I grew up in a single-parent household, and that experience has shaped almost every part of who I am today. My mom worked tirelessly to provide for me, often sacrificing her own needs so I could have opportunities she never had. While it was not always easy, those challenges instilled in me a strong sense of resilience, independence, and gratitude. Living with one parent meant there were times when resources were limited, and I had to take on responsibilities that many of my peers did not have to worry about. Instead of letting that discourage me, I used it as motivation to focus on my education and my future. The absence of a second parent was not just about financial strain, it also meant navigating emotional gaps. There were moments when I wished I had both parents cheering me on, but I learned to find strength in the support I did have. My mom’s perseverance became a model for me, and I grew determined to honor her sacrifices by excelling academically and never giving up, no matter how overwhelming things seemed. Even when I faced setbacks, I reminded myself that my challenges were not roadblocks, but stepping stones that could help me grow. One of the greatest challenges I faced was the uncertainty around how to pay for my education. Watching my mom carry so much responsibility made me aware of how hard it would be to cover tuition and living expenses. At times, the financial pressure made me question if college was truly possible for me. But I refused to let that fear define my future. Instead, I worked hard, applied for scholarships, and stayed dedicated to my studies. Each small victory, like making the President’s List, reminded me that perseverance pays off and that I was capable of achieving my dreams despite the obstacles. Education has become more than just a personal goal for me; it is a way to transform my life and, ultimately, to make a difference in the lives of others. My intended field of study, neuroscience, excites me because it combines my love for science with my passion for mental health and understanding the human brain. I hope to use my degree to not only build a meaningful career but also to advocate for better access to mental health resources in underserved communities. Growing up, I saw how a lack of support and awareness around mental health could negatively impact families, and I want to be part of the solution. My long-term goal is to use my education to uplift others who face systemic barriers similar to the ones my family and I have encountered. Whether that means conducting research, working directly with patients, or advocating for policy changes, I want my work to make an impact. My background taught me that hardship does not define you; it can refine you into someone stronger, more empathetic, and more driven to create change. By pursuing higher education, I am not just working toward a degree for myself. I am also carrying the hopes and sacrifices of my family and paving a path that I hope will inspire others. I want to show that no matter where you start, it is possible to build a future that is filled with purpose, service, and hope

My name is Onieka Williams, and I am a first-year student at Georgia State University majoring in neuroscience. I graduated from high school in Jamaica, where I was actively involved in clubs like Girls Guide, which taught me the value of leadership, service, and empathy. Moving to the United States and transitioning into college life has been both exciting and challenging, especially as I continue to grow academically and personally. My experiences have deepened my interest in mental health and my desire to advocate for awareness, especially among college students who, like me, are navigating new environments and pressures. Throughout high school, I became more aware of how critical mental health is to overall well-being. In a community where mental health is often overlooked or misunderstood, I learned firsthand how silence and stigma can prevent people from seeking help. I saw how stress, anxiety, and depression affected not only classmates but also adults around me who didn’t have the language or resources to talk about what they were feeling. These experiences planted the seed for my passion to make a difference in how we approach mental health, especially in college settings. In college, I plan to take an active role in raising awareness and reducing the stigma surrounding mental health. I want to join or help create student-led mental health clubs and initiatives on campus that focus on education, peer support, and advocacy. I believe in creating safe spaces where students can be open about their struggles without fear of judgment. Through workshops, events, and peer-led discussions, I want to help normalize conversations around mental health and encourage more students to seek support when needed. Additionally, as a neuroscience major, I plan to use my studies to understand the brain and the biological underpinnings of mental health conditions. With that knowledge, I want to bridge the gap between science and empathy, breaking down complex information so it's accessible and relatable to everyone, not just people in the medical field. My long-term goal is to become a mental health professional or researcher who contributes to both healing and education in underrepresented communities, especially among Black and immigrant populations. I also plan to collaborate with mental health organizations and counseling services on campus to help promote their resources. Sometimes, students don’t reach out for help simply because they don’t know where to go. I want to change that by making mental health resources more visible, approachable, and integrated into everyday student life. Mental health isn’t just a personal issue; it’s a community one. If we’re going to truly support each other, especially in college, where pressures are high, we need to lead with compassion, knowledge, and a willingness to listen. That’s the kind of leader I want to be. And through education, advocacy, and action, I hope to make a meaningful impact that lasts well beyond my time in college.

