My father stared down the concrete steps as if they were an impossible mountain. Just three years after his diagnosis with Multiple System Atrophy (MSA), the disease had already stolen his balance, coordination, and confidence. With tears in his eyes, he whispered in Haitian Creole, “Mwen paka pab”—I can’t do this. I countered with a weak, “Yes, you can,” in English, even as I fought back my own sobs. Wheeling my father's fragile body, bathing him and feeding him became part of my daily life. But the greater challenge was learning how to nurture hope when despair seemed easier. In those moments, I discovered the Haitian phrase that now defines me: Mwen ka pab. Yes, I can. Even after certified nursing assistants took over my father’s care, his disheartening words echoed in my mind, shaping my own self-doubt. I heard “mwen paka pab” during late nights balancing algebra homework with dishwashing shifts, during track practices when my legs begged me to stop, and during rushed music rehearsals before cello festivals. For a long time, I internalized his defeat. But gradually, I learned to silence it. At the New York State Championship, when fatigue overwhelmed me in the final stretch, I replaced “mwen paka pab” with “mwen ka pab” and surged from last to third place. That race marked the moment I realized I could rewrite the script of my life. Today, as a Yale student-athlete, six school recordser and an Ivy League champion in the 800m, I realized how Athletics gave me discipline and resilience, but caregiving gave me purpose. Witnessing my father lose his independence sparked my passion for biomedical engineering and neurotechnology. I want to design tools that restore communication and dignity to patients whose voices and movements have been taken from them. My current research internship at MIT’s BrainSwitch project, which develops novel brain-computer interfaces, propels me toward that mission. I lived firsthand the frustration of watching someone I love silenced by disease. I know that technology can bestow a better quality of life to patients that have been robbed of theirs due to their disease. Looking forward, I plan to dedicate my career to bridging engineering with compassion. I envision developing neuroprosthetics and brain-computer interfaces that give patients the ability to speak again, to move again, to live with dignity again. Beyond the lab, I am organizing a fundraiser called "MissionMSA Run" to support research and awareness for families like mine who face this devastating illness. My goal is to ensure that no one feels as voiceless and hopeless as my father once did. As the daughter of Haitian immigrants, a caregiver turned advocate, and an athlete who runs not just for myself, but for those who cannot, I am more than motivated to live out the research ambitious goals I have set for myself using my "Mwen ka pab" mantra. Through my career in biomedical engineering, I will turn it into a promise. A promise to my father, to future patients, and to the world: Yes, we can.

Telepathy, once a concept confined to science fiction or the playful jokes between my twin sister and me, has become a tangible reality. It is no longer something of fantasy; it is a lifeline, a possibility, and a hope that could transform the lives of those suffering from progressive neurodegenerative diseases. My passion for biomedical engineering and neurotechnology stems from a personal journey that continues to drive me every day. I am determined to ensure that patients whose bodies have failed them are not deprived of their ability to communicate, just as my father was. As a child, I witnessed the steady decline of my father, who was diagnosed with Multiple System Atrophy (MSA), a cruel and degenerative disease that stripped him of everything we take for granted—his ability to move, to speak, and to interact with the world. Over time, his hands contorted into fists, and his body became increasingly confined to a hospital bed. Yet, despite this, my father never lost his sharp wit or his ability to think, to see, or to feel. As his primary caregiver before he needed a ventilator to breathe, it was unbearably painful for me to watch him struggle—unable to speak, unable to express his frustration, his intelligence, his love, or his humor, which was so much a part of who he was. The silence was deafening. And in that silence, I found my calling. I became obsessed with the idea of restoring his voice through neuroprosthetics, through the technology that could bypass his physical constraints and reconnect him with the world. As I studied biomedical engineering and became involved in neurotechnology research, I began to see how brain-computer interfaces (BCIs) could offer hope to people like my father. Paralysis, I believe, should never rob a person of their ability to connect with their family, their friends, and their world. And while my father’s life was tragically cut short, I am determined to carry on his legacy by dedicating my life to the development of technologies that restore autonomy and communication to those silenced by their bodies. In my current role as a research intern at MIT's BrainSwitch, I’ve had the opportunity to engage with cutting-edge neurotechnology that brings us closer to this reality. My work on a BCI research review for a soon-to-be-published article has propelled me into this field as just an undergraduate student.Leading up to my undergraduate years has been marked by financial difficulties in pursuing my dreams. The absence of my father’s income and his accumulating medical debts has made it challenging to afford the resources necessary to continue my education and research. Despite these obstacles, I remain unwavering in my commitment to my studies and my goal of making a meaningful impact in the lives of those affected by neurodegenerative diseases. I am determined to be at the forefront of neurotechnological innovation, restoring the voices of those who have been silenced by illness, giving them back not only the ability to express but also to live. Through the development of BCIs, I believe we can offer patients like my father a new world where they are no longer shackled by the limitations of their bodies. In my pursuit of this goal, every setback has only strengthened my resolve. The opportunity to contribute to this field, to restore communication and autonomy to those suffering, is what drives me every day. And, with the support of this scholarship, I will continue my journey, carrying the memory of my late father with me as I work to ensure that no one else has to face the same silence he did.

