826NYC Books 372 Fifth Avenue Brooklyn, NY 11215 This Is What It Feels Like: An Anthology from 826NYC Students at Fannie Lou Hamer Freedom High School © 2022 by 826NYC and the authors. All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. First 826NYC edition August 2022 Manufactured in the United States of Brooklyn 979-8-88694-008-4 The writing in this book was produced in the 20212022 school year at 826NYC’s Young Writers Publish project at Fannie Lou Hamer High School. The classes were run by J’miah Baird, Daniel Goulden, and Jaydra Johnson with the support of Amanda Baylor, Aleta Brown, Daniel Colon, Olivia Corti, Paula Dallacqua, Chloe Evans-Cross, Astrid Gonzalez, Sarah Moore, Daniel Nohejl, Maya Petrillo, and Yancy Sanes. Designed by Ling Zhu Edited and proofread by Nisha Lauren Aoyama, Ennis Bashe, Christine Corbin, Madison Durhman, Anna Kodama, Dena Levitz, Amy Linstrom, Tiana Moe, Kris Pajarito, and Makayla Smith. Translation by Aimee Lam. Printed by Bookmobile This program is supported by 826 National, the Amazon Literary Partnership, The Jane Friedman Anspach Family Foundation, Con Edison, The Find Your Light Foundation, The Hawkins Project, International Paper, The Rona Jaffe Foundation, The Kettering Family Foundation, The Minerva Foundation, The Resnick Family Foundation, The Yelp Foundation, and Youth, Inc. This program is supported, in part, by public funds
from the New York City Department of Cultural Affairs in partnership with the City Council. The program is also made possible by the New York State Council on the Arts with the support of the Office of the Governor and the New York State Legislature. Additional support comes from the National Endowment for the Arts. To find out more about how National Endowment for the Arts grants impact individuals and communities, visit www.arts.gov. 826NYC is grateful to the many individuals who support our work. To see our full list of supporters or make a donation, please visit https://826nyc.org/donate-us/.
826NYC is a nonprofit organization whose mission is to encourage the exploration of endless possibilities through the power of writing. Undefined by circumstance, our students build the skills to boldly write their own paths forward. We support new and exciting approaches to writing and inspire student engagement. And we foster generations of creative writers and thinkers, who together will define a better future.
Content Warning This book is intended for mature audiences, with some topics, themes, and language, that may not be suitable for young readers, including references to substance usage and themes involving violence and sexuality.
Adventure House
A collective poem by the students of Adventure House
02
Immigration Is..................................................03
Yazeed Alrubai
The Dominant Narrative.................................05
Yeimy Beato
Luz y Oscuridad...............................................07 Light and Darkness..........................................10
Nikolas Caban
An Incomplete Story........................................13
Xavier Calendario
My Nikes..........................................................15
Demetrius Cato
I See..................................................................17
Sadye Castillo Rodriguez
Mi Mundo: Maimón........................................19 My World: Maimón.........................................20
Stalin Cid Mejia
A Él...................................................................21 For Him............................................................22
Ibrahim Cisse
Judgment Day...................................................23
Warlin Contrera
My Side............................................................25
Paola De La Cruz
It Hurts.............................................................26
Ganesh Deodat
The Break of Dawn.........................................27
Nicholas Deverson
Riding Free.......................................................31
Cadis Espinal Holguin
Inner Storm......................................................32
Misael Estrella Luna
A Miracle..........................................................33
Melb Fana Urena, Sadye Castillo Rodriguez, Ovid Hernandez, Stalin Cid Mejia La Ley de la Vida.............................................35 The Law of Life................................................37
Brinish Figueroa
My Shoes..........................................................39
Jose Garcia Guzman
New York.........................................................41
Yatsel Gil
I Am From.......................................................43 Yo Soy De........................................................45
Brandon Gonzalez
Wake Up..........................................................47
Keyon Green
Try Walking in My Shoes................................49
Jose Hernandez
Morning Boches...............................................51 Why Would I Lie?..........................................53
Daniel Holguin
Daniel’s Shoes..................................................55
Leesan Irvine
Leesan Irvine “The Diabetic”..........................57
Jayden Lizardo
To Change My World.....................................59
Karla Llerena
My Struggle.......................................................61 Where Are You From?...................................63
Jonathan Lutterloh
Día de Resistencia............................................65
Dantees Martinez
Walk in My Shoes............................................67
Kevin Martinez
To Walk in My Shoes......................................69
Joander Mateo
Mis Zapatos......................................................71 My Shoes..........................................................72
Teresa Molina
Walk in My Shoes............................................73 Climate Change................................................75
Tin Nguyen
How It Feels to Be Different...........................77
Wilbely Núñez
Una Milla en Mis Zapatos................................79 A Mile in My Shoes.........................................80
Darlene Pena Puente & Franlin Perez
A Rosy, Noble World......................................81
Darlene Pena Puente
Tropical Life.....................................................83
Franlin Perez
I Am From . . . ................................................85
Christina Prado Morales
Without Her.....................................................87
Eliana Rivera
Spanish Harlem................................................89
Ayanna Rose
The Never-Ending Sinkhole............................91
Danyelin Sanchez
To Walk in My Shoes......................................93
Genesis Tavarez
From Two Worlds...........................................95 Our Last Christmas..........................................97
Sabrina Tavarez
La Expectativa de una Chica............................99 The Expectations of a Girl...............................100
La Casa North Danely Adames
102
Good Times.....................................................103
Odalys Alfaro
In My Own Skin...............................................105 Thorns and Roses............................................106
Adan Amaro
The Motherland...............................................107
Yvonne Ameyaw
Home Sweet Home.........................................109
Lana Chevere
The Beautifully Mysterious Sky.......................111
Johan Cruz
The Wrench.....................................................113
Amir Jennings
Untitled.............................................................116
Keisha Lewis
An Ode to My Mom’s Presence......................117
Samaya Lucas
Untitled.............................................................118
Lizbeth Montero
Through the Window......................................119
Aidan Persaud
Paradise at Buffalo Wild Wings......................121
Leslie Rojas
The Gift of God...............................................123 So Much More Than a Name.........................124
Felix Salcedo
Blade Boy.........................................................125
Amya Small Wayne
My Home.........................................................129
Shaylee Suazo
Untitled.............................................................131
Shabar Taylor Jr.
The School.......................................................133 Pure Chaos.......................................................134
La Casa South Madison Cohen
136
Taking a Presence for Granted........................137 What You Always Expect Is What You Take for Granted.............................................................138
Tatiilyn Daugherty
Dreaming..........................................................139 Kisses to the Sky...............................................140
Wislenny Nunez Estrella
In My Dark Room...........................................141 Butterflies.........................................................142 Silence..............................................................143
Jeremy Flete
Dreams.............................................................145
Baba Ka
My Mother.......................................................147 Silence..............................................................148
Marvin Massey
My Identity.......................................................149 How I See Joy..................................................150
Jostin Nunez
My Dream........................................................151 My Silence........................................................152
Joshua Oppong
Black Don’t Crack............................................153 Mask Off..........................................................154
Frankchely Perez
Drawing............................................................155 Identity..............................................................156
Jatniel Perez
Smile.................................................................157 Thinking about Twenty Years from Now........158
Acknowledgements
161
Foreword There is something spectacular that can occur when a group of young adults are guided towards a place of comfortable self expression. Here at Fannie Lou Hamer, students were challenged to enter a place of creativity, truth, and even fantasy, all in the name of art. Every day was different, but every day was one step closer to being comfortable with the wildness and unknown of artistic expression. We had eight sessions at Fannie Lou Hamer, of one hour each. The classes brought a community of trust and care through exercises like icebreaker questions, as well as sharing some of our writing and stories aloud. We were able to see newer bonds created as well as older bonds strengthened. In this anthology you’ll find short stories, poems, and musings written by our students who were pushed into a deeper and different form of thought; thoughts that brought up questions such as: What is silence? What is home? To what can I bear witness? You’ll also find haiku-style poetry, free verse poetry, odes, and some collaborative stories that more than one student worked on together.
I.
The students pushed themselves incredibly hard to be vulnerable and share things very near to them. As you read this, we hope that you can sense the courage it takes for these young writers to be so emotionally strong as well as emotionally free. We want to thank you, the reader, for opening your hearts to them, and for your compassion for their incredible bravery and work. We would like to send a special thank you to the teachers who help cultivate this environment every day. Thank you Paula, Astrid, Olivia, Chloe, Amanda, Maya, Daniel, Sarah, Yancy, Aleta and Danny. Thank you, J’miah, Daniel, and Jaydra 826NYC Teaching Artists
II.
Teachers: Sarah Moore Yancy Sanes Aleta Brown
01.
Adventure House 02.
Immigration Is A collective poem by the students of Adventure House Immigration is feeling lost, like being on a different planet. Immigration is leaving your life behind, starting from scratch. La inmigración es un viaje con muchos obstáculos por delante. Immigration is becoming a target. Immigration is not having a place to call home. Immigration is like walking on a tightrope four hundred feet in the air and one wrong step could ruin you. La inmigración es enfocarse día a día por un mejor futuro. Immigration is like a bird without wings. Immigration is reunion, love, and bravery. Immigration is abundance. Immigration is knowing peace, achieving goals and a better future. Immigration is sacrifice. La inmigración es dejar la familia atrás contra tu propia voluntad. Immigration is not knowing where you belong. Immigration is erasing one drawing to start a new one. Immigration is becoming a criminal just for existing. Immigration is taking the first step towards achieving your goals. Immigration is a way out of hell. Immigration is having faith that life will become better. Immigration is dangerous. Immigration is missing your country. Immigration is the ability to work, to feed your kids, and to take care of yourself. 03.
