I blame my calling to healthcare on Doc McStuffins herself, the 6-year-old girl who served as an amazing, compassionate doctor for toys in her playhouse clinic, alongside her hippo nurse, Hallie. The Disney Jr show lured me in every afternoon, leading me to beg my parents for my very own Doc McStuffins hospital bag set. Performing check-ups on my stuffed animals and Barbie dolls, curing my little sister’s fake “boo-boos,” and singing to make my “patients” feel comfortable, I developed a love for nurturing and healing at a young age. Not only was the show whimsical and fun, but Doc was a young Black girl being raised in a Black family, with a pediatrician for a mother. How many cartoons are there portraying an all-Black family? Very few, and the amount portraying Black women in a medical career is even less. As I educated myself, learning more about the nursing profession from my mother and my high school career fair keynote speaker, the health disparities that affect BIPOC individuals, especially the Black population, became apparent. My brain craves science and solving puzzles, my tender heart yearns to nurture, and nursing calls me to use these qualities and advocate for my community. My professional goal is to earn my MSN and become a Women’s Health or Pediatric Nurse Practitioner, focusing my practice and research on minority patients, especially those who identify as Black. Statistics show that Black women experience higher maternal mortality rates and are at a higher risk of postpartum depression compared to other demographics. This unfortunate reality is what draws me towards labor and delivery nursing. While pregnancy is beautiful, it can also be dangerous, but it should never be dangerous because of patient neglect. Time and time again, Black women’s concerns are overlooked, symptoms are ignored, and pain is not fully treated. For me, being a nurse means being an advocate and ensuring everyone is treated with the inherent human dignity that we were all born with. Recently, I volunteered at the Sister 2 Sister Hartford Health Initiative Health and Wellness Community fair, which provided free mammograms and health screenings, addressing high breast cancer rates in women of color. As a WHNP, my goal would be to open a clinic in my home, NYC, caring for and educating women from adolescence through adulthood, and going out into the community to provide free preventive, reproductive, and obstetric care for those who cannot afford regular visits to a hospital or clinic. There would be an emphasis, however, on being a haven for Black women, and I hope to employ BIPOC healthcare professionals. I applied for the honors program at my university, and if accepted, my research thesis will be focused on the issue of Black maternal mortality rates, postpartum mental health, adultification of Black girls, as well as the stigma around mental health conversations in Black households and how that affects us from childhood through adulthood. The issues that we as Black women experience do not magically appear; they stem from childhood due to our devaluing within flawed systems. We cannot improve our health outcomes unless we are actively immersing ourselves within the very systems causing poor outcomes. This world needs more Black healthcare providers, and I hope that throughout my career, I will inspire more Black girls to reach for the stars and become a nurse, doctor, physician's assistant, therapist, or whatever their heart desires. If we as Black women are not entering the medical workforce, then who can we depend on to advocate for our children and us?