Camino a mi Hogar

In Partnership With Roosevelt High School

Camino a mi Hogar

This book was written by the Ethnic Studies students taught by Dr. Jorge Lopez, Ms. Liliana Mendoza, Ms. Emily Parra, Ms. Dallana Jimenez Hermosillo, and Ms. Georgina Abuede at Theodore Roosevelt High School in Boyle Heights, CA in the Spring of 2023.

The views expressed in this book are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect those of 826LA. We support student publishing and are thrilled you picked up this book.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher.

Este libro fue escrito por los estudiantes de Estudios Étnicos enseñados por el Dr. Jorge López, la Sra. Liliana Mendoza, la Sra. Emily Parra, la Sra. Dallana Jiménez Hermosillo, y la Sra. Georgina Abuede en Theodore Roosevelt High School en Boyle Heights, CA en la primavera de 2023.

Las opiniones expresadas en este libro son las de los autores y no reflejan necesariamente las de 826LA. Apoyamos la publicación de jóvenes autores y estamos felices que hayan recogido este libro.

Todos los derechos reservados. Prohibida la reproducción total o parcial de este libro sin autorización escrita del editor.

Editor(s):

Wendy Beltran

Brettany Valenzuela

America Melchor Leon

Marco Beltran

Angie Martinez Morales

Keenia Saray Mata

Erika Rivera

Cover Artwork : Melissa Fernandez

Book Design: Melissa Fernandez

In celebration of our 20th Anniversary, 826LA dedicates this publication to all of those who have helped make our community what it is, what it was, and what it will become.

Thank you to the students, volunteers, educators, donors, staff, community partners, and time-travelers who have filled the last 20 years with such creativity, joy, and hope.

We look forward to another 20 years in partnership!

Table of Contents

Introduction

Intersections of Home:

La Casa de un Chapin John T.

Mi Casita Yareli

Losing My Home Allison G.

Home Anonymous

Home: My Safe Space and Escape Rafael R.

My Safe Space Jocelyn A.

Life is Tricky: Fake or Not Leslie M.

Welcome to the Land Angel V.

Not Beverly Hills Edgar M.

The Reality of My Community Ivan G.

Strong Enough to Stay Afloat:

My Bumpy Road D.M.H

Lena’s Flame Lena

Free Spirited Anonymous Raccoon

Escaping the Dark Rubix

Broken Soul D.M.H

I Ain’t the Lazy Boy Ethan G.

Sun Rays in a Bubbly Mind Rubix

My Secret Shadow Alondra L

Existing for Me:

Poem of My Life D.M.H

You Are More Than Marely N.

Two Personalities, One Life Silla

Why I Dyed My Hair Black Destiny V.

Hidden Behind the Purple Mask Lena

Who Am I (What’s My Identity?) D.M.H

Music Definitions Chris HP.

What’s My Purpose Kevin H.

From Me to You:

I Love You Dayami M.

To The Beautiful Angel in Heaven Andrea C.

Thank You Christopher R.

Declaration of Love to My Buddies Anonymous

Para Mi Idolo Gordo

Jazzy and May Mary D.

Stan Twice Lee M.

The Other Side AJ

Pursuing My Ambition: The Sadness and Happiness

of Reaching the Next Alexander G.

De Nuestros Hogares:

The Journey to Freedom

All Roads Lead Home Idanya V.

A Beauty With Thorns Alize

Pop Culture Connection Chase L.M.

My Long-Distance Friendship Heidi V.

What Made Me B.L

My Inheritance is My Culture Adriana A.

My Letter 2 My Mother D.M.H.

Stronger Together Marina G.

What Makes My Home Joanna R.

Acknowledgments About 826LA Programs

Join the Future Bestsellers Club! Staff, Board and Advisory

Introduction

When I was younger, my family lived in what could now be considered a studio, though I remember it more as a no-bedroom apartment on South Figueroa Street. The four of us lived on top of each other, but as a kid that didn’t matter. What I remember most are the doodles on the white front door my dad encouraged us to draw with permanent marker, the warmth and laughter from my mom, and how her cooking filled every corner of the room, and climbing up and watching TV on the cool metal bunk beds I shared with my brother. It was all I needed. It was our home.

Camino a mi Hogar is a collection of writing from Roosevelt High School’s Ethnic Studies classes that captures the comforting and sometimes complex notion of “home” as seen through the lives of these students from Boyle Heights. Within its pages, “home” reflects the people, memories, and communities that have shaped them. These young authors offer thoughtful snapshots of their self-discovery and it is these insights that are essential in today’s world, because true community healing begins with visibility and the courage to be vulnerable.

In the Ethnic Studies Classes at Roosevelt, teachers engage their 9th-grade students with a curriculum that highlights their voices, reflects their experiences, and validates their realities. They are asked to look at their lives and really see themselves and what their community means to them— a task easier said than done. They utilize the history of Boyle Heights to allow students to understand their present and future through the lens of the past.

With this book, the students of Roosevelt High School generously and honestly pass along their motivations, aspirations, adorations, difficulties, dreams, and histories in the hopes that they find their way to someone who needs a sense of home.

Intersections of Home

Wendy Beltran Senior Writers’ Room Program Coordinator, Roosevelt High School

La Casa de un Chapin

John T.

Home feels like a place to relax after a long day at work, school, or anything that gets you exhausted. But how do the people that live with you make it feel like home? It’s a space that feels safe. Every house is different whether it is its race, culture, religion, or the people that live with you. My house is unique because of how different my family is from each other, like how we like to get ready in the mornings. It takes me a long time because I want to feel clean and nice, but they like to do everything fast and be simple. As a result, I end up looking like I was the one who was late because they were ready before me.

Something weird about my home is that one part of the house is organized, which is my room, and the rest is disorganized. I always have to organize the rest of the house, but it goes back to how it was. As a kid, my mom would constantly tell me to keep everything clean or tell me, “¡Si viene el presidente en esta casa, va a ser una vergüenza si mira todo desordenado!” After my brother is done playing with his toys and my mom has something else to do, I have to pick up after him, wipe the table, and sweep the floor. As years passed, I’m the one now who tells my mom and the rest of the family, “¡Si viene el presidente en esta casa, va ser una vergüenza si mira todo desordenado!” to keep everything spotless. However, my parents and brother don’t mind how unorganized the house can get. Despite having different cleaning styles, it is special to me how we all still get along even though we each have different preferences.

What makes home safe is how cared for I am in my house by my family. They always remind me that they love me through their actions. My mom will ask me if I want to go shopping with her. We shop for clothes or groceries, and sometimes we go to Chinatown to see what they’re selling. My dad kisses my forehead before I leave for school or when I go out. He always makes sure to check that I’m safe when I go out as well. Whenever it’s late at night and there’s crazy people outside on the streets or whenever I get in an argument I feel upset but going back home brings me back joy.

I live in a Chapin household with my one sibling and my parents. The word “Chapin” is used to refer to people from Guatemala. Living in a Chapin household means speaking in K’iche’, a Mayan language, and Spanish to communicate. My family and I communicate mainly in Spanish. But when extended family comes over, my parents speak K’iche with them. I don’t speak K’iche fluently but I know how to ask my family how they are, describe things,

and ask how much food they want. When I can’t respond in K’iche, I say it in Spanish because they all know the language. Speaking both languages is special to me because I’m able to understand everything my family is saying.

Living in my house on the weekends gets pretty loud. It is when my mom plays loud concert music from Guatemala while cooking tamales to sell. The house ends up smelling like crushed peppers and chicken. I can hear the knife cutting the chicken apart and feel the steam inside the house from all the cooking. However, on the weekdays, the house feels pretty lonely and quiet. Having Guatemalteco parents also means they work hard for us. Only seeing them in the morning before they go to work and sometimes at night if my brother and I are still awake when they come back. Though she is not home when I come back home from school, my mom always makes sure to leave us a hot fresh meal before she goes to work.

What makes my home feel like home is that though everything in the house is technically not mine, I can use anything without having to ask for permission. Whether it’s getting food from the fridge, lying on the bed, watching the TV downstairs, using the guest towel, or toothpaste, I don’t have to worry about being scared of using something as if I were in someone else’s house.

Home doesn’t need to be a physical place, but it can be people, animals, culture, or food. People can make any place home by making you feel safe and comfortable, like my family. Without them, my house would feel gray and cold. Animals remind me of my cultural roots. For example, when I see chickens, I’m reminded of tamales Guatemaltecos con pollo. Seeing your culture outside your house can also make you feel like you are home. Hearing the music or smelling the food your mom would cook for you as a kid (even if it doesn’t taste the same as hers) can remind you of the cultural traditions you grew up with. Home is what you make of it. It doesn’t need to be a particular place but rather the things that make that place special to you.

Mi Casita

Waking up to my baby brother yelling and laughing. The smell of my mom cooking fills the house while my dad is watching the baby and my younger brother is playing games on his phone. I get up from bed to wish a good morning first to my baby brother and then my parents and younger brother. This is home for me. It is where I see and interact with the people I love. It is a comfortable place. Home is where I can relax and let my guard down without having to worry.

I have many good memories at home, like baking with my mom, although she would get mad at me when I couldn’t find the ingredients or if I was doing things too slowly. Or watching sports on TV with my dad while he is yelling and stressing over the game. Or playing ball inside the house with my younger brother. Even though we were told not too many times, we never listened and ended up breaking things a few times. Remembering these memories I have had at the place and with the people I call home makes me feel happy.

Even though we don’t live in a house with a beautiful backyard or garden, our apartment is good enough for us. Since we live on the second floor, I sometimes complain about the struggle of going up and down the stairs every day, especially after a long day at school or a game. People often laugh when I tell them I live where the pharmacy is. I think it is because a lot of people don’t even know that there are apartments there since they are sort of hidden. I see this as a good thing because I feel that this makes my home a safe place to live.

Losing My Home

Allison G.

I remember that home as if I were still there

I remember that gated community full of chile bushes surrounding the house with The bright colors of yellow, red, and green

They were tiny and hung on their stems

I remember windmills full of colors and flower pots of dandelions and tulips Of every color hung everywhere

I remember the smell of smokey sages that filled the house and my abuela’s perfume That smelled of flowers and coconut, which surrounded her fully

I remember the noise of laughter, Mexican music, the beats and sounds of bachata, dancing, and my abuela’s telenovelas.

I remember always looking forward to my abuelita’s warm thin pancakes filled with Chocolate that made me feel special

I remember the smell of cinnamon that filled the kitchen as my abuela made

Her famous arroz con leche

Her mother passed down that special recipe.

I remember the people who helped me smile and laugh, Making the best first memories lovable

They made that place feel like eating a conchita with hot chocolate

I remember the day I felt like I was drowning

I remember that home being the last place that felt like my uncle was still there.

I remember the last time I looked out my window

My window, full of sunlight and warmth, was now dull and full of sadness.

I remember the day my cousins and I had to leave the only home we had ever known

I remember watching my home fade away

I remember never feeling the warmth that home

Made me feel with those people ever again

I remember how it had felt knowing that I would never cherish future memories

More than I had cherished the ones inside that house

I remember it as if it was stuck on repeat

Yareli

Home Anonymous

It was a sunny day. I got dressed and ready for school. I brushed my teeth and hair. I put my clothes and shoes on. The whole time I tried my best to not make noise that would wake up my little brother, or anyone else in the house. As I got ready I could hear my mom get up to take me to my best friend’s house.

I had a smile on my face the whole ride. Every day I would get dropped off at my best friend’s house before school and my mom and I always have morning talks about something random on the way. This day, we had a conversation about how much we had been through together and how much we have grown after my brother was born. My mother explained how she wished she made better decisions and did things differently. She was young, I put no blame on her. She has always tried her best to reach for more. Since I was a toddler, I have moved to different houses in Los Angeles. Each was a different environment I had to adjust to. I did not mind it at all, as long as I was with my mom. Every place we moved to I felt comfort knowing my mom was there with me. My mom would paint the house or decorate it to make it look nice for us even though the areas we would live in would not be the nicest. She would get nice couches, put up family pictures, keep the house clean and smelling good. Home for me was never necessarily a house, it would always be what my mom did to make it home for me. She would try her best to give my brother and me a safe place.

I look forward to going to school every day because of the car rides with my mom and my best friend. My best friend and I are always together. We arrive at school together, eat lunch together, and walk each other to class. We’ve been inseparable since 8th grade. If you saw me, you would see her right next to me. We have gotten closer over the years. She and I have gone through hardships and many memorable laughs together; we’re like sisters. We find comfort in coming to school together and being together throughout the day. It’s not the school that makes it like home, it’s the memories we’ve made here in Boyle Heights. Even though things have changed, like life is bound to, we make the best of it and still crack jokes together.

Home for me is who I feel safe and comfortable with. If I were to completely move to another school, my life would not be the same. I built relationships with people here. The people I’ve met are amazing. They make my school and Boyle Heights feel like a home for me.

Home: My Safe Space and Escape

Rafael R.

I care about my family’s safety because I don’t want them to get hurt. The good thing about my home is that I don’t really have to worry about anyone being outside late which is something I appreciate. My dad usually comes home from work around 6:00 PM to 7:00 PM. By this time, I’m already showered and feeling relaxed and sleepy. I can hear him come in through the door and talking to my mom. They have their regular conversation where my mom asks him “¿Cómo te fue en el trabajo?” or “¿Quieres que te caliente la comida ahorita o más al rato?” Hearing their conversation gives me comfort because that means everyone is home together and safe.

My room has two beds–one on each side. The one on the right is my little sister and the one on the left next to the window and in front of the TV is mine. On the TV, I like to play video games like Call of Duty or GTA V with my PS4. Playing video games brings me comfort when I am feeling angry or upset. It is one way I am able to relax since I’m able to play games with my friends to feel better.

My room is my favorite place in the house because it is where I can chill, relax, and get some rest. If I am in a bad mood, I can go there and I won’t be bothered by anyone. There isn’t a lot of stuff in my room because we usually send old clothes we don’t wear anymore to relatives in Mexico. After I clean out my room, it looks tidier because my closet is half full, the TV stand is wiped down, and the beds are neatly done. Honestly, sharing rooms with my sister can be a bit difficult because sometimes I want to be alone when she is there. I don’t want to be mean to her so I usually don’t say anything.

