I was born to a family of immigrants who had sought religious refuge in the United States. My mom emigrated from Ukraine, and my dad emigrated from Uzbekistan. My parents moved to New York City alongside my sweet Russian grandmother, Larisa, but we mostly called her Babushka (The Russian word for grandmother). Babushka was your typical Russian-Jewish grandmother, attentive and caring while still holding an authoritative tone to keep the house in line. She helped take care of the house while my parents worked full-time, she tended to my sister and me from a young age, and she taught us something that cannot be taught in American public schools. Babushka taught us about our heritage and culture, as well as our native Russian language. She taught us how to make and eat typical Russian dishes, she played the shows she watched as a little girl on the TV, and she reminded us of how important our heritage is. Babushka showed my sister and me the qualities of a Jewish woman, from lighting Shabbat candles to reciting the Shema whenever we heard it. My Babushka helped me truly embrace my religion and culture, and she made my sister and me proud to be the only Jewish girls in our public school. One early September morning, I woke up to a commotion in the house. I thought everyone was just getting ready to drive my sister and me to school, but I noticed everyone crying. I also noticed Babushka wasn’t home, but I was too young to understand what was going on. I went on with my school day, only to come home and learn that my sweet Babushka had passed away. The homemade dinners turned into takeout, the Shabbat candles were put away, and our home got messier by the day. With nobody to cook our favorite foods, clean up the house, and teach my sister and me about our heritage after school, my sister and I were placed in an after-school care center. We began to forget our Russian phrases, we got used to typical American cuisine, and my family began losing money from the costs of outside childcare. As I grew up with my outside relatives sighing in disappointment over how much my sister and I lost our heritage through American public schools, I was fed up with how much time was lost and decided to take back my identity on my own. Beginning in 2019, I started to attend Chabad services with my mother and sister. I decided by this time that I would start relearning Russian on my own, step by step. Through the Chabad services and the amazing discovery of Duolingo, I took back my identity slowly but surely. I received an amazing opportunity to attend a Chabad Teen Journey trip for 22 days in Israel during the summer of 2022, which provided me with enhanced and personal education about my Jewish faith and helped me practice speaking Russian to Israeli locals. Throughout my time attending Bard College, I was able to attend Shabbat services at school, participate in a Jewish poetry class, and I have begun a Russian intensive to solidify my Russian. Embracing my identity and falling back into tradition has only made me more excited to learn what there is to know about my family heritage and traditions. Though it is difficult to go through my educational journey without my Babushka by my side, I know she is looking down on me with the utmost pride in her Jewish granddaughter.

I grew up as an unconventional, strange kid, frequently wondering why I never had many solid friends growing up. It felt like the world was in on an inside joke that I was never a part of. My parents were immigrants, my mother was from Ukraine and my father was from Uzbekistan. Their idea of healthcare was a sickness-care system, that only physical ailments required medical attention. I was taught what was the right behavior and what was the wrong behavior. “Don’t cry” or “Stop crying” were a few that frequently rang through my ears. “You’re too old for that,” as I watched another one of my favorite stuffed animals go to the basement to never be uncovered again. Those were my best friends in a world that didn’t understand the way my mind worked. I was placed in a tutoring program called Kumon at a very young age. It’s a math and reading program that progressively gets more difficult with every level, assigning homework daily to students to complete on a timed basis. I was told to be quiet, sit still, and focus. Yet, my mind raced and I never sat still. I cried and cried until I had no tears left to cry, saying it wasn’t fair for me to become locked up for hours every day. I was only a kid. As soon as I found out about becoming a therapist, it was a calling for me. I was a sensitive, passionate kid with a wandering and creative mind. As an adult now pursuing my higher education in the mental health field, I wish to help change the way we approach using therapy as healthcare. Our current plan of action for healthcare is caring for those who appear abnormal or pose a danger to themselves and others. And since I did not pose a danger to myself or others as a child, I was neglected when I wished someone would have heard me. I wish someone listened through my tears of frustration and seen a plan for my life that cooperated with my learning styles and behaviors. Providing access to therapy is so crucial to not just children from a young age, but every single individual on this planet. Getting a degree in psychology provides me the opportunity to work with some of the most trained professionals in the field to fix this public health issue. There is limited access to trained psychologists for several different groups of people all around the world. This medical crisis is burdening our society and global health. By changing the way we provide psychological care and changing the public stigma around therapy, we can provide proper healthcare to all who require it, and allow the public to seek therapy as a preventative measure instead of being treated after a mental health crisis. If mental health is prioritized in our society, our minds can be understood from a young age to help us persevere in the future. Knowing that one other person out there can find peace of mind through finding someone who understands their mind and can help pave their path for their future motivates me to pursue this fascinating career.

