My name is Talla Sayyad, and I am a recent graduate of Crofton High School. I’m currently continuing my education as a freshman at Marymount University, where I major in Biology on the pre-med track, with the goal of one day becoming a radiologist. I have always been passionate about science and service, and I hope to dedicate my career to helping others find healing and hope. One of the most meaningful lessons I have learned in high school is the importance of caring for my mental health. For me, this lesson became especially clear during the year I lived in Jerusalem. Being far from home, surrounded by a different culture and constant reminders of political tension, challenged me in ways I had never experienced before. At times, I felt isolated and overwhelmed, but it was in those moments that I discovered the strength of resilience. I learned that acknowledging my emotions, rather than pushing them aside, was an essential part of staying healthy both mentally and spiritually. My faith also gave me grounding during that time. In Islam, we are taught that taking care of our hearts and minds is just as important as caring for our bodies. Turning to prayer gave me a sense of calm and reminded me that even when I felt alone, I was never truly alone. That mindset carried me through some of the hardest days and reminded me that mental health is not a weakness but a sign of humanity. Back in the United States, I carried these lessons with me. High school came with its own set of pressures: balancing academics, relationships, and responsibilities. I began to notice how many of my peers struggled silently with stress or anxiety because of the stigma around talking about mental health. Through my own journey, I realized that vulnerability can be a source of strength. Opening up to a trusted friend, teacher, or family member can transform the way someone experiences a challenge. I learned that sometimes the most powerful form of support is simply being willing to listen. As I step into college, I plan to carry these lessons forward. In the years to come, I want to use my experiences to help others feel less alone. Whether it is through joining student organizations, volunteering, or eventually becoming a physician, I want to create spaces where conversations about mental health feel safe and welcomed. I believe that true healing begins when people feel seen, understood, and valued for who they are. Mental health is an ongoing journey, not a destination. What I learned in high school, especially during my time in Palestine, is that resilience, faith, and compassion can carry us through the hardest moments. These are lessons I will continue to apply for the rest of my life, not only for myself but also for the people I hope to serve in the future.

One of the first lessons I learned from Islam is that caring for others is an act of worship, and that belief has guided every step of my journey. I grew up in a Palestinian household in the United States, where faith and family shaped my values and goals. Later, when I spent a year living in Jerusalem, I experienced what it meant to be surrounded by people from many different faiths and cultures. Even with our differences, I saw that everyone shared the same basic needs: health, safety, and compassion. Those experiences deepened my belief that service is at the heart of my purpose, and that healthcare is one of the best ways I can live that out. My background has also taught me resilience. As the daughter of immigrants, I understood that education was not something to take for granted. I watched my parents work hard and sacrifice, and I knew that their dreams for me came with responsibility. Balancing school with work and personal challenges has not always been easy, but my faith has kept me grounded. Islam teaches patience and perseverance, and I carried those lessons into the classroom. Whenever I felt overwhelmed, I reminded myself that hard work with good intentions is rewarded, and that mindset helped me stay focused and committed. My goal is to become a radiologist. I am drawn to radiology because of the way it provides answers during moments of uncertainty. A scan can catch an illness early, ease a family’s worries, or guide a doctor in saving someone’s life. It is often behind the scenes, but it is essential. I want to be part of that process, not just interpreting images but also reassuring patients and families who may be facing fear and doubt. To me, medicine is about more than knowledge; it is about compassion, service, and offering hope. As a Muslim woman, I also know the importance of representation. Women who wear the hijab, who come from immigrant families, or who share my background are rarely seen in leadership positions in medicine. I want to help change that. I want patients to feel comfort in knowing their doctor understands their culture and respects their values. I also want young Muslim girls to see me and believe that their dreams are possible, no matter how big they are. My hijab reminds me every day to carry myself with dignity and integrity, and I hope to embody those qualities in every space I enter. Looking ahead, I am committed to paying it forward. I would not be here without the guidance of mentors, teachers, and my community, and I want to be that source of encouragement for others. I hope to mentor younger Muslim students, showing them that their faith is not a barrier but a source of strength. I also dream of using my skills to serve underserved communities both here in the United States and in Palestine, where access to advanced healthcare is limited. Ultimately, Islam has taught me that serving others is one of the most meaningful ways to live. My faith and background have shaped not only who I am but also the kind of physician I want to become. Through medicine, I hope to honor those values, uplift others, and open doors for future generations of Muslim women to follow with confidence and pride.