My involvement in my local church has been one of the most impactful parts of my life, shaping not only how I view service but also how I actively contribute to my community. From a young age, I witnessed the church as more than just a place for Sunday worship. It was a center of support, comfort, and action for many people around me. This community became a safe space where I learned the power of kindness, empathy, and collective effort. Through my church, I was introduced to the real-life meaning of service; showing up for people in tangible, meaningful ways. One of the most memorable ways my church involvement translated into community service was through our outreach programs. We visited families and individuals facing difficult circumstances, often delivering food, offering prayers, and helping with small repairs to their homes. In Jamaica, where I grew up, this type of hands-on support is crucial because many people struggle to meet basic needs. These visits showed me the importance of being present and compassionate, beyond just words. It was about making a real difference in someone’s day, sometimes even their whole life. These experiences built my awareness of the struggles people face and fueled my passion for helping those who feel overlooked or unsupported. Additionally, being part of the church community taught me valuable lessons in leadership and collaboration. I often helped organize food drives, fundraising events, and community cleanups. Coordinating these activities required communication, planning, and teamwork, which helped me grow as a leader. More than that, it showed me how small, consistent acts of kindness and organization can create a ripple effect of positivity in a community. These projects were proof that change does not always have to come from grand gestures, it often starts with a few people coming together and committing to do something good. What truly makes my church experience special is how it instilled in me a sense of responsibility and humility. Service became a lifestyle, not just a one-time activity. The lessons learned in those church halls: about grace, patience, and unconditional support, influence how I interact with everyone around me. Whether it’s volunteering, mentoring younger students, or simply offering a listening ear to someone going through a tough time, I try to embody those values every day. Looking ahead, I plan to carry this spirit of service with me beyond college and into my future career and personal life. I believe the foundation my church gave me will empower me to remain connected to my community no matter where life takes me. I want to continue volunteering and leading projects that uplift people who face hardships, especially those from underserved communities. More than that, I want to inspire others to see service as a powerful way to create change, not only in the world but within themselves. In conclusion, my church experience has been more than just a series of activities; it has been a deep source of inspiration, growth, and connection. It shaped my understanding of what it means to serve, showed me the importance of empathy and action, and prepared me to be a lifelong contributor to the betterment of my community. Because of this, I feel confident and motivated to keep making a positive impact wherever I go.

Mental health care should never be a luxury, yet for many people, especially in underserved communities, it still is. As someone who has seen firsthand how mental health struggles can go unaddressed due to financial or cultural barriers, I’m deeply committed to making mental health care more accessible and affordable. My unique contribution to the world would be to help bridge the gap between communities and care. As a future neurologist with a strong passion for mental health, I plan to advocate for integrated care models that bring mental health services into schools, community clinics, and even churches. I want to partner with local organizations to launch affordable care programs, increase mental health education, and reduce the stigma that often keeps people from getting the help they need. Additionally, I hope to return to Jamaica and create a clinic that offers both neurological and psychological services at a reduced cost, especially for low-income families. I believe no one should suffer in silence because help is too far or too expensive. My mission is to meet people where they are and remind them that their minds matter, because true healing starts with access and understanding.

As a future medical professional and proud Black woman, I don’t just see my degree as a personal achievement, I see it as a tool for collective empowerment. Pursuing a career in medicine is more than a dream for me; it’s a calling deeply rooted in the desire to uplift and serve BIPOC women who, for far too long, have been forced to navigate healthcare systems that weren’t built with us in mind. We live in a world where Black women are three times more likely to die from pregnancy-related causes than white women. Where pain is dismissed, symptoms are overlooked, and mental health is often stigmatized or neglected. These are not just statistics to me, they are real, lived experiences I’ve witnessed in my family, community, and even within myself. These disparities are what push me forward. They remind me that my degree is not just about status or science, it’s about justice. I plan to use my medical degree to become a neurologist, specializing in understanding how conditions like stroke, epilepsy, or neurological disorders disproportionately affect communities of color. But beyond diagnosis and treatment, I want to create spaces where BIPOC women feel seen, heard, and validated. My goal is to open a clinic that offers culturally competent care where patients don’t have to code-switch or explain their pain in ways others can understand. Where wellness is viewed through a holistic lens, including physical, mental, emotional, and cultural needs. Community engagement will be at the heart of my work. I believe in meeting people where they are: in schools, churches, barbershops, community centers. I plan to host workshops, mentor young women interested in healthcare, and create support groups for women dealing with chronic conditions or mental health challenges. Representation is powerful, and I want young girls to look at me and know they belong in any room they walk into, lab coats, stethoscopes, and all. Advocacy is also key. I refuse to be silent in systems that continue to fail BIPOC communities. Whether it’s pushing for better maternal care policies, equitable funding for underserved hospitals, or mandatory anti-racism training for medical professionals, I will use my voice to fight for change. I’ve already begun this work in small ways, volunteering, organizing food drives through my church in Jamaica, and learning how to speak up in spaces that weren’t made for me. But I know that with my degree, my reach will grow, and so will my impact. The fight for equity is not a trend, it’s a lifelong commitment. As a Black woman in a helping profession, I carry both the burden and the privilege of transforming pain into purpose. I don’t have all the answers yet, but I have the heart, the drive, and the deep-rooted understanding of what’s at stake. My degree will be my weapon, my clinic will be my platform, and my advocacy will be my legacy. Because when BIPOC women are cared for, uplifted, and empowered, our whole world gets better.

