As a student dental assistant, my job was to sanitize dental rooms and instruments after each patient and aid the dentist in doing certain procedures, like fillings. On my first day at the clinic, a Haitian man who didn’t speak English came to get a filling. He was worried about being stuck with the needle used to numb his mouth, so I talked to him in Creole to soothe his nerves so that the dentist could do the procedure on him. This is when I realized why representation in healthcare is so important; the stigma of healthcare generated in immigrant communities can be decreased with more representation of BIPOC immigrants. When patients see providers who are the same ethnicity as them, it encourages them to seek treatment, thus decreasing health disparities in underserved communities. Though Black dentists only make up 3.8% of U.S dentists and Haitian-American dentists an even smaller percentage, our presence is important in this field because, through research, we can detect oral diseases and other oral niches that are shown differently on darker gums. The next step in my dental education is to study neurobiology at Boston University on a pre-dental track, studying and interning during the summers, so that I can be admitted into their Modular Medical/Dental Integrated Curriculum, which would guarantee a spot in their dental school. Being raised in a Haitian-immigrant household, my parents taught me the importance of the motto imprinted on the Haitian flag: “l’union fait la force,” meaning “unity makes strength”. Unfortunately, with gang violence ravaging the nation, this motto is seemingly lost among my people. However, with my goal of building a clinic, I have an opportunity to bring this motto back by mentoring the next generation of Haitian doctors, dentists, and healthcare workers to serve their community and help our country thrive again.

“You did an excellent job, sweetie! Have a great day, and I’ll see you next week,” I say, waving and grinning at my student, who returns the gesture. After clicking the ‘End Meeting’ button at the right-hand corner of the Google Meet link, I slump back in my chair and heave a sigh. It is a sigh of exhaustion, but also of amazement and satisfaction. The amazement comes from the three years that have passed since this side hustle as a tutor began, evolving into the creation of a tutoring and mentoring program for elementary and middle school girls. The satisfaction arises from seeing the progress and growth of these girls—my girls, and how I enhanced my role as a leader by teaching them how to be the leaders of their education. We did engaging activities, like creating a bakery to learn about calculating change, and drawing Venn diagrams to compare and contrast the plots of the Brothers Grimm and Disney’s versions of Cinderella. These activities always ended in fits of giggles and a growth in confidence in their abilities. As their confidence as learners rose, so did their grades. Over the years, the weekly thirty-minute to one-hour tutoring sessions with these girls have given me the opportunity to know them for their unique personalities and skills, helping me better guide them. To maintain their privacy, I will not name them, but I will describe their shining qualities: there’s my little dancer, who is as dedicated to her schoolwork and faith in God as she is to the national competitions she competes and wins at. There’s my little actress, who was shy at first but became able to sing, act, and simplify fractions once her confidence grew. There’s my little scientist, inspired by the Marie Curie biography we read together to become a Woman in STEM. There’s my little comedian, who uses silly voices for her stuffed animals when stating the correct answer to a multiplication problem. Finally, there’s my little influencer, who applies the TikToks she’s seen to create figurative language in her writing. All of them have their respective struggles and challenges, like anxiety and ADHD, but as their tutor and mentor, it is my job to show them that who they are as people is not a hindrance but rather how they will rise above their obstacles. That particular meeting where I reflected on my three year journey as a tutor was an emotional one. Before we signed off, my student, the one who does dance, asked me, “Are you still going to do tutoring when you’re in college?” Without any hesitation, I said “Yes.” Although I am moving onto another chapter in my life, I cannot forget my girls who have shaped me to become that person going into that next chapter. To them, I was their older sister who has lead and taught them about how to do long division and stand up for themselves. To me, they are my little sisters, who have taught me how to be a leader and a good example for them. I have been so honored to watch these girls grow up into young ladies that I want to keep watching them grow up until they are brilliant and intelligent young women. And every time I reflect on that, like in that particular moment after the session or this essay, I cry a little bit because all of the amazement and the satisfaction of these three years is so unbelievable. Afterward, I dried my tears and texted my student’s mother her weekly summary about how incredible her daughter is.

