I used to think TV dinners were the height of culinary luxury. As a kid in grade school, my brother and I would pop one into the microwave, marveling as our over-processed chicken went from frozen block to steaming mess, while often times the brownie had edges scorched to the plastic tray. For three straight months, that was dinner. At first, I thought it was fun; by the end, I felt embarrassed. I realized that while my classmates compared lunchboxes and swapped homemade snacks, I was learning to make the best of whatever I could afford. That memory of scorched chicken taught me two things: the importance of resourcefulness, and that if someone had to worry about getting a TV-dinner brownie perfectly microwaved, they certainly shouldn’t also have to worry about affording medical care. Growing up as the oldest of four in a single-parent household, financial strain was constant. My mother worked two low-wage jobs and battled hoarding tendencies, leaving our home cluttered and our budgets tight. When I saw friends’ pantries stocked with fresh fruit and homemade casseroles, I felt ashamed of our TV-dinner reality, and determined to change it. At age fourteen, I got my first after-school job at an ice rink, using my own earnings to buy meals and take some of the burden off my mother. That early work ethic became my lifeline as I learned to prioritize, to stretch resources, and to take pride in small achievements. Being a first-generation student compounded these challenges. No one in my family had navigated college applications or standardized tests. When it came time to apply for undergraduate programs, my mother didn’t even know the cost of application fees, so I cobbled together pocket change to apply to UNC–Chapel Hill, and a handful of other schools. I filled out FAFSA forms late into the night, searched for scholarships online, and taught myself the vocabulary of academia. When I earned a spot at the North Carolina School of Science and Mathematics (NCSSM), it felt like a breakthrough—not just for me, but for my whole family. Attending NCSSM opened doors to college-level labs, STEM mentors, and peers who shared my curiosity. It proved that perseverance could overcome lack of guidance. My passion for STEM, specifically for biochemistry, grew in that setting. In my underfunded high-school honors chemistry class before NCSSM, I fell in love with the puzzle-like nature of balancing equations and using formulas to solve for unknown variables. After transitioning schools, I saw those same patterns at scale: calculating solution ratios, optimizing reaction conditions, and realizing how these small calculations could one day translate into real-world applications. During a year-long internship at NC State’s Qingshan Wei Lab, I worked on chemo-responsive dyes to monitor plant health. It was there that I first appreciated how chemistry tools could do more than transform test tubes, they could detect stress, guide treatment decisions, and improve outcomes. Now, as a biochemistry major at UNC Chapel Hill and a student researcher in the Hathaway Lab, I’ve moved into epigenetics and gene therapy. I spend long afternoons programming CRISPR gene-editing machines, running automated plasmid-cloning protocols, and debugging software that controls liquid-handling robots. One of my most thrilling lab moments came when an undergraduate and I spent three weeks coaxing human stem cells into rhythmically pumping heart cells. Looking through the microscope, I felt both queasy and exhilarated, but it reminded that science can produce living, beating tissues in a dish. Those successes, and the many failed cloning attempts that preceded them, taught me that persistence, creativity, and collaboration can create tangible solutions. Yet, these cutting-edge discoveries often come with high price tags. I ask myself: how can breakthroughs in gene therapy reach families who still worry about microwaving a TV-dinner brownie? That question drives both my bench work and my policy interests. In a medical writing class, I drafted a mock policy proposal exploring partnerships with the Center for Medicare & Medicaid Innovation (CMMI) to pilot low-burden payment models for gene-based treatments. I also envision collaborating with community clinics to offer educational workshops on emerging therapies, ensuring underserved patients understand their options and rights. Looking ahead, I aim to pursue graduate study in molecular medicine, or a combined MD/PhD program focused on developing biomarkers, especially antibodies, to monitor long-term success of gene therapies. By detecting immune responses to viral vectors, we could tailor follow-up treatments, reduce adverse effects, and lower costs through more precise dosing. Simultaneously, I plan to work on policy initiatives that tie therapeutic reimbursement to real-world outcomes, partnering with nonprofits and local clinics to pilot community-driven models. My journey from microwaving TV dinners to editing genes has been defined by overcoming adversity and finding purpose in science. If perfecting a TV-dinner brownie seemed like a big deal at eight years old, then solving complex medical challenges must be within reach now.

