I am addressing my current and future student loan debt through a combination of full-time work, aggressive scholarship applications, careful budgeting, and long-term planning for medical school. As a BIPOC, non-traditional student, I know that debt can shape not only whether a student finishes a degree, but also how much freedom they have after graduation. I do not want student loans to limit my ability to serve underserved communities, continue nonprofit work, or make thoughtful decisions about my future. One of the main ways I am managing my debt is by working full time while also being a full-time graduate student. I currently work as a clinical research coordinator in trauma and transfusion research while completing my Master of Biomedical Science degree at Charles R. Drew University. Balancing work and school is challenging, but it allows me to cover living expenses, stay current on financial responsibilities, and save when possible instead of relying only on loans. I have had to be intentional about budgeting, limiting unnecessary expenses, and making decisions that keep my long-term goals in mind. I am also applying for as many scholarships as I can to reduce the amount I will need to borrow for the next stage of my education. After finishing my current graduate program, I plan to begin an MPH program for the 2026–2027 academic year. My goal is to cover as much of that program as possible through scholarships, grants, and income from my job so that I can avoid adding unnecessary debt before medical school. Each scholarship matters because it reduces the financial pressure that comes with tuition, fees, books, housing, transportation, and other required costs. For medical school, I am strongly considering the Health Professions Scholarship Program through the Army, Navy, or Air Force. Becoming an HPSP scholar would allow me to serve while having medical school tuition covered and receiving a stipend. My plan would be to save as much of that stipend as possible and use it to pay down existing student loans while avoiding additional medical school debt. This option aligns with both my financial goals and my desire to serve communities through medicine. I am also working to increase my long-term earning potential by building a career that combines medicine, public health, research, and leadership. My goal is to become a physician who serves underserved communities while continuing to support students through ReMix Science and Care, the nonprofit I founded for underrepresented students in STEM and healthcare. Reducing my debt matters because it will give me more freedom to choose service-oriented work and continue investing time and resources into community impact. My plan is not based on one solution. It is based on discipline, work, scholarships, service pathways, and careful planning. I understand that student debt may be part of my journey, but I am doing everything I can now to reduce it, manage it responsibly, and prevent it from limiting the kind of physician, leader, and community advocate I am working to become.

Statement 1 My long-term career goal is to become a physician and public health leader who serves underserved communities while improving the systems that shape patient care. I am currently finishing my Master of Biomedical Science degree at Charles R. Drew University and will begin my MPH in the fall. Together, these programs are helping me build both the scientific foundation and public health perspective needed to address health inequities at the patient, community, and systems levels. My experiences reflect this goal. As an EMT, I cared for patients during moments of crisis and learned the importance of calm communication and trust. As a clinical research coordinator with the University of Pittsburgh, I work in trauma and transfusion research, supporting studies that aim to improve outcomes for critically injured patients. I have also contributed to published research, including work connected to transfusion medicine and health equity. Beyond academics and research, I founded ReMix Science and Care, a nonprofit supporting underrepresented students in STEM and healthcare through mentorship, microgrants, and practical resources. This work reflects my commitment to leadership, community service, and reducing barriers for students navigating difficult educational pathways. This award would help reduce the financial pressure of graduate education as I transition into my MPH program. It would allow me to stay focused on school, research, nonprofit leadership, and my preparation for medical school while continuing to build a career centered on healthcare access, equity, and community impact. Statement 2 My goals align closely with ACHE of SoCal’s mission to advance healthcare leadership and promote excellence through education, networking, community service, and partnerships. I am pursuing healthcare not only to provide direct patient care, but also to help improve the systems that determine whether patients receive timely, equitable, and compassionate care. ACHE of SoCal’s emphasis on leadership development, professional connection, and community service reflects the kind of healthcare professional I am working to become. As I finish my Master of Biomedical Science degree and prepare to begin my MPH in the fall, I am becoming increasingly interested in the connection between clinical care, public health, health administration, and systems improvement. My background as an EMT and clinical research coordinator has shown me that patient outcomes depend on more than individual medical decisions. They are also shaped by coordination, access, leadership, evidence, and the ability of healthcare teams and institutions to respond effectively to community needs. I hope to use my MPH and future medical training to serve underserved communities, contribute to research, and lead programs that improve access and equity. Through ReMix Science and Care, the nonprofit I founded to support underrepresented students in STEM and healthcare, I am already working to build partnerships, mentorship pathways, and practical support systems. ACHE of SoCal’s purpose resonates with my commitment to developing as a healthcare leader who serves through education, collaboration, community engagement, and long-term systems change.

I am a Black woman, first-generation graduate student, clinical research coordinator, nonprofit founder, and future physician. I am currently pursuing a Master of Biomedical Science degree at Charles R. Drew University, where I am strengthening my foundation for medical school and preparing for a career rooted in service, research, and health equity. My path has been shaped by caregiving, financial pressure, grief, and a deep belief that education should not be limited to those who already have resources or connections. Growing up in a single-parent and low-income household taught me early that opportunity is not distributed equally. I watched my mother manage chronic illness, parenting, and financial responsibilities with strength and persistence. Her example taught me how to keep going, but it also taught me that resilience should not be the only thing people have to rely on. Students, especially Black women, deserve support, mentorship, and financial stability as they pursue their goals. That belief is one of the reasons I founded ReMix Science and Care, a nonprofit organization that supports underrepresented students in STEM and healthcare through mentorship, microgrants, practical resources, and community-building. ReMix is deeply personal to me because I am still navigating many of the same barriers the organization seeks to address. I know what it feels like to pursue higher education while balancing work, school, grief, health challenges, and limited financial resources. I also know how much difference even one source of support can make. Through ReMix, I want to help students overcome barriers such as application fees, test costs, textbooks, transportation, technology needs, professional attire, food insecurity, and emergency expenses. My goal is for ReMix to grow into a sustainable organization with long-term funding and partnerships that can eventually support thousands of students. I want students to feel seen before they reach a breaking point and to know that their dreams are not too expensive, too distant, or too unrealistic. Scholarship support would make a meaningful difference in my own journey. Not having to worry as much about paying for school would free up time, energy, and resources that I could invest into my education, medical school preparation, and the continued growth of ReMix. As a student, I am already trying to build something that can outlast me. Financial support would help me keep doing that work with greater stability. In the future, I plan to make a positive impact as a physician, researcher, mentor, and nonprofit leader. I want to care for underserved patients with compassion and cultural humility, contribute to research that improves healthcare systems, and expand access for students who have historically been left out of STEM and healthcare pathways. Michele L. Durant’s legacy as a Black woman, lifelong learner, and public servant resonates with me because I also believe education should be used to serve others. My goal is to turn my own challenges into community impact and help build a world where more Black women have the support, resources, and leadership opportunities they deserve.

