Penn Gallery

This photo was taken at the African Family & Health Organization’s celebration for adult learners who completed their ESL and digital literacy classes. Although it was only our first week, we were heavily involved in the planning of this event: decorating the office, assembling gift bags, and planning games. This picture shows a scene from a cup stacking contest we held for attendees. The tower seen above is seconds away from completely collapsing. With less than a minute left to build it back up, the team scrambles to collect fallen cups and stack them in singular, unsteady rows. We watched as it fell once more, just as the timer ended. Opposite to them stood the winning tower. Although shorter, the cups were stacked on a wider base, giving them a stronger foundation to build on.

I chose this photo because I felt it represents AFAHO’s impact on the West African refugees and immigrants they serve. My conversations with staff and students over the course of the summer stressed the amount of support needed for those relocating to an entirely new country. Not only are community members often managing the mental toll of experiences they leave behind, they are also faced with the challenge of navigating unfamiliar infrastructure. Language barriers, gaps in cultural understanding, and other systemic obstacles make it difficult to seek the crucial social services. These are necessary for many to establish a solid foundation here in the United States. This is the center of AFAHO’s mission: to be the bridge that connects the community to health and social services. They do this through a variety of programs and by working directly with individuals to secure housing, healthcare, food, and education. This summer, we have been privileged to assist with their different departments. Our work has been intentionally varied, reflecting the many ways in which AFAHO supports the community. We assisted with produce distribution, helped plan ESL lessons, and will be spending the rest of the summer with their youth camp.

I chose this photo in part because I knew I couldn’t represent AFAHO through just one of their programs. There is so much that they do to serve immigrant and refugee families here in Philadelphia. Instead, my hope was to highlight the impact of community-based organizations like them. I was able to see this early on at the ESL celebration, when the instructors spoke about the dedication and progress of each student over the course of the program. As she held her certificate, one student shared that she felt empowered to “do it all” with the digital literacy skills she gained. AFAHO serves a population that currently falls through the cracks of our existing public infrastructure while giving them the tools to flourish. This is why our policymakers, public health officials, and leaders must continue to invest in these kinds of efforts.

Nestled in the corner of the staff breakroom lies an unsuspecting purple bookshelf with spiraling edges and a seemingly random assortment of toys. However, an oblivious passerby doesn’t know the significance behind this bookshelf and its accompanying table. One of the downfalls of the American education system is its severe lack of financial literacy content within the curriculum. Throughout many bright students’ academic careers, the only money-related education they get is what they can source from the internet or experience through trial by fire. For the kids aged 6-11 attending the Smith Memorial Playground summer camp, through which they could only qualify by meeting income restrictions, we have sought to satisfy this deficiency for those who are most vulnerable. 

Given a fanny pack to decorate on the first day to hold their cash, assigned jobs, paid rent and bills, and even earned positive behavior bonuses, the campers have become deeply entrenched and excited about the blossoming Smith Economy. With several lectures and play-based activities per week regarding financial topics such as needs and wants, making goals, saving, and more, Smith campers are being exposed to early intervention that will hopefully lead to a lifetime of positive spending habits. Already, campers have been exposed to the trap of impulse spending, as the first trip to the camp store saw many kids quickly grabbing items off the bottom shelves to purchase, while the larger, more expensive prizes loomed above. This serves as a prime example of the first-hand learning done throughout our interactive classroom economy. 

It is our hope that this photo, and the entire Smith Economy experience, will inspire future summer camps, classrooms, or households to consider the importance of early financial literacy education. Teaching kids about why little green pieces of paper are so valuable does not have to be a boring lecture series, rather it can be an interactive environment where kids are immersed in their learning through decision-making and working towards the acquisition of valuable prizes.  

At first glance, this photo seems to simply show a circle of chairs set up before a grief therapy session at Mothers In Charge. However, this is not an ordinary grief support group. The women who occupy chairs are mothers whose children have been murdered because of community violence. Each chair represents so much more than just a place to sit. To me, the black chairs represent the sorrow these mothers carry every day. Although every mother's story is different, they all come together because they understand a type of loss that very few people can truly relate to. This is a space where they share feelings, memories, and experiences that many have never shared with anyone else. The circle is important because everyone is equal. There is no front of the room, only a place where every mother is heard and supported. 

One detail that may seem small but carries a lot of meaning is the tissues placed in the middle of the circle. They are intentionally kept in the center instead of being handed to someone individually. This allows each mother to decide for herself when she needs them. Giving someone a single tissue can unintentionally send the message that it is time to stop crying or move on. By placing the entire box in the center, the mothers are free to grieve however they need to and for as long as they need to. 

What this photo does not show are the heartbreaking stories behind each chair. It does not show the sons and daughters whose lives were taken by violence, the birthdays and milestones that will never be celebrated, or the pain these mothers carry long after they leave this room. It also does not show how few long-term resources exist for families after a homicide, leaving many to navigate unimaginable grief on their own. 

This photo represents more than a grief therapy group. It represents the lasting impact of community violence on families. I hope it helps decision makers recognize that preventing violence is only part of the solution. We must also invest in organizations like Mothers In Charge that provide long-term, trauma-informed support for families who have experienced unimaginable loss. Every homicide affects far more than one victim, and every family deserves a place where they can share their grief, find support, and know they are not alone.

The photo I decided to choose for the Journal Project depicts a slideshow I worked on and presented on Thursday, July 16, 2026. In this slideshow, I talked about topics relating to hair and nails. For the topic of hair, I had defined what hair maintenance means, explained different types of hair care routines that people adopt and the plethora of hairstyles that people utilize, and incorporated two activities: creating hairstyles on mannequins and watching the YouTube animated video, Hair Love. In regards to nails, I discussed why people get their nails done, importance of keeping the nails clean, and the various styles of nails that people get. The purpose of this lesson was to remind the students about why it is important to take care of themselves. In addition, this slideshow provides information about how they can implement both hair and nail care in their lives and people they know around them.

I chose this photo because it exemplifies the work that both Sarah and I put in. Since week two, we have been tasked with teaching STEM, uterine health, and self-care to the young girls. The overall experience of creating these lessons was enjoyable since it allowed me to fully express my creative abilities; nonetheless, there were instances when I became concerned. Mainly, I was worried that the lessons would bore the kids. In addition, I struggled to explain complex topics, such as how the eyes let people see, in a way that the children could understand. However, after each lesson, Sarah and I checked up with each student, and they generally had no complaints.

What this photo does not show is the various hands-on activities incorporated into lessons that helped cultivate interpersonal relationships. One activity the students did was build their own sundae where the students had to utilize recipes in order to create their own individualized desert. A second activity we did was creating a lamp which can be used as a night light or a small desk lamp for reading. A final activity was going to see the movie, Moana. Afterwards we discussed the wrong doings of Maui along with the lesson that past actions do not define the future of someone's life.

While this specific photo doesn't display structural issues, I will say one structural issue my organization faces is the building’s infrastructure may not withstand harsh weather. Before coming into the site, unfortunately a flood occurred in the building, causing some damage to some of the supplies.

During my internship with the Penn Medicine Social Needs Response Team (SNRT), transportation has been one of the most common barriers patients face when trying to access healthcare. I chose this photo of an empty bike rack because it represents how something as simple as transportation can determine whether someone is able to attend a medical appointment.

Many patients I have spoken with report missing appointments because they do not have reliable transportation. While shared bikes and public transportation can help fill this gap, these options are not always available when patients need them. An empty bike rack may seem insignificant at first glance, but for someone relying on that bike to get to a clinic, it can mean a missed appointment, delayed treatment, or worsening health.

