¨Just continue taking your medicine. We do not need to run any more tests or use a scope,¨ my gastroenterologist declared. ¨Are you sure? I am still feeling really ill and I feel like we should run more tests because this medicine did not work last time,¨ I pleaded. ¨No, you will be fine. Give the medicine six weeks to kick in and you will be good to go. Please schedule a follow up appointment on your way out,¨ my gastroenterologist responded, dismissing me. For years, I have suffered from severe acid reflux. I had significant weight loss, loss of appetite, and sleepless nights. I had to go through four doctors in three months as my symptoms were consistently downplayed. Going through multiple doctors made this situation a lot harder for me as I couldn’t find one who would take me seriously. It did not feel like my doctors were sympathetic towards my experiences, primarily because none of them were people of color. In contrast, my school counselor, a black woman, was the only one that I felt understood my pain. I was out of school for approximately two months and she was the only staff member that checked on me. As a person of color herself, she knew how challenging it can be to find a doctor who understands you. My counselor called my mother to ask how I was managing my symptoms and what she could do to help. She went above and beyond in her role as a school counselor to make sure I was getting the support I needed. I want to be that healthcare professional that gives my patients the support I felt from my school counselor. Her sympathy and kindness went a long way towards my healing journey. I believe that all patients need someone who looks like them when receiving care. It provides a basis for more genuine support and creates a sense of empathy. This experience encouraged me to pursue a Bachelor's degree in Health Management and Health Education. Collectively, these degrees will allow me to expand my knowledge of health access, policy, and education. This education will establish a foundation that will support my dream career of working directly with government officials to create a healthcare bus service system. The bus system would travel to low-income communities across the country to allow equitable access to vaccines, primary care, dental services, testing, and health education at a reduced cost. It would also travel to popular US tourist destinations for healthcare education information sessions open to all to promote open conversation about sensitive health topics. I will ensure that my bus has healthcare professionals from all backgrounds, as I recognize the impact this could’ve had on me while I was ill.

Maintaining my curly hair requires following a consistent routine. Every three days, I wash my hair using a specific method: washing with a sulfate-free shampoo, hydrating with conditioner, detangling with a wide-toothed comb, and finally, applying products to define my curl pattern. This routine took me years to develop since caring for my curly hair was not a priority for me as a child. Growing up, I was one of the only black children living in a predominantly white community, where the majority of my peers had long, straight hair. I hated my natural curl pattern because it appeared different from my classmates. I remember on one particular day in second grade, my mom drove my friends and I to the pool. I sat with anticipation in the back of my mom's car with my friends; windows down and the heavy summer air blowing against our faces. We swam and slid down the rushing water slides for hours. Too embarrassed to wear a swim cap, I let my hair flow freely in the water, which caused my hair to swell into a massive afro. One of my friends looked at me in shock and asked,¨Why is your hair so big?” Before I could respond, my friends erupted in laughter. Feeling embarrassed, I cried to my mother later that night begging her to straighten my hair. This soon became a weekly routine to prevent my friends from seeing my hair in its natural state again. In high school, I found the Minority Scholars Program, a safe space for students to discuss and act on issues pertaining to minority communities. When I first joined, I was moved by the leaders who I viewed as older sisters. The way they flaunted different hair colors, textures, and styles made me feel more confident with my natural hair. I was inspired by the change they made in my school's community and how they embraced what I saw as my own insecurities. The conversations they led helped me reflect on my identity as an African-American attending a predominantly white school. Two years later, representing my organization in a workgroup with new educators in Title IX schools, I served on a panel discussing diversity and inclusion in the classroom. I shared how a lack of visible cultural representation can lead to feelings of inferiority. I pushed for teachers to include books that illustrate various racial backgrounds and ethnic features. Specifically, I advocated for books featuring different hair types, as I recognized the impact that this could’ve had on me as a young child. Now, as President of this program, my goal is to expand the impact that was so transformative to my high school experience. This past September, I coordinated a cultural celebration dance for my school´s Hispanic community. It was incredible to see the whole school, regardless of race, come together to learn how to dance Bachata. It moved me to see how an inclusive event could bring my school together. My hair is left with heat damage from the flat iron: a consequence of years of straightening. These straight strands remind me of the importance of creating an inclusive school environment. As I further my educational career, I want to work directly with Diversity, Equity, & Inclusion offices, host discussions for students to share how the school can better support their needs, and contribute to research projects related to minority academic achievement. My hope is that this work will ensure that all people of color feel pride in their unique, physical features and overall, their cultural background.

¨Just continue taking your medicine. We do not need to run any more tests or use a scope,¨ my gastroenterologist declared. ¨Are you sure? I am still feeling really ill and I feel like we should run more tests because this medicine did not work last time,¨ I pleaded. ¨No, you will be fine. Give the medicine six weeks to kick in and you will be good to go. Please schedule a follow up appointment on your way out,¨ my gastroenterologist responded, dismissing me. For years, I have suffered from severe gastrointestinal issues. I had significant weight loss, loss of appetite, and sleepless nights. I had to go through four doctors in three months as my symptoms were consistently downplayed. Going through multiple doctors made this situation a lot harder for me as I couldn’t find stability. It did not feel like my doctors were sympathetic towards my experiences, primarily because none of them were people of color. This experience encouraged me to earn a Bachelor's degree in Public Health with a minor in Public Policy to allow me to expand my knowledge of health access, policy, and education. This education will allow me to establish a foundation that will support my dream career of working directly with government officials to create a healthcare bus service system. The bus would travel to low-income communities across the country to allow equitable access to vaccines, primary care, dental services, testing, and health education at a reduced cost. It would also travel to popular US tourist destinations for healthcare education information sessions open to all. I will ensure that my bus has healthcare professionals from all backgrounds, as I recognize the impact this could’ve had on me while I was ill. Misinformation was spread at an increased rate during the pandemic; fueled by isolation and limited access to accurate health information assured by doctors and scientists. Specifically, during the Covid-19 pandemic, I saw how minority school aged children were behind on vaccination rates as compared to their white classmates. This made me realize that I want to help the public health sector build a better relationship with the black community. The Coleman for Patriots Scholarship would permit me with the opportunity to immerse myself in a quality education focused on public health equity. While it may be a challenge to receive adequate government funding for my bus system, I will not give up until everyone regardless of socioeconomic status, race, gender, and religion has the opportunity to take care of their health.