When I woke up that morning, I faced an army of doctors and medical students gawking at me and jotting down notes like I was their science experiment. Then, I began to recollect the events from last night: collapsing from stomach pain, my mom driving me to the hospital after her 14-hour shift, the abnormal CAT scan, and being transferred in an ambulance to the Bristol-Myers Squibb Children's Hospital. Groggy after the memory haze, I suddenly sat up in shock as the doctor said, “You have Crohn’s Disease.” I was devastated and hungry to learn that for the next month, my nutrition would consist of no food or water, just the yellow TPN liquid flowing into the PICC line. To prioritize my health, I used this time of adversity for reflection. I created a daily routine of walking fourteen laps around the ward, working on college essays, and reading the Book of Psalms for encouragement. After being released, I joined the Bristol-Myers Squibb Children's Hospital Youth Advisory Council, empathizing with other patients who have had the same struggle. We meet once a month to plan hospital events and to make improvements to the teen patient lounge. With the Helping Hands Club at my school, I have even organized a holiday card drive that was given to adolescent patients spending the holidays in the hospital. With this experience, I learned that the lowest point in my life does not signify the end of life but rather calls you to be more involved through service in your life. My diagnosis has not limited me but rather invigorated me to continue my studies to become a community-oriented dentist. My time at the hospital reaffirmed my call to action into the oral healthcare field to serve underserved communities, where dental and oral clinics are inaccessible, causing the people in those communities to be more susceptible to tooth neglect. My dream someday as a Haitian American dentist is to start an oral health clinic in Haiti, where half of the population has little to no access to dental care, which is even more detrimental in rural communities. Afterwards, with a team of doctors and nurses, I plan to expand by building a healthcare clinic providing various healthcare services such as family, pediatrics, dentistry, and mental health services to Haitians in dire need of them. Though I am not in dental school yet, I have already gained dental experience as a senior in high school. For two weeks, I shadowed the Southern Jersey Medical Center’s dentistry department as a part of my school’s Senior Capstone Project, and helped sanitize rooms, instruments, and even assisted in fillings. On my first day at the clinic, a Haitian man who didn’t speak English came to get a filling. He was worried about the needle numbing his mouth, so I talked to him in Creole to soothe his nerves so that the dentist could do the procedure on him. This experience helped me realize why representation in the healthcare field is so important; when patients see providers who are the same ethnicity or identity as them, it increases their comfort level to seek treatment when they need it, thus decreasing health disparities in underserved communities. My goal of opening an oral healthcare clinic in Haiti is ambitious, especially with the current political climate and gang violence ravaging the nation, but if I could stay at a hospital for a month with no food or water, I am confident that I can conquer the challenges and periods of adversity that I have yet to face through my call to serve others.

My soul came to me through the back of a tap-tap. It ran alongside that bloody red pickup truck, painted with the swirls of Caribbean sea blue, palm tree green, and sunshine yellow; colors I saw in the airplane above the island, but never up close. Once it caught up, it entered into me: a ten-year-old Haitian-American girl sitting on a wooden bench built into the tap-tap, nestling into my father’s chest. As my soul entered through my skin with the cool, night breeze, it formed a bond to "Ayiti, cheri mwen": "Haiti, my darling". I met my soul on the back of a tap-tap, but I developed it with my mother’s “emergency room horror stories” from her perspective as a nurse. One story was about an old lady who spat on my mother once, seeing her skin and hearing her accent. Yet, my mother wiped the spit off her face and continued to show compassion towards her. The same compassion was shown when she took a team of healthcare professionals every summer to provide the poor in Haiti with annual check-ups. Inspired by her compassion, mission trip, and my passion for dentistry, my dream is to own a health clinic in a rural region of Haiti because half of the Haitian population has little to no access to dental care. My clinic will provide dental care and other facets of healthcare, like general, family, OBGYN, and mental healthcare to better serve this community. By building a community-relationship between my staff and patients, I hope to generate an environment of quality healthcare, compassion, and unity that my mother valued as a nurse. My first step as a community-oriented dentist was interning at the Southern Jersey Family Medical Center in Burlington, NJ, for my senior capstone project. As a student dental assistant, my job was to sanitize the dental rooms after each patient visit, sanitize dental instruments, and assist the dentist in certain procedures. On my first day at the clinic, a Haitian man who didn’t speak English came to get a filling. He was worried about being stuck with the needle used to numb his mouth, so I spoke with him in Creole to soothe his nerves so that the dentist could do the procedure on him. This is when I realized why representation in the healthcare field is so important; the stigma of healthcare generated in immigrant communities can be decreased with more representation of BIPOC immigrants. When patients see providers who are the same ethnicity as them, it increases their comfort level to seek treatment, thus decreasing health disparities in underserved communities. Though Black dentists are underrepresented in the dental field, I believe that our presence is extremely important because, through research, we can detect oral diseases that are shown differently on darker gums and other niches seen in darker skinned people that are mis-represented in dentistry. For me, being myself means being able to fully embrace my "Haitianess". My soul is tied to Haiti because of the love that I have for my culture; the swirls on the tap tap. However, it is also tied because of the call to action I have to bring back the motto on the Haitian flag, “l’union fait la force” or “unity makes strength”. My enslaved ancestors, who fought for their freedom with this motto, would be crying in their graves from seeing their descendants fall to corruption, gang violence and disunity among our people. Though my goal of opening a healthcare clinic in Haiti is ambitious, it is necessary to bring the soul of Haiti, l’union, back to its people.