Through my work with SNRT, I have helped connect patients with transportation programs such as the Medical Assistance Transportation Program (MATP) and insurance-sponsored non-emergency medical transportation. However, I have also learned that transportation barriers are often only one piece of a much larger picture. Many of the same patients also struggle with food insecurity, medication costs, and financial hardship. These challenges frequently overlap, making it more difficult for patients to prioritize their health.

This image reflects a larger structural issue within healthcare. Good medical care alone is not enough if patients cannot physically reach it. Access to transportation is a social determinant of health that directly influences whether people receive preventive care, follow-up appointments, and ongoing treatment. Addressing these barriers through resource navigation and community partnerships is an essential part of improving health outcomes.

I hope this image reminds viewers that healthcare begins long before a patient enters a clinic. Sometimes, improving health starts with something as basic as ensuring a person has a reliable way to get there.

Mother’s In Charge is an organization that confronts violence and its impact in the community through prevention, intervention, and education. Dr. Dorothy Johnson-Speight co-founded MIC following the shattering loss of her son to gun violence. This image shows a quilt commemorating important moments and milestones in the organization’s 20-plus years supporting victims of gun violence and their families. As you take in this image, zoom in. And as you scan the image, don’t just read the headlines and admire the artistic composition; give attention to the faces, the emotions, the body language. Notice the urgency and determination of Dr. Johnson-Speight as she advocates on behalf of her deceased son and another young man killed by the same perpetrator. Sit with the heartbreak captured in the photos. Witness women coalition-building through tragedy, helping each other find a way to continue living, and working for a safer city for our children.  

At the Mothers In Charge office, visitors can meet one-on-one with staff for support or engage in group grief sessions. The quilt, which hangs on the wall behind the waiting area of the entryway, warmly welcomes visitors to the organization and gives people a sense of Mothers In Charge’s history of advocacy and impact. 

In this photo, titled Strides Towards a Hopeful Future, the Students Run Philly Style (SRPS) MileUp youth diversion program is the focus. MileUp is a 12-week initiative in which students who have been involved in the juvenile justice system are paired with a mentor and train to run a half or full marathon. Upon successful completion of the program, students have the opportunity to clear their records and have a fresh start, supported by meaningful mentorship and a dedicated community. Although this photo doesn’t show the 138 students who have been impacted by the program thus far, it represents the hope and resilience of young people in our community who deserve an opportunity to learn, grow, and move forward from past hardships. This photo represents far more than a running program – it reflects the deeper mission of Students Run Philly Style. Training for a marathon teaches perseverance, discipline, consistency, and the belief that meaningful goals are built step-by-step. At SRPS, running serves as a catalyst for mentorship, belonging, accountability, resilience, and goal-setting.  

In the background of the photo, boxes of running shoes and essential athletic equipment are visible. On one hand, they symbolize the resources that  SRPS provides for its students; what is not visible, however, are the many structural barriers and access challenges these students face. Many students face limited access to healthcare, transportation, safe spaces for physical activity, and basic athletic resources. To address these barriers, SRPS works tirelessly to provide transportation to practices and events, vouchers for free sports physicals, guidance on accessing healthcare services, and running shoes and athletic apparel so every student has the opportunity to participate and succeed. Beyond these barriers lie systemic inequalities, with many students coming from communities affected by poverty, underfunded schools, neighborhood violence, and more. By addressing social determinants of health, SRPS helps to improve both physical and mental well-being while reducing barriers that contribute to poorer health outcomes. 

I hope that this photo encourages policymakers, educators, healthcare professionals, and community leaders to support youth mentorship, diversion programs, accessible recreation, and community-based organizations. Young people are the future leaders who will shape our communities, influence public policy, and build a more equitable future. Supporting these initiatives goes far beyond an investment in athletics– it is an investment in second chances, healthier communities, and a future where every young person has the opportunity to reach their full potential. Step by step and mile by mile, we can make strides towards a more hopeful future. 

This photo of the Covenant House graduation celebration shows a core part of its mission that is easily overlooked by community partners - joy. Covenant House is built on a strength-based philosophy where youth are celebrated and unconditionally supported. They face circumstantial challenges that make it difficult for them to fully engage in the events milestones typical of young adulthood. While my work this summer has been to support the youth both through the medical clinic and holistically, my favorite part of being at Covenant House has been being able to celebrate youth and encourage them as they continue forward in their journeys.

My photo shows a graduation party that Covenant House threw for the entire shelter to celebrate the high school and college graduations of some of the youth. It was special to see the youth recognized for this achievement, and there was a lot of joy in the room throughout this event. There was cake, water ice, cookies, music, and awards. In the clinic setting, we often see youth recount difficult experiences or ask about health concerns. This is a professional setting, so they’re a little more guarded. But in the cafeteria during the graduation celebration, they were clapping and laughing with each other.

Many of the challenges that these youth face are due to broken systems and trauma that they’ve experienced. A common route to Covenant House is through the foster care system, as youth are sometimes kicked out when they turn 18 without the resources they need to be able to support themselves. Many youth also come from medically and educationally underserved areas, and this creates barriers such as illiteracy, lack of health insurance, or limited access to quality healthcare.

As community partners, I think it’s easy to fall into a routine of only seeing the "deficiencies.” After all, we are here to address some of the unmet needs both in terms of healthcare and social services. However, moments like this graduation party are reminders that these youth have lives outside of Covenant House. They have friends, hobbies, school, work, and other things that bring them joy and fulfillment. Graduating from high school or college is also a testament to their resilience. I’ve been incredibly disheartened to hear some of the experiences that these youth have lived. Yet, these residents continue to challenge themselves and accomplish things that propel them toward the futures that they are working hard to create.

In Philadelphia, we pass by these multiple times a day. While it may seem like simply a bus stop, it actually means much more for many patients. Missing one bus could mean missing a medical appointment and paying no-show fees. Specialist appointments could require multiple bus transfers. Many patients with disabilities or chronic illnesses face difficulties accessing and using public transit.

Working on the Social Needs Response Team, we help patients of all walks of life who are struggling with a particular social need. Although transportation is just one of the many challenges we encounter, it is often the difference between being able to receive medical care and medications and missing an appointment. At my site, I have learned that many patients want to prioritize their health, but systemic barriers outside of the clinics make doing so very difficult. Taking off work an hour prior to an appointment in case of public transit difficulties is often frowned upon in a workplace, but something that many Philadelphia residents have to do. Even programs like Modivcare have many barriers to access, including the use of a cell phone and the time to call ahead to make appointments. Patients must receive a medical necessity form to use Modivcare—something that can actually be quite difficult to obtain. These medical transportation programs sound great in theory, but often are quite difficult to actually use.

While this photograph only shows a bus stop, there are greater challenges that aren’t shown. It doesn’t show the patients taking off work for an appointment, anxiously checking the bus schedules, and weighing the options of a cancellation fee and rideshare. It doesn’t show patients standing in the blazing summer heat or the bitter winter air, desperately waiting for the bus to show up so that they can address their basic medical needs.

One of my main projects through SNRT this summer was to create a comprehensive sheet of medical transportation options for citizens of Philadelphia, New Jersey, and more. Throughout this process, I’ve learned that transportation is more than just a convenience. It is actually a social determinant of health. I urge decision-makers to recognize the importance of reliable public transportation and expanded medical transportation programs. Above all, I urge decision-makers to invest in partnerships between healthcare systems and community organizations to better our city’s health outcomes. The health of a patient doesn’t solely begin when they are seen in a clinic, but it actually can begin at a bus stop.

