Growing up in a single-parent, working-class household, I learned to stretch more than dollars—I learned to stretch hope. As a first-generation college student and BIPOC woman, I've had to learn to traverse education as the "first," the "only," and typically the "other" in every space I enter. My goal is to become a healthcare worker as a surgical or radiologic technologist, serving the underserved and ensuring that no one ever has to feel invisible when they are in need the most. I'm studying biology while working part-time, surviving in this era of economic downturn. It's not easy, but I persist because I know what hangs in the balance—not for me, but for those whom I will be treating. I've overcome so many obstacles—school burnout, financial hardship, and pressure of being the expectation bearer. There were nights I did homework in my car between shifts, nights I went hungry so I could afford textbooks. But I didn't quit. I've volunteered at community health fairs, mentored students younger than me, and clung tightly to my commitment of being present, because every step forward is evidence I do belong here. Not only would this scholarship be financial assistance—it would be a life-changing experience. It would allow me to reduce work hours, focus on clinical training, and buy the equipment that I need to excel. More than that, it would remind me that being the "first" will not mean doing it by myself—it will mean that I'll be clearing the path for others to follow in my future footsteps. I am not just dreaming for myself, but for my future patients, my community, and all the other"s who continue to struggle to find a place in the world.