Coming from both a single-parent and low-income household taught me perseverance early. I watched my mother carry financial pressure, chronic illness, parenting, and daily responsibilities with strength and determination. Her example showed me that perseverance is not always loud or dramatic. Sometimes it is simply finding a way forward when the path is difficult. As a first-generation student, I have had to navigate college, graduate school, financial aid, medical school preparation, and professional opportunities without a built-in roadmap. There have been moments when financial stress, family responsibilities, health challenges, grief, and self-doubt made school feel overwhelming. Still, those experiences made me resourceful, persistent, and deeply aware of how much support matters. I am actively working toward my goals by pursuing a Master of Biomedical Science degree at Charles R. Drew University while working as a clinical research coordinator in trauma and transfusion research. My long-term goal is to become a physician serving underserved communities. I also founded ReMix Science and Care, a nonprofit supporting underrepresented students in STEM and healthcare through mentorship, microgrants, practical resources, and community-building. I want to use my life experience to help students and patients feel seen, supported, and capable of moving forward, especially those navigating systems that were not built with them in mind.

Entering higher education as a first-generation student has meant learning to navigate a system my family could not fully prepare me for. As a Black woman pursuing a graduate degree in biomedical science, I have had to figure out expectations, resources, timelines, financial decisions, and professional pathways that were not always clearly explained. Higher education can be empowering, but it can also feel intimidating when you are moving through spaces where people from your background are underrepresented and where mentorship, financial stability, and insider knowledge are not guaranteed. One of my biggest hopes is that my education will allow me to become a physician who serves underserved communities and helps make healthcare more equitable. I am currently pursuing a Master of Biomedical Science degree at Charles R. Drew University, an HBCU whose mission aligns with my commitment to health equity and service. Being in this program has strengthened my belief that education can be a tool for both personal transformation and community impact. I do not see my degree as something that belongs only to me. I see it as something that can help me serve patients, mentor students, contribute to research, and build pathways for others who are also trying to enter fields where they may not always see themselves represented. At the same time, one of my greatest concerns about higher education has been the financial burden. Tuition is only one part of the cost. Students also have to manage housing, food, transportation, textbooks, technology, exam preparation, application fees, and unexpected emergencies. As a first-generation student, I have often had to learn these realities while already carrying them. It is difficult to focus fully on academic growth when financial stress is always present in the background. My background has shaped my educational journey by making me resourceful, determined, and deeply aware of how much support matters. I have learned how to ask questions, seek mentorship, advocate for myself, and keep going even when the process feels overwhelming. I have also learned that ambition alone is not always enough. Students need access, guidance, financial stability, and people who believe in their potential before they have reached the finish line. That understanding has directly shaped my future goals. In addition to preparing for medical school, I founded ReMix Science and Care, a nonprofit organization that supports underrepresented students in STEM and healthcare through mentorship, microgrants, practical resources, and community-building. I created ReMix because I know talented students can be pushed out of educational pathways not because they lack ability, but because they lack support at the right moment. I want to help reduce barriers such as test fees, application costs, textbooks, transportation needs, technology gaps, professional attire, and emergency expenses. My hope is that by continuing my education, I can help break cycles of exclusion and expand what is possible for students who come after me. My fear is that too many capable students will continue to be discouraged by systems that were not designed with them in mind. That fear motivates me rather than stops me. I want to use my degree, my future medical career, and my nonprofit work to help create a world where first-generation and underrepresented students do not have to feel like outsiders in the pursuit of higher education.

My journey in STEM has been shaped by curiosity, perseverance, and a desire to use science in service of people. I am currently pursuing a Master of Biomedical Science degree at Charles R. Drew University, where I am strengthening my foundation for medical school and deepening my understanding of the biological, clinical, and social factors that shape health outcomes. For me, STEM is not only about mastering difficult material. It is about asking better questions, solving problems, and using knowledge to improve lives. As a woman in STEM, I understand how important representation and support can be. There have been many moments when I have felt the pressure to prove that I belong, especially as a Black woman pursuing biomedical science and medicine. STEM spaces can be rigorous and rewarding, but they can also feel isolating when students do not see many people who share their background or lived experiences. Those challenges have not discouraged me. Instead, they have made me more committed to continuing and helping create pathways for others. My curiosity has grown through both academic and professional experiences. As a clinical research coordinator with the University of Pittsburgh, I work in trauma and transfusion research, supporting studies that aim to improve care for critically injured patients. This work has shown me how science moves from questions to evidence, and from evidence to changes in clinical practice. It has also taught me the importance of precision, collaboration, and ethical responsibility in research. Every study, protocol, and data point connects back to real patients whose outcomes may be improved by better evidence. My passion for STEM is also personal. My experiences as a caregiver, EMT, patient, researcher, and grieving partner have all shaped the kind of physician I hope to become. I have seen how powerful science can be when it is paired with compassion, communication, and equity. I want to use my education to become a physician who serves underserved communities, especially communities of color that often face delayed care, medical mistrust, and unequal access to resources. I want to help patients feel seen, heard, and respected while also contributing to research that improves systems of care. Beyond my own career goals, I am committed to supporting other students in STEM and healthcare. I founded ReMix Science and Care, a nonprofit organization that provides mentorship, microgrants, practical resources, and community-building for underrepresented students. Through ReMix, I hope to help students overcome barriers such as test fees, application costs, textbooks, transportation, technology needs, and lack of mentorship. I know that talent is everywhere, but access is not. I want to help build a future where more women and students from underrepresented backgrounds can enter STEM with confidence and support. This scholarship represents more than financial assistance. It represents investment in women who are curious, capable, and determined to make a difference. I hope to use my education, research experience, nonprofit leadership, and future medical career to contribute to STEM in a way that is both scientifically meaningful and deeply human. My goal is to keep learning, keep building, and help make STEM more accessible for those who come after me.

