I have taken the sorting hat quiz online many times as I have grown up and it was always a goal for my friends and I to be sorted into the greatest Hogwarts house that ever existed…Gryffindor. I often found myself relating to Harry Potter himself during these quizzes because I always wound up being sorted into either Slytherin or Gryffindor. As a result, when I am asked what house I am, I now get to choose which I identify with more and the answer is ever-changing. This at least was the case up until high school, when I was sorted into Hufflepuff after picking a puck out of a bag for class competitions and rewards in my junior year calculus class (my teacher was a huge Harry Potter fan, and we got along great as you can imagine). Totally ruined my track record. My Accio Gryffindor puck spell had unfortunately failed. Despite that awful accident in my junior year, I can confidently say [true to my official sorting house trend] I am unequivocally a Gryffindor - and I even have the merchandise to prove it. Gryffindor House is known for its courage and innovation, always having the strength to push the envelope, and being at the center of change when it comes time to shift paradigms. My entire college career has been focused on my desire to make a difference for my community through my place as a biomedical engineer working closely with the medical field, which is an area full of advancement and conversations that minority communities are often left out of. Having completed multiple research projects and finding that minorities are often left out in clinical research - a prime example of which is that completed for AI-based algorithms used in melanoma diagnosing devices, which lacks data relevant for those with darker skin and results in higher rates of death for minority and primarily black female patients, I have been passionate about challenging my peers to think about their unconscious biases and how they might affect their decisions and design plans. My goal in doing this is to create space for minorities in healthcare and to act as an advocate for equity in patient care. In addition to working on the front end in device design, I volunteer at Children’s Healthcare of Atlanta with Sickle Cell Anemia patients, the majority of which are young black children, and tutor them for school, explain their diagnosis and how things work in their bodies, and act as a buffer between them and medical staff when their parents aren’t available to ensure they are not being taken advantage of. I aspire to be the voice of change and create spaces where minorities can feel safe rather than the all-too-common sentiment of being ignored or stereotyped in medical spaces. So often we are not accounted for or stereotyped both in our day-to-day lives and in healthcare, which results in the stories we see on the news and published statistics like the increased likelihood of black women dying during childbirth, black patients being prescribed highly addictive painkillers, or altogether having their pain or symptoms ignored. It is high time that accurate medical and engineering assumptions and decisions are made, and I intend to initiate that change. In fact, I believe I have already pushed the wheels of change by planting seeds in my peers, who will inevitably be changemakers of their own accord. Now, they will simply be more aware changemakers. Like any true Gryffindor, I have embarked on a journey for change and will see it through by any means necessary.

The pandemic revealed many points where our society has failed the black community, these were not necessarily things that we [as members of our community] were unaware of but it created the prevalence and urgency, bringing light to the situations that we have been screaming about for decades. The most prominent of which was police brutality. For the first time in ages, we saw the country stand together and hold hands in agreement that this was something that needed to end and it is a fight we continue today. In my home city of Atlanta, it is a current issue as the city would like to introduce Cop City, a brand new training facility in the heart of some of our largest black communities bringing the wolves to the rabbit’s front door. Although these happenings were certainly impactful and have created a level of trauma and awareness that are incomparable for myself and those of my generation especially, I want to focus on an aspect of the pandemic that is often overlooked. It is no secret that the black community has been abused and often placed at the forefront of mistreatment and neglect regarding labor. The most obvious attribution of this can be accredited to slavery but was also evident in the pandemic with the concept of the “essential worker”. Although this title was originally meant to describe medical personnel, it quickly expanded to mean anyone that worked a job that provides convenience to the lives of others - inclusive of but not limited to fast food, grocery store, and retail employees. In my community, the majority of the employees in these categories were black and while they had to go to work every day, risking their health at minimum and lives at most, the upper class had the privilege of staying home and working virtually with no fear of their income being compromised as a result of an illness that was highly communicable and killing people. The message that this unfortunate label of “essential worker” sent to these employees was that their service mattered more than their lives, their family's lives, and any fallout that may have resulted from their required continuance of service. To delve deeper into the abuse endured by the black community during the COVID-19 pandemic we can look no further than patient care. I lost two grandparents during the pandemic to strokes that were not treated, despite them having been brought to hospitals because they were misdiagnosed with “COVID”. As a result, they did not receive care that could have very likely saved both of their lives. In addition to this, access to COVID vaccines and testing sites was often not made accessible to lower-income black communities making it extremely difficult to stay well and further enforcing the labor abuse that employees were already experiencing with having to work in publicly exposed environments. The common thread between the labor and patient care abuse experienced by the black community during this pandemic is the lack of regard for our health and well-being. As I previously stated, we have endured neglect for decades, if not centuries. My main goal is to attend medical school and obtain an MD/JD to practice patient advocacy and advocate for the equitable treatment of black patients. My involvement in this space would allow me to create awareness for harmful practices that exist in the medical field such as: including bias in care (e.g. how seriously providers take descriptions of pain from black patients, purposeful prescription of highly addictive painkillers), access to clinics, predatory sick day policies, health benefits, etc. and initiate change through legislative pathways.