I have an unwavering belief in the power of technology to transform lives—whether in communication, transportation, or medicine. However, while neurotechnology and the broader tech field are rapidly expanding, they remain stagnant in the demographic makeup of the pioneers leading their growth. I even questioned my own candidacy when pursuing this field, frightened by the shockingly low statistic that only 2.5% of the engineering workforce comprises Black women, according to the research group Catalyst. Although these numbers are discouraging, they give me a sense of urgency—a calling to help dismantle this statistic through my own triumphant journey in this career path. As a biomedical engineering major at Yale University, my ultimate goal is to obtain an MD/Ph.D. and become a physician-scientist specializing in neurodegenerative diseases and neurotechnology. I am deeply passionate about harnessing cutting-edge innovations—such as brain-computer interfaces, biosensors, and neuroprosthetics—to restore communication and function for patients who have been robbed of their autonomy and ability to connect with others. Conditions like Multiple System Atrophy (MSA), which impacted my own father, have fueled my desire to lead in this field and develop tangible solutions for those suffering from debilitating neurological disorders—not limited to MSA. Watching my father gradually lose his ability to walk, talk, and eat due to MSA was devastating. But it also lit a fire within me. I couldn’t accept that someone so full of life could be left so voiceless. That experience made me realize I want to do more than treat symptoms—I want to be part of a generation that reinvents what’s possible through neurotechnological advancement. Through interdisciplinary collaboration between engineering, neuroscience, and medicine, I want to create a future where no patient feels isolated within their own body and can harness the power of technology to reclaim their independence and quality of life. This scholarship would significantly support my journey by allowing me to invest more deeply in research opportunities, attend conferences to stay on the cutting edge of neurotechnology, and reduce the financial burden on my family—especially my mother, who has worked tirelessly to support me and my four sisters since my father became disabled. The ability to dedicate myself fully to academic and research excellence without financial strain would be truly transformative. Throughout my education, I have faced challenges that have shaped my resilience and fueled my ambition. I struggled to balancing my rigorous academic course load while caring for my father. My father's diagnosis of Multiple Systems Atrophy stole his autonomy to walk, talk, and even eat. It curled his hands into fists and confined him to a hospital bed. His illness generated significant financial stress for my family of six. My mother would mutter "mwen paka pab" as she eagerly removed her scrubs after her long overtime shifts, working relentlessly to support me and my four sisters in the absence of my father’s income. Later, as I massaged the life back into her limbs, I offered the same vapid encouragement to her that I gave to my father. While I was able to be strong for my family, constantly hearing that gesture of defeat infused my consciousness with negativity. However, the next phase of my life, leading to where I stand today, is the story of drowning out this all-encompassing despondency by forcing myself to internalize another Haitian sentence: Mwen ka pab. I now dare to keep aiming higher. My most ambitious endeavor is unfolding as I embark on my academic pursuits in biomedical engineering and neuroimaging research at Yale University. Diversity and inclusion are not abstract ideals to me—they are the foundation of my identity and my mission. As a Haitian-American woman in STEM, I understand the significance of representation and the power of creating spaces where individuals from all backgrounds can contribute. The space of technology deserves diverse voices, ideas, and creativity. I believe diverse perspectives drive better science, deeper empathy, and more innovative solutions—especially in neurotechnology, where cultural understanding is just as essential as technical expertise. This path is more than a career for me—it is a calling. It is a promise I made to my father, and to every patient who deserves not just care, but connection, dignity, and hope. Through this scholarship, I hope to one day become a leader who not only transforms lives through science but also empowers the next generation of engineers to pursue their technological dreams with purpose, inclusion, and relentless dedication.

