The first time I stepped into a hospital, I wasn’t a patient or a visitor, I was a curious child watching my mother comfort my younger sister through a medical emergency. I remember the fear in her eyes slowly dissolve as a nurse gently explained every procedure, every beeping sound, every line on the monitor. That moment stayed with me. It was the first time I realized that healthcare isn’t just about curing disease, it’s about restoring dignity, trust, and hope when people need it most. My journey toward medicine has been far from straightforward. As an undergraduate at the University of Michigan–Dearborn, I’ve navigated the rigor of science courses while balancing work, volunteer commitments, and leadership roles that have shaped my identity and purpose. Coming from an immigrant family, I often faced the quiet challenge of feeling like I had to prove I belonged, and that all the hard work my parents put in was worth it, whether it be in classrooms, research labs, or professional spaces. I didn’t always have a roadmap, but I had persistence. Every challenge, whether it was mastering chemistry after long school days or navigating cultural expectations, taught me that resilience is as essential in life as it is in medicine. When I joined student organizations such as Inspire Med and the Global Surgery Student Alliance, I discovered how collaboration and advocacy can transform patient outcomes beyond the hospital walls. Leading community health initiatives, fundraising for children’s advocacy centers, and organizing educational workshops gave me firsthand experience with the social determinants of health, how income, housing, and education can dictate who receives care and who does not. These experiences deepened my conviction that healthcare must be both compassionate and equitable. In the lab, I found another side of medicine, the pursuit of discovery. Under faculty mentorship, I explored cellular mechanisms in macrophages and cardiomyocytes, searching for how cellular stress responses can inform treatment for chronic diseases. Research taught me patience, critical thinking, and the humility to accept that progress often begins with failure. It reminded me that the most meaningful impact in medicine comes from those who combine empathy with evidence. Still, the greatest lessons came from listening to patients’ stories during my volunteer work. Whether assisting children with craniofacial conditions or engaging with families in mental health awareness events, I learned that healing extends far beyond medical charts. It’s in the moments when someone feels heard, when fear gives way to understanding, and when care becomes a shared partnership. Those moments continue to motivate me to pursue a career as a physician who not only treats illness but also advocates for systemic change. Looking ahead, I hope to bridge clinical care and global health advocacy. I want to work toward reducing healthcare disparities, particularly for underserved and marginalized communities. My vision is to integrate research, policy, and human connection, to be a physician who uses science to serve humanity, ensuring that every patient, regardless of background, feels seen and valued. The path to medicine has been one of perseverance, reflection, and purpose. From that hospital room years ago to the classrooms and laboratories I now occupy, my motivation has remained constant, to be the kind of healthcare provider who not only heals but empowers. I want to dedicate my life to turning compassion into action, to transform challenges into solutions, and hope into healing for those who need it most.

For centuries, women fought to be heard, silenced in boardrooms, legislation, and science, until they created space to advocate for themselves. But nonverbal children with neurological disorders don’t have that same power. They can’t demand better tools, better care, or even the basic right to communicate. That’s why I’ve made it my mission to advocate for them. My passion was sparked during my first weeks working at an autism clinic, when I helped a young child use a basic speech-generating AAC device for the first time. With just a few taps, they were able to say “I want water”. It was such a simple phrase, but it opened a door to connection, autonomy, and dignity. That moment lit a fire in me. AAC (Augmentative and Alternative Communication) tools, whether symbol-based speech apps or text-to-speech tablets, have become one of the most powerful innovations of the past decade. Not because they’re flashy, but because they restore a basic human right, communication. This helped me realize that technology does not just assist but it empowers. These tools are revolutionizing how children with autism and neurodevelopmental disorders express themselves, and I believe they should not be a luxury, but an accessible essential. As a Health and Human Services major with a strong interest in pediatric neuropsychiatry, I’m actively building the skills to integrate technology into medicine. Through my work at the autism clinic, I’ve learned how to adapt therapeutic strategies to each child’s unique neurological profile, while advocating for more tech-based resources in underfunded settings. I’m currently involved in neuroscience-related research and plan to pursue advanced training in clinical neurotechnology, including wearable neurofeedback devices, brain-computer interfaces (BCIs), and data-driven behavioral tracking systems. My future goal is to become a pediatric neuropsychiatrist who not only diagnoses and treats children, but also helps design and implement tech-based therapeutic tools in clinics and schools. I aim to collaborate with engineers to create more affordable AAC devices, integrate mobile app-based emotional regulation tools, and expand access to remote monitoring systems for early intervention. I will also work to shape healthcare policy that prioritizes equity, bringing these tools to low-income and marginalized communities. My drive to become a medical doctor also stems from the challenges I’ve faced outside the clinic, particularly financial ones. As a college student navigating higher education without a financial safety net, I’ve had to work through academic, clinical, and volunteer responsibilities while being mindful of every dollar. I’ve seen how medical care is often rationed by socioeconomic status, and I’ve lived the stress that comes from needing something essential, education, care, opportunity, and not knowing if you can afford it. These hardships have made me resilient, adaptable, and deeply empathetic. I don’t just want to be a doctor who treats illness, I want to be one who understands what it means to fight for access. I believe my experiences will make me a more compassionate physician, especially for families who feel unseen or unheard. As a dynamic woman in science and healthcare, I want to stand at the forefront of this movement, where innovation meets equity, and ensure that every child, regardless of background or diagnosis, has the tools to be heard, understood, and supported.

