My mom gifted me a tutu at two years old, and that was it, my future as a dancer had begun. I’m now a professional dancer, trained and accomplished in many styles, including Pointé, Ballet, Contemporary, Tap, Hip-Hop, African, and more. On stage, the blue lights stand for places and the white lights call for action, ultimately signaling the personal transformation I will have; morphing into my truest form. When I dance I listen for the soft sniffle of an audience member, as they reach for a tissue to wipe their tears of gratitude. This moment breaks the brief moment of silence that travels throughout the theater as a dance culminates. I begin to feel completely free and happy as I run off into the wings smiling at the roaring applause of the audience sounding in the background. What I find most rewarding about dance is how any fear, doubt, or frustration I have about my life is completely defeated when I perform. I’ve danced pieces about Rosa Parks, soldiers in war, slavery, rape, women’s rights, and so many more powerful topics; but I have also danced lighthearted pieces about board games, joy, and rejoice in the church. Choreographing took these interests further, allowing me to tell stories about a wide variety of things. I’ve created solos about police brutality, George Floyd, covid-19, and recently I created a solo about the Movement to protect black women. I’m able to create art with my body, showing my passion and struggle for activism with every battement and pirouette. Every dollop of sweat produced from my body as I dance fights to tell my story. My choreography shows the work that has been done and unveils the work that needs to be continued in the world. I've traveled the country to share my talents with tens of thousands of people. I’ve won awards, received accolades, and even received scholarships; but the most humbling part of my craft is when I take a bow. I lower my head, lean over slightly, and give thanks to those who witnessed my work hoping they have embraced my vision.

“What do you want to accomplish in life?” … is probably the most feared question people are asked. For me, I am never afraid of it. I’ve always had a finite answer: “I want to heal the brain and protect it.” From the time I could remember my goal was to become a surgeon. Every career day at school I wore scrubs, I took the opportunity to volunteer at Cedar Sinai Hospital, and at every doctor’s visit, I'd ask about the medical instruments used. My mom encouraged me by gifting me medical devices and dissection kits. I practiced running whip stitches on bananas with weave needles, I learned anatomy by dissecting frogs, and I taught myself to about the systolic and diastolic blood pressures. My personal characteristics as an intuitive, fast-thinking, and collaborative learner paralleled the scientists I idolized. Later events in my life specified my interest in the medical field. August of 2018, I was admitted to Children’s Hospital, unable to move the right side of my body to the best of my ability. The doctors became concerned I'd suffered a stroke. For days and nights, testing occurred to find a diagnosis. I met nurses, neurologists, therapists, radiologists, and so many other types of people. I fell in love with the collaborative efforts of the hospital- each member working together to help me heal. This event foreshadowed the abrupt passing of my brother in April of 2019. He died in his sleep due to a brain injury we were unaware of at the time. The last time I saw him, the dreaded question, “What do you want to accomplish in life?” was asked. I answered it by saying, “I will heal and protect the brain.” I promised him I would do everything in my power to accomplish all of my dreams. I am truly dedicated to reaching this goal, not just for myself, but for my brother who I sadly could not save at the time. While these two events set the foundation for my interest in medicine specifically, it was my research of medical racism that drove my passion to succeed in the health field, completely solidified my drive to become a pediatric neurosurgeon. Through reading books about eugenics, forced human experimentation, forced lobotomies on hyperactive black children, my passion for protecting the Black body, mind, and soul was ignited. This knowledge, along with the intersectionality of my identities as a bisexual, Black woman, has narrowed my passion for wanting to protect Black women in particular. I plan to study Biomedical sciences, medical history, and African-American studies in college to help eradicate the racism within the medical field that has targeted Black mothers, women, and young girls. My entire life I knew the answer to the question. What would I accomplish? My future became clearer with my goal to open an all-black surgical clinic: Duruisseau Medical Center. Here, I'll give back to my community by offering free health services to people of all ages. I'd also receive funding to perform free surgeries. My clinic will offer after-school services that teach kids dance, visual or performing arts, and sports. I'll work within my community, besides its members, to create hope, inspiring the next generation of Black and Brown pioneers. The love I have for my community is strong. The love I have for myself and my family is unconditional. The love I have for my people is infinite. I will keep my promise to my brother and become a pediatric neurosurgeon both for me and him, along with every person of color who's been mistreated by the medical industry.

“See this is why we brought you, people, here, to show them that not all of you are like that.” I had approached the Dean of Students for advice on what to do regarding the rumors about me at school. I was described as, “hood, intimidating, and unapproachable.” He probably thought it was a compliment somehow, unaware of the blatant racism of his statement. This sentence has impacted me the most during my high school career. As one of the only African-Americans in my entire school, I knew negative assumptions about my character were inevitable. This still didn’t prepare me for the effect his words had on my confidence. I was alienated from my peers. In class, my opinions were seen as jokes, and my answers were never considered to be right unless confirmed by someone who wasn’t Black. I felt the constant need to prove myself to my teachers and peers; as if I were being molded to possess the identity of an outsider. My dean’s words and the opinions of my teachers and peers pierced my soul, but I refused to allow their ignorance to have a lasting effect. Racial discrimination is common at predominately white institutions. I knew my struggles here paralleled the reality many other Black women in predominantly white environments faced. Understanding how normal this reality was, encouraged me to change it. At school, I’m active in Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion work as a continued member in Black Student Union and the Student Leaders for Inclusion, Diversity, and Equity club. I’m also a representative in the National Student Diversity Leadership Conference, and I’ve attended the NNSP: Race, Identity, and Justice Conference. Here I was able to listen to activists and study their practices to create inclusive environments in predominantly white spaces. I then taught the faculty and staff anti-racism practices, helping them understand their implicit biases and understand the cycle of oppression and their possible contributions to it. My leadership at school continued. I proposed a diversity board, an African American Studies course, and a plan to diversify the faculty and staff. The school has hired several new Black and Latinx community leaders to be teachers and program directors on campus, and our curriculum has become more inclusive. Sophomores now complete projects on the Trans-Atlantic slave trade, STEM courses are more diverse, and an Africana course will be available fall 2022. The work I have done in my community and school has inspired my interests in African American history and Biomedical engineering. To heal from trauma caused due to different adversities I want to help others live freely by pursuing a career as a pediatric neurosurgeon. Before my brother passed away, I promised him I would make this dream happen. I intend to keep this promise and become there for every person of color who's been mistreated by the medical industry; living by the quote “Our existence is the resistance” by Sarah Meteyer.