The picture that I have chosen for this project depicts one of many donations my site has received of fresh, organic fruits that are provided at the Black Farmer’s Market. My site puts on the Black Farmer’s Market every two weeks in their community garden, and one of the major aspects of the market is to provide fresh produce to the surrounding community. The market is incredibly accessible because my site merely asks shoppers to donate whatever they can to the market, but items are not priced. What this photo does not show is how this access to organic fruit is a rarity in the surrounding area around the community garden. This market, as incredible as it is, only takes place every two weeks. As an intern, one of the projects I have been tasked with is to survey the surrounding area to highlight the places to buy healthy food and produce in the area. After completing this audit, it was evident that the community garden and Black Farmer’s Market are some of few places in the entire neighborhood that offers fresh and healthy food. Although the donation of fruit pictured is an important effort to get fresh fruit to the community, it is obviously not enough to support the community as a whole. The structural issues behind this photo are the intentionality of city planners and governments in allocating resources, like healthy food, differently in neighborhoods depending on the demographics of the neighborhood. I would use this photo to encourage decision makers to consider how they would feel having to rely on a few stores that might be far away from their home or having to wait for a market every two weeks when they wanted access to healthy food. Decision makers should be investing in and funding the community sites that are committed to distributing healthy food in areas that do not have access to these resources, so that these resources are not a rarity. 

This image shows a sign displayed in one of Deeply Rooted’s miniparks, surrounded by blooming flowers and plants that were planted the previous year. Although it looks like a simple garden, it reflects the power of community-led investments in neighborhoods that have historically been denied access to healthy, thriving environments. What this image does not show is the history behind why spaces like this are needed. Decades of redlining, discriminatory housing policies, and disinvestment disproportionately affected neighborhoods with large populations of people of color. These policies restricted access to mortgages and financial resources, making it difficult for residents to maintain homes, businesses, and public spaces. Over time, these neighborhoods experienced fewer public services, leading to deteriorating infrastructure, such as vacant lots, and significantly less tree canopy and green space. The health consequences of this structural racism continue today and contribute to higher rates of chronic disease, poorer mental health, and reduced quality of life.  

Deeply Rooted’s miniparks are a way that communities are reclaiming these spaces. Each minipark is designed collaboratively with residents through a shared leadership model to reflect the needs and priorities of the surrounding neighborhood. A minipark can be a place for children to play, a space for growing food, or a communal space for people to gather and enjoy nature.  Research has shown that greening vacant lots is associated with reduced gun violence, improved mental health, and more connected neighborhoods. This shows how investments in the environment are also investments in public health. I hope this photograph encourages decision-makers to recognize that green spaces are essential infrastructure that support the health, safety, and well-being of residents. Investing in community-led greening initiatives means investing in people’s health. This image demonstrates how equitable urban planning can help repair the effects of historical injustice and create healthier, more connected neighborhoods.

“Congratulations” is a word I used frequently over these past few weeks at Covenant House. Whether it be youth successfully passing interviews for a new job, getting the apartment so long awaited for, or even finally obtaining glasses they needed in order to see, there were far more “congratulations” I said and heard than I ever expected while working here. This photo in particular is from a party we had for youth graduating from their schooling. There were buckets of different flavored water ice, balloons, an assortment of desserts and snacks, and music filling our cafeteria. More importantly, the graduating youth were celebrated, each called up by name and presented an award. It was a joyous, laughter-filled occasion that centered and uplifted every individual, and more importantly for me, a reminder that these moments of celebration are what Covenant House strives to create and sustain with their mission of “unconditional love, absolute respect, and relentless support”.

What this photo does not show is the behind-the-scenes of how these celebrations came to be and why they are so meaningful. The system we currently live in makes these “congratulations” less frequent than they should be. Perpetuation of racist policies, criminalization of the poor, and a general historical premise of empowering the already powerful continue to permeate our society today, preventing the demise of generational trauma. Even as I attempt to help youth access resources that exist to help, these systems put in place make it difficult and winding for someone to actually receive the help they need. For decades, courageous members of the community have tried and are chipping away at these deep-rooted structural issues, and for that there is hope. However, there must be more decision makers who are also doing the same, serving as the frontlines for the work these people are navigating largely on their own. 

Amidst challenges, youth at Covenant House are resilient, loving, and brave. They are individuals with distinctive dreams and aspirations. They have hilariously different personalities that highlight the unique strengths each of them have. They celebrate their highs and grieve their lows as they come. Covenant House gives me hope for a future where all youth can experience celebration after celebration and reminds me that even the seemingly smallest occasion for "congratulations" serves to be a powerful moment for all.

This is an image of a 3rd grade student’s worksheet from our emotion management lesson. Students were taught to conceptualize big and small feelings in the context of a thermometer, and they color coded each zone of the thermometer going from cool (relaxed emotions) to hot (intense emotions). They then wrote a few words in each zone to give examples of emotions that would come up in those zones. Finally, they wrote two coping skills that could be used to self-regulate when in the red and orange zones. 

The photo shows a level of literacy below the student’s grade level, as words like “happy” and “with” are spelled wrong, but it does not show the amount of time the student put into coming up with thoughtful pictures and words. Someone might think just from looking at the worksheet that he was simply not trying which is why there were many spelling errors. However, he asked staff and his classmates several times for help with spelling, and he was one of the last ones to finish the worksheet because he was spending extra time adding facial patterns to each thermometer zone which clearly demonstrates that he cared about the assignment but was performing at a low literacy level because of the larger structural issue in the Philadelphia region. 

Many students fall below the target literacy level because of economic challenges. Several of them have parents who work multiple jobs for financial security and cannot teach their children at home, while students with developmental differences might not have their learning needs met because the extra support is cost prohibitive. Through a strengths-based perspective though, it can be seen that the student has a clear talent for creativity and artistic ability which needs to be celebrated. The hope is that this photo urges decision makers to consider the effects of an upbringing in an inherently low-income area on their education and future opportunity, as these children clearly have high potential but are sat back by the system.

This photo shows my BTG partner, Mariam, handing a plate of lunch to a day camper – ramen noodles, meatballs, bread, and apple slices.

This was one handoff of about 60 that lunch period, where the kids were able to make their selections, which were predominantly carbohydrates. The options Old Pine Community Center has to provide are limited; all the food brought into the building comes through Philabundance or private donations. Fresh vegetables or alternate proteins aren’t available, and the meals often come out in shades of brown. While this can come off as a nutritional disappointment, there are questions asked that lead to the synthesis of these meals: what do we have at our disposal? What food can we prepare in a small kitchen to feed dozens of children? If presented to them, will these kids willingly eat it?

This is only a fraction of the work we do with food here; the other half of the time we spend in the kitchen is preparing meals for other community organizations. We prepare meals for Puentes de Salud and Depaul USA, including sandwiches, casseroles, and stews. We are less limited by the tastes of our indirect clients, as their maturity is expected to forego their pickiness, but we still can only work with what is provided to us.

The final arm of our food-related work here occurs at the front of the center, where we store and sort our palettes worth of donated food. Most goes towards grocery bagging that community groups come in later in the day to participate in, or we do ourselves; between the two of us, we are asked to prepare 150 bags at a time. These often provide less processed ingredients as the recipients are expected to cook and fill in the blanks themselves; still, fresh fruits, vegetables, and proteins are left out of this mix.

