Que Buen Año Entre Las Hermanas Unidas

Within the Hispanic and Latinx communities, there have been advancements and achievements within the past year. From Bad Bunny receiving the title of “Artist of the Year” by Apple Music to twenty-five-year-old Afro-Cuban Maxwell Frost becoming the first to represent Gen Z in Congress, the Latinx community has much to celebrate this year. While these are broader and even international examples, the Latinx community has also flourished here on campus.

Among the several student-led clubs and organizations here at LBSU, Hermanas Unidas (HAU) is one of the few that focus on the Latinx community. Hermanas Unidas is a non-profit organization that [revolves] around four pillars: “community, wellness, academic and social services.” The organization strives to provide a safe and educational environment for those of the Latinx community.

Out of HAU’s board members stands Nadia Gonzalez, one of the co-chairs. Since she has been a part of HAU for some time now, she has been able to reflect on the progress the organization has made this past year. She says that this year specifically, it felt as if the club began to grow rapidly as it has “given a sense of home to so many students.” For several students, especially those who come from different backgrounds and speak other languages, it is often hard to find a place where they can relate to others and be their authentic selves. Fortunately, HAU has allowed many Latinx students to find their place on campus. For this reason, Nadia and her fellow co-chair have two main goals for the upcoming year: “to create a welcoming space… [and] to have many returners each meeting.” They hope to achieve these two goals in order for members to bond closely with one another. Currently, Nadia says the club participates in icebreakers and other activities to help encourage participation among members and to help provide a fun break from their studies.

While she, her co-chair, and other officers oversee creating a space for Latinx individuals to learn and grow, Nadia has learned a lot about herself [since she started running the club]. She says that at first, it was difficult for her to find her place here at Long Beach State as she had been “scared of not fitting in with the right people.” For her, HAU has helped her find her place and has allowed her to connect with others who are like her. Being a first-generation Latina herself, Nadia has realized the importance of “reaching out” to the Latinx community, as being involved with her cultural side has made her feel “more confident and safer.”

Next semester, Nadia intends to introduce

“shadowing a steering position.” She defines this as a way members will be able to “shadow,” or see, how each club officer “performs their tasks.” In doing this, Nadia hopes that those who are interested in becoming an officer can understand the different roles among board members to help decide which role would suit them best and to get an idea of how the club functions “behind the scenes.” She looks forward to making new friends with those in the club and HAU’s annual state conference, where members can network with other HAU chapters in the state. The club is active on Instagram, where they post updates and meeting information. The HAU chapter here at LBSU awaits more members and participation next year.

WRITTEN BY ERIC CEJA RUIZ

ILLUSTRATION BY

SERENA LOGAN

Sounds that bounce with the touch of a button vibrate through the air, into our ears, and out into our hearts. Feeding our anticipation as our heart syncs with the 808 beats. Art engineered down to the last thump, creating a poetic pattern that brings comfort or power. Music engulfs its subject, allowing for the creation of individuals, memories, and communities. Music is like the waves of sound that travel through the air and into our hearts. It’s beautiful to see the way it adapts depending on its creator; it weaves together Lana Del Rey’s unforgettable glamour, Brockhampton’s ruminating rhymes, Bad Bunny’s rhythmic Latin flow, Stray Kids’ captivating beats to the thundering riffs of Metallica, adapting to the heartfelt storytelling of Morgan Wallen, the gut-wrenching ballads of Adele, the dreamy sounds of Tame Impala, the raw authenticity of Girl in Red, and the boundary-pushing creativity of Kendrick Lamar. Music is a gift that keeps us human.

I write this article from the southwest terrace at the University Student Union as the Musicians’ Club prepares to perform their first performance of the semester. Musicians stand to the right of the stage, excited for their turn to show the world their art and passion. Each expresses themselves in their own style accompanied by their instrument of choice. In just minutes, their notes will begin to dance through the air and bring smiles to those sitting around. It is inspiring to watch individuals with such passion gather.

As the year ends, individuals are presented with their Spotify Wrapped or Apple Music Replay, which reviews its user’s listening metrics. With over 700 hours of music play time in 2023, it is a perfect time to reflect on the importance and ways music has impacted me. This year has gone by faster than I could have imagined. Still, it has also been a significant year where I got introduced to countless genre-bending musicians. I learned how to appreciate different forms of music and the poetic beats and lyrics that come along. Amid school, work, and social chaos, music kept me afloat this year, and I owe it to the fact that many of my favorite artists released new music. Music allowed me to create new memories through the cold winter, into the sunny spring days, through the hot summer nights, and back into the fall semester as 2023 comes to an end. Music has brought comfort in times of uncertainty and made me feel more powerful in times when power was lacking. It adapted when it needed to, and it inspired new individual creativity.

The rhythm and the flow of beats impacted my life. Still, it also is infused into the media we consume every day. In the modern day of streaming, it is super easy for individuals to access all types of music. Music that plays as the main character in a movie is off to start their journey, or the sad music composed to make a river of tears flow down our cheeks. Music that plays as we go shop or cultural music that plays as we go eat at our favorite restaurants. Social media platforms like TikTok allow artists of all genres and all experiences to share their musical art for a chance to be seen by the world. I can only speak for myself, but I am confident that music is a gift that lives on through history even when its creator has passed. It is a gift and a legacy that lives on and is appreciated by new generations of individuals hungry for art to fill their little hearts’ desires.

Though the year is ending, it is still a perfect opportunity to enjoy new music and appreciate the art that comes through the many different genres. Scan the code to hear what CSULB students have been listening to this year. Curated through a campus-wide survey.

