When I was young, my father took me to work with him in the laboratory. I still remember the vivid memories of the cold feeling of the lab table against my fingertips, the spectrum of bacteria examined through a microscope, and the stirring whiz of the centrifuge floods back a recollection of euphoria. For my nine-year-old self, this was the zenith of discovery. I quickly became obsessive over the medical field. I encroached on a world on which I was barely able to fathom, one that necessitated perseverance and rigidity.
More recently, during my spring semester of freshman year, I received the opportunity to work in Dr. Li Zheng’s lab at the University of Texas at Dallas. In the lab, we researched the effects of a particular protein on lung cancer. This lab, was my first hands on experience anywhere remotely in the area of research. In all honesty, I was ecstatic. The idea of me playing part in the medical advancement of cancer treatment left me in awe. The importance of research and how crucial it was to the development of medicine finally came to fruition. What is
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I’ve always admired and, envisioned myself becoming a general practitioner. Throughout my childhood I would always see doctors, but none of them were exactly relatable. More specifically none of them were African American. I couldn’t envision myself as a Black doctor if I never saw one myself. The shortage or lack of African Americans in the healthcare professions industry is alarming, downright staggering to an extent. As a child, I believe that is immensely impactful to actually see your role models. I want to rectify this problem that’s prevalent in our society today. I want to become that role model. This is what drives me, this is what motivates me, to beat the odds. Growing up I didn’t have a chance to see what I wanted to be, but I stuck with my aspirations, knowing I was the one who was going to correct