Recently, I was at my cousin’s house for a party and I didn’t feel welcomed at all. It’s probably because I have not really talked to any of them in almost a year. I felt like there was a lot of distance between us and I didn’t know how to close it. To make matters worse, my mom and aunt had issues in the past. Though they are on good terms now, there is still tension. At the party, my extended family only talked to me once and ignored me for the rest of the night. I felt so uncomfortable that I didn’t even want to eat. When I finally got back home, I felt like I could relax and feel comfortable where I was. I took a shower, played video games with my friends, and watched a movie on Netflix. I even grabbed some chips and a water bottle to eat and drink in my room. I cherish my home because it is my safe space to wind down after being in an uncomfortable situation.

My Safe Space

Jocelyn A.

Home is my safe space to dress, act, and talk how I want. When I’m home, you will catch me in my Hollister sweats and a muscle shirt because it is comfortable. When I am home, I am very outspoken because my mom and I are always having conversations about how my family members act around other people. I also talk differently at home than when I am out in public. At home, I talk loudly, while people see me as quiet at school. At home, I can do whatever makes me comfortable without feeling embarrassed that anyone will see me differently. I feel like I have eyes on me wherever I go. If any teenagers my age saw how I dressed, acted, and talked at home, they would judge me because they tend to think that the way you dress can say a lot about you as a person.

I can be the person I want to be because home is the place that makes me feel cared for and loved. My mom and I have times when we bake together, and it makes me feel loved because I do not see her doing that with anyone other than me. Whenever I’m outside of my house, I feel judged for how I act, dress, or talk. I begin to feel criticized. When I see other people my age looking at me whenever I’m acting or talking a certain way, I feel judged because I am self-conscious. People would look at me up and down, making me feel like they were judging me. This is the reason why people think I am shy when they first meet me, but when they really get to know me, I become comfortable with how I dress, act, and talk, sometimes to the point where they think I am another person. However, when I am home, my family has seen me grow up, so they know how I dress, act, and talk without being so judgmental. My family knows me for who I am. Having my family know me on a personal level makes me feel supported.

Knowing that my family supports me makes me feel like they will not judge me. I know that the people around me will not look at me differently. I can be myself around them. Home is my place to be myself because I know that the people around me do not care about the way I dress. They care about me, and I can be comfortable being myself. I know that my family will always accept me without making me feel judged. Remembering moments when you didn’t feel uncomfortable with the people you cherish can help you overcome the fear of being judged.

Life is Tricky: Fake or Not

Leslie M.

I live in Boyle Heights and to me, the community I live in is a dangerous and violent place. You hear people talk about someone being murdered and police chasing criminals at night. You can also hear and see helicopters using their speakers and lights to tell criminals to surrender. Ambulances drive through my street rushing to save the people who have been injured. I have lived here for 14 years, practically my whole life. Since I see and hear the same things every day, it doesn’t surprise me when something like that happens because I’m so used to it. The community of Boyle Heights is a Latinx neighborhood. As a result, you will always hear loud music blasting, like banda, reggaeton, cumbia, and corridos. You can also smell smoke which can come from a burning house or a carne asada when we have parties. There are always parties; quinceañera, bautizos, or birthday parties.

This reminds me of a memory from when I was about one or two years old. My family was having a little party and I was learning to walk at that time. I needed to gain my balance so I accidentally grabbed the grill, later letting go and falling down. I remember staring at my hand and my parents rushing towards me and grabbing me. They rushed me to the doctors. They were only aware because my tía screamed saying that I burned my hand. The doctors were stitching my hands while I was screaming and crying from the pain. When we were there, the doctors noticed that I also had burn marks on my chin and arm. I still have that same scar with me, so when I look at it, I am reminded of what happened. As a result of my accident, I learned to become more aware of my surroundings. This skill has helped me navigate the danger that exists in my neighborhood.

Growing up, I learned about and witnessed the dangers in my community like robberies, murders, and gang violence. To survive, I had to be cautious and alert of my surroundings. I’ve learned to not trust people easily because people fake who they are. They don’t show who they really are until they can trust you. This makes me feel somewhat uncomfortable because I would be upset if I was openly sharing things about my life with someone but they only share false information with me. This can leave you having trust issues and make you feel like you can’t trust people around you. I understand that some things are meant to be private, but it is not good to fake everything about your life.

If the community was able to trust each other, I believe there would be less violence. Also, people would help you with whatever you might be dealing with. When I think of Boyle Heights, I would say that it’s ghetto, violent, and unsafe but also somewhat friendly. Growing up here has shaped me a lot. I’ve learned to be social and friendly, but also while being very aware of people and not speaking much

about myself. I’ve learned to be respectful to the people I think deserve it. My life is tricky and complicated. I’m very different when you meet me versus when I’m alone. I’ve been supporting myself and learning everything on my own without any motivation or support from others. As a child, I was called a “little diablito” because of how much I cried and how angry I would get. I still am like that but I’ve become more mature. I’m facing so many challenges, such as being the oldest in my family and having to be a role model to my younger siblings by setting a good example. It isn’t easy growing, but I need to keep going and not give up. Life sure is tricky.

Welcome to the Land

Angel V.

Where I’m from, palm trees sway

Birds chirp, and kids play

All this lets you know that you’re in LA

Where I’m from, skyscrapers touch the sun

In my city, people cruise down the boulevard for fun

To make their way to the gray arches that lift toward the sun

If I look to my left and look to my right,

Lowriders are everywhere in plain sight

Bouncing up and down and loving to move around

In my country, we have a lot of towns

People of different colors: Black and Brown

In my city, it gets dangerous

Kids dying, mothers crying

Where I’m from, there’s a whole lot of gang violence

People getting locked up or die fighting

But where I stay, I feel safe

I love living in this beautiful place called Earth

Before I eat dinner, I pray and say grace

Turn off the TV and see someone going on a high-speed chase

In my vision, you’ll be greeted with faces

That lets you know you’re in the right place

In my beloved place I call home

You’ll never have to worry about feeling alone

When I walk into the kitchen, look over to my right

I witness Mom cooking chicken with rice

She asks if I would like to eat

As your teeth sink into a bite, you’re greeted with the flavors of spices

We take a seat and talk for hours about anything

Having a roof to sleep under at night is a blessing and

Making memories in this place I call home is what matters to me

Not Beverly Hills

Edgar M.

I grew up here in Boyle Heights and there have always been problems and struggles. When I was younger, I would hear gunshots so often around my house that it started to feel normal. Even when I would just try to go for walks in the parks, there would always be gangs hanging out and giving people weird looks to intimidate them. I remember hearing a story about some teenagers who were going to the park where they encountered a group of gang members. One of the gangsters caught one of the teenagers looking at them and asked “What are you looking at?” in an aggressive way. After that, the gang members started chasing the teenagers. They were able to get away from them but now they had to stay alert because if the gangsters saw them again, they might not get away this time. Along with all of this violence, there is also a homelessness problem in the community. I have seen a lot of homeless people who are always standing outside of stores asking for money. Some homeless people set up tents with shopping carts in front of grocery stores and I feel that it makes our community look messy. The city doesn’t try to help them get back on their feet so they no longer hang around on the streets.

When I walk around my neighborhood, I always see cracks on the sidewalks, rundown buildings, and the smells of trash surround me. Then when I visit a community near Beverly Hills, it is like a different world. The sidewalks are so much cleaner with no cracks and the air is fresh and clean. The buildings, despite being there for a long time, are well-maintained and look as if they were just built. While in Boyle Heights, buildings that just open already have tagging on them. When the owners paint over them, the paint sometimes is different colors and makes the building look like they are not cared for.

After visiting the parks in the nicer areas of Los Angeles, the vibe and the people there are different from the ones in my community. There aren’t any gangsters looking at you with intimidating looks. Instead, people greet each other and are friendly. Our parks, on the other hand, look dirty and uncared for because there’s trash everywhere and tags on the playgrounds. While in the other neighborhoods, they take care of their parks. They look clean and I’ve seen people who take time to pick up trash they see. Seeing all these nice things in this community makes me wish Boyle Heights was like this. Clean, taken care of, and with people who greet each other instead of starting problems with others.

There have been movies that have taken place in Boyle Heights and one that stood out to me was Blood In Blood Out. The movie had gangs, shootings, robberies, and showed tags all over the city. Though these things really do happen in my community, I didn’t like the way the movie showed it. It made it seem as if all of these things happen every day and to an extreme in Boyle Heights when they don’t. The movie exaggerates it and makes the community look like it’s taken over completely by gang violence. What the movie doesn’t mention or show is the other side of Boyle Heights. Living here, I have met a lot of helpful and kind people who want to see the community get better. The schools now have more programs and resources to help students to graduate and succeed. Even after all of the bad things that happen in Boyle Heights, it is still my home and all I want is for it to become the great community I know it can be. A place where people feel safe and like they are a part of something bigger.

The Reality of My Community

Ivan G.

I am a Mexican-American from Boyle Heights Who eats carne asada at family events

As the smell of the food flows in the air

Carne Asada has begun to smell like home to me.

Boyle Heights, where outgoing Tios and Tias Sing and dance to Mexican music at family gatherings. Where Tias talk “chisme” with each other. Their eyes pop out and they clap their hands while they talk They complain about their kids saying phrases such as “My kids are so lazy and don’t do anything around the house.”

And “I know, mine don’t do enough chores either!”

I am a Mexican-American from Boyle Heights Who wakes up to the sound of the Tamalero honking a horn. He honks his horn signaling that he’s selling fresh tamales. When the sound of the horn travels into our home

My dad jumps up and begins to search for money in his pockets

To buy some fresh tamales for breakfast.

After the money is found I watch as my dad

Runs out the house chasing the Tamalero shouting “Stop!”

The Tamalero turns around,

“What would you like today?” he asks my dad. “Four tamales, please,” my dad responds. He hands the Tamalero the money. The Tamalero responds by saying “Gracias for your support.”

I am from Boyle Heights.

Where Downtown LA is in the distance.

Lights from the fancy buildings

Shine like diamonds across the streets.

The smell of fresh tacos as you walk around the streets. Seeing taco stands and the smell of carne

Coming off the grill on every other block.

Hearing the sounds of Mexican music and traffic Blending together on every corner.

I am from Boyle Heights

Where people don’t know if they’re hearing fireworks or gunshots.

Where parents are scared when their kids go outside.

As you walk around the community, Taggings and scribbles of words decorate the walls of empty alleys.

The strong smell of fresh spray paint hits my lungs

While police sirens come down from the streets

Followed by dogs barking at the loud disruptive noise.

At night, I can hear sounds of popping and the thoughts of

Not knowing if the people in my community are safe starts forming.

As I walk around my neighborhood,

I notice bullet holes in the walls that symbolize danger.

Although there are a lot of negatives,

There are a lot of positives as well.

I am from Boyle Heights

Where you can visit the Sixth Street Bridge.

From there, you can see beautiful views of City lights, buildings, and the sky.

Where you can go to Mariachi Plaza

And listen to the mariachi bands.

Where you can see our community having Parades, car shows, painting murals, and more.

The parades are usually to celebrate the holidays.

At the car shows, people are showcasing their classic cars.

And murals show life from different times in our history.

I am from Boyle Heights

Where you can see murals being painted by our community.

Most of the population of Boyle Heights is of Mexican descent.

All the murals have our stories behind them.

Such as the Walkouts of 1968

At Roosevelt High School

Which were painted by students in the community.

Boyle Heights is a place that can be welcoming

But also dangerous.

It has its ups and its downs.

As I said, there are positives and negatives.

I am from Boyle Heights where my community is family.

Growing up with friends I’ve met here and Meeting new personalities has shaped me into

The person I am and my view on life. It shaped the way I am because I have learned new things about life From my friends and family. No matter where else I go, Where I’m from will always have a permanent impact on me.

Strong Enough to Stay Afloat

My Bumpy Road

D.M.H

At the age of 10,

A long time ago

Back then, all the pain I had since I was a child

And I knew I would not fit in for a while

My thoughts, my memories

Hit my mind like an airplane

And yet I knew I could not face it.

My demons are trying me

And yet when I rap, it relates to me

With all the mental health I’ve had to deal with, It felt like I couldn’t feel it

When 2021 came around,

I knew I would rap a sound

That would make a whole crowd

My pops said I wouldn’t make it

My friends said, “You could change it”

When I rap about my past

PTSD made it fast

People said I sounded better than Johnny Cash

I’m living large and fast

My rhymes were always steady, and I would never carry a machete

My flows are always on a grow

My lyrics are trying to make me poetic

I give love to my friends

I see them as my siblings

I would take care of them

I would protect them because that’s my personality

It’s not a figment of my creativity

When I try to protect my friends

The devil doesn’t like it so I get karma

And I have to deal with drama

I try to pray to God to get rid of the problems

When I rap on the mic

People want to hear about gangs

Instead of about me

My issues and my life

I want to be myself on the mic rather than a wannabe

But it comes back to me

I want to rap about my own struggles and life

Instead of someone else’s

I’ve been struggling with my own issues and problems

From being manipulated to taken advantage of by bullies

I got motivated to say, “I’m done being taken advantage of!”

I want to express how I feel and want to stay real and

Acknowledge every feeling I’ve had

My music relates to the pain they have or had,

My pops thinks I’ll get shot up

My mom doesn’t know yet

My brother agrees with my father

And what I say is, move on.

Follow your passion

Do things slowly to get what you want to do

Always remember, no matter what difficult path you have, It won’t stop you from doing what you love and dream of doing.

Lena’s Flame

Light as bright as a candle

Ready to shine.

A smile from a young child, so much innocence

A body of a young life

Her blazing flame grows powerful

She must really be good at what she does

After a few small blows, her flame still stands high.

No one can blow the flame out.

Bound to burn out like a flame in winter snow.

A once happy smile of innocence becomes a smile of a mask

The flame has become fragile; it creates trouble

The flame walks down the halls of a school where they feel empty. The flame who sat alone with another candle who was her only friend Who shined brighter than any flame.

Never given a chance to shine bright like other flames.

The flame became so little there was barely any light.

Following passions only to have the flame blown out by the ones who lit it. Getting cheap thrills of fun and praise

Estranged from others.

This little candle who wants validation of the ones who lit her up.

Once a growing flame is nothing but a dead wick

Waiting to be re-lit by someone else.