I grew up believing that my parents were my heroes and that the world was mine to conquer. I believed that the sky was the limit and that they would always support me. Having grown up in a suburban community and participating in club sports, I assumed that like our neighbors, my parents could afford our lifestyle. The truth, however; was that they could not. We were living paycheck to paycheck on a single income in a house we could not afford, supporting spending habits that we could not afford due to a lack of compromise and communication between my parents, which resulted in them being placed in credit card debt and financial ruin. My biggest obstacle in higher education has been having to pay my way through school. At times, I have worked as many as 3 jobs while being a full-time student, being part of a research lab, and an active member in professional and extracurricular clubs such as The National Society of Black Engineers, The Society of Women Engineers, Salsa Club, Medical Brigades, and The Black Women’s Support Group. This past semester was my first not working an extra job, as I was experiencing burnout and needed to fully focus on school, and it was my first semester getting a 4.0. It wasn’t until then that I realized I was capable of being a 4.0 student this whole time and it made me sad because, for the longest time, I struggled with imposter syndrome. It was never that I wasn’t as smart as my peers, no, it was that I wasn’t afforded the same privilege of having my life funded by my parents. I am currently studying biomedical engineering at Georgia Institute of Technology with a desire to attend medical school and become a physician. Having volunteered at Children’s Healthcare of Atlanta, I have witnessed nurses and hospital teachers discriminate against black patients by ignoring their pain, claiming they were “exaggerating” - an idea stemming from implicit bias and racism. This is the same bias that causes black women to die in childbirth at alarming rates. I plan to use my education to promote advocacy for the removal of bias in healthcare by providing a space for my patient's voices to be heard and promoting legislation that will solidify the importance of equitable care both on the side of medical device development and patient care.

As a rising 5th-year biomedical engineering student at Georgia Institute of Technology, I am nearing the end of my undergraduate academic career and the beginning of the impact I will have on my field and the world around me. The reality of this bittersweet moment is that the journey to get here has not always been easy, but it has always been clear. I am a black woman in a field that, despite working closely with medical personnel and holding the responsibility to provide space for equitable care, can be biased by design and results in misdiagnoses and deaths for those of us that are not of the perceived majority. I’ll never forget my first-year research project and discovering the devices used to diagnose melanoma are not inclusively trained, excluding data for what melanoma looks like in people of darker skin. This discrepancy is correlated to a higher death rate for people with darker complexions. It could have been avoided through inclusive clinical trials but was neglected because of bias. I love being a part of STEAM; it is a culmination of ever-evolving fields with a momentous capacity for change and innovation. Biomedical engineering alone pushes the belt of what healthcare looks like and how patients are assessed and cared for. I want to change the process and standards for medical device development such that it is required for clinical trials and studies to be equitable for all potential patients and not just those that are most common, considered standard, or statistically representative. I have spent my academic career working on design projects and always focusing on including marginalized groups of people when considering how to develop and test a device. This principle goes far beyond healthcare and biomedical engineering. It should be standard practice in all spaces to be equitable and considerate of the human beings surrounding you and sharing space with you. I recognize the gap, and it is a gap I have committed my entire academic career to resolving and will continue to commit to resolving as I progress professionally. I desire to leave a legacy that inspires those that come after me to think critically about the things they study and the world around them and for them to know that they can use the tools and skills provided through their education to change systems and ways of being that will create a safer and more equitable world.