These complaints about nutrition aren’t a criticism of OPCC, Philabundance, or any contributor; it’s a byproduct of the systems that enable food charity to be a necessity. Prepackaged processed foods are not the ideal thing for people to be eating all the time, yet they tend to be the safest and only legally permitted option for food drives. Often, considerations for balanced nutrition are shelved as secondary in importance to being fed at all; while this is fair and there are reasons for its existence, it begs the age-old question of “why do we need to accept things the way they are?” Do we need to settle for feeding our most vulnerable populations damaged or near-forgotten food? How do we look towards organizations like Broad Street Love and their partner, Carversville Farm Foundation, as inspiration for what food we can give to our community? I hope this photo will inspire us to recognize food as not only a necessity to life, but as a key facet to our health, and the quality of which as something we need to consider for all, not just those who can afford the produce.

The American Heart Association and Breathe Free PA aim to stop smoking inside casinos to protect the health of casino workers that are victims of secondhand smoke. This summer, we have been working with the American Heart Association and the Nonsmoker Rights Foundation to compile a database of political candidates running in Pennsylvania and their contact information so that staff from these organizations can contact these decision makers regarding workplace smoke-free policies.

At first glance, this photo depicts a man smoking a cigarette in front of a vehicle. You can see a lit cigarette with plumes of smoke going up in front of a police vehicle with its red siren glow illuminating the man’s body. Seeing someone standing outside smoking may seem like an ordinary everyday observation, but it does not take away from the fact that smoking itself has dangerous health outcomes to the smoker themselves and those around them.

While this may seem like a simple scene, there was more to it than the photo shows; for example, the on-duty transit police officer standing a couple feet behind this man directly upwind of his cigarette’s smoke plumes or the family with 3 young children waiting for their bus back home after a long day of travel. Another missing detail is the Air Quality Index being 189; the particulate matter in the air was already so dangerously elevated due to the wildfires, and individuals like cops and travellers who spent majority of their day outside have already been negatively affected against their will. To then also be in close proximity to yet another pollutant like secondhand cigarette smoke only worsens their health. However, unlike wildfire smoke exposure, secondhand cigarette smoke exposure is entirely preventable through comprehensive smoke-free policies.

The structural issues behind this photo extend beyond one individual’s decision to smoke; they reflect gaps in public health policy that continue to devastate people, families, and communities. When smoke-free legislation is inconsistently prioritized across each changing political administration, or contain exemptions that still allow smoking in some indoor spaces, or fail to protect individuals in public spaces that receive heavy traffic, the health of nonsmokers both young and old is compromised due to entirely preventable involuntary exposure. No one should have to choose between earning a living, waiting for their transportation, or simply being in a public space and their own health.

While reports like the MAHA report outline the nation’s health improvement goals, decision makers need to understand that the largest impacts on smoking cessation and improving health outcomes include changing the context to make individuals’ default decisions healthy by implementing and changing smoke-free laws to eliminate loopholes and exemptions. I would like this photo to educate and inform decision makers that exposure to secondhand smoke is not only a personal choice issue, but also one regarding public health policy. Everyone deserves to breathe clean air, so I hope this photo can remind decision makers that the power to protect the health of countless individuals is in their hands.

Harvesting is a crucial part of the production phase in a food system, and at Sankofa Community Garden, Thursdays are our harvest days. Depending on what is in season, produce gets harvested, weighed, cleaned, and stored, ready for market on Fridays and Saturdays. Like the picture below shows, the harvests are usually colorful and bountiful, needing nothing more than a quick rinse with a hose since no pesticides or herbicides are used in the garden. Unlike weeding days, harvest days are usually everyone's favorite.

What this picture does not depict is how ethical harvesting, and farming in general, is a privilege. At Sankofa, reconnecting with the land is one of our clearly delineated missions, and the summer youth staff are supported and compensated throughout the program for doing that work. In reconnecting with the land, they get to acknowledge all the injustices, past and present, that were committed on and witnessed by this land. We discuss how the labor of enslaved people was used to fuel this country for decades, how immigrant labor is responsible for a lot of the food on our tables today, and how we might begin to bridge the gaps of food insecurity in the modern age by giving communities back their access to land, knowledge, and ownership over how their food is grown.

Even though many of the summer youth staff have ancestors who were enslaved farmers, many of them have grown up disconnected from their foodways. Structurally, this traces back to historical practices like blockbusting and redlining, which forced disenfranchised black people into neighborhoods that were then systematically disinvested in. A couple generations of this produced food swamps and deserts, extreme poverty, crime, and generational trauma, all of which ultimately disconnected many city folk from their food ways. That disconnection did not happen by accident, and reconnecting these young people with the land at Sankofa is one small way of undoing some of that harm.

When I took this photo, I hoped to capture a moment of deep satisfaction, and for several reasons. I was happy to be privileged enough to participate in ethical farming. I was happy that the food we grew was destined to feed community members of Southwest Philadelphia. And I was happy that the soil provided so abundantly.

This is a photo of the various sheets that Puentes de Salud providers use during their visits with patients. This hangs on the back of the door in every room in the clinic, and is a good representation of the various aspects of the work being done there. Puentes de Salud was founded in 2002 as a small one room clinic. They started from nothing, and just had the goal of taking care of a vulnerable population that needed help. Now, 24 years later, Puentes has grown to become a multidisciplinary non-profit with a clinic, food pharmacy, a community health workers program, an education department, behavioral health, and various support groups. Every day, Puentes is full of people from all different backgrounds, who are all working towards the same goal of serving their community.

This photo gives the viewer a glimpse into the roles of the many people who work at Puentes de Salud. The diversity of the team at Puentes is also representative of my experience there this summer. I have been volunteering at Puentes for about a year now, but as a medical student passing through, I had never gotten the chance to fully understand the scope of what is being done there. Now, I truly feel like a part of the team, and I have been involved in almost every aspect of the clinic.

I believe that the model of Puentes de Salud is an incredible example for other non-profits who want to build an interdisciplinary community center that addresses the social determinants of health from several different angles. This type of impact cannot be made overnight, and requires years and years of dedication from people who are willing to show up and do the work every single day. Often, it feels like the academic perspective focuses on identifying a problem or a gap, which is obviously important, but from Puentes de Salud I have seen in action what it means to actually do something about it.

This is a photo of my computer after taking a patient call. My tabs are filled with just a few of the organizations, resources, and websites that we use at the Penn Medicine Social Needs Response Team. Although I opened some of these resources just to take this picture, this photo is not exaggerated. Many of the patients we encounter every day at SNRT face numerous socioeconomic barriers, including limited access to healthcare, food insecurity, unreliable transportation, and financial distress, often all at once. While on the phone with these patients, each of these open tabs represents another attempt to help meet one of their basic human needs.

It is great that all of these resources exist; however, each agency and website has drastically different eligibility requirements and applications, making their services difficult to access. What this image fails to depict is all the time, follow-up, and frustration behind each open tab. It does not show the person who spent months trying to find a new caregiver, the individual who has spent hours being transferred between insurance representatives and pharmacies trying unsuccessfully to obtain needed medication, or the older adult who just wants to get to a medical appointment but has no one to help.