Free Spirited Anonymous

Raccoon

As far as I can remember, I have always be the first person awake. At the age of 3, and in a middle-class house with 8 people, 5 rooms, 2 bathrooms, a big backyard, and a decent-sized kitchen, I had always wondered what the day would bring. As I stared at the blank ceiling in my warm bed, wondering, I snapped back to reality. I got up in my pajamas, put my left shoe on my right foot and my right shoe on my left, and headed outside. I ran straight towards the forest-like backyard crawling with critters and loud cicadas. While I played in my pine treefilled backyard, I got the feeling that I was not alone. When I looked around to check, nobody was there. I continued to walk deeper into the backyard until I was stopped by the noise of a leaf being crushed. I looked towards the noise and saw a creature. It’s a blurry memory but I can recall the creature having many eyes, wings, no legs or arms, and just simply floating there; watching me as if I were an attraction in an aquarium. I couldn’t tell if it was the street light, or if it was the strong shine from the creature that was blinding me, but couldn’t look away. I couldn’t tell if the creature was real or if it was my imagination, but I knew that the goosebumps all over my body were a warning. A warning that I should return to my house yet; I walked closer and closer to the creature until I heard a loud yell. I turned back to see my grandma. I pointed at the thing that I could’ve sworn was right in front of me but my grandma just kept yelling at me to run back. I ignored her and chose to follow my curiosity and continue where I was originally heading but now I understood why she was yelling. In front of me was a Southern Pacific Rattlesnake. As a 3-yearold, I ran straight to the rattlesnake because I felt that with enough courage I could conquer anything that my heart desired. But with one simple hiss, I ran screaming to my grandmother. She was upset with me since I made too much noise for her to peacefully sleep but she warmed up a tea for me and added one ice cube to make sure the drink wasn’t too hot. Later that night, I questioned what I just saw. I asked myself, why wasn’t I scared? Why’d I feel a sense of comfort? Did it want to hurt me? Or was it warning me about the danger that was in front of me? As my memory slowly faded and my thoughts slowly calmed down, I fell asleep.

I wake up and suddenly 9 years have passed.

I’ve moved to a different place, in a different city, with my mother and a different family. This time I woke up without curiosity. I simply just woke up. I got ready for school which felt like an endless routine that I had to keep doing until summer vacation. I have to wake up extremely early for school. I’m in elementary school. It’s 2020 and the school year is coming to an end. I’m 12 years old and somewhat more mature but still very naïve. During the years I’ve gained more weight, started to be more self-aware of my appearance, and I’ve been questioning more and more things about myself. After all these years, I never became sure of what I saw

that evening as a kid. All I remembered was a surreal feeling. The school year finally came to an end and I was ready to be on summer vacation.

Halfway through my vacation, my family decided to drive to Oregon to meet some of my distant cousins. My grandma, grandpa, and Tia from my mom’s side of the family packed up their things for our trip. My mom has to stay here in California because of work. As my mom packed my things, I walked outside to the store for a snack. It’s currently 8:00 PM and the sun is just setting. The temperature is warm and the air breezes through the tall uncut grass in front of the sidewalk. The store is a 7-minute walk from my house but on my way, I felt something surreal and peculiar, yet very familiar. Still, I continued walking to the store when I saw a mural beside the wall and my heart dropped. There in front of me stood a tall spray-painted image of that same creature from that day in the forest. I quickly went into the store, bought my snacks, and speed-walk back home. At home, I looked online and typed in the description of what I hoped was just a creature my wild imagination created but according to the results, that creature, I was looking at was a biblically accurate angel. Before I can collect my thoughts, I’m rushed to collect any last-second items before we head out on my trip to Oregon.

During the drive, I asked my tia, “Tia, what are your thoughts on people seeing things…like angels?” She replied, “I think people who have those experiences are people who still aren’t ready for the dangers of the real world. They see the angel who is protecting them”. Now that I think back on that drive, she probably meant that as a person grows, they’ll slowly get stronger and stronger with every step they take; slowly becoming independent enough to take care of themselves without relying on anyone or anything.

The day before our stay in Oregon came to an end, I packed up my things and we all headed to bed around 8:30 pm as the sun was just setting. Suddenly I was in an empty playground with only three swings, a seesaw, and a sandy pit. When I stepped foot into the dark playground I saw the silhouette of a little boy. As the boy got closer I realized he wasn’t just any random kid; he was me. I yelled and called out my name multiple times in hopes of having some sort of communication, but I got no response. All I could do was observe myself swinging back and forth for what seemed like hours. I didn’t know what to do, so I walked up to myself and I noticed a weird look in his eyes. It seemed like he was hypnotized, staring in the distance at the angel I had seen my whole life.

I woke up from this dream to get a glass of water. I slipped on my chanclas and walked to the kitchen. In the kitchen, I heard an odd sizzling. I looked down to see a sinkhole that kept drastically growing and growing. My paralyzed body couldn’t do anything but stand frozen in fear. I screamed for help but no one came to my rescue. I was on my own. As I fell in, I cried and whined, begging for someone to help

me out but I knew if I wanted to get out of this sinkhole I had to figure something out. Next to me was a TV, a couch, a few toys, and a shattered glass. I pushed and pulled these items with all my strength. I managed to make a ramp and rushed my way up but suddenly everything collapsed. I jumped just in time but now I was hanging on to the ledge. I’ll admit that I don’t have the best body strength but with all the adrenaline I had at the moment, I was able to pull myself up. I rushed back to the room but when I opened the door, the room was pitch black and all I heard was a loud ringing noise as if the door was a portal to another dimension. Suddenly, the same angel that I’d been seeing was just floating there but this time it was just fading into the darkness and away from my life. I looked back where the sinkhole had been and nothing was there. It was all gone. I lay in my warm bed, scared, and looked up at the ceiling as I fell asleep thinking, was that a dream?

I wake up relieved and as I grow up, I don’t recall seeing the angel again. That nightmare was proof that I was capable and independent enough to get myself out of tough situations. I think the angel knew that it was time to let me go.

The End.

Escaping the Dark

Rubix

Running away to stop the numbing.

Unforgettable memories make me sensible. Big thoughts in my head make me tense

Impatience is starting to drown me into the dark. X-rays, studying to see what is wrong with me.

Running is too slow. I should fly

Under the pressure of time

Bright colors cause judgment

Inside a mind full of thoughts that crumble my insides

Xtremely disturbed and anxious

Broken Soul

D.M.H

Intro:

I’m D.M.H, and I have a broken soul

I have nowhere to go

But I moved on So let’s go

Verse One:

I’m lost with a cause, I have no flaws

And I don’t respect the law

I want peace with God

I fight with honor and trust

And with a broken soul

I got no hope or love

It’s a shame no one respects me

All the love I’ve had is empty

They don’t like me

They despise me

They won’t date a brother like me

2x Chorus:

Broken Soul

I feel that I got no hope And yet I think that I’m still dope I got nowhere else to go

Why?

Because I got a broken soul, and I’m alone

I can’t control myself

Because I feel alone and there’s no set or tone

Verse 2:

I can’t control my mind

My thoughts let go because they flow, And they shower like bullets in the rain, I understand my pain

My broken soul grabs hold of me

Why?

Because I’m trying to act like a wannabe

2x Chorus:

I got a broken soul

And I got no hope

My demons are not letting me cope

All the hope I had is lost

I thought I believed in God

And I pray for a new day

That’s why I try to rap my pain away

Verse 3:

I’m misunderstood

They think I’m up to no good

I feel like no one likes me

They say things about me before they get to know me

It’s a shame

I have a lot of pain

No one relates to my game

I’m insane with game and pain

‘cause it’s all the same in my mind

I’m alone with a broken heart

I have no marks of death inside my head

I carry the cross on my chest and

When the day comes for my pain to end

I’ll take that cross and put it in my grave

I’ll try to move on

Why?

Because I got a broken soul

2x Chorus:

I got a broken soul

And I don’t care if I die broke

Because I’ve lived a life of pain

And if my pain continues, then that’s my fight

My enemies are cowards

They are afraid when I rap about the devil

And if they fight me

I’ll show the demon inside of me

Why?

Because I got a broken soul

Outro:

Yeah, I got a broken soul

And I don’t care if my enemies hurt me

As long as they don’t hurt my friends

Then I’ll be there until the end

I Ain’t the Lazy Boy

Ethan G.

Me? A lazy person? I’ve always been told that I’m kind of a lazy person. I’m not sure if I’m lazy. Once I’m finished with my responsibilities like chores and homework, I will unplug the controller and start playing video games. I probably get an hour or two of playtime till my mom asks me, “Did you finish your homework?” or “Have you finished all of your chores?” I respond with, “Yes, I have” but whenever I hear my mom ask these questions, I can hear a different tone in her voice; a mix of disappointment and upset. I can just tell from her tone that she does not like what I am doing with my life. It sounds like she wants me to do something more than just play video games. She always expects me to do good in school, participate in school activities, and do something productive like studying for an upcoming test or reading a book. Since my mom is a hard worker, I understand where these feelings are coming from. Though I feel like I am a hard worker as well, I don’t think that is what my mother sees.

I believe I am a hard worker because I always try my best to get A’s in my classes. If I get a B, I try to reach that A. The thing about this semester is that I am struggling with some of the classes I have been given. My photography and algebra one classes are relatively easy as long as I pay attention. I really enjoy my photography class and I’m not sure if I like algebra but as long as I pass with an A, it doesn’t really matter. However, my ethnic studies and biology classes are a different story.

In my ethnic studies class, I struggle to pay attention because I have to write a lot in this class. It is not the teacher’s fault since they are supportive and are there to help me if I need it. It is just that writing bores me so it is hard for me to pay attention. This has caused me to have a C in the class. Also, in this class, I have to analyze an image and explain the message behind which I find difficult since they look like ordinary pictures to me. Some of these images are very complex and you have to look very carefully at all the tiny details like facial expressions, postures, clothes, the setting, the filter, etc. I’m not sure why I am having so much trouble with this. Could it be the subject? It could possibly be that this class requires you to be creative and that is something I am not good at (even though my tutor says writing this is being creative). I guess these are the reasons why I have a low grade. Then there is my biology class. I’m not going to say much besides the fact that though I pay attention in class, I still manage to have a C. I mention this because I believe that you can’t get a good grade in class without paying attention. I just don’t understand why this is not the case. Hopefully, the next

few assignments will boost my grade to a B. I know that these may not seem like bad grades to you but to my mom, it is just the same as an F. Even with a B, she still gets a little disappointed that I couldn’t get an A.

My current grades tie back to me being called lazy. I may not be the best in my classes, but I will always try my best. I want to truly prove that I am a hard worker through the effort I put into my classes.

Sun Rays in a Bubbly Mind

Rubix

My parents originally wanted to call me Rodrixia since my father’s name is Rodrigo, but they landed on Ruryx.

Not Rubix like the cube, but trust me

I get that a lot.

I am a curly-headed loud Mexican with low self-esteem. I love electric guitars but can’t play them.

I cry for people who don’t deserve my tears, even after they’ve hurt me. Can you tell I’m emotionally attached?

Sometimes I shed so many tears it feels like I am drowning in my own thoughts.

Drowning, except you know how to swim.

The current is just too strong to stay afloat anymore. My emotions feel like waves crashing me down.

They say if you make a wish on a dandelion, it will come true I wonder if my wish will come true

The wish I would make every single time I saw a dandelion

“I wish for him to find a happy family with love.”

I blow my wishes away and hope for them to come true.

He was the man I loved most.

His name is Rodrigo, just like my father

Maybe he was the better Rodrigo

The non-alcoholic, younger one who knew how to take care of a child.

The memories of him are a blur but sometimes so clear, like sun rays on a cloudy day.

So many memories of him and our happiness, He tossed that love away and turned it into pain

My two dads, the barber who always did my hair, my babysitter left me feeling alone without them I want them back

Without them, I felt like the moon on a starless night I feel out of place.

I’m so lost, like a needle in a haystack.

To feel like I don’t belong. It feels like I’m about to fall down a steep hill, The wheel never stops. I’m scared of my own thoughts

There are too many bubbles in my mind, and they all just pile up in my head.

Sometimes those thoughts make me shed tears, Too many tears

So many tears they can even fill up an entire lake.

I lay in the lake, drowning in my thoughts, until darkness appears. So peaceful, as if I am floating instead of drowning.

I have always found it difficult to pick between flowers

Do I pick the mimosa or the orchids?

They are both so beautiful, and I can’t pick.

Liking a girl rather than a boy

Why is it so hard for me to pick one?

What is wrong with me?

I know who I am.

I am not proud.

I want to pick the right flower that’ll make “society” says it is the best, But the best for society could end up being my misery.

I’m still learning to love myself, which takes time, It’s hard to love myself when the only thing I care about is society.

Society makes me question if I look fat or if my arms look too long.

I honestly wouldn’t care about anyone’s opinion if it weren’t for my mom.

She’s the only reason I care.

Now that I think of it,

Most of the things I do are to make her happy.

I feel like I owe her so much after she carried me for seven months.

I should do everything she tells me to do after all that pain I’ve given her.

I love her so much, but sometimes

She makes me feel like the world’s weight is on my shoulders.

She makes everything dull and meaningless to me.

Life becomes a chore that I don’t want to participate in.

It’s crazy how one person can make you feel this much pain.

My Secret Shadow

Alondra L.

I’m known as the confident girl who shines brighter than “Normal people.”

I get told that I’m beautiful, unique, pitiful, and obsessed with myself. That my eyeliner is bipolar but always comes out perfect. When I’m complimented, I feel unstoppable. Although it makes me feel great, in reality, I don’t. I always feel like I’m carrying a boulder everyday. The pressure that builds up just to live the same expectations. Compliments.

But what if they’re lying Is it all a lie?

Am I actually beautiful? Stressing, Stressed.

Overthinking the same thing until I feel horrendous. I question why I’m like this and think of reasons “Why?”

I think I remember why.

It could be the fact that I did not have a male role model That made me feel welcomed.

The man that made me feel like a mistake once he left. You know what? That’s not a “man.”

I might not know the main reason why, But I know I’m one.

I knew this because once I heard this man use my name in a conversation. It was like a volcano erupting.

Although it was like I could not move due to the aggression, I do not think I liked it at all.

It was traumatizing.

Tears flooded as if I were drowning in the deep end of the pool. I wish I could stop remembering this.

It makes me angry at myself for asking, “Why didn’t you do anything?”

