My fond recollection of Syria is characterized by sorrow. The cheerless details of its mind-numbing impact repetitively invade my thoughts. I woke up to the ramifications of nitrate fuel, clogged surroundings, and loud howls for help. Through the blasting white noise, I could hardly hear my father yelling, “Mayada, don’t stand near the door!” Clasping his arms around my body and quickly blocking the front entryway behind him. "Those bullets can instantly penetrate your skull; before you know it, we're arranging another funeral." Looking back at that moment, it feels surreal; a ten-year-old distressed about a bullet coming for her. Being in Syria at the onset of the Civil War, I came face to face with death ceaselessly as each bullet stripped away my childhood innocence time and time again. Such was a time where formal education was naturally relegated to the quarters of forgetfulness in my mind; how else could I think of going to school when my life was under threat? Despite the millions of destroyed homes, community adherence helped conserve our values with a collaborative spirit that kept many of us alive. I held onto the moments of perseverance in which I noted people helping others, even when they had seldom anything left to spare. The neighbors sharing a loaf of bread. The men rushing injured people to the nearest shelter. The women planting flowers where some once lived, fought and died. Gardens filled with wildflowers blanketed land scarred by tragedy and death, bringing an abundance of life and color to a weary war-torn county. Perhaps, I found the absolute best of humanity in Syria. Experiencing the ravages of war led me to acknowledge the deep-rooted psychological manifestations of trauma. As a diaspora child, helplessness and survivor’s guilt consumed me. For years, even after we managed to move, my family faced the repercussion of displacement that hijacked our lives. I silently suffered the consequences of untreated trauma, ancestral casualties, and the destruction of educational infrastructure. Education itself appeared as a luxury. The silent struggles and hidden grief felt heavy as they were invisible to those around me. Despite the tangible suffering, the realization that spurred my healing journey is fully attributed to my passioned engagement with under-served communities across the globe; like my ten-year-old would have wished, I used my personal experiences as a catalyst to heal other fallen victims to violence. I spent many hours learning from the healthcare environment through volunteering, shadowing, research and self-initiatives that collectively powered my drive for medicine. As a prospective scholar, I strive to apply what I learned from my experiences to address health-related deficits in my community. Living between narratives, at peace and through wartime, I was exposed to the dispossession and marginalization most communities faced. Seeing this variance first hand, in Syria, a country beset with extreme socio-economic inequality mired in poverty, illuminated the relationship between persistent disparities due to systemic access to care and bias in the delivery of it. Provocatively compelled by this disparity, I am dedicated to channeling my educational endeavors towards alleviating the plight of global health inequalities. Although my life is marked by conflict, it armed me with resilience to make the best of even the most difficult circumstances. The turbulence I have experienced has manifested in the compassion, curiosity and courage that is rooted in my personality. Even as a war survivor, I have not changed my intrinsic beliefs but instead strengthened my intense desire to become a future physician.

My fond recollection of Syria is characterized by sorrow. The cheerless details of its mind-numbing impact repetitively invade my thoughts. I woke up to the ramifications of nitrate fuel, clogged surroundings, and loud howls for help. Through the blasting white noise, I could hardly hear my father yelling, “Mayada, don’t stand near the door!” Clasping his arms around my body and quickly blocking the front entryway behind him. "Those bullets can instantly penetrate your skull; before you know it, we're arranging another funeral." Looking back at that moment, it feels surreal; a ten-year-old distressed about a bullet coming for her. Being in Syria at the onset of the Civil War, I came face to face with death ceaselessly as each bullet stripped away my childhood innocence time and time again. Such was a time where formal education was naturally relegated to the quarters of forgetfulness in my mind; how else could I think of going to school when my life was under threat? Despite the millions of destroyed homes, community adherence helped conserve our values with a collaborative spirit that kept many of us alive. I held onto the moments of perseverance in which I noted people helping others, even when they had seldom anything left to spare. The neighbors sharing a loaf of bread. The men rushing injured people to the nearest shelter. The women planting flowers where some once lived, fought and died. Gardens filled with wildflowers blanketed land scarred by tragedy and death, bringing an abundance of life and color to a weary war-torn county. Perhaps, I found the absolute best of humanity in Syria. Experiencing the ravages of war led me to acknowledge the deep-rooted psychological manifestations of trauma. As a diaspora child, helplessness and survivor’s guilt consumed me. For years, even after we managed to move, my family faced the repercussion of displacement that hijacked our lives. I silently suffered the consequences of untreated trauma, ancestral casualties, and the destruction of educational infrastructure. Education itself appeared as a luxury. The silent struggles and hidden grief felt heavy as they were invisible to those around me. Despite the tangible suffering, the realization that spurred my healing journey is fully attributed to my passioned engagement with under-served communities across the globe; like my ten-year-old would have wished, I used my personal experiences as a catalyst to heal other fallen victims to violence. I spent many hours learning from the healthcare environment through volunteering, shadowing, research and self-initiatives that collectively powered my drive for medicine. As a prospective medical student, I strive to apply what I learned from my experiences to address health-related deficits in my community. Living between narratives, at peace and through wartime, I was exposed to the dispossession and marginalization most communities faced. Seeing this variance first hand, in Syria, a country beset with extreme socio-economic inequality mired in poverty, illuminated the relationship between persistent disparities due to systemic access to care and bias in the delivery of it. Provocatively compelled by this disparity, I am dedicated to channeling my educational endeavors towards alleviating the plight of global health inequalities. Although my life is marked by conflict, it armed me with resilience to make the best of even the most difficult circumstances. The turbulence I have experienced has manifested in the compassion, curiosity and courage that is rooted in my personality. Even as a war survivor, I have not changed my intrinsic beliefs but instead strengthened my intense desire to become a future physician.