The first time I realized my environment wasn’t normal was when I had to clear a path through clutter just to find a spot to study. Growing up in a home affected by my mother’s hoarding tendencies meant that space, stability, and peace were often hard to come by. I found my escape in books, science, and school—anything that gave me a sense of order and possibility. That early struggle sparked something in me: a commitment to bettering myself through education and eventually using what I learn to uplift others who feel stuck in difficult circumstances like I once did. I was raised by a single mother in Randleman, North Carolina. Our household was shaped by love but also marked by challenges—financial strain, frequent moves, and the absence of my Puerto Rican father, which left me disconnected from half of my cultural identity. Despite these difficulties, I developed a strong sense of independence and resilience. I took care of my younger sister, often cooked meals, and cleaned our home relentlessly just so we had a place to sleep or eat. In those moments, I wasn’t just surviving—I was learning the value of perseverance. My high school was underfunded and lacked the kinds of resources that many others take for granted. Still, I pushed myself academically and earned admission to the North Carolina School of Science and Mathematics, a highly competitive STEM-focused residential school. There, I found community, challenge, and a new sense of belonging. I later continued my journey at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, where I am now a rising sophomore majoring in biochemistry. I’m currently conducting research in the Hathaway Lab, studying how epigenetic mechanisms can be used to suppress or reverse cancer. Outside of the lab, I stay active through rugby and working out at the gym—two passions that keep me grounded and mentally strong. I also volunteer at the Spirit Horse Ranch Education Center, where I help facilitate therapeutic horseback riding lessons for children with disabilities. Watching these kids grow in confidence and ability has reminded me how important support and opportunity can be for someone’s development, no matter their background. My long-term goal is to bridge the gap between groundbreaking research and real-world access. Treatments born in labs like mine often don’t reach people in rural or under-resourced communities. I want to help change that. Whether it’s through policy, nonprofit collaboration, or direct work in biotech, I aim to make sure people from places like Randleman aren’t left behind in the future of medicine. Receiving the Mark Green Memorial Scholarship would lift a huge financial burden, allowing me to focus more on my studies, research, and service without needing to take on multiple jobs. Just like Mr. Green, I believe in the transformative power of education, and I’m committed to using my journey not only to succeed, but to give back. This scholarship would be more than financial support—it would be a stepping stone toward creating a better, more equitable future for others like me.

I grew up as the oldest of four in a small rural town, raised by my single mother who juggled two jobs and struggled with hoarding tendencies. Our house was always crowded with furniture, papers, and boxes—enough that I learned early on to find calm in chaos. Every evening, I’d organize my siblings’ rooms, clear pathways through the living areas, and build little systems—plastic bins, labeled folders, checklists—to keep us moving. That daily routine taught me that small, consistent efforts can shape a better environment, and I’ve carried that lesson into every part of my life: from my lab bench at UNC–Chapel Hill to the rugby pitch where I feel truly at home. School became my refuge and my mission. As a first‑generation college student, I had no one at home who could guide me through applications, financial aid forms, or standardized tests. I poured myself into my classes, teaching myself the math and science I needed to qualify for the North Carolina School of Science and Mathematics, a boarding program far from home. Being there was my first taste of what I could achieve if I took charge of my own path—and it set the tone for everything that followed. Now, I’m a biochemistry major at UNC, where I’ve logged hundreds of hours in the Hathaway Lab studying epigenetic markers and running CRISPR gene‑editing workflows. I love watching a guide RNA design transform into engineered cells under the microscope; it’s the kind of hands‑on, challenge‑driven work I dreamed of as a kid who first fell in love with chemistry. But I didn’t stop at the bench. I’ve learned to think in big, interconnected systems—how a methyl group on DNA can ripple through cellular pathways, just as the small habits I built at home can ripple through my family’s well‑being. Outside the lab, rugby has become my second family. On that field, I finally found a community where I could express a more masculine side of myself without apology. Our coaches—many of whom identify as transmasc or butch—reminded us that rugby is a safe space and taught us never to say sorry for making a tackle. Scoring my first try in 15s and hearing the chant of “Hail to the Warrior” still gives me chills. Rugby has shown me the power of