“Your dreams should scare you. In fact, they should be so ambitious and ‘unrealistic’ that other people think you’re crazy for even imagining their possibility.” The microphone rippled those words through the crowded and energetic auditorium, allowing the audience to truly digest the weight of my claim. As I stood there in my cap and gown, embodying my status as a Class of 2023 salutatorian, Yale-bound student-athlete, and the first female international medalist for Haiti, those words grounded me on that stage and settled deep within my soul. My entire high school career serves as a compelling testament to the power of dreaming—and, more importantly, to the power of believing in yourself and your dreams. My father had only been diagnosed with Multiple System Atrophy for three years by then, but it had already stolen his ability to walk, talk, and even eat. It curled his hands into fists and confined him to a hospital bed. Although my caregiving role was eventually taken on by the CNAs at MeadowBrook Care Center, my father’s dispiriting “mwen paka pab” continued to echo in the depths of my mind, tormenting me. Equally disheartening, my mother would mutter "mwen paka pab" as she peeled off her scrubs after long overtime shifts, working relentlessly to support me and my four sisters in the absence of my father’s income. While I was able to challenge my parents’ despair with words of encouragement—however feigned—the venom of "mwen paka pab" stifled my ability to uplift myself. However, the next phase of my life—leading to where I stand today—is the story of silencing that inner voice of doubt by forcing myself to internalize another Haitian sentence: Mwen ka pab. Yes, I can. I now dare to keep aiming higher. My most ambitious endeavor is unfolding as I pursue biomedical engineering and neuroimaging research at Yale University. Reflecting on the adversities of caring for a father with a progressive illness, I recognize that I needed those significant home responsibilities to prove I could manage a rigorous academic course load. I needed those unbearably tough practices to help me garner the Haitian national record in the 800m. I needed to sit with “mwen paka pab” long enough to fully believe in “mwen ka pab.” As I stood before my father—his eyes glazed in the terminal stage of MSA—clutching my gold medal, I finally found the strength to say what I once only pretended to believe: “Dad, you can do this.” This time, it wasn’t feigned. This time, I meant it. I believe telepathy is no longer confined to science fiction or the playful banter between my twin sister and me. It is becoming a powerful reality—one with the potential to profoundly impact patients who, like my father, have been stripped of their ability to communicate. My ultimate goal is to pursue an MD/PhD and specialize in neurodegenerative diseases and neurotechnology. I aspire to become a physician-scientist, combining clinical expertise with scientific innovation to advance the understanding and treatment of devastating illnesses such as Multiple System Atrophy. I want to be at the forefront of neuro technological breakthroughs—offering hope and new possibilities to those currently denied functional independence. Given the vast array of resources and opportunities offered at Yale, I am excited to use my undergraduate experience to explore this passion and propel me toward achieving my ambitious endeavors.

