In one shift, we responded to three overdoses. I administered the Narcan each time—“One milliliter in each nostril,” I reminded myself as my partner set up oxygen to assist with ventilations. Each patient, unconscious and unresponsive, reflected a public health emergency unfolding before our eyes. That shift opened my eyes to the opioid crisis plaguing our communities and stirred a desire in me to learn more about how I could be part of the solution—not only in emergency response, but also in prevention, recovery, and long-term care. That experience inspired me to pursue a research internship at Bellevue Hospital, specializing in screening patients in the emergency department for substance use and providing brief interventions and referrals to treatment. I hoped this position would allow me to engage with patients on a deeper level and equip me with tools to support those struggling with addiction beyond the scope of emergency medicine. Each day, I met patients facing withdrawal symptoms—grimacing in pain, rocking back and forth, curled in fetal positions. These scenes were difficult to witness, but they strengthened my resolve. I knew I wanted to be more than just a stop along their care journey—I wanted to be a partner in their recovery. To build trust with patients, I knelt beside their beds and spoke to them at eye level. Conversations often began with hesitation and guardedness, but slowly, with empathy and patience, barriers dissolved. I offered not only Narcan and treatment referrals across New York’s five boroughs, but something more meaningful: a safe, judgment-free space. Many of these patients had been dismissed or shamed by the healthcare system. I wanted them to feel heard. Through these moments, I came to understand that healing often starts not with prescriptions, but with human connection. My experience with mental health and substance use disorders has profoundly shaped how I see my role as a future physician. I’ve learned that addiction is not a failure of character, but a complex medical and psychological issue that must be treated with empathy and continuity. Rather than simply referring patients to specialists, I want to be involved in their long-term treatment and recovery—walking with them through setbacks, progress, and everything in between. Internal medicine appeals to me for that reason: it allows for longitudinal relationships and holistic care, especially for patients whose needs are deeply intertwined with mental health. These experiences have also enhanced my interpersonal relationships. I’ve become a better listener, more patient, and more open to vulnerability—both mine and others’. They’ve made me someone who leads with compassion, not just competence. In the ED, I once comforted John, an 80-year-old patient with paralysis who broke down in frustration after being told there were no available wheelchairs. He was ready to leave against medical advice. After sitting with him, offering him water, and listening to his fears, he agreed to wait for the physical therapist. “Thank you for listening,” he said. “I wish you were my daughter.” That moment reminded me how powerful empathy can be in guiding someone toward healthier decisions. Becoming a physician means I can continue to build trust with patients like John, like those I met at Bellevue, and those I responded to on that shift filled with overdoses. It means I can be a team leader and advocate, someone who treats not only illnesses, but people—especially those often overlooked. Mental health work has taught me that presence, patience, and purpose can transform lives. I intend to dedicate my career to embodying those values.

I am the daughter of Arab American Muslim immigrants, raised in a household where the scent of cardamom tea mixed with the rhythm of Arabic prayers and where caregiving was second nature—not an obligation, but a form of love. In my family, you show up for one another. You drop everything when someone is sick, when they’re scared, when they’re in need. That value was instilled in me from a young age, and it has shaped every part of who I am and who I hope to become. When my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer, I was still trying to find my footing as a student. Suddenly, I was helping manage her appointments, comforting my younger siblings, and staying up late to study between hospital visits. It was one of the hardest times of my life—and yet, it clarified everything. I wasn’t just learning to survive stress. I was learning how to care deeply, how to advocate fiercely, and how to balance complexity with compassion. That experience didn’t just shape me—it set the foundation for my calling in medicine. I’ve always been drawn to stories, especially the ones that go unheard—patients who are dismissed because of how they speak, look, or pray. That’s why I became an EMT, why I volunteered with organizations like Healing the Vote, and why I’ve centered my research on health disparities in Alzheimer’s disease among African American women. These aren’t just projects or lines on a résumé. They’re reflections of my belief that everyone deserves to be seen, heard, and cared for with dignity. As a Muslim woman, I’ve had to navigate spaces where my identity made me feel invisible—or too visible in the wrong way. But those experiences taught me resilience. They taught me how to take up space with intention, how to speak up even when my voice shakes, and how to lead from a place of empathy. In college, I served as a Dialogue Across Differences facilitator, creating space for conversations about race, religion, and inequity. That role helped me see that change doesn’t always come from shouting—it comes from listening, from patience, and from the courage to show up again and again. Now, as a medical assistant at an infusion clinic and a continuing researcher in the field of brain health, I feel a deep sense of purpose. Every interaction, every patient, every data point is a reminder of why I’m on this journey to medical school. I’ve seen the power of listening and the harm of neglect. I’ve seen what happens when providers don’t reflect the communities they serve—and I’m determined to be part of the change. My story is one of faith, family, and fierce dedication to others. I carry the lessons of my upbringing, the weight of my community’s hopes, and the belief that I am here to make a difference—not just in exam rooms, but in every space I enter. Medicine is not just a career to me—it is the natural continuation of the care, advocacy, and purpose I’ve lived every day.