Immigration is when you have to fight for what you believe in. Immigration is a punch in the gut, with tears coming down. La inmigración es sentirse atrapado en otro mundo. Immigration is a relief. Immigration is being told, “Go back to where you came from.” Immigration is natural. La inmigración es luchar contra los obstáculos que te impiden llegar a tu destino. Immigration is a borderland, separating opportunity from failure. Immigration is survival. Immigration is families torn apart. Immigration is coming from a “shithole country.” Immigration is mercy. Immigration is children left behind. Immigration is working 24/7. Immigration is perseverance. Immigration is a wall, separating families. Immigration is being “different“ than the folks on the other side of the border. Immigration is always having a negative narrative told about you. Immigration is a thunderstorm about to shoot lightning. Immigration is being caught by la migra and having to try again. Immigration is freedom. Immigration is beautiful.
04.
The Dominant Narrative Yazeed Alrubai
Dear Yemen, You terrorists coming to our land just to take space, take our jobs. Starting wars, Destroying our buildings. You are scaring people when you are out in public, we have no idea of what’s in your bag. Leave. Go back.
05.
Dear America, We are not coming to invade your land or destroy anything. We come in peace. We come here so our families Can have a better life. Enjoy more of what Allah has created for us. We want our kids to learn new things and have a better education. A very good job where they can follow their dreams. We are here To stay.
06.
Luz y Oscuridad Yeimy Beato Al principio del año escolar, de alguna forma, ninguna persona parecía entenderme, y mi sueños se veían más lejos que nunca, y al parecer no iba poder llegar a ellos, y menos donde estaba. Todo cambió en medio del semestre. Estaba en un avión hacia EE.UU., no sé cómo ocurrió, pero es una gran oportunidad de cumplir mis sueños. Ha sido un cambio muy difícil, pero dicen que lo diferente es bueno. Ha sido un reto tener que aprender inglés, y tener que vivir sin mi madre. En la vida he aprendido que hay que seguir adelante sin importar las circunstancias. Al final, lo mejor es que estoy en un lugar donde puedo cumplir mis sueños. Obviamente no será fácil, pero al final el esfuerzo valdrá la pena o eso espero, pero tengo la esperanza que así será. Estas fueron mis palabras a principio del año escolar. Llore al volver a leer lo que he escrito porque me llena de nostalgia ver como he logrado tanto. Parece que fue hace tanto tiempo, pero a la vez hace tan poco. El principio de año escolar en EE.UU. fue lleno de lágrimas para mi. El miedo y oscuridad se apoderaba de mí y parecía que nunca iba a ver la luz del sol de nuevo. Un día me di cuenta que para vencer la oscuridad debía aceptar que la luz iba a tardar en llegar y la oscuridad no estaba tan mal. La luz al final siempre estuvo pero no la vi, todo el tiempo había tenido los ojos cerrados por miedo. Miedo al abrir los ojos, pero no solo eso, miedo a hacerme yo misma, miedo al idioma, miedo a que me juzguen, miedo a aceptarme tal y como soy. Pasé tanto tiempo pensando en que la luz sería el sol que no pensé en que la luz también podría ser yo. 07.
La luz que necesitaba para salir de la oscuridad era yo y no lo vi porque me daba miedo aceptar la oscuridad, aceptar mis defectos, aceptar que necesitaba la oscuridad para llegar a hacer luz. La luz no siempre es el sol también puede ser una estrella o la luna. Ahora que soy luz tengo miedo de volver a hacer oscuridad. El año escolar casi termina y siento que está terminando conmigo también. Este año escolar fue lleno de retos, miedo, sorpresas, ansiedad y pánico, un poco más que solo luz y oscuridad. Me voy a mudar a otro estado y me llena de miedo y felicidad. Es como una montaña rusa, una montaña de emociones que puede subir y bajar, dar vueltas y parar todo en un segundo. Así es como me siento. En la escuela que estoy actualmente no me gusta al 100%, pero me ha ayudado mucho a acostumbrarme al país y aceptarme tal y como soy. Antes quería irme de la escuela porque aún no me había adaptado, pero ahora me siento atada a la escuela, no puedo dejarla. Conocí mucha gente que es especial para mi, personas que me aceptan tal y como soy, y para ser sincera nunca había conocido personas que no juzgan el cómo soy como persona. Son personas que siempre tendré presentes sin importar donde estén. Esas personas me ayudaron a darme cuenta de que yo era luz, esa luz que me faltaba en la vida. La escuela en la que voy a estar en septiembre me gusta mucho porque tiene muchos deportes y muchas actividades, y además me van a ayudar con el idioma. Me da miedo que no me acepten en esa escuela y vuelva a hacer oscuridad. Creo que en esa escuela no voy a poder hacer amigos o al menos algunos que me entiendan. Sé que voy a estar bien pero igual tengo la duda que me hace temer. 08.
Escribí esto para las personas que últimamente sufren de depresión o ansiedad y también para las personas que se han mudado a otro país o ciudad y tienen que empezar de nuevo. Quiero que sepan que no están solas. Hay muchas personas alrededor del mundo pasando por lo mismo. Y si necesitas un poco más de apoyo o conocerme más puedes visitar mi canal de Youtube: Yeimy Maria.
09.
Light and Darkness Yeimy Beato At the beginning of the school year, in some way, no one seemed to understand me. My dreams seemed farther than ever, and it seemed like I would never reach them, and less so where I was. Everything changed in the middle of the semester. I was on a plane to the U.S. I don’t know how it happened, but it’s a great way to make my dreams come true. It’s been a very difficult change, but they say that different is good. It’s been a challenge to learn English and have to live without my mom. In life I’ve learned that we have to keep going no matter what the circumstances are. In the end the best thing is that I’m in a place where I can achieve my dreams. Obviously it won’t be easy, but in the end the effort will be worth it or I hope it will, but I think it will be. These were my words at the beginning of the school year. I cried when I reread it because it filled me with nostalgia to see how much I’ve achieved. It seems like so long ago, but at the same time not long ago. The beginning of the year in the US was full of tears for me. The fear and darkness took over me and it seemed like I’d never see the sunshine again. One day I realized that to beat the darkness I’d have to accept the fact that the light might take a while, and the darkness wasn’t so bad. The light in the end was always there but I didn’t see it. The whole time my eyes were closed from fear. Fear from opening my eyes, but that’s not it, fear of becoming myself, fear of the language, fear of being judged, fear to accept myself as I am. I spend so much time thinking that the light could be the sun that I never thought that the light could be me. The light that I needed to 10.
leave the darkness was me and I didn’t see it because I was afraid to accept the darkness, accept my flaws, accept that I needed the darkness to get to the light. The light isn’t always the sun, it can also be a star or the moon. Now that I am light, I am afraid to be dark. The school year is almost over, and I feel like it’s ending with me, too. This school year was full of challenges, fear, surprises, anxiety and panic, a little more than just light of darkness. I’m moving to another state and it fills me with fear and happiness. It’s like a roller coaster, a mountain of feelings that go up and down, turn around and stop suddenly. That’s how I feel. The school I’m in right now I don’t like 100%, but it’s helped me get used to the country and accept myself as I am. Before I wanted to leave the school because I hadn’t adapted, but now I feel attached to the school, and I can’t leave it. I’ve met a lot of people that are special to me, people that accept me as I am, and to be honest I’ve never met people before that didn’t judge me. These are people that I’ll always remember no matter where they are. These people helped me realize that I am light, that light that was missing in my life. I like the school I’ll be going to in September a lot because it has a ton of sports and activities, and they’re going to help me with the language. I’m afraid they won’t accept me in the school and I’ll become darkness again. I think I won’t be able to make friends or find people that will understand me. I know I’ll be okay but I still have the doubts that make me fear. I wrote this ultimately for those that suffer with depression or anxiety and also for those that have moved to another country or city and have to start all over. I want you 11.
to know you’re not alone, and there are a lot of people all over the world going through the same thing. And if you need more support or want to know me you can visit my Youtube channel: Yeimy Maria.
12.
An Incomplete Story Nikolas Caban There’s a narrative of my family. We are bad, violent, don’t care about anything. But that’s not true. He was sixteen. Robbed a store. It was his friend’s shotgun. He didn’t want that man to die. But “he saw our faces” and threatened. He had a good heart. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Made a bad choice. A lot of trouble. A lot of heartache. Even though he did bad things, he changed his life around. Started going the right way.
13.
I can be the one to show we all have good hearts. This is only the beginning. A chance to prove to myself that a family with our last name is not bad. Sometimes, we make mistakes that we can’t take back. I will change this narrative. I can finish school. I can be a good influence, fix the way I’m acting. Prove that we aren’t violent. Just because one person does something bad doesn’t mean they all do something bad. I will change this narrative.
14.