teamwork, resilience, and owning my strength—both physical and emotional. My aspirations have grown from these experiences. I plan to pursue a career in health sciences, focusing on gene‑based therapies for cancer that are not only effective but also accessible. As a queer student, I’ve seen firsthand how gaps in policy and privilege leave underserved communities behind. I want to change that by combining research with advocacy—designing outreach programs, partnering with nonprofits, and working alongside policymakers to ensure that breakthroughs in epigenetics and gene therapy don’t remain out of reach. Looking back, I see the common thread: turning obstacles into opportunity. Whether I’m untangling a home filled with clutter, troubleshooting a stubborn plasmid‑cloning protocol, or charging into a tackle on the pitch, I bring the same determination, organization, and heart. That drive has shaped who I am today—and it’s the fuel I’ll carry forward as I work to build a healthier, more equitable world.

1. I am a first‑generation student at UNC–Chapel Hill majoring in biochemistry with a focus on pre‑health and epigenetics research. Growing up in a low‑income household with my single mother and three younger siblings, I quickly learned that education would be my pathway to a better life. My mother has dealt with hoarding tendencies for as long as I can remember, and those cluttered living spaces taught me two invaluable lessons: the importance of personal responsibility and the belief that small, consistent efforts can build toward transformative change. Every evening after school and on weekends, I would organize my siblings’ rooms, sort through piles of books, and find systems to keep our household functional. In the process, I developed a strong work ethic, an eye for detail, and a genuine desire to support others—qualities that now guide me both in the classroom and in the lab. As a queer student, I’ve also witnessed how identity and healthcare access intersect. Far too often, I have seen friends or community members excluded from clinical trials, face discriminatory insurance policies, or simply lack culturally competent providers who understand their needs. These experiences have fueled my commitment not only to advance scientific research, but also to ensure that the innovations we develop reach underserved populations. If I could do anything with my life, I would found a research institute dedicated to gene‑based and epigenetic therapies that partners directly with community organizations, nonprofits, and policymakers. My dream would be to create mobile clinics or telehealth platforms that deliver cutting‑edge treatments—like targeted DNA methylation modulators or personalized cellular therapies—to rural areas and low‑income urban neighborhoods. In that ideal role, my day might include designing clinical outreach programs in the morning, analyzing patient‑derived genomic data after lunch, and meeting with legislators in the afternoon to advocate for inclusive healthcare legislation. 2. What excites me most about STEM is the clear, measurable link between basic research and real‑world outcomes. In the Hathaway Lab at UNC, I’ve spent hundreds of hours working with CRISPR gene‑editing machines, high‑throughput liquid‑handling robots, and automated plasmid‑cloning workstations. Designing a guide RNA sequence, watching the robotic arm assemble reaction mixtures, and then validating my edits under a fluorescence microscope—all of these steps bring theoretical knowledge into tangible results. When I saw that a single‑base change in a tumor‑suppressor gene restored normal cellular behavior in our epigenetics model, I felt the same thrill a coder might feel when finalizing a flawless algorithm. However, cutting‑edge lab hardware and protocols are only as powerful as the software that controls them and the data pipelines that interpret their outputs. That’s where information technology comes in. I envision a career in biotech IT where I blend my bench experience with software development to streamline laboratory workflows and democratize access to advanced tools. For instance, I could design a user‑friendly graphical interface that simplifies CRISPR experimental setup—automatically translating a researcher’s high‑level objectives into optimized machine protocols. This would lower the barrier to entry for smaller academic labs or clinics in resource‑limited settings, where staff may not have specialized training in molecular automation. Ultimately, a career at the intersection of biochemistry and information technology would let me act as a force multiplier: improving the accuracy, efficiency, and accessibility of biotech tools so that breakthroughs—whether in cancer epigenetic therapy or genetic disease diagnostics—reach a broader, more diverse population. 