My father looked down the concrete steps as if descending them were impossible. He had only been diagnosed with Multiple Systems Atrophy for three years then, but it had already stolen his balance, coordination, and confidence. He looked up, with tearful despair, and croaked, “Mwen paka pab.” I refuted his “I can’t do this” in Haitian Creole with a flimsy “yes you can” in English, failing to stifle sobs of frustration escaping my throat. I couldn’t help but dread the tedious routine of wheeling my father’s infirm body to the backyard without the assistance of my sisters. But I knew once accomplished, the rest of the work was bread and butter: soaping, rinsing, and putting on his diaper. Equally discouraging, my mother would mutter "mwen paka pab" as she eagerly removed her scrubs after her long overtime shifts. Later, as I massaged the life back into her limbs, I offered the same vapid encouragement to her that I gave my father. While I was able to be strong for my family, constantly hearing that gesture of defeat infused my consciousness with dejection. However, the next phase of my life, leading to where I stand today, is the story of drowning out this all-encompassing despondency by forcing myself to internalize another Haitian sentence: Mwen ka pab. Yes, I can. “Mwen paka pab” manifested itself during Mrs. P’s daunting 8th-grade algebra classes, as I justified my sub-average test scores with my innate inability to do math. “Mwen paka pab” presented itself in track practices as I would struggle to complete the tough 400 repeat workouts. "Mwen paka pab" consumed my thoughts as I juggled my chaotic high school schedule, whether it was tutoring others, practicing pieces for music festivals, or hurrying to my evening shifts at McDonald's after track practices.    Although my caregiver days were past, I could still feel the crushing weight of my father’s limp body as I attempted to accelerate in the heated High School New York State Championship race. Positioned last coming down the homestretch, I heard “mwen paka pab'' clamoring as loudly in my head as it did in my legs, threatening to slow me down even more. But at that moment, I realized the choice was mine. Although I initially struggled to override “mwen paka pab,” I found more strength as I beat it down, one stride at a time, with “mwen ka pab.” I drowned out the pain with the thundering chant that I could do it, surging strongly past my competition with an emotional third place finish. Later, as the sweat and tears evaporated from that race, so did my father’s weight and power of “mwen paka pab.” Looking back on these adversities, I now see how essential they were in shaping my current status as a student-athlete at Yale. I needed those grueling practices to build endurance. I needed to struggle in algebra to develop study habits that have enabled me to tackle more advanced courses, which ultimately led me to pursue biomedical engineering. Those heavy responsibilities at home taught me how to manage a demanding academic workload. Most importantly, I had to wrestle with the despair of “mwen paka pab” in order to fully embrace “mwen ka pab.” As I clenched my day-old medal in front of the glazed eyes of my father, now bedridden in the terminal stage of MSA, I finally had the strength to tell him and all others who face the same circumstances as I did, “Yes, you can do this.” But this time it wasn't insincere. This time, I meant it.

Feeding a family of six is quite expensive—especially for one that has a large appetite and no time to cook wholesome foods. Consequently, our diet consisted of the most affordable and "ready to eat" items, which usually meant highly processed and minimally nutritious foods. Our pantry housed ramen noodles and boxed mac and cheese, while the majority of my protein came from processed deli meats. As my mother worked long shifts at the hospital and my schoolwork and extracurriculars took up most of my time, it was extremely difficult to find the time to prepare healthy foods. My early attempts to eat healthier did not last more than a month because we couldn't keep up with the astronomical grocery bills. Fresh fruits, vegetables, and butchered meats were too expensive for our budget.   Once I became a serious track and field athlete, the ill effects of my diet became more accentuated. I had no energy for my after-school practices; I was constantly bloated, lethargic, and sluggish. After so much time enduring the effects of my diet, I became sick of feeling horrible and desperately wanted to take control of my physical health. Despite my rigorous workout routine, I could not produce desirable results on the track as I did not fuel my "engine" with the right foods. Moreover, I participated in unhealthy eating habits. I often skipped breakfast in a frenzy to get to school on time, and occasionally skipped lunch if I did not bring money.   Admittedly, living an athletic lifestyle spared me the troubles that my mother, father, and sisters endured. My mother suffered from high blood pressure and type 2 diabetes, while my youngest sister developed pre-diabetic symptoms. My father's symptoms of Multiple System Atrophy progressed very rapidly. Witnessing the virulent effects that our unhealthy diet had on my family was a solid testament to the importance of living an active lifestyle and what was in store if I did not change. Transforming my diet and eating habits did not occur overnight; in fact, it took over 6 months to finally realize this transformation. My twin sister and I devised creative ways to implement healthy foods into our diet. The monetary barrier was no longer endorsed as an excuse, nor was the lack of time. Free employee meals at the end of my shifts at McDonald’s were also not warranted; simply, enough was enough. We researched extensively into meal prep and wholesome recipes while investing in cleaner sources of protein, such as lean meats.   By employing seemingly small changes such as swapping processed ingredients for wholesome ingredients and deliberately assembling colorful plates for each meal, I noticed considerable differences in my mood, physical potential, and most importantly, my well-being. Such small changes perpetuated major positive transformations. My workouts were complemented by more muscle growth, thanks to my efforts to consume more high-quality protein. I was energized for my after-school track workouts and did not experience extreme energy dips throughout the day. My family also experienced a positive difference due to our healthier diets. My mother was able to regulate her blood sugar and no longer took extensive naps after her shifts. More notably, my youngest sister triumphantly lost 23 pounds, igniting her journey to maintain a healthy weight. Overall, my family has experienced an extremely positive difference, demonstrating the overwhelming significance of practicing healthy eating habits.