Could it be because the man’s muscles warmed me as a child? Did I really not know what was happening at the time?

Such a selfish child.

I get scared that I may be him one day. I don’t want to abandon.

I don’t want to hurt anyone.

I want to let my conscience loose and commit to my own family.

It sucks a lot that he named me. This must be why I don’t like my name Alo.

Alo.

A very unique name to hear, I guess.

I recently discovered that Alondra means “helper and defender of mankind” in Spanish.

I strongly agree with that statement.

I consider myself a helper or “guardian angel.”

I usually come out strong, helping others and listening to them before me.

No one really knows me or my past.

Well, actually, only this one guy.

Someone I called a brother.

He was my first “real friend.”

He had his ears wide open and let me in with his twig arms.

The strong grip of his arms when he held me close.

The warmth of his body against mine was exquisite

As if I were safe.

Lastly, that sweet cologne that I can never forget.

I wish I did not see his dark purple aura surrounding him.

It felt as If I were trapped in a small box alone.

Of course, I couldn’t breathe. I was suffocating.

No one got to know the real him.

No one found out how alone he makes you feel.

It’s stupid how an immature boy can make you feel so useless.

But anyway,

My name is Alo.

This might sound silly, but I am 4’11.

I came from a messed up family but,

I still managed to survive.

I managed to learn and be a bigger person.

I managed to figure out what I want to do.

I managed to inspire.

Love, plan, and be wise.

I’m going to help those young minds in the future.

I’m sure of it.

I’ll tell them that they are not alone.

I’ll write for them worldwide (hopefully),

Talking about my own life experiences.

I will commit to my future family and give them what I have lost.

I will not be that “man,” and I will not accept a “man” like him.

I will comfort, show affection, and be delicate to the younglings I will have one day.

Not just the one from my own womb but,

The ones who have suffered from others. Not everyone always knows the secret shadow behind a person.

Existing for Me

Poem of My Life

D.M.H

My life has been rough

I don’t think I have been through enough

To understand my past

I forgot how to smile and laugh

I wish I could forget about my past

But it comes back like a boomerang

It comes back fast

I wish I could forgive my past and respect my actions

But it’s not a film or an act

I wish I could react but I can’t

I don’t have emotions that are showing

But inside my mind

It isn’t kind

It’s filled with rage and anger

I’m a caged beast waiting for my freedom

When my thoughts come into my mind

I feel like I’m lost without a cause

Inside my mind, I can barely keep up with the good times

My demons try to stop me from coping

I’m not showing my fear

Because I can make them disappear

My enemies are trying to make me feel low

Yet I am the one in control

I ain’t got no haters because I push them away

When I play rock, paper, scissors

I’m not a hater

I’m just a player

My mind always plays tricks on me

My demons try to get me

But I fight back with the blade

And carry a pair of shades

So the demonic blood won’t get on my face

Because it is a game of chase

A cat and mouse race

But I’m not here to play

I know my friends care about me

But sometimes, I want to be alone

My thoughts tell my mind to change my attitude

But if I do, I would be picked on and be screwed

I don’t trust easily

My demons, they are controlling me

But if I resist, that’s a fight I’ll take to my grave

Screw the demons inside my head and brain

I am never going to lose if I had to choose

My style of rapping and writing is different from what you may think

I would rather be truthful, prolific, and poetic

Than psychotic and rambunctious

When I rap, I hear the sounds of my pain

When I’m in bed, hiding the tears from my peers

I never steer away from my pain

Because the fire has risen in front of my face

I try to run, but I’m running in circles

My thoughts are changing

My mind is racing

I’m trying to be steady

My rhymes are hard and heavy

I’m not rapping for fun

I’m rapping about my stuff

My road is more complicated and curvy than smooth and steady

Sometimes I regret things I did in the past

But I move on and forget about that

I feel that I’m rushing my life

I regret taking time away from my life

I regret losing friends and making enemies

When my day of departure comes

Nothing will matter to me

Except for my regrets, my mind, my thoughts,

And everything that was a struggle

This won’t be the first or last time I’ll talk about my life

And one thing I’ll remember

Are the greatest moments of my life:

Spending time with my friends and family

Who were a part of the journey I have been struggling so much on

Always remember that friends come and go, but the ones you are close with will never leave your side. Family will be there if the road gets tough, or when you are struggling. They will always have your back even when you least expect it. How do I know this?

I’ve seen it, and I wouldn’t trade them for anything the world has to offer.

You Are More Than Marely N.

Social media influences me when thinking about what to post. Before I post on Instagram, I anticipate what people are going to think. I have thoughts like, “What if I look weird in this picture?” And it is all because I care about what others have to say about me, and I wonder if they might not like what I post. I don’t want anyone to say or think negatively about me. My social anxiety kicks in, and I’m scared that people will judge me for what I’m posting and doing.

Just a year ago, I met Brian. My brother brought his friends over, including Brian, to our house. At first, I did not think about him because I liked someone else. My sisters kept telling me, “That boy is for you,” and making fun of me because they knew the type of people I was attracted to. I ignored their comments. A couple of months later, I wanted Brian to notice me because after getting to know him, I began to develop feelings. I really liked him, and I thought we could have been something, but he was occupied with someone else. I wanted him to notice me because online, I always see beautiful girls getting attention because of how pretty they are, and I wished I was them because I wanted that attention too.

I am conscious about how I look because of the types of girls Brian follows. This affected me because it lowered my self-esteem. I compared myself to other girls’ appearances because I really wanted to be liked by him. No one should ever do this because everyone is different. Everyone is special. Everyone likes different things, and that is what makes them unique. I started to lose feelings for Brian, and I eventually moved on, focusing on myself, looking at girls doing their makeup to try to learn. I learned that it’s important to love yourself and not think of yourself as less than others. It’s important to love yourself because if you do, you won’t care what other people think.

Two Personalities, One Life

Silla

People might think of me as funny, quiet, generous, and adventurous. Probably because I enjoy going outside and walking to Downtown, movie theaters, parks, and so on. I love it when I feel the wind hit my face and look at the many things around me as I walk around freely. However, people I know online may think I am chaotic, friendly, mature, and dumb. To people I know online, half of the time, I’m obnoxiously loud. Occasionally, when we play video games, I’ll often yell out a joke over text or call and even to random people to have a good laugh from it. Knowing myself and the differences and similarities between how I act in real life and online is something I’ve recently been wondering about.

A similarity between how I portray myself in real life and online is how funny I am. I make amusing jokes to people I know and say random things when there’s silence. The other day, my friend and I were doing a frog dissection for biology, and I said in the silent room, “I better close my mouth before a fly comes out of its stomach and flies into it.” Since I’m perceptive, I can respond creatively to those around me.

A difference I’ve noticed is that I’m more confident online and talkative. Though in person I do talk, online I tend to speak more, and I’m comfortable saying whatever is on my mind. I enjoy sharing details about myself online more than I do in person. Perhaps it’s because I’m more comfortable and confident online since people can’t really see me.

Another similarity is that I am friendly when talking to others in person and online. Usually, I’d look around to find someone to talk to about what’s happening around us. We’ll talk about our musical tastes or interests. Often, I become friends with them or acquaintances.

A difference that stuck out to me was how calm I am in real life. Whenever I’m online, it’s usually to have fun and be carefree, meaning I’m more energetic. On the other hand, in real life, I am calmer and quiet when I’m not playing around. I tend to be in my own headspace, thinking peacefully and listening to my upbeat or sometimes soft music.

Seeing how my personality is in real life versus online is a bit of a shocker. It’s surprising to know that people can be one version of themselves in real life but a different version online. However, in my case, I think both of my personalities are the same yet different at the same time.

Why I Dyed My Hair Black Destiny

V.

It all started when I saw short 4 ‘11 morenas that looked like they’d been in the sun for too long, with long, straight, black hair, a small nose, plump lips, and a skinny figure in public. I think to myself, “They’re better than me.” I’m an average-height guerita whose family holds up a piece of white paper and says, “what are you doing here?” I have short, wavy, brown hair but I dyed it black recently. I have a wide nose with a small lump, thin lips, and a chubby figure and face.

I dyed my hair black because I think girls with black hair look prettier. I want to be beautiful like other girls. That is why I dyed my hair black. I wake up around 4:30 AM to straighten my wavy hair. When I do this, I think to myself, “I wish I didn’t have to do this. I’m so tired.” When I go shopping, I look for tight shirts and mid/low-waisted jeans because I want to fit into them when I lose weight. I usually look for baggy and oversized clothes so I can hide my “fat” or “chubbiness” from my body. I sometimes don’t feel confident with myself, and I hate my appearance.

When I was younger, I didn’t worry about my looks. I was happier with myself and in general. I would wear my Pro Club sweats with a comfortable crop top and feel like the prettiest girl ever. It’s okay to have bad days. On my bad days, I ignore everyone, take time for myself, and sleep. Sometimes, I fall asleep with my AirPods listening to Jhene Aiko. When I listen to Jhene Aiko, I start to calm down because of her voice and the beats of her music. They are soothing, and her lyrics are most of the time relatable. Even if I don’t feel it, I’m always beautiful the way I am. Everyone is beautiful in their own different way. You should celebrate your unique beauty because we are all made differently. Your brown curly hair and green eyes are beautiful. Everything you’re insecure about is beautiful, and you should acknowledge that.

Hidden Behind the Purple Mask

Lena

I like to think people know me well, but does anyone actually know “me”? Everyone thinks they do, but what they know is only the mask I wear. The mask likes to morph into what it believes people see me as. It has taken on many shapes throughout the years since kindergarten. The golden child everyone believed would get into university or college. The troubled child with a vast imagination, not at all in reality. The young teen who is just seen as an embarrassment. As told by their own father.

The mask has its perks at times. It hides how I feel when I’m a puppet in the hands of faith and destiny. Does it hurt?

Not really. It only hurts when people see through the mask and ignore my real face, my real feelings.

For years under the mask, I have craved validation and praise from those close to me.

They ask why They wonder why They question why I can never give them an answer. I can only apologize, believing I annoyed them. I say I’m sorry. I tell them I’m sorry. Then they ask why I apologized, and I start to feel the sun melt me like ice cream.

My face glows red, my eyes become a waterfall blocked with rocks, and I feel the earth shake, ready to swallow me whole.

It makes me remember the disappointment I felt at the end of eighth grade

It had only been the last school year, and I worked hard to get all good grades so I could walk the stage to graduate from middle to high school. For a small moment, I felt joy. I felt pride. I could feel the mask start to crack. It all crashed in a second when I went to my parents, ready to feel praise and validation at last.

My heart shattered. I felt the mask grow tougher and heavier as I heard the words they told me.

“Good job”

Alone it sounds good, but the tone sounded as if they didn’t mean it.

There was no “ We’re so proud!” “Congratulations!” or Even a tone of happiness and excitement.

It just felt dull and empty.

I stayed after school to get extra help with assignments.

At first, I hated it. I did not want a teacher’s help

“I didn’t need her,” I thought

“I don’t want her help,” I said.

“I can do it myself,” I wished.

I was like a wild cat when she first saw me come to the class.

I stayed away from everyone.

I tried working alone, turning down her help until I snapped at her

The mask tightened on my face as I started to break down

She understood me when she saw my three stages of stress and pain

Stage one was a high voice yelling and a red face glowing. Stage two turned into tears and being unable to speak, only able to say cruel things. Stage three was the worst of them all as I gasped for air, trying to yell only to be met with a noise

Hic, Hic, Hic.

Few words get out until it blocks my voice, and I break down in tears

After that day, she understood the pressure built inside me.

She saw the mask I wore to protect myself.

As time went on, she and I began to understand each other,

And together I made my goal for once.

I was golden, a star in the sky, and it felt amazing.

Many saw my cry of pain but ignored it, believing I did it for attention, Making the flame within burn hotter than the sun.

With this flame growing hotter, the mask grew stronger, and my imagination was the only way to escape in those moments.

I used it to die down the fire with the mask’s control.

There had been others in my life that understood it like my teacher did Ms.Valerie had been one of those people, but like the wind, they come and go.

Hi, I’m a Libra, one of the most creative air signs. I guess you can say the creative part is true, but supposedly great at launching new initiatives. Now that doesn’t really sound like me, nor does being among the best leaders in the zodiac.

I’m not a very good leader.

Some say I act like a Capricorn, whatever that means I do believe that sometimes I was just born in the wrong year Does it really matter?

To some, it does, but not to me.

What does it matter if I’m an Aries, Taurus, Gemini, Cancer, Leo, Virgo, Libra, Scorpio, Sagittarius, Capricorn, Aquarius, or Pisces

I am who I am without a silly star sign telling me how to be and who I should be.

Everyone is their own person.

Everyone has their own mask.

The only difference between us all is some have already broken the mask.

My mask is still here, but it has broken some ever since I poured my heart out.

But I am happy and free.

I am me.

Who Am I (What’s My Identity?)

D.M.H

(A rap to the beat of “4 Your Eyez Only” by J. Cole)

Intro:

Who am I? I don’t know who I am or what’s my identity.

Verse One:

Who am I?

I try to think maybe I’m somebody else

My mind is racing and I try to put my thoughts in slow motion

I try to focus on myself but instead, I think that I’m not good for anybody else

I try to stay in motion and I feel that I’m joking

I want to be dope and cool but it’s the wrong rule,

My whole life I’ve been trying to be myself but I’ve been stuck in the deep end

Trying to reach the surface to find my true self and identity

But every time I do, it doesn’t feel like me

2x Chorus:

I’ve been trying to fit in for most of my life

I’ve been trying to fit in

But instead, I’ve been acting like everyone else

Sometimes I wish I was me

Verse 2:

Sometimes I wish I could change everything

That happened to me since my childhood

So I could be myself for once

When I remember my past

There’s always a message behind each memory

Sometimes I wish I could be me

And forget about trying to be like everyone else

My life was a struggle

And fitting in was my security bubble

I had friends at a young age

But I was also bullied

I fought my own battles in elementary

And I didn’t need psychiatry

I defended myself and my friends since then

But after 2019, I was isolated and unknown

I forgot who I was and my identity,

At 13, I was known as “Deazy D”

The freestyler rebel without a care

I made and lost some homies and enemies

I had beef with an old friend

In ninth grade before RHS

I was going through issues I couldn’t decompress, I wanted to end my rap thing

But instead, I went back so I could do my own thing

Instead of rapping about gangs

I started rapping about my pain

Then back in September, I remember

I came to RHS with scars and wounds

I was new in the area and I had ADHD so it was a win, Since then, I made friends

I was afraid they were going to judge or despise me

But instead, they supported me

And now I’ve realized that I have been myself the whole time and I like it

2x Chorus:

I’ve been trying to fit in for most of my life

I’ve been trying to fit in

But instead, I’ve been acting like everyone else

Sometimes I wish I was me

And I thank my friends and enemies for bringing back the old me

Outro:

Yeah I know who I am

I’m D.M.H III

The Montebello rebel and the Boyle Heights ally

And I’m not going to let anybody change me

Because the only person who can change me is me

And I won’t change even if it hurts me

Music Definitions

Chris HP.