¨Just continue taking your medicine. We do not need to run any more tests or use a scope,¨ my gastroenterologist declared. ¨Are you sure? I am still feeling really ill and I feel like we should run more tests because this medicine did not work last time,¨ I pleaded. ¨No, you will be fine. Give the medicine six weeks to kick in and you will be good to go. Please schedule a follow up appointment on your way out,¨ my gastroenterologist responded, dismissing me. For years, I have suffered from severe acid reflux. I had significant weight loss, loss of appetite, and sleepless nights. I had to go through four doctors in three months as my symptoms were consistently downplayed. Going through multiple doctors made this situation a lot harder for me as I couldn’t find one who would take me seriously. It did not feel like my doctors were sympathetic towards my experiences, primarily because none of them were people of color. This experience encouraged me to earn a Bachelor's and Masters degree in Public Health with a minor in Public Policy to allow me to expand my knowledge of health access, policy, and education. This education will allow me to establish a foundation that will support my career of working directly with government officials to create a healthcare bus service system. According to a relative study, “Nearly one in three Hispanic Americans and one in five Black Americans are uninsured, compared to about one in eight white Americans.” This statistic is one of the prime reasons why health disparities still exist in the United States today. I want to create this bus system to travel to low-income communities across the country to allow equitable access to vaccines, primary care, dental services, testing, and health education at a reduced cost. It would also travel to popular US tourist destinations for healthcare education information sessions open to all. I will ensure that my bus has healthcare professionals from all backgrounds, as I recognize the positive impact this would have for all patients to feel represented. Misinformation was spread at an increased rate during the pandemic; fueled by isolation and limited access to accurate health information assured by doctors and scientists. Specifically, during the Covid-19 pandemic, I saw how minority school aged children were behind on vaccination rates as compared to their white classmates. This made me realize that I want to help the public health sector build a better relationship with the minority community. While it may be a challenge to receive adequate government funding for my bus system, I will not give up until everyone regardless of socioeconomic status, race, gender, and religion has the opportunity to take care of their health.

Maintaining my curly hair requires following a consistent routine. Every three days, I wash my hair using a specific method: washing with a sulfate-free shampoo, hydrating with conditioner, detangling with a wide-toothed comb, and finally, applying products to define my curl pattern. This routine took me years to develop since caring for my curly hair was not a priority for me as a child. Growing up, I was one of the only black children living in a predominantly white community, where the majority of my peers had long, straight hair. I hated my natural curl pattern because it appeared different from my classmates. I remember on one particular day in second grade, my mom drove my friends and I to the pool. I sat with anticipation in the back of my mom's car with my friends; windows down and the heavy summer air blowing against our faces. We swam and slid down the rushing water slides for hours. Too embarrassed to wear a swim cap, I let my hair flow freely in the water, which caused my hair to swell into a massive afro. One of my friends looked at me in shock and asked,¨Why is your hair so big?” Before I could respond, my friends erupted in laughter. Feeling embarrassed, I cried to my mother later that night begging her to straighten my hair. This soon became a weekly routine to prevent my friends from seeing my hair in its natural state again. In high school, I found the Minority Scholars Program, a safe space for students to discuss and act on issues pertaining to minority communities. When I first joined, I was moved by the leaders who flaunted different hair colors, textures, and styles. It made me feel more confident with my natural hair. I was inspired by the change they made in my school's community and how they embraced what I saw as my own insecurities. The conversations they led helped me reflect on my identity as an African-American attending a predominantly white school. Two years later, representing my organization in a workgroup with new educators in Title IX schools, I served on a panel discussing diversity and inclusion in the classroom. I shared how a lack of visible cultural representation can lead to feelings of inferiority. I pushed for teachers to include books that illustrate various racial backgrounds and ethnic features. Specifically, I advocated for books featuring different hair types, as I recognized the impact that this could’ve had on me as a young child. Now, as President of this program, my goal is to expand the impact that was so transformative to my high school experience. This fall, I coordinated a celebration dance for my school´s Hispanic community. It was incredible to see the whole school, regardless of race, come together to learn how to dance Bachata. It moved me to see how an inclusive event could bring my school together. My hair is left with heat damage from the flat iron: a consequence of years of straightening. These straight strands remind me of the importance of creating an inclusive school environment. As I further my educational career, I will continue to do work that ensures that underrepresented students’ voices are heard. I want to work directly with Diversity, Equity, & Inclusion offices, host discussions for students to share how the school can better support their needs, and contribute to research projects related to pediatric minority healthcare access. My hope is that this work will ensure that all people of color feel pride in their cultural background and their overall identity as a minority.