I embody selflessness by trying to notice what people need before they have to ask for help. To me, selflessness is not only about one major act of service. It is also about consistency, attention, and the willingness to use whatever resources, knowledge, or time I have to make someone else’s path a little less difficult. One of the earliest ways I learned this was through caregiving. Growing up, I often supported my mother as she navigated chronic illness and medical appointments. I learned to listen carefully, write down questions, help interpret medical information, and pay attention to what she needed in moments when the healthcare system felt overwhelming. I did not think of it as leadership at the time. I was simply trying to help someone I loved feel less alone. Looking back, those experiences shaped my understanding of service. They taught me that helping someone in need often begins with presence, patience, and advocacy. I have also practiced selflessness through my work in healthcare. As an EMT, I entered people’s lives during emergencies, when patients and families were scared, vulnerable, or in pain. I learned to stay calm, communicate clearly, and prioritize the needs of the person in front of me. Sometimes helping meant providing medical care. Other times, it meant reassuring a frightened family member, explaining what was happening, or treating someone with dignity during one of the hardest moments of their day. That work showed me that service requires both skill and compassion. Another important example is my work with ReMix Science and Care, the nonprofit I founded to support underrepresented students in STEM and healthcare. I created ReMix because I know many students face barriers that are not always visible, including application fees, test costs, textbooks, transportation needs, technology gaps, professional attire, food insecurity, and lack of mentorship. Through ReMix, I am working to build microgrant, mentorship, and resource programs that help students continue their education instead of being pushed out by financial or practical obstacles. Even while I am still pursuing my own goals as a graduate student and future physician, I believe I have a responsibility to help build pathways for others. Selflessness has also shown up in smaller, personal ways. I have helped classmates study difficult material, supported friends through grief and mental health struggles, and offered guidance to students trying to navigate academic or healthcare pathways. I know what it feels like to need encouragement, clarity, and someone who believes you can keep going. Because of that, I try to be that person for others when I can. I do not see selflessness as ignoring my own needs or pretending I can do everything. Instead, I see it as choosing to stay connected to the needs of others while continuing to grow myself. My goal is to become a physician who carries that same spirit into patient care, research, mentorship, and community work. I want my life and career to reflect the belief that when we support people before they reach a breaking point, we give them a better chance to heal, continue, and thrive.

My path has been shaped by caregiving, loss, research, service, and a deep commitment to making healthcare and STEM more accessible. Growing up, I often accompanied my mother to appointments and hospital visits as she managed chronic illness. Those experiences taught me early that healthcare is not only about symptoms and diagnoses. It is also about whether patients and families feel heard, respected, and guided through uncertainty. I saw how powerful it could be when a provider slowed down to explain something clearly, and how overwhelming healthcare could feel when communication was rushed or dismissive. Those early experiences helped shape my desire to pursue medicine. As an EMT, I saw care at the moment of crisis, when patients and families needed calm, compassion, and quick decision-making. As a clinical research coordinator with the University of Pittsburgh, I have seen how research can improve care for critically injured patients and strengthen clinical systems. Together, these roles showed me that medicine requires both human connection and scientific rigor. I want to become a physician who can bridge those worlds by caring for patients directly while also contributing to research and systems-level improvement. My values have also been shaped by grief and perseverance. After losing my partner, Ryan, I had to continue pursuing my goals while carrying a loss that changed my life. That experience deepened my understanding of mental health, community, and the importance of supporting people before they reach a breaking point. It also strengthened my commitment to building something meaningful from pain. I founded ReMix Science and Care, a nonprofit organization that supports underrepresented students in STEM and healthcare through mentorship, microgrants, practical resources, and community-building. Through ReMix, I hope to reduce barriers such as application fees, test costs, textbooks, transportation needs, professional attire, technology gaps, and emergency expenses that can interrupt a student’s path. I am currently pursuing a Master of Biomedical Science degree at Charles R. Drew University. This program is helping me strengthen my scientific foundation, prepare for medical school, and grow within an academic environment rooted in health equity and service to underserved communities. My coursework challenges me to think deeply about disease, patient outcomes, and the social and structural factors that shape health. It is also helping me become more disciplined, prepared, and confident as I continue toward medical training. I plan to use my education to become a physician who serves underserved communities with compassion, clarity, and cultural humility. I want to care for patients in a way that makes them feel seen, not dismissed. I also want to continue building ReMix into a sustainable organization that can support thousands of students over time. My long-term goal is to combine medicine, research, mentorship, and nonprofit leadership to create a lasting impact. What drives me is the belief that access can change the direction of a life. Whether I am caring for patients, mentoring students, conducting research, or building community programs, I want my work to help people feel supported, resourced, and capable of moving forward.

Mental health is important to me as a student because I have learned that academic success is not separate from emotional survival. It is difficult to study, complete assignments, lead projects, or plan for the future when grief, anxiety, exhaustion, or depression are taking up space in your mind and body. As a graduate student, I have had seasons where I looked functional from the outside while internally I was struggling to keep going. Those experiences have taught me that mental health is not a side issue for students. It affects focus, memory, motivation, relationships, confidence, and whether a person feels capable of continuing. After losing my partner, Ryan, my mental health became one of the hardest parts of my academic journey. I was still enrolled in school, still working, and still trying to move toward my goals, but grief changed the way everything felt. Ordinary tasks could feel heavy. Studying required more energy. Planning for the future felt painful because the future I imagined had changed. There were moments when pushing through was not inspiring or impressive. It was simply exhausting. That experience helped me understand that students are often praised for resilience without people fully seeing what that resilience costs. Mental health matters to me because I know that students cannot thrive if they are only expected to perform. They also need support, rest, safe spaces, and people who recognize when they are carrying more than they can explain. I have had to learn that asking for help is not a failure. Therapy, faith, family, mentors, and trusted friends have helped me continue when I did not feel strong enough to carry everything alone. Those supports have reminded me that healing does not mean pretending everything is fine. Sometimes healing means being honest about what hurts and still choosing to take the next step. I advocate for mental health in my community by trying to create spaces where honesty is allowed. In school and in my personal relationships, I try to check in with people beyond surface-level questions. I do not assume someone is okay just because they are getting good grades, showing up to class, or meeting deadlines. I try to listen without rushing people into positivity. I also speak more openly about grief, therapy, and the reality that high-achieving students can still struggle. Through ReMix Science and Care, the nonprofit I founded to support underrepresented students in STEM and healthcare, I also see mental health as part of access. Students who are facing financial stress, isolation, family responsibilities, discrimination, or lack of mentorship are often carrying emotional burdens alongside academic ones. By building programs focused on mentorship, microgrants, resources, and community, I hope to reduce some of the pressures that make students feel alone or unsupported. My own mental health journey has shaped me into a more compassionate student, future physician, and leader. It has taught me that success should not require silence or self-abandonment. I want to help build communities where students can pursue ambitious goals while still being treated as whole people.

