Spring 2025 Winner of the Bridge to Success Scholarship

Joyance Liao Mendoza

Joyance’s firsthand encounters with disparities in the healthcare system have fueled his commitment to creating meaningful change in the industry. Driven by a determination to stand up for those at a disadvantage, he chose to pursue a career in pharmacy. Congratulations, Joyance, we look forward to all of the positive changes you will continue to make!

Read his essay

When we crossed the border into the U.S., I didn’t just leave behind the country I was born in—I left behind a version of myself. One that didn’t yet know how hard it would be to start over in a place where everything, from the language to the healthcare system, felt like a puzzle I wasn’t given all the pieces to.

We settled in South Texas, in a quiet town where the summers were scorching and the pharmacies always packed. That’s where I had my first taste of what it meant to translate—not just words, but worry. I was barely a teenager, standing next to my parents at the pharmacy counter, trying to explain side effects, dosages, and insurance denials in English I was still learning myself. “Mijo, ¿qué dice?” my mom would whisper, her voice trembling. I’d do my best to translate, but it never felt like enough. Not when the stakes were her health.

My parents are warriors. They’ve survived poverty, chronic illness, and jobs that left their hands blistered. My mom’s diabetes and my dad’s schizophrenia weren’t just medical terms—they were realities I lived with. And yet, despite all that, they never stopped pushing me toward something bigger. College, they said, could be the door we’d been knocking on for generations.

But just when I thought I had things figured out, life threw another curveball. During the pandemic, a bacterial infection wrecked my already fragile heart. I went from celebrating my last year of undergrad to being isolated in a hospital bed, scared out of my mind. No visitors. No family. Just machines and silence. I finally understood, in a painfully intimate way, what it felt like to be reduced to a chart—another number in a broken system.

That moment changed everything.

I knew then that I didn’t just want to work in healthcare. I wanted to fight for the people who, like my parents, get lost in it. So I chose pharmacy. But I didn’t stop at the classroom. I joined the Hispanic Association of Pharmacists, helped organize health screenings, and worked to make sure families like mine got the care they deserved. At Walgreens, I still translate for patients who remind me of my mom. Every "thank you" hits a part of me that’s still healing.

Through the Public Health Service, I served Native American communities in Phoenix and saw how powerful culturally competent care can be. At the FDA, I worked on drug safety and policy—learning how decisions behind closed doors affect lives in waiting rooms. These weren’t just internships. They were glimpses into the kind of change I want to create.

Now in my third year of pharmacy school, I carry my family’s story with me every step of the way. It's in the late nights, the leadership roles, the quiet moments where I wonder how far we’ve come. My heart condition didn’t just scar my body—it sharpened my purpose.

I’ll be the pharmacist I wish my parents had. Someone who sees the full person behind the prescription. Someone who speaks their language, literally and figuratively. One prescription, one patient, one barrier at a time.