When I woke that morning, I faced an army of doctors and medical students gawking at me and jotting down notes like I was their science experiment. Then, I began to recollect the events from last night: collapsing from stomach pain, my mom driving me to the hospital after her 14-hour shift, the abnormal CAT scan, and being transferred in an ambulance to the Bristol-Myers Squibb Children's Hospital. Groggy after the memory haze, I suddenly sat up in shock as the doctor said, “You have Crohn’s Disease.” I was devastated and hungry to learn that for the next month, my nutrition would consist of no food or water, just the yellow TPN liquid flowing into the PICC line. Needing to prioritize my health, I utilized this time of adversity for reflection. I created a daily routine of walking fourteen laps around the ward, working on college essays, and reading the Book of Psalms for encouragement. After being released, I joined the Bristol-Myers Squibb Children's Hospital Youth Advisory Council, empathizing with other patients who have had the same struggle. We meet once a month to plan hospital events and to make improvements to the teen patient lounge. With the Helping Hands Club at my school, I have even organized a holiday card drive that was given to adolescent patients spending the holidays in the hospital. With this experience, I learned that the lowest point in my life does not signify the end of life but rather calls you to be more involved through service in your life. My diagnosis has not limited me but rather invigorated me to continue my studies to become a community-oriented dentist. My time at the hospital reaffirmed my call to action into oral healthcare field to serve underserved communities, where dental and oral clinics are inaccessible, causing the people in those communities to be more susceptible to tooth neglect. My dream someday as a Haitian American dentist is to start an oral health clinic in Haiti where half of the population has little to no access to dental care, which is even more detrimental in rural communities. Afterwards, with a team of doctors and nurses, I plan to expand by building a healthcare clinic providing various healthcare services such as family, pediatrics, dentistry, and mental health services to Haitians in dire need of them. Though I am not in dental school yet, I have already gained dental experience as a senior in high school. For two weeks, I shadowed the Southern Jersey Medical Center’s dentistry department as apart of my school’s Senior Capstone Project, and helped sanitize rooms, instruments, and even assisted in fillings. On my first day at the clinic, a Haitian man who didn’t speak English came to get a filling. He was worried about the needle to numb his mouth, so I talked to him in Creole to soothe his nerves so that the dentist could do the procedure on him. This experience helped me realize why representation in the healthcare field is so important; when patients see providers who are the same ethnicity or identity as them, it increases their comfort level to seek treatment when they need it, thus decreasing health disparities in underserved communities. My goal of opening an oral healthcare clinic in Haiti is ambitious, especially with the current political climate and gang violence ravaging the nation, but if I could stay at a hospital for a month with no food or water, I am confident that I can conquer the challenges and periods of adversity that I have yet to face through my call to serve others.