I have learned so much throughout my placement at SNRT thus far, and still, I just barely understand how to navigate the ins and outs of all these systems. As I have worked with SNRT, I have seen one main structural issue: our healthcare and social work systems are fragmented. Philadelphia offers numerous amazing programs to support its residents, but it lacks services that help people access those programs. Accessing these programs requires digital literacy, transportation, and significant time. Many of the patients I talk to do not have these things, which can cause them to quickly become overwhelmed, delay care, or miss out on benefits that they qualify for.

While I am glad to be able to help connect our fragmented healthcare system in small ways through my work with SNRT, what we really need is improved coordination between healthcare systems, community organizations, and policymakers. Improving health is not just about expanding the number of programs available. It is also about making those programs easier to find, understand, and access. One way to begin doing this is by providing more training for healthcare professionals on the social resources available to their patients so that communication between these community organizations and the healthcare system can be better coordinated. I appreciate the opportunity to be trained on these resources as a future nurse, and hope that more nurses have the chance to do the same.

For my photo journal project, I chose a picture I had taken during our first week at Sankofa's Community Farm. During this week we were able to get introduced to what we would be doing and getting familiar with the farm. We learned very simple tasks that came with taking care of the farm, like weeding and harvesting, and in this picture, we had been tasked with filling up as many quarts with raspberries that would later be sold during a market on the weekends. What it doesn’t show is the amount of work that goes into planting, harvesting, and tending to the land. During these past few weeks at Sankofa, we got to see and experience the passion and time the staff have for their craft and for the community that surrounds them. These raspberries that we had harvested were only going to be ready for 2 weeks, but the amount of time and dedication it must have taken to not only grow three different varities of raspberries but for how much they grew and were able to harvest truly fascinated me.

As we continued to be more involved in the work, my respect for the years of work that has been put into the farm only increased more and each day. Each week that we came back I was eager to not only learn more about the farm and the teachings, but the staff made the experience much more memorable.

But what this picture doesn’t show is the hardships faced on the farm and its surrounding community due to climate change. From the scorching hot days to the terrible floods, it would affect how long we were allowed to be outside to work and what was able to be harvested for the day. Since what we harvest is later sold during the markets on the weekends, people in the community depend on the produce. When there isn’t much to sell or weather conditions to make it difficult for plants to thrive, it affects the ability for people to access fresh produce in a community that already faces a high prevalence of food insecurity. With this photo, I hope that it can educate and impact decision makers when it comes to the issue of climate change and food sovereignty, that by making the right choices to protect our land and care for it, it repays us and can allow communities to thrive.

At Smith Memorial Playground, kids from around the world come to engage in unstructured play at one of the nation’s first playgrounds. During the summer, however, the space is home not only to these thousands of visitors, but to 30 kids from the playground’s backyard: Philadelphia.

Summer@Smith is a free summer camp, funded by the city, for children living below the poverty line. And yet, the camp looks for all the world like any other summer camp. The kids take field trips to Legoland and museums; They read books and watch movies; They play outside and have dance parties; They fight over toys and laugh at their counselors. 

Between all the fun, are lessons, both informal and formal. As they run around the playground, we teach them to tie their shoes, use their words, and keep their hands to themselves. We also sit in the classroom together and learn about history, literature, and economics -- filling in knowledge gaps and fending off the omnipresent summer slide. 

In economics, our kids learn about how economies run, how to make and save money, and how to budget. The classroom topic the day this photo was taken was differentiating between needs and wants. The boy whose hands you see in the photo is drawing a table: the crooked purple line differentiating between things he needs and things he wants. His innocence creeps into view as Sonic the Hedgehog slides into the needs column. Sonic, as it so happens, is this camper’s favorite character and drawings nearly identical to this one have shown up on every paper he has submitted this summer. He has tried to spell “needs” twice and neither time quite managed to get the correct number of Es in.

The rest of the drawing appears normal. His needs include housing, clothes, food, and water. His wants are treats, toys, and art supplies. From the looks of it, he learned the lesson he was taught: 1) differentiate between the things you need and the things you want and then 2) budget to make sure you can afford the things you need, using any money leftover to buy the things you want. What the purple crayon fails to capture is that this kid’s family can’t afford the things in either column. 

He runs to camp each morning, his little legs moving as fast as they can carry him. His first words are about breakfast. He wonders how many minutes until we eat. He asks for seconds and thirds, sometimes fourths. A few hours of play and then questions about lunch. He asks for seconds and thirds, sometimes fourths. When it is time to leave, he asks for leftover lunch or breakfast. One day he took all our extra milk cartons -- there was no milk at home. He packs up whatever we give him and runs back to his house. 

I wonder how much you can learn about needs versus wants, about anything really, when you’re that hungry; when you've become that used to not having your needs met. I wonder how he smiles everyday; how his laugh still echoes between the walls of the camp. I wonder how we let this happen; how we let children go hungry. I wonder what he does on the weekends. I wonder what his mom eats. I wonder what he will do between camp and the start of school. I wonder what I can do. I’m not sure I know.

But I greet him with a smile each morning. Teach him how to tie his shoes. Teach him how to keep his hands to himself. Teach him how to sound out big words. Teach him how to make a paper airplane.

And I hope that any of it makes a difference. 

At first glance, this photograph looks so simple, a teacher gently holding the hand of a child with cerebral palsy while helping him paint a World Cup jersey. The focus is not on the artwork itself, but on the connection between the teacher and student. The teacher's hand shows stability while the child remains actively involved in the painting process and rather than completing the task for him, the teacher supports him in a way that allows him to participate, create, and express himself. This image shows the mission of HMS School for Children with Cerebral Palsy, which is not to define children by their disabilities, but to empower them to explore their interests and abilities without limitations.

What makes this image especially meaningful is the symbol being painted. The World Cup is one of the few events that transcends borders, languages, cultures, and backgrounds. Children around the world share the excitement of cheering for their favorite teams, wearing jerseys, and celebrating the sport and by incorporating the World Cup into classroom activities, the school reminds students that they are part of that same global community. Their diagnosis does not separate them from the experiences that bring people together, and their passions, creativity, and excitement are just as valid as anyone else's.

However, this photograph does not tell the entire story, it does not show the years of physical, occupational, and speech therapy many students require before they can participate in activities like this. It doesn’t reveal the countless hours teachers spend adapting lessons, creating accessible materials, or learning individualized teaching strategies so every child can succeed. It also doesn’t show the emotional and financial challenges many families face while navigating complex healthcare systems, specialized education, transportation, and ongoing medical care. What appears to be a simple painting activity actually represents years of dedication from families, educators, therapists, and an organization committed to giving every child an opportunity to thrive.

Furthermore, the structural issues behind this image extend beyond the classroom. Children with cerebral palsy often encounter barriers that have little to do with their abilities and everything to do with accessibility. Limited resources, unequal access to specialized services, financial burdens, and the huge misconceptions about disability can prevent children from participating fully in education and community life. Organizations like HMS School for Children with Cerebral Palsy work to remove those barriers by creating an environment where differences are accommodated rather than viewed as obstacles. Their mission demonstrates that inclusion is not simply allowing children to be present, but it is ensuring they can actively participate and succeed.

I hope this photograph encourages decision makers to recognize the value of investing in specialized schools, adaptive educational programs, and services for children with disabilities. Supporting these organizations means giving children the opportunity to discover their talents, pursue their interests, and experience the same moments of joy that every child deserves. This image serves as a reminder that disability does not define potential and with the right support, patience, and opportunities, there truly are no boundaries to what these children can achieve.