Maintaining my curly hair requires following a consistent routine. Every three days, I wash my hair using a specific method: washing with a sulfate-free shampoo, hydrating with conditioner, detangling with a wide-toothed comb, and finally, applying products to define my curl pattern. This routine took me years to develop since caring for my curly hair was not a priority for me as a child. Growing up, I was one of the only black children living in a predominantly white community, where the majority of my peers had long, straight hair. I hated my natural curl pattern because it appeared different from my classmates. I remember on one particular day in second grade, my mom drove my friends and I to the pool. I sat with anticipation in the back of my mom's car with my friends; windows down and the heavy summer air blowing against our faces. We swam and slid down the rushing water slides for hours. Too embarrassed to wear a swim cap, I let my hair flow freely in the water, which caused my hair to swell into a massive afro. One of my friends looked at me in shock and asked,¨Why is your hair so big?” Before I could respond, my friends erupted in laughter. Feeling embarrassed, I cried to my mother later that night begging her to straighten my hair. This soon became a weekly routine to prevent my friends from seeing my hair in its natural state again. In high school, I found the Minority Scholars Program, a safe space for students to discuss and act on issues pertaining to minority communities. When I first joined, I was moved by the leaders who I viewed as older sisters. The way they flaunted different hair colors, textures, and styles made me feel more confident with my natural hair. I was inspired by the change they made in my school's community and how they embraced what I saw as my own insecurities. The conversations they led helped me reflect on my identity as an African-American attending a predominantly white school. Two years later, representing my organization in a workgroup with new educators in Title IX schools, I served on a panel discussing diversity and inclusion in the classroom. I shared how a lack of visible cultural representation can lead to feelings of inferiority. I pushed for teachers to include books that illustrate various racial backgrounds and ethnic features. Specifically, I advocated for books featuring different hair types, as I recognized the impact that this could’ve had on me as a young child. Now, as President of this program, my goal is to expand the impact that was so transformative to my high school experience. This past September, I coordinated a cultural celebration dance for my school´s Hispanic community. It was incredible to see the whole school, regardless of race, come together to learn how to dance Bachata. Staff shared that they felt a sense of community while engaging in these dance lessons, especially with students of color. It moved me to see how an inclusive event could bring my school together. My hair is left with heat damage from the flat iron: a consequence of years of straightening. These straight strands remind me of the importance of creating an inclusive school environment. As I further my educational career, I want to work directly with Diversity, Equity, & Inclusion offices and host discussions for students to share how the school can better support their needs. My hope is that this work will ensure that all people of color feel pride in their their cultural background.

¨Just continue taking your medicine. We do not need to run any more tests or use a scope,¨ my gastroenterologist declared. ¨Are you sure? I am still feeling really ill and I feel like we should run more tests because this medicine did not work last time,¨ I pleaded. ¨No, you will be fine. Give the medicine six weeks to kick in and you will be good to go. Please schedule a follow up appointment on your way out,¨ my gastroenterologist responded, dismissing me. For years, I have suffered from severe gastrointestinal issues. I had significant weight loss, loss of appetite, and sleepless nights. I had to go through four doctors in three months as my symptoms were consistently downplayed. Going through multiple doctors made this situation a lot harder for me as I couldn’t find one who would take my symptoms seriously. It did not feel like my doctors were sympathetic towards my experiences, primarily because none of them were people of color. This experience encouraged me to earn a Bachelor's degree in Public Health with a minor in Public Policy to allow me to expand my knowledge of health access, policy, and education. This education will allow me to establish a foundation that will support my dream career of working directly with government officials to create a healthcare bus service system. The bus would travel to low-income communities across the country to allow equitable access to vaccines, primary care, dental services, testing, and health education at a reduced cost. It would also travel to popular US tourist destinations for healthcare education information sessions open to all. I will ensure that my bus has healthcare professionals from all backgrounds, as I recognize the impact this could’ve had on me while I was ill. Misinformation was spread at an increased rate during the pandemic; fueled by isolation and limited access to accurate health information assured by doctors and scientists. Specifically, during the Covid-19 pandemic, I saw how minority school aged children were behind on vaccination rates as compared to their white classmates. This made me realize that I want to help the public health sector build a better relationship with the minority community. The Barbara P. Alexander Scholarship would permit me with the opportunity to immerse myself in a quality education focused on public health equity. While it may be a challenge to receive adequate government funding for my bus system, I will not give up until everyone regardless of socioeconomic status, race, gender, and religion has the opportunity to take care of their health.

Maintaining my curly hair requires following a consistent routine. Every three days, I wash my hair using a specific method: washing with a sulfate-free shampoo, hydrating with conditioner, detangling with a wide-toothed comb, and finally, applying products to define my curl pattern. This routine took me years to develop since caring for my curly hair was not a priority for me as a child. Growing up, I was one of the only black children living in a predominantly white community, where the majority of my peers had long, straight hair. I hated my natural curls because it appeared different from my classmates. I remember on one particular day in second grade, my mom drove my friends and I to the pool. I sat with anticipation in the back of my mom's car with my friends; windows down and the heavy summer air blowing against our faces. We swam and slid down the water slides for hours. Too embarrassed to wear a swim cap, I let my hair flow freely in the water, which caused my hair to swell into a massive afro. One of my friends looked at me in shock and asked,¨Why is your hair so big?” Before I could respond, my friends erupted in laughter. Feeling embarrassed, I cried to my mother later that night begging her to straighten my hair. This soon became a weekly routine to prevent my friends from seeing my natural hair again. In high school, I found the Minority Scholars Program, a safe space for students to discuss and act on issues pertaining to minority communities. When I first joined, I was moved by the leaders who I viewed as older sisters. The way they flaunted different hair colors, textures, and styles made me feel more confident with my natural hair. I was inspired by the change they made in my school's community and how they embraced what I saw as my own insecurities. The conversations they led helped me reflect on my identity as an African-American attending a predominantly white school. Two years later, representing my organization in a workgroup with new educators in Title IX schools, I served on a panel discussing diversity and inclusion in the classroom. I shared how a lack of cultural representation can lead to feelings of inferiority. I pushed for teachers to include books that illustrate various racial backgrounds and ethnic features. Specifically, I advocated for books featuring different hair types, as I recognized the impact that this could’ve had on me as a young child. Now, as President of this program, my goal is to expand the impact that was so transformative to my high school experience. This past September, I coordinated a cultural celebration dance for my school´s Hispanic community. It was incredible to see the whole school, regardless of race, come together to learn how to dance Bachata. It moved me to see how an inclusive event could bring my school together. My hair is left with heat damage from the flat iron: a consequence of years of straightening. These straight strands remind me of the importance of creating an inclusive school environment. As I further my educational career, I will continue to do work that ensures that underrepresented students’ voices are heard. I want to work directly with Diversity, Equity, & Inclusion offices, host discussions for students to share how the school can better support their needs, and contribute to research projects related to minority academic achievement. My hope is that this work will ensure that all people of color feel pride in their unique, physical features and overall, their cultural background.