My Nikes Xavier Calendario To walk in my shoes is to wake up in the morning with no money in my wallet. To walk in my shoes is to get on the 27 bus to go to school every day, rising at 6:00 to make it on time. To walk in my shoes is to pass subway rats and apartment buildings. To walk in my shoes is to see crazy subway disputes and 4th of July barbecues. To walk in my shoes is to smile every day, to think positively through dark times. To walk in my shoes is to skateboard around Clason Point, greeting people around the neighborhood.
15.
To walk in my shoes is to enjoy good dinners at City Island and a turkey with American cheese from the bodega. To walk in my shoes is to wear cargo pants, Nike blazers, and a black hoodie. To walk in my shoes is to stay optimistic and see the beauty all around me.
16.
I See Demetrius Cato
17.
You see drugs, violence, and robberies. I see happiness. I see paradise. You see a group of people stealing. I see sports and opportunities. I see a childhood full of memories. You see groups of people and assume gangs and violence. I see friends having fun. You see riots. I see a movement fighting for rights. You see a dirty hood, a ghetto. I see nice houses and nice stores. You see police and think safety. I see police and think racial profiling. You see a stabbing on the news. I see a good education and dedicated teachers. You see bad. I see the bad and the good. You see one side. I see the whole story.
18.
Mi Mundo: Maimón Sadye Castillo Rodriguez Walking in my Maimón is to see un motoconcho matándose para ganar dinero, tratando de llevar comida a su familia Walking in my Maimón es ver las personas de bajos recursos no poder comer porque no tienen trabajo por la forma en la que se ven. Walking in Maimón is to see people vender frutas, ropa y frio frio en la calle. Walking in Maimón is to see las personas levantándose los sábados temprano para poder ir al mercado. Walking in my shoes es ser amable con las personas y no recibir el mismo trato. Walking in my Maimón es jugar todas las noches con todas las personas del barrio. Walking in my shoes es para extrañar a mi hogar, Maimón.
19.
My World: Maimón Sadye Castillo Rodriguez Caminando en mi Maimón es ver motorcycle taxi drivers killing themselves to earn money, trying to bring food to their family Caminando en mi Maimón es ver people with few resources not being able to eat because they can’t get a job because of the way they look. Caminando en Maimón es ver gente selling fruits, clothes and frio frio in the streets. Caminando en Maimón es ver people waking up early on Saturdays to go to the market. Caminando en mis zapatos is being kind with people and not receiving the same treatment. Caminando en mi Maimón is playing every night with all the people in the neighborhood. Caminando en mis zapatos is missing my home, Maimón.
20.
A Él Stalin Cid Mejia Todo para él es un desastre, incluso él mismo. Él está todo el día estresado, no puede dormir bien. Solo puede dormir unas cuatro horas como máximo, y no puede pensar bien en la escuela por el estrés. No confía fácilmente. Tiene pocos amigos. No tiene una chica que esté ahí para él y que lo pueda entender. Tiene miedo de estar con alguien porque le pueden hablar mal cuando está estresado y porque no se lleva bien con su padre. Para él, el mundo no servía. A él, le hace falta a su mamá, ella está en República Dominicana y lo único que puede quitarle el estrés es estar con su mamá. Quizá este año pueda volver a verla y estar con ella. Pero para él, no es lo único que necesita. Necesita el cariño de una persona que lo pueda comprender, que esté ahí cuando lo necesite, que lo abrace siempre. A veces todo lo que necesita es un buen abrazo. Cuando está estresado se pone a llorar en medio de la clase sin que nadie se dé cuenta. A veces, prefiere reír en lugar de llorar. Prefiere hacer bromas en lugar de mostrar exactamente cómo se siente. A veces uno necesita el cariño de una persona específica.
21.
For Him Stalin Cid Mejia Everything for him is a disaster, including himself. He’s stressed out all day, can’t sleep well. He can only sleep around four hours max, and he can’t think straight in school because of the stress. He doesn’t trust easily. He has few friends. He doesn’t have a girl that can be there for him and can understand him. He’s afraid to be with someone because they could speak meanly to him when he’s stressed and because they may not get along with his father. For him, the world is useless. He’s missing his mom, she’s in the Dominican Republic and the only thing that can take away his stress is his mom. Maybe this year he can be with her again. For him, that’s not the only thing he needs. He needs the love of someone that can understand him, be there for him, and hug him always. Sometimes all he needs is a good hug. When he’s stressed out he starts to cry in the middle of class without anyone noticing. Sometimes, he’d rather laugh than cry. He’d rather joke around rather than show how he really feels. Sometimes, a person just needs love from someone very specific.
22.
Judgment Day Ibrahim Cisse The month where you forgive your sins and pay them back. No eating or drinking until the sun comes up and when the sun goes down for thirty days. Thirty days and get rewarded on the day of judgment. The month you can quit bad habits, struggles you’ve been dealing with. Get connected to God. Not eating nor drinking can be hard the first day, but as the days go on you’re going to get used to it. Sun up and sun down. Fasting thirty is like fasting 360 days. When the day of judgment comes, Allah will love the fact that you have fasted those days. On that day, Allah will look at the things you have done. You can pray for forgiveness.
23.
Allah will look at you fasting, and he will let you go up with him. To prepare for your day: Pray, read the Quran and respect the God That brought you into this world.
24.
My Side Warlin Contrera Donald Trump said all immigrants are invaders but I say my mom was just looking for a better life. They say we are all criminals but I say I’m just a high school kid just trying to graduate, just somebody who wants to follow his dream. My world changed when I left the Dominican Republic to come here. I wasn’t going to know how to speak the language. Was I going to be able to make friends? Do you know what it’s like to arrive in a new country? To change schools, communities, cultures, and countries? They say we immigrants are all “drug dealers and rapists from shithole countries.” I say we are workers, mothers, fathers, and families looking to survive.
25.
It Hurts Paola De La Cruz It hurts, when you feel that no one is proud of you. It hurts, when you push yourself and no one notices. It hurts, when people say so much, you start to think the same way. It hurts, when you wake up and wonder, “Why am I doing this?” but you can’t find any reason. It hurts, when you lose interest in life. It hurts, when you have so much pain inside your head that you can’t spell any words. It hurts, when you try not to cry for a long time and there comes a point when you can’t anymore and you choke on your own oxygen. It hurts, being in my shoes.
26.
The Break of Dawn Ganesh Deodat How many days has it been since he locked me back here, Nayuta thought to herself as she started losing her mind. Her father, Ayananto, treated her as if she was just some trash he had found on the street. Looking at her, he felt nothing. She was his anyway. He was the one who took her as a baby off the street. Why wouldn’t it be fine to experiment on her? It’s only tiny drugs that won’t harm her, she’ll understand this is just for work. This is how we survive, how she has a roof over her head, all she has to do is be the lab rat, that should be fine, shouldn’t it? After all, she owes him her life. People would die to be in this gracious place, and what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right? The room was built in such a way that it seemed like a normal hotel room. A small bed, miniature television near it, with a small desk near the entrance. But there was always this sinister presence that she sensed around her. The eerie feeling never left her side the moment she was brought into this room, as if the place was an abandoned shelter with spirits flowing through the walls. On nights that she felt restless, she could almost see them piercing through the cracks of the floorboards, only in the corner of her eyes, but they would be gone in the blink of an eye. These small injections changed into what seemed to be tortuous blood work, the everlasting pain draining her ability to walk. Her father started to see her weakened state, and it amused him and became an addiction, to the point where he was dying for more. But she began to build 27.
more resistance towards the drugs. In the small moments when she was sane, she wanted to start a rebellion against her father. Although the injections left her body weak, the thought of fighting back strengthened her mentally. She had been trapped in this room for so long and now all she could think about was escaping Ayananto. Her father loved to rant to her, thinking that she couldn’t understand him under the influence of drugs. In one of these rants he mentioned the sleeping pills. She began to notice a pattern: every night, around 12:22 AM, her father’s invasive snores would begin piercing her walls. And when her father mentioned something about the padlock keeping her from the outside world, she instantly made a mental note of it. She began thinking about how she would get out. Her room always had this sinister feel to it. The small television in the corner was her only way of gaining knowledge of the outside world. The room seemed like a modern hotel room, other than the prison-like door blocking her escape and the chair that she was forced to sit on while her father experimented on her. Being completely shut off since birth, she was getting to the point of just wanting to break out. The way I need to get out of this bullshit that he threw me in is definitely not talking. These shows nowadays ain’t showing the information I need. Jumping out the window is badass. If there’s any way I want to get out of this place, at least let it be somewhat admirable, or so she thought. The clock was ticking, as she looked up she saw the clock hit 12:43 AM. Tonight was the night. His snores took up all the surrounding space as she started working on the padlock with the pins she had stolen months ago. As the lock opened, she barged out, seeing the full moon right outside the window. 28.
