I am a student from Alexandria, Virginia, deeply connected to my Ethiopian heritage, and committed to learning, leadership, and service. Academically, I thrive in challenging coursework, maintaining a 4.2 GPA while taking rigorous classes such as IB Biology, IB Chemistry, IB Psychology, and IB Math Applications, as well as dual enrollment courses. Science has always fascinated me, particularly how it can be applied to improve health and quality of life. My interest in dermatology grew from personal experience with skin and hair concerns, where curiosity and experimentation transformed insecurity into purpose. This experience taught me patience, observation, and problem-solving—skills I now apply to both academics and service. Beyond the classroom, I am actively involved in my school and community. I co-founded Hope for Hiyewetoch, a nonprofit supporting orphanages in Ethiopia by providing food, hygiene kits, and school supplies. Over the past two years, I have organized fundraisers, conducted outreach, and coordinated logistics to deliver over 70 kits to children in need. Through this work, I have seen firsthand how collective effort and consistent dedication can create meaningful change. I am also a member of the National Honor Society and Student Government, where I help plan events and promote school spirit. As a leader in the Black Student Union and the Ethiopian and Eritrean Association, I work to foster inclusivity, cultural pride, and representation within my school. Outside of school, I volunteer at my Ethiopian Orthodox church, teaching younger children in Sunday school, and I have contributed hundreds of hours as a server at Erickson Senior Living, forming meaningful connections with residents and supporting coworkers under pressure. These experiences have strengthened my empathy, communication skills, and ability to adapt in complex, human-centered environments. After high school, I plan to pursue a pre-med track, with a focus on public health and dermatology. I hope to combine scientific knowledge with community service, providing medical care and education to underserved populations. I am particularly motivated by the idea that healthcare is not only about treatment, but about empowerment, prevention, and fostering self-confidence in patients of all ages. If I could start my own charity, its mission would be to promote health, education, and confidence for children and teenagers in underserved communities, both locally and abroad. The organization, which I would name Bright Futures, would focus on three areas: providing essential healthcare and hygiene resources, educational support and mentorship, and workshops on self-care and wellness. Volunteers would perform tasks such as organizing supply drives, tutoring students, leading workshops, and providing guidance and mentorship to help young people develop both academic and personal skills. By addressing both physical and emotional well-being, Bright Futures would empower children to reach their full potential and create long-term impact for communities in need. Through my studies, service, and future charitable work, I hope to combine science, empathy, and leadership to make a tangible difference. I am driven by the belief that small, consistent efforts, rooted in care and collaboration, can ripple outward to transform lives and strengthen communities worldwide.

I am shaped by the intersection of culture, challenge, and service. As the daughter of Ethiopian immigrants who lived through the Red Terror, I was raised with a deep sense of resilience, faith, and responsibility. Their experiences instilled in me the importance of perseverance and giving back, values that have guided how I approach both my goals and my community. Growing up, I also faced personal challenges that shaped my confidence and curiosity. Struggling with my skin and hair from a young age, I often felt defined by insecurities I did not understand. Over time, that insecurity turned into inquiry. I began researching, experimenting, and learning the science behind dermatology and self care. What started as a personal struggle became a passion for understanding how science can be used to help people feel confident and comfortable in their own skin. This experience continues to drive my interest in pursuing a career in medicine, specifically dermatology. My commitment to service is a central part of who I am. Two years ago, I co founded Hope for Hiyewetoch, a nonprofit organization supporting orphanages in Ethiopia. After learning that four out of ten children in Ethiopia suffer from stunting due to malnutrition, I felt compelled to act. Through organizing fundraisers and outreach efforts, I helped raise over $3,000 to provide food, hygiene kits, and school supplies. While the scale of our work was small, the impact was meaningful. This experience taught me that leadership is not about recognition, but about initiative, persistence, and the ability to bring people together for a shared purpose. Beyond organized service, I have also taken on leadership roles in everyday moments. When a new student from Ethiopia arrived at my school and was placed in lower level classes despite her abilities, I advocated for her by working with her counselor and helping her adjust academically. Over time, she gained confidence and advanced. That experience showed me the power of advocacy and mentorship, and reinforced my belief that leadership often means standing up for others when they cannot yet do so for themselves. I have also developed leadership skills through my work at a senior living community, where I assist residents, including those with dementia, in a fast paced environment. Supporting both residents and coworkers taught me patience, empathy, and how to remain composed under pressure. I learned that leadership is not about authority, but about supporting others and creating a sense of stability and trust. I plan to pursue a degree in public health on a pre med track, which will provide me with both the scientific foundation and broader perspective needed to address health disparities. Through this program, I will gain knowledge in biology, chemistry, and health systems, while also exploring how social, economic, and cultural factors influence access to care. This holistic understanding is essential to achieving my goal of becoming a dermatologist who not only treats patients, but also addresses the underlying factors that affect their health. In the future, I hope to use my education to create lasting impact by combining clinical practice with community based service. I want to work with underserved populations, providing accessible care while also educating individuals about prevention and long term wellness. Additionally, I hope to expand initiatives like Hope for Hiyewetoch, continuing to support communities both locally and globally. Ultimately, my goal is to use my education not just for personal success, but as a tool to uplift others. By combining science, empathy, and service, I aim to create meaningful change, empowering individuals and strengthening communities for the long term.