“Just continue taking your medicine. We do not need to run any more tests or use a scope,¨ my gastroenterologist declared. ¨Are you sure? I am still feeling really ill and I feel like we should run more tests because this medicine did not work last time,¨ I pleaded. ¨No, you will be fine. Give the medicine six weeks to kick in and you will be good to go. Please schedule a follow up appointment on your way out,¨ my gastroenterologist responded, dismissing me. For years, I have suffered from severe gastrointestinal issues. I had significant weight loss, loss of appetite, and sleepless nights. I had to go through four doctors in three months as my symptoms were consistently downplayed. Going through multiple doctors made this situation a lot harder for me as I couldn’t find stability. It did not feel like my doctors were sympathetic towards my experiences, primarily because none of them were people of color. This experience encouraged me to earn a Bachelor's degree in Public Health with a minor in Public Policy to allow me to expand my knowledge of health access, policy, and education. This education will allow me to establish a foundation that will support my dream career of working directly with government officials to create a healthcare bus service system. The bus would travel to low-income communities across the country to allow equitable access to vaccines, primary care, dental services, testing, and health education at a reduced cost. It would also travel to popular US tourist destinations for healthcare education information sessions open to all. I will ensure that my bus has healthcare professionals from all backgrounds, as I recognize the impact this could’ve had on me while I was ill. Misinformation was spread at an increased rate during the pandemic; fueled by isolation and limited access to accurate health information assured by doctors and scientists. Specifically, during the Covid-19 pandemic, I saw how minority school aged children were behind on vaccination rates as compared to their white classmates. This made me realize that I want to help the public health sector build a better relationship with the black community. The MedLuxe Representation Matters Scholarship would permit me with the opportunity to immerse myself in a quality education focused on public health equity. While it may be a challenge to receive adequate government funding for my bus system, I will not give up until everyone regardless of socioeconomic status, race, gender, and religion has the opportunity to take care of their health.

Maintaining my curly hair requires following a consistent routine. Every three days, I wash my hair using a specific method: washing with a sulfate-free shampoo, hydrating with conditioner, detangling with a wide-toothed comb, and finally, applying products to define my curl pattern. This routine took me years to develop since caring for my curly hair was not a priority for me as a child. Growing up, I was one of the only black children living in a predominantly white community, where the majority of my peers had long, straight hair. I hated my natural curl pattern because it appeared different from my classmates. I remember on one particular day in second grade, my mom drove my friends and I to the pool. I sat with anticipation in the back of my mom's car with my friends; windows down and the heavy summer air blowing against our faces. We swam and slid down the rushing water slides for hours. Too embarrassed to wear a swim cap, I let my hair flow freely in the water, which caused my hair to swell into a massive afro. One of my friends looked at me in shock and asked,¨Why is your hair so big?” Before I could respond, my friends erupted in laughter. Feeling embarrassed, I cried to my mother later that night begging her to straighten my hair. This soon became a weekly routine to prevent my friends from seeing my hair in its natural state again. In high school, I found the Minority Scholars Program, a safe space for students to discuss and act on issues pertaining to minority communities. When I first joined, I was moved by the leaders who I viewed as older sisters. The way they flaunted different hair colors, textures, and styles made me feel more confident with my natural hair. I was inspired by the change they made in my school's community and how they embraced what I saw as my own insecurities. The conversations they led helped me reflect on my identity as an African-American attending a predominantly white school. Two years later, representing my organization in a workgroup with new educators in Title IX schools, I served on a panel discussing diversity and inclusion in the classroom. I shared how a lack of visible cultural representation can lead to feelings of inferiority. I pushed for teachers to include books that illustrate various racial backgrounds and ethnic features. Specifically, I advocated for books featuring different hair types, as I recognized the impact that this could’ve had on me as a young child. Now, as President of this program, my goal is to expand the impact that was so transformative to my high school experience. This past September, I coordinated a cultural celebration dance for my school´s Hispanic community. It was incredible to see the whole school, regardless of race, come together to learn how to dance Bachata. It moved me to see how such an inclusive event could bring my school together. My hair is left with heat damage from the flat iron: a consequence of years of straightening. These straight strands remind me of the importance of creating an inclusive school environment. As I further my educational career, I will continue to do work that ensures that underrepresented students’ voices are heard. I want to work directly with Diversity, Equity, & Inclusion offices, host discussions for students to share how the school can better support their needs, and contribute to research projects related to minority academic achievement. I hope this work will ensure that everyone feels pride in their unique features and cultural background.