Growing up, I didn’t always have the words to describe what I was feeling. I just knew something felt heavy. As a young Black woman, mental health wasn’t exactly a common topic in my household or community. We were taught to be strong, to “pray it away,” to push through. So that’s what I did, until I couldn’t anymore. My experience with mental health has been one of the hardest, yet most transformative parts of my journey. It’s changed how I see myself, how I connect with others, and what I want to do with my life. There were moments when I felt like I was drowning in my own thoughts. Anxiety and self-doubt took over, especially during big transitions, moving to a new country, starting college, feeling like I had to constantly prove myself in every room I walked into. At first, I kept it all inside. But eventually, I learned that silence only makes things worse. Opening up to trusted friends, teachers, and eventually a counselor was one of the bravest things I’ve ever done. It taught me that vulnerability isn’t weakness, it’s strength. That experience didn’t just shift my mindset; it changed the way I approach every relationship in my life. I became more patient with others and with myself. I started recognizing the signs of struggle in people around me, sometimes in what they said, but more often in what they didn’t. My empathy grew because I knew how it felt to suffer quietly, and I didn’t want anyone else to feel alone like that. It deepened my connections, made me a better listener, and helped me become a safe space for people who needed one. Career-wise, mental health has shaped everything. My passion for neuroscience isn’t just about the science itself, it’s about the people. I want to understand the brain not just to treat it, but to humanize it. To show people that their mental and emotional experiences are valid, that there’s science behind their feelings, and that help is possible. I want to be a doctor who doesn’t just prescribe and move on, but one who listens, relates, and truly sees the full person behind the symptoms. I’m especially drawn to addressing mental health in underserved communities: Black communities, immigrant communities, people who’ve been taught to suppress instead of express. There’s still so much stigma, and it keeps people from getting help. I want to break that down, not just in clinics, but through education, outreach, and creating safe spaces for open conversations. I want to be someone who shows that taking care of your mind is just as important as taking care of your body. Mental health made me realize that healing isn’t linear and strength doesn’t always look like perfection. Sometimes it looks like showing up on the days when it would’ve been easier to stay in bed. Sometimes it looks like asking for help. And sometimes it looks like becoming the help that others need. My journey hasn’t been easy, but it’s given me clarity and purpose. Because I struggled, I understand. And because I understand, I care deeply. That care is what’s going to guide me through med school and into a future where I can advocate, educate, and heal, mind and body, science and soul.

My name is Oneika Williams, and I am a proud Black woman, immigrant, and aspiring neurologist. I’ve always been curious about how things work, especially the human brain. But more than curiosity, what truly drives me is purpose. I care deeply about underserved communities and the people who are so often overlooked when it comes to quality healthcare. My mission is to use science, empathy, and advocacy to close those gaps. Growing up in Jamaica and then moving to the United States gave me two very different views of healthcare. Back home, neurological and mental health conditions often go untreated due to stigma or lack of access. Here, I’ve seen how poverty and systemic inequality still make care inaccessible for many. That’s why I feel so connected to the issue of healthcare disparities. It’s personal. I’ve watched people suffer not because help didn’t exist, but because it wasn’t accessible or affordable. If I had the power to change that, and one day, I hope I do, I would establish a global network of community-based neurological clinics. These centers would provide not only diagnosis and treatment but also education. I want to train local healthcare workers, host family workshops to reduce stigma, and use telemedicine to reach patients in rural areas. Innovation doesn’t always mean inventing something new; sometimes, it means making what already exists truly reachable. My love for neuroscience began when I started researching the brain on my own as a teenager. I was fascinated by the way trauma and stress affect neurological development, especially in children. That interest deepened as I saw loved ones struggle silently with mental health issues they couldn’t name. That’s when I knew: this is what I want to study, and this is how I want to help. I chose neuroscience not just because it’s intellectually challenging, but because it’s socially necessary. My goal is to become a neurologist who specializes in both clinical practice and community advocacy. In the next five years, I plan to graduate with my bachelor’s degree, attend medical school, and begin building a platform to educate people about brain health—especially in Black communities. I also want to mentor young women pursuing STEM fields. My roadmap includes internships, continued volunteer work, and building relationships with organizations that support underserved populations. I’m moving with intention, one step at a time. Education has changed my life. Taking classes in biology, psychology, and public health has helped me understand not just my academic path, but myself. I’ve learned that I’m not just passionate, I’m persistent. I’ve also realized that science and service go hand in hand. Every lecture, every lab, every late-night study session has brought me closer to understanding why I want to do this work: because people need someone who sees them fully, not just as a diagnosis but as a human being. As a woman, and specifically, a Black woman, in STEM, I’ve had to push through doubt, judgment, and subtle bias. People have questioned whether I “look like” a doctor or if I can “handle” the rigor. But instead of shrinking, I’ve let those moments fuel me. I’ve learned how to advocate for myself, to walk into spaces like I belong (because I do), and to speak up when others can’t. My identity has made me resilient, and it’s also made me deeply empathetic. Leadership to me isn’t about having a title. It’s about taking initiative and being accountable to your community. Back in Jamaica, I was part of the Girls Guide program, where we visited infirmaries, donated food, and supported people in need. Through my church, I helped provide care packages and prayed with families facing hardship. Now in college, I continue to lead by showing up for others, whether that’s through group projects, mentoring, or just being someone people can count on. One of the hardest moments I’ve faced was having to take a gap year after high school because of my immigration process. Watching my classmates move on while I was stuck in limbo was painful. I felt like my dreams were slipping away. But instead of giving up, I stayed focused. I used that time to work, volunteer, and prepare for college. That year taught me that setbacks don’t define me, my response to them does. If awarded this scholarship, it would mean more than just financial relief. It would be a sign that someone believes in my vision. Right now, I’m facing high tuition costs as an out-of-state student while juggling part-time work. This support would allow me to focus more on academics, get the supplies I need, and keep pushing toward med school without constantly worrying about money. Most importantly, it would help me build the future I dream of, a future where no one has to suffer in silence due to lack of access. Thank you for considering my story, my vision, and my heart. I’m ready to put in the work, and I’m not backing down.