A national health issue I feel passionate about is unequal access to timely, compassionate, and culturally responsive healthcare. This issue matters to me because health outcomes are shaped long before someone receives a diagnosis. They are shaped by whether a patient has transportation, insurance, safe housing, reliable food, time away from work, a provider who listens, and a healthcare system that takes their concerns seriously. I have seen this issue from several sides. Growing up, I accompanied my mother to medical appointments and hospital visits as she managed chronic illness. I learned early that healthcare can be confusing and intimidating, especially when medical language moves faster than a family can process it. I also saw how much difference one thoughtful provider could make by slowing down, explaining clearly, and treating my family with dignity. As an EMT, I saw patients during moments of crisis, when barriers that had been building for months or years suddenly became emergencies. Some patients delayed care because they did not have access, did not trust the system, could not afford to miss work, or did not realize how serious their symptoms were. In those moments, it became clear to me that medicine is not only about what happens in the ambulance or hospital. It is also about whether people have the support and resources to seek care before their situation becomes critical. My work in clinical research has deepened this concern. As a clinical research coordinator in trauma and transfusion research, I have seen how systems, protocols, and evidence can influence care for critically injured patients. Research has taught me that improving healthcare requires more than individual compassion. It also requires better processes, stronger access, and a commitment to identifying gaps that affect patient outcomes. I care about this issue because I want to become a physician who serves underserved communities, especially communities of color that often experience delayed care, medical mistrust, and unequal access to resources. I also care because I know what it feels like to be a patient, a caregiver, and a loved one waiting for clarity inside a system that can feel overwhelming. This passion also connects to my nonprofit work. Through ReMix Science and Care, I am building programs to support underrepresented students in STEM and healthcare through mentorship, microgrants, and practical resources. Increasing diversity in healthcare is part of addressing health inequity. Patients deserve providers who understand their communities, listen without judgment, and recognize how lived experience affects health. Unequal access to healthcare is not one isolated problem. It connects to education, poverty, racism, geography, trust, and representation. That is why I care so deeply about it. I want to use my future career to care for patients directly, contribute to research that improves systems, and help create pathways for more students from underrepresented backgrounds to enter healthcare. To me, addressing health inequity means helping people receive care earlier, feel heard when they seek help, and trust that their lives matter within the systems meant to protect them.

My “awkward” thing is that I ask a lot of questions. Not one or two polite questions, but the follow-up questions, the clarification questions, the “wait, can you explain that one more way?” questions. Growing up, and even now, I have sometimes worried that this makes me seem intense or difficult. But over time, I have realized that my need for clarity is one of the things that makes me stand out. I am the kind of person who wants to understand the full picture. In school, that means I do not just want to memorize facts. I want to know why something happens, how it connects to real life, and what it means for patients and communities. In research, it means I pay attention to details, processes, and gaps that could affect the quality of the work. In leadership, it means I try not to make assumptions about what people need. I ask, I listen, and I try to build from what I learn. That “awkward” trait has shaped my path in healthcare and service. As a clinical research coordinator working in trauma and transfusion research, asking questions helps me think carefully about patient care, study operations, and how evidence can improve outcomes. As a graduate student in biomedical science, it pushes me to keep learning even when the material is difficult. As the founder of ReMix Science and Care, a nonprofit supporting underrepresented students in STEM and healthcare, it helps me ask better questions about access: What do students need to keep going? What barriers are we overlooking? What kind of support would actually make a difference? I also think this trait has made me more compassionate. When someone seems frustrated, confused, quiet, or overwhelmed, I try not to assume I know why. I have learned to ask what they need, what they understood, and what might make the situation easier to navigate. That matters in medicine, education, and community work because people are often carrying things they have not said out loud. I used to think standing out meant having everything figured out or being effortlessly confident. Now I think standing out can also mean being curious, persistent, and willing to care deeply. I care about getting things right. I care about making systems better. I care about people feeling heard before they reach a breaking point. My question-asking may still be awkward sometimes, but it is also one of the reasons I keep pushing forward. It has helped me become a stronger student, researcher, leader, and future physician. It reminds me that impact often starts with paying attention, and paying attention often starts with one more question.

I want to pursue a career in the nonprofit sector because I believe service should not be limited to what happens inside a hospital, classroom, or formal institution. Some of the most important barriers people face are practical, financial, and social. They happen before someone reaches a doctor’s office, before a student applies to school, or before a person decides they are capable of continuing. I am pursuing a career in healthcare, but I also know medicine alone cannot solve every barrier that affects a person’s ability to survive, thrive, and build a future. That is one reason nonprofit work has become central to my purpose. I am the founder of ReMix Science and Care, a nonprofit organization created to support underrepresented students in STEM and healthcare through microgrants, mentorship, practical resources, and community-building. ReMix was born from lived experience, grief, and a long-standing desire to expand access for students who are talented and motivated, but may not have the financial stability, guidance, or professional networks that make the path easier to navigate. I know what it feels like to pursue higher education while balancing financial pressure, family responsibilities, health challenges, grief, and the pressure to prove that I belong. Those experiences have shown me that persistence matters, but support matters too. Through ReMix, I hope to address barriers that often go unnoticed until they become the reason a student has to pause or give up. A textbook, application fee, test fee, professional outfit, transportation cost, technology need, or emergency expense may seem small from the outside, but for a student with limited resources, it can become a major obstacle. A mentor may not remove every barrier, but the right guidance can help a student understand their options, prepare more confidently, and feel less alone in spaces where they may already be underrepresented. I want ReMix to grow into a sustainable organization with long-term funding, strong partnerships, and programs that can support thousands of students over time. My goal is not only to provide one-time assistance, but to build a community where students feel seen, resourced, and connected. Even as I continue my path toward becoming a physician, I plan to keep ReMix active and growing. I see nonprofit leadership and medicine as deeply connected. As a future physician, I want to care for patients directly, but I also want to address the broader conditions that shape health, opportunity, and access. The positive impact I hope to create is both immediate and long-term. In the short term, I want ReMix to help students overcome urgent barriers that threaten their educational progress. In the long term, I hope it helps more students from marginalized communities enter STEM and healthcare with confidence, support, and a sense of belonging. By supporting these students, ReMix can help strengthen the future healthcare and STEM workforce while also improving access for the communities those students will serve. I want to pursue nonprofit work because I believe community care is a form of justice. ReMix allows me to turn experience into service and build something that can outlast any single season of my life. Whether I am working as a student, researcher, nonprofit founder, or future physician, my goal is the same: to help people feel supported before they reach a breaking point and to create pathways where more students can thrive, lead, and give back.