Ever since I was a little kid, I’ve always had a strong connection with music because of my parents and grandparents. I grew up hearing music every day. My love of music mostly came from my grandpa. He would always blast music for everyone to hear. Instead of playing video games, I would spend my free time watching my grandpa play his instruments. He would play a lot of different instruments like the guitar, accordion, saxophone, and cello.

I found it really cool and interesting how instruments make sounds, especially any type of wind instrument. Every time I hear cumbias, I listen to all the instruments and find out their beat or flow. I enjoyed doing this because I could distinguish the different instruments that were being played and their rhythm.

As I got older, I started learning how to play instruments. I’ve learned how to play the trombone, clarinet, saxophone, flute, and guitar. When I hear a song with any of these instruments, I have the urge to learn the song just by hearing the beat, and I would challenge myself to see if I can get the song right without viewing a tutorial to learn the song.

Music has also been helping me through rough times. When I am mad or frustrated, listening to music would help me relax. Sometimes, I would listen to music while going on runs to unwind. Even when I am feeling sad, music always finds a way to cheer me up and help me process my feelings. The time that music helped me most was when my girlfriend broke up with me. She broke up with me out of nowhere and through text messages instead of telling me in person. I was very depressed, laying in bed almost all the time. But sad music helped me process my sadness. A specific lyric that spoke to me was, “It really hurts that you are no longer with me and you are with someone else.” Listening to these sad lyrics helped me because it felt like the artist related to my feelings and situation. I found an empathetic friend in music that day. Music helps me in every mood I’m feeling, and it has motivated me to do my best.

Another example of a time music has impacted my life was when I started to play guitar. I’ve been made fun of about my guitar-playing ability. Many people have told me that I can’t play or that I should give up. On some occasions, this has made me sad and disappointed in myself because I always work hard to show the world what I can do. It has made me feel like the whole world is against me, but I always remember these lyrics to inspire me, “They said that I was not going to make it, and now everyone is silent so they watch what the kid brings”. These lyrics have motivated me to always push through the negativity, be proud of myself, and not

focus on what bullies say. It makes me happy knowing how anything can be possible as long as you never let yourself be demotivated by people that dislike you.

What’s My Purpose

Kevin H.

My name is Kevin, and I am a student-athlete and leader. Throughout the school year I’ve met new people and done things I did not know I was capable of, which has changed my perspective on school. It made me realize that I want to be a leader not only at school but in my community as well. I will do so by becoming a math teacher and school counselor at Roosevelt High School.

As a Mexican-American first-generation student who values the importance of commitment and collaboration, my purpose in life is to become a high school math teacher that is not only able to communicate with students but understand them as well. It may be hard for many students to speak up and ask questions, but I want them to feel comfortable in class. I may be the teacher, but the class is ours, and we all have an input on what is happening. Throughout all my years in school, I have had the honor to meet such incredible teachers who have pushed me and given me that sense of direction and purpose. I had not always known what I wanted to be when I grew up until I met my Jaime Escalante Program teacher, Mr. Ibarra. His understanding and overall good mood stuck with me after taking his class. Not every teacher may be excited to teach during the summer, but he motivated me and made me enjoy geometry. Before taking the class, I was scared and unsure if I could handle it, but he helped me understand it. I had countless questions, but not once did he seem annoyed by it. I told him about my passion for math and becoming a teacher; he even called me “Professor.”

Not every student enjoys math, so becoming a teacher that could change their perspectives is my goal. I’ve always loved math since elementary school, so having the experience of meeting teachers that went to my dream universities and pushed through such tough times but still managed to accomplish their goals opened my eyes. I want my students to feel like how I felt in middle school. I want them to work even harder than I have. I have always worked hard in school and excelled in all my classes, but I want my students to want more. I want to give my students the extra support that not all students may get. I want to be “that” teacher. The teacher that students look for and remember even after high school. I understand that a leader has many traits, and many people see a leader differently. Still, I would consider myself very open-minded and understanding of others and how they may feel.

I am also very determined, whether it’s school or non-school related.

If I have a goal, I will do anything to reach it. I’ve learned through past experiences that time and patience play a significant factor when achieving a goal. Not everything will go my way, so being able to understand that allows me to see situations differently and ultimately find a different route. It may not be the route I want to go on, but taking that route is important. Change isn’t always the best, but adapting to it shapes the person I will become. I’ve had the experience of taking leadership roles in and out of school.

A leader may be in a family or friend group or however, you see it. I have always told my friends to focus on school and not feel pressured to do anything they would not want to do, so much so that in elementary school, I was recommended to be on the student council team. I felt so right in that space, talking about what we could change in our school or improve on. Becoming a leader is not a new idea to me. It does not scare me or frighten me. It’s different in high school, but I know I can do much more. I want to inspire others and make a difference. Although there may be times when I have no motivation, I know I have to reach my goals, not only for myself but for the people around me. I’ve always been told that education is key. I want to be able to do what my parents couldn’t. They are my biggest inspiration. Without them, I wouldn’t be where I am today. Being a leader does not necessarily mean being number one or the biggest or strongest person. A leader appears in many different ways. People just have to find that person or group that changes their perspective. I wish to be that person that changes someone’s perspective.

My biggest obstacle was being bullied by a kid that disliked me for no real reason. I ignored it, but it turned into something that was not as easily ignorable as before. I talked about it to an adult at my school. I felt vulnerable and like a “snitch,” but I knew I was doing the right thing. The adult told me that the kid was most likely bullying me out of jealousy. I did not believe it, but I started to think about it. I had everything he wished for. Determination, courage, intelligence, and respect were all things he did not have. That adult talked to the other student, and I will never know what exactly she told him, but he changed. That student had one adult change his ways, and I hope I will be that one person who can make a change in a student, partner, or anyone that may just need some support.

From Me To You

I Love You

Dayami M.

Dear family,

I love you, and I know you guys love me. We’ve been through ups and downs, but we are still here for each other. I enjoy the times we all go out to eat on our birthdays or just hang out together. The birthday I remember is my 14th birthday. It was not a big party. It was just us going to Shakey’s. I like it when I get to be with my dad on the weekend for a few hours. I try not to waste time so we can spend every minute together. I always get to accompany my mom in doing errands to the store. Since I’m the youngest, I almost always have to go with her. I remember when my brother and I played soccer together in the front yard. Too bad we moved out and no longer have a good yard anymore. Now it is small, and there is little room to play soccer.

Someone I adore is my 12-year-old little cousin, who I find to be my favorite person in the world. She is like a little sister that I could never have. I try to be the best cousin by buying her things she likes and just loving her. My grandparents from my mom’s side are kind and care about me. My cousin and I sometimes need to help our grandma with her phone because she does not understand. She rewards us with money, which makes us wonder where she gets all that money from. They are those types of neighbors that like to give and receive. They always offer me food even when I’m already full. I just wanted to say that my family is very important to me.

Sincerely y con amor,

Dayami

To The Beautiful Angel in Heaven

Andrea C.

Dear Laura,

I remember the day I found out you were in the hospital. I remember what I felt and what I knew. I knew from that day on, you were going to suffer. I remember the first day I saw you at the hospital, my chest tightened, and my body went numb. Who I saw was not the Laura I knew. She was not the girl I met in the fourth grade. The girl I met in the fourth grade wore baggy clothes, her hair was long, and she never cared for what shoes you had on. You were the girl who I shared every laugh and cry with. Laura, you were a girl with the biggest heart. You put everyone’s happiness before your own, including mine.

As weeks went by, you got worse before you got better. No one knew what happened to you and what caused it. You went to sleep and never fully woke up. December 20 passed by, and you spent your fifteenth birthday in a bed, unaware of who was there with you. I remember the days we used to talk about our fifteenths. You wanted a blue dress, and you wanted butterflies everywhere. Seeing you in a bed unconscious was a pain I’ll never forget. New Year’s Eve came by, you opened your eyes, and you did get better at some point. One day, I found out there was a possibility you were not going to make it.

My mind went blank, my stomach turned, and I cried. I cried till I could not breathe. It was a panic attack. My mom had to walk me to school the next day because I could not be alone. I needed someone by my side. I needed you. Depression, it was there, and it got worse. I did not want to eat, I did not want to sleep, and I did not want to be alive. More weeks went by, and you remained in the hospital. Then, on January 15, the doctor said something no one would ever want to hear, the best thing they could do was unplug you. Once again, my body went numb, except it was not the same numbness. It was different and worse. For the next few days, the feeling remained there.

January 17: I woke up, and I got ready for school. I went to school, but only until advisory, and then my mom picked me up. Despite all the opportunities I had, I was never able to say goodbye, but I had to. I stayed with you until my basketball game that day. I played the game for you.

January 18: You passed. My mom was there when you passed. You looked so peaceful. I could not bear to see you go, so I left with my dad. We waited outside until my mom came out of the hospital. When she told me the news

and at that moment, I did not realize I had lost someone so important to me. When we got home, I asked my mom, “Why? Why was it you?” I cried until I slept.

February 17: The day before your funeral, your viewing was hard. You did not look like the Laura I knew. You were not Laura without your glasses. You always had a natural face. They had done your makeup, which I thought was odd. I could not remember how your hair was styled. You were wearing a blue dress and had jewelry on with blue butterflies. Never did I imagine wearing a shirt with your face to remember you. I see it in my drawers, and I do not accept it.

February 18: I was numb. They gave your family the opportunity for everyone who wanted to say their last goodbyes. You were home, but not in the way anyone expected. It was the first time I was at your house since you had passed. I said my goodbyes, and then it hit me hard. I could not see you alone, so my mom joined me, and I told you my last words. Your family and friends cried. It was almost time. You were taken to the church, then to the cemetery—the number of people who loved you, Laura. I have never seen more people in one space before. There were doves, music was played, the music that was supposed to be played at your fifteenth party, and there were red roses. The roses were going to be placed on your casket. Then it was time. I didn’t cry until your coffin was lowered into the dirt. I was hit by pain.

The pain was stronger than I had ever realized. I lost my best friend. I had lost a sister. There are five stages of grief—denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. I went through denial, anger, bargaining, and depression, but never acceptance. Denial, I will never accept that you passed because to me, you still go to school, you´re still on the cheerleading team, and to me, you´re still alive. I´m still grieving, Laura. I know you are not suffering anymore, but I am angry. I was mad about why you passed. I was mad because I never understood why you were taken away. Bargaining, I regretted everything I did. I regretted not seeing you the night you came to my house when you came to drop off the shirts my mom had bought to support the cheerleading team. I did not know you were there. I was in bed, exhausted from cross-country practice. I regret not getting up, even to say hi. Depression hit me the most. Laura, I did not want to be alive. I wanted to be with you. Therapy helped me understand that doing something to myself would not bring you back. If it were not for therapy, I would’ve been worse than I am now. As much as I hurt, I know you would not have wanted me to hurt myself. I think of you every day, Laura, every single day. I listen to music that reminds me of you. As much as I can not accept you’re gone, it will hit me in moments when I won’t see you.

It’s been three months since I saw you sink into the dirt. I visit your grave every Sunday and wish you were here. I’m still grieving, but grief isn’t linear. I experienced denial and was doing better, but I´m back at phase one. I miss you so much, and it

feels like it just happened yesterday. I loved you so much, Laura. You were the best thing that ever happened to me. I thank you for every moment we spent together, every laugh, and every cry. One day, we´ll see each other again. In the meantime, I’ll do it for us. I will continue to work as hard as I do in my academics, graduate high school with honors, and when I am a senior, my letterman jacket will represent you and what I´ve done. I will continue to visit your grave, bring you flowers as beautiful as you were, and live the moments I have there with you.

Sincerely,

Andrea

To those reading this letter, Laura was a cheerleader. Laura was the most intelligent girl I knew. She was a part of the honor roll. Laura loved math, music, sunsets, boba, acai bowls, and animals, especially her dog Marshmallow, and her cat Kitty. She loved laughing and making others laugh as well. She had dark brown hair, beautiful brown eyes, and a smile filled with love!

Thank You

Christopher R.

Dear Dad,

I just wanted to express my deepest gratitude for all that you have done for me throughout my life. It’s difficult to articulate just how much you mean to me, but I’ll do my best.

First of all, thank you for all the sacrifices you have made for me, your loving wife, and my wonderful sisters. I know that it was not always easy to work long hours in that restaurant to ensure that we had everything we needed, but you did it without complaint, regardless if it was affecting your health. Your endless dedication and hard work have shown me what it means to provide for your family, and I am so grateful for your efforts.

Furthermore, thank you for always being there for me, even when we were physically apart. You have always been just a phone call away, ready to lend an ear and offer advice whenever I needed it. Your unwavering support helped me through some of the most challenging times in my life, which was when I had eye surgery and felt the most alone in my life, but you were there for me. You stopped going to work, which is a big deal for you, so you can be there for me to support me, and I can’t thank you enough.

Thank you also for being such an incredible role model. You have taught me so much about what it means to be a man, from showing respect to others, even those who don’t deserve it, to having a strong work ethic. Watching you accomplish so much with your determination and perseverance has inspired me to pursue my own dreams and never give up.

Most importantly, thank you for being my dad and best friend. Your love and support have given me the courage and confidence to face any challenge that comes my way. Knowing that I have you in my corner has always been a source of comfort and strength for me.

One day, I hope to be half as good a parent as you have been. Your kindness, wisdom, and unwavering support mean more to me than words can express. Thank you for being the most amazing dad in the world. I love you more than anything.