My name is Oneika Williams, and I’m a first-generation college student recently moved from Jamaica to the United States. I’m currently pursuing my undergraduate degree with the long-term goal of becoming a neurologist. My passion for healthcare, specifically neurological care, began when I realized how under-diagnosed and often misunderstood neurological disorders are in communities like the one I grew up in. Back home in Jamaica, I witnessed countless individuals living with conditions like epilepsy, Alzheimer’s, and depression who went undiagnosed or untreated simply because resources and education were scarce. I want to help change that. I’ve always been fascinated by how the brain works, how something so small can control every part of our body and influence our thoughts, behaviors, and emotions. But more than that, I’m drawn to medicine because of the power it holds to restore quality of life and provide comfort to people who are suffering. Being a doctor, especially a neurologist, is about more than just science; it’s about empathy, advocacy, and access. While I am incredibly passionate about my goals, getting to this point hasn’t been easy. I had to take a gap year after high school due to complications in my immigration process, which delayed my educational path and was discouraging at times. I felt like I was being left behind. Since starting college, I’ve also faced financial obstacles that continue to be a major barrier. I’m considered an out-of-state student, which means my tuition is significantly higher. On top of that, I work part-time to help cover expenses. Balancing work, school, and life responsibilities is overwhelming, but I keep going because I know what I’m working toward. Receiving this scholarship would be life-changing. It would relieve some of the financial stress my family and I are experiencing, and allow me to focus more on my studies and career preparation without constantly worrying about how I’ll pay for the next semester. It would help me afford textbooks, lab materials, and other necessities that often go overlooked but make a huge difference in a student’s success. Most of all, it would be an investment in someone who is fully committed to giving back. In the future, I hope to use my education to return to Jamaica and provide neurological services to underserved communities. I want to open clinics that not only treat patients but also educate families about mental and neurological health. I also want to mentor and support other students, especially young Black girls, who are navigating systems that weren’t designed with us in mind. Representation matters, and I want to be the person I needed growing up. This scholarship won’t just support my education. It will support a future doctor, a first-generation student, a daughter, and a girl who refuses to give up on her dream. Thank you for considering my application

From a young age, I was taught that community is everything. Growing up in Jamaica, I was surrounded by people who showed me the power of kindness, generosity, and support, even when they didn’t have much to give. Whether it was through my church, where we visited people in need with food and prayers, or through Girls Guide, where we helped out at the infirmary, I learned that even small acts of service can make a lasting difference. Those experiences planted a seed in me, a desire to spend my life giving back. My goal is to become a neurologist. I’ve always been fascinated by the human brain, but even more than that, I’ve been driven by the fact that so many people especially in underserved countries like my own, go without proper diagnosis or care when it comes to neurological disorders. After college and medical school, I plan to return to Jamaica and open a clinic that provides accessible and affordable neurological care. My dream is to bridge the gap between quality healthcare and the people who need it most. I want families to have answers, patients to have hope, and communities to have better resources. But I’m not waiting until after college to start making an impact. Right now, I’m working part-time while balancing school, and I use every opportunity I can to uplift others. Whether it’s helping a classmate who’s struggling with a concept, volunteering through my church, or simply showing up with kindness, I try to be a source of light in the spaces I occupy. I believe that change starts with the little things: consistency, compassion, and commitment. Being a Black woman in STEM also motivates me to lead by example. I want young girls who look like me to know that they belong in science, medicine, and leadership roles. I plan to mentor students who come from similar backgrounds and show them that their dreams are valid and achievable, even when the odds are stacked against them. I’ve had moments where I felt discouraged, especially navigating financial struggles and immigration challenges, but I’ve pushed through and I want others to know they can too. After college, my mission is to combine my medical career with community outreach. I plan to host free health screenings, educational workshops, and mental health advocacy events, both locally and back home in Jamaica. I want to create safe spaces where people are seen, heard, and cared for. My goal isn’t just to succeed for myself, but to open doors for others along the way. This isn’t just a career path for me, it’s a calling. And I believe that when you pour into your community with intention, the impact creates ripples that extend far beyond what you can see. I want to be part of that wave of change.