As an Arab American Muslim, caregiving is not just an act of service—it is an expression of love, duty, and faith. In my community, family is central to identity, and caring for one another is seen as a moral obligation. I grew up watching my mother tend to our family’s needs with grace and resilience, and when she was diagnosed with breast cancer, I stepped into a caregiving role without hesitation. Balancing that responsibility with academic and work commitments was one of the most formative challenges of my life, and it has deeply shaped my path toward a career in medicine. At times, the pressure was immense. I was juggling demanding coursework, volunteering, and working part-time—all while helping care for my mother and supporting my younger siblings emotionally and academically. There were days I studied for exams in hospital waiting rooms, nights I coordinated rides to appointments around my work shifts, and moments I felt stretched thin, yet determined to hold everything together. In those moments, I learned the true meaning of sacrifice and discipline. I also learned how healthcare decisions are rarely made in isolation—they affect families, cultures, and entire support systems. That experience gave me a unique lens through which I view medicine. I came to understand that caregiving is not separate from health—it is health. Caregivers often bear invisible burdens, and cultural values like mine are not always acknowledged in clinical spaces. I want to become a physician who not only treats the patient but also recognizes and supports the caregivers standing behind them. This perspective is especially critical when caring for patients from immigrant, religious, and minority communities who often rely on strong family structures to navigate illness and healing. My caregiving journey also strengthened my empathy, time management, and emotional endurance. These skills carried over into my work as an EMT and now as a medical assistant in an infusion clinic, where I frequently connect with patients and their families navigating long-term illness. I understand their exhaustion, their fears, and their quiet strength because I’ve lived it too. Rather than seeing caregiving as a detour or obstacle, I see it as the heart of why I want to pursue medicine. It taught me to meet others where they are, to honor cultural values in healthcare, and to find purpose in presence—even when there are no easy answers. Balancing caregiving and work has not been easy, but it has clarified my career goals. I aspire to become a physician who practices patient- and family-centered care, with a deep commitment to health equity, cultural humility, and compassionate listening. I want to advocate for caregivers, ensuring they are included in care plans and supported as vital members of the healing process. My goal is to embody the values that have guided my own life—service, empathy, and steadfast dedication to others. In my community, caregiving is not an inconvenience—it is an honor. That belief has been my compass, and it continues to shape the physician I hope to become: one who sees the whole person, the whole family, and the whole story.