This is an image taken a few weeks back as my fellow intern and I were looking at Google Maps, attempting to determine how accessible the Gayborhood is for JCAA residents.  JCAA is an LBGT friendly apartment complex for seniors, and it is right in the heart of this iconic neighborhood. When we visited a few weeks back, it was immediately apparent that there were significant issues with accessibility. It is important to note that when we visited, we arrived right after one of the recent storms. There was a massive puddle connecting these two sidewalks and assorted leaves and branches littering the ground. Despite this, we also noticed that while there was a wheelchair ramp on one side, there was no other on the opposite side of the road.  Additionally, there are a variety of potholes—not uncommon for Philadelphia—but  disheartening to see this immediately next to a senior living apartment building. My fellow intern and I were both appalled by this clear lack of consideration.

We were particularly upset given the emphasis of equity among the queer community, yet the blatant disregard of ability and age status left us shocked. LGBTQ spaces typically attempt to prioritize the needs of all community members, but this was just another example of how queer elders, specifically those who require mobility aids, are cast aside. Even things as small as reinvesting in creating more accessible sidewalks in the Gayborhood increases people’s sense of belonging, especially in queer spaces. 

Young, queer individuals are constantly looking for ways to give back to the elder generation, and my fellow intern and I believe that tangible practices such as calling your local elected officials to make the Gayborhood a more accessible space is an excellent first step. We hope that this neighborhood is reprioritized as a space for individuals who hold a plethora of different identities, but particularly for elders.

At first glance, the picture shows the Cira Centre on the corner of JFK Blvd and overlooking the 30th street train station. We went to the Nafees Lab on the last day of camp to introduce them to some benchtop lab work. Mr. Nafees was the first Black man in North America to get his Masters in Biopharmaceutical Process Engineering, and he grew up in North Philly. He does a lot of STEM/engineering workshops for kids of all ages, adults, schools, and other events to introduce and inspire the amazement of science in everyone.  

What this photo does not show are the structural barriers that made this experience feel so extraordinary. It does not show the underfunded schools, the lack of STEM enrichment opportunities, the transportation and financial barriers, or the absence of mentors that make careers in science seem unattainable. It also doesn't show how close these opportunities physically are. These kids live on the doorstep of some of America’s oldest and most prestigious universities, yet many have not been given a reason to believe those opportunities are meant for them. It serves as a reminder that geographic proximity does not guarantee equitable access to educational opportunities.  

Being able to walk through a professional research lab, put on a lab coat, handle equipment, and perform a simple experiment gave them a glimpse into a world that many of them had never been exposed to. The kids had a million different questions, looked for help in each other, in us, and in Dr. Nafees. It reminded me that curiosity is almost never the limiting factor. It also brings up a common conversation in our social landscape about how important representation is. If you have never met a scientist, visited a research lab, or had someone tell you that you belong in spaces like these, it becomes harder to picture yourself there. Dr. Nafees was candid about his own struggles and how far from perfect his path had been. He shared how his character and perseverance carried him further than his circumstances initially suggested they could. 

I hope this photo encourages educators, policymakers, and community leaders to invest in outreach programs that expose students to careers they may otherwise never encounter. STEM programs, art programs and afterschool activities are not luxuries, but interventions that can change how young people see themselves and what they believe is possible. To many, the Cira Centre is simply another building in Philadelphia’s skyline. To me, it represents the doors that open when access and opportunity intersect.  

As a BTG intern at Hall Mercer this summer, I have become increasingly aware of community struggles with transportation and accessibility in the greater Philadelphia area. In Hall Mercer’s Wellness Program, the clients are adults with various intellectual disabilities. I’ve noticed that clients have different levels of comfortability with SEPTA, navigating public transportation, and moving through public spaces independently. The photo I selected highlights the inaccessibility of certain public spaces, specifically the Pennsylvania Hospital Museum. Though the stairs were safe and equipped with a proper railing, many clients were not able to climb three flights of steps. The lack of elevators in the facility meant that some clients were unable to partake in the learning experience. Beyond the physical barrier, this also created an emotional challenge. Some clients were uncomfortable with heights of the upper floors and felt disappointed that they were unable to experience the same activities as others.  

The reasoning behind the absence of elevators relates to the preservation of the original structure — however, some of the Philadelphia population is now unable to access this historical site due to this decision. This reflects the societal structure around able-bodied individuals without inclusive measures for those with physical or intellectual disabilities. I have noticed that the majority of Philly infrastructure or public spaces include some form of accessibility attempt, including ramps, escalators, and elevators. One of the major things that I have learned at Hall Mercer is that accessibility is highly individualized and varies from person-to-person. There is no one-size-fits-all approach to accessibility, which is why including people with disabilities into decision making around public infrastructure is crucial. Policymakers have a responsibility to serve all citizens, including those with disabilities. An important distinction I have learned through our Wednesday lecture sessions is to never assume what someone needs; instead, you must always ask. These assumptions may perpetuate unhelpful decision-making and contribute to the dismissal of people with disabilities in society.   

I hope that this photo articulates both the importance of creating accessible spaces and the notion that accessibility cannot be assumed. Through discussion and direct engagement with individuals and communities with disabilities, decision-makers can develop more inclusive environments that promote participation, respect, and equal opportunity for everyone.  

When I first look at this photo, I don’t just see a classroom. I see the students I got to know over the past several weeks. They’re gathered together during one of our morning weather lessons, each using their own communication device to participate. The weather on the screen feels symbolic to me. Every day brings a different forecast, just as every student comes to school with different strengths, challenges, and opportunities. While we can’t control every circumstance, we can create environments where every child has the support they need to learn and succeed.

If someone had shown me this picture before my internship, I probably would have noticed the wheelchairs first. Now, they’re one of the last things I notice. I see the student who always wanted me to take them on a walk when they were having a hard day. I see kids who laughed during our sensory activities, got excited when we brought out the ducks, and proudly showed off the bags they designed for our fashion project. As the weeks went on, they remembered my name, smiled when I walked into the room, and made me feel like I was part of their routine. Watching those relationships grow has been one of the most meaningful parts of my summer, and knowing it’s coming to an end is bittersweet.

What this photo doesn’t show is everything happening behind the scenes to make this moment possible. Every communication device is customized to the student using it. Every wheelchair is carefully fitted. Every lesson is thoughtfully adapted so that each student can actively participate. It also doesn’t show the incredible team of therapists, teachers, nurses, and support staff working together every day to ensure these students have the same opportunities to learn as everyone else.

At the same time, this photo highlights larger structural issues. Access to adaptive technology, specialized education, and interdisciplinary care depends heavily on funding and resources that are not available everywhere. Too many children with disabilities still face barriers to education, healthcare, transportation, and community inclusion simply because the necessary support systems are lacking.

I hope this photograph encourages people to look beyond the equipment and see the students first. These are intelligent, funny, creative teenagers with goals, personalities, and friendships, not just diagnoses. My hope is that this image reminds educators, healthcare professionals, and policymakers that investing in accessibility is really an investment in people. Every child deserves the opportunity to learn, communicate, and build meaningful relationships, regardless of the challenges they face.

When you first look at this picture, it looks like about 100 brown bags lined up in rows, nothing too special. However, this picture actually depicts the 150 grocery bags my BTG partner and I organized for distribution for the Courtyard Apartments. The Courtyard Apartments is a low income housing unit for disabled and individuals that have come out of homelessness who may otherwise not have had the means for basic food items. Each bag here contains staple items such as flour, oats, milk, and other essential groceries. The picture appears simple, but it represents the planning, organization, and team work that went in to ensure each bag was filled accurately and each individual in need got all of the supplies they needed.