In the spring of 2024, I will graduate with my Bachelor of Science in Biomedical Engineering from the Georgia Institute of Technology. After receiving my degree, I intend to return to graduate school and obtain a master’s degree. Currently, I am considering Industrial Design as I would like to get more into the creative side of my current degree. I also plan to take some time to get more medical experience. Since my undergraduate degree program is demanding, I found it emotionally taxing to take on coursework and gain medical experience. That being said, I decided it would be best to do this after getting my degree so I can focus and commit to those experiences. My goal after graduating, obtaining a master's, and taking some time to immerse myself in the medical field is to attend medical school, as I desire to become a dermatologist specializing in scalp health to combat issues like dermatitis, alopecia, breaking of the hair, itchy scalp, dandruff, and flaking. These are common issues that black women, especially, experience but are often brushed aside. I want to help my community by providing them with a friendly face that can relate to their experiences and that they can trust will aid them. For this reason, I am considering becoming a Doctor of Osteopathic Medicine because the approach is more holistic and focuses on resolving the issue rather than simply treating the symptoms with an ointment, pill, or other medicine. I want my patients to eventually not need me. My goal is to create a world where black women can feel confident in their hair again and end the “black hair doesn’t grow” stereotypes. I think that starts with a healthy scalp.

Hair is a big deal for black women and often plays a large role in how we view and feel about ourselves. Many of us grew up with rhetoric that our hair was a lot to deal with, messy, wool-like, or nappy. I can attest to that, as I was told these things by my peers growing up. It does not help that we did not see people that looked like us on television either. Very rarely did we see someone that looks like us with their natural hair or a natural hairstyle, like braids. In addition to the lack of representation, black women are subject to the stereotype that black hair does not grow and the circus wheel of hair products that not only do not work but cause issues in our hair. Due to these experiences, I want to be a dermatologist specializing in scalp health to aid black women as we are the most prone to dermatitis and alopecia. We also suffer from a myriad of annoyances like breakage, flaking, dandruff, product buildup, and itchy scalp. I deal with some of these and felt that this was the best track for me, especially considering that I was already naturally moving in this direction as I started a small business in my first year of college, which focuses on maintaining healthy hair with satin scrunchies, bonnets, scarves, and pillowcases (all of which I sew by hand). My goal in attending medical school and becoming a dermatologist specializing in scalp health is to help my community by providing them with a friendly face that can relate to their experiences and that they can trust will aid them. For this reason, I am considering becoming a Doctor of Osteopathic Medicine because the approach is more holistic and focuses on resolving the issue rather than simply treating the symptoms with an ointment, pill, or other medicine. I want my patients to eventually not need me. My goal is to create a world where black women can feel confident in their hair again and end the “black hair doesn’t grow” stereotypes. I think that starts with a healthy scalp. We need racial diversity in healthcare, not only because of the discrimination that occurs but because we all have different experiences and those experiences can only be truly understood and respected by people of the same background. Trying to communicate an issue and its impact only to be laughed at or told that this is “normal” for “someone like you” is dehumanizing. Seeing a medical professional should be an experience that builds us up, not one that we dread because we don’t know if we will be taken seriously. This is the reason we need racial diversity, to have a community, and I intend to build one. One strand at a time.

Creativity is not something you suddenly decide to explore or find yourself interested in. It is not a diamond that you uncover in a field. "Hey, look what I found!" The colors that spark interest, the smells that foster imagination, and the light from a sunset that you see, bubbling through the surface of the ocean, as you sit on the floor and look up through the blue waters demanding inspiration, calling you to create...that creativity runs through your veins. It is part of who you are. Every cell in my body has shaken with creativity and bows to her sweet whims and desires, but out of fear, I have not allowed myself to fully yield. In 2018 I began applying to college and though my heart told me to apply to art school, my brain and the voices of my parents, their doubts, and their worries, built a wall in my mind. I am currently studying biomedical engineering. A career path that still provides me with the freedom to be creative in medical device development from sketching my concepts to molding clay and creating visual prototypes to 3D modeling in AutoCAD. Yet still, my creative nature calls for more. I have always loved STEM. I have loved and enjoyed my art too. Yet, I constantly feel the tug between my heart and my head, convinced that I must choose one, that one will always be dominant over the other. This is but a mere myth. During quarantine, I started sewing more, a hobby, a love I have had since I was 11 years old [although now I do not sew through my fingers and have to wince in pain as my mom pulls out the threads] and upon my deep dives into the sewing community on YouTube, I found people like me. A plethora of successful fashion designers, who make anything from lingerie to gowns to corsets, coming from a STEM background like myself. They have been my inspiration to keep pushing myself and moving forward. They have confirmed that I do not need to attend a formal school to become a great designer and that I can make my passions fit into my study. "You do not have to choose a lane or a path that looks like the familiar boxes, you can create and mold one that is unique and special…meant exactly for you." That summer, I started my small business, ItzCurly Scrunchies, hand-making satin scrunchies, bonnets, scarves, pillowcases, and sleep eye masks. I continue to sew to this day and have designed and created my sister’s prom dress, my gown for the Bridgerton ball, and plenty of the pieces in my sister's closet and my own. My dream has always been to be a designer and own a clothing line. I am slowly working towards that goal. Whether designing and developing wearable technology under my current degree or finally starting that couture line I have dreamt of since my freshman year of high school. My desire and drive to create will always stay with me.

