Science has made leaps and bounds since the discovery of the human genome. One way is the creation of gene editing, which creates an ethical slew of problems I have been in the grips of since my freshman year of high school, introducing me to a world of discovery I have not left since. The ethical complexity of the issue is a huge reason I got involved. Gene editing is not simply changing eye or hair color. It has power to prevent fatal illnesses from harming people and increase the quality of life. It also has the power to commit the most mass form of eugenics since the Holocaust. If the genetic code of a trait, genetic illness, hair color, skin tone, sexuality, etc., can be identified, it can also be altered. It would also have to happen only slightly after conception, and regardless of whether someone considers that bundle of cells a person or not, those cells still have no free will to discern if they want those changes to their very DNA. It is unknown how sexuality is caused genetically and what possible epigenetic factors play a role, but if it was known, how many people would choose not to have a gay child simply because they feel like there is a “better” option? And how is any of it different from Nazi targeting of specific religions, ethnicities, sexualities, or physical conditions? Because there is an improvement in the quality of lives of some individuals? Of course, there would be people benefiting, but the situations where the benefits outweigh potential problems are blurred lines at best. Technology is valuable and a sign of the changing times, but it requires an ethical balance on the edge of a razor blade between what can and should be edited in a potential human being. Once I realized that there are real possible people who could be changed because their parents wanted a more “ideal” child, I could never let it go. Science became the only career option that made sense to me. Once I realized there was a scientific way identities could be erased and lives altered, I wanted to know more because different people, perspectives, and identities matter so much more than one scientific development. I desired to see what was next in science, how much more we could do in the future months, years, and decades, and be a part of that change. I want to have a say in how potentially harmful technology is used and prevent science from going too far. Science is my way to advocate for those who can't, battling on both scientific and ethical fronts.

As a kid, I could never decide on a job because I wanted to be everything—to know and learn everything. As I got older, I realized that was impossible. I also realized I didn’t want to be everything; I just wanted to keep learning more. I realized in middle school that I liked science. I enjoyed every class, but science was different; it clicked how nothing else did. This revelation led me to take biomedical science in my first year of high school. Overall, the class is a blur now, except for one thing: gene editing. I was immediately consumed by the concept. This technology that could cause so much good and evil became a catalyst for me. The idea that it has the power to prevent fatal illnesses from harming people and increase the quality of life, but it also has the power to commit the most mass form of eugenics since the Holocaust. Any known genetic code can be altered within the first few weeks of conception. Over the years, the idea never left me. Three years after learning what gene editing is, I wrote a paper on the ethics of it, an excuse to keep learning more about this idea that had become a fundamental part of my passion for biology. I thought I had decided on biology. I knew what I wanted and how to do it. Then, I took AP Chemistry, and that view of the future changed. Every single lab, test, and work outside class solidified it. The class was frustrating, but I did not care because I was desperate for more. The world felt bigger, knowing the little bonds that made the world what it was. I spent hours helping others, learning to be a more understanding person and how to teach my peers. AP Chemistry did not only teach me course content; I bonded with my classmates while overcoming arduous content. Beyond that, I knew I could do things I had previously thought I couldn’t. It gave me confidence in my capabilities, establishing who I am and what I know I can do. When the world felt most certain, my grandfather got diagnosed with terminal cancer. If my past classes gave me purpose, then this is what gave me direction. I saw him in pain and wanted it to end for both of us. I realized I could be responsible in easing that pain for other people, even if it is too late for him. It seemed to be the only option; testing and synthesizing new medicines for people in pain, working in a lab to discover the next big breakthrough. This was the one idea that just clicked from the moment I thought of it. Even now, I want to help others in the way I best know how: with my head and the passion to pursue everything I can.

I don't watch a lot of movies. I don't usually sit still that long or pay that much attention to one thing. Because of that, my favorite movie is one I watched when sick. Anytime I was sick growing up, it was a comfort and way to pass the time. I know every line and every song even now, years later. Disney's Tangled is usually considered a traditional princess story; a girl escapes the life she knows after meeting a man. However, that is never what resonated with me. For me, it was a story about joy and exploration. Rapunzel gets to dream of a big and beautiful world, and she gets to achieve it, seeing the lanterns of her childhood dreams. I wanted to be her: growing my hair out and dreaming of far-out places. I grew up in the same town my mother did; there was no "far-out" location, only a small town with incredible Italian food and the same schools my mother went to. It felt claustrophobic at times: my sister's MRI done by my mother's ex boyfriend and my aunt only three houses away. But Rapunzel escaped her tower, and although the real world was scary and dangerous, she survived that too. She holds her own, even when her love interest Flynn tries to scare her into turning around. Rapunzel is not scared of the unknown. She charges into it, ready to learn everything she can about the world she's discovered. I am not that bold; but the idea made me a more daring child, instead of one scared of her own shadow. College always seemed like its own far-out endeavor, impossibly far away and unreal. But then I grew up. This impossible idea is suddenly right in front of my eyes. Because of my childhood, I still dreamed of those far-out lantern places, an idealized magical place. And I know that is ridiculous, but I know that wanting to explore new places isn't. I was inspired to apply further away and dream of bigger and better places than the community colleges of my own back yard. And not that there is any shame in staying close, but it was never meant for me. I rewatched Tangled a few months ago during a free day in Government. I hadn't realized how much that story had impacted me. It had written on my soul, given me an idea, a fantasy of chasing the wildest dreams and looking at learning as something to savor.