My desire to pursue pediatric medicine comes from a deep belief that children deserve care that protects not only their health, but also their sense of safety, dignity, and possibility. I have always been drawn to medicine because of the way it sits at the center of science, trust, communication, and human vulnerability. Pediatrics feels especially meaningful to me because children do not experience illness alone. They come with families, caregivers, fears, routines, school responsibilities, and communities that shape their health long before they enter an exam room. My interest in healthcare began in my own family. Growing up, I often accompanied my mother to appointments and hospital visits as she managed chronic illness. I learned early that medical care is not just about symptoms or diagnoses. It is also about whether patients and families feel heard, whether someone explains what is happening, and whether fear is met with patience instead of dismissal. Those experiences made me attentive to the emotional side of medicine and the importance of communicating clearly with families who may be scared or overwhelmed. As an EMT, I saw how quickly a child’s health concern can become a family crisis. Even when I was caring for adult patients, I noticed how illness affected entire households. Family members wanted answers, reassurance, and someone steady enough to guide them through uncertainty. That experience made me want to be involved beyond the emergency moment. I wanted to understand what happened after the handoff, how diagnoses were made, how treatment plans were explained, and how patients and families were supported over time. Pediatrics also aligns with my commitment to health equity. Children from underserved communities often face barriers that are not their fault, including limited access to preventive care, unstable housing, food insecurity, environmental stressors, under-resourced schools, and medical systems that may not fully understand their lived experiences. I want to become a physician who recognizes those factors and cares for children within the context of their families and communities. To me, pediatric medicine is an opportunity to intervene early, build trust, support parents, and help children grow into healthier futures. As a Black woman pursuing medicine, I also understand the importance of representation in healthcare. Families deserve providers who listen without judgment, take their concerns seriously, and understand that trust must be earned. I want to be the kind of pediatrician who explains clearly, notices when a caregiver is confused or afraid, and makes children feel safe even in unfamiliar medical settings. My work in clinical research has also shaped this goal by showing me how evidence can improve care across hospitals and communities. I hope to carry that mindset into pediatric medicine by combining compassionate patient care with research, advocacy, and systems-level thinking. Ultimately, I am inspired to pursue pediatric medicine because it allows me to care for children while also supporting the families and communities around them. I want to use my future career to help children feel protected, parents feel empowered, and underserved communities feel seen. Pediatrics represents the kind of medicine I hope to practice: thoughtful, preventive, relational, and rooted in the belief that every child deserves the chance to thrive.

I am pursuing a degree in healthcare because I want to become a physician who serves patients, families, and communities with scientific excellence, compassion, and a commitment to equity. My long-term goal is to attend medical school and become a doctor who works with underserved communities, especially communities of color that often face barriers to care, delayed diagnoses, medical mistrust, and unequal access to resources. I am especially drawn to pediatrics, primary care, emergency medicine, and health equity because these fields sit at the intersection of prevention, crisis, family support, and community trust. My interest in healthcare began through personal experience. Growing up, I often accompanied my mother to medical appointments and hospital visits as she managed chronic illness. I saw how much it mattered when a physician took time to explain what was happening, answer questions clearly, and treat my family with dignity. I also saw how overwhelming healthcare can feel when communication is rushed or when patients do not feel fully seen. Those experiences taught me that medicine is not only about diagnosing and treating disease. It is also about helping people navigate fear, uncertainty, and decisions that can shape their lives. My path became clearer through my work as an EMT and clinical research coordinator. As an EMT, I met patients and families during moments of crisis. I learned how important it is to stay calm, communicate clearly, and provide care with urgency and compassion. However, I also felt the limits of my role. Once a patient was handed off, I was no longer part of what happened next. I wanted to better understand the diagnostic reasoning, treatment decisions, and long-term care that followed those emergency moments. As a clinical research coordinator working in trauma and transfusion research, I have seen another side of healthcare: how evidence can improve treatment for critically injured patients across hospitals and communities. Research has taught me to think about systems, outcomes, and the responsibility of asking better questions. It has also strengthened my desire to become a physician who can apply science directly at the bedside while contributing to research that improves care broadly. In the future, I hope to use my degree to become a physician who combines clinical care, research, mentorship, and advocacy. I want to care for patients directly, especially children and families in underserved communities, while also working to improve the systems that shape their access to care. I want to be the kind of doctor who listens carefully, explains clearly, and remembers that patients are whole people with families, fears, responsibilities, and stories beyond their diagnoses. I also want to use my education to expand opportunities for others. As the founder of ReMix Science and Care, a nonprofit that supports underrepresented students in STEM and healthcare, I am committed to building mentorship and microgrant programs that help students overcome practical barriers to education. I know how much financial limitations and lack of guidance can affect a student’s path, and I want to help make that path less isolating. The lives of Dr. Michael Paglia and Dr. Albina Claps-Paglia reflect the kind of medicine I hope to practice: skilled, compassionate, ambitious, and rooted in service. Their legacy reminds me that physicians can impact lives not only through clinical work, but also through mentorship and generosity. I hope to use my degree to become that kind of physician, someone who heals, teaches, advocates, and helps future students believe that medicine is possible for them too.

I want to build ReMix Science and Care into a sustainable organization that can support thousands of underrepresented students in STEM and healthcare for years to come. ReMix is already a nonprofit, but I do not want it to be a short-term project or something that depends only on my personal energy. I want to build it into an organization with lasting funding, strong programs, trusted partnerships, and the infrastructure to keep serving students long after its earliest stages. The vision for ReMix is rooted in mentorship, microgrants, practical resources, and community. I want students to have access to support before they reach a breaking point. A microgrant may not solve every problem, but it can help cover an application fee, testing cost, textbook, professional outfit, transportation expense, technology need, or emergency expense that might otherwise interrupt a student’s education. A mentor may not remove every barrier, but they can help a student feel less alone, more prepared, and more confident as they move through competitive academic and professional spaces. I am still on the journey myself. I am a graduate student, clinical research coordinator, and future physician working toward my own long-term goals. I have not reached every destination I am aiming for, and in some ways, that is exactly why I feel called to build ReMix now. I know what it feels like to pursue higher education while balancing financial stress, grief, family responsibilities, health challenges, and the pressure to prove that I belong. Those experiences have shown me that persistence matters, but support matters too. Building ReMix is also part of how I am building my future. As I continue toward medical school and a career in healthcare, I want ReMix to grow alongside me as a lasting commitment to equity, access, and community care. My goal is to create a foundation strong enough to fund student needs in perpetuity, expand mentorship networks, and eventually reach thousands of students across STEM and healthcare pathways. The impact I hope to make is both personal and collective. For me, ReMix allows me to turn lived experience into service and build something that reflects the support I wish more students had. For my community, I hope it becomes a reliable source of encouragement, resources, and opportunity. I want to build a future where more students from underrepresented backgrounds can enter STEM and healthcare feeling supported, resourced, and seen.