What we don’t see in this photo are the individuals whose lives are impacted by these groceries. We don’t see the families who are deciding between rent and food. We don’t see individuals skipping meals to be able to afford other basic needs, as if food is a privilege and not a necessity. We don’t see the structural issues that contribute to this big problem of food insecurity: the increased rent, wages that aren’t proportional to the increased cost of living, and unequal access to food and resources. Even though Old Pine Community Center is located in one of Philadelphia’s wealthiest cities, the surrounding communities still feature individuals and families who are faced with these challenges everyday. This photo also does not show the team work, collaboration, and effort that goes into making sure these needs are met.

Participating in this project taught me a lot about food insecurity and shifted my perspective on it. Previously, I had a dictionary definition of food insecurity in mind. I knew what it was and I understood some people experienced it. However, directly working on combating food insecurity and seeing it firsthand and working behind the scenes to resolve it, has made me gain two main new perspectives. One, it's helped me to better understand the severity of not having your basic needs met. It’s made me realize more individuals are food insecure than we may think. Secondly, it’s made me gain an appreciation for organizations, like OPCC, who work so hard behind the scenes to target these bigger issues, even if it is on a smaller scale. But it’s made me realize that it’s a systemic problem that requires a long term solution. We need policies that would improve access to healthy foods for all communities. We need to make housing more affordable, provide living wages, and make resources like access to transportation and other things more accessible and affordable. This photograph isn’t just 150 grocery bags. It’s 150 reminders that everyone deserves equal access to basic needs.

The site I work at is Philadelphia FIGHT and I was debating between multiple photos. One photo I was going to submit was an empty work chair in our clinic or another was a photo of our whiteboard depicting inspirational quotes and drawings. However, ultimately I decided to submit a photo of our waiting room. I have spent a large portion of my time at Philadelphia FIGHT in the waiting room as I have worked from the front desk. I’ve greeted many patients as they walked in and said goodbye to the same patients leaving. Personally, I felt like our waiting room was a great representation of the spirit of Philadelphia FIGHT as I believe it’s almost like the heart of our operations. Without the front desk who works from this room, appointments wouldn’t be effectively made and we would likely fall into chaos. However, more than logistical help, the front desk are the first people patients will interact with. The waiting room’s energy can set the tone of the patient’s visit. Sitting at the front desk I’ve been able to witness small but crucial interactions between the staff and patients. Our receptionists always welcomes each patient with a bright smile which is oftentimes met with just as bright of a smile. If a patient comes in frustrated or anxious our receptionists seem to always know exactly what to say to relieve the patients’ concerns. Furthermore, our staff frequently walks patients out of the clinic to the front desk after their procedures, clearly explaining home care instructions as many times as necessary. Furthermore, families and friends will wait for each other in the waiting room. Some are anxious, some tired, some excited etc. Children or cousins will sometimes play together while waiting for their turn and laughter fills the room. Ultimately, from the waiting room I have been able to witness vulnerable and sincere interactions between staff and patients, but also among patients themsleves. Previously, I was working from the back isolated from staff and patients, but since coming to the waiting room I have felt the liveliness and passion of Philadelphia FIGHT. It is clear how much each staff member is passionate about improving the quality of life for each patient. They are intentional with their work and relentless in their efforts. Constantly adapting to unforeseen circumstances and working together as a team to improve their patients oral health. Therefore, for me the empty chair in the waiting room embodies the genuine spirit of Philadelphia FIGHT and their mission they carry out each day.

This photo captures one of the central challenges of community work: How can we connect individuals struggling with illness, poverty, disability, and oppression to the resources designed to serve them?

The photo shows fliers that my co-interns and I distributed through Southwest and West Philly, including at the Haverford Avenue branch of the Free Library of Philadelphia. This library is located in Carroll Park, a predominantly Black neighborhood with many residents living below the poverty line. There, we met kind, engaged staff members who offered to include our event poster among the notices in the library windows. These staff members are some of the thousands of community leaders seeking to connect Philadelphians with free and low-cost resources to help them thrive.

While leaving the library, I took note of the various fliers in the windows advertising library summer activities, the Health and Human Service Department’s annual agenda, public transportation updates, a birding group, and a Penn Medicine study. I also noticed an elderly woman on a bench in front of the library absorbed in a phone conversation (let’s call her “Mrs. A). She held her credit card, and her cane rested on the bench beside her.

On the day of our visit, I overheard Mrs. A yelling at an automated customer service agent, desperate to speak to a real person in order to resolve an administrative problem. Entangled as she was in her own problem, she was oblivious to the posters in the library windows advertising community resources. This juxtaposition of a woman physically close but psychologically distant from the assistance available to her embodies the challenge of outreach, and the inadequacy of fliers as a means of connecting our neighbors to support.

This image embodies a question that I explored throughout my BTG internship: How can community leaders most effectively bring resources to those who need them? Organizations such as the Philadelphia Corporation for Aging provide assistance for seniors facing administrative and technological barriers, yet I found myself wondering whether Mrs. A even knew those resources existed. Had she seen a flier for their services in a library window, on a public message board, or on the bus? If so, did this unidirectional outreach leave an impact? Might Mrs. A have taken advantage of these resources if she had learned about them through another channel, such as a representative of the Philadelphia Corporation for Aging visiting her church to discuss the services available to seniors? Similarly, while doing outreach for Paruwo Sita, I questioned whether our fliers would succeed in bringing new faces to the festival. When the turnout at the event was far less than we had hoped, it reinforced my sense that passive outreach alone is insufficient.

Members of underserved communities contend with infinite demands on their attention—looming bills, unsafe housing environments, chronic health challenges, violence, and racism. Thus, the folks who would most benefit from services have the least bandwidth to seek them out. Given this context, community leaders cannot expect posters and fliers to break through the noise. We need to get creative, using relationships as leverage, whether partnering with community organizations like churches, mosques, schools, and neighborhood associations or going door-to-door to form face-to-face connections. Though this form of outreach is far more resource-intensive, it will pay dividends, multiplying the effectiveness of nonprofits and connecting people like Mrs. A to the support they need.

Like the fliers in these images, the notices in the library windows are full of opportunities. Yet opportunities only matter if they become accessible in moments of need. I hope this image encourages community organizations and policymakers to invest not only in creating resources, but also in building the trusted relationships that allow those resources to reach the people they are intended to serve. Until then, people like the woman in this photograph may remain only a few feet away from help that never truly reaches them.

This summer with Bridging the Gaps, I have been working with Students Run Philly Style, a local nonprofit that provides Philadelphia middle and high schoolers with adult mentorship with the ultimate goal of running the Broad Street 10 Miler, Philadelphia Half Marathon, or the Philadelphia Full Marathon (and the races along the way). While their goals within running highlight its benefits in physical health, the training, racing, and mentorship also work to build students’ confidence, resilience, discipline, and lifelong fulfillment through healthy lifestyle choices. Their mission extends far beyond running, working to break down barriers to participation in youth athletics and creating a supportive environment where all students are celebrated and affirmed, regardless of speed, gender identity, age, race, or any other factor.

The picture I am choosing to include depicts the storage room of the brand-new Students Run office space. This picture shows just a fraction of all the donated shoes from Brooks, which are all free of cost for students in SRPS, as well as volunteer mentors, runners who fundraise for SRPS through charity bibs, etc. This is all in effort to break down the barriers necessary for running. Running is a sport that, in theory, is very easy to participate in. Get a comfy pair of running shoes, and you’re essentially all set. However, that is not always feasible for all, especially to purchase a nice pair of shoes that will last a student for the full duration of each training period. This picture also shows storage items for both OutPace and MileUp, which are their LGBTQ youth-mentorship running programs and youth diversion programs, respectively. Both of these programs represent SRPS’s mission in intentional inclusivity and helping students reach goals that, at one point, seemed impossible.