“So you’re finally awake, kiddo. I’m impressed you made it out of that hellhole. Although you didn’t get that far. Did you enjoy the view? I’m sure the night might have been a good one, if only you weren’t dealing with these types of drugs,” Ayananto rambled. “What the heck happened? Where am I? I thought I made it out!” As she tried to catch her words, her father started to fume. “You wanted to leave? This heaven I’ve made for you, and you just want to leave it? You’re so ungrateful. I should have left you in that alleyway with your mother. Maybe then you would be grateful for all these things I do for your spoiled ass,” Ayananto screamed as he looked her dead in the eyes. “Every damned person in this cruel world would be dying to be where you are, Nayuta. DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND?” Nayuta finally caught her words. This fight won’t just be one-sided. What if he locks me back in there? She mustered up the courage to say, “Then get someone else. I can’t do this anymore.” She got up from the couch and punched him. In that punch, she channeled all of her rage and desire for freedom. Crimson-colored blood dripped down to the ground. The anger fueled her motivation to get her father to listen to her, to get her point across that she never wanted to be associated with this cruel man. A thought dawned on him: she was obviously resistant to the drugs and was now useless anyway. There were others before, there will be others after, he thinks to himself. “Fine then, just wait until you start crawling back, begging for me to let you back in, but that will never happen. You filthy pig, leeching off of what made you, you will die in those streets quicker than they did!” 29.
It went better than it should have. He’s just letting me go? With all that torture, she could destroy him and he was just going to let it slide, and throw her out like an unused toy? He grabbed her by the back of her shirt and dragged her down the stairs to the back exit of the building. She was thrown into the back alleyway. It was where the lowest caste were banished. “Go, these are your people now. Join the people exactly like you, the trash that needs to be exterminated.” Then the man disappeared into the darkness. As Nayuta’s vision started to fade once more, she thought to herself you’re lucky old man . . . my body can only resist this last dose for so long . . . She pulled herself under a dumpster, hidden from view, as the last thoughts drifted from her mind and the light in her eyes faded. Who knows, maybe this wasn’t the right decision. After all, did being his lab rat mean it would be a safe haven? The night passed quickly. When she woke there was only one thing she took note of: the breaking of a new dawn.
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Riding Free Nicholas Deverson Walking in my shoes would be like opening the school doors and rushing to my dad’s house to start up my quad or dirtbike. Holding the clutch, shifting down to first gear, and lightly holding down on the gas. Then you start rolling, picking up speed, and hop on the street to go from 10 mph to 50 mph, and you just feel like there’s nothing getting in your way. You’re finally free from all the complaining from your stepmom, brothers, and sisters. All you can feel is the wind smacking your face, and during those moments you are the most free.
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Inner Storm Cadis Espinal Holguin What is the first thought that comes to your mind when it’s pouring rain? Oh!! Rain fell on me, that was a dry husk of a man. Oh!! Rain fell on me, a pile of ashes coming from burning expectations. Oh!! Rain fell on me, a droughted man who can’t grow any seeds. As long as I have a few drops, I’ll be able to blossom, even in the hottest desert. Rain, I beg you, fall on me.
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A Miracle Misael Estrella Luna A movie named Forrest Gump changed my world. A kid is intelligent and special. Disability in his legs— he needs to use leg braces. One day, walking home with Jenny, bullies arrive and start to throw rocks. He tries to escape, then a miracle happens. Forrest starts to run and his braces shatter and fall off. He runs so fast— he never stops. If he goes somewhere, he goes running. He never gave up. He was always brave, and above all a great person with a good heart. 33.
Life lessons show humanity to others. In one day, your life can change. One day, I can have a miracle too.
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La Ley de la Vida Melb Fana Urena, Sadye Castillo Rodriguez, Ovid Hernandez, Stalin Cid Mejia Todas las personas nacen iguales, los seres humanos tienen derechos y libertades. El racismo, la opresión, explotación, pensamos que fueron errores inusuales. Podemos apoderarnos de sus tierras, cuerpos y recursos. La raza blanca ayuda arrastrar a la raza inferior a los dueños justificaron Las horrendas condiciones de esclavitud porque los no blancos pertenecen a una categoría menor. Y ahora Jurídico pasó de moda un progreso real, el hecho que la supremacía Blanca todavía está viva hoy en día pero ahora más difícil de identificar
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El contrato social, una sociedad basada en ideales y esperamos algún día estar a la altura de dicho contrario.
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The Law of Life Melb Fana Urena, Sadye Castillo Rodriguez, Ovid Hernandez, Stalin Cid Mejia All people are born equal, human beings have rights and liberties. Racism, oppression, exploitation, we think they were unusual mistakes. We can seize their lands, bodies and resources. The white race helps drag down the inferior race the owners justified The horrible conditions of slavery because the non-whites belong to a lesser category. And now legal fashion steps toward a real progress, the fact that white Supremacy is still alive today but now more difficult to identify
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The social contract, a society based on ideals and we hope one day to be high above the said opposite.
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My Shoes Brinish Figueroa To walk in my shoes means sometimes it’s hard to give a shit. To walk in my shoes means having one foot in Santo Domingo and the other in the South Bronx. To walk in my shoes means getting judged because of my attitude, without knowing what’s going on in my mind. To walk in my shoes means that some people absorb my energy in the way that they act. To walk in my shoes means that there is something deep inside me that keeps coming back up, even when I try to push it down. To walk in my shoes feels like a lone wolf, separated from my pack. To walk in my shoes feels like I have a hand over my mouth. As much as I try to say what’s going on in my mind, I can’t speak. To walk in my shoes is like a funeral. Everything is black and white.
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To walk in my shoes feels like an old coat in the back of the closet always forgotten.
To walk in my shoes feels like a light night with dark mornings. To walk in my shoes is to visit home, laughter, and a neighborhood that feels like family. To walk in my shoes is to have cousins that feel more like siblings, reunited every summer. To walk in my shoes is to have two true homes: one filled with sunshine and reggaetón and the other with tall buildings and graffiti art.
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New York Jose Garcia Guzman
I am from a city full of life. Where it’s cold and we say “Ayo, it’s brick!” But still go to the deli and cop freshly made bacon, egg and cheeses with a $1 Arizona I am from kids in white tees, Nike shorts, and Air Forces. From streets with the hydrants open, people scared to drive by so they don’t dirty their car. I am from the sound of Mr. Softee, kids racing to Lyons Square Park.
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I am from sirens up and down the block, trying to walk to school. I am from Sprayground bookbags and “You deadass still wearing that bag, nahhhh you ice!” Where people go to 47th St. just to get sturdy on TikTok. I am from loud bass, the floor shaking, you can hear it from down the street.
I am from up, rats Where you family doing
dirty trash bags stacked running past your feet. see people with chanclas and BBQ outside in the park.
Guess where I’m from. 42.
I Am From Yatsel Gil I am from la isla del encanto From Día de los Tres Reyes, mofongo, arroz, y pastel. I am from una familia que siempre estamos juntos Y siempre estamos en el teteo. De casi todos los vecinos son de otros países como Dominicanos, Mexicanos y Boricuas pero todos somos familia. De una familia donde siempre vamos a jugar dominos los viernes y sábados, También bebemos, festejamos. I am from una familia que hacen decisiones difíciles y depresivas pero siempre estamos unidos y celebrando algo exitoso Es que estoy llegando a los sueños que mi mama me dijo que podía tener y ser un buen hijo. I am from la playa de Buena Vista, Humacao de Puerto Rico, En el cual toda la familia estábamos juntos y pasándolo bien. Hacemos fiesta y hacer pollo asado. I am from mi mama por que ella siempre estuvo cuando la necesitaba y siempre ayudaba con mis metas, Y siempre me daba consejos para cuando sea adulto.
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I am from un sueño en el cual todo el mundo conozca mis talentos y soy un buen hombre hecho y derecho.
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Yo Soy De Yatsel Gil Yo soy de the enchanting island De Day of the Three Kings, mofongo, rice, and pastel. Yo soy de a family that’s always together And we’re always at the party. From all the neighbors from other countries like Dominicans, Mexicans and Boricuas but we’re all family. From a family where we always go to play dominoes on Fridays and Saturdays, We also drink and party. Soy de a family that makes hard decisions and depressive ones but we’re always united and celebrating something successful It’s because I’m reaching my dreams my mom told me that I could have and be a good son. Soy de the Buena Vista beach, Humacao, Puerto Rico, In which the whole family was together and having a good time. We party and make roast chicken. Soy de my mom because she’s always been there when I needed her and always helped me achieve my goals, And always gave me advice for when I become an adult.
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Soy de a dream in which the whole world knows my talents and I am a good and honest man.
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Wake Up Brandon Gonzalez When someone from another state sees New York City, they see the glamorous lights reflecting off the beautiful towers. They see the pretty green lady holding up her torch, allowing newcomers to be welcomed into the land of the free. They see the perfect American Dream that lies down in the city, but never sleeps. But that’s not my New York City. I’m not from Madison Ave.,Wall St.,or glittering Times Square. I am from Tremont, Fordham, and Hunts Point. When I wake up, I see smoke coming from the grills on the sidewalks, my uncles preparing food, and Romeo Santos blasting so loud you can hear it a mile away. When I wake up, I see water filling up the streets from the pump, while my cousins get bottles and buckets to fill them up and throw at each other. When I wake up, I see Mr. Softee come down the street, fifteen kids running with a size 4 chancleta on one foot, and a size 8 beat up sneaker on the other just to get that vanilla swirl ice cream. 47.
What you don’t see is the real city: the families, the laughter, the struggle, the Bronx culture.