¨Just continue taking your medicine. We do not need to run any more tests or use a scope,¨ my gastroenterologist declared. ¨Are you sure? I am still feeling really ill and I feel like we should run more tests because this medicine did not work last time,¨ I pleaded. ¨No, you will be fine. Give the medicine six weeks to kick in and you will be good to go. Please schedule a follow up appointment on your way out,¨ my gastroenterologist responded, dismissing me. For years, I have suffered from severe gastrointestinal issues. I had significant weight loss, loss of appetite, and sleepless nights. I had to go through four doctors in three months as my symptoms were consistently downplayed. Going through multiple doctors made this situation a lot harder for me as I couldn’t find stability. It did not feel like my doctors were sympathetic towards my experiences, primarily because none of them were people of color. This experience encouraged me to earn a Bachelor's degree in Public Health with a minor in Computer Science to allow me to expand my knowledge of health access, policy, and education. This education will allow me to establish a foundation that will support my dream career of working directly with government officials to create a healthcare bus service system. The bus would travel to low-income communities across the country to allow equitable access to vaccines, primary care, dental services, testing, and health education at a reduced cost. It would also travel to popular US tourist destinations for healthcare education information sessions open to all. I will ensure that my bus has healthcare professionals from all backgrounds, as I recognize the impact this could’ve had on me while I was ill. Misinformation was spread at an increased rate during the pandemic; fueled by isolation and limited access to accurate health information assured by doctors and scientists. Specifically, during the Covid-19 pandemic, I saw how minority school aged children were behind on vaccination rates as compared to their white classmates. This made me realize that I want to help the public health sector build a better relationship with the black community. The Cliff T. Wofford STEM Scholarship would permit me with the opportunity to immerse myself in a quality education focused on public health equity. While it may be a challenge to receive adequate government funding for my bus system, I will not give up until everyone regardless of socioeconomic status, race, gender, and religion has the opportunity to take care of their health.

Maintaining my curly hair requires following a consistent routine. Every three days, I wash my hair using a specific method: washing with a sulfate-free shampoo, hydrating with conditioner, detangling with a wide-toothed comb, and finally, applying products to define my curl pattern. This routine took me years to develop since caring for my curly hair was not a priority for me as a child. Growing up, I was one of the only black children living in a predominantly white community, where the majority of my peers had long, straight hair. I hated my natural curl pattern because it appeared different from my classmates. I remember on one particular day in second grade, my mom drove my friends and I to the pool. I sat with anticipation in the back of my mom's car with my friends; windows down and the heavy summer air blowing against our faces. We swam and slid down the rushing water slides for hours. Too embarrassed to wear a swim cap, I let my hair flow freely in the water, which caused my hair to swell into a massive afro. One of my friends looked at me in shock and asked,¨Why is your hair so big?” Before I could respond, my friends erupted in laughter. Feeling embarrassed, I cried to my mother later that night begging her to straighten my hair. This soon became a weekly routine to prevent my friends from seeing my hair in its natural state again. In high school, I found the Minority Scholars Program, a safe space for students to discuss and act on issues pertaining to minority communities. When I first joined, I was moved by the leaders who I viewed as older sisters. The way they flaunted different hair colors, textures, and styles made me feel more confident with my natural hair. I was inspired by the change they made in my school's community and how they embraced what I saw as my own insecurities. The conversations they led helped me reflect on my identity as an African-American attending a predominantly white school. Two years later, representing my organization in a workgroup with new educators in Title IX schools, I served on a panel discussing diversity and inclusion in the classroom. I shared how a lack of visible cultural representation can lead to feelings of inferiority. I pushed for teachers to include books that illustrate various racial backgrounds and ethnic features. Specifically, I advocated for books featuring different hair types, as I recognized the impact that this could’ve had on me as a young child. Now, as President of this program, my goal is to expand the impact that was so transformative to my high school experience. This past September, I coordinated a cultural celebration dance for my school´s Hispanic community. It was incredible to see the whole school, regardless of race, come together to learn how to dance Bachata. Staff shared that they felt a sense of community while engaging in these dance lessons, especially with students of color. It moved me to see how an inclusive event could bring my school together. My hair is left with heat damage from the flat iron: a consequence of years of straightening. These straight strands remind me of the importance of creating an inclusive school environment. As I further my educational career, I will continue to do work that ensures that underrepresented students’ voices are heard. I want to work directly with Diversity, Equity, & Inclusion offices, host discussions for students to share how the school can better support their needs, and contribute to research projects related to minority academic achievement. My hope is that this work will ensure that all people of color feel pride in their unique, physical features and overall, their cultural background.

¨Just continue taking your medicine. We do not need to run any more tests or use a scope,¨ my gastroenterologist declared. ¨Are you sure? I am still feeling really ill and I feel like we should run more tests because this medicine did not work last time,¨ I pleaded. ¨No, you will be fine. Give the medicine six weeks to kick in and you will be good to go. Please schedule a follow up appointment on your way out,¨ my gastroenterologist responded, dismissing me. For years, I have suffered from severe gastrointestinal issues. I had significant weight loss, loss of appetite, and sleepless nights. I had to go through four doctors in three months as my symptoms were consistently downplayed. Going through multiple doctors made this situation a lot harder for me as I couldn’t find stability. It did not feel like my doctors were sympathetic towards my experiences, primarily because none of them were people of color. This experience encouraged me to earn a Bachelor's degree in Public Health with a minor in Public Policy to allow me to expand my knowledge of health access, policy, and education. This education will allow me to establish a foundation that will support my dream career of working directly with government officials to create a healthcare bus service system. The bus would travel to low-income communities across the country to allow equitable access to vaccines, primary care, dental services, testing, and health education at a reduced cost. It would also travel to popular US tourist destinations for healthcare education information sessions open to all. I will ensure that my bus has healthcare professionals from all backgrounds, as I recognize the impact this could’ve had on me while I was ill. Misinformation was spread at an increased rate during the pandemic; fueled by isolation and limited access to accurate health information assured by doctors and scientists. Specifically, during the Covid-19 pandemic, I saw how minority school aged children were behind on vaccination rates as compared to their white classmates. This made me realize that I want to help the public health sector build a better relationship with the black community. The Jaquan Webb Scholarship would permit me with the opportunity to immerse myself in a quality education focused on public health equity. While it may be a challenge to receive adequate government funding for my bus system, I will not give up until everyone regardless of socioeconomic status, race, gender, and religion has the opportunity to take care of their health.