As a kid, I could never decide on a job because I wanted to be everything—to know and learn everything. As I got older, I realized that was impossible. I also realized I didn’t want to be everything; I just wanted to keep learning more. I realized in middle school that I liked science. I enjoyed every class, but science was different; it clicked how nothing else did. This revelation led me to take biomedical science in my first year of high school. Overall, the class is a blur now, except for one thing: gene editing. I was immediately consumed by the concept. This technology that could cause so much good and evil became a catalyst for me. The idea that it has the power to prevent fatal illnesses from harming people and increase the quality of life, but it also has the power to commit the most mass form of eugenics since the Holocaust. Any known genetic code can be altered within the first few weeks of conception. Over the years, the idea never left me. Three years after learning what gene editing is, I wrote a paper on the ethics of it, an excuse to keep learning more about this idea that had become a fundamental part of my passion for biology. I thought I had decided on biology. I knew what I wanted and how to do it. Then, I took AP Chemistry, and that view of the future changed. Every single lab, test, and work outside class solidified it. The class was frustrating, but I did not care because I was desperate for more. The world felt bigger, knowing the little bonds that made the world what it was. I spent hours helping others, learning to be a more understanding person and how to teach my peers. AP Chemistry did not only teach me course content; I bonded with my classmates while overcoming arduous content. Beyond that, I knew I could do things I had previously thought I couldn’t. It gave me confidence in my capabilities, establishing who I am and what I know I can do. And through it all, I still always wanted to know more. This craving is what brought me to research. I could still learn more beyond a classroom setting. That was when the last piece clicked into place; I could not be everything, but I could always keep learning more. Research begins as early as when getting a bachelor’s degree and was a prominent factor when deciding on a college. I could even continue learning after a bachelor’s and pursue a Masters and PhD, allowing me to run my own labs and have an impact with what I have learned. With research, there is constant discovery—not always groundbreaking or easy—but always a chance to unearth a new concept.

When I was younger, I could never pick what I wanted to be when I grew up. I wanted to know everything, whether it was as a doctor, a journalist, or even a ballerina. I am not going to be any of those things, but I am still planning to learn as much as I can. Technically, the closest alignment to what I wanted to be as a kid and now is a doctor. "Elmo Visits The Doctor" was my favorite Sesame Street episode; I would throw a fit if my parents couldn't find the tape. Now, I still love medicine. I learn about diseases for fun from used textbooks I bought and have taken more medical and science classes than any other class type. But despite this, I do not want to be a doctor. Since I learned how broad the medical field was, doctor has not cut it. I loved science, but I did not want to see patients all day. So instead I learned about other fields. I considered pharmacy, pathophysiology, and forensics pathology. In the end, I discovered that there is one main thing I love the most about science and the medical field, and it is the same thing that made it so hard to choose a career. I was always curious to know more. That's why I know research science is the path I should take because I get to know and discover more, which is what I always wanted. As for a journalist, I have realized I don't want to be on the front lines of disasters or compete in the race for media attention. I used to enjoy writing but never had a creative bone in my body. I love letting the words flow out of me like water, but I also know that I cannot only write and interview people. I would get frustrated and bored to the point where I would hate it. But still, this harks back to research; I get the opportunity to write research papers, to publish words to reach across miles. But this time, I would not only write, but I would also get to do something in the lab and experience real hands-on experiences. I would get to take the aspects I enjoy of writing and make it something even more tangible. Although it may sound ridiculous, ballerina was a dream I only had well after my first doctor phase. Despite dancing for ten years of my childhood, I knew it was not a sustainable life. I loved being on stage, but my body was not built to be a dancer. I sustained injury after injury until there was no longer a passion for my dancing. Then, I discovered another way to be on stage: public speaking. I joined a school club and learned to get over stage fright and voice cracks, learned to convey vast meaning in one word, and loved every minute of it. In research, if I make significant findings, I would need to present them at various conferences, where this stage presence would finally come in handy. In a way, the younger me had no idea what she wanted to be when she grew up. In another way, she knew all the components she needed, just not a job that would fit all those things. But now I do.