Sincerely, Your Son

Declaration of Love to My Buddies

Anonymous

My friends feel like home to me because of how they make me feel inside. Home is where you can feel comfortable, belong, have privacy, and have furniture such as beds or couches. Well, my friends are not furniture. My friends make me feel like I belong. I know I can rely on them. Whatever I tell them will stay with them. What is said in the group stays in the group. They always support me. I have paragraphs and hundreds of messages telling me how much they love me.

We have our little things and inside jokes. We also have a lot of memories together. We stay after school and explore. We joked that we almost got stuck in the tennis courts, just like those Youtube challenges where they get stuck for 24 hours in a Walmart. We have gotten lost Downtown twice. We went to the movie theater and spent 40 minutes waiting for the bus afterward.

Another reason my friends feel at home is that they make me feel special. They have an endearing nickname for me. They respect my time and try to find days where I can hang out with them without any conflict with my schedule. I even got a fake marriage with one of my friends for candy. Technically, we’ve been married for 112 days so far.

I’ve made many new friends while keeping the same friends from previous years. One of my friends was in the same reading group as me called “Big Brains.” However, we would not interact outside of the reading group. We only got to know each other because of a mutual friend. Never have I ever had someone listen to my rants before. I love how they never get annoyed with my rants after reading a book or watching a Youtube video. They never pretend to listen to my rants. They never make me feel bad when I have to explain my jokes.

The first time we ever hung out as a group was at the park, where we ate soggy pizza. I have also gone to Little Tokyo with them. We went to get SomiSomi. Later, there was a painting session at the store where we bought a present for a friend’s dad. It was there that they discovered how horrible I was at painting. One of my friends had to leave afterward, so my other friend and I explored for a while. Later, on our way back home, we forgot to get off the bus and ended up someplace different. We spent 20 minutes looking for the bus stop to take us back home because google maps led us the long way with a bunch of turns.

My friends make me look forward to going to school. I like seeing them in the hallways on my way to class. I no longer have to worry about feeling alone. My friends make sure I never feel left out. I feel more secure in the friendship since I no

longer have to worry about being left out. Being friends with them has taught me to be confident. They always hype me up and reassure me all the time. I love them so much.

Para Mi Idolo

Gordo

Tú llegaste muy joven a este país para un mejor futuro. Empezó lento pero por el tiempo, fuiste creciendo y aprendiendo. Luego conociste a mi madre. Mi abuelo no te quería porque tenías finta de cholo. Siempre tenías los pantalones caídos y las camisas hasta tus rodillas. Aunque todavía tienes esa ropa, ya no te vistes así porque cuanto te alistas, tienes finta de negociante.

Algo que me gusta de ti es que aunque sabías que mi madre ya tenía una hija, tú decidiste quedarte. Y te respeto en eso. Después en 2006, conociste a Nelly, la más inteligente de tus hijos, aunque eso es discutible. Yo digo esto porque hasta ella dice que yo voy a ser más inteligente y todavía tú no le crees. Tuviste un par de años a solas con ella antes de que yo llegara en 2008. El que te dio mas problemas. El que todos dijeron que no lo iba lograr. Ahora, me miran y ya no hablan porque tú creíste en mí. Tú creíste en mí cuando nadie más lo hizo. Tú creías en mí hasta cuando jugaba mal en béisbol o en baloncesto. Tú creíste en mí cuando me lastimé la mano jugando baloncesto y perdiendo casi toda la temporada. Tú creíste en mí cuando tuve malos grados. Tú siempre estabas allí. Estabas allí cuando los doctores me abrieron la cabeza cuando me operaron en mi infancia. Y por eso yo te quiero. Por esa razón, cuando hago un jonrón o incluso cuando estoy en la base, siempre juego para honrarte.

Ahora ya te va muy bien con carros del año, lentes de marca, y los zapatos que siempre has querido desde niño. Y por eso, tú eres mi motivación porque si tú lo hiciste con poco, yo lo puedo hacer con todo. Y aunque no he sido un hijo perfecto para ti, tú fuiste el mejor padre para mí.

Sinceramente, Gordo (Hector G.)

Jazzy and May

Mary D.

My best friend Jazzy has always felt like home to me when we are together. In sixth grade, we met in our P.E. class. She was friends with a girl named Lili, who was in the same class. I got along with Jazzy more than Lili. Jazzy and I just connected with each other from the start. Ever since the day we met, she has been on my side no matter what. I love making memories with her, like going to the park, running errands, getting food, and just being around her in general. I remember going to the pet store with her, and we saw a lot of fish, and it was really fun being with her because she was cracking jokes about them, like how they looked. She had said that a betta fish inside a small tank looked like me. I felt happy knowing that we both love fish because we each had a fish when we were small, so it connects to us.

I noticed that she felt like home to me when I felt comfortable doing and saying anything to her when I’m around her. One time when we went to the skate shop, I fell on the step as we were leaving, and I did not feel embarrassed because all I could focus on was her because of her laugh. It was like a snort. It felt like nothing else mattered but her. She never lets me feel out of place anywhere because she always introduces me to other people when we go out because she knows I do not like feeling left out at gatherings. I realized that you do not need a whole bunch of friends. You just need one person who will stick with you anywhere.

Home to me will always be a person instead of a house because home is what makes me feel happy and safe, and that is Jazzy. Jazzy and I went through ups and downs with each other, like when we both started getting distant and not talking like before because we were dealing with trying to get our grades up. We could not talk a lot since we did not go to the same school, but we always communicated with each other, like talking about why we could not hang out because we were busy with our lives and trying to focus on school. Even if we become distant, she will always be home to me because she is the only person who truly understands me and how I feel. This means that I can be myself around her, and I would never feel judged.

I hate meeting new people because it’s uncomfortable not knowing anything about them but meeting her made me feel better about myself and that everything is okay. If I never would have met Jazzy I would not be the person I am today because she changed my life and perspective of things. She is very special to me because I feel confident about myself when I’m with her, and she will always be my home to me.

Stan Twice

Lee M.

Music is a really beautiful way to express my feelings and a way to distract myself. I love music because no matter what’s happening, it keeps me going. Whenever I’m dealing with something stressful like finals or getting work done for my classes, music is always there to save the day. When I hear my favorite song, the upbeat sounds, and the beautiful singing it gives me a reason to focus or to try harder on what I’m doing.

We care so much about music because it is something that a lot of people love. Some of us use it to get through the day, to work harder, for fun, or even to make us feel better when we are down. It can also represent one’s culture, like how Banda represents Latinx culture.

My favorite music genre is K-pop. It distracts me when my family is being a bother, like when they upset me or I’m not feeling well about myself or my life. I like to watch K-pop performances through music videos and imagine myself at one of their concerts or as one of their backup dancers. Just seeing an idol dancing and singing helps me forget about my problems, and their music helps me focus on the good parts of life. It’s like Alice In Wonderland. She enters a world full of mystery when she falls into a hole in the ground. For me, it’s like that but with K-pop. I can escape reality and enter a world where nothing matters with happy, upbeat songs I love, although it might be only for a few minutes or even hours of a playlist. It still helps a lot because it helps me not worry about stuff.

It’s not just their music that helps me. It’s also their presence. The presence of an idol I’ve looked up to is truly an unforgettable experience, for example when I went to the Twice Pop-Up Store in LA and saw Twice for the first time, I did not know if I should be happy or cry because I finally got to meet them (I did both when Dahyun from Twice waved back). Another example is when I went to my first TXT concert, where I cried tears of joy over 10 times throughout the two-hour concert. In both of those times, I felt no worries in my life, as if nothing bad was happening to me. I felt loved, safe, happy, excited, and carefree from all the bad stuff that had happened so far. We care so much about music because it’s something a lot of us can call “Home”. It’s something we can use to get the break we need from this messed up world.

Have A Good Day/Evening/Night, and Stan Twice!

The Other Side

At the age of 19, my mom decided to come to the United States to have more opportunities for her and her family. Growing up as a Mexican-American in Boyle Heights, I have heard stories from my community and my family about how they have been discriminated by White folks telling them they are dirty and lazy Mexicans. Hearing my dad tell my mom, “Un güero con un auto bonito pasó todas en la fila. Estaba diciendo que le debían que lavar el carro rápido y que también estuviera bien porque él tenía un auto más bonito que los demás. Y yo le dije que no, porque se debe esperar. Luego él me llamó un sucio y tonto Mexicáno.”

When I was around seven years old, I started to understand why my mom never went to Mexico with me, my sister, and my dad. She would tell me, “Mijo, por que si yo voy para México, no puedo regresar.” She came from Culiacán, Sinaloa, which is about 800 miles away from the United States. She would also tell my sister and me how she crossed the border. She left Mexico with about $20, a gallon of water, and some fruit to eat. She paid someone to help her cross. She was the only person in her family who made the journey. About 100 miles before the border, she had to start walking. She told us how hot it was and that her toenails would break off. She had to sleep on the ground. When she heard the border patrol cars pass by, she would hide to not get caught and sent back. She was scared her journey so far would go down the drain. All she thought was, “When will I get there? When will I be passing the border?”. All she was thinking about was making it to the United States to have more opportunities for her and her family back in Culiacán with the money she would make working.

On her journey to the U.S., some people wanted to kidnap her. They had guns and she knew if she was caught they would most likely kill her and sell her body parts. My mom and the group she was with, ran away and escaped. I imagine she was really scared for her life. I imagine her heart was rushing, and she could hardly catch her breath. She probably wondered, “What will happen to me? What will happen if I die right now, alone?” She didn’t have any family around her; she was all alone on this dangerous journey and only had herself to rely on.

Hearing her story impacted me in a good and bad way. It hurt me to listen to the suffering and challenges my mom went through to arrive in the U.S. and provide herself and her family with better opportunities. However, according to her, this journey was worth it because she could give my siblings and me a life without the struggles she went through growing up.

My mom got a job at the Olive Garden soon after she arrived. She began working as a dishwasher and janitor, cleaning the restrooms and the dining rooms. Now she works at Applebee’s, where she’s a cook. She works from sunrise to sunset, comes home exhausted, and sleeps to do the same thing all over again the next day. Because of her, I have many opportunities, like having a great education and being able to attend College Track, an organization that helps prepare students to apply to college. I can learn about college while earning scholarship money by attending their weekly sessions. I plan to go to college, which makes me feel happy, and my mother feels proud of my accomplishments so far. Hopefully, when I grow older, I will get my dream job of being a Software or Civil engineer so I can take care of her, returning that favor.

My mother came to the United States with a dream of making money to support her family in Mexico. She didn’t come to the United States to be a “drug dealer” or to “be lazy at her job.” She came to make sure that her family back in Mexico, and now, my siblings and I as well, could have a better life. She made sure she put a roof over us, food on the table, and that we go to school so we could have the opportunity to choose the future we want. My mom’s sacrifices and her “echale ganas mijo y que Dios te bendiga” motivate me to do better each day. I hope to one day show her the fruits of her sacrifices through my future successes.

Pursuing My Ambition:

The Sadness and Happiness of Reaching the Next Door

Alexander G.

Leaving a place, especially one you’ve held dear to your heart, is never easy. It’s never easy to go ahead and abandon the opportunity to continue making those experiences you’ve cherished. Every memory at the Variety Boys & Girls Club has always started with me either stepping out of the car or walking down the street to face what I anticipated to be the best part of my day. The building stood out like a sore thumb, with its bright white and large facility opposed to the classic Mexican architecture of the area. Although it was huge and way bigger than I was, I was never intimidated by its grandeur.

As I pushed through the club doors, the cold wind swept across my face as I stepped inside. There was always a warm greeting at the front desk before I made my way up the stairs, down the hallway, and into the Media Center. The anticipation before entering through the door of the Media Center always consumed my heart. It felt like excitement mixed with uneasiness. Would I have a good day today? What’s going to happen? In retrospect, I have no idea what may have caused that one feeling of uneasiness. Perhaps I was too nervous or full of joy, but I know that every day I spent in the Media Center was never a bad day, even on boring ones. The “boring days” where I just talked and laughed with my friends for hours when we were supposed to work on art projects are probably the memories I love the most. The times when we messed around and got into a bit of havoc while working reminds me of the friendships I nurtured. The Boys & Girls Club is also where I learned a lot about art history with my friends and got exposed to many different types of art that inspired me. I will never forget Ms. Lulu’s effort and dedication to teaching us in the Media Center.

Films and art have played a significant part in my life. When I was younger, I would produce small narratives and constantly gain inspiration from TV shows and movies to create my own works. There is a special feeling when you realize that you can create something. It could be anything, and you could show it to anybody. It has the power to make an audience feel certain emotions, become connected to characters, and entertain them. The Variety Boys & Girls Club for the past five years has given me the opportunity to flourish and develop my skills and passions.They have never given up on me or any of their other students. Genuinely, without them, I would not be anywhere close to the person I am today. I will always consider the Variety Boys & Girls Club my second home in my heart, a part of who I am.

Parting ways with the club to further pursue my academics to follow my passion for becoming more involved in the arts was difficult. The club was a huge stepping stone for me and my future, and I will never forget or put aside the impact it had on me. It gave me a chance to grow. I give the biggest thanks and gratitude to everyone at the Variety Boys & Girls Club who has helped me get to where I am now, with a long road still ahead.

De Nuestros Hogares

The Journey For Freedom

D. Villa

The dominant narrative about immigrants brings a lot of controversy because it deals with people from another country coming into this country illegally in hopes of starting a new life. My mom is an example of this. My mother came to this country as a young girl who did not know what was happening. She was just a little girl who was living in the city of Tijuana with her dad. As you may know, Tijuana was not necessarily a good place at the time or now. It still isn’t, so my grandfather and mother had to leave. It was much easier to cross the border back then compared to now. My mom was brought over by using a cousin’s birth certificate. My mom’s sister crossed the same way, but she was much older and knew what was happening. She was nervous because she was scared she would get caught and arrested. My grandpa snuck through under the seats of the car, which is quite hellish if you really look at it because the border between Mexico and California is very humid and hot. He had to stay under there, laying down crunched up in a hot box for eight hours. Once they got to the States, they headed to Los Angeles with my grandma, who had been in the U.S. waiting for them, hoping they made it over the border safely.

My grandma’s story is a little different. My mom told me one day in Mexico, her mom told her she was going to go to the store real quick and to stay home. But my grandma never came back. She had crossed the border into the U.S., so my mom was now stuck with her dad, who knew her mom was not going to come back because they did not want to tell my mom she was not going to see her mom for a while. As you can see, my family had to come to the United States illegally because entering legally could take years and years. I feel proud of all the immigrants that made it over the border safely!

