My mom had an obsession with pumpkin-spiced lattes one fall. I recall sliding into the front seat in elementary school, after a long day filled with loud recesses and demanding teachers, only to have the winding smell of cinnamon tickle my nose as my mom turned to smile at me. This was before she had the rest of my two siblings, which meant after school, we would go shopping straight to the mall at my request. She would stop and McDonald's for me and I would get a McChicken to prove how cool I was to her and how ready I was for my own pumpkin-spice latte (to no avail because "little girls should not be having caffeine"). Regardless, we would walk through the mall until our legs hurt with empty hands because we didn't like anything-and because I liked holding my mom's hands but I would never admit it because that would be very uncool of me. I would also watch my mom, the way she would enter a store with dignity, her latte in one hand and me in the other, gliding through the store like the ghost of a regal queen, chatting with the workers, examining the mirrors, and flashing her brilliant pearly smile at the world. We would watch science shows and educational documentaries whenever we got back, but I always thought my mother was the most phenomenal scientific invention yet. Now, I am older. I walk to high school on my own and back (except for rainy and snowy days because I get my fingers and toes cold super easily). But sometimes, because it's on my way home, of course; I stop by the Starbucks in the plaza near my school just when school starts, and pick up a pumpkin-spice latte that I nurse all the way home. My mom doesn't pick me up or drop me off at home, I have a five-year-old sister and a one-year-old brother, who have now snatched her hands and her smile away from me, but I am cool with it, for I am old enough to have caffeine and don't need anyone to help me cross the road. So I hold their little hands, smile at their small faces, and go to malls, where I let them buy whatever they want at Claire's and Lindt (because I have a job and I can), and sometimes, when I get to grab a drink from Starbucks, a cake pop (albeit it gets everywhere and I do get scolded; it has not caffeine it in).

Academic pursuits often resemble a labyrinth, and in my intricate journey, my Muslim identity stands as my unwavering compass, guiding me through success and failure. My earliest understanding of what it meant to be Muslim began at the age of six when my parents recounted their arduous journeys of fleeing their countries due to Muslims equating to danger, destruction, and demons. Their narratives shaped my perception of the world, and as they wished, I developed a resolute commitment to embody the principles of excellence, compassion, and contributing positively to both my immediate surroundings and the broader global community. As my faith desires for me too, because that is what it means to be Muslim. From those naive years, I sewed the message that my parents imparted: to do good—be it in academics, relationships, or the world at large. Shatter the stereotypes. In Sunday school, my teachers said almost daily that paradise rests beneath a mother's feet, and my actions would illuminate my father's path to heaven; so I should do them justice. This conviction was my driving force as I immersed myself in my studies, striving for personal growth while honoring the legacy of resilience and faith that my parents bestowed upon me. While pursuing my educational ambitions, I encountered trials that tested my resolve. The hijab I proudly wore became a symbol of my identity, attracting both curious inquiries and hostile reactions. The media's portrayal of Muslims cast shadows of suspicion, leading me to confront misconceptions perpetuated by headlines. Despite these trials, I remained resolute in my journey. I wore my hijab like a crown and recognized that my faith was a beacon so bright that it drowned everything else out. That was how I defied the stereotypes that almost every Muslim child faces here in Western society where we are portrayed as literal ticking bombs. Over time, my admiration for the medical field deepened, and I decided on a specialty: cardiothoracic surgery. This aspiration stems not only from my parents' desire for me to embody goodness but also from my innate passion to alleviate suffering and please Allah the All Mighty. Embarking on the path of cardiothoracic surgery, I find symbolism in the heart—a vessel close to the soul which embraces the heavens. As a surgeon, I aspire to heal the creatures of Allah so that he is pleased with me. The significance of this scholarship extends beyond financial assistance; it embodies an opportunity to further align my aspirations with my values. By alleviating the financial burdens of education, it would empower me to dedicate myself fully to my studies and community service. My ultimate ambition is to extend the gift of free surgeries to those in need, embodying the essence of selfless service that my faith champions. As I progress in my medical journey, I envision a future where my actions speak louder than words, where my skills and compassion converge to uplift the lives of those I touch. With profound gratitude, I aspire to be a guardian of this scholarship's intent—to honor it by paying it forward. Through dedicated service, I envision a cycle of positive impact, where each life I touch echoes the ideals of compassion, understanding, and unity. As I humbly seek this scholarship of $1500, I commit to manifesting its spirit in the surgeries I perform, each one an embodiment of the goodwill that the scholarship and my faith represent. One surgery at a time. Inshallah.