I was zipping up my gown for the Miss Georgia USA Finals when the phone rang.

Harvard.

It wasn’t just an email or a letter—it was a call. A real voice, asking if I was still interested in applying. One moment I was preparing for the stage, the next, I was holding a student ID card that read “Harvard University.”  Mrs. Cathay’s words rang in my mind, “You deserve to do something for just you for once. Take care of you.” That moment didn’t feel like a dream. It felt like a door. One I had fought for...one I wasn’t going to waste.

But life didn’t slow down to congratulate me.

I didn’t arrive with a safety net or privilege. No cheering relatives. No legacy advantages. I came with just an unwavering vision, and a long history of betting on myself—even when the odds were stacked against me.

At Harvard, I found both magic and mess.

I’ve danced at the balls, participated in student gatherings, and advocated for equity at the highest levels. I met my best friend, Naveed (may he rest in peace) and together we stood up for HES students around the world. When my cancer returned, Naveed rallied me. He never let me slip into the shadows of feeling like “the sick girl.” He saw me whole.

    Even when the illness spread.
   Even when I almost died.
   Even when I had to relearn how to walk.

I kept showing up.

There were days I couldn't breathe. Nights when pain screamed louder than any textbook. Yet, I showed up.

I signed into class from hospital beds. Asked doctors to wait  on meds and/some procedures so I could hear lectures. I submitted assignments through shaking hands and searing pains...not because I had to prove anything, but because I knew what I was building.

I was dismissed, underestimated, even disrespected by some instructors and faculty.
                             But I was also deeply seen by others.

Dr. M told me, “It’s okay to not be okay.”
Professor Murphy reminded me, “You’re a great student” and to not be so hard on myself. Professors had told me "You wouldn't be here if you weren't supposed to be." 

I held onto those words. And I kept going.

Since enrollment, I’ve:

• Been published multiple times

• Built several profitable companies

• Earned nine awards

• Made the Dean’s List

• Earned several certificates

• Advocated for myself and others, globally

• Fought 2 forms of cancer

.....all while attending full-time every term.

This wasn’t a clean path. It wasn’t handed to me.

But this isn’t just about survival. It’s about refusal—the refusal to shrink.

Because I don’t come from easy.

I come from extremely below the poverty line.
    From instability.

     From no blueprint or backup plan.

     From a completely untraditional education path

          I come from no one was coming to save me.

But I also come from power—power born from continuously looking forward.

I believed I would build something. And I was willing to fight for it, even when oppositions tried to stop me. Sure, it's hard to build when you don’t have much, but I knew I had one thing that would see me through.

 What I had was belief—deep, radical belief that I could make it. And a relentless work ethic to match.

The road has been brutal—but it’s mine.

And through every high and low, I’ve stayed anchored in one truth:

I will fight.

I will heal.

I will thrive.

    Unapologetically.

That’s my theme. My truth. My legacy in motion.

And now, I move forward.

   I’ll be continuing my neurobiological research.

   Building what doesn’t yet exist.
  Creating space for others to fight, heal, and thrive too.

If you’ve been part of this journey in any way, thank you. If you’re just meeting me now, welcome. Your presence here is seen and appreciated.

This isn't just a graduation.

It’s a declaration.

There are unknowns ahead—but I’ve survived worse.
And I didn’t come this far just to arrive.  

Not perfectly. Not pain-free. But powerfully.

I came to lead. To build. To keep going & growing ... unapologetically.