3. The greatest challenge I’ve faced is growing up in a household dominated by my mother’s hoarding tendencies and the financial instability that accompanied it. Our home was often overcrowded with possessions—stacks of old newspapers, outdated electronics, and boxes of unused belongings—which created a daily environment of chaos and unpredictability. As the oldest sibling, I took on responsibilities beyond my years: organizing communal spaces, ensuring basic hygiene, and protecting my younger brothers and sister from the emotional toll of living in clutter. This situation also meant I had to become fiercely self‑reliant. My mother, though loving, was not able to offer guidance on financial aid, college applications, or standardized tests, so I learned to navigate those processes on my own. In my sophomore year of high school, I turned this adversity into opportunity by applying to the North Carolina School of Science and Mathematics (NCSSM). Coming from a rural town with few STEM resources, earning a spot at this selective school was a monumental feat. Living away from home for the first time, I found a structured environment where access to labs, mentorship, and rigorous coursework replaced the instability I’d known. NCSSM taught me that perseverance and resourcefulness can bridge gaps in support. I absorbed every lecture, joined research projects, and formed study groups—all to compensate for the lack of a parental roadmap. That experience set a precedent for my time at UNC. When I joined the Hathaway Lab, I found parallels between navigating my home life and mastering complex molecular techniques: both required patience, meticulous organization, and the willingness to seek help when needed. Today, I still keep detailed lab notebooks, maintain digital systems to track my experimental data, and carve out time each weekend to decompress which are skills born from years of making order out of disorder. The financial aid and work‑study positions that support my education have been a lifeline, but they’ve also forced tough choices between earning money and spending time in the lab. I’ve learned to advocate for myself and those efforts have paid off in both my academic performance and my mental health. Facing and surmounting these challenges has shaped me into the driven, compassionate researcher I am today. It’s taught me that obstacles can fuel innovation, that equity requires infrastructure and advocacy rather than just goodwill.

I’ve always wanted to play a high‑contact sport—rugby, football, or lacrosse—but growing up, the closest I came was as a goalkeeper on my high school soccer team. My single mother discouraged me: it was simply unheard of for girls to take part in such “dangerous” activities. When I arrived at UNC–Chapel Hill, however, rugby quickly became one of my greatest passions. I joined the team right after training camp, excited to finally test myself in a sport built on strength and teamwork. From day one on the pitch, I found my rugby family. During our very first practice, I noticed teammates who, like me, had more masculine features, spoke loudly, and refused to be confined by traditional ideas of what it means to be a girl. Our three coaches, club alumni who identify as transmasc or butch, welcomed us with a promise that this would be a safe space. They taught us, among many other things, to never apologize for making a tackle or missing a lineout. Coming from an environment where I was always taught to say “sorry,” I found it liberating to learn that in rugby, we own every hit, every mistake, and every success together. That sense of belonging made it easier to navigate the steep learning curve of six hours of practice a week, plus games every weekend. By November 2024, I scored my first try in 15s, and the team marked the moment with a brief induction chant—“Hail to the Warrior”—that instantly felt like a rite of passage. Beyond the thrill of scoring, it was the shared celebration that convinced me rugby was more than a sport, it was home. Playing on the college team has given me confidence I never expected. There’s something empowering about knowing you can tackle someone twice your size or hold firm in an eight‑man scrum as a flank. Looking ahead, I hope to leverage that confidence into community outreach: coaching youth clinics in underrepresented neighborhoods and, eventually, joining an adult league after graduation. I want to show boys and girls alike that strength, resilience, and teamwork aren’t limited by gender. Balancing classes, lab work, and rugby hasn’t been easy. Some days I’d move straight from morning lectures to a work‑study shift in the lab, then to practice, stretching my day from 9 AM until 10 PM—still needing to fit homework in whenever I could. Because I rely on work‑study to afford my education, I’ve often had to choose between extra shifts and extra reps on the pitch. Missing practices or games to earn money has been one of my hardest sacrifices. This scholarship would relieve much of that financial pressure, giving me the flexibility to remain fully committed to the team without jeopardizing my grades or living expenses. It would mean trading a work shift for an extra strength session or recovery day—time I could use to grow both as a player and as a student. Rugby has become the place where I can be myself—expressing a more masculine side without judgment, learning to communicate clearly under pressure, and caring for my teammates in ways I never anticipated. I’m grateful for every tackle, every try, and every moment I’ve shared with my rugby family. With your support, I hope to continue building that community on and off the field, using the values I’ve learned to lift others up long after my college career ends.

