There’s something to be said that a fragile, delicate thing such as a vase—or perhaps a baby—should be met with care. However, there are times when this does not happen. I was born a healthy baby girl, but my birth was not a soft one. I was pulled and tugged, and because of this, I was left disabled. When it rains, it pours—this traumatizing experience was followed by surgeries, physical therapy, and lawsuits. By six, I was thrust into the world of medicine and surgery—something no child should have to experience. Instead of playing outside with kids my age, I spent my days with nurses, therapy dogs, and medicine that tasted like expired cherries. By seven, it was time to face the truth: we had lost the lawsuit, and I wasn’t responding well to physical therapy or surgeries. The insurance company labeled me “unhealable,” and the people around me began to give up—and for a while, so did I. But the hardest part wasn’t the financial or physical struggle—it was the silence. My disability became something we didn’t talk about, like a secret. My mother wanted me to be unstoppable, to ignore my disability and live as if it didn’t exist. My father, on the other hand, kept me inside, as if I were something to be hidden. Both extremes left me feeling lost between who I was and who I was expected to be. Eventually, I realized that I couldn’t keep living for other people’s expectations. I couldn’t control my disability, but I could control how I responded to it. I began pouring my energy into school, specifically STEM. Science gave me purpose—it was something I could build, prove, and share. I spent countless hours in labs studying biology and chemistry, eventually joining a research lab where I became a leader among my peers. Our work focused on Deinococcus bacteria, an extremophile known for its incredible resilience. I co-authored and presented my research, “Methodological Considerations for the Study of Twitch Motility in Deinococcus,” at the American Society for Microbiology. Through that experience, I found my voice as both a scientist and a leader and using this voice, I was able to bridge the gap so that students like me could see themselves in positions like this. Beyond the lab, I served as a leader in Women’s Rising, a club dedicated to empowering women in academics and leadership. I helped create a safe space for young women to share their stories, find their confidence, and see their worth beyond the barriers placed before them. That experience taught me that leadership isn’t about authority—it’s about empathy and building community through shared strength. My experiences with medical negligence have driven me to use my background in STEM to make sure what happened to me never happens to others. I want to dedicate my life to research in microbiology, immunology, and neurorehabilitation—fields that can bridge the gap between medicine and compassion. I plan to use science as a tool to protect people, improve lives, and ensure that no one else is ever dismissed as “unhealable.”

1: I was born with a brachial plexus injury due to medical malpractice—an event that shaped every part of my life before I even had the language to understand it. Living with a disability hasn’t just influenced how I interact with the world; it’s defined my motivation for the future. I know what it’s like to grow up navigating a healthcare system that isn’t always designed for people like me. If I could do anything, I’d dedicate my life to preventing what happened to me from happening to others. I want to work at the intersection of neuroscience, immunology, and biology to develop solutions that improve healthcare outcomes—especially for disabled patients, people with chronic illnesses, and those who have experienced medical neglect. My ultimate goal is to become a research scientist specializing in neuroimmunology and clinical neuroscience, working to both advance treatment and advocate for accountability in medicine. What motivates me is the chance to give voice to people who are often left out of science and medicine—not just patients, but disabled scientists and students, too. I believe in using my education and lived experience as tools for advocacy, innovation, and systemic change. Whether it’s mentoring underrepresented students, conducting meaningful research, or creating more accessible healthcare technologies, I want to spend my life pushing science forward while pulling others up with me. In short: I’m here to make sure no one feels alone in their pain, and that science serves all of us—not just the privileged few. 2: What excites me most about STEM is its potential to bridge gaps—between people and solutions, between injustice and reform. As someone with a disability caused by medical malpractice, I understand firsthand the importance of innovation that doesn’t just serve the average person but includes those most at risk of being overlooked. STEM allows me to pursue answers that are deeply personal. It gives me the power to improve systems that failed me. I currently work in a microbiology research lab studying Deinococcus bacteria, an extremophilic species with the potential to protect cells against radiation and oxidative stress. I’ve presented and published this research through the American Society for Microbiology (ASM) and the Arizona-Nevada Academy of Science (ANAS). These experiences have taught me how research can directly impact real-world problems. I see information technology as an essential part of modern STEM solutions—especially in healthcare. Whether it’s through improving patient data systems, increasing diagnostic accuracy, or developing platforms that help track neurological recovery, it has the potential to prevent harm and increase equity. I want to apply my scientific background and personal experiences to design tech-driven healthcare tools that prioritize safety, accessibility, and representation. More broadly, I want to help build a healthcare system that’s not only more efficient but more ethical. I believe it can play a central role in creating accountability in medicine—ensuring fewer mistakes, better outcomes, and more patient-centered care. That’s the kind of impact I hope to make: one that makes science smarter, medicine safer, and people’s lives better. 3: The greatest challenge I’ve had to overcome has been living—and succeeding—with a disability in a field that often prizes physical precision and invisibly able-bodied norms. My brachial plexus injury, caused by medical malpractice at birth, affects the movement and strength of my arm. For a long time, I believed this would hold me back from becoming a scientist. Lab work is hands-on, and the spaces I entered weren’t built with disabled students in mind. I struggled with self-doubt, isolation, and the pressure to mask my limitations just to be taken seriously. But I refused to let that stop me. I found ways to adapt in lab settings, asking for accommodations, modifying my techniques, and finding mentors who believed in my ability, not just my disability. I leaned into what I could control—my curiosity, my drive, my resilience. I joined research programs, presented at conferences, and now contribute to published work in microbiology, even as I pursue a path in neuroscience. This journey taught me that strength doesn’t always look like ease—it often looks like persistence. And my disability, once something I tried to hide, became the very reason I push so hard to succeed. It gave me a perspective that many don’t have—a reason to demand more inclusive, more ethical science. I overcame this challenge not by pretending I was like everyone else, but by embracing that I wasn’t—and recognizing that difference as an asset. Now, I carry that lesson into every space I enter: I belong here, and so do others like me.