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Try Walking in My Shoes Keyon Green You think you’ve had a hard life? Well I got news for you, buddy! You’re not the only special one around here. To walk in my shoes is to grow up seeing your mom and dad fight each other and you can’t do anything about it. A war that you’re in the middle of. To walk in my shoes, your father will want you to grow up fast, to be mature and self-sufficient, but you are having trouble doing so. To walk in my shoes you will have to try to explain to your own mom and dad Why you can’t do the things your siblings can. To walk in my shoes you think of yourself as a failure for not already being the man your parents need you to be. To walk in my shoes is to feel pressured and stressed all the time, trying to be the person everyone wants you to be. But you can’t, because you’re “different.” Try walking in my shoes.
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Morning Boches Jose Hernandez 7:30 AM “¡Levántate muchacho!” Morning chants that start every day. I hate it, Pero it’s my responsibility. Shower, Brush my teeth, Change, Put that special fragrance on that the ladies love. 8:05 AM Start walking, Airpods in, Put them to play, It’s gonna be a good day . . . B41 ahead Yeah, all packed, Might as well go back. Pero, no quieres escuchar que Mami te de un boche, So you hop on that jam-packed guagua. “Next stop Claremont.” Here she comes B11, Oh the love-hate relationship we have.
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8:15 AM I might be early. Nevermind, ten minutes until she arrives. Yeah, get ready to sing, you’re late . . . 8:40 AM Rushing through, But people don’t let me make it through. Walk up the stairs, baby shark doo doo doo . . .
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Why Would I Lie? Jose Hernandez
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Why
would
I
lie
When dogs get better treatment than I? Why
would
I
lie
When my color decides if I do something wrong or right? Why
would
I
lie
When my skin color decides if I live or die? Why
would
I
lie
If I can barely see the stars in the moonlight? Why
would
I
lie
If I’m looking as if I was the kitchen’s sharpest knife? Why
would
I
If I’m the bad doll with the brown eyes?
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Daniel’s Shoes Daniel Holguin What is it like to be in someone’s shoes? People think it is fun and games to make fun of somebody, to make jokes. But in reality, the things you are going through aren’t funny. It’s important to learn this lesson, to understand. What is it like to be in our shoes? If we could express our feelings, what we’ve been through, and what we’ve experienced. If only I could reveal the whole story. The stories I could tell: how COVID-19 took one of my family members and how it changed the happy kid I was before. What is it like to be in my shoes? A deeper meaning, but there are no easy words.
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What’s it like to walk in my shoes? What is it to be passionate about something? To be serious about something? To have something you wanna achieve? This drive is a part of my personality, and hopefully, my success in life. The key to life is you gotta be serious. Keep focus on the future. What is it like to be in someone’s shoes? It’s important to learn this lesson, to understand.
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Leesan Irvine “The Diabetic” Leesan Irvine To walk in my shoes means to have your life dependent on a liquid in a pen To walk in my shoes you have to understand pain and struggle To walk in my shoes you have to accept that life will never be the same You have to accept numbers telling you if you’re safe If you need insulin, or if you need sugar Walking in my shoes requires acceptance, bravery, and peace of mind Walking in my shoes means having a device on you at all times Walking in my shoes requires resistance from candy Seeing it everyday wanting to eat it but you can’t Because you know it will hurt you Walking in my shoes means you have to believe and have hope
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You have to pray that god is on your side Walking in my shoes means you need self control You need to watch what you eat You need people telling you how to live your life Walking in my shoes means learning not to die It means learning how to stay alive Walking in my shoes means you’re scared to live but act as if you’re fine You’d have to pretend that you’re like everyone else even though you’re different Walking in my shoes means having needles poking you throughout the day Walking in my shoes means being tired of living in pain
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To Change My World Jayden Lizardo To walk in my shoes is not to know if it’s a gunshot coming for you or a celebratory firework. To walk in my shoes is to feel like the trash people toss away and abandon, scared of losing someone you love deeply. To walk in my shoes is to hear the cars beeping at each other, everyone trying to make a move but everyone’s stuck. A maze you cannot get out of. To walk in my shoes is to feel fear, not knowing if the next minute I’ll see darkness. To walk in my shoes is to wonder if I’ll be blamed and innocent inside of a cop car. To walk in my shoes is to exist in a world where the social contract is broken for people who look like you. To walk in my shoes is to learn about Nat Turner, wondering if time will rewind, wondering if I’ll be the next “Say his name.” To walk in my shoes is to know that people are fighting and striking for rights and to stay alive. To walk in my shoes is to know that my parents’ blood, sweat, and tears ensure I’m well and fed. 59.
Despite all the negativity, to walk in my shoes is to feel happiness and love. To care about and be cared for. To walk in my shoes is to make the people I love proud. To succeed where I should fail. To walk in my shoes is to change someone’s mindset, to change my world.
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My Struggle Karla Llerena Usually you’ll walk and ignore all the weird stuff happening around you, Until you can’t ignore it any longer. You can’t ignore the trauma, the violence, the oppression. But you gotta suck it up and go about your day. You’ll think that your day will start well, Until you’re in another person’s shoes. To walk in my shoes is to get dragged down By the people closest to you. To walk in my shoes is to feel Like you’re on fire and not even water could put you out. To walk in my shoes is to walk outside And there will always be someone trying to talk to you. To walk in my shoes is to lose Your appetite because your mental health is not even straight.
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To walk in my shoes is to be running For your life and still have to go about your day. Because you have responsibilities and goals to achieve. To walk in my shoes is to lose Interest little by little in doing the things you enjoy. To walk in my shoes is to slack In school because you can’t slack at home. To walk in my shoes is not having a person to go to. What is it like to walk in yours? Yours truly, Karla
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Where Are You From? Karla Llerena I am from packed trains and buses. I’m from people asking you for money to buy drugs. I am from a corner store on each block. I’m from bacon, egg and cheese to chopped cheese. I’m from $1 Arizonas. I’m from gang violence, from people rolling dice in the street. I’m from coco, mango, cherry, $1 icies. I’m from the 4 train and 2 train. I’m from a toxic environment and toxic family. I’m from people not trusting us in relationships. I’m from blasting music every weekend, even on weekdays. I’m from rats in train stations, people collecting bottles and pompas every summer. I’m from chilling in front of the building and cops everywhere.
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I’m from everybody and their moms have pasolas. I’m from trying to grow flowers in a garden full of weeds. I’m from a growing community, growing myself. I’m from the Bronx. Yours truly, Karla
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Día de Resistencia Jonathan Lutterloh Día de Resistencia is about celebrating and remembering the activists and the immigrants that came to America looking for a better life, escaping gang violence or poverty. It’s a day when we try to give back to people for what they have done, to help all different kinds of people. We try to give back to families and communities. On the Day of Resistance, we are resisting the dominant narratives like police brutality and the racism and laws that Donald Trump made. Some people may say that all immigrants are illegal aliens, criminals, or invaders. But this dominant narrative is not true. In my opinion, the Day of Resistance is a counternarrative because it celebrates the immigrants that come to America, even though Donald Trump wants immigrants out of America. He made a law, and when people tried to come to America they got separated and deported. We help immigrants or any type of people and give them food, because they can be in poverty and Donald Trump doesn’t want them in the country. This is connected to our school. During the day of resistance we give clothing, coats, gloves, hats, and food back to the community. We are trying to help all types of people. “I do business with the Mexican people, but you have people coming through the border that are from all over. And they’re bad. They’re really bad. You have people coming in, and I’m not just saying Mexicans, I’m talking about people that are from all over that are killers and rapists and they’re coming into this country.” This quote by Donald Trump makes it seem like all immigrants in this country are bad and evil, but they come here to get jobs and 65.
make money to survive. The reason they come to America is because they are fleeing starvation, violence, and poverty. Many came to the U.S. because it is perceived as the land of economic opportunity. Our event was to tell the truth about why people come to America.
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Walk in My Shoes Dantees Martinez To walk in my shoes means to know why I am always late to school, To know what happens on the way to school every day. There’s lots of reasons to explain, such as my phone dying while I’m sleeping, My siblings take too long to get ready for school. My brother acts up during the mornings. I have to wait for my mother to get home in order for me to leave. Other times it’s traffic, slow buses, buses that never come, Eventually having to walk to school. I feel regret, coming late to school. I’m not learning everything I can to increase my brain capacity or my grades. I always try to rush to school to make it not as late as I would’ve been. But all you see is me walking in late.
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To Walk in My Shoes Kevin Martinez To walk in my shoes is to be from el tricolor, from Cinco de Mayo and a home that shelters five people. To walk in my shoes is to be from a neighborhood with drunks, garbage everywhere and ranchero blasting. To walk in my shoes is to get caught vaping that one time you do it in the park near school. To walk in my shoes is to be from family that isn’t rich or poor, a family that can work together and celebrate successes by partying. To walk in my shoes is to be from a family that hasn’t had the privilege to go to college, but to want to be the first one.
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To walk in my shoes is to make tacos and quesadillas every weekend, baby sisters making messes while we cook. To walk in my shoes is to not know if your father is going to come back from work, wondering if he has been picked up by ICE. To walk in my shoes is to feel like you’re not good enough, but giving up is not an option. To walk in my shoes is to treat music as a safe place, hyperpop smoothing out a rough day. To walk in my shoes is to be the friend that’s always there, the son you can always count on.
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Caminar en mis zapatos es caminar en el barrio, Camboya.