I am worth the dreams I aspire to achieve because my journey has never been just about me. Rather, my journey has been about the many communities I represent—communities too often unheard or overlooked in medicine and research. Growing up, I rarely saw physicians or scientists who looked like me, who shared my cultural values or understood the unspoken nuances of my lived experience. This absence wasn’t just disheartening—it had real consequences for patients like my family members, who faced language barriers, cultural misunderstandings, and systemic inequities. It was through volunteering that I found the power in presence and the impact of advocacy. My volunteer work has grounded me in service. Whether I was organizing food drives, helping refugees access healthcare, or engaging in voter registration with Healing the Vote to highlight how civic participation affects health outcomes, I began to understand health as more than a clinical issue—it’s a social, cultural, and political one. Working closely with underserved populations, I listened to people who had long been ignored by the healthcare system. I realized that compassion, consistency, and cultural understanding could make a profound difference in someone’s experience of care. These experiences weren’t just emotionally moving; they were formative. They taught me that representation in medicine isn’t symbolic—it’s necessary. Patients feel safer, more understood, and more willing to trust the system when they see themselves reflected in their providers. In research, diverse perspectives ensure that the questions being asked, and the solutions being explored, are relevant to those most affected by health disparities. Through my Alzheimer’s disease research in African American populations and my continued work in an infusion clinic, I’ve seen how critical it is to address both the biological and social determinants of health—something that cannot be done without intentional inclusivity. I know that entering the field of medicine as someone from an underrepresented background is not easy. But I also know that my lived experiences, cultural insight, and commitment to justice equip me to lead with empathy and create change from within. I aspire to be the physician who not only provides excellent clinical care but also advocates for systemic reform, conducts research that centers marginalized voices, and mentors future generations of students who, like me, once doubted whether they belonged. I am worth the dreams I aspire to achieve because I have already committed my life to service, to listening, and to lifting others as I climb. My dream of becoming a physician is not about personal prestige; it’s about purpose. I see medicine not just as a profession, but as a platform to restore dignity, rebuild trust, and reimagine equity. I am ready to take on that responsibility—because my community needs me, and because I have prepared to show up for them, every step of the way.

I have always been drawn to medicine, but my journey toward becoming a physician has been shaped by both passion and adversity. My desire to pursue this path stems from my experiences as an EMT, a medical assistant, and a researcher focused on health disparities. However, the obstacles I have faced—both personal and financial—have given me a deeper understanding of resilience and shaped my commitment to patient-centered care. Coming from a family that faced financial instability, I understood early on that pursuing medicine would not be an easy road. Unlike many of my peers, I had to balance multiple jobs alongside my education, often making difficult decisions between work, studying, and extracurricular involvement. While others focused solely on academics, I worked long shifts to support myself and my family. These challenges made me doubt whether medical school was within my reach, but they also reinforced my determination. Each hurdle I faced only strengthened my resolve to advocate for patients who experience similar struggles navigating the healthcare system. Beyond financial challenges, my own battle with mental health has profoundly shaped my perspective on medicine. I struggled with extreme anxiety and depression for years, hesitant to seek help due to stigma and self-doubt. When I finally reached out to my university’s counseling center, I learned the value of comprehensive, compassionate care. Therapy and medication helped me regain control over my life, and now, in my fifth year of recovery, I am committed to ensuring that no patient feels the same hesitation and isolation that I once did. My experiences have taught me the importance of addressing both physical and mental health, particularly for underserved communities where stigma and access remain significant barriers to care. As a future physician, I want to use my background to bridge gaps in healthcare. My work in women’s health advocacy and Alzheimer’s disease research has reinforced the need for physicians who understand the intersectionality of medicine, mental health, and social determinants of health. I hope to bring not only medical expertise but also empathy and lived experience into my practice. Having faced financial hardship, I will be attuned to the struggles of patients who delay care due to cost. Having navigated my own mental health challenges, I will approach patients with understanding rather than judgment. Despite the obstacles, my journey has prepared me for the demands of medicine in ways that extend beyond textbooks and clinical experience. It has taught me resilience, adaptability, and the power of compassionate care. I know that my struggles will allow me to connect with patients on a deeper level, advocating for them in ways that only someone who has faced adversity truly can. My path to medicine has not been easy, but it has shaped me into a future physician who is ready to fight for health equity, patient dignity, and a system that serves everyone—regardless of their circumstances.