¨Just continue taking your medicine. We do not need to run any more tests or use a scope,¨ my gastroenterologist declared. ¨Are you sure? I am still feeling really ill and I feel like we should run more tests because this medicine did not work last time,¨ I pleaded. ¨No, you will be fine. Give the medicine six weeks to kick in and you will be good to go. Please schedule a follow up appointment on your way out,¨ my gastroenterologist responded, dismissing me. For years, I have suffered from severe gastrointestinal issues. I had significant weight loss, loss of appetite, and sleepless nights. I had to go through four doctors in three months as my symptoms were consistently downplayed. Going through multiple doctors made this situation a lot harder for me as I couldn’t find stability. It did not feel like my doctors were sympathetic towards my experiences, primarily because none of them were people of color. This experience encouraged me to earn a Bachelor's degree in Public Health with a minor in Public Policy to allow me to expand my knowledge of health access, policy, and education. This education will allow me to establish a foundation that will support my dream career of working directly with government officials to create a healthcare bus service system. The bus would travel to low-income communities across the country to allow equitable access to vaccines, primary care, dental services, testing, and health education at a reduced cost. It would also travel to popular US tourist destinations for healthcare education information sessions open to all. I will ensure that my bus has healthcare professionals from all backgrounds, as I recognize the impact this could’ve had on me while I was ill. Misinformation was spread at an increased rate during the pandemic; fueled by isolation and limited access to accurate health information assured by doctors and scientists. Specifically, during the Covid-19 pandemic, I saw how minority school aged children were behind on vaccination rates as compared to their white classmates. This made me realize that I want to help the public health sector build a better relationship with the black community. The She Rose in STEAM Scholarship would permit me with the opportunity to immerse myself in a quality education focused on public health equity. While it may be a challenge to receive adequate government funding for my bus system, I will not give up until everyone regardless of socioeconomic status, race, gender, and religion has the opportunity to take care of their health.

Maintaining my curly hair requires following a consistent routine. Every three days, I wash my hair using a specific method: washing with a sulfate-free shampoo, hydrating with conditioner, detangling with a wide-toothed comb, and finally, applying products to define my curl pattern. This routine took me years to develop since caring for my curly hair was not a priority for me as a child. Growing up, I was one of the only black children living in a predominantly white community, where the majority of my peers had long, straight hair. I hated my natural curl pattern because it appeared different from my classmates. I remember on one particular day in second grade, my mom drove my friends and I to the pool. I sat with anticipation in the back of my mom's car with my friends; windows down and the heavy summer air blowing against our faces. We swam and slid down the rushing water slides for hours. Too embarrassed to wear a swim cap, I let my hair flow freely in the water, which caused my hair to swell into a massive afro. One of my friends looked at me in shock and asked,¨Why is your hair so big?” Before I could respond, my friends erupted in laughter. Feeling embarrassed, I cried to my mother later that night begging her to straighten my hair. This soon became a weekly routine to prevent my friends from seeing my hair in its natural state again. In high school, I found the Minority Scholars Program, a safe space for students to discuss and act on issues pertaining to minority communities. When I first joined, I was moved by the leaders who I viewed as older sisters. The way they flaunted different hair colors, textures, and styles made me feel more confident with my natural hair. I was inspired by the change they made in my school's community and how they embraced what I saw as my own insecurities. The conversations they led helped me reflect on my identity as an African-American attending a predominantly white school. Two years later, representing my organization in a workgroup with new educators in Title IX schools, I served on a panel discussing diversity and inclusion in the classroom. I shared how a lack of visible cultural representation can lead to feelings of inferiority. I pushed for teachers to include books that illustrate various racial backgrounds and ethnic features. Specifically, I advocated for books featuring different hair types, as I recognized the impact that this could’ve had on me as a young child. Now, as President of this program, my goal is to expand the impact that was so transformative to my high school experience. This past September, I coordinated a cultural celebration dance for my school´s Hispanic community. It was incredible to see the whole school, regardless of race, come together to learn how to dance Bachata. It moved me to see how an inclusive event could bring my school together. My hair is left with heat damage from the flat iron: a consequence of years of straightening. These straight strands remind me of the importance of creating an inclusive school environment. As I further my educational career, I want to work directly with Diversity, Equity, & Inclusion offices and host discussions for students to share how the school can better support their needs. This scholarship will allow me to ensure that all people of color feel pride in their unique, physical features and overall, their cultural background.

¨Just continue taking your medicine. We do not need to run any more tests or use a scope,¨ my gastroenterologist declared. ¨Are you sure? I am still feeling really ill and I feel like we should run more tests because this medicine did not work last time,¨ I pleaded. ¨No, you will be fine. Give the medicine six weeks to kick in and you will be good to go. Please schedule a follow up appointment on your way out,¨ my gastroenterologist responded, dismissing me. For years, I have suffered from severe gastrointestinal issues. I had significant weight loss, loss of appetite, and sleepless nights. I had to go through four doctors in three months as my symptoms were consistently downplayed. Going through multiple doctors made this situation a lot harder for me as I couldn’t find stability. It did not feel like my doctors were sympathetic towards my experiences, primarily because none of them were people of color. This experience encouraged me to earn a Bachelor's degree in Public Health with a minor in Computer Science to allow me to expand my knowledge of health access, policy, and education. This education will allow me to establish a foundation that will support my dream career of working directly with government officials to create a healthcare bus service system. The bus would travel to low-income communities across the country to allow equitable access to vaccines, primary care, dental services, testing, and health education at a reduced cost. It would also travel to popular US tourist destinations for healthcare education information sessions open to all. I will ensure that my bus has healthcare professionals from all backgrounds, as I recognize the impact this could’ve had on me while I was ill. Misinformation was spread at an increased rate during the pandemic; fueled by isolation and limited access to accurate health information assured by doctors and scientists. Specifically, during the Covid-19 pandemic, I saw how minority school aged children were behind on vaccination rates as compared to their white classmates. This made me realize that I want to help the public health sector build a better relationship with the black community with my website. My website will allow all to have access to book appointments on my bus and accurate healthcare information. This scholarship would permit me with the opportunity to immerse myself in a quality education focused on public health equity. While it may be a challenge to receive adequate government funding for my bus system, I will not give up until everyone regardless of socioeconomic status, race, gender, and religion has the opportunity to take care of their health.