Mis Zapatos Joander Mateo
Caminar en mis zapatos es ver a los muchachos jugar en la calle. Caminar en mis zapatos es ver a los jóvenes volando chichiguas arriba de las casas. Caminar en mis zapatos es ver a los muchachos jugando bola y trompo en los patios. Caminar en mis zapatos es levantarse a las 6:00 y a las 7:00 con mi papá para darle comida a los gallos y a las gallinas. Caminar en mis zapatos es esperar a las 12:00 del dia para comer
Caminar en mis zapatos es ver a los adultos jugar domino Bebiendo cerveza y apostando huevos. 71.
My Shoes Joander Mateo Walking in my shoes is like walking in the neighborhood, Camboya. Walking in my shoes is seeing the guys play in the street. Walking in my shoes is seeing the young kids flying kites above houses. Walking in my shoes is seeing the guys play ball and spinning top in the patios. Walking in my shoes is waking up at 6:00 and 7:00 with my dad to feed the roosters and hens. Walking in my shoes is waiting until noon to eat Walking in my shoes is watching the adults play dominoes Drinking beer and making bets.
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Walk in My Shoes Teresa Molina It’s pretty hard to walk in my shoes. Everyone just sees me and judges. Many who went through the same thing ended up taking their own life. Many don’t realize I could have been one of them. But I wasn’t. Many questioned why I was quiet in middle school. Everything just goes back to all the trauma I had as a kid. Childhood trauma ruined me so much in many ways. I was always quiet because I was scared of speaking up. But now I’m not the same person as I was before. There’s never a day where I think it won’t get better. I started to speak up about things that were hurting me. It was the best thing ever. I talk more in class. I just have to leave everything behind. I had so much trust in people—until I realized not everyone is going to treat you the same way you treat them. It’s hard when you’re little; you try to predict the world just for the world to be the opposite. You can never predict what the world will be like in the future.
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Climate Change Teresa Molina Climate change A huge problem. I don’t want to act like it doesn’t exist. But I’m just a kid, I can’t do as much as I want to. Many people know it’s real but they’re not making any changes. Many want to spread awareness but don’t want to take action. Glaciers are melting. Polar bears are dying. Trees are being cut down. Animals are going extinct. Earth won’t be Earth without animals and plants. But those in power only care about money. They will regret it when it’s too late.
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The wealthy won’t care until it affects them. Many are focused on themselves rather than what’s happening around them. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, don’t say I was right, and especially don’t come running back to me when it’s already too late.
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How It Feels to Be Different Tin Nguyen I was just a sixteen-year-old innocent Vietnamese boy. Everyone thought I was a very calm, intelligent classmate. But no one knows more about me. No one knows what they’ve seen in my mind. You’ll probably never know what I actually went through. Now, let me share this story with you all. When I was a little boy, my world changed. When I was in first grade, I was the victim of bullying. It makes my learning skills and social skills much more difficult. That’s why I always stay quiet for the rest of the class and remain silent. It’s like a super glue that sticks between my mouth, while I try to talk and express myself but it won’t budge. Everytime I try to say something, I can’t. I have to say the words to myself. Sometimes bullying is too much for me, and it makes me depressed and furious. Like the fire keeps raging inside my body. I try to control myself but I can’t. I’m afraid. I’m sick and tired of tears that keep pouring between my eyes, and I tell myself, “Everything is going to be okay.” When I was little, before I came to the United States, I was too optimistic and too excited to go to school for the first time. But why do they treat me like this? After the dreams I’ve had? Should I blame myself for that? It makes me feel embarrassed when I keep thinking about the situation I’ve gone through. I was only 7 years old, and I was marginalized. I knew I was different than the others as I came here to America from Vietnam.
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But I do not let the abyss stop me from my dreams. I know I have to stay as strong as possible. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. I had to break the walls that I was stuck in the total abyss. I knew that being different isn’t a bad thing, it’s just that I felt special about myself. But the scar still remains in my heart. This is what it feels like to walk in my shoes. I’m very glad that I have let my voice be free inside my head. And spread in the people’s ears to let them know before you judge someone, you have to know about them. You have to walk in their shoes to experience what they have gone through in their life.
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Una Milla en Mis Zapatos Wilbely Núñez Yo camino y nunca he encontrado un destino ¿Pero cuál será el destino? Pues el destino es la felicidad Que cuando paro de caminar no tengo conciencia de la felicidad Cuando paro siento que estoy viviendo los días triunfando buscando un lugar Todos los días siento que estoy en un hoyo más profundo He visto muchos caminos y siempre me iré al camino incorrecto Para sentir lo que una vez sentí.
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A Mile in My Shoes Wilbely Núñez I walk and have never found a destination But what could be the destination? Well the destination is happiness That when I stop walking I am not aware of happiness When I stop I feel like I’m living the days triumphantly looking for a place Everyday I feel like I’m in a deeper hole I’ve seen lots of paths and I always head to the incorrect one To feel what I once felt.
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A Rosy,
Darlene Pena Puente
A rosy, noble world. Indigenous, Africans, Power and wealth, Rights and freedoms. Governments are bound to respect non-white people as full humans. Intelligent species were ruled by superior thought.
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Noble World & Franlin Perez
Africans were better off in Africa. they were the only ones to apply morality and ethics. Chosen-people were destined to be superior. Africans were in a category of power. Non-white nations free from colonial rule. Black and brown are more likely to make the ideal become a reality. Imagine a different future.
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Tropical Life Darlene Pena Puente I am from where my parents make sancocho in 90° weather. Where on Semana Santa my family makes the rare and anticipated habichuela con dulce. I am from where you never get no peace. It’s Saturday morning, 9:00 AM, boom bachata blasting, my mom screaming her lungs out to Anthony Santos. I am from people screaming outside, running to your barrel window and gate doors to see what’s going on. Peep the vecinas sticking their whole heads out the windows, sipping coffee, and son eating pan con queso. I am from where you’ll never starve because your neighbors are like your second family. Although the vecinas are always in your business, they’ll always come over con un plato de arroz. I am from grandparents, raising seven children in a little ranchito, poor but humble. I am from where a te amo is nothing compared to all the sacrifices she does for her kids.
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I am from multiple jobs, working through the night. From sipping on coffee to make it through the day. I am from where my parents will take any opportunity to work, so they can make some sort of cash in their pockets. I am from no rendirse nunca, perseguir sus sueños being a person uprooted to a new country trying hard to achieve goals that I couldn’t have had in my motherland. I am from having to get used to a different language, job opportunities denied, but no matter what, we always provided. I am from a country I would love to keep seeing grow in many different ways, despite the poverty, and the messed up system. The culture and the love from my people truly inspires me. I am from Santo Domingo.
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I Am From . . . Franlin Perez I am from my family, Working, beautiful, and amazing. I am from bachata and empanadas, From the Dominican flag and two parents
I am from a neighborhood filled From a family that says to always I am from parents that are worried that I might not From the hope that I will make it. I am from old family photos making me cry Because time passes by faster than you think. 85.
that I couldn’t live without. I am from coming to NYC to live a better life in America, From my mother’s cooking bringing back family memories. I am from the 2 and 5 trains, From white rice, braised chicken, twice-fried plantains. I am proud of being Dominican, Celebrating Thanksgiving, Christmas, and birthdays with family. with loud music and people talking, arguing, work hard. be successful in life,
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Without Her Christina Prado Morales Darkness. Confusion. Stuck. Full of overthinking the smallest things. My head just all over the place, consuming me bit by bit. Coping. The idea that he won’t open that front door again, and say hello in his calm and caring voice, give me a kiss on the forehead, and ask, “How was school today, Christi?” To hear his voice one more time.
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Grief. Emptiness. Heartache. I know I have her. She is the sunlight that I adore the most. I am in a blank room, being restrained. Painful memories replaying over and over. I would most likely lose my sanity, without her.
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Spanish Harlem Eliana Rivera Spanish Harlem, where you hear loud-ass music, pumps open for little kids. People screaming each other’s names out the window, Eliana, hola, ¿cómo estás? Turn the corner and see the “thugs” catcalling young girls that wear those tiny summer shorts. Old men playing cards or dominoes, listening to Frank Ruiz with a Corona in their hand and a cigarette in their mouth. See the kids pouring out the house with one size 4 sandal and the other a size 10, running for that Mr. Softee truck. A bunch of old women in the front talking shit in Spanish about the girls that wear their shorts too short with their crop tops too tight. Ella es demasiado joven para eso, no dejaría que mi hija usara eso o en mis días nunca usé eso. We know it’s a lie We all know they dressed like that in their twenties.
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Some lady walking by, on speakerphone, Talking about how her baby daddy doesn’t help her with her kids and doesn’t pay child support. Interesting and annoying at the same time. The nosy people sticking their head out the window or climbing out onto the window to hear an argument or a fight. The fire escape either full of plants or a big Puerto Rican flag. Wind’s blowing both. People dancing in the middle to Marc Anthony. Romeo Santos at the corner store. If you cool with the guy or he knows your parents, he’ll give credit. Hear the icy man screaming, “Coco, mango, cherry, rainbow!” Kids running to him if they had a dollar in their pocket. Spanish Harlem.