The first time I transported a psychiatric patient as an EMT, I witnessed firsthand how easily individuals in vulnerable situations are misunderstood and underserved by the healthcare system. The patient, visibly distressed, had been labeled as “uncooperative” in the emergency department, but after a few minutes of genuine conversation, she shared her fears of being hospitalized against her will. That moment reinforced the importance of empathy, communication, and patient-centered care—values that continue to shape my path toward medicine. My experiences in healthcare have solidified my desire to become an internal medicine physician with a focus on health equity. Whether working in emergency medicine, infusion therapy, or Alzheimer’s disease research, I have seen the ways in which socioeconomic barriers, systemic biases, and gaps in preventive care disproportionately affect marginalized communities. My work in women’s health advocacy, particularly in breast cancer education, has shown me how delays in screenings and treatment are often not due to lack of concern, but to financial, cultural, and systemic obstacles. Likewise, my research on Alzheimer’s disease disparities has deepened my understanding of how social determinants of health shape long-term outcomes, particularly in underrepresented communities. These experiences fuel my commitment to addressing the root causes of health inequities rather than simply treating their consequences. One area where I see a critical need for intervention is the intersection of addiction medicine and cancer care. Substance use disorders (SUDs) are a significant but often overlooked risk factor for cancer, with alcohol and tobacco use contributing to high rates of preventable malignancies. Yet, individuals with SUDs frequently experience delayed cancer diagnoses, inadequate pain management, and stigma that affects their care. I want to bridge this gap by integrating addiction screening and treatment into oncology, ensuring that patients receive comprehensive and compassionate care. By combining my clinical skills with public health advocacy, I aim to implement preventive strategies that address both addiction and cancer risk, particularly in communities where healthcare disparities are most pronounced. Beyond clinical practice, I am committed to using my platform to drive systemic change. As a future physician, I plan to advocate for policies that expand access to preventive care, increase funding for community health initiatives, and integrate addiction treatment into routine medical care. I also want to contribute to research that explores how social, biological, and behavioral factors intertwine in chronic disease progression, ensuring that future medical interventions are tailored to the diverse needs of patients. My journey to medicine has been shaped by a desire to make healthcare more equitable, holistic, and humane. From my early experiences as an EMT to my work in research and advocacy, I have seen the power of compassionate care and the profound impact of addressing health disparities at their source. I plan to carry these lessons forward, using my medical career to uplift underserved communities, challenge systemic barriers, and ultimately improve the lives of those who need it most.

My career goal is to become an internal medicine physician dedicated to advancing health equity through patient-centered care, research, and advocacy. I am particularly interested in the intersection of addiction medicine and cancer care, as substance use disorders (SUDs) significantly impact cancer risk, treatment adherence, and long-term outcomes. Despite well-established links between tobacco, alcohol, and cancer, addiction remains an often-overlooked factor in cancer prevention and management. Addressing this gap is essential to improving patient care, particularly for vulnerable populations. Patients with substance use disorders not only face a higher risk of developing cancer but also encounter barriers to treatment, including stigma, inadequate pain management due to opioid concerns, and lower adherence to follow-up care. I want to bridge this gap by integrating addiction medicine into oncology, ensuring that patients receive holistic, compassionate, and evidence-based care. By incorporating addiction screening and treatment into cancer prevention strategies, we can reduce cancer incidence and improve long-term outcomes, especially in marginalized communities. As addiction medicine and oncology continue to intersect, I believe there is a pressing need for interdisciplinary collaboration between addiction specialists, oncologists, and primary care physicians. I aspire to contribute to research that explores the biological and behavioral links between substance use and cancer progression, as well as advocate for policies that integrate addiction treatment into oncology care. By addressing addiction as both a risk factor and a complicating factor in cancer treatment, I hope to improve patient outcomes, reduce health disparities, and help build a healthcare system that treats both conditions with the urgency they deserve.