I’m a pre-med student who is deeply passionate about neuroscience, mental health, and creating equitable access to healthcare. My journey hasn’t always been easy, but it has shaped me into someone who is resilient, driven, and committed to making a difference. I was born in Jamaica and moved to the United States recently, and although the transition was overwhelming at times, it opened my eyes to how healthcare access, education, and opportunities can vary so drastically depending on where you are born. That realization has become one of the main reasons why I want to pursue a career in medicine. One experience that shaped me early on was being part of Girls Guide back in high school. It was similar to Girl Scouts, but in my country, we focused heavily on community service and earning badges through acts of leadership, compassion, and teamwork. I remember organizing food drives, volunteering at shelters, and simply showing up for people who needed support. These moments taught me that being present for others, even in small ways, can create a ripple effect. I learned that service is not about how much you have to give, but about being willing to show up and use what you do have to make someone’s life a little better. I carry those same values with me today. I have always believed in uplifting others, especially those who are often overlooked or underestimated. As a Black woman in STEM, I’ve experienced what it feels like to be in spaces where you are not always seen or heard. Instead of letting that discourage me, I’ve chosen to let it motivate me. I want to create space for others like me to feel empowered and supported, especially in medicine where representation matters more than people often realize. My long-term goal is to become a neurologist and return to underserved communities, both in the U.S. and back home, to offer care that is culturally competent, affordable, and rooted in compassion. I want to bridge the gap between people and the care they deserve. I also hope to create programs focused on mental health education and advocacy in communities where it is often stigmatized or ignored. These goals are not just dreams for me, they are plans that I’m actively working toward every day. The degree I am pursuing is not just a means to an end, but a foundation for the impact I want to have. The education and training I receive will equip me with the knowledge, tools, and credibility I need to walk into spaces where change is needed and actually make it happen. I want to be more than just a doctor. I want to be an advocate, a mentor, and a voice for those who don’t always get the chance to speak up. In the future, I hope to return the support I’ve received by mentoring young students of color in STEM, building clinics in low-resource areas, and using my story to remind others that your circumstances do not define your potential. I know that with education, heart, and determination, I can turn my passion into purpose, and my purpose into impact.

Growing up, I found my sense of community through a group called Girls Guide in high school. It was kind of like Girl Scouts: we sold cookies, earned badges, and spent weekends organizing service projects to support people in need. At first, I joined because I thought it would be a fun way to meet people. I didn’t realize how much it would teach me about hope, resilience, and the strength of human connection. One of my most memorable experiences was when our group organized a donation drive for a local children’s home. We collected food, clothes, toys, and hygiene products, then visited the home to deliver the supplies and spend time with the kids. I remember being nervous at first, wondering if we were doing enough, or if what we brought would actually help. But when we got there and saw the kids’ faces light up, that nervousness disappeared. They were excited just to have someone show up and care. We played games, sang songs, and shared stories. And in those few hours, I realized how powerful small acts of kindness could be. It wasn’t about how much we had to give, it was about showing up, being present, and letting people know they weren’t forgotten. That’s what community is really about. Girls Guide taught me that when people come together with a shared purpose, they can make a real impact. It gave me hope that even in a world that sometimes feels cold or overwhelming, there are always people willing to help and I want to be one of them. Now, as I pursue a career in medicine, I carry those lessons with me. I want to be the kind of doctor who doesn’t just treat symptoms, but sees the whole person, someone who understands the importance of connection and compassion in healing. Being part of a community gave me that vision, and I know I’ll keep building on it in everything I do.

My passion for mental health is rooted in both personal experience and observation. Growing up, I watched the people around me silently carry the weight of unaddressed emotional trauma. In my own life, I experienced verbal abuse that made me question my worth and doubt my voice. Like many young Black women, I was taught to push through, to be strong, to survive, but not necessarily to heal. There was no open space to talk about mental health in my home or community. Instead, pain was normalized and dismissed. That silence was deafening, and it’s what sparked my desire to break cycles and start conversations. As I got older, I became more aware of the ways mental health is stigmatized, especially in communities of color. I realized how many people never seek help, not because they don’t need it, but because they don’t trust the systems in place to support them. I started asking myself: what would it look like if we created a mental health system that truly saw us, heard us, and served us? That question is what drives me today as I pursue a career in medicine, with the goal of becoming a neurologist and mental health advocate focused on trauma-informed care. I want to work at the intersection of brain health, emotional wellness, and cultural sensitivity. My long-term goal is to open a multidisciplinary clinic that offers both neurological treatment and mental health services in a setting where Black women and other underrepresented groups feel safe, understood, and respected. I believe true healing happens when we treat the whole person: mind, body, and spirit, and when we create space for people to feel seen in their full humanity. My academic journey has shaped my path in meaningful ways. Studying neuroscience has deepened my understanding of how trauma and chronic stress affect brain development, cognition, and behavior. At the same time, my lived experience has taught me that science alone isn’t enough, we also need empathy, advocacy, and representation. That’s why I’m committed to advancing diversity and inclusion in this field. Black voices are still underrepresented in mental health research, care, and leadership. I want to be part of changing that by not only becoming a physician but also mentoring others, leading community outreach programs, and working to dismantle bias in healthcare settings. Representation isn’t just about visibility, it’s about creating care models that reflect the needs of those who’ve been historically overlooked. Through my education and future work, I plan to uplift marginalized voices and create access to care that is culturally competent, trauma-informed, and rooted in equity. My passion for mental health is personal. It’s fueled by what I’ve lived through, what I’ve witnessed, and what I know needs to change. I’m committed to being part of that change, not just as a future doctor, but as an advocate, a leader, and a voice for healing in my community.