Telepathy is a concept that is no longer confined to the mystical world of science fiction or my "twin telepathy" jokes between my twin sister and me. Now, it is a reality that could completely transform the lives of those suffering from progressive neurodegenerative diseases and paralysis. These diseases afflict millions of people worldwide and do not promise a cure. The concept of "digital telepathy" challenges the debilitating effects of neurodegenerative diseases by directly channeling commands to a device without needing a body part. During my career as a neural engineer and my subsequent studies in biomedical engineering, computer science, and participation in neuroimaging research, I strive to ensure the communication abilities of patients whose arms, legs, or hands have failed them. Furthermore, as a neural engineer, I hope to foster a reality in which those who have been robbed of a fulfilling life because of their diagnosis are rejuvenated with the assurance that assistive technologies will help them reclaim what they have lost. While my father’s diagnosis of Multiple Systems Atrophy robbed him of his ability to walk, contorted his hands into fists, and confined him indefinitely to a hospital bed, he maintained his witty personality and could see, think, and feel like an ordinary person. Catastrophically, he could never reach out and hug me or audibly tell me that he loved my sisters or me again. His immense difficulty in simply communicating frustrated me to the point where I became obsessed with the prospect of restoring communication through neuroprosthetics. I assumed the role of "a part-time speech pathologist," desperate to find ways to build a language without words or body movements that was understandable to both of us. This feat was inevitably difficult, given the limited gestures that were possible due to his paralysis. We resorted to his responses being a quick blink for yes or no, which did not adequately satisfy open-ended questions such as "how are you feeling?" Under any circumstance, paralysis should not deprive patients of their ability to connect and sympathize with their families. Human communication is arguably the most powerful skill driving our existence. Communication allows us to share ideas with others, express how we feel, and build lasting connections among family and friends. Losing the ability to communicate threatens our quality of life and strips us of what it truly means to be a human. In a bleak world where we can’t tell others how we feel or even offer significant courtesy such as "thank you" or "I love you," it perpetuates an existential crisis and an overwhelming sense of loneliness, ultimately leading to a disconnection with the world. As a social species, not being understood by others or not being able to express ourselves is a scary reality that millions of people worldwide struggle with. Using brain-computer interfaces, patients who face a similar reality to my father do not have to live chained by their physical constraints; patients no longer have to bear the news that they will not be able to tell their kids, spouses, or siblings that they love them. As I attend Yale University next fall, I hope to see my passions come to fruition, leading to a successful neural engineering position at Synchron, a market leader in implantable brain-computer interfaces. I want to be at the forefront of neuro-technological ingenuity, offering hope and a new world of possibilities to those now denied functional independence.