For centuries, women fought to be heard, silenced in boardrooms, legislation, and science, until they created space to advocate for themselves. But nonverbal children with neurological disorders don’t have that same power. They can’t demand better tools, better care, or even the basic right to communicate. That’s why I’ve made it my mission to advocate for them. My passion was sparked during my first weeks working at an autism clinic, when I helped a young child use a basic speech-generating AAC device for the first time. With just a few taps, they were able to say “I want water”. It was such a simple phrase, but it opened a door to connection, autonomy, and dignity. That moment lit a fire in me. AAC (Augmentative and Alternative Communication) tools, whether symbol-based speech apps or text-to-speech tablets, have become one of the most powerful innovations of the past decade. Not because they’re flashy, but because they restore a basic human right, communication. This helped me realize that technology does not just assist but it empowers. These tools are revolutionizing how children with autism and neurodevelopmental disorders express themselves, and I believe they should not be a luxury, but an accessible essential. As a Health and Human Services major with a strong interest in pediatric neuropsychiatry, I’m actively building the skills to integrate technology into medicine. Through my work at the autism clinic, I’ve learned how to adapt therapeutic strategies to each child’s unique neurological profile, while advocating for more tech-based resources in underfunded settings. I’m currently involved in neuroscience-related research and plan to pursue advanced training in clinical neurotechnology, including wearable neurofeedback devices, brain-computer interfaces (BCIs), and data-driven behavioral tracking systems. My future goal is to become a pediatric neuropsychiatrist who not only diagnoses and treats children, but also helps design and implement tech-based therapeutic tools in clinics and schools. I aim to collaborate with engineers to create more affordable AAC devices, integrate mobile app-based emotional regulation tools, and expand access to remote monitoring systems for early intervention. I will also work to shape healthcare policy that prioritizes equity, bringing these tools to low-income and marginalized communities. As a dynamic woman in science and healthcare, I want to stand at the forefront of this movement, where innovation meets equity, and ensure that every child, regardless of background or diagnosis, has the tools to be heard, understood, and supported.