Healing Through Purpose While I wasn’t physically abused, I experienced verbal and emotional abuse from a parent when I was younger and, at times, I still do. Those words stayed with me long after they were spoken. They shaped how I saw myself, how I navigated relationships, and how I carried the weight of expectations and self-doubt. Being constantly criticized or spoken down to can be just as damaging as physical harm, especially when it comes from someone you’re supposed to trust. Growing up in that environment opened my eyes early to the deep emotional wounds that many people carry silently, especially Black women. It also made me realize how much our communities are in need of healing — not just physically, but emotionally and mentally. As I got older, I began to see how many women around me had similar stories: navigating pain behind closed doors, often unsupported and unheard. These experiences became the driving force behind my decision to pursue medicine, with the goal of becoming a neurologist who focuses on trauma-informed, culturally competent care. Through higher education, I want to gain not just the medical knowledge to diagnose and treat conditions, but also the communication and empathy skills to listen deeply. I want to understand how trauma — including verbal abuse — impacts the brain and nervous system over time. I’ve learned that many neurological issues are linked to chronic stress and emotional trauma, and too often, Black women’s pain is ignored or minimized in clinical settings. I want to be the kind of doctor who believes her patients the first time. Beyond clinical care, I also hope to improve the coordination between healthcare systems, mental health providers, and community organizations. Black women are often left to figure out healing on their own, and that needs to change. I want to help build programs that provide wraparound support — where medical treatment, therapy, and community resources work hand-in-hand. My long-term dream is to open a clinic that serves underserved communities, especially Black women who are dealing with the lasting effects of abuse, trauma, and generational pain. This scholarship would help lift some of the financial pressure that makes continuing this journey difficult. As an out-of-state student, tuition and living costs are already high, and every bit of support helps me stay focused on what really matters — becoming a physician who gives back, uplifts others, and advocates for real, lasting change. My experience with verbal abuse didn’t break me — it gave me a deeper understanding of the type of care so many people are missing. I want to help fill that gap. I want to be someone who listens, supports, and stands up for Black women in every room I enter — whether that’s a classroom, a clinic, or a community center.

My passion for medicine started with a fascination for the human brain. I was always amazed by how this one organ could control every single function in the body, from movement to memory. The more I learned, the more I realized how many people, especially in under-resourced communities, suffer from neurological conditions that go undiagnosed or untreated. That realization stuck with me. I knew I wanted to be part of the solution. I chose medicine because I want to become a neurologist who brings quality, compassionate care to the people who need it most. In the short term, I want to focus on completing my undergraduate education, gaining hands-on experience through internships, and building a strong academic foundation that will prepare me for medical school. Long term, my goal is to attend medical school and specialize in neurology. Eventually, I hope to return to my home country, Jamaica, and open a clinic focused on neurological health. I want to create a space where people not only receive proper care but also learn about their health in ways that are accessible, culturally sensitive, and empowering. Being an underrepresented minority in the STEM field definitely adds pressure. There have been times when I was the only Black woman in the room, and I could feel people questioning whether I belonged. It can be isolating, but it also pushes me to work harder and stand firm in my purpose. I want to be the kind of doctor that young Black girls can see and say, “If she can do it, so can I.” Representation matters, and I hope to be part of changing the face of medicine for the better. Financially, my journey has been challenging. Since I’ve only recently moved to the state I live in, I’m considered an out-of-state student, which means my tuition is much higher. My family is doing everything they can to help, but it’s still a struggle. The stress of trying to figure out how to afford school, books, and basic living expenses sometimes feels like another full-time job on top of being a student. This scholarship would make a huge difference. It would give me the financial stability to stay focused on my studies and clinical experience, rather than worrying about whether I can afford another semester. More importantly, it would remind me that people believe in my potential and want to invest in my future. That kind of support means everything. Medicine is not just a career for me, it’s my calling. I’m committed to using my education and experiences to uplift others, break down barriers in healthcare, and make space for more voices like mine in the field. With the help of this scholarship, I know I can move one step closer to that dream.

