Title: From Pipelines to People: My Journey as an Immigrant in STEM

The Echo of Morning Bells

Every morning before school, my father would stand beneath the same buzzing fluorescent bulb in our kitchen and whisper Urdu verses as he stirred tea for my sisters and me. “Ilm ek noor hai,” he would often say—“Knowledge is a light.” In those quiet moments, watching his eyes soften with each repetition, I came to understand that education wasn't just a path forward; for immigrants like us, it was our very way out.

We arrived in the U.S. when I was ten, clutching green-tinted passports and the weight of both hope and silence. Hope, because we knew America nourished dreams. Silence, because we didn’t yet know how to ask for space in a world that didn’t always make room. For years, school was the echo of unfamiliar syllables and the ache of avoiding eye contact, but science—science never judged accents.

Discovering Belonging in a Beaker

Ms. Angelo’s chemistry lab became my sanctuary in high school. There was no need to belong when molecules danced the same for everyone. I fell in love with how principles of physics stitched themselves invisibly to the world—a kind of secret poetry only a handful could read.

In sophomore year, I applied to a summer research program funded by the National Science Foundation—an REU opportunity with a focus on underrepresented students in STEM. Receiving that acceptance letter felt like unlocking the first page of my own chapter, not one my parents had written for me. That summer, I worked on water purification prototypes alongside other students who, like me, bore the hyphenated identities of being American yet something else. We shared stories between experiments, laughed at our mispronounced last names, and bonded over the gentle miracle of finally being seen.

The Cut That Unraveled Futures

When I learned this past year that federal funding for that very program had been slashed, I felt something deeper than disappointment; I felt disbelief. Sixteen U.S. states had sued the National Science Foundation, arguing that DEI (diversity, equity, inclusion) initiatives in STEM were discriminatory. The REU program I’d credited with launching my confidence was among those potentially on the chopping block. [Source: https://www.courthousenews.com/16-states-sue-national-science-foundation-in-latest-dei-clash/]

How could the very bridge that let me cross into STEM now be deemed unnecessary?

I wasn’t alone in asking. Friends from that summer, now in undergrad and even graduate programs, flooded social media with stories like mine. Each story a tremor in the aftermath of a bigger quake. Not everyone has safety nets. Some of us only had that one grant, that one mentor, that one moment to say, “Yes, you belong here.”

Lessons in Light

What I’ve learned since is that science, though often described as objective, exists in very human systems. Systems that can either turn pathways into pipelines or into walls. My story stands on the back of policy decisions made unseen in suits and courtrooms—but it also stands on the unwavering hands of immigrant parents, a public school teacher who believed in me, and a program that gave me more than research experience; it gave me permission to dream beyond survival.

I'm now pursuing biomedical engineering, fueled by the belief that the world needs more voices like mine not just at the bench, but at the boardroom. I'm not just building instruments—I want to help design systems where no one’s dreams hinge on lawsuits or funding losses.

Because ilm is still noor. And light, if nurtured, finds a way to reach even the darkest corners.

If admitted to your institution, I hope to continue balancing beakers and barriers, telling stories in both math and metaphor, and building room where others feel seen—not someday, but now.