My passion for STEM comes from a desire to understand and solve real problems that directly impact people’s lives. I have always been drawn to science because it goes beyond memorization. It encourages curiosity, critical thinking, and problem solving. STEM is not just about finding answers, but about asking the right questions and using evidence to create meaningful change. This interest became personal through my own experiences with my skin and hair. What began as insecurity gradually turned into curiosity. Instead of simply trying to cover my concerns, I started researching ingredients, testing different routines, and observing results. I treated the process like a series of experiments, learning through trial and error. Over time, I began to understand how different products and treatments worked, and more importantly, why they worked. That shift from frustration to understanding showed me how powerful science can be when applied to everyday life. My passion for STEM also grew through my involvement in community service. While co founding Hope for Hiyewetoch, an organization supporting children in Ethiopia, I was exposed to the realities of malnutrition and limited access to healthcare. I learned that issues like stunting are not isolated problems, but are connected to broader systems involving biology, nutrition, economics, and public health policy. This realization pushed me to think more deeply about how science can be used to address not just symptoms, but root causes. STEM gave me a framework to understand these challenges and consider long term, sustainable solutions. In the classroom, I have pursued rigorous coursework in subjects like biology, chemistry, and math, where I have developed strong analytical and problem solving skills. I enjoy the challenge of complex material and the process of breaking down difficult concepts into understandable parts. STEM has taught me patience, resilience, and how to approach problems methodically. It has also shown me that failure is not the end, but an important step in learning and growth. I am particularly passionate about pursuing STEM through a pre med pathway, with the goal of becoming a dermatologist. While dermatology is often viewed as cosmetic, I see it as deeply connected to confidence, identity, and overall well being. My own experiences have shown me how much physical conditions can affect a person’s self perception. Through a career in medicine, I hope to combine scientific knowledge with empathy, helping patients not only heal physically but also feel confident in themselves. Ultimately, STEM represents an opportunity to turn curiosity into action. It allows me to take what I learn and apply it in ways that make a tangible difference. Whether through research, healthcare, or community based initiatives, I want to use STEM as a tool to improve lives. My passion comes from knowing that science is not just about discovery, but about impact, and I am committed to using it to create positive change in the world.

She walked into class clutching her notebook, new from Ethiopia and unsure where to sit. I recognized her fear, so I greeted her in Amharic and invited her to sit beside me. As we talked, she shared that she had been placed in lower level classes despite strong academic ability, repeating material she had already learned. At that moment, I saw how systems meant to support students can sometimes misunderstand them. I had never personally navigated an IEP or 504 plan, but through her experience, I began to understand how important it is to advocate for the support you truly need. I could have stayed quiet, assuming the system knew best, but I chose to act. I walked with her to speak to her counselor, helping her explain her situation. After continued conversations, she was given the opportunity to retake the WIDA assessment and advanced in English. Beyond that, I spent time helping her adjust, reviewing material and building her confidence until she began to speak up for herself. That experience was a turning point for me. It showed me that advocacy is not always instinctive, it is learned through courage, persistence, and care. I realized one of my strengths is communication, especially bridging gaps for others who may not yet feel confident doing so themselves. It also helped me recognize my passion for supporting others in environments where they may feel overlooked or misunderstood. Looking back, I also reflect on moments when I could have advocated more for myself. There were times I stayed silent, unsure if my voice was necessary or valid. Seeing the impact of speaking up for someone else made me realize that my voice holds value, too. Advocacy is not just about helping others, but also about recognizing when you deserve support and clarity. This experience has shaped both my learning style and future goals. I thrive in environments where I can ask questions, seek understanding, and collaborate with others. It has also influenced my interest in healthcare, where patient advocacy is essential. I want to ensure that individuals are not only treated, but also heard and understood, especially when language, background, or circumstance creates barriers. As I move forward, I plan to continue honoring my strengths by using my voice with intention. Whether advocating for myself or others, I will approach challenges with persistence and empathy. I hope to create spaces where people feel empowered to speak up, knowing their needs matter. By doing so, I will continue growing into someone who not only succeeds, but helps others do the same.