My personal background is rooted in resilience, faith, and a deep desire to make a difference. I was born and raised in Jamaica, where I learned the value of hard work from an early age. My family did not have much, but they gave me everything that mattered — love, support, and a belief that education could open doors to a better life. We often had to make things stretch, and we relied on creativity and resourcefulness to get by. I grew up understanding that the world does not always hand out opportunities fairly, especially for young Black girls like me, but that with enough determination, I could create my own. Moving to the United States recently was a huge shift. It opened up possibilities that I had only dreamed of back home, but it also introduced new challenges. One of the biggest struggles I have faced is the financial burden of being an out-of-state student. Because I have not lived here long enough to be considered in-state, my tuition is significantly higher than what my family can afford. This has placed an overwhelming amount of pressure on me to not only keep up with my academic responsibilities, but also to figure out how to make ends meet. Every semester becomes a puzzle of how to pay for classes, books, lab fees, and transportation. It is a constant juggling act, and some days feel heavier than others. Still, I have never let these struggles define my path. If anything, they have strengthened my sense of purpose. I am passionate about becoming a medical doctor because I want to help people in ways that go beyond the physical. I want to bring comfort, understanding, and education to those who are often overlooked by traditional healthcare systems. My interest in neurology developed after learning about how the brain functions and how little we truly know about it. What fascinated me the most was how disorders of the brain can affect everything from mobility to memory, yet many communities lack the resources to access proper neurological care. This is especially true in countries like mine, where health education and access are still limited. I want to become a neurologist who practices medicine with both knowledge and heart. I want to provide care that is rooted in empathy, especially for people who have been historically underserved. I have seen how cultural stigma and financial hardship prevent people from getting the help they need. In the future, I plan to return to Jamaica and open a clinic that offers affordable, specialized care for neurological conditions. I also want to be involved in health education programs that help communities better understand their own bodies and symptoms. For me, medicine is not just about treatment. It is about listening, advocating, and giving people the tools to take control of their health. Along this journey, I have faced more than just financial hardship. There have been moments when I felt like I did not belong in STEM spaces. I have walked into rooms where I was the only Black woman, where I felt underestimated before I even had a chance to speak. But instead of letting those moments shrink me, I used them as fuel. I reminded myself of all the people who would benefit from me pushing through — my family, my community, and future patients who need someone who understands both the science and the struggle. My lived experiences have taught me how to work under pressure, how to stay focused even when resources are limited, and how to speak up when something needs to change. These are the same qualities that will guide me as a future doctor. I know what it feels like to be overlooked and underestimated. I know what it means to struggle in silence. Because of that, I will bring not only skill, but also compassion, to my practice. Education is my way forward, but it is also the way I plan to give back. I want to mentor other young women who are interested in STEM, especially those who feel like they do not see themselves represented. I want to remind them that their background is not a limitation, it is a strength. Every challenge I have faced has made me more prepared to serve others with humility, patience, and purpose. This scholarship would not just help cover tuition. It would allow me to breathe a little easier and focus more on becoming the doctor I know I am meant to be. It would represent a step forward not just for me, but for every person who has ever felt that their dreams were too far out of reach. I am ready to prove that they are not. I want to mentor other young women who are interested in STEM, especially those who come from similar backgrounds. If my story can help someone else believe in their own potential, then every obstacle I have faced will have been worth it.

Climate change, pollution, and biodiversity loss are not just distant environmental problems. They are personal. They are local. They are happening around us every day, from the air we breathe to the food we eat. I do not believe that one person can fix everything, but I do believe that each of us has a role to play. And I’m committed to making my role meaningful, both through my education and the career path I’m building. I’ve always been deeply aware of how the environment shapes our lives, especially coming from a place like Jamaica, where natural beauty meets very real environmental challenges. The ocean is central to life in the Caribbean, but I’ve seen firsthand how rising sea levels and pollution are threatening communities, ecosystems, and livelihoods. I’ve also seen how people are affected by limited access to clean water, unpredictable weather patterns, and the loss of green spaces. It made me realize that environmental issues aren’t just about nature, they’re about people, health, and justice. My goal is to work in the field of medicine, but my commitment to the environment is tightly woven into that path. I want to be part of the growing movement of healthcare professionals who recognize that environmental health is public health. For example, I hope to support clean water initiatives, advocate for policies that limit air pollution in underserved neighborhoods, and work in spaces where environmental justice is centered as part of patient care. There’s no reason why our health systems should be disconnected from the health of our planet. Education plays a huge role in this. As I pursue my degree, I’ve made it a priority to study the relationship between climate change and human health. I’ve also been learning about sustainable practices within the medical field, like reducing plastic use in clinics, lowering hospital energy consumption, and rethinking waste management in healthcare settings. These strategies may seem small, but multiplied across systems and institutions, they can have a major impact. Outside of academics, I try to live by the values I believe in. I reuse and recycle, support local agriculture, and speak out about environmental issues in my community. But I also recognize that individual lifestyle changes are not enough. We need systemic change. We need innovation, policy reform, and leadership from people who are not afraid to challenge the status quo. I want to be one of those people. In the future, I hope to combine my passion for science and medicine with real-world environmental advocacy. Whether I’m working in underserved clinics, partnering with environmental organizations, or educating others about climate justice, I want to make it clear that protecting the planet and protecting people go hand in hand. To me, improving the environment isn’t just about saving the earth. It’s about protecting futures, especially for those who are most vulnerable. I’m ready to be part of that solution.

