Angelina Kekhia
From a young age, I learned that stability is never guaranteed. I arrived in the United States from Syria at eight years old with my mother, and for years, Temporary Protected Status (TPS) has allowed us to build a life grounded in perseverance and hope. Maintaining our legal status has always required constant responsibility, vigilance, and sacrifice. While TPS enables me to remain in the U.S. and pursue higher education, it does not grant access to federal financial aid or most traditional scholarships. I was raised by a single mother whose quiet resilience carried us through every challenge, and her strength has shaped the way I confront adversity. She is the reason I pursue my ambitions with discipline and persistence.
I began my higher education at a community college, where I earned my associate degree through long hours of work, persistence, and determination. This path gave me access to education when my opportunities were limited by my financial situation. This ultimately allowed me to transfer as a junior to Trinity College, a place that represents opportunity, excellence, and with my hard work a clear pathway to success. Earning my place at Trinity was a defining moment, yet financial limitations now stand in the way of fully embracing this opportunity.
My passion for neuroscience and medicine has guided my studies from the beginning. I am deeply fascinated by the complexity of the brain and the ways neurological dysfunction shapes human experience. Beyond the science, I am drawn to the analytical and problem-solving nature of medicine where clinical reasoning meets compassion. As a pre-med student, I aspire to become a physician who recognizes that health is not solely biological, but also emotional, social, and profoundly shaped by lived experience, particularly within marginalized communities.
Yet as a TPS holder and non-permanent resident, and though I attended Newton public schools in Massachusetts since the third grade, I remain ineligible for federal financial aid and most scholarships. Regardless of merit, my immigration status often disqualifies me before my application is even considered. Most of my education has been funded through my own earnings and my mother’s sacrifices. In addition to tuition, the ongoing costs of maintaining legal status further strain our limited finances. Each semester, every tuition bill, textbook purchase, and basic living expense, becomes a calculation of whether I can remain on the path toward medical school.
Financial assistance would mean far more than relief. It would be an investment in my ability to persist, graduate, and ultimately serve others through medicine. It would allow me to remain enrolled full-time, access essential academic resources, and focus on learning rather than survival. More than that, it would affirm my mother’s sacrifices and the journey that brought me here.
Her strength remains my greatest motivation. I strive to become a physician who leads with empathy, advocacy, and integrity. With the support of generous donors, what my family has fought for can finally stand not as uncertainty—but as a lasting foundation for service, leadership, and long-term impact.