I grew up as an unconventional, strange kid, frequently wondering why I never had many solid friends growing up. It felt like the world was in on an inside joke that I was never a part of. My parents were immigrants, my mother was from Ukraine and my father was from Uzbekistan. Their idea of healthcare was a sickness-care system, that only physical ailments required medical attention. I was taught what was the right behavior and what was the wrong behavior. “Don’t cry” or “Stop crying” were a few that frequently rang through my ears. “You’re too old for that,” as I watched another one of my favorite stuffed animals go to the basement to never be uncovered again. Those were my best friends in a world that didn’t understand the way my mind worked. I was placed in a tutoring program called Kumon at a very young age. It’s a math and reading program that progressively gets more difficult with every level, assigning homework daily to students to complete on a timed basis. I was told to be quiet, sit still, and focus. Yet, my mind raced and I never sat still. I cried and cried until I had no tears left to cry, saying it wasn’t fair for me to become locked up for hours every day. I was only a kid. As soon as I found out about mental health, it was a calling for me. I was a sensitive, passionate kid with a wandering and creative mind. As an adult now pursuing my higher education in the mental health field, I wish to help change the way we approach mental health care. Our current plan of action for mental health care is caring for those who appear abnormal or pose a danger to themselves and others. And since I did not pose a danger to myself or others as a child, I was neglected when I wished someone would have heard me. I wish someone listened through my tears of frustration and seen a plan for my life that cooperated with my learning styles and behaviors. Mental health is so crucial to not just children from a young age, but every single individual on this planet. Getting a degree in mental health provides me the opportunity to work with some of the most trained professionals in the field to fix a public health issue. The limited access to mental health care and the neglect that many individuals face is burdening our society and global health. By changing the way we approach mental health and changing the public stigma around the field, we can provide proper mental health care to all who require it, and allow the public to pursue mental health care as a preventative measure instead of being treated after a mental health crisis. If mental health is prioritized in our society, kids won’t have to grow up so fast and education will feed into each individual’s strengths, rather than favoring a select few. Our minds can be understood from a young age to help us persevere in the future. Knowing that one other person out there can find peace of mind through proper mental health care motivates me to pursue this fascinating career.

The dream version of my future self is someone who can be a reflection of everyone they have ever encountered; learning something new from every unique person and using that knowledge to be a leader for the greater good.

I always heard the phrase “leave your mark in the world,” and in the past, I didn’t know how this phrase could apply to one single person like myself. That is, until I uncovered just what makes every single person unique and complex. Diving into the world of STEM through psychology and human biology has provided me with an understanding of the fascinating human mind and body, and has allowed me to ask the right questions and find the right answers to what exactly makes every single person similar, or different. As a child, I was given a false perception of the “right” and “wrong” behaviors and reactions. I was forced to detach from my stuffed animals when my mother decided I was too old for them. I was told to stop crying about things that upset me. I was taught not to point and stare. But how could I not stare when every person in front of me is so unique? Why can’t I cry if that’s something my body naturally does? Why can’t I develop the same emotional connection with a stuffed animal as I do with my own family? These are all human responses caused by the emotions we feel. They mean so much to us, and I could not rationalize my emotions and behaviors until I studied STEM and allowed myself to answer the questions that my past self would have asked and received no response. I am naturally an empathetic person, and I build my perception based on those around me. Yes, I may have been called “sensitive,” but I see that as a compliment! My sensitivity has given me the motivation to apply critical thinking to everyday scenarios. Where others may see a typical human interaction, I dive deeper into body language, emotional and physical cues, patterns, and trends. What other field allows you to conceptualize those seemingly unnoticed observations than the world of STEM? The moment I learned about the field of study that could answer my questions began one winter day in Mr. Cass’s English classroom in my sophomore year of high school. We were watching a video, which most people disregarded and slept through. But, this was a documentary on the early practices of psychology. I couldn’t look away, it was as if a whole new world opened up in my mind! While the documentary taught me some basic functions of the human mind, it provided me with a lot more questions than answers. The STEM field is the place for problem-solving and asking questions, and I knew what initial questions to ask from that point on based on my experiential observation of the human mind and body. To this day, I continue to study STEM as a sophomore in college, and I never abandon my curiosity about the human mind and body. The questions that began with my own emotions and behavior allowed me to pursue a study that can stretch my knowledge to those around me and those all over the world! I hope that one day, little boys and girls aren’t taught to stop crying when all they need is a shoulder to cry on, there isn’t an age limit on stuffed animals, and the things that make us all unique are embraced as common knowledge and practice. That’s how I want to leave my mark in the world and empower those to embrace their true selves to leave their marks on the world as well.