My mom had four kids, and I am the second oldest. Although she worked at a warehouse, she kept us in check by making sure we did well in school. She made sure we did our homework and turned it in on time. When I played first base in Little League, she pushed me to become a better player. She drove me to practice and encouraged me to have fun but also to be the best hitter I could be. She pitched to me, and since my dad was a baseball coach, she learned from him, but she grew up around baseball and passed on her knowledge. I’m grateful she’s my mom! She helped me feel confident. I’m very social, make friends easily, and never leave people out. When someone in school doesn’t know what’s happening in a classroom, I‘ll ask if I can help them and explain the assignment. I won’t leave until I’m sure the student is on a good path. I am who I am because of my mother. Due to my mom coming over, I was able to live a life full of opportunities. In the future, I hope to accomplish top grades in all my classes to secure a college education.

All Roads Lead Home

Idanya V.

Home is home. The place where time seems to stop, and it’s just you and your family. But family is not only people who are related to you. They can be people or animals who are by your side no matter what, like friends and pets. My family is made up of my mom, who makes sure I eat; my dad, who works hard to put a roof over our heads; my brother, who helps me with school; my lovely sister, who always makes sure I’m happy, and last but not least my little sister who can be annoying at times but she is my best friend.

Every day, my parents, the early birds, are up before the rooster can say, COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO. All of my siblings and I, on the other hand, are deep sleepers and we can practically sleep through an earthquake. Once we’re all awake, my sister helps my mom make breakfast. I make sure not to leave a single crumb behind. My mom then gets ready to go shopping to buy things she doesn’t need but surely wants like a new weight-loss device that she saw on Facebook. My dad goes off to do his side job and my brother goes to work as well. That leaves my sisters and I with the whole house to ourselves where we just hang out, chill, and tell jokes.

Being part of a family is not as easy as it seems. There are days when I wonder if the meals we have together and the laughter echoing through the house will disappear. With the rising prices of groceries, the overall cost of living together keeps getting more and more expensive. Recently, my family has been chopping up and packaging nopales to sell to make a little extra money for rent. This is sometimes exhausting and annoying since as soon as we get home and eat, my siblings and I go help our parents cut and package the nopales. I can tell we are all tired from school and work, but it’s better than being behind on rent and risking losing our house. I never imagined that we would ever get to this point. As a result of our situation, my parents now put a lot of pressure on my little sister and I to get good grades, go to college, and get a job that pays well. From my point of view, my little sister isn’t really worried since she is still in middle school. On the other hand, I feel very stressed and scared. I don’t know how to be independent and I struggle with being responsible both in and outside school. I can also be shy to the point where I forget what my parents want me to order when we order takeout. This really triggers me because I am scared to mess up so my anxiety goes through the roof. I have to try to order food all the while my parents are yelling at me saying, “¡Checa si agarrastes la orden correcta por que no quiero llegar a la casa y que me doy cuenta que no es lo que ordenamos!” If I am too scared to order food at a restaurant, how am I going to be prepared for college and job interviews?

I’m not a person who can easily open up about how I feel because sometimes I don’t know what I’m feeling nor do I want to know. However, I became so overwhelmed and stressed about my future, I felt like I had no other choice but to talk to my older siblings. My older siblings have some experience when it comes to college though they didn’t graduate. They had to drop out and get a job to help our parents with rent. I told my older siblings about my worries and they told me, “Don’t think about it too much because if you do, you’re just going to overthink everything and you’re not going to prioritize what needs to be a priority.” After hearing this, I learned to not worry too much about my future. I know that if I ever need any guidance, I can just ask my siblings. I recognize how fortunate I am to have a family like this one. A family that is supportive and hardworking. I will continue to keep working hard to help my family and I out of the situation we are in right now.

A Beauty With Thorns

Alize

Alize

That’s the name they gave me when I was born.

It’s a name my father and uncle put together, yet my mother had the last word.

On that fateful day in November, my mother wrote my name and sealed my faith.

Alize, that is my name.

I was born the day we all give thanks.

I was my parents’ firstborn,

My grandparents and great-grandparents’ first granddaughter And my uncle’s first niece.

I was born into a family of love.

But sometimes love is flawed, love is imperfect, love is painful, and love hurts.

At the age of five, I realized all that.

At the age of five, they killed my father and put my mother behind bars. I was too little to understand why someone would shoot my dad.

He was so young, and seven bullets ended his life

My mother made bad choices.

That led her to get incarcerated and sent to prison

Although I was too little to understand at the moment

Little by little, and as time went by, my heart broke more and more I realized that I was parentless.

My family’s love surrounded me.

But my parents’ love was what I yearned for the most.

Every holiday and every birthday was the most difficult for me

Because I wished I had them next to me.

I spent a lot of sleepless nights crying, asking myself, “Why me?”

I never felt like a normal girl

And I always felt out of place

I didn’t feel normal

Because I couldn’t do the simple things that kids would do

Like having their parents walk them to school or showing up for parent conferences conference

Not having my parents made me feel this emptiness inside me

Because of this, I didn’t know my place in this world

And then I remembered who my parents are

My name is Alize.

And I decide every day to smile at the world.

I am strong, beautiful, and amazing.

Do you want to know why?

My family’s love cut me to my core. I suffered, it was painful, and it hurt.

But that same love is what made me whole.

My family always surrounded me, doing everything to make me feel safe and loved.

It is then that I understood the many ways love can be defined.

You can have someone physically next to you and still not feel loved.

My father is no longer here, but I still feel his love.

It is in those few memories I did share with him that I remember his love.

My mother was not physically present for the past ten years of my life, but I still felt her love.

She was very present in my everyday life.

I received phone calls from her every day, as well as letters and gifts.

Love can never be perfect, but love is love. It can kill you and revive you.

That’s exactly what it did for me.

I do not know why I went through the things I went through.

Or the reason why they happened.

Maybe I was meant to experience heartbreak at a very young age to understand the meaning of love, or perhaps I was meant to share how horrible yet beautiful love is.

I am Alize, and love put me through darkness and light

But without love, I would not be the beautiful young girl I am.

Pop Culture Connection

Chase L.M.

My family is very important to me because I feel the most comfortable and safe with them and able to confide in them.

Working at the Los Angeles courthouse and now from home, my mom is always working hard. She is kind even when she is mad or upset at me. I can talk to her about everything. For example, when I stopped hanging around with a friend, I felt comfortable discussing it with her. She asked good questions and gave me helpful advice like suggesting I hang out with other friends. I trust her and she also has a good sense of humor. Ever since she started working from home, it’s been pretty cool coming home from school and my mom asking me about my day and if I’m hungry. The house feels more alive and not as empty when I get home. Especially during the pandemic, my family was fortunate enough to have her at home. I’m sure my cats really loved my mom being home during quarantine.

Another person living at home with us is my older brother. Though we can sometimes fight, we still love each other and talk about nerdy stuff together. We enjoy watching anything that’s kind of nerdy like Star Wars, Marvel, and DC movies. His favorite superhero is Batman and mine is Thor. We like to watch and connect over movies. His favorite movies are action, anime, and spy stuff like Mission Impossible, while mine are romance, drama, and suspense. Though we have different favorite movie genres, the two of us still enjoy trying to convince each other to watch what we like. For example, my favorite director is Wes Anderson and my brother became a fan because of me. I think it’s awesome that even as we get older, my brother and I still connect over nerdy stuff like when we were little. We still geek out when there are new superhero movies or video games that come out like when they announced last week at the Playstation showcase that a new Spider-Man game was coming soon (a sequel to the first that came about five years ago). I believe geeking out with my brother over nerdy stuff brings us closer together.

My mom, dad, and brother influenced my music taste. My mom introduced me to bands like the Beatles, Rolling Stone, and The Doors. My brother and dad both introduced me to music from the 90s and 2000s like Pearl Jam. This music brings back memories of being in the car going to the park and movie theater. It makes me happy that I was raised to appreciate music and films.

When my mom was 18, she had my eldest brother. Thirty years later, she had my older brother and I. My older brother and I don’t really have a strong connection with my eldest brother because of the age gap. He moved out before I was even born and now he has his own family. However, we still very much love each other and get along well. I even have a good relationship with my three nephews who are all older than me.

The house we live in is the same one where my mom was raised by her grandma. I love the way my home looks and the comforting vibes are unmatchable. The way my mom furnished the house is fitting of her personality. She likes to go to thrift stores to find wooden furniture because they sometimes have some cool vintage stuff. She also likes to keep the house clean so we feel fresh and just relax without having to worry about any mess. When I think about when I was little, I just remember how much my mom did for us and how she didn’t break down every day. She would and still does decorate the house for every holiday; Christmas, Valentine’s Day, Saint Patrick’s day, Halloween, and Thanksgiving. I remember that as kids, my brother and I would help my mom take out all the decorations and put them up. However, recently she has become simpler with the decorations now that we’re older. She really tried and succeeded at giving us a good childhood.

All these memories and connections are important to me because being with the ones I love the most makes me the happiest. It makes me feel like I don’t have to go out with friends and out on the streets all the time just to get away from home. My family is the reason I’m happy to wake up every day because I know they are going to be there for me when I need them. I’m thankful I grew up in a loving family. Even though my mom and dad divorced when I was seven, I still feel like I grew up with nurturing support from both ends of my family. This support helped me become a good person and to stay away from people who are bad influences. It also gave me the motivation to be myself and not get peer pressured to become someone who I’m not. I feel free to be nerdy, like superheroes, and pursue my passions even though I think they are not realistic.

My Long Distance Friendship

Heidi V.

Do you think there are more benefits or disadvantages to social media? Personally, I believe there are more benefits like connecting you with friends who don’t live close to you. When I was in eighth grade, I went to school in Pasadena although I lived in Boyle Heights. It was there that I met my best friend, Izabel. We planned on going to the same high school in Pasadena, but I was not accepted into the school she was going to go to. As a result, I had to go to school in Boyle Heights which created a physical distance between us since she lived in Pasadena. She was not allowed to go out much because her mom was super strict and didn’t trust her to go out by herself. I was obviously sad and worried that we would grow apart because we couldn’t see each other that often in person. Luckily, we were able to keep in touch through Instagram and Facetime.

She would post on her Instagram pictures of her new friends and school so whenever we Facetimed, I knew who she was talking about in her stories. Through Instagram, we would also send each other silly pictures, funny GIFs, and reels. I always laughed when she would send me funny posts because her humor is just like mine. We would also send pictures of ourselves to each other when we were busy with school and couldn’t Facetime. When we did get the chance to talk, we would cover everything that has happened to us since the last time we Facetimed all in one call. Although I miss spending time in person with Izabel, using social media has helped us stay connected and continue our friendship. It also reminds me why we are best friends: we will always be there for each other no matter what.

What Made Me

B.L.

What makes people different? What keeps them from being the same? What has made me become the person I am today?

Hey there, I am B.L!

I’ve never thought about what built me into being the person I am today but now I can see that I am a product of my environment—my faith, my passion for sports, and my role models. My environment is where I grew up. My beliefs in God come from my family. My passion for sports came from my grandpa. My role models are people who I have looked up to in life.

My environment has made me more cautious and wary because it is not the best compared to others. As much as I love my community, it was and still is a dangerous place. There have been shootings almost every week around my house. People would consider this a living nightmare, but I actually see it as a gift. This gift has taught me to keep my guard up because I do not always feel safe in my neighborhood. As a result, I’m cautious about who I can trust, even with people I already know. People in my life need to earn my trust. By remaining cautious and vigilant, I do not face things at value. I build closer relationships with those I trust.

My beliefs also made me the person I am today because my family made me closer to God. My relationship with God is strong because I talk to him every day and I go to church whenever we have a chance. I feel his presence with me everywhere I go. He is like a friend to me as well. So when this world makes me feel alone and makes me get the sense that no one likes me, I know God will still be there for me. This makes me different from other people because not everyone has my faith.

My passion for sports is an important part of my identity because of my Grandpa. When I was younger he would take me to baseball games, and practice with me so I can be the best I possibly can. I did end up being pretty good at the sport with the work I did with him. So I am very grateful for my grandpa. He is my number one supporter of the sport I play. He takes me everywhere and anywhere and enjoys seeing me play. I’m glad he got me into sports because I would rather do that than stay at home and play video games every day.

My role models are my father and my cousin. My father has shown me how a great father acts. He didn’t have the best father growing up. He talked about being mistreated by his father so I understand his tough love. He is my role model because he taught me that even if I don’t have the best role models, I can still try my best to become the best I can be.

My cousin Miguel is someone who I want to be when I’m older, just a better version. He used to be chubby, but now he’s fit and strong. He never liked school, but now he is studying to become a police officer. He is one of my role models because he’s shown me to always keep trying until I am satisfied. Which is never because we will never be satisfied and will always want to improve.

So now I wonder, what makes up other people? Would they have the same factors I had or would they be assembled by other factors? Everyone is built differently; we all go through different obstacles which lead some to be quiet, or loud, or sad, rather than happy. For me in particular, though, I am a result of my environment, my faith, my passion for sports, and my role models.

My Inheritance is My Culture

Adriana A.

When I was younger, my dad made my brother help him with the front yard to cut the grass and clean everything up in the backyard because there were lots of leaves. He taught my brother how to change the oil of the car while my mom made me help her clean the house and make food. If we finished early, we would go down and help them. One day, my brother and I complained that we did not want to do all that cleaning because we just woke up and were tired. Keep in mind: we only did this every two or three months. They still made us do the work with them. When we finished, my dad would tell us that they were not making us do it because they needed our help but because, in his words, “Cuando me muera, no podré ayudarlos a hacer esto y esto es para que ustedes sepan cómo hacer estas cosas cuando ya no estoy.” Meaning, “When I die, I won’t be able to help you do this and this is so you know how to do these things when I’m not here.” That made me feel like I could not do anything because the thought of losing my parents hurts me since I care and love them so much.

I remember when we went hiking with my mom’s aunt and her family to try to get up to the waterfall. We were going to cross a bit of a current to get to the hiking trail, but we did not want our shoes to get wet, so we went to look for a dryer route. But somehow, we found a current that was even deeper than the one we were at first. I said that the water seemed worse there, but they did not want to go back even though I told them we should because it would be easier to cross over there. But at last, we crossed the current. I went second after my mom’s aunt without my shoes which was a bad idea because there were rocks under it and the water was freezing cold, so it made my legs numb, but somehow I slipped on a rock and the current. From there on out, I understood that sometimes it’s better to just go with your gut feeling and not follow those who may seem to know what they are doing.