The red and blue lights flashed outside, signaling an emergency. It was already the third time they had rushed to our house in the past couple of weeks. The man who once sat down at the kitchen table to help me with homework in secondary school and chauffeured occasional family road trips across the country was now on the cold wooden floor unresponsive, soaked in his own urine, eyes rolled back. My dad was experiencing another fainting episode, which had become routine to us but still puzzled all medical personnel. It was only after visiting a Parkinson’s specialist that we learned he didn’t have Parkinson’s but Multiple System Atrophy (MSA)-a degenerative neurological disorder that has no known cure. The news inevitably dispirited us, however, my interest in neurology cultivated into something deeper-- a burning passion. Since the rather brief lesson on the brain and the nervous system in my 8th-grade biology class, I was intrigued by the brain, which served as the foundation for my appreciation for neurology. From there, I eagerly immersed myself into the world of neuroscience, listening to hours of Andrew Huberman’s (an American Neuroscientist) Podcasts among other things. My dad's neurological disorder only poured gas onto this flame. Now, my focus shifted towards potentially finding a cure for terminal neurological illnesses. Sophomore year, I entered the Samsung Solve for Tomorrow contest and won money for my school as a semi-finalist. I am confident I can bring the same level of success into college research. Continuing on this path, I’m currently participating in a greater study involving government agencies (NIST and the FDA) with mask testing. Additionally, to enhance my knowledge of bodily functions and the brain, I’ve attended an Envision’s scholar academy program hosted by New York University, dedicated to extending medical career opportunities to minority students. This just commences my research endeavor, and I plan on exploring many other opportunities in the future. My dad’s abrupt diagnosis not only withdrew his emotional support but financial support as well. A stable stream of income was replaced by a meager pension from only 18 years of teaching. This forced my family of six to give up sections of our home to strangers through Airbnb. Though this decision slightly improved our financial situation, it proved to be a major burden. I often found myself cleaning the space late at night, before school, and even during my lunch periods. Nonetheless, the earnings from Airbnb still failed to cover most expenses. Once I finally turned the legal age of work (14), I immediately pounced on job applications-- anyone I can find. For the longest time, I've only received rejections. But one afternoon, a job opportunity beamed at me promising immediate hires to applicants 14 years and above. Desperate, I called every day and made the 2.86 mile walk every weekend to that McDonald's location. I was elated when I finally received a call back for an interview, only to return for orientation and learn that they weren’t hiring anymore. Shockingly, 8 months later, the same job posting was published. I rushed to seize the opportunity, just to get there and be told they are not looking for applicants my age. Despite the odds, the fired hiring manager leaving with her food as a customer recognized me from over 8 months ago and pleaded with the new management to hire me. I was eventually hired but the first paycheck arrived almost a year and a half after I applied. Aside from covering my own expenses, I always try to save a portion of my earnings towards my future passion.

In our contemporary society, and especially my generation, people often fail to recognize the importance of education- nor realize how fortunate we are to receive such a powerful tool. I’ve heard from too many people that they lack the desire to attend school, and don’t believe there is any real value to education. These comments used to weigh on me and influence my motivation, but I was able to snap out of that mindset and return to reality. Education is extremely imperative. Most of my inspiration stems from my father. He was able to go from the poorest of the poor in Haiti, to achieving the American dream in his adult years. His life experiences emphasize the significance of receiving and valuing education, for that it enabled for many opportunities, and drastically improved his life. My father was able to escape poverty by performing well in school, and demonstrating his intellectual talent. This earned him a $72,000 scholarship to the U.S, where he was able to use his degree to land a job as an educator, and even support his family. This wouldn't have been possible without education and value for it. This can be illustrated by his siblings, who failed to repute their education, which resulted in a lifetime of destitution, and financial struggles. In addition to financial freedom, education provides a voice. Women all over the globe are enduring horrible abuse, such as forced prostitution, due to the lack of education. Upon researching further, and watching Half the Sky: Turning Oppression into Opportunity for Women Worldwide, a four-hour PBS primetime documentary film, I recorded a common issue that all the victims of forced prostitution shared; the lack of education. To reduce these recurring incidents, change agents are urging to educate more women, in order eliminate the economic discrepancy that males have over females. Furthermore, in a more personal perspective, education gives me the voice and the inevitable power to speak out on matters I am knowledgeable about. For example, political debates between my family members on issues rather considered too mature for my age, I was expected to not engage in these conversations. In fact, that's exactly what I used to do prior to learning the power I had through educating my relatives. Moreover, extremely false and biased comments from my relatives irked me, and I realized that I could no longer sit back but use my knowledge to provide new ideas to the table. I can even increase my scope to the real world, where I can use reliable knowledge to influence my judgement instead of relying on the media for information regarding certain topics. Throughout history, many oppressed groups were denied education, which was a strategic method to keep them subjugated. As illustrated in the example written, education provides undeniable power and a flood of opportunities to those who need it the most. Through education, our voices can be heard and many doors of opportunities-whether it be financial or political will be propped open.