I’ve always been interested in chemistry and healthcare, but it wasn’t until my freshman year at UNC that I found a way to connect the two. During that first semester, I began working as a student assistant in the Hathaway Research Lab on projects involving epigenetic markers. In my very first week, I was assigned a series of academic articles to get a feel for the work being done, and I quickly discovered a massive gap between my chemistry knowledge and the foundational topics in epigenetics, such as DNA methylation, that I was only just being introduced to. Recognizing that gap led me to change my major to biochemistry, understanding that formal training in biochemistry and epigenetics was essential for contributing meaningfully to medical research. Shifting from pure chemistry coursework to biochemistry and epigenetics classes prompted me to adopt a broader perspective. In chemistry, I was used to focusing on individual reactions and molecular mechanisms; in epigenetics and biology, I needed to understand entire pathways and how early biochemical events cascade into downstream effects. Learning to think about these interconnected processes required more internalization of complex systems and more frequent collaboration with peers to map out how a change in one molecule might influence an entire network. Although it was challenging at first, mastering that “big picture” approach has become one of my strongest assets in designing experiments and interpreting results. After switching majors, I could immediately apply my chemistry background to biological questions. Courses in enzyme kinetics, molecular genetics, and cell signaling provided the context I needed to design DNA methylation assays, analyze protein expression data, and explore how environmental factors influence gene regulation. Contributing to those studies confirmed for me that a strong foundation in both chemistry and biology is essential for translating basic research into clinical applications.Looking forward, I plan to use my biochemistry degree to work on gene‑based therapies for cancer. Epigenetic treatments—aimed at reversing harmful chemical modifications on DNA—hold significant promise, but there is still much to learn about delivery methods, specificity, and safety. I hope to join a research group or a biotechnology company focused on developing new viral vectors, small‑molecule epigenetic modulators, or CRISPR‑based systems that can target cancer cells more effectively. At the same time, I’ve seen firsthand how the high cost of cutting‑edge treatments can strain lower‑income families. Although I haven’t yet worked directly with patients, I have witnessed the financial and emotional toll that inaccessible therapies can impose on loved ones. That experience motivates me not only to advance the science of gene therapy, but also to address affordability. I would like to collaborate with nonprofit organizations, patient advocacy groups, or health‑policy makers to develop strategies—such as tiered pricing models, educational programs, and broader distribution networks—that make these therapies more affordable and widely available. Throughout my studies and lab work, I’ve developed strong communication skills by presenting complex data to diverse audiences, cultivated ambition by pursuing increasingly challenging research questions, and maintained a caring approach by considering the human impact of every experiment. I’m driven by the idea that combining chemical insights with biological research can lead to new options for patient care, and that ensuring equitable access to those options is equally important. Pursuing biochemistry has given me a clear direction for integrating my academic interests with a commitment to improving healthcare for all.