For centuries, women fought to be heard, silenced in boardrooms, legislation, and science, until they created space to advocate for themselves. But nonverbal children with neurological disorders don’t have that same power. They can’t demand better tools, better care, or even the basic right to communicate. That’s why I’ve made it my mission to advocate for them. My passion was sparked during my first weeks working at an autism clinic, when I helped a young child use a basic speech-generating AAC device for the first time. With just a few taps, they were able to say “I want water”. It was such a simple phrase, but it opened a door to connection, autonomy, and dignity. That moment lit a fire in me. AAC (Augmentative and Alternative Communication) tools, whether symbol-based speech apps or text-to-speech tablets, have become one of the most powerful innovations of the past decade. Not because they’re flashy, but because they restore a basic human right, communication. This helped me realize that technology does not just assist but it empowers. These tools are revolutionizing how children with autism and neurodevelopmental disorders express themselves, and I believe they should not be a luxury, but an accessible essential. As a Health and Human Services major with a strong interest in pediatric neuropsychiatry, I’m actively building the skills to integrate technology into medicine. Through my work at the autism clinic, I’ve learned how to adapt therapeutic strategies to each child’s unique neurological profile, while advocating for more tech-based resources in underfunded settings. I’m currently involved in neuroscience-related research and plan to pursue advanced training in clinical neurotechnology, including wearable neurofeedback devices, brain-computer interfaces (BCIs), and data-driven behavioral tracking systems. My future goal is to become a pediatric neuropsychiatrist who not only diagnoses and treats children, but also helps design and implement tech-based therapeutic tools in clinics and schools. I aim to collaborate with engineers to create more affordable AAC devices, integrate mobile app-based emotional regulation tools, and expand access to remote monitoring systems for early intervention. I will also work to shape healthcare policy that prioritizes equity, bringing these tools to low-income and marginalized communities. My drive to become a medical doctor also stems from the challenges I’ve faced outside the clinic, particularly financial ones. As a college student navigating higher education without a financial safety net, I’ve had to work through academic, clinical, and volunteer responsibilities while being mindful of every dollar. I’ve seen how medical care is often rationed by socioeconomic status, and I’ve lived the stress that comes from needing something essential, education, care, opportunity, and not knowing if you can afford it. These hardships have made me resilient, adaptable, and deeply empathetic. I don’t just want to be a doctor who treats illness, I want to be one who understands what it means to fight for access. I believe my experiences will make me a more compassionate physician, especially for families who feel unseen or unheard. As a dynamic woman in science and healthcare, I want to stand at the forefront of this movement, where innovation meets equity, and ensure that every child, regardless of background or diagnosis, has the tools to be heard, understood, and supported.

For centuries, women fought to be heard, silenced in boardrooms, legislation, and science, until they created space to advocate for themselves. But nonverbal children with neurological disorders don’t have that same power. They can’t demand better tools, better care, or even the basic right to communicate. That’s why I’ve made it my mission to advocate for them. My passion was sparked during my first weeks working at an autism clinic, when I helped a young child use a basic speech-generating AAC device for the first time. With just a few taps, they were able to say “I want water”. It was such a simple phrase, but it opened a door to connection, autonomy, and dignity. That moment lit a fire in me. AAC (Augmentative and Alternative Communication) tools, whether symbol-based speech apps or text-to-speech tablets, have become one of the most powerful innovations of the past decade. Not because they’re flashy, but because they restore a basic human right, communication. This helped me realize that technology does not just assist but it empowers. These tools are revolutionizing how children with autism and neurodevelopmental disorders express themselves, and I believe they should not be a luxury, but an accessible essential. As a Health and Human Services major with a strong interest in pediatric neuropsychiatry, I’m actively building the skills to integrate technology into medicine. Through my work at the autism clinic, I’ve learned how to adapt therapeutic strategies to each child’s unique neurological profile, while advocating for more tech-based resources in underfunded settings. I’m currently involved in neuroscience-related research and plan to pursue advanced training in clinical neurotechnology, including wearable neurofeedback devices, brain-computer interfaces (BCIs), and data-driven behavioral tracking systems. My future goal is to become a pediatric neuropsychiatrist who not only diagnoses and treats children, but also helps design and implement tech-based therapeutic tools in clinics and schools. I aim to collaborate with engineers to create more affordable AAC devices, integrate mobile app-based emotional regulation tools, and expand access to remote monitoring systems for early intervention. I will also work to shape healthcare policy that prioritizes equity, bringing these tools to low-income and marginalized communities. My drive to become a medical doctor also stems from the challenges I’ve faced outside the clinic, particularly financial ones. As a college student navigating higher education without a financial safety net, I’ve had to work through academic, clinical, and volunteer responsibilities while being mindful of every dollar. I’ve seen how medical care is often rationed by socioeconomic status, and I’ve lived the stress that comes from needing something essential, education, care, opportunity, and not knowing if you can afford it. These hardships have made me resilient, adaptable, and deeply empathetic. As a dynamic woman in science and healthcare, I want to stand at the forefront of this movement, where innovation meets equity, and ensure that every child, regardless of background or diagnosis, has the tools to be heard, understood, and supported.