My experience with mental health has shaped my goals, relationships, and understanding of the world by teaching me that people are often carrying pain that is not visible. After the death of my partner, Ryan, grief changed the way I understood myself, my future, and the life I thought I was building. Losing him was not only emotionally painful, it disrupted my sense of safety, direction, and identity. There were moments when I struggled to imagine how I could continue forward without him. Experiencing that level of grief forced me to confront the reality that mental health challenges can affect anyone, even people who appear capable, high-achieving, and composed from the outside. Before that loss, I was used to being someone who kept going. As a graduate student, clinical research coordinator, nonprofit founder, and Black woman in STEM, I have often felt pressure to be resilient, productive, and steady. In spaces where Black women are still underrepresented, there can be an added pressure to prove that I belong. I have felt the need to be prepared, polished, and strong, even when I was exhausted or unsure. My mental health journey taught me that strength is not the same as silence. It also taught me that asking for help does not make me less capable, it makes me human. Ryan’s death changed how I understand grief and survival. I learned that grief is not something a person simply “gets over.” It becomes part of how they move through the world. Some days, it feels quiet. Other days, it changes the shape of everything. In the early aftermath of his death, I had to learn how to keep living while carrying a loss that felt impossible to hold. Therapy, faith, family, mentors, friends, and community all helped me continue. They did not erase my grief, but they helped me carry it. That distinction matters because it taught me that healing is not always about returning to who I was before. Sometimes healing means learning how to live honestly with what has changed. This experience has deeply shaped my relationships. I am more aware now that people can be struggling internally while still appearing functional on the outside. Someone can be attending class, responding to emails, meeting deadlines, and still feel overwhelmed, lonely, or afraid. Because I have lived that reality, I try to listen more carefully. I try to check in beyond the first obvious moment of crisis. I try not to assume someone is okay simply because they are accomplishing things. I have learned that support does not always require perfect words. Sometimes it requires consistency, patience, and the willingness to sit with someone in pain without rushing them to be fine. My mental health experience has also made me more honest about the kind of relationships I want to build. I value relationships where people can be fully human, not just impressive or productive. I want to create spaces where people can admit when they are tired, grieving, confused, or afraid without worrying that their honesty will make them seem weak. This matters to me personally, but it also matters professionally. I want to enter medicine with a clear understanding that patients are whole people. They do not bring only symptoms into the exam room. They bring memories, losses, identities, family responsibilities, financial stress, fear, and past experiences with the healthcare system. As a future physician, I want to practice medicine in a way that recognizes the connection between physical health, mental health, identity, and access. My experiences have shown me how harmful it can be when people feel unseen or dismissed. I want to be the kind of physician who listens carefully, explains clearly, and creates room for patients to tell the truth about what they are experiencing. I especially want to serve communities that have historically been underserved or mistreated by healthcare systems. For many patients, trust is not automatic. It has to be earned through respect, consistency, and care that honors their lived experience. Being a Black woman in STEM has also shaped my understanding of mental health and belonging. Representation matters, not only because students need to see people who look like them in these fields, but because isolation itself can become a barrier. When students feel like they must constantly prove themselves, hide parts of who they are, or carry hardship alone, their mental health suffers. In STEM, achievement is often celebrated without enough attention to the emotional cost of persistence. This is one reason I founded ReMix Science and Care, a nonprofit created to support underrepresented students in STEM and healthcare through mentorship, microgrants, and practical resources. My own experiences taught me that persistence is important, but persistence alone is not always enough. Students also need community, guidance, and people who recognize the obstacles they are carrying before they reach a breaking point. My experience with mental health has changed my understanding of the world. It has taught me that life can be fragile, but also that care can be powerful. It has shown me that people survive not only through individual strength, but through connection, resources, and love. I carry Ryan’s memory with me as part of my purpose, not because grief has become easy, but because love continues to shape how I serve others. My journey has not made me fearless, but it has made me more compassionate, more purposeful, and more determined to use my education and experiences to help others feel seen, supported, and less alone.

I have chosen to pursue a degree in healthcare because my life has repeatedly shown me how deeply medicine affects not only patients, but also the families and communities surrounding them. My interest in healthcare began long before I could fully name it. Growing up, I often accompanied my mother to appointments and hospital visits as she managed chronic illnesses. I learned early that illness is not experienced only through symptoms. It is also experienced through fear, confusion, unanswered questions, and the hope that someone will slow down long enough to explain what is happening. Those experiences taught me that good care requires more than medical knowledge. It requires communication, patience, and the ability to make someone feel seen within a system that can easily make them feel powerless. I remember watching how much it mattered when a physician took time to answer one more question or explain something in language my family could understand. I also remember the frustration of leaving medical encounters with uncertainty because information moved too quickly or was not explained clearly enough. Those moments shaped my desire to become the kind of provider who does not just treat disease, but guides patients and families through vulnerable moments with clarity and compassion. My path toward healthcare has also been shaped by my work as an EMT and clinical research coordinator. As an EMT, I entered people’s lives during moments of crisis. I learned to stay calm, assess quickly, and communicate clearly when patients and families were afraid. I valued that work, but I also felt the limits of my role. After handing patients off to the emergency department, I often wondered what happened next. I wanted to understand the reasoning behind treatment decisions and remain involved as a patient’s story continued. Clinical research gave me another perspective on healthcare. Through trauma and transfusion studies, I have seen how evidence can improve care for critically injured patients across hospitals and communities. Research taught me to think about systems, outcomes, and the importance of asking better questions. Still, my long-term goal is to apply science directly in patient care, especially for families who need both medical expertise and someone willing to help them understand the path ahead. As a woman in healthcare, and especially as a Black woman, I hope to make a positive impact by becoming a physician who listens deeply and refuses to dismiss patients’ pain, concerns, or lived experiences. I know how important representation is in medicine. Patients from underserved communities deserve providers who understand that trust is earned, not assumed. They deserve care that respects their culture, their fears, their questions, and their right to be taken seriously. I also hope to expand access beyond the exam room. Through ReMix Science and Care, the nonprofit I founded to support underrepresented students in STEM and healthcare, I want to help create pathways for students who may not have financial resources, mentorship, or professional networks. My goal is to combine medicine, research, mentorship, and advocacy so that I can serve patients while also helping future healthcare professionals enter the field. Ultimately, I am pursuing healthcare because I want to stand in the space between crisis and understanding. I want to become a physician who brings knowledge, compassion, and equity into every patient interaction, and who uses her position to help make healthcare more humane, accessible, and just.

