I was supposed to be a doctor. From the moment I was born, my dad had a toy medical kit waiting, hoping I’d complete his unfulfilled ambition by being a doctor, though his father pressured him to be an engineer. At one point, I believed it was my dream, though I kicked and cried at every pediatric appointment. So when adults asked, “What do you want to be when you grow up,” my dad and I would instantaneously reply, “Doctor!” Since my 3rd-grade engineering class, I counted the hours until the best part of my day. One day in 5th grade, my engineering teacher Mrs. Nimer finally noticed me. She rotated my group's final project in her hands with a smile. The solution to our semester-long project is a cardboard box utilizing the polarity of two magnet strips to hover in midair. The idea deftly took me 15 minutes to draft and execute since the polarization of two magnets was the only answer. Mrs. Nimer took me aside. “You should think about this as a career.” I was thrilled. Not only did we get praised, but I found something I enjoyed and it wasn't medicine. I sat deep in thought for my following period thinking, “I wish I could do this for the rest of my life.” The little voice in my head piped up. “You can!” Engineering taught me the joy of solving complex problems by designing innovative solutions from scratch. Since high school, I’ve developed my skills through industry-based certifications (IBCs) in Inventor, Fusion 360, and FAA Part 107, and I expect my Solidworks and Python IBCs by the end of May. In addition, through NASA’s High School Aerospace Program, I gained experience in research and space development as my team and I designed a custom lunar rover for our final research project. Furthermore, we were extended the invitation to Johnson Space Center in Houston to witness firsthand the developments at JSC. As we toured Mission Control, I was in awe of how I was standing in the room where people operated the International Space Station from the ground. Witnessing the employees talk about space, Artemis, Mars missions, and contribution to NASA, I could only imagine how lucky I would be to work alongside them. My biggest fear when I was younger was choosing a career and realizing my passion was a phase that soon dissipated. The more I’ve grown as an engineer, the more I’ve witnessed the endlessness of engineering. I chose my path because I knew whether 10, 25, or even 50 years down the line, I could have the same child-like fascination as I did in 5th grade. I would be happy and satisfied knowing my life pursuit was an aspect I could foster and grow.

The biggest challenge in my life wasn’t gaining my industry-based certificates after three long years, balancing NASA’s HAS program on top of SAT prep, or even telling my dad that I didn’t want to fulfill his dream of being a doctor; it was coming to terms that I earned my success. Since I was 10, I knew I was born to be an engineer. In my last semester project for Engineering, my classmates and I were tasked to build a hovercraft from cardboard and magnet strips. Almost instantly, I understood the only way to make the cart float was to utilize the polarity of the magnets. My engineering teacher Mrs. Nimer stood in awe, rotating the project in her hands. “I don’t think I’ve had someone finish this that quick; you should really think about being an engineer,” Mrs. Nimer told me. Since that moment, I thought only God could give me my knack for problem-solving and creativity in engineering. Though I was indifferent about what to achieve, the uncertainty pushed me to explore. During the pandemic in freshman year, my classmates and I were introduced to 3D modeling software: Onshape, Fusion 360, and Inventor. I was addicted to the feeling of success when my friends and I got certified in Inventor, Fusion, and Part 107 for drone flight. Meanwhile, in my spare time, I dedicated hours at Crossview church as a musician, preschool teacher, audio/visual personnel, and event coordinator for the youth team. My involvement in volunteering taught me the value of achieving something bigger than myself outside of my STEM ambitions. Furthermore, during my junior year in NASA’s HAS program and invitation to Johnson Space Center, I was surrounded by ambitious people. Their dreams, hopes, and passions were contagious and I dreamed I, like them, could work at NASA. Even with our accomplishments, my friends and I were tested on our resilience as we poured our hearts into college applications. My friends and I were accepted into the university while our male peers were deferred. Our engineering teacher was thrilled as the people accepted were the girls in his engineering class, but our male counterparts were irritated. A few retaliated to our success by making sly remarks and hurtful comments, claiming we lied about our acceptance and made it because we were girls. Any self-confidence I had was replaced with doubt because I slowly started to internalize those comments. In hindsight, this pivotal moment is where I could finally recognize and appreciate my growth and the progress of minorities in STEM. Is it too much that we, as a woman and as minorities, let our achievements speak for themselves? I neither need nor want an advantage in my field. All I can do is continue to pursue my childhood dream and avoid the little voices that seek to belittle me. In the future, I hope I can encourage women in my position that our gender doesn’t give us an advantage, our achievements will speak for themselves.