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The NeverEnding Sinkhole To walk in my shoes is to be scared to go outside because of my color & gender. To walk in my shoes is to be drained to the point of feeling like a walking corpse. To walk in my shoes is to take in the new beginnings to be happy again. To walk in my shoes is to be surrounded by people that love & hate me. To walk in my shoes is to have good grades. To walk in my shoes is to make sure that you complete your school work & house work, even if you have to stay up till two in the morning.
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Ayanna Rose
To walk in my shoes is to feel like a shadow is taking over you. To walk in my shoes is to feel like your brain is on fire. To walk in my shoes is to feel like when you speak, you’re stepping on needles. To walk in my shoes is to feel joy when you’re with people you love and trust. To walk in my shoes is to feel like your world is ending and beginning over & over. To walk in my shoes is to feel like you’re a castaway.
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To Walk in My Shoes Danyelin Sanchez To walk in my shoes means that you lose the one person you love, to feel pain and depression. To walk in my shoes means that you don’t sleep, insomnia and nightmares every night. To walk in my shoes means that no one loves you, to live in darkness, because the light has died. To walk in my shoes means that you see shadows at night, to feel lonely and like everybody hates you. To walk in my shoes means that you lose yourself, to feel like you will never be good enough. To walk in my shoes means to look in a mirror and believe all the bad things that they say to you. To walk in my shoes means that you have to live with a fake smile on your face everyday. To walk in my shoes is to be motherless, even though she promised to never leave you alone. To walk in my shoes means to not have the opportunity to say goodbye. 93.
To walk in my shoes means to feel cold, almost like death. To walk in my shoes means to cut your arms, to remind yourself that you are alive. To walk in my shoes means to lie, telling yourself that you are happy and everything is ok.
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From Two Worlds Genesis Tavarez I am from rice and beans for every meal, Where merengue at 7:00 AM is normal. I am from having my family there for me, always. A happy neighborhood where you feel the music vibrating at your feet. I am from a place where part of my family is so destitute they don’t always have three meals a day. We try to help. I am from palm trees. I am from the sun being so bright it makes me squint. I am from where my mom was born and raised. I am from where coming to New York was a such a big accomplishment it made my heart feel like it would jump out of my chest. I couldn’t contain my excitement. I am from bacon, egg and cheese, From the city that never sleeps. I am from where you can’t tell if it is a firework or a gunshot. Where everybody on your block is family. I am from where getting pulled over is frightening, Where gun violence is normalized, And young kids are forced to grow up too fast. I am from Santo Domingo and The Bronx.
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Our Last Christmas Genesis Tavarez My world changed when I got that call. I sobbed at the thought of never seeing you again. On my birthday, all I could think of was how you aren’t with us anymore. How much I miss your hugs and gifts. It was almost as if you enjoyed my birthday more than I did. Now we light candles for you in your absence on every holiday. Christmas will never be the same, it was your favorite. Why you? Why did this have to happen? Why did God let this happen to you?
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I could only think how much you must have suffered, how much pain you went through . . . My heart shattered, never the same. I will never forget, never forget this pandemic that took you from us. You will never be forgotten, your pendant will forever be over my heart.
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La Expectativa de una Chica Sabrina Tavarez Soy una revolución. Soy una vuelta de 180 grados. Soy un cambio. Soy una esperanza para esos sueños no logrados. Soy una chica con sueños. Con ganas de ser ella misma y no temer a estar condenada a un destino no deseado. Soy un refugio para mis amistades. Soy una mente que nunca para de maquinar pensamientos no deseados. Soy una chica que encuentra seguridad en la música. Soy una chica que detrás de su locura esconde tristesa en su interior. Soy una chica que de la noche a la mañana su vida entera cambió 180 grados. Soy un ejemplo de resistencia y perseverancia. 99.
The Expectations of a Girl Sabrina Tavarez I am a revolution. I am a 180 degree turn. I am a change. I am a hope for those dreams not achieved. I am a girl with dreams. With the desire to be herself without fear of being condemned to an unwanted future. I am a refuge to my friends. I am a mind that never stops engineering unwanted thoughts. I am a girl that finds safety in music. I am a girl that behind her madness hides sadness within. I am a girl that overnight her life changed 180 degrees. I am an example of resistance and perseverance.
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Teachers: Maya Petrillo Daniel Nohejl
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La Casa North 102.
Good Times Danely Adames This is an ode to rare quiet alone times. This is an ode to the bright daylight shining through windows. This is an ode to my bag of chocolate bars and half-full bag of BBQ chips. This is an ode to the soothing AC noises. To the peaceful room that holds my secrets, confessions, self-reflective moments. This is an ode to my dog Ollie who cuddles into me more with each movement, sleeping soundly. This is an ode to my online books.
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This is an ode to Google who 98% accurately answers my questions, helping pass time. This is an ode to fresh-smelling clean sheets. This is an ode to Ollie who is also a great listener. This is an ode to my little sister who interrupts my alone time to ask if she should buy or make a sandwich and what should be in it.
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In My Own Skin Odalys Alfaro Don’t be too hard on yourself Young and diffident Everyone’s body is beautiful Distinct and different Body standards, insecurity, Scrubbing my skin– Reviving my purity Upholding self-confidence has its kin Of loving myself . . . In my own skin
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Thorns and Roses Odalys Alfaro Some may call him toxic But I call him my first love This felt a lot like the thorns on the roses he had gifted me I wasn’t too sure if that was his call for pity Or that I was blinded by his love What felt like an ongoing cycle A fight in which wasn’t bound to end I was taught to fight for what’s yours To be there through the thick and the thin I was there for the passion, the affection, and the empathy Because I learned closed mouths don’t get fed But to me that sounds like nothing but a recipe for disaster As I sat there feeling famished, waiting for the things I craved the most There I was left for dead Expecting to be saved– After all the “I love you’s” and “I’ll never let this go” As I try to run back, you say you’ve lost hope Asking for nothing but commitment Maybe this was just god’s way in telling us no With the soul ties we’ve created I am left with a soft spot making it harder for me to let you go.
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The Motherland Adan Amaro Sunny and nice, soda with ice All it takes is three hours on flight I smell the salt in the air People here dance bachata Like they don’t care Sun is so bright Takes a fight with your sight There is no limit
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Here you party all night The water is clear People take shots and drink beer The party’s never over I say never no fear This weather is hot it last all year around But when it’s time to go, u get a big frown.
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Home Sweet Home Yvonne Ameyaw The deep voice of boys has been buzzing me all the time—the arguments when they are watching a soccer match, noise when they are playing video games, and most importantly, the intense quiet whenever the head of the house, my dad, is in the house. We become the most obedient children whenever my dad is at home. The heart of this place that is my home is filled with four boys and one girl—me. The place is usually loud, argumentative, and chaotic, with music playing, jamming, and a whole lot that sometimes makes me regret my life (lmao). This place is always silent when the boys are not around and turns into a “pub” when they are around. They always fight and make excessive noise when they are playing the PS5. The house is made with a beautiful brown couch and a wooden floor that when stepped on sounds like a cracked egg. My mom, my dad, and my brothers walk in and out of the house. The deep voice of my dad and the worrying voice of my mom is saying, “Please, can’t you go a day without arguing?“ whenever me and my brothers are quarreling.
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The smell of my mom’s cooking is everywhere. Whenever I enter the room, the first thing I say is, “Is the food ready?“ and she ignores me by saying, “Go wash your hands.” Never shall I forget the time my mom used to scold me whenever I went outside to play in the sand. My home is the place where I can be myself. My home is the place where I can watch K-drama movies, laugh out loud, and also talk freely. Never shall I forget the house where I was raised. I will always love my home. Home, sweet home.
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The Beautifully Mysterious Sky Lana Chevere I was raised by a grumpy man who disliked anything, and a loving woman who helped me learn my ABC’s, who brushed my hair everyday and taught me to be nice and respectful. From the swan and lake of my Florida elementary school and the kids who welcomed my scared, sad self on my first day of school. I was raised by family get-togethers. The arguments and solutions. From disliking one another to being as close as they were two days before. I was raised by flowing through songs and learning some steps. By feeling the music and moving in tune. By making mistakes in order to get things right. From Rihanna to Shenseea and Corpses, a song for every emotion, every occasion. I was raised by the beautifully mysterious sky. From the moon lighting the dark paths helping you find your way to the thousands of stars to wish on. Thousands of opportunities, thousands of encouraging, “You’ve got this.” From the peaceful night sky that listens to your every problem and helps you come up with solutions in the never judging silence. I was raised by Divergent and Chasing Red. From discovering who you are and not being afraid to show it. To fighting to keep what you want through the struggles. From reading book after book, story after story, living through others lives and feeling their pain. To being able to freely write about what I’m feeling to express my happiness, my pain, and confusion. 111.