I want to become a medical doctor because I believe medicine is one of the most powerful ways to serve others. From a young age, I was drawn to how the human body works, but what truly captured my heart was the idea that doctors have the ability to bring understanding, comfort, and healing to people during their most vulnerable moments. As I learned more about the brain, my interest turned specifically to neurology. I became fascinated by how neurological disorders can impact someone’s entire life and how many of these conditions go undiagnosed or untreated, especially in underserved communities. This passion is deeply connected to my background. I was born in Jamaica and grew up seeing the gaps in healthcare, particularly when it came to access and education. Many people simply did not have the resources to understand what was happening to their bodies, let alone get the treatment they needed. That experience gave me a clear goal. I do not just want to become a doctor. I want to become a neurologist who brings knowledge and care to the communities that are often left behind. One day, I hope to return to Jamaica and contribute to building better healthcare systems for people who have been overlooked for too long. The path to this dream has not been easy. Financial challenges have been one of the biggest obstacles. I am currently considered an out-of-state student where I live, which means my tuition is much higher than I can afford. On top of that, preparing for medical school comes with a long list of additional expenses, from admissions tests and prep materials to application fees and travel costs. These financial barriers are real and stressful, and they sometimes make the dream feel far away. But I have learned how to stay focused, how to make the most of every opportunity, and how to push through even when things feel uncertain. I believe these struggles have shaped me into the kind of future doctor I want to be. They have taught me how to be resourceful, how to keep going despite obstacles, and how to understand the challenges my future patients may face. My goal is not only to treat people medically but also to meet them where they are, listen to them fully, and be a source of care that feels human and whole. The journey is tough, but it is worth it. I know that everything I have faced will only make me a better doctor.

I’m someone who’s always had questions, sometimes way too many, honestly. But growing up, those questions didn’t come with easy answers. I didn’t have a family of doctors or engineers or a stack of science kits waiting for me at home. My parents weren't from heavily educated backgrounds, so whenever I made a discovery or was curious about something, I didn't really have anyone to run to. What I had was curiosity, a drive to understand how things worked, and a deep desire to help the people around me. That’s what led me to STEM and, more specifically, to the field of medicine. One moment that truly sparked my passion happened during a high school biology class in the 9th grade when we were learning about the human brain. We watched a documentary about people recovering from traumatic brain injuries. One patient was slowly relearning how to walk and speak, and something about that stuck with me. I was fascinated by how the brain could literally rewire itself to adapt and heal. I started researching neurological disorders on my own, reading case studies, and watching surgeries online (even when I probably shouldn't have at 2am). It became more than just interest; it became my purpose. That moment, combined with my own background, solidified my goal of becoming a neurologist. I’m originally from Jamaica, and I've seen how many people in underserved communities go years without being properly diagnosed or treated, especially for neurological conditions. In many places, these illnesses are misunderstood or even ignored. I want to change that. I want to become the kind of doctor who not only understands the science but also understands the patient: culturally, emotionally, and personally. I hope that someday after completing my necessary education, I can go back to my country and be of help to my community. Of course, my path hasn’t been without struggle. I’m currently classified as an out-of-state student, which makes my tuition significantly more expensive. My family works hard, but affording tuition, textbooks, and lab materials and preparing for medical school has been and will be overwhelming. Still, I refuse to let finances stop me from pursuing what I know I’m meant to do. Being a young Black woman in STEM, I’ve learned how to keep showing up in rooms that weren’t built for me. But I also know that my story, my background, and my resilience are exactly what make me strong enough to succeed and, one day, to give back.

Weird stares. Raised eyebrows. And the ever-present “Huh? What does that even mean?”, those are the kinds of reactions I’ve gotten whenever I tell people what I want to do. As a young Black woman from a minority background, I’ve often felt overlooked or underestimated when I say I want to be part of the STEM field especially when I mention that my dream is to become a neurologist. It’s a field that’s still so male-dominated, and for people like me, the path is full of doubt from others before you even get a chance to prove yourself. But I’ve always been fascinated by the brain, how it works, how it controls every part of us, and how little we truly understand about it. My goal to become a neurologist isn’t just about my own curiosity; it’s about making a difference. Growing up, I saw how neurological disorders often go undiagnosed or untreated in places like my home country, Jamaica, simply because people don’t have access to proper knowledge or care. I want to change that. I want to get the education and training I need so I can return to Jamaica and help build the kind of healthcare system that people there deserve, one where everyone, regardless of background or income, can get the help they need. That goal, however, doesn’t come without major challenges. One of the biggest ones I’m facing right now is financial. As someone who’s considered “out of state” in the place I currently live, my tuition is significantly higher than what my family can afford. Every semester feels like a financial battle trying to find ways to cover tuition, let alone study materials, application fees, and eventually test prep for things like the MCAT. I work hard, but sometimes it feels like the system is already built against me. Receiving this scholarship would truly be life changing. It would help close the gap between what I have and what I need, and it would allow me to focus more on my academics and less on the constant stress of whether or not I can afford to stay in school. It would mean I could afford the resources I need to study effectively, apply to the programs that align with my goals, and move one step closer to becoming the neurologist I’ve dreamed of becoming for so long. But this scholarship isn’t just an investment in me, it’s an investment in what I plan to give back. I’m passionate about mentorship, especially for young girls like me who might be scared to take up space in STEM. I want to be that voice that says “You belong here.” Eventually, I want to create programs back home that offer free workshops and resources for students interested in science and medicine, because no one should have to shrink their dreams just because they can’t afford the path. STEM needs more voices like mine. More stories like mine. And with support like this scholarship, I’ll be able to walk that path with confidence, knowing I’m not just working for myself but for everyone who comes after me.