On Martin Luther King Day, Sisterhood Inc., a food pantry and community outreach center in Burlington City, New Jersey, was bustling with volunteers. Our tiny school group, including one other student, Yutian, and our chaperone, Mr. Cook, maneuvered to the front desk to receive our tasks. While Yutian and Mr. Cook were assigned to unpack donated clothing, I was assigned to convert a mountain of books into a free reading corner. Delighted by my mission, I strategically arranged each book according to its genre. A senior volunteer, who had volunteered at Sisterhood for over 10 years, came to help me with my task. After a short while, we started talking and getting to know each other, discovering that we both shared the same love of comic books. Hours went by as we worked and chatted, and the messy stack of books soon turned into neat, orderly rows on the shelf. Once we were done, the volunteering day was ending, and we were told to gather in the small chapel at the front of the building for closing remarks. The founder of Sisterhood, Reverend Hilda Covington, thanked us for volunteering on Martin Luther King Day. She shared that Dr. King’s dream and the purpose of Sisterhood aligned with this commonality, reaching out to the underserved and the underrepresented. However, she also said that Sisterhood’s creation is not just to serve the underserved people of Burlington City, though it is an integral part of their mission, but to more importantly connect with these people and understand that we all share the plights and joys of the human condition. Even though I didn’t know how big of an impact that Rev. Covington’s small speech was going to have on my life, I did know that serving at Sisterhood on that day gave me the satisfaction of helping others, even just from organizing books, creating a love for the people at Sisterhood. As Mr. Cook, Yutian, and I walked back to our school, Doane Academy, we started sharing our positive experience at Sisterhood, discussing a plan to get more students to volunteer at Sisterhood. The following year, as co-presidents of the student body, Yutian and I collaborated with the administration to create required in-service days, allowing students to choose from a list of local organizations, including Sisterhood, to volunteer at. The next Martin Luther King Day, fourteen Sisterhood volunteers organized clothing, food, and toys, and learned about the needs of Doane Academy’s surrounding community. Eventually, volunteering at Sisterhood invigorated me to volunteer in the other communities that I was a part of. For example, two times a month for five years, I have been volunteering to teach at my church, Levittown Church of God, as a primary school teacher, instilling children from ages 2-6 with lessons from the Bible. In addition, I have contributed as a face painter at Levittown’s annual Back-to-School Bash and Fall Festival and as a choreographer for our children’s choir. Between volunteering at Sisterhood and Levittown Church of God, I realized the impact of Rev. Covington’s message. As Christians, we are called by Jesus in John 13:34 to love one another as He loves us. This means that we don’t serve each other to satisfy our conscience, but we do it out of the dedication that we have for our Father and His children in His image. For me, faith shapes my leadership because it allows me to show love to the other members of my community, both old and new, while simultaneously showing my love to God.

On Martin Luther King Day, Sisterhood Inc., a food pantry and community outreach center in Burlington City, New Jersey, was bustling with volunteers. Our tiny school group, including one other student, Yutian, and our chaperone, Mr. Cook, maneuvered to the front desk to receive our tasks. While Yutian and Mr. Cook were assigned to unpack donated clothing, I was assigned to convert a mountain of books into a free reading corner. Delighted by my mission, I strategically arranged each book according to its genre. A senior volunteer, who had volunteered at Sisterhood for over 10 years, came to help me with my task. After a short while, we started talking and getting to know each other, discovering that we both shared the same love of comic books. Hours went by as we worked and chatted, and the messy stack of books soon turned into neat, orderly rows on the shelf. Once we were done, the volunteering day was ending, and we were told to gather in the small chapel at the front of the building for closing remarks. The founder of Sisterhood, Reverend Hilda Covington, thanked us for volunteering on Martin Luther King Day. She shared that Dr. King’s dream and the purpose of Sisterhood aligned with this commonality, reaching out to the underserved and the underrepresented. However, she also said that Sisterhood’s creation is not just to serve the underserved people of Burlington City, though it is an integral part of their mission, but to more importantly connect with these people and understand that we all share the plights and joys of the human condition. Even though I didn’t know how big of an impact that Rev. Covington’s small speech was going to have on my life, I did know that serving at Sisterhood on that day gave me the satisfaction of helping others, even just from organizing books, creating a love for the people at Sisterhood. As Mr. Cook, Yutian, and I walked back to our school, Doane Academy, we started sharing our positive experience at Sisterhood, discussing a plan to get more students to volunteer at Sisterhood. The following year, as co-presidents of the student body, Yutian and I collaborated with the administration to create required in-service days, allowing students to choose from a list of local organizations, including Sisterhood, to volunteer at. The next Martin Luther King Day, fourteen Sisterhood volunteers organized clothing, food, and toys, and learned about the needs of Doane Academy’s surrounding community. Eventually, volunteering at Sisterhood invigorated me to volunteer in the other communities that I was a part of. For example, two times a month for five years, I have been volunteering to teach at my church, Levittown Church of God, as a primary school teacher, instilling children from ages 2-6 with lessons from the Bible. In addition, I have contributed as a face painter at Levittown’s annual Back-to-School Bash and Fall Festival and as a choreographer for our children’s choir. Between volunteering at Sisterhood and Levittown Church of God, I realized the impact of Rev. Covington’s message. As Christians, we are called by Jesus in John 13:34 to love one another as He loves us. This means that we don’t serve each other to satisfy our conscience, but we do it out of the dedication that we have for our Father and His children in His image. For me, this is why serving the communities that I’m a part of is important to me; it allows me to show love to the other members of it, both old and new, while simultaneously showing my love to God.