A meaningful relationship that has shaped who I am today was my relationship with my late partner, Ryan. Ryan was one of the most intelligent, compassionate, and curious people I have ever known. He was an electrical engineer, a musician, a researcher, and a person who cared deeply about making the world better. But beyond his accomplishments, what shaped me most was the way he loved people. He paid attention. He listened closely. He made others feel like their thoughts mattered. Being loved by him, and loving him, changed the way I understand connection, service, and purpose. Ryan saw possibility in people. He had a way of encouraging me that did not feel performative or shallow. He did not just tell me I could do hard things, he reminded me of the evidence that I already had. When I doubted whether I belonged in medicine, research, or graduate school, he helped me see my own resilience and potential more clearly. He supported my dream of becoming a physician, not because it sounded impressive, but because he understood that my desire to practice medicine came from a deep commitment to care, equity, and community. Losing Ryan changed me in ways that are difficult to summarize. Grief forced me to confront the fragility of life and the importance of showing up for people while we still can. It made me more honest about love, pain, and the need for community. It also taught me that meaningful relationships do not end simply because a person is no longer physically present. Ryan’s influence continues to shape the way I make decisions, the way I pursue my goals, and the way I try to care for others. Because of him, I have become more intentional about how I build connections. I try to listen more carefully. I try to ask better questions. I try to remember that people are often carrying more than they say out loud. This has shaped the way I approach my work in clinical research, my graduate education, and my long-term goal of becoming a physician. In medicine, connection is not a soft skill. It is central to trust, communication, and healing. Patients need providers who see them as whole people, not just diagnoses, symptoms, or data points. Ryan’s life also influenced my decision to found ReMix Science and Care, a nonprofit created to support underrepresented students in STEM and healthcare through mentorship, microgrants, and practical resources. ReMix was a dream I had carried for years, but Ryan became part of the reason I finally moved forward with it. His legacy reminds me that support can change the direction of someone’s life. Sometimes what a student needs most is not only ambition, but access, encouragement, and someone willing to believe in them before the rest of the world does. My relationship with Ryan has also influenced how I connect with people who are grieving, struggling, or trying to find their way through difficult seasons. I have learned that connection is not always about having the perfect words. Sometimes it is about presence. Sometimes it is about remembering someone’s name, checking in after the first wave of support has faded, or making space for pain without trying to rush someone into being okay. These lessons will stay with me in my personal life and in my future career. As I continue my education and work toward medical school, Ryan’s impact remains part of my purpose. He helped me believe that my experiences, even the painful ones, could be used in service of something larger. He taught me that love is not passive. Love builds, supports, challenges, and creates. The relationship we shared shaped who I am today because it showed me what it means to be deeply known and deeply encouraged. I hope to carry that forward in every space I enter. Whether I am mentoring students, coordinating research, caring for patients, or building community through ReMix Science and Care, I want people to feel seen, valued, and supported. Ryan’s life taught me that human connection can leave a legacy, and I hope my own life honors that lesson by helping others feel less alone as they pursue their futures.

I am passionate about studying uterine fibroids and endometriosis because I understand firsthand what it feels like to have pain dismissed, minimized, or misunderstood. For nearly ten years, I lived with symptoms that affected my daily life, my education, and my sense of trust in the healthcare system before I was finally diagnosed with fibroids and endometriosis. During my undergraduate years, the pain was not just physically exhausting, it interfered with my ability to focus, attend class, study consistently, and perform at the level I knew I was capable of. At times, it felt like I was trying to build an academic future while my body was fighting against me. For years, I knew something was wrong, but I did not have clear answers. That experience was frustrating and isolating, especially because reproductive pain is too often treated as something patients are expected to endure. I finally had surgery in 2024, and while that was an important step in my care, it also made me reflect on how long it took to get there. I could not help but wonder how different my undergraduate experience might have been if my pain had been taken seriously earlier. As a Black woman, this issue feels even more urgent. Black women are disproportionately affected by uterine fibroids, yet our pain and concerns are often dismissed in clinical settings. Many patients are left to navigate years of symptoms before receiving a diagnosis or a treatment plan that truly addresses their needs. My experience has made me deeply committed to becoming a physician who listens carefully, asks better questions, and refuses to normalize suffering simply because it is common. My academic goal is to continue building my foundation in biomedical science and medicine so that I can better understand the biological, clinical, and social factors that shape reproductive health outcomes. I am currently pursuing a Master of Biomedical Science degree at Charles R. Drew University, an HBCU with a mission rooted in health equity and service to underserved communities. This environment has strengthened my commitment to addressing conditions that disproportionately affect marginalized patients, including fibroids and endometriosis. Professionally, my goal is to become a physician who helps patients feel heard, believed, and supported. Whether I ultimately practice in pediatrics, primary care, emergency medicine, or another field, I know that reproductive health will remain part of how I understand patient advocacy. I want to help create clinical spaces where women, especially Black women, do not feel afraid to say they are in pain. I want patients to know that their symptoms are worth investigating and that their quality of life matters. I also hope to contribute to awareness and education around fibroids and endometriosis by speaking openly about delayed diagnosis, pain dismissal, and the need for culturally responsive care. Research and treatment are essential, but awareness is also powerful. Patients need language to describe their symptoms, providers need training to recognize patterns earlier, and communities need access to information that helps them advocate for themselves. My experience with fibroids and endometriosis changed the way I see medicine. It showed me how much harm can happen when pain is dismissed, but it also gave me a clearer vision for the kind of doctor I want to become. I want to be the physician who does not brush off a patient’s concerns. I want to be the physician who says, “I believe you, and we are going to figure this out.”.