Growing up with a brachial plexus injury—a disability caused by medical malpractice at birth—shaped not only how I moved through the world, but how I saw myself within it. For a long time, I carried quiet doubts, wondering if my physical limitations would always define me. I found myself trying to hide parts of who I was, especially as I pursued a field like biology and neuroscience—one that’s hands-on, demanding, and where I rarely, if ever, saw anyone who looked like me or shared my experiences. It often felt like I was chasing a dream that wasn’t meant for someone with my challenges. But over time, my perspective began to shift. What I once viewed as something to conceal became a source of strength. Living with a disability has taught me more about resilience, patience, and determination than anything else could have. It reshaped my beliefs about what it means to be capable and successful. I realized that adversity doesn’t diminish potential—it gives you a deeper understanding of empathy, perseverance, and the importance of being seen. My disability isn’t a barrier anymore; it’s the reason I’m so passionate about improving healthcare for people with neurological injuries and chronic conditions. This journey has also changed how I approach relationships. I used to be afraid of standing out or being seen as “different,” but now I value surrounding myself with people who appreciate authenticity. I’ve learned that real connection comes from embracing vulnerability and growing through shared experiences. It’s this mindset that drives me to advocate for those who feel overlooked or underestimated—because I’ve been there too. That same passion extends into my leadership roles. As a Student Ambassador for the Nina Mason Pulliam Scholars Program, I represent students who have faced significant life challenges, using my story to encourage others. I’m also a leader in Women Rising, where I help support women pursuing education and careers in STEM, and I serve as a student government member with the Psychology/Psi Beta Club. Whether I’m speaking on panels, organizing events, or simply offering support to peers, I strive to create spaces where people feel seen, heard, and empowered—especially those from marginalized backgrounds or living with disabilities. My career goals are deeply personal. I’m currently pursuing a degree in biology with plans to specialize in neuroscience, focusing on the kinds of neurological injuries I live with every day. I want to be part of the research and advocacy that leads to better treatments, greater awareness, and a future where patients receive not just care—but understanding. I hope to show others that there is a place for people like us in science and medicine. Receiving this scholarship would help me continue turning my personal challenges into a platform for change. It would support my education, allow me to grow as a leader, and fuel my commitment to making healthcare more inclusive and effective for those who need it most.

I’m a first-generation college student with a passion and heart for science, community, and making a real difference in people’s lives. A lot of what drives me comes from the challenges I’ve faced—growing up without financial or academic support, I had to navigate my education and future on my own. Balancing school, work, and leadership roles taught me resilience, but it also shaped my desire to use what I’ve learned to help others facing similar obstacles. I believe education and science should be accessible, impactful, and centered on improving lives—not just in theory, but in practice. My passion for neuroscience is deeply personal. I was born with a brachial plexus injury caused by medical malpractice—an experience that made me aware, from a young age, of how fragile and complex the human body is, especially the nervous system. Living with a neurological disability fueled my curiosity. I didn’t just want to accept my condition—I wanted to understand it. Over time, that curiosity evolved into a commitment to research. I want to be part of the work that leads to better treatments, earlier interventions, and—most importantly—prevention, so fewer people have to experience what I did. That drive led me to pursue research opportunities early in my academic career. I’ve published and presented my work, “Methodological Considerations for the Study of Twitch Motility in Deinococcus,” at both the American Society for Microbiology and the Arizona-Nevada Academy of Science Conference at Arizona State University. These experiences taught me how much I enjoy being in a research environment—asking questions, testing ideas, and contributing to knowledge that can lead to real-world solutions. But my goals go beyond the lab. I’m passionate about advocacy, representation, and public health. Through my roles as a Student Ambassador in the Nina Mason Pulliam Scholars Program and a club leader in Women Rising, I’ve worked to support underrepresented students and create spaces where people feel seen, heard, and empowered. I know firsthand how important it is to have role models and mentors who understand your experiences, especially in fields like STEM where diversity is still lacking. I’m currently completing my Associate in Biological Sciences and plan to transfer to Arizona State University’s accelerated program to earn my Bachelor’s in Neuroscience and Master’s in Molecular and Cellular Biology. This program will give me the foundation to pursue a career in research, focusing on neurological disorders, cellular therapies, and the intersection of science and public health