Rooted in faith, love, and community, my identity has always been shaped by service. Growing up in the Ethiopian Orthodox Church, I learned that love is not just something you feel, but something you actively show. Whether it was teaching younger children in Sunday school, singing in the choir, or volunteering alongside my family, I saw how small, consistent acts of care could bring people together. Those early experiences built my understanding of what it means to serve others with intention. That foundation led me to co found Hope for Hiyewetoch, a nonprofit supporting orphanages in Ethiopia. After learning that four out of ten children in Ethiopia suffer from stunting due to malnutrition, I felt a responsibility to act. Over the past two years, I have helped organize fundraisers and outreach efforts, connecting with local churches and community members to raise awareness and support. Through these efforts, we raised over $3,000 and provided food, hygiene kits, and school supplies to children in need. While the scale of our work was modest, the impact was meaningful. It showed me that service rooted in love can reach far beyond what we initially imagine. My commitment to community also extends into my everyday life. When a new student arrived from Ethiopia, unsure and out of place, I recognized her fear. Speaking to her in Amharic, I learned she had been placed in lower level classes despite her abilities. Guided by a sense of responsibility, I advocated for her by speaking with her counselor and helping her navigate the system. Over time, she advanced academically and grew more confident. That experience taught me that service is not always large or visible. Sometimes, it is quiet advocacy and standing beside someone until they find their voice. Faith has also shaped how I approach challenges and leadership. Working at a senior living community, I interact daily with residents, including those with dementia who may feel confused or frustrated. In fast paced and stressful moments, I learned to lead with patience, offering reassurance and understanding. When coworkers struggled, I stepped in to guide them, helping them stay calm and organized. This experience showed me that leadership through love means supporting others, especially when they need it most. In the future, I plan to pursue a career in healthcare, where I can combine compassion with knowledge to serve others on a deeper level. I am particularly interested in dermatology, not only because of its scientific aspects, but because of its connection to confidence and identity. I want to help individuals feel comfortable in their own skin while also addressing broader health disparities that affect underserved communities. Through community based initiatives, education, and patient care, I hope to uplift others and provide both healing and understanding. The principles of faith, love, and service will continue to guide me as I move forward. I believe that making a positive impact is not about one defining moment, but about a lifetime of consistent actions rooted in care for others. Whether through global outreach, local advocacy, or everyday interactions, I am committed to pouring into the lives of others. By doing so, I hope to create spaces where people feel valued, supported, and empowered to succeed.

Four of ten children in Ethiopia suffer from stunting due to severe malnutrition, forty percent. Learning this did not just inform me, it changed me. It pushed me to look beyond statistics and see people, children whose futures are shaped by circumstances beyond their control. That realization is what drives how I hope to impact others through my future education. Founding Hope for Hiyewetoch showed me that making a difference begins with intention but grows through action. By raising funds and sending food and hygiene kits to children in Ethiopia, I was able to meet immediate needs. However, what impacted me most was not just what I gave, but what I learned. I saw how access, education, and awareness all play a role in someone’s well being. This understanding is what I plan to carry forward. Through my education, I plan to pursue public health on a pre med track, with the goal of becoming a dermatologist. While dermatology is often seen as cosmetic, I view it as deeply connected to confidence, identity, and quality of life. I want to pour into the lives of others by helping them feel comfortable in their own skin, especially those who, like me, have experienced insecurity tied to conditions they did not understand. I plan to make a direct impact by working with underserved communities, providing both care and education. I want to create spaces where patients, especially young people, feel seen, heard, and informed about their health. Beyond treatment, I hope to teach individuals how to care for themselves, helping them build confidence and long term wellness. Education, in my eyes, is one of the most powerful ways to help others succeed because it equips people with knowledge they can carry for life. In college and beyond, I will continue community based service by expanding initiatives like Hope for Hiyewetoch and participating in outreach programs that address health disparities. I want to collaborate with others to create sustainable solutions, whether through clinics, nonprofit work, or global health efforts. By combining science with service, I will be able to approach problems not only with skill, but with empathy. Maya Angelou’s words, “Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better,” continue to guide me. As I gain knowledge, I will use it intentionally to uplift others, ensuring that my education is not just for personal success, but for the success and well being of the communities I serve.