When I woke that morning, I faced an army of doctors and medical students gawking at me and jotting down notes like I was their science experiment. Then, I began to recollect the events from last night: collapsing from stomach pain, my mom driving me to the hospital after her 14-hour shift, the abnormal CAT scan, and being transferred in an ambulance to the Bristol-Myers Squibb Children's Hospital. Groggy after the memory haze, I suddenly sat up in shock as the doctor said, “You have Crohn’s Disease.” I was devastated and hungry to learn that for the next month, my nutrition would consist of no food or water, just the yellow TPN liquid flowing into the PICC line. Needing to prioritize my health, I utilized this time of adversity for reflection. I created a daily routine of walking fourteen laps around the ward, working on college essays, and reading the Book of Psalms for encouragement. After being released, I joined the Bristol-Myers Squibb Children's Hospital Youth Advisory Council, empathizing with other patients who have had the same struggle. We meet once a month to plan hospital events and to make improvements to the teen patient lounge. With the Helping Hands Club at my school, I have even organized a holiday card drive that was given to adolescent patients spending the holidays in the hospital. With this experience, I learned that the lowest point in my life does not signify the end of life but rather calls you to be more involved through service in your life. My diagnosis has not limited me but rather invigorated me to continue my studies to become a community-oriented dentist. My time at the hospital reaffirmed my call to action into oral healthcare field to serve underserved communities, where dental and oral clinics are inaccessible, causing the people in those communities to be more susceptible to tooth neglect. My dream someday as a Haitian American dentist is to start an oral health clinic in Haiti where half of the population has little to no access to dental care, which is even more detrimental in rural communities. Afterwards, with a team of doctors and nurses, I plan to expand by building a healthcare clinic providing various healthcare services such as family, pediatrics, dentistry, and mental health services to Haitians in dire need of them. Though I am not in dental school yet, I have already gained dental experience as a senior in high school. For two weeks, I shadowed the Southern Jersey Medical Center’s dentistry department as apart of my school’s Senior Capstone Project, and helped sanitize rooms, instruments, and even assisted in fillings. On my first day at the clinic, a Haitian man who didn’t speak English came to get a filling. He was worried about the needle to numb his mouth, so I talked to him in Creole to soothe his nerves so that the dentist could do the procedure on him. This experience helped me realize why representation in the healthcare field is so important; when patients see providers who are the same ethnicity or identity as them, it increases their comfort level to seek treatment when they need it, thus decreasing health disparities in underserved communities. My goal of opening an oral healthcare clinic in Haiti is ambitious, especially with the current political climate and gang violence ravaging the nation, but if I could stay at a hospital for a month with no food or water, I am confident that I can conquer the challenges and periods of adversity that I have yet to face through my call to serve others.