For centuries, women fought to be heard, silenced in boardrooms, legislation, and science, until they created space to advocate for themselves. But nonverbal children with neurological disorders don’t have that same power. They can’t demand better tools, better care, or even the basic right to communicate. That’s why I’ve made it my mission to advocate for them. My passion was sparked during my first weeks working at an autism clinic, when I helped a young child use a basic speech-generating AAC device for the first time. With just a few taps, they were able to say “I want water”. It was such a simple phrase, but it opened a door to connection, autonomy, and dignity. That moment lit a fire in me. AAC (Augmentative and Alternative Communication) tools, whether symbol-based speech apps or text-to-speech tablets, have become one of the most powerful innovations of the past decade. Not because they’re flashy, but because they restore a basic human right, communication. This helped me realize that technology does not just assist but it empowers. These tools are revolutionizing how children with autism and neurodevelopmental disorders express themselves, and I believe they should not be a luxury, but an accessible essential. As a Health and Human Services major with a strong interest in pediatric neuropsychiatry, I’m actively building the skills to integrate technology into medicine. Through my work at the autism clinic, I’ve learned how to adapt therapeutic strategies to each child’s unique neurological profile, while advocating for more tech-based resources in underfunded settings. I’m currently involved in neuroscience-related research and plan to pursue advanced training in clinical neurotechnology, including wearable neurofeedback devices, brain-computer interfaces (BCIs), and data-driven behavioral tracking systems. My future goal is to become a pediatric neuropsychiatrist who not only diagnoses and treats children, but also helps design and implement tech-based therapeutic tools in clinics and schools. I aim to collaborate with engineers to create more affordable AAC devices, integrate mobile app-based emotional regulation tools, and expand access to remote monitoring systems for early intervention. I will also work to shape healthcare policy that prioritizes equity, bringing these tools to low-income and marginalized communities. My drive to become a medical doctor also stems from the challenges I’ve faced outside the clinic, particularly financial ones. As a college student navigating higher education without a financial safety net, I’ve had to work through academic, clinical, and volunteer responsibilities while being mindful of every dollar. I’ve seen how medical care is often rationed by socioeconomic status, and I’ve lived the stress that comes from needing something essential, education, care, opportunity, and not knowing if you can afford it. These hardships have made me resilient, adaptable, and deeply empathetic. I don’t just want to be a doctor who treats illness, I want to be one who understands what it means to fight for access. I believe my experiences will make me a more compassionate physician, especially for families who feel unseen or unheard. As a dynamic woman in science and healthcare, I want to stand at the forefront of this movement, where innovation meets equity, and ensure that every child, regardless of background or diagnosis, has the tools to be heard, understood, and supported.

For centuries, women fought to be heard. Silenced in boardrooms, legislation, and science, until they created space to advocate for themselves. But nonverbal children with neurological disorders don’t have that same power. They can’t demand better tools, better care, or even the basic right to communicate. That’s why I’ve made it my mission to advocate for them. My passion was sparked during my first weeks working at an autism clinic, when I helped a young child use a basic speech-generating AAC device for the first time. With just a few taps, they were able to say, “I want water” It was such a simple phrase, but it opened a door to connection, autonomy, and dignity. That moment lit a fire in me. AAC (Augmentative and Alternative Communication) tools, whether symbol-based speech apps or text-to-speech tablets, have become one of the most powerful innovations of the past decade, not because they’re flashy, but because they restore a basic human right, communication. This helped me realize that technology does not just assist, but it empowers. These technologies are revolutionizing how children with autism and neurodevelopmental disorders express themselves and I believe that this should not be a luxury but an accessible essential. As a Health and Human Services major with a strong interest in pediatric neuropsychiatry, I’m actively building the skills to integrate technology into medicine. Through my work at an autism clinic, I’ve learned how to adapt therapeutic strategies to each child’s unique neurological profile, while also advocating for more tech-based resources in underfunded care settings. I’m currently involved in neuroscience-related research and plan to pursue further training in clinical neurotechnology, including the use of wearable neurofeedback devices, brain-computer interfaces (BCIs), and data-driven behavioral tracking systems. My future goal is to become a pediatric neuropsychiatrist who not only diagnoses and treats children but helps design and implement tech-based therapeutic tools in clinics and schools. I aim to collaborate with engineers and developers to create more affordable AAC devices, integrate mobile app-based interventions for emotional regulation, and establish remote monitoring systems for early intervention. I will also work to expand policy and funding initiatives that bring this technology to low-income and marginalized communities. As a dynamic woman in science and healthcare, I want to stand at the forefront of this movement, where innovation meets equity, and ensure that every child, regardless of background or diagnosis, has the tools to be heard, understood, and supported.