Breast health education is not just a cause I support—it’s a deeply personal mission. When my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer, my family’s world changed overnight. I watched her endure the physical toll of treatment, the uncertainty of each test result, and the emotional weight of a disease that affects millions of women. Through it all, I saw firsthand how critical early detection and access to healthcare are in fighting breast cancer. However, I also realized that many women, especially those from underserved communities, lack the information, resources, and support to prioritize their breast health. This experience shaped my passion for women’s advocacy and reinforced my commitment to ensuring that all women, regardless of socioeconomic status or background, have the knowledge and tools to take control of their health. In my advocacy work, I have encountered women who delay or avoid screenings due to financial barriers, cultural stigmas, or misinformation. Many fear that a diagnosis would mean a death sentence, unaware that early detection significantly increases survival rates. Others struggle with systemic obstacles—lack of insurance, distrust in the medical system, or not having a healthcare provider who takes the time to educate them about preventive care. These gaps in awareness and access are unacceptable, and they drive me to advocate for change. The statistics are alarming. Black and Hispanic women are more likely to be diagnosed at later stages of breast cancer, leading to higher mortality rates. This disparity is not simply a matter of biology; it’s a consequence of systemic inequities in healthcare. Limited access to screenings, delayed diagnoses, and financial barriers all contribute to these poorer outcomes. Too often, breast cancer education is treated as a privilege rather than a right, leaving many women without the resources they need to detect the disease early. As a future physician, I am committed to bridging this gap. Education is one of the most powerful tools in the fight against breast cancer, and I want to ensure that every woman—regardless of her background—understands the importance of self-exams, mammograms, and early intervention. Whether through community outreach programs, patient education initiatives, or public health campaigns, I want to make breast health information accessible, culturally competent, and free of fear or stigma. I believe that doctors have a responsibility to not only treat illness but to prevent it, and that starts with empowering patients through knowledge. Beyond education, I am passionate about advocating for systemic changes that make preventive care more accessible. I want to work toward policies that provide funding for free or low-cost mammograms, expand patient navigation programs to help women overcome logistical and financial barriers, and increase representation in breast cancer research to ensure that treatment and prevention strategies address diverse populations. My mother’s journey taught me resilience, but it also ignited a sense of responsibility within me. No woman should lose her life to breast cancer simply because she lacked access to the right information or care. Through my medical career and advocacy, I will continue fighting for a future where breast cancer awareness isn’t just a campaign in October but a year-round, life-saving commitment to women’s health.

I am deeply passionate about addressing health disparities, both locally and globally. My research, clinical experiences, and advocacy work have reinforced my commitment to tackling inequities in healthcare access and outcomes, particularly for marginalized communities. Through my Alzheimer’s disease research in the African American community, I have explored how socioeconomic and biological factors contribute to disproportionate disease risk. This work has not only led to a first-author publication and multiple poster presentations but has also given me insight into the structural barriers that prevent equitable healthcare. My findings have reinforced the importance of culturally competent care, early intervention, and the need for targeted public health initiatives to address chronic disease disparities. Clinically, my experiences as an EMT and medical assistant have allowed me to witness firsthand how social determinants of health shape patient outcomes. I have transported patients struggling with psychiatric conditions who lacked proper mental health resources and cared for individuals at the infusion clinic who faced financial and logistical challenges in receiving their treatments. These encounters strengthened my commitment to patient-centered care and highlighted the urgent need for healthcare systems that prioritize accessibility and inclusivity. Beyond the local scope, my global experiences in India, Belize, and Nepal have further broadened my perspective on healthcare disparities. In Nepal, working with the Kevin Rohan Memorial Eco Foundation (KRMEF), I saw how sustainable, community-driven healthcare initiatives can address systemic challenges in resource-limited settings. KRMEF’s model, which emphasizes solutions that come from and serve the community, reinforced my belief that healthcare should be both equitable and sustainable. Similarly, in Belize, I explored disparities in maternal healthcare among Indigenous communities, learning about the critical role midwives play in bridging gaps in medical care. These experiences have deepened my understanding of how cultural humility and sustainable healthcare models can be implemented in underserved populations. As a future physician, I want to integrate my research, advocacy, and clinical skills to create tangible change. I envision working to improve healthcare access through policy initiatives, ensuring that systemic barriers—such as financial constraints, transportation issues, and cultural stigmas—do not prevent individuals from receiving the care they need. Additionally, I plan to advocate for sustainable healthcare solutions that empower communities to take an active role in their well-being, whether through public health programs, education, or policy reform. Ultimately, I want to use my medical education to bridge the gap between research, clinical care, and community engagement. My goal is not only to treat patients but to be part of a larger movement toward equitable, patient-centered, and sustainable healthcare. Whether addressing health disparities in my local community or working on global health initiatives, I am committed to ensuring that high-quality care is accessible to all.