When I woke that morning, I faced an army of doctors and medical students gawking at me and jotting down notes like I was their science experiment. Then, I began to recollect the events from last night: collapsing from stomach pain, my mom driving me to the hospital after her 14-hour shift, the abnormal CAT scan, and being transferred in an ambulance to the Bristol-Myers Squibb Children's Hospital. Groggy after the memory haze, I suddenly sat up in shock as the doctor said, “You have Crohn’s Disease.” I was devastated and hungry to learn that for the next month, my nutrition would consist of no food or water, just the yellow TPN liquid flowing into the PICC line. Needing to prioritize my health, I utilized this time of adversity for reflection. I created a daily routine of walking fourteen laps around the ward, working on college essays, and reading the Book of Psalms for encouragement. After being released, I joined the Bristol-Myers Squibb Children's Hospital Youth Advisory Council, empathizing with other patients who have had the same struggle. We meet once a month to plan hospital events and to make improvements to the teen patient lounge. With the Helping Hands Club at my school, I have even organized a holiday card drive that was given to adolescent patients spending the holidays in the hospital. With this experience, I learned that the lowest point in my life does not signify the end of life but rather calls you to be more involved through service in your life. My diagnosis has not limited me but rather invigorated me to continue my studies to become a community-oriented dentist. My time at the hospital reaffirmed my call to action in the oral healthcare field to serve underserved communities, where dental and oral clinics are inaccessible, causing the people in those communities to be more susceptible to tooth neglect. My dream someday as a Haitian American dentist is to start an oral health clinic in Haiti, where half of the population has little to no access to dental care, which is even more detrimental in rural communities. Afterwards, with a team of doctors and nurses, I plan to expand by building a healthcare clinic providing various healthcare services such as family, pediatrics, dentistry, and mental health services to Haitians in dire need of them. Though I am not in dental school yet, I have already gained dental experience as a senior in high school. For two weeks, I shadowed the Southern Jersey Medical Center’s dentistry department as part of my school’s Senior Capstone Project, and helped sanitize rooms, instruments, and even assisted in fillings. On my first day at the clinic, a Haitian man who didn’t speak English came to get a filling. He was worried about the needle to numb his mouth, so I talked to him in Creole to soothe his nerves so that the dentist could do the procedure on him. This experience helped me realize why representation in the healthcare field is so important; when patients see providers who are the same ethnicity or identity as them, it increases their comfort level to seek treatment when they need it, thus decreasing health disparities in underserved communities. My goal of opening an oral healthcare clinic in Haiti is ambitious, especially with the current political climate and gang violence ravaging the nation, but if I could stay at a hospital for a month with no food or water, I am confident that I can conquer the challenges and periods of adversity that I have yet to face through my call to serve others.

“How can you understand what people are saying with their mouth wide open?” was a question that rose in my brain every six months when going to Hamilton Dental for my dentist appointment. I was bewildered yet intrigued by how the dental hygienists and dentists engaged in small talk with gaping patients, and responded comprehensively to the patterned “ahh-ing” of these patients, including myself. At first, I hypothesized that “Understanding Open-Mouthed Patients 101” was a course required in dental school to teach this skill, but was disproven this question at eight years old when I asked my dentist, Dr.Djeng, during one visit. He laughed, answering, “I think it developed over time as I kept seeing more and more patients.” This was the dental appointment that sparked my desire to go into dentistry. Per Dr.Djeng’s advice, I developed my interest in dentistry through practice. From observing baby teeth to examining a cell from my buccal mucosa under a microscope in biology class, my desire to learn caused me to go down a rabbit hole in exploration to learn more about oral healthcare. However, as I got older, my curiosity in the dental field evolved into a call to action in dentistry to serve underserved communities. My dream someday as a Haitian American dentist is to start an oral health clinic in rural Haiti because half of the Haitian population has little to no access to dental care, which is even more detrimental in rural communities. Afterwards, with a team of doctors and nurses, we can expand into building a healthcare clinic providing various healthcare services such as family, pediatrics, dentistry, and mental health services to Haitians in dire need of them. My first step as a community-oriented dentist was interning at the Southern Jersey Family Medical Center in Burlington, NJ, for my senior capstone project. As a student dental assistant, my job was to sanitize the dental rooms after each patient visit, sanitize dental instruments, and aid the dentist while doing certain procedures, like fillings. On my first day at the clinic, a Haitian man who didn’t speak English came to get a filling. He was worried about being stuck with the needle used to numb his mouth, so I talked to him in Creole to soothe his nerves so that the dentist could do the procedure on him. This is when I realized why representation in the healthcare field is so important; the stigma and fear of healthcare generated in immigrant communities can be decreased with more representation of BIPOC immigrants. When patients see providers who are the same ethnicity as them, it increases their comfort level to seek treatment when they need it, thus decreasing health disparities in underserved communities. Though Black dentists, especially the Haitian ones that I aspire to be, are underrepresented in the dental field, I believe that this can positively affect my career goals because it means that I can inspire other Haitians and Haitian Americans to pursue dental and oral healthcare professions. As a newly admitted Boston University student, I am pursuing a major in neurobiology to study the intricate wirings of the nervous system and a pre-dental track to further understand the nerve endings of the teeth. I plan to shadow more dentists in the Longwood Medical District in Boston and volunteer at more clinics that focus on the oral healthcare of immigrants. Even though I have years of schooling ahead of me, my passion for a STEM education and goal to build an oral healthcare clinic motivates me to conquer all of the work and trials to bring justice to my people.