Four of ten children in Ethiopia suffer from stunting due to severe malnutrition, forty percent. Learning this sparked a strong urge in me to act. My parents came of age during the Red Terror era, a dark chapter in Ethiopian history marked by violence and loss. The impact of that time shaped them deeply, and in turn shaped me. Being raised by them connected me closely to my heritage, values, and faith. Through visits to Ethiopia, I witnessed both the richness of my culture and the hardships many children endure. I often wondered what if my parents had not immigrated, where would I be? That question led me to take action in my community. Two years ago, I founded Hope for Hiyewetoch, Amharic for “Hope for Lives.” What began as a small idea grew into a community driven effort. I reached out to local churches and organizations, faced setbacks in planning and fundraising, and learned how to navigate challenges through persistence and adaptability. Despite obstacles, we raised over $3,000 and used those funds to assemble and send food and hygiene kits to children in need. While the scale of our work was modest, the impact was meaningful. It showed me that consistent, collective effort can create real change and strengthened my commitment to service. This experience also pushed me to think beyond immediate aid. I began asking deeper questions about why these disparities exist and what systems contribute to them. That curiosity has shaped my future goals. In college, I plan to study public health on a pre-med track, where I can explore health through science, policy, and social context. I hope to engage in service organizations, partner with local communities, and continue initiatives like Hope for Hiyewetoch while expanding their reach. I also want to participate in research and community based programs that address health inequities both locally and globally. Beyond college, I aspire to become a dermatologist who not only treats patients but also advocates for accessible and equitable healthcare. I want to combine my background in service with my scientific education to address both the symptoms and root causes of health disparities. Whether through medical practice, outreach programs, or nonprofit work, I plan to continue serving underserved communities and promoting long term well being. Maya Angelou’s words, “Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better,” continue to guide me. As I grow in knowledge and experience, I will keep building on the foundation of service I have already started, working toward a future where all communities have the resources and care they deserve.

My mirror has always been loud. Not with sound, but with things I could not scrub away: bald patches, scars, flakes clinging to my curls. Every morning before preschool, I stood in front of it, thumb in my mouth, nervously playing with my single braid. One afternoon, that braid came undone, exposing a large patch where it had been. Panicked, my parents shaved my head. When my hair grew back, it came in tighter, kinkier, and less manageable than before. In elementary school, two accidents left permanent scars across my forehead. Classmates laughed, and soon it became my label, the “big East African forehead.” On a fourth grade beach trip, I frantically rubbed my scalp, convinced sand would not wash out. White flakes kept falling, covering my shirt. Not sand, but dandruff. With every flake came a quiet, growing shame. Instead of confronting it, I drowned it out with noise. The TV blaring, headphones on full volume, constant chatter. It did not take long for slicked-back buns and layers of foundation to become my armor. Concealing became a ritual. My scalp ached from tight hairstyles, my skin irritated from layers of products. It felt like a performance, one I maintained to avoid the quiet questions my reflection asked. At family gatherings, comparisons made it worse. My curls were called “tough” while others were praised as “soft.” I remember pressing my head into the couch before photos, trying to flatten what I could not change. Then everything went silent. When COVID began in seventh grade, the noise disappeared. No crowded hallways, no distractions, no escape. Just me and my reflection. For the first time, I could not hide behind routines or appearances. I realized I did not just want to cover my insecurities, I wanted to understand them. So I started experimenting. Late nights in quarantine became my lab. Oils, creams, and cleansers covered the counter like test tubes. I tested routines, observed results, and tried again. Some days brought flakes, others irritation, but I kept going. I learned patience through trial and error, discipline through consistency, and confidence through understanding. For the first time, I was not performing for others. I was learning for myself. This journey became my greatest personal achievement. Not because I “fixed” my hair or skin, but because I transformed how I saw myself. What once felt like flaws became sources of curiosity and growth. Silence, once something I feared, became a space where I could reflect, learn, and rebuild my confidence from within. Today, I braid protective styles with skill and intention. I have built routines that work for me, and I share what I have learned with friends who face similar insecurities. More importantly, I no longer see my reflection as something to hide from. I see resilience, patience, and progress. This experience has shaped both who I am and who I hope to become. It sparked my passion for dermatology, where I can combine science and empathy to help others navigate their own insecurities. I want to give people what I once needed, not just solutions, but understanding. My mirror is no longer loud with criticism. Instead, it reflects growth. And that is the achievement I am most proud of.