Candy, my black lab, never minded how long it had been since she’d seen my face. She would sniff my legs and feet, nudging into me, before I briskly entered my home, escaping from the discomfort of an overly excited dog. She had the typical frame of a lab but remained heavy, having a large belly and a tail that felt like steel when it smacked against me. I adored the white hair worn on her chest, giving off a pride or uniqueness–her toes were also white. Candy was really optimistic, being old and nearly blind yet still wagging her tail and begging for affection.

The way our relationship worked was usually through physical language. When I’d slide the rattling, cage-like fence gate open to let myself into the front yard, it would alarm every dog on the damn street and bring her forth. Sometimes, when I would feel complicated or simply guilty, I’d give her a moment, just a moment of my attention. We’d give each other looks, sometimes serious and sometimes awkward, telling each other about our state of mind. She tended to be some kind of lonely, and so was I. But why did I deserve my loneliness, when she was the one locked in a small space during the day, only able to come out at night to whine? That question always came up when I saw those glossy eyes of hers, so fucked up that they began to fill with milk. I couldn’t tell if she teared up due to emotion or blindness.

Other, more intimate moments we shared were on the two steps of our backdoor. Whether it was when my love interest rejected me, I had trouble in school, I felt confused about my future, my best friend suffered suicidal ideation… She never failed to nuzzle me and lick my limbs as I sat upon those steps, quiet and understanding as a dear friend. Candy knew everything; Candy understood the world in a way I couldn’t. I projected all the emotions during my nights with Candy, staring into stars as if they represented my experiences in a neat, cosmic scale. It was all about me.

When I’d finished my moments of vain, I had no qualms about closing the steel security door behind me as I walked back into the house, rejecting that dog with the door’s rattles. Candy would reside anyway in her doghouse, even as it wasn’t locked or closed. She’d whine sometimes, bothering my sleep. I wondered why she would do that even at her old age. She should’ve learned by now the futility of whining to masters.

Around the time when the coronavirus pandemic began, we adopted a puppy from my uncle. Yoshi was like a smaller version of Candy, with longer and fluffier hair and without the white toes. At first he was nervous and shaky. Yoshi was meant to calm down the tension of loss and stress due to the pandemic and was my mother’s idea for additional company (in our already cramped home) for both our family and Candy. It was a funny thing, mostly because this was spontaneous, but also because Yoshi seemed to annoy the hell out of Candy. It was when Yoshi was growing up that I heard Candy’s first noises of discontent. Yoshi loved to get in her way, bite her, and jump at her. Candy didn’t mind stepping right on his face when she walked down the hall.

Yoshi was likely the only reason she was ever allowed to be inside the house. About a year after Yoshi was introduced, my family decided to adopt two more dogs to keep him company. During this doghouse. It was my sister who had noticed that her behavior was odd. Eventually, Candy became completely limp. time, the house became “enthusiastic,” with many things happening all at once. My younger brother Robert and I started classes, my mother and sister visited Mexico, and my oldest brother’s wife was pregnant. Most mornings during this time, Robert and I were awoken by the excited steps and licks of two or three dogs invading our room. Yoshi had become the leader of the three runts at this point, being followed by the white-haired Toby and the black-haired, white-footed Estrella. The three disasters always left presents for us during the night and when we woke up, we had to clean up the mess in the living room.

A dark silhouette seemed to always be in the corner of my eye. During that year of strange occurrences, I feared it in the pitch-black corner of the living room and the dark shapes of strangers walking at night, who were too far away to detail. I swore it lurked in the back seat when I wasn’t looking and followed my siblings when they coughed too loud. I swear I could hear it swipe and claw whenever I heard my sister scream or my brother yell out in pain because of a stubbed toe. I was always glad that it was a stubbed toe.

Even then, I had too much time to think.

Candy died a few months after we adopted Yoshi. I never saw her die, I was only told that she had died. I had one opportunity to see her body and I decided not to, but my family crowded around to see her. They told me that she was acting irritable on the morning of her death. She would only lie inside her doghouse. My dad left soon after to get to work, and everyone else slept while she ceased, resting in the

It was like this for a while, until the last few weeks of the semester. I slept in the morning and woke up when it was lunch time. I binge-watched series and movies. I attempted to intimidate the world by showing that it couldn’t hurt me anymore—because I was hurting myself. The only good thing that came out of these weeks was going to the cinema after purchasing a subscription. “A-list membership at AMC for 24.99 a month!” was an attractive offer. I went every week, making the theater and the mall my respite. Long movies and quiet moments after closing credits allowed for deep conversations inside my head. I thought about simple, non-complicated ways of looking at everything, including how Candy may have seen the world. I thought about wise advice that no one would ever give me, except when their voices appear in my head, stolen from reality. I thought about the smooth coat of Candy’s hair, her cute soft ears and how jolly she was.

There was this one moment I couldn’t forget. The memory came back to me from several years ago when I lived in the suburbs. I told my mother, as a stupid kid, that I was afraid of the dark and there was danger in the dark. She told me that I shouldn’t fear anything because God was in my heart, keeping me company. I tried to apply her advice but this only seemed to accomplish foolish courage. I realized later on that the shadows themselves were my company, whether I liked it or not. It wanted what I had; when it took something, it gave something back. I get that same feeling when I look into the dark and glossy eyes of the three small dogs, as if they were birthed from the same stuff as Candy’s milky white eyes. They are pitch-black—and I can see myself through them.