“How can you understand what people are saying with their mouth wide open?” was a question that rose in my brain every six months when going to Hamilton Dental for my dentist appointment. I was bewildered yet intrigued by how the dental hygienists and dentists engaged in small talk with gaping patients, and responded comprehensively to the patterned “ahh-ing” of these patients, including myself. At first, I hypothesized that “Understanding Open-Mouthed Patients 101” was a course required in dental school to teach this skill, but was disproven this question at eight years old when I asked my dentist, Dr.Djeng, during one visit. He laughed, answering, “I think it developed over time as I kept seeing more and more patients.” This was the dental appointment that sparked my desire to go into dentistry. As per Dr.Djeng’s advice, I developed my interest in dentistry through practice. From observing baby teeth to examining a cell from my buccal mucosa cells under a microscope in biology class, my desire to learn caused me to go down a rabbit hole in exploration to learn more about oral healthcare. However, as I got older, my curiosity in the dental field evolved to a call to action in dentistry to serve underserved communities. My dream someday as a Haitian American dentist is to start an oral health clinic in rural Haiti because half of the Haitian population has little to no access to dental care, which is even more detrimental in rural communities. Afterwards, with a team of doctors and nurses, we can expand into building a healthcare clinic providing various healthcare services such as family, pediatrics, dentistry, and mental health services to Haitians in dire need of them. My first step as a community-oriented dentist was interning at the Southern Jersey Family Medical Center in Burlington, NJ, for my senior capstone project. As a student dental assistant, my job was to sanitize the dental rooms after each patient visit, sanitize dental instruments, and aid the dentist while doing certain procedures, like fillings. On my first day at the clinic, a Haitian man who didn’t speak English came to get a filling. He was worried about being stuck with the needle used to numb his mouth, so I talked to him in Creole to soothe his nerves so that the dentist could do the procedure on him. This is when I realized why representation in the healthcare field is so important; the stigma and fear of healthcare generated in immigrant communities can be decreased with more representation of BIPOC immigrants. When patients see providers who are the same ethnicity as them, it increases their comfort level to seek treatment when they need it, thus decreasing health disparities in underserved communities. Though Black dentists, especially the Haitian ones, are underrepresented in the dental field, I believe that this can positively affect my career goals because it means that I can inspire other Haitians and Haitian Americans to pursue dental and oral healthcare professions. The SigaLa Education scholarship will help me financially because, as an admitted student at Boston University, I want to be able to fund my undergraduate studies with as few loans as possible and avoid going into debt. I chose BU because its spirit of curiosity, combined with civil engagement are similar to my own goals as a dentist and includes many opportunities to intern with some of the best dentists in the country. This scholarship is just one necessary step closer to being a Haitian American dentist giving back to her community.