Four of ten children in Ethiopia suffer from stunting due to severe malnutrition, forty percent. Learning this sparked a strong urge in me to act. My parents came of age during the Red Terror era, a dark chapter in Ethiopian history marked by violence and loss. The impact of that time shaped them deeply, and in turn shaped me. Being raised by them connected me closely to my heritage, values, and faith. Through visits to Ethiopia, I witnessed both the richness of my culture and the hardships many children endure. I often wondered what if my parents had not immigrated, where would I be? Two years ago, I turned that question into action by founding Hope for Hiyewetoch, Amharic for “Hope for Lives.” What began as a small idea grew into a community driven effort. I reached out to local churches and organizations, faced setbacks in planning and fundraising, and learned how to navigate challenges through persistence and adaptability. Despite obstacles, we raised over $3,000 and used those funds to assemble and send food and hygiene kits to children in need. While the scale of our work was modest, the impact was meaningful. Seeing how a relatively small amount could directly support children in need reinforced my belief that change is often the result of consistent, collective effort rather than a single large action. This experience also expanded my perspective. Initially, I focused on providing immediate aid, but over time I began to question the deeper causes of these conditions. Why do such disparities persist? What systems contribute to limited access to nutrition and healthcare? These questions pushed me to look beyond surface level solutions and think more critically about long term impact. I realized that meaningful change requires not only compassion, but also understanding of history, policy, and the social structures that shape people’s lives. Maya Angelou’s words, “Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better,” continue to guide me. In the future, I plan to combine service with education and advocacy by pursuing public health. I hope to address both immediate needs and their root causes through research and community based initiatives. As I grow in knowledge, I will continue to act with intention, creating sustainable solutions, empowering communities, and improving access to essential health resources. I am committed to expanding my impact by collaborating with others who share a passion for equity and service. Through these efforts, I hope to contribute to a future where all children have the opportunity to live healthy and dignified lives.

My mirror has always been loud. Not with sound, rather things I couldn’t scrub away- bald patches, scars, flakes clinging to my curls. Every morning going to preschool I’d do the same thing; thumb in mouth, nervously playing with my one braid. One afternoon, my braid came undone leaving my hands strangely bare and exposing a large patch where it had been. Panicked, my parents shaved my head and when it grew back, the coils twisted tighter, kinkier and less compliant than before. Then it was elementary, two accidents left forever marks streaked down my forehead. Laughter from classmates echoed through the halls, and before I knew it, it became my label, the "big East African forehead". Fourth grade, a day trip to the beach saw me frantically rubbing at my scalp, convinced the sand wouldn't wash away. Over and over I tugged, white dust would endlessly come out until the "sand" was covering every inch of my black top. Not snow, not dirt, just flakes I later learned were dandruff. A nameless shame settled over me with each one that fell. For every confrontation, I didn’t face it but drowned it out with sound. The roar of the TV. Headphones blaring. Chatter clashing. It didn’t take long for the slick-back buns and generous layers of foundation to become an armour. Those noises grew heavier as I did. At relatives’ gatherings, they compared textures like they were scores. My curls were “tough,”and others were praised as “soft.” I used to press my head into the couch cushion before family photos because I wanted that ‘flat’ look everyone had. Concealing had become a ritual. My scalp ached from constant tight hairstyles, becoming flaky and dry.Skin was left irritated by layers of covered imperfections. It felt like a performance, but beneath the surface was discomfort and shame. Soon sound was not just background; it became a shield, a language I used to project normalcy while avoiding the quiet questions my mirror still asked. Silence was once avoidable, but not anymore. When the world broke for COVID in seventh grade, crowded hallways and busy schedules disappeared, leaving me with only my reflection and no armor to hide behind. Now, I wanted more than cover-ups; I wanted understanding. So I experimented. Late nights in quarantine, I’d mess around with protective styles, snapping and fumbling before catching my rhythm. There were oils and cleansers all over the counters like test tubes. I wrote down notes, observed results, and did experiments again. Some days it was flakes and on others blemishes. As I gradually built up my tolerance for waiting through testing, tweaking, and absorbing and then testing again. For the first time, I wasn’t performing for others; I was observing, creating, and healing. Silence, once terrifying, had become a teacher. The insecurities I once concealed now drive purpose. When I look in the mirror, I see my past curls, flakes, and scars. I observe patience, resilience and curiosity, enhanced by silence and experimentation. I now braid professional-level protective styles, create intentional routines, and share tips with friends on how to love their skin and hair. My mirror isn’t judging anymore; it’s questioning, learning and doing. I once feared silence. Now, I embrace it. It is a silence where I hear not noise but the rhythm of growth, resilience, and the music of who I am becoming.