A first-generation college student evidently comes with uncharted territory - another obstacle during the college application process. My mother, who did not have the opportunity to fulfill her dream of attending and graduating from college, heavily instilled in me the importance of education. Even as a three year old, she would fry eggs on Sundays as I paced nearby, speeding through the numbers one through a hundred, the same true for the alphabet. However, now I am completely on my own as she does not have all the answers anymore. Despite being from a lower middle class family, my ambitions are quite expensive and extensive. An aspiring cardiac surgeon, I plan to extend quality healthcare to underserved populations. I am fortunate enough to attend college at all, and there are many who fall short due to their individual monetary situations. Nevertheless, healthcare is a fundamental right (so is education) that should be a lot more accessible than it is. As a first-generation student, I’ve learned just how important self-advocacy and tenacity are. These values are not only integral to medical professions but can be applicable to any community. Among these vital lessons, I’ve also gathered the significance of representation. My commitment to becoming a surgeon is backed by the desire to serve as a role model for those who aren’t from traditionally wealthy families. I want them to understand that an average brown girl like me can absolutely break free from cultural and financial bounds - I want to set an example for our descendants. The various positions I hold in school extracurriculars and volunteer work have only deepened the motivation to give back to those who lack resources. In summary, being a first-generation college student has strengthened my work ethic and my wish to employ my hard-earned degree to ameliorate the struggles of underprivileged communities in the realm of healthcare.

Dear Rimsha, I’m you from July 2024. I hope the future is treating you well. I may be arrogant to assume, but I imagine that we have hit most of the milestones by now; accepted into a prestigious university by 2025; graduated by 2029; and currently enrolled in a top-notch medical school. How did we pay for all that? Were our prayers answered with scholarships galore, or did we rely on scam student loans granted by the banks? We never did like the idea of depending on loans - damned compound interest. Is our family proud? Have we done a sufficient job of being a role model to our younger cousins - to Aleezeh? Does she still look up to us? And how are our parents? Their health? Do they need us to become doctors sooner rather than later? I know there’s a lot of pressure on us to act on our medical dreams, from both ourselves and our family. From society. Though we love being a Pakistani woman, it comes with its cons. For example, many of our typical aunties assume that after high school or two years in a basic community college, we should be married off to a spoiled, lazy mama’s boy whose beard cannot connect for the life of him. Because that’s just what our life’s purpose is - wasting away in the kitchen and dusting away in the rooms and swaying away the crying children - all spent within the confines of a home that, after a while, begins to resemble a large prison cell. We’ve seen this, and that’s why we’re hellbent on protecting ourselves from the same fate our lineage of women have resigned themselves to. And we know deep down that if they had options to select from, the course of their lives would have been much different. Rimsha, we have been given a chance to break the chain. To make our mother’s sacrifices mean something. To build our legacy; not as women who suffered abuses at the hands of a man, chosen by her illiterate elders, but as women who suffered loads of schoolwork and sleepless nights of studying at the hands of an institution, chosen by us. For once, Rimsha, we control what happens. We can rewrite the stars - make them align - in our favor. And that is why I have no doubt in my mind that, granted we chose a long, rigorous path to conquer, we delivered desirable results. We are at no one’s mercy but our own. We are free and ambitious - and most of all, powerful. Yours truly (quite literally), Rimsha Abbasi