If I had to go to the beginning, I would say that love and care from my family shaped me.

My parents worked hard when I was young. They made sure I got a good education and they gave me everything I wanted. I used to take the bus from school to my grandparents’ home. My aunt was always there to tutor me for my exams and homework — but she was also building my personality and values as a woman at the same time. My mother took care of the rest of my agenda for school at night.

These two women — my aunt and my mother — taught me how to be a woman like them: genuine, resilient, and caring. They gave me advice whenever I struggled. I learned from them how to be a woman who knows what she is worth, who is kind even when things are tough, who works hard, and who is strong and gentle at the same time.

They taught me things that you do not learn in school. How to be patient. How to care about others. How to be genuine. They showed me that being a woman is not about being perfect. It is about being real, honest, living the moment, being strong in what you believe, and being kind.

My grandmother was an influence on me too. She believed in me. She was always proud of me. She always told me that I would become a doctor one day — and she really meant it. This year, when I passed my entrance exam and ranked, was an emotional moment for me. I felt like I was carrying a part of her with me.

But what also shaped me were the lessons I learned on my own, at an early age. I trusted people who did not deserve it. I believed in things that were not true. That hurts. It also taught me a lot. I think everyone should learn this lesson for themselves.

So I learned to be careful about who I trust. I learned to protect my time and my energy. I know that they are valuable.

I think that is what defines me today: I am someone who was helped by others but also learned to stand up for myself. And now, I carry this quiet responsibility in me — to give back, to help others, to be for someone else what my family once was for me.

It started really simply. I was volunteering as a maths tutor for underserved youth — young people who did not have many opportunities to be educated — and I did not expect it to affect me that much. But it really did.

At first, I thought I was just helping with homework. Explaining lessons. But it became so much more than that. I started building real connections with them. I learned how to adapt to each of them — how to explain things in ways that actually made sense to them, not just the way school teaches it. I created little tricks, small methods. And slowly, I saw something change. They started understanding. They started believing in themselves.

And then suddenly, the organisation I was volunteering with — 26 Letters — closed. And I started to think: What now? Do I just stop? Is this the end?

Honestly, I could not. It did not feel right to just walk away after seeing the impact that support can have on someone. That is when I realised this was not just a volunteering experience to put on my CV and forget about. It was something I was responsible for now.

So I decided to launch my own initiative: Youth and Pulse, aiming to continue helping students — especially those who need it the most — with workshops on basic science. We focus on topics that everyone should have an understanding of, in collaboration with other international initiatives sharing the same goal. Through this, I wanted students to see the power they have to make an impact on this world too.

I work mainly with young people — especially those who feel like they have been left behind. Students who have potential, intelligence, curiosity, but not always the support or opportunities to express it.

At the beginning, many of them come in doubting themselves. They think they are “bad at school” or that certain subjects just are not for them. But when we start working together — through simple explanations, through real connection — you can actually see a change happening. They start understanding. But more importantly, they start believing that they can understand. That they can contribute.

That is the real transformation for me. Not just understanding — but confidence. Not just knowledge — but self-worth.

What makes our approach different is that we do not come in as mentors who just deliver information and walk out. We come in as people who genuinely care, who leave space for young people to express themselves and give their opinions. We work on visual activities as much as we can, because people remember the things that moved them, that surprised them, that made them laugh.

In a world where a lot of projects exist, I think what makes Youth and Pulse special is that it was never created as just an idea. It was created from a real experience, from real people, and from a moment where stopping did not feel right.

When I was young, I practised Muay Thai. I was proud of that part of my life because there were not a lot of girls in it. I loved the discipline, the intensity — this feeling of pushing myself beyond what I thought I could do.

Not everyone believed in that. I remember being told, indirectly, that I would not be strong enough. That it was not really for girls. That I would not go far no matter how hard I tried. I used to remind people that women in World War II took on jobs labelled for men — and succeeded. Why would not I?

And I did achieve something I am still proud of: I won a fight in a championship at the gym where I trained. That moment meant a lot to me because it showed me that a girl could do Muay Thai.

The biggest change for me was learning to quiet the voice in my head that always said I was not ready.

I used to think about things a lot. Was I good enough? Should I really do this? I would wonder and second-guess before I even tried. Because of this, I often stopped myself from doing things. I cared too much about doing things perfectly.

But as time went on I learned that there is no perfect time when you will feel ready. You get ready by doing things. By stepping out of your comfort zone. It is okay to be imperfect. We are human and we make mistakes.

The hardest moments were the times I felt a lot of responsibility on my shoulders but had to keep everything going like it was easy. There were moments of exhaustion where I was giving so much energy outwardly while feeling drained internally — but still showing up because I did not want to let anyone down.

But those moments taught me something I live by now: to take a break and not stress over everything. I learned that being accountable does not mean being superhuman. It means giving myself grace, saying “no” when I need to, and understanding that my integrity is worth more than pretending I am fine.

I do not want to be a leader people fear or feel uncertain around. I want to be someone people feel comfortable with — a best friend, a sister, a mentor — someone they can trust, talk to, and actually grow with. I want to be the leader where people are not afraid to make mistakes, to speak, and to contribute in their own way.

I had the opportunity to be part of an exchange programme called The Experiment Digital: Leadership in STEM in 2025, where I completed a leadership assessment. The result: Fire Leader.

I believe I am a fire person who offers hope to their surroundings and maintains a strong combination of vitality and drive.

In the next chapter of my journey, I will be building my path in medicine with the goal of becoming a doctor who can help as many people as I can. I have already achieved the first step: passing the entrance medical exam.

At the same time, I am nurturing Youth and Pulse. I envision growing this mission further — reaching more youth, expanding it locally, and turning it into a real community here in Lebanon, and in international countries later.

I am building a future where my work as a doctor, as a mentor, and as a woman of principle all go hand in hand.