¨Just continue taking your medicine. We do not need to run any more tests or use a scope,¨ my gastroenterologist declared. ¨Are you sure? I am still feeling really ill and I feel like we should run more tests because this medicine did not work last time,¨ I pleaded. ¨No, you will be fine. Give the medicine six weeks to kick in and you will be good to go. Please schedule a follow up appointment on your way out,¨ my gastroenterologist responded, dismissing me. For years, I have suffered from severe gastrointestinal issues. I had significant weight loss, loss of appetite, and sleepless nights. I had to go through four doctors in three months as my symptoms were consistently downplayed. Going through multiple doctors made this situation a lot harder for me as I couldn’t find stability. It did not feel like my doctors were sympathetic towards my experiences, primarily because none of them were people of color. This experience encouraged me to earn a Bachelor's degree in Public Health with a minor in Public Policy to allow me to expand my knowledge of health access, policy, and education. This education will allow me to establish a foundation that will support my dream career of working directly with government officials to create a healthcare bus service system. The bus would travel to low-income communities across the country to allow equitable access to vaccines, primary care, dental services, testing, and health education at a reduced cost. It would also travel to popular US tourist destinations for healthcare education information sessions open to all. I will ensure that my bus has healthcare professionals from all backgrounds, as I recognize the impact this could’ve had on me while I was ill. Misinformation was spread at an increased rate during the pandemic; fueled by isolation and limited access to accurate health information assured by doctors and scientists. Specifically, during the Covid-19 pandemic, I saw how minority school aged children were behind on vaccination rates as compared to their white classmates. This made me realize that I want to help the public health sector build a better relationship with the black community. This scholarship would permit me with the opportunity to immerse myself in a quality education focused on public health equity. While it may be a challenge to receive adequate government funding for my bus system, I will not give up until everyone regardless of socioeconomic status, race, gender, and religion has the opportunity to take care of their health.

Maintaining my curly hair requires following a consistent routine. Every three days, I wash my hair using a specific method: washing with a sulfate-free shampoo, hydrating with conditioner, detangling with a wide-toothed comb, and finally, applying products to define my curl pattern. This routine took me years to develop since caring for my curly hair was not a priority for me as a child. Growing up, I was one of the only black children living in a predominantly white community, where the majority of my peers had long, straight hair. I hated my natural curl pattern because it appeared different from my classmates. I remember on one particular day in second grade, my mom drove my friends and I to the pool. I sat with anticipation in the back of my mom's car with my friends; windows down and the heavy summer air blowing against our faces. We swam and slid down the rushing water slides for hours. Too embarrassed to wear a swim cap, I let my hair flow freely in the water, which caused my hair to swell into a massive afro. One of my friends looked at me in shock and asked,¨Why is your hair so big?” Before I could respond, my friends erupted in laughter. Feeling embarrassed, I cried to my mother later that night begging her to start straightening my hair weekly. In high school, I found the Minority Scholars Program, a safe space for students to discuss and act on issues pertaining to minority communities. When I first joined, I was moved by the leaders who flaunted different hair colors, textures, and styles. It made me feel more confident with my natural hair. I was inspired by the change they made in my school's community and how they embraced what I saw as my own insecurities. The conversations they led helped me reflect on my identity as an African-American attending a predominantly white school. Two years later, representing my organization in a workgroup with new educators in Title IX schools, I served on a panel discussing diversity and inclusion in the classroom. I shared how a lack of cultural representation can lead to feelings of inferiority. I pushed for teachers to include books that illustrate various racial backgrounds and ethnic features. Specifically, I advocated for books featuring different hair types, as I recognized the impact that this could’ve had on me as a young child. Now, as President of this program, my goal is to expand the impact that was so transformative to my high school experience. This fall, I coordinated a cultural celebration dance for my school´s Hispanic community. It was incredible to see the whole school, regardless of race, come together to learn how to dance Bachata. Staff shared that they felt a sense of community while engaging in these dance lessons, especially with students of color. It moved me to see how an inclusive event could bring my school together. My hair is left with heat damage from the flat iron: a consequence of years of straightening. These straight strands remind me of the importance of creating an inclusive school environment. As I further my educational career, I will continue to do work that ensures that underrepresented students’ voices are heard. I want to work directly with Diversity, Equity, & Inclusion offices, host discussions for students to share how the school can better support their needs, and contribute to research projects related to minority academic achievement. My hope is that this work will ensure that all people of color feel pride in their unique, physical features and overall, their cultural background.