One of the most significant ways I have been impacted by mental health was after the death of my partner, Ryan, last year. Losing him changed my life in ways I did not know how to explain at first. Grief did not arrive as one emotion. It came as shock, sadness, anger, exhaustion, confusion, and at times, a deep questioning of whether I wanted to keep going. After his death, I experienced suicidal thoughts, not because I did not value life, but because the pain felt so overwhelming that I struggled to imagine a future without him in it. That experience taught me that mental health challenges are not always visible. From the outside, I was still a graduate student, a clinical research coordinator, a nonprofit founder, and someone trying to keep responsibilities moving. Internally, I was learning how to survive a loss that reshaped my sense of safety, purpose, and identity. I had to learn that needing help did not make me weak. It made me human. Therapy, faith, family, community, and the people who continued to show up for me helped me begin to rebuild. They reminded me that grief could be carried, even when it could not be fixed. I have also been impacted by navigating STEM as a queer Black woman. In many academic and professional spaces, I have had to think carefully about how much of myself I could bring into the room. STEM often values objectivity, productivity, and achievement, but students do not enter these spaces as only résumés or transcripts. We bring our identities, losses, relationships, fears, responsibilities, and hopes with us. Being queer in STEM has made me more aware of how important representation and belonging are, especially for students who may already feel like they are entering fields that were not built with them in mind. These experiences have shaped the way I understand both medicine and mentorship. I know what it feels like to be high-functioning on the outside while struggling internally. I know what it feels like to question whether there is room for all parts of who I am in academic and professional spaces. Because of that, I want to become a physician and advocate who sees people fully. I want to serve patients and students with compassion, cultural humility, and an understanding that mental health, identity, and access are deeply connected. My experiences with grief, suicidal thoughts, and queer identity have not made my path easy, but they have made my purpose clearer. They pushed me to seek help, build community, and turn pain into service. They also influenced my decision to found ReMix Science and Care, a nonprofit that supports underrepresented students in STEM and healthcare through mentorship, microgrants, and practical resources. I want students to know that they do not have to overcome everything alone. Support can be the difference between giving up and continuing forward. Being impacted by mental health and LGBTQIA+ experiences has taught me that survival is not just an individual act. It is often made possible by care, community, and access to safe spaces. I hope to use my education and career to help create more of those spaces for others.

My academic goal is to successfully complete my Master of Biomedical Science degree at Charles R. Drew University and use this training to prepare for medical school. I chose this program because I wanted to strengthen my scientific foundation, prove my readiness for the rigor of medical education, and continue learning in an environment that is deeply connected to health equity, service, and community impact. As a graduate student, I am building a stronger foundation in biomedical science while also developing a deeper understanding of the social, clinical, and systemic factors that shape health outcomes. My long-term goal is to become a physician who serves underserved communities, especially communities of color that are often affected by barriers to care, delayed diagnosis, medical mistrust, and unequal access to resources. I am especially interested in pediatrics, emergency medicine, trauma care, and health equity. These interests have grown from my experiences as an EMT, clinical research coordinator, caregiver, graduate student, and nonprofit founder. Each of these roles has shown me a different side of medicine. As an EMT, I saw how quickly a patient’s life could change and how important it is to provide calm, compassionate care in moments of crisis. As a clinical research coordinator working in trauma and transfusion research, I have seen how research can improve the systems that support critically ill and injured patients. As a caregiver, I learned how confusing and overwhelming the healthcare system can feel for families trying to advocate for someone they love. These experiences have shaped the kind of physician I hope to become. I do not want to only treat patients after illness occurs. I want to understand the systems and circumstances that affect their health before they ever enter an exam room. I want to be the kind of doctor who listens carefully, explains clearly, and helps patients and families feel seen rather than dismissed. I also want to contribute to research and quality improvement efforts that make healthcare more accessible, equitable, and responsive to the needs of marginalized communities. In addition to my medical goals, I plan to continue expanding ReMix Science and Care, the nonprofit I founded to support underrepresented students in STEM and healthcare. Through mentorship, microgrants, educational resources, and community-building, I hope to reduce some of the financial and practical barriers that can prevent talented students from continuing their education. I know from experience that persistence alone is not always enough. Students also need support, access, guidance, and people who believe in their potential. Ultimately, my academic and career goals are connected by a larger commitment to service. I want to combine medicine, research, mentorship, and advocacy to help create pathways for both patients and students who have historically been overlooked. Completing my graduate degree is an important step toward medical school, but it is also part of a larger mission to use science and healthcare as tools for equity. This scholarship would help me continue my education with greater stability and allow me to stay focused on becoming a physician, researcher, and community advocate who works to expand access, representation, and opportunity in STEM and healthcare.

Absolutely. For this scholarship, I would not make the obstacle only “school is hard.” The strongest angle is: You pursued higher education while carrying grief, caregiving responsibilities, financial pressure, and the pressure of proving you belong in STEM as a Black woman, and you kept going because of your support system, faith, mentors, family, and the memory of Ryan. Here is a strong draft you can use or adapt: One of the greatest obstacles I have had to overcome in pursuit of higher education has been continuing my academic journey while navigating grief, financial pressure, and the responsibility of building a future that often felt uncertain. As a Black woman pursuing biomedical science, I have had to learn how to keep showing up in spaces where students like me are still underrepresented, while also carrying personal losses and responsibilities that were not visible on a transcript. After losing my partner, Ryan, I had to decide whether I would allow grief to stop me or whether I would let love and purpose push me forward. There were moments when graduate school, research, and planning for medical school felt overwhelming. I was balancing coursework, clinical research, and the emotional weight of trying to keep moving while mourning someone who deeply shaped my life. At the same time, I knew that my goals mattered, not only for me, but for the communities I hope to serve as a future physician. I did not overcome this obstacle alone. My family, mentors, professors, therapist, and faith community helped me continue when I did not always feel strong enough to do it by myself. My mother’s resilience has always reminded me why perseverance matters. My mentors in research and medicine helped me see that my experiences could become part of my purpose rather than something that disqualified me. My professors and classmates at Charles R. Drew University have also reminded me that I belong in STEM and that my voice, background, and perspective are needed. Ryan’s memory has also been a major source of motivation. His life continues to push me toward service, equity, and impact. In his honor, I founded ReMix Science and Care, a nonprofit designed to support underrepresented students in STEM and healthcare through mentorship, microgrants, and practical resources. What began as grief has become part of my mission to help other students access the support they need to keep going. Overcoming this obstacle taught me that persistence is not about pretending life is easy. It is about continuing with honesty, support, and purpose. Higher education has challenged me academically and personally, but it has also strengthened my commitment to becoming a physician who serves underserved communities and helps expand access for students who have historically been left out of STEM. William A. Lewis’s legacy of supporting underrepresented students resonates with me because I know firsthand how powerful it is when someone chooses to invest in students who are working to turn adversity into impact.