My soul came to me through the back of a tap tap. It ran alongside the bloody red pickup truck painted with the swirls of Caribbean sea blue, palm tree green, and sunshine yellow; colors I saw in the airplane above the island, but never up close. Once it caught up, it waited for the right moment to slip into the cracks of the roof that shielded the bed of the truck, and entered into me; a ten-year-old Haitian girl born in America sitting on a wooden bench built into the tap-tap, nestling into my father’s chest. I was unsure of what I felt at the time, but I knew a change happened within myself. As my soul entered through my skin with the cool, night breeze, it formed a bond to Ayiti, cheri mwen: Haiti, my darling. My home. I met my soul on the back of a tap tap, but I understood it on the front seat of my dad’s blue, 2007 Toyota Corolla. On the radio, every afternoon on the drive home from school, my dad played Blaize One and BIC Ti zon Dife, Haitian rappers that rhymed about the creation of corruption, gang violence, and poverty that Haiti was globally known for. My dad would then turn down the music and start our one-on-one Haitian history class. The lessons spanned from the victory of our ancestors in the Haitian Revolution to the effects of the Duvalier Regime and how the TonTon Macoute, the secret police force turned into the gangsters that terrorize Haiti today. I met my soul on the back of a tap tap, but I developed it with my mother’s “emergency room horror stories” from her perspective as a nurse. One story was about an old lady who spit on my mother once seeing her skin and hearing her accent. Yet, my mother wiped the spit off her face and continued to show compassion towards her. The same compassion that she showed Haitian children in poverty when she took a team of healthcare professionals every summer to provide them with annual check ups. Inspired by her compassion, mission trip and my passion for dentistry, my dream is to own an oral health clinic in a rural region of Haiti to provide dental care for Haitians who have difficulty accessing it. Ever since I met my soul on that tap tap, watching the rise of famed police officer-turned-gang leader Barbecue, gang violence, and kidnappings in Haiti from the comforts from the United States, makes my heart grieve with survivor’s guilt for my relatives and other Haitians falling as victims. Although I traveled to Haiti only once, I am connected to its travesties as a child of Haitian immigrants, a Creole speaker, and a griotic poet who understands the Haitian motto “l’union fait la force” or “unity makes strength,” I decided to take action by writing and performing a slam poem titled “The Mourning of the Land” at the New Jersey Poetry Ourselves slam poetry competition and the Collingswood Book Festival. Through “The Mourning of the Land" I have taught diverse audiences, Haitian or not, about Haitian history and the evils of gang violence, just as my parents taught me. My Haitian soul drives me to academic excellence as I continue my education to become a dentist and own a dental practice in Haiti, and motivates me to join a Caribbean Student organization in college and continue my poetry to share my soul with others.

When I woke that morning, I faced an army of doctors and medical students gawking at me and jotting down notes like I was their science experiment. Then, I began to recollect the events from last night; collapsing from stomach pain, my mom driving me to the hospital after her 14-hour shift, the abnormal CAT scan, and being transferred in an ambulance to the Bristol-Myers Squibb Children's Hospital. Groggy after the memory haze, I suddenly sat up in shock as the doctor said, “You have Crohn’s Disease.” I was devastated and hungry to learn that for the next few weeks, my nutrition would consist of no food or water, just the chicken-scented, yellow TPN liquid flowing into the PICC line. Needing to prioritize my health, I utilized this time of adversity for reflection. I created a daily routine of walking fourteen laps around the ward and reading the Book of Psalms to find peace and encouragement. After being released, I joined the Bristol-Myers Squibb Children's Hospital Youth Advisory Council, empathizing with other patients who have had the same struggle. We meet once a month to plan hospital events and to make improvements to the teen patient lounge. With the Helping Hands Club at my school, I have even organized a holiday card drive that were given to adolescent patients that spending the holidays in the hospital. Though this obstacle caused me to miss the first two weeks of my senior year in high school, I learned that the lowest point in my life does not signify the end of life because there is no where to go but up towards improvement. My diagnosis has not limited me but rather invigorated me to continue my studies to become a pediatric dentist. While my time in the hospital invigorated me to continue my interest in dentistry, it was the negative connotations associated with dentistry that led me to pursue the field in the first place. I learned that neglected oral care leads to calculus buildup, cavities, tooth infection, and in the most severe cases, death when spread throughout the rest of the body. Resulting from my passion, I felt a call to action into dentistry to serve underserved communities, where dental and oral clinics are inaccessible causing the people in those communities to be more susceptible to tooth neglect. My dream someday as a Haitian American dentist is to start an oral health clinic in rural Haiti because half of the Haitian population has little to no access to dental care, which is even more detrimental in the rural communities. Afterwards with a team of doctors and nurses, we can expand with building a healthcare clinic providing various healthcare services such as family, pediatrics, dentistry, and mental health services to Haitians in dire need of them. However as a senior in high school, my first start is to intern at the Southern Jersey Medical Center’s dentistry department as apart of my school’s Senior Capstone Project, and help local immigrants, including the undocumented, receive access to healthcare. Although my goal of opening an oral healthcare clinic in Haiti is ambitious, especially with the current political climate and gang violence ravaging the nation, I know that they are attainable because of my faith in God and determination that I have to overcome the challenges that I come across. From learning how to cope with my Crohn’s Disease to my parents teaching me how Haitian slaves defeated the French and founded our country, I learned that perseverance is in my veins and will help me achieve my goal owning a Haitian clinic in the future.