The sun is just rising, the air is crisp, the world appears bright and full of wonder with its bold colors, and you have nothing, but excitement and curiosity in your minds eye. Oh the joys of being young and naive. You are four when your hair is touched without consent for the first time with the comment “Its so exotic and unruly” lagging behind. Unprovoked. Unwarranted. Inexcusable. Void of decency. You are only six years old when you hear “You must be adopted, you don’t look like your parents” and you cry wondering why you aren’t darker, why you aren’t lighter, why you aren’t good enough as you are. You are twelve when you have your first black teacher and for the first time you begin to notice the pale world you exist in. You notice no one looks like you. You notice the faces behind the TV screen don’t look like you. You notice your hair products aren’t really meant for you with their harmful chemicals that do nothing but dry out and tangle the coils that wisp our of your head, perfectly intertwined, screaming for life. Resentment begins to creep in, its cold claws are quick to strangle, but silent and well calculated. Resentment for your existence. Resentment for not fitting the beauty standard that swallows the world whole. Resentment for not looking more like…them. Resentment that you are not worthy of representation on any front. It suffocates you. Growing up nothing was meant for me or for people who look like me. From hair products to ballet classes to friend groups, I felt ostracized. I felt as if it was only me in the world who had no one and nothing. It was not until I went to college that I found people who felt the same way I did and it was not until then that I encountered the severity of the exclusion. You may be familiar with medical racisim (the mistreatment and lack of equal care of people of color in medical spaces), but did you know it is further enabled by engineers and faulty algorithms? In my sophomore year of undergrad, a project on engineering bias revealed that devices meant to detect melanoma (skin cancer), were not detecting the cancer in black patients due to the bias that “Black people can’t burn in the sun so they can’t get skin cancer” an old, false, slavery-old ideaology, which resulted in a lack of data on black patients being included in the algorithm. Biases like these are dangerous and they put people of color in danger of misdiagnosis, mistreatment and exclusion from medical care. In this case it results in African-American women having higher risk of death from melanoma than any other demographic. As a biomedical engineering student, it is my responsibility to educate my peers, help them develop critical thinking skills and empathy, and provide insight to advocate for my community and other disenfranchised communities so we are not excluded and left behind in the development of medical technology. When I graduate, I plan on using my experience, my degree, and my passion to start a consulting firm and oversee the design process of medical tools to ensure they are not biased and adequately cater to every user. After all medical care should be equal and reliable for all of us, not some of us.

The sun is just rising, the air is crisp, the world appears bright and full of wonder with its bold colors, and you have nothing, but excitement and curiosity in your minds eye. Oh the joys of being young and naive. You are four when your hair is touched without consent for the first time with the comment “Its so exotic and unruly” lagging behind. Unprovoked. Unwarranted. Inexcusable. Void of decency. You are only six years old when you hear “You must be adopted, you don’t look like your parents” and you cry wondering why you aren’t darker, why you aren’t lighter, why you aren’t good enough as you are. You are twelve when you have your first black teacher and for the first time you begin to notice the pale world you exist in. You notice no one looks like you. You notice the faces behind the TV screen don’t look like you. You notice your hair products aren’t really meant for you with their harmful chemicals that do nothing but dry out and tangle the coils that wisp our of your head, perfectly intertwined, screaming for life. Resentment begins to creep in, its cold claws are quick to strangle, but silent and well calculated. Resentment for your existence. Resentment for not fitting the beauty standard that swallows the world whole. Resentment for not looking more like…them. Resentment that you are not worthy of representation on any front. It suffocates you. Growing up nothing was meant for me or for people who look like me. From hair products to ballet classes to friend groups, I felt ostracized. I felt as if it was only me in the world who had no one and nothing. It was not until I went to college that I found people who felt the same way I did and it was not until then that I encountered the severity of the exclusion. You may be familiar with medical racisim (the mistreatment and lack of equal care of people of color in medical spaces), but did you know it is further enabled by engineers and faulty algorithms? In my sophomore year of undergrad, a project on engineering bias revealed that devices meant to detect melanoma (skin cancer), were not detecting the cancer in black patients due to the bias that “Black people can’t burn in the sun so they can’t get skin cancer” an old, false, slavery-old ideaology, which resulted in a lack of data on black patients being included in the algorithm. Biases like these are dangerous and they put people of color in danger of misdiagnosis, mistreatment and exclusion from medical care. In this case it results in African-American women having higher risk of death from melanoma than any other demographic. As a biomedical engineering student, it is my responsibility to educate my peers, help them develop critical thinking skills and empathy, and provide insight to advocate for my community and other disenfranchised communities so we are not excluded and left behind in the development of medical technology. When I graduate, I plan on using my experience, my degree, and my passion to start a consulting firm and oversee the design process of medical tools to ensure they are not biased and adequately cater to every user. After all medical care should be equal and reliable for all of us, not some of us.