But the biggest thing my parents have done for me is my quince. In my culture, which I got from my parents, a “quince” is a big party celebrating a girl becoming a young woman. This tradition involves wearing a big puffy dress of any color or style you want, taking pictures for memories, and some girls go to church to be blessed on their special day. We have traditional dances like the father-daughter dance, the waltz, and baile sorpresa. The quinceañera celebrates this special day with family and friends at a big or small party filled with music, dancing, and food. I loved every second of every moment of my quince because my family was there with me every step of the way, from picking my dresses and picking “chambelanes” (male family or friends that do the dances with the quinceañera) to where we were going to hold the party and practices for the traditional dances.

Even though I was stressed at first about planning my quince, I had fun, and I will always have all those memories with me.

I realized that I would inherit my parent’s lessons, memories, and culture.

What are you inheriting?

My Letter 2 My Mother

D.M.H.

Dear Mom,

I am sorry for hurting you with all the issues that have been going on. I wish I could have prevented this from happening. I know all of this is my fault, and I’m sorry for causing you pain. I know my incident wasn’t your fault; I don’t know what I was thinking. I know I blamed you. You and I argued, and I’m sorry for that happening. I wish I could get those memories back and turn back time, to spend it with you.

I’m sorry for the crap I’ve done and for hurting your feelings. I broke your trust, and I want to earn it back. I know I’ll never get it. I’m just sorry for the arguments and drama I’ve caused you. I wish I could take back what I said. I wish I could spend time with you. I’m sorry for hurting you the way I did. I know you try to help me because you care about me.

I want to apologize for what I did. I should not have said anything rude to you in any way. I should listen and pay attention to you. I should respect you and not talk back. I now understand what I have been doing in the past.

You were right the entire time. I should have never doubted you or Dad, but I was wrong. I was wrong about what happened in August, before ninth grade. I should have paid attention and listened to you and or Dad. I’m just sorry for what I did and what I have done. I hope you can forgive me when you’re ready to do so.

Love,

DMH III

Stronger Together

Marina G.

My home is made up of people that I admire, which is my family. They mean the world to me and always bring out the best in me. My mom is a very special person to me; she is like my best friend. She always tries to cheer me up whenever I’m upset. My mom is the type of person to put people before herself. My dad is the type of person to bring a smile to people’s faces with his positive energy. My sister is as energetic as a lightning strike and is one of the first to help when you need it. My brother always makes people laugh and is there for you when you need him. My brother and I are very close. We always spend a lot of time together laughing, watching movies, and going out to eat. My home is special because it’s filled with many memories like celebrating birthdays, spending time together, the spicy smell of mole, and the sound of family laughing loudly. As well as playing Loteria and hearing my family say “La Luna” and “Buenas con El Sol.”

A challenge my family faced was when my mom got sick from not eating much. She had gotten to the point where she had to stay in the hospital. It was very hard for me and my family because we were used to getting home and my mom being there cooking and cleaning. We missed the sound of her music playing and feeling sizzling steam coming from the hot food she made. I even missed when she would scream out my name, telling me to come help her. “¡Marina, ven ayudarme!”

When my mom got out of the hospital, my siblings, dad, and I made sure my mom was eating enough so she wouldn’t have to go back to the hospital. We even made her caldo de pollo with vegetables. My family from my mom’s side came over to see how she was doing, and they said that if she ever needed anything, to ask them. A couple of days later, my mom said she wasn’t feeling good anymore. I got worried that something worse would happen and that she would need to go to the hospital again. My family was there to comfort me and tell me, “Todo va estar bien. No te preocupes.” My dad had taken my mom with some lady that, just by looking at her eyes, could read everything going on in her body. The lady prescribed my mom medicine and a drink that didn’t taste like anything, but it would help her clean the inside of her. After taking her medicine every day, she smiled more and looked happier. She was able to walk and cook albondigas; the smell of savory steam coming out of the pot that I missed so much. Even now to this day, I make sure she eats enough.

This experience with my family made me realize that we will always be there for each other through rough times. My family and I supported each other by making sure each of us were okay. A quote related to this is, “Keep people in your life that truly love you, motivate you, encourage you, and make you happy.” This quote

matters to me because this challenge made me stronger and reminded me that family should always stick together. It also made me realize that we should always have positive people in our lives to help us through tough times. Having positive people in my life is important because it helps me keep going and be a stronger person like I am. Moving forward, I plan to support my family by working hard and being there for them when they need me.

What Makes My Home

Joanna R.

Home is seeing my mom trying her best to give my siblings and I everything she didn’t have growing up. Home is the sound of my mom telling us how she is sorry that she may have not been the best mom ever. Hearing my mom say how much she would have wished to have everything we have. Seeing my mom as a single parent trying to always be here for us. It makes me realize how easy life is for me because I don’t have as many responsibilities as she had as a kid.

I see my mom realizing that her little girls are growing up. When she buys us things, she notices that we no longer like the same things we liked when we were little. Now, she brings us to the store with her so we can pick out what we like now.

Home is having to grow up without my dad in our house. He lives many miles away and I only get to hear him over the phone on the weekends. Sometimes I see my dad on these weekends. Home is realizing that my dad has moved on and so has my mom. Their relationship is not the same anymore.

Home is the sound of my mom cooking her birria. My mom is a great cook who never fails to impress us with her gifted skills. Her birria is so flavorful and moist and the ingredients she adds make it taste like no other birria I’ve ever tried. Only my mom can make birria taste so special. I hear my mom singing her heart out to Jenni Rivera. Sometimes, I see her dancing. I always tell her she should be on one of those talent shows that are on TV since she has a really good voice.

I have four brothers and three sisters. My sister, Charyss, though we are not blood-related, I still consider her my sister and someone very special to me. She always brings out the best in me and brings joy to everyone she meets. She showed me how to cherish the little things in life. Meeting her has made me realize that family doesn’t only include people who are blood-related to you.

My little brother is three years old and is about to turn four. Next year he is going to start school. He is a very smart kid, maybe even smarter than me. My little sister is currently eleven and though she is not that nice, I still love her. Whenever I see her, I always remember when she was tiny and always crying. My other younger brother is seven years old and he is very special to me. I spend a lot of time with him just hanging out. I have an older brother who I don’t know much about besides the fact that he is an adult. My eldest sister is nineteen and we aren’t really that close since she lives in Mexico. I feel like she looks a lot like me. My baby brother, who just turned two months old, is very cute and is always making me laugh. My older sister, who is about to turn eighteen, is the one who binds us all together. She is going

off to college in the fall and I’m going to miss her. I feel like she has grown up so fast and I don’t want her to go since she is a really big part of my life.

Although we may not always get along, my family is what makes me feel at home. My siblings and I would argue for what feels like hours about what we are going to watch on the TV. When we do finally decide, it is time to go to sleep. Despite our arguments, I still love my siblings. Every night, I can hear the sound of the TV that was left on while everyone fell asleep. The remote is most likely under one of my siblings. My family may not be perfect but they are in my eyes. Home is not just the place you live in. It doesn’t matter how big your home is, it matters who makes the home.

Acknowledgments

826LA would like to thank to following for their support in making this chapbook possible:

Brettany Valenzuela

America Melchor Leon

Marco Beltran

Angela Martinez Morales

Mateo Acosta

Kyle Stephenson

Kaui Alcayde

James Liddell

Nayelli Gallardo

Orit Yefet

Monica Lawson

Isaac Weingart

Nancy Keystone

Ned Albright

Kelly Adams

Elizabeth Harty

Mary Becker

Angelica Butiu-Coronado

Guadalupe Ibarra

Juliana Michel

Estefani Ventura

Lizeth Palacios Sanchez

Gracias!

About 826LA

Vision: 826LA envisions a Los Angeles where every child has access to quality writing education and is empowered to express themselves creatively through writing. We envision a Los Angeles where every teacher is supported in their writing based educational objectives.

Mission: 826LA is dedicated to unlocking and cultivating the creative power of writing for students ages 6 to 18, and to helping teachers inspire their students to write.

How we advance our mission: A nonprofit organization, our services are structured around our understanding that great leaps in learning can happen with one-on-one attention, and that strong writing skills are fundamental to future success.

With this in mind, we provide after-school tutoring in all subjects, evening and weekend workshops, in-school programs, field trips, college access, help for English language learners, and assistance with student publications.

All of our programs are challenging and enjoyable, and ultimately strengthen each student’s ability to express ideas effectively, creatively, confidently, and in their own voice.

Core Values: 826LA values joy in the service of achieving educational goals. Our community norms value diversity, equity, inclusion, and access. We therefore prioritize partnerships with Title 1 Schools, engagement with historically marginalized populations, and training and deploying community-based volunteers in support of our mission. As a teaching approach, we value creativity, authenticity, empathy, and lively, rigorous, and student-centered writing education. As an educational enrichment organization, we value supporting teachers, principals, and other school staff in the pursuit of excellence.

826LA Programs

After-School Writing Programs

Mondays through Thursdays, students attend 826LA for after-school writing programs. Students participate in community building activities, work on homework or reading with trained tutors, and of course, write! Students submit their writing for inclusion in chapbooks, which 826LA publishes twice a year. To celebrate students’ hard work, 826LA unveils these chapbooks at book release parties, where students read their work to thunderous applause from their volunteers, families, and peers.

Field Trips

During the week, 826LA invites teachers and their students to our writing labs to participate in a morning of collaboration, creativity, and writing. Whether Storytelling & Bookmaking, Well-Wishing & Poetry, Choose Your Own Adventure, or Memoir, field trips at 826LA support teacher curriculum and student learning by offering a safe space for students to be their most imaginative and to work on their writing skills. In a few short hours, students brainstorm, write, edit their work, and leave with something tangible—a bound book—as well as a renewed confidence in their ability to tell their stories.

In-Schools Programs & Writers Rooms

Because not all students can come to us, 826LA brings specially trained volunteer tutors into classrooms throughout Los Angeles. There, volunteers provide one-onone or small group assistance with writing projects. 826LA works with teachers to craft all projects, which are designed to engage students while targeting curricular needs. In addition to visiting twenty schools in the Los Angeles Unified School District each year, 826LA has additional sites within Manual Arts High School, Roosevelt High School, and Venice High School called The 826LA Writers’ Rooms.

Workshops

826LA’s workshops bring students together with artists, writers, and professionals for creative collaboration. Whether the subject is journalism or preparing for the zombie apocalypse, our workshops foster student creativity while strengthening writing skills. This program includes two long running partnerships with Paramount Pictures and the Hammer Museum.

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Go to 826LA.org/donate and click on Future Bestsellers Club to join.

Shop the Time Travel Mart!

Visit our Time Travel Mart storefronts in Echo Park and Mar Vista where you can shop for all your time traveling gears and gadgets. From Mammoth Chunks to Robot Milk to original student-authored books, we pride ourselves on being the only Los Angeles purveyor of quality goods from the past, present, and future. The proceeds from the store help to keep all programs free for our students. You can also visit the stores online at timetravelmart.com.

Staff

Jaime Balboa Executive Director

Diego Quevedo Chief of Staff

Shani Foster Director of Education

Christie Thomas Director of Development

Pedro Estrada Programs & Operations Manager, Echo Park

Mike Dunbar

Programs & Operations Manager, Mar Vista

Mateo Acosta

Associate Director of Community Engagement

Carinne Mangold Store and General Operations Manager, Time Travel Marts in Echo Park & Mar Vista

Alma Carrillo Senior Manager of Strategic Partnerships and Communications

Trevor Crown Senior Manager of Volunteer Innovation & Assessment

Ariadne Makridakis Arroyo Senior Community Relations Coordinator

Katie Feige Institutional Giving Manager

Maddie Silva Manager of Special Initiatives

Arisdeysi Cruz Tutoring Program Coordinator

Marco Beltran Writers’ Room Program Coordinator Manual Arts High School

Wendy Beltran Senior Writers’ Room Program Coordinator Roosevelt High School

Cole Montgomery Senior Development Coordinator

Ariana Ponce Olivares Senior Civic Engagement Coordinator

Wilson Swain Creative Engagement Specialist

Julia Malinow In-Schools and Tutoring Program Coordinator

Caz Shen Store Associate

Board

Karen Van Kirk Board President

Sarah Varet Board Vice President

David Ullendorff Board Treasurer

Cisca Brouwer Development Committee Chair

Ben Au Litigation Partner, Orrick

Jeff Boos Brokerage Operations & Services, Side

Scott Boxenbaum Comedian & Real Estate

Iman Farrior Business Affairs Executive, Creative Artists Agency

Joe Ferencz CEO/Founder, GameFam

Scott A. Ginsburg Real Estate, Boulevard Partners

Susan Ko Clinical Psychology & Executive Leadership

Hon. Holly A. Thomas Circuit Judge, United States Court of Appeals

Dave Eggers Emeritus and 826 Founder

Advisory Board

J.J. Abrams

Judd Apatow

Miguel Arteta

Mac Barnett

Steve Barr

Joshuah Bearman

Father Greg Boyle, S.J.

Amy Brooks

Stefan Bucher

Kathleen Caliento

Monique Demery

Mark Flanagan

Ben Goldhirsh

Rebecca Goldman

Ellen Goldsmith-Vein

DeAnna Gravillis

Terri Hernandez Rosales

Christine Jaroush

Spike Jonze

Miranda July

Catherine Keener

Keith Knight

Al Madrigal

R. Scott Mitchell

Lani Monos

B.J. Novak

Miwa Okumura

Amber Paasch

Jane Patterson

Keri Putnam

Sylvie Rabineau

Sonja Rasula

Will Reiser

Luis Rodriguez

Tara Roth

Brad Simpson

J. Ryan Stradal

Natalie Tran

Sarah Vowell

Sally Willcox

Julie Wiskirchen

About This Book

Camino a mi Hogar is the ninth installment of 826LA’s collaborative book project with the Ethnic Studies Department at Roosevelt High School. This book is a collection of writing by 9th-grade authors reflecting on “home” as they explore their personal identity and the community that shaped them. By sharing their insights, these students offer readers a window into the resilience, resistance, and reimagination of Boyle Heights.