However, this photo is not only just a small fraction of their storage room, but such a small portion of their mission entirely. It doesn’t show the executive board taking time out of their own weekends to help fit students for shoes or running with various school groups. It doesn’t show the 16,000 students that have gone through their program, or the 2,000 volunteer mentors, mostly made up of local Philadelphia teachers using their evenings off from mentoring youth to mentoring more youth! This picture doesn’t show the months of training and hundreds of miles ran by both mentors and students as young as 12, the thousands of race bibs each year, the alumni that constantly are visiting the staff in the SRPS office, the goals accomplished, and the confidence that the students are able to achieve. This photo also doesn’t show the strong relationships that our mentors are able to build with the students, often serving as one of few consistent adult mentor roles for a large proportion of the students.

At first glance, this image looks simply like any athletic storage room. However, it represents a mission and the equipment of breaking down barriers. SRPS breaks down barriers not only to physical wellness, but also to mentor relationships, confidence, discipline, and pride that our students are able to attain. I hope that this picture and narrative show a small window into the importance of youth mentorship and its lasting impact on students’ lives. I hope that it reminds decision makers that investing in youth mentorship and attainable athletic programs is too a form of public health.

This photo shows a wall at Beyond Literacy (BeLit)’s West Campus that honors the donors, sponsors, and contributors who have supported the agency through its merger, growth, and ongoing work. The painted signs and checks make visible an important part of BeLit’s story: community investment. They represent people and institutions choosing to stand behind adult learners, immigrant families, English language learners, and others seeking education as a pathway to stability and opportunity. 

At the same time, the photo does not show the full financial reality behind BeLit’s work. What is missing from the image are the federal grants that make up more than 80 percent of the agency’s funding. This absence is important because my time at BeLit has helped me understand that donations, while meaningful, are not enough to guarantee sustainable services. Community support can help an agency survive and grow, but many programs still depend on larger funding systems that are unstable, delayed, or restricted by requirements outside the agency’s control. 

I saw this directly when delayed funding led to the suspension of BeLit’s digital skills class in the new fiscal year. This was difficult to witness because digital literacy is not an optional skill for adult learners. It affects job applications, online classes, communication with schools and employers, access to benefits, and everyday participation in society. When funding is delayed, the need does not disappear. Instead, agencies must pause or adjust services, and students who already face barriers experience another disruption. 

This photo therefore represents both strength and vulnerability. It shows that BeLit has built strong relationships with donors and community partners. It also points to a structural dilemma: nonprofit organizations are often expected to respond quickly to community needs while relying on funding streams that do not always allow quick or flexible action. Agencies like BeLit are asked to be creative, responsive, and dependable, but they are not always given the stable resources needed to provide consistent support.  

At the same time, this photo also reminds me of BeLit’s resilience. Even under financial uncertainty, staff continue adapting, building partnerships, organizing resources, and finding ways to support students. The agency’s strength lies not only in its funding, but in its commitment to keep showing up for learners despite difficult conditions. 

I hope this photo could help decision makers see that adult education is not a secondary service. It is connected to employment, health, family stability, language access, and civic participation. Donations are valuable, but they cannot replace sustained public investment. If we want organizations like BeLit to serve communities consistently, funding must be reliable, timely, and flexible enough to match real needs. 

The relationship between a teacher and a student extends far beyond academics. It is shaped by trust and the ability to see oneself reflected in the classroom. This photograph captures a meaningful moment between a Black special education teacher at the HMS School for Children with Cerebral Palsy and their student, highlighting the importance of representation in education. For many students, having an educator who shares aspects of their identity can foster a greater sense of belonging, confidence, and possibility. 

After an activity-filled day, the teacher takes time in the afternoon to help the students wind down with “Sensory Time”. Working one on one, they pick activities tailored to each student's preference and interests. Here the student is using a switch adapted light up machine. When the student wants to turn on the lights, they hit a switch located near the head of their chair. The teacher sits by the student, softly encouraging him every time he uses his switch to control the light and thanking him for his continued engagement in the activity.  

Representation is especially meaningful in the context of cerebral palsy, a condition that disproportionately affects children from Black and Brown communities. While these students and their families often face barriers to accessing healthcare, early intervention, and educational resources, seeing diverse educators and staff at school sends a powerful message that they are seen, valued, and capable of success. It reminds us that accessibility is not only about physical accommodations, it is also about creating spaces where students feel that they belong by seeing people that look like them.  

The photograph also reflects the thoughtful adaptations required to support students with cerebral palsy, particularly those with Cortical Visual Impairment (CVI). 65% of all children with cerebral palsy also experience CVI. Unlike most other characteristics of Cerebral Palsy, CVI is not a condition that we can physically see and most cases are diagnosed later in the child’s life. Almost all students at HMS have a CVI diagnosis. CVI affects the way the brain processes visual information so learning materials must often be intentionally designed to maximize contrasting colors, reduce visual clutter, and accommodate each student's unique visual needs. Here the light up machine offers a strong visual target with bright saturated colors the student can focus on and isolate. Observing these instructional strategies reinforced that effective teaching goes beyond delivering our traditional educational content. It requires creativity, flexibility, and a deep understanding of how each child experiences the world. 

As I spent time in the classroom, I realized how much there is still to learn about educating children with cerebral palsy. Every student communicates, moves, and learns differently so individualized instruction is essential. This image captures more than a lesson in progress, it represents the power of inclusive education and the value of culturally representative educators. In this classroom at HMS, there is an ongoing commitment to creating learning environments where every child has the opportunity to thrive. A classroom that embraces both disability inclusion and racial and cultural diversity communicates that every part of a student's identity is recognized and celebrated. That sense of belonging can become just as powerful as any lesson taught that day. 

This photo shows Coffee Cup’s weekly programming written in Chinese on a white board, which is next to the entrance of the organization. Translated into English, the whiteboard states that everyday activities include teatime and mahjong, every Tuesday there is a choir class, and every Friday there is a Taichi class. Coffee Cup is an Asian Pacific Resource Center located within the Philadelphia Senior Center that helps older Asian immigrants with navigating American healthcare and social systems, as well as offers free lunches and health workshops. This photo shows how welcoming the organization is to Asian immigrants, as they provide activities that are tailored to their culture. Additionally, the information is written in Chinese in a large font, which highlights how they are cognizant of reducing the language barrier that comes with being an immigrant in an English-speaking country, as well as the fact that seniors need large lettering to read more easily. Due to this thoughtfulness, I think seniors who see this sign would feel accepted for who they are, which might not be the reality they experience daily, where almost everything they encounter is in English. They would feel a sense of belonging that comes from meeting others who share the same culture and struggles. This photo does not show the reality that American society values White culture and suppresses other cultures through every day and structural discrimination. Coffee Cup actively fights against these injustices by providing a safe space for seniors to engage in their culture and receive support for navigating White society that is full of barriers for non-White, non-English speaking people. I hope that people who see this photo will reflect on the ways that non-White people and cultures are oppressed in America. I hope we can all follow Coffee Cup’s model and help people of color to not only feel a sense of acceptance and belonging but also flourish in the community.