The sun is just rising, the air is crisp, the world appears bright and full of wonder with its bold colors, and you have nothing, but excitement and curiosity in your minds eye. Oh the joys of being young and naive. You are four when your hair is touched without consent for the first time with the comment “Its so exotic and unruly” lagging behind. Unprovoked. Unwarranted. Inexcusable. Void of decency. You are only six years old when you hear “You must be adopted, you don’t look like your parents” and you cry wondering why you aren’t darker, why you aren’t lighter, why you aren’t good enough as you are. You are twelve when you have your first black teacher and for the first time you begin to notice the pale world you exist in. You notice no one looks like you. You notice the faces behind the TV screen don’t look like you. You notice your hair products aren’t really meant for you with their harmful chemicals that do nothing but dry out and tangle the coils that wisp our of your head, perfectly intertwined, screaming for life. Resentment begins to creep in, its cold claws are quick to strangle, but silent and well calculated. Resentment for your existence. Resentment for not fitting the beauty standard that swallows the world whole. Resentment for not looking more like…them. Resentment that you are not worthy of representation on any front. It suffocates you. Growing up nothing was meant for me or for people who look like me. From hair products to ballet classes to friend groups, I felt ostracized. I felt as if it was only me in the world who had no one and nothing. It was not until I went to college that I found people who felt the same way I did and it was not until then that I encountered the severity of the exclusion. You may be familiar with medical racisim (the mistreatment and lack of equal care of people of color in medical spaces), but did you know it is further enabled by engineers and faulty algorithms? In my sophomore year of undergrad, a project on engineering bias revealed that devices meant to detect melanoma (skin cancer), were not detecting the cancer in black patients due to the bias that “Black people can’t burn in the sun so they can’t get skin cancer” an old, false, slavery-old ideology, which resulted in a lack of data on black patients being included in the algorithm. Biases like these are dangerous and they put people of color in danger of misdiagnosis, mistreatment and exclusion from medical care. In this case it results in African-American women having higher risk of death from melanoma than any other demographic. As a biomedical engineering student, it is my responsibility to educate my peers, help them develop critical thinking skills and empathy, and provide insight to advocate for my community and other disenfranchised communities so we are not excluded and left behind in the development of medical technology. When I graduate, I plan on using my experience, my degree, and my passion to start a consulting firm and oversee the design process of medical tools to ensure they are not biased and adequately cater to every user. After all medical care should be equal and reliable for all of us, not some of us.