For as long as I can remember, I have been drawn to the idea of helping people feel cared for and understood. Growing up in a Palestinian household in the United States, and later spending a year in Jerusalem, I was surrounded by people from different faiths and cultures including Muslims, Christians, and Jewish Israelis. What stood out to me most wasn’t the differences, but how similar our needs were when it came to health, safety, and compassion. Those experiences showed me that healthcare is more than science, it’s a way to connect with people on the deepest level, no matter who they are or where they come from. I chose to pursue a degree in biology on a pre-medical track because I want to become a radiologist. I am fascinated by how radiology provides answers when patients need clarity the most, and how while it’s often behind the scenes, it is life-changing. It can be the diagnosis that catches something early, the scan that eases a family’s worries, or the confirmation that guides treatment. I want to be part of that process, not only using knowledge to help people but also offering reassurance during moments of fear and uncertainty. As a Muslim woman, I know that representation in healthcare is powerful. Many women, especially women of color, do not always see themselves reflected in doctors or leaders in medicine. I hope to change that. By stepping into this field with pride in who I am, I want to show young girls, especially those who share my background, that their dreams are valid and possible. I want patients to look at me and feel comfort in knowing that someone understands their culture, their faith, or simply their need to be respected and heard. I also see healthcare as a way to give back, both here at home and abroad. In my community in the United States, I hope to create spaces where patients of all backgrounds feel safe and valued. Long-term, I dream of contributing to healthcare in places like Palestine, where access to resources is limited. For me, medicine is not just about a career. It is about carrying forward the values of compassion and resilience that I was raised with, and using them to make the world a little better. Ultimately, I believe I can make a difference, not only as a doctor, but as a woman who brings empathy, understanding, and strength into the field. I know the journey will take hard work, but I also know that I have the dedication to see it through. My hope is that years from now, the impact I leave will be measured not only in scans or reports, but also in the people who felt seen, cared for, and inspired along the way.

Growing up in a Palestinian household in the United States, I’ve always balanced two identities. At home, I was surrounded by the richness of my culture—the aroma of my mother’s cooking, the sounds of Arabic conversations, and the values of hospitality and resilience passed down through generations. Yet, outside my home, I encountered misunderstandings about my heritage. Being Palestinian in the U.S. meant carrying both pride and the responsibility of explaining a history that is often overlooked. However, my understanding of my identity deepened profoundly when I moved to Jerusalem during my junior year of high school. For the first time, I was fully immersed in the land and culture that had always been a distant but powerful part of me. I attended school in Arabic, a language I was still mastering, and faced the challenge of keeping up in a highly competitive academic environment. At home, my responsibilities grew when my mother returned to the U.S. for work, leaving me to care for my younger siblings while my father struggled to find employment. The weight of these experiences—financial hardship, language barriers, and political instability—forced me to grow in ways I never expected. I struggled with depression and the pressure to stay strong for my family, yet through these challenges, I discovered resilience I didn’t know I had. Despite the hardships, I found strength in giving back to my community. I began volunteering at my local mosque, teaching English to children, and witnessing the power of education in breaking barriers. I also pushed myself to step out of my comfort zone, exploring different parts of the city and encouraging my siblings to engage in activities that brought them joy. My commitment to my education never wavered; I worked hard, earning high marks on my exams despite the obstacles in my way. These experiences solidified my belief that education is a tool for empowerment, and no matter the circumstances, knowledge and perseverance can create change. Ultimately, my family and I made the difficult decision for me to return to the U.S. for my senior year, a choice that carried both relief and guilt. Leaving my father and siblings behind was painful, but I knew I needed an environment where I could thrive academically and focus on my future. This experience taught me one of the most valuable lessons of my life: sometimes, the hardest decisions are the ones that lead to the greatest personal growth. My time in Jerusalem not only strengthened my identity but also deepened my passion for medicine. Witnessing disparities in healthcare access, particularly among marginalized communities, made me realize the critical need for compassionate and culturally competent medical professionals. I saw how language barriers and financial struggles prevented people from receiving proper care, and I became determined to be part of the solution. My goal is to become a radiologist, a field that combines my love for science with the ability to provide essential diagnostic care to patients of all backgrounds. I want to be a physician who ensures that cultural differences never prevent someone from receiving quality healthcare. As I continue my education, I plan to use my experiences to foster greater understanding and inclusion. I want to create spaces where people from different backgrounds can share their stories and learn from one another. Whether through cultural exchange events, mentorship programs for first-generation students, or discussions on identity and belonging, I hope to contribute to an environment where everyone feels seen and supported. Additionally, I want to use my voice to advocate for greater awareness of Palestinian culture and history. By sharing my traditions, cuisine, and personal experiences, I aim to bridge cultural gaps and encourage meaningful dialogue. My Palestinian heritage has given me a profound sense of resilience, empathy, and purpose. It’s taught me to embrace challenges as opportunities for growth and to use my experiences to uplift others. As I pursue my education and career in medicine, I will carry these values with me, always striving to make a difference in both my community and the world. Through my journey, I have learned that identity is not just about where you come from—it is about how you use your experiences to shape the world around you. My Palestinian roots have given me the strength to persevere, the compassion to connect with others, and the drive to create meaningful change. I hope to continue building bridges between cultures, breaking down barriers in healthcare, and making a lasting impact on the lives of those I serve.