Recently, as I was helping my family go through our belongings in our storage unit, I found notecards from a speech I had to give in third grade. It was a simple assignment, we had to introduce ourselves, our family members, and what we wanted to be when we grew up. When I got to the last section, I was surprised to see that I had written, "when I grow up, I want to be a scientist". I was speaking something powerful into existence with my eight year old mouth that was still missing teeth. I hadn't finished growing, let alone growing up, and I knew what I was going to become. I think if third grade me had seen what the actual pathway was going to look like for us to get there, she would have been a little more hesitant to give that speech. There’s been a lot of overlap in my struggles being a low income black student going into a male-dominated sector. I have sacrificed my money, my patience, my sleep, my mental and physical health while under the pressure of being expected to perform well. All of the issues I have had culminate to one question: are you capable of handling this? This has been asked of me genuinely, aggressively, and indirectly. I have had to consistently prove my worth to my professors and peers through my intellect at a predominantly white institution. I also have had to prove that I am someone in need and someone worth investing in by my institution every semester while I was drowning in outstanding balances. Trying to exist in a state of imbalance – proving your capability and proving the existence of roadblocks that bar you from accessing your full potential – is the reality for many women of color like me trying to make it in science. Imposter syndrome becomes synonymous with your own name, and your failures are weaponized to prove that you and your people are not worthy of the space you take up. I do acknowledge that there was some naivety I possessed about the things I would have to experience in order to get where I am today. Third grade Raegan was a little black girl reaching for stars without seeing the glass ceilings she would cut herself on. However, I realized that the third grade black girl that I forgot about never lost sight of me and shaped herself to get ready for this point. Third grade Raegan was playing baseball with the boys and learning how to advocate for herself. Third grade Raegan was always reading, always looking for something to discover even when she was told her successes were not based on merit but diversity quotas. Her decisions to excel in disparity have shaped me into the scientist I am today. If third grade me could see me and the weight of everything I have carried and fought through, she would think I was a superhero. Whenever I’m questioning my positions as a student leader in STEM at my college, I think about the little black girl that is standing in a classroom full of her white peers and boldly claiming what she is working towards. She had the gumption to give herself the gift of a self-fulfilling prophecy, and I am reaping the benefits of her decision. She had made the most influential decision of her life, and I am so grateful for her now. I will never forget the parts of her that still live in me today.