¨Just continue taking your medicine. We do not need to run any more tests or use a scope,¨ my gastroenterologist declared. ¨Are you sure? I am still feeling really ill and I feel like we should run more tests because this medicine did not work last time,¨ I pleaded. ¨No, you will be fine. Give the medicine six weeks to kick in and you will be good to go. Please schedule a follow up appointment on your way out,¨ my gastroenterologist responded, dismissing me. For years, I have suffered from severe gastrointestinal issues. I had significant weight loss, loss of appetite, and sleepless nights. I had to go through four doctors in three months as my symptoms were consistently downplayed. Going through multiple doctors made this situation a lot harder for me as I couldn’t find stability. It did not feel like my doctors were sympathetic towards my experiences, primarily because none of them were people of color. This experience encouraged me to earn a Bachelor's degree in Public Health with a minor in Public Policy to allow me to expand my knowledge of health access, policy, and education. This education will allow me to establish a foundation that will support my dream career of working directly with government officials to create a healthcare bus service system. The bus would travel to low-income communities across the country to allow equitable access to vaccines, primary care, dental services, testing, and health education at a reduced cost. It would also travel to popular US tourist destinations for healthcare education information sessions open to all. I will ensure that my bus has healthcare professionals from all backgrounds, as I recognize the impact this could’ve had on me while I was ill. Misinformation was spread at an increased rate during the pandemic; fueled by isolation and limited access to accurate health information assured by doctors and scientists. Specifically, during the Covid-19 pandemic, I saw how minority school aged children were behind on vaccination rates as compared to their white classmates. This made me realize that I want to help the public health sector build a better relationship with the black community. The Do Good Scholarship would permit me with the opportunity to immerse myself in a quality education focused on public health equity. While it may be a challenge to receive adequate government funding for my bus system, I will not give up until everyone regardless of socioeconomic status, race, gender, and religion has the opportunity to take care of their health.

Maintaining my curly hair requires following a consistent routine. Every three days, I wash my hair using a specific method: washing with a sulfate-free shampoo, hydrating with conditioner, detangling with a wide-toothed comb, and finally applying products to define my curl pattern. This routine took me years to develop, as caring for my curly hair as a child was not a priority. Growing up, I was one of the only black children living in a predominantly white community where the majority of my peers had long, straight hair. I hated my natural curl pattern because it appeared different from my classmates. I remember on one particular day in second grade, my mom drove my friends and I to the pool. I sat with anticipation in the back of my mom's car with my friends; windows down and the heavy summer air blowing against our faces. We swam and slid down the rushing water slides for hours. Too embarrassed to wear a swim cap, I let my hair flow freely in the water which caused my hair to swell into a massive afro. One of my friends looked at me in shock and asked, ¨ Why is your hair so big?” Before I could respond, my friends erupted in laughter. Feeling embarrassed, I cried to my mother later that night, begging her to straighten my hair. Straightening soon became a weekly routine to prevent my friends from seeing my hair in its natural state again. In high school, I found the Minority Scholars Program, a safe space for students to discuss and act on issues pertaining to minority communities. When I joined, I was moved by the leaders who flaunted different hair colors, textures, and styles. It made me feel more confident with my natural hair. I was inspired by the change they made in my school's community and how they embraced what I saw as my own insecurities. The conversations they led helped me reflect on my identity as an African-American. Two years later, representing my organization in a workgroup with new educators in Title IX schools, I served on a panel discussing diversity and inclusion in the classroom. I shared how a lack of visible cultural representation can lead to feelings of inferiority. I pushed for teachers to include books that illustrate various racial backgrounds and ethnic features. Specifically, I advocated for books featuring different hair types, as I recognized the impact that this could’ve had on me as a child. Now, as President of this program, my goal is to expand the impact that was so transformative to my high school experience. This fall, I coordinated a cultural dance for my school´s Hispanic community. It was incredible to see the whole school, regardless of race, come together to learn Bachata. Staff shared that they felt a sense of community while engaging in these dance lessons, especially with their minority students. It moved me to see how such an event could make my school more inclusive. My hair is left with heat damage from the flat iron --a consequence of years of straightening. These straight strands remind me of the importance of creating an inclusive school environment. As I further my educational career, I want to work directly with Diversity, Equity, & Inclusion offices, host discussions for students to share how the school can better support their needs, and contribute to research projects related to minority academic achievement. My hope is that this work will ensure that all people of color feel pride in their natural hair and in their background as a minority.

¨Just continue taking your medicine. We do not need to run any more tests or use a scope,¨ my gastroenterologist declared. ¨Are you sure? I am still feeling really ill and I feel like we should run more tests because this medicine did not work last time,¨ I pleaded. ¨No, you will be fine. Give the medicine six weeks to kick in and you will be good to go. Please schedule a follow up appointment on your way out,¨ my gastroenterologist responded, dismissing me. For years, I have suffered from severe gastrointestinal issues. I had significant weight loss, loss of appetite, and sleepless nights. I had to go through four doctors in three months as my symptoms were consistently downplayed. Going through multiple doctors made this situation a lot harder for me as I couldn’t find stability. It did not feel like my doctors were sympathetic towards my experiences, primarily because none of them were people of color. This experience encouraged me to earn a Bachelor's degree in Public Health with a minor in Public Policy to allow me to expand my knowledge of health access, policy, and education. This education will allow me to establish a foundation that will support my dream career of working directly with government officials to create a healthcare bus service system. The bus would travel to low-income communities across the country to allow equitable access to vaccines, primary care, dental services, testing, and health education at a reduced cost. It would also travel to popular US tourist destinations for healthcare education information sessions open to all. I will ensure that my bus has healthcare professionals from all backgrounds, as I recognize the impact this could’ve had on me while I was ill. Misinformation was spread at an increased rate during the pandemic; fueled by isolation and limited access to accurate health information assured by doctors and scientists. Specifically, during the Covid-19 pandemic, I saw how minority school aged children were behind on vaccination rates as compared to their white classmates. This made me realize that I want to help the public health sector build a better relationship with the black community. This scholarship would permit me with the opportunity to immerse myself in a quality education focused on public health equity. While it may be a challenge to receive adequate government funding for my bus system, I will not give up until everyone knows me as the woman who continued to fight for healthcare for all. My overall goal is for all people regardless of socioeconomic status, race, gender, and religion has the opportunity to take care of their health by someone who cares.