Melanoma is a heterogeneous disease arising from epidermal melanocytes that has the highest mortality rate of all forms of skin cancers and according to the American Cancer Society, it is the most common skin cancer. The International Skin Imaging Collaboration (ISIC) is a joint initiative between academia and industry aimed at improving the detection of melanoma and reducing mortality from melanoma by promoting the use of digital skin imaging technologies. The majority of the data utilized for AI-driven melanoma screenings comes from white populations because it is believed they are more susceptible to developing melanoma and their data collection is prioritized. Thus, there is a deficient amount of data for people of color, which results in the AI’s inability to accurately diagnose melanoma when presented, especially in those with dark skin tones. As a result, people of color go undiagnosed or are diagnosed in late stages of melanoma, which often results in death. According to the American Academy of Dermatology, people of color have a 73% survival rate, while white Americans have a 90% survival rate. Ultimately, this representational (and racial) bias stems from the idea that dark skin is adequate protection from the sun’s rays, and due to that people of color are less likely to develop melanoma [if at all]. This belief is an inherently false idea, yet it is utilized as a basis of medical care and research. The American Academy of Dermatology makes a point, on their website, to recognize that all people of all colors and backgrounds are at risk of skin cancer even if they have never been sunburned. They also acknowledge that melanoma presents differently in people of color and even go as far as to make suggestions as to how they can better prevent or recognize skin cancer for themselves. Although these statements and advice are publicly available, they are not translated into the data that is used for diagnosis and treatment. This major flaw costs many people of color their lives every year. I am a third-year Biomedical Engineering student at Georgia Institute of Technology. The amount of racial, gender, economic, and weight-based biases I have witnessed other students project into their design projects, [and go un-checked] is absurd. Diversity is needed, especially in the field of Biomedical Engineering, to create space for people of all backgrounds and that cannot be accomplished without creating an environment where all individuals are welcomed and respected within those fields. Engineering, like so many fields, has been a white, male-dominated space for a long time. Unfortunately, within the technology and development industry [and any industry for that matter], there can be no progress without diversity of background and mindset, which requires contributions of individuals from various cultures and countries. In particular, referring back to the first paragraph, preventing biases in medical technology cannot be done without the insight of a culturally diverse group of people. To combat stereotypes, which are implemented into technology designs as a result of implicit biases, equal representation is required. How can I combat this? I combat stereotypes and biases by posing questions that allow my classmates to think critically about their misconceptions and how that might conflict with the development of their posed device. In the future, I hope to continue doing this by being a part of device development teams. My participation in device development and the insight I can provide as a woman of color, will help in diminishing racial and gender biases in the development of medical technology and allowing them to be more effective.

Unbeknownst the world, a name that has yet to spark conversation at the dinner table and an individual that has yet to break barriers. Nothing but potential as the universe only provides time for us to gain our skills and find amazing ways to use them. A woman of color, bound to enter the world of engineering and create solutions free from bias in the most creative method possible, utilizing her passion for design in every step. My favorite scientific artist is myself and will continue to be myself as the strategy of believing in oneself is what propels us farther than we would ever go in doubt or fear.

The high-pitched, celestial screech of silence echoes throughout the hospital room as all voices fall into the background. You look around frantically, but time is moving so slowly you do not feel yourself being shoved out or see the door being slammed in your face. A single tear rolls down your face and into the corner of your mouth. The only image you can see is the replayed memory of seeing that number...that zero... that flat line on the EKG machine. Finally, it clicks and reality returns to you slowly. The chaos that has ensued. Nurses and doctors running down the hallway, entering the room and ignoring you, you do not exist. Every time the door opens you hear yelling, what seems to be instructions, your heart begins to sink. What can I do...you think to yourself. Sinking to your knees on the cold tiled floor you begin to pray, Heavenly father please protect my wife, please provide her the strength to make it through this and come back to me...to her family. Please do not let her be neglected and guide the nurses and doctors with your wisdom. The chaos around you once again goes to the wayside as you hone in on praying, giving your all. Until you notice it has stopped. No more blaring sirens and flashing lights, no more quick footsteps up and down the hall, no more opening and closing of the door, no more yelling, no more anything. You slowly lift your head to see five nurses and one doctor staring at you. One of the nurses is silently crying, while the rest have seemingly straight faces. They quickly disperse to return to their jobs and the doctor stays behind. “We are deeply sorry for your loss, we tried everything we could.” The typical message, no emotion, no compassion, no information on why or how. She is gone. Minorities, especially African American women, are very likely to be mistreated with prejudice, misdiagnosed, or receive inadequate treatment in hospital environments, which most often results in death. In my biomedical engineering courses, after researching the treatment of pregnant African American women and the diagnosis of African American women with melanoma using AI, I came to realize the blatant racial biases within not only the medical field but within the biomedical engineering field as well. These biases are unacceptable and result in the loss of lives. I was extremely disheartened to continuously see fellow students, being white, impart their biases during a presentation I gave on the correlation between high stress and diabetes in the African American community and the lack of healthy food options within urban communities. The common response was “Why can’t they go to WholeFoods or Walmart?”...completely ignoring the placement of grocery stores like WholeFoods and Walmart and the accessibility due to cost. Many of these students, like myself, are also pre-med. It is all too common within the medical field to find individuals who have biases and either purposely act on them or inadvertently apply them to their daily practice. Unfortunately, some biases, such as the African Americans' pain complex, are taught in medical school and included in the calculations physicians use when administering pain medication. Resulting in minorities receiving less medication than needed. Statistically, minorities have higher chances of surviving in medical environments when they are seen by a physician of their background. As a black woman, it is not an opportunity to work in underserved communities; it is a duty. As a black woman and future physician, I am the best chance my people have of receiving proper and attentive treatment.