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The Wrench Johan Cruz It was a nice sunny day, and I was working on doing an oil change for a black CRV. I had the car on the lift about to unscrew the cap to remove the old oil, like I had done a million times. When I was about to unscrew the cap off the oil pipeline, I forgot to get the bucket to dump out all the excess oil, so I went to get the bucket. I saw a guy arguing with my coworker. I wasn’t paying too much mind to it since we get angry with customers a lot. As I came with the bucket, I put it under the car to catch the oil that would be leaking from the car. Once all the old oil was removed, I moved the bucket to the side. I proceed to lower the car from the lift. Once the car was on the ground, I went to the office to get a new bottle of Mobil 1 oil. I was about to pour it into the car when I saw my coworkers running towards the random guy, who was throwing hands at my other coworker. My first act was to mind my business, but I proceeded to grab the biggest tool in sight. I grabbed a large wrench and walked up to the situation in my mind. I was thinking where I should strike him. I was about to swing at his head but I corrected myself when I then hit him in the knee. Once I hit him in the knee,
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I could feel his pain since he was on the ground holding his leg and yelling. I felt bad at first, but I was reminded that I was defending my shop and the people I’ve worked with for the past seven years, that I consider family. Reflecting on it, to this day I feel guilty since I didn’t have to hit him with it. I could have tried to easily separate the fight, but I could’ve gotten hit myself, but I was also protecting our property, so I think I made a 50/50 choice. Looking back on it, I feel bad for the guy but happy that none of my coworkers got more injured.
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Untitled Amir Jennings It was a chilly school day, kids weren’t that talkative. Classes were extremely boring, there weren’t many people paying attention in class. The windows were open to get that cold, calm breeze throughout the school building. The school was still loud but not as loud as usual. Classes went by slowly but finally here comes lunchtime. Lunchtime was the apex of the day in this building. Lunchtime came and everyone and their mother was enthusiastic compared to any period of the day. Myself was sitting . . . To be continued . . .
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An Ode to My Mom’s Presence Keisha Lewis This is for the woman whose presence made me find my peace. Her loud and firm voice that echoed in my mind, giving me a sense of comfort. Some things truly never change. The way her laughter fills up a room. The warm and cozy smell her clothes have, a signature smell. The smell of coming home from a long trip. Home: a place with a sense of belonging. This is an ode to the crescent moon shaped eyes forming in her face as she smiles. Her jet black, long hair falling onto my face as she holds me in her arms. The way her chest rises up and down as she breathes. The hot air breath falling onto my head. The way her acrylic nails move through my hair, as the sound of complaining escapes out my mouth. The way her warm cheeks feel, pressed against my face. This is an ode to a woman I always knew was near. Someone whose words I don’t need to decipher to understand. The relaxation washing over me as I touch her even in the slightest way. This is an ode to the woman who loves me the most.
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Untitled Samaya Lucas This is an ode to peace. Most of the time it’s hard for me to think and when I blink it’s blank its black nothingness. But when I’m in this place it’s very bliss. I feel a cool breeze when I hear Lauryn Hill and my mind is at ease. I don’t want this feeling to cease, so Siri can you please put it on repeat? I use Soundcloud because it’s free. But from the sounds to the clouds I feel at peace because, like Lauryn says, nothing even matters. As I walk through the green woods, all the critters scatter, but there is still no place I’d rather be right in front of me. Do you know what I see? A beautiful brown maple tree. There’s something on there. It’s yellow very mellow and still it’s a butterfly. Shall I touch it? I think I will. This is an ode to peace. As the sun shines I feel like I’m gonna go blind. The brighter it gets the more my feelings begin to unwind joy, comfort, happiness, and safety. Suddenly I begin to pace. I feel like you can see my emotions on my face but still I must find peace of mind.
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Through the Window Lizbeth Montero Look through the window, what do you see? Birds, cats, trees, houses, buildings, cars, people chatting, kids running around, big sky lines or big mountains. Now I will tell you what I see through my own windows. My first loving home, the sun is setting. What a beautiful view with a nice bright orange and yellow color. Right in front of me, I see small houses and a new building being built. On the left, cars filling up their tanks. On the right, the neighbors are fixing their cars. Below me people are chatting and kids playing around. My second home window, my small room. Two brown buildings. On the right the kitchen window and on the left the neighbors window. Below me is the stinking up trash, sometimes I will see rats and cats. In my third home window, I see the post office and the 44 bus stop and to the right more small windows. In the Mexican restaurant window, sitting down, I looked at the gloomy sky. The palm tree leaves are moving left and right. Looks like it’s about to rain. In the hospital window, trees turn to a bright fall color. Below me is the big chess piece and doctors and nurses eating out. People waiting in line to come inside the hospital. People running and speed walking crossing the street lights.
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The school window of the high school, the fencing gates on the window and the big giant trees. The wind blowing the bright green leaves, and the sun shining on them. Can’t wait for tomorrow to see through a bright new window.
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Paradise at Buffalo Wild Wings Aidan Persaud The heart of this place is that you can get two orders of wings for the price of one on Tuesday. Or is it that there are too many flavorful sauces to choose from? From the spiciest blazing sauce that leaves you sweating, your lips burning, to the sweet BBQ that you can just eat all day. The TV’s playing your favorite sport from 11:00 AM to 12:00 AM. It smells like fried cheese, salty french fries, and, of course, wings. There is a mini arcade with basketball games and one racing game. The whole place is orange and black, and the booths are filled with people eating and talking.
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The Gift of God Leslie Rojas The heart of this place is EARTH. The smell of nature winds. The winds that heal your soul. EARTH, the rustling trees and leaves that leave a sound of peace in your mind. EARTH, the flowers in every color and shape. The flowers that brighten your day and bloom a smile on your face. EARTH, the blue skies and shining sun that shine down on you and bring you tranquility. EARTH, the smell of rain that reminds you of the water that blesses your heart. EARTH, the dirt, the leaves, the branches that form the trees surrounding you. The roots that shape you and where you come from, the Dominican Republic, a small island on this EARTH. EARTH, the world, where everything started NATURE, the gift of the EARTH that we take for granted though it’s the heart of this place. So much more than a name.
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So Much More Than a Name Leslie Rojas “Leslie” a name, an identity, a girl. “Leslie” I hear every day from every woman in my family. “Leslie” my mother yells from her short-figured body. “Leslie yo no soy eterna” she says when I refuse to do a chore. “Yo no soy eterna,” “I’m not eternal,” you have to get an education and not depend on anyone. “Leslie,” you know I’m your mother, father and friend (soy tu madre, tu padre, y tu amiga) “Leslie” you were raised by women “Mujeres poderosas” powerful women “Madres solteras” single mothers “Mujeres fuertes” strong women “Leslie” she would scream over the loud Anthony Santos playing at 3am “Leslie” go play with your cousins, dancing in the rain in the Dominican Republic or playing in the “pompa” (the fire hydrant) in the loud crowded NYC neighborhoods “Leslie” my name, my identity, a teenager
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Blade Boy Felix Salcedo The classroom was incredibly loud and everyone’s laughter could be heard from across the hallway. My friends and I were sitting together at a huge table group in the middle of the classroom. I looked over to my side mid-conversation, and I saw one of my friends holding a piece of thin, white chalk, which I recognized was from our math teacher, Ms. Bargielski. She was using it earlier on her chalkboard during math class. Seeing that he stole this, I knew he was up to no good, but I ignored him and looked down at my giant blue pencil pouch. I took out this double size sharpener I had and started unknowingly fiddling with it. Just a few seconds later, I noticed that the screws on the blades were loose. Being curious and only 12 years old, I decided to unscrew the sharpener blades with the tip of my pen. This is where the bad part begins. I shoved the sharpener blades inside of my pencil pouch and zipped it up. At the corner of my eye I saw my friend again, holding the same piece of chalk. Except this time he was shaving the chalk with a pencil. I asked, “What are you doing? Why are you shaving the chalk?” My other friends started laughing when I asked him this, and he responded with “Well, I ‘borrowed’ this cocaine from Ms. Bargielski.” I initially had no idea why he referred to the chalk as cocaine, until I looked again and saw that he was shaving the chalk into a thin powder in his desk storage area under the surface of the table, so it was very similar to the way 125.
cocaine looks. I chuckled and asked him to pass me a small piece of the chalk, so I could do the same. I then realized it would be a perfect opportunity to use my sharpener blade to shave off the chalk under my desk. The blade made the chalk into a powder very quickly, and I didn’t have to put much effort into it. My friend looked over to me while laughing and said, “I could use a blade or two as well!” So I passed my other sharpener blade to him. We both continued doing this for the rest of the forty-minute class period, and the blade was being passed around from friend to friend, each of them wanting to see it. I decided to take out another sharpener blade from a tiny sharpener I had inside my pouch. From then on, a lot of things happened. After the next few hours, around five others ended up with a sharpener blade. They either got it from me, or people who I gave it to. It turns out, nothing good came from this at all. The next morning, my friends and I found one of our backpacks neatly sliced all over, along with someone else in our group who sliced their own sweater, and someone who got threatened with a sharpener blade to their neck after school. It was insane. Obviously, our assistant principal walked in and asked what happened. At the time she only knew about the backpack. A bunch of students start talking one by one about what they saw. Clearly confused, she asked, “Wait, who was using sharpener blades?” Which caused an uproar because everyone in class knew it was me, but they didn’t want to put the blame on me. Knowing that I would get caught anyway, I turned myself in and told her, “It was me, I gave out sharpener blades.” I spent the rest of the day in the assistant principal’s 126.
office, smelling printer paper and coffee the entire time. It was almost intoxicating. My heart was pounding, and I was almost on the verge of tears the entire day. I was being interrogated by the security guard, assistant principal, and the dean, too. They were all shocked by this event because something like this had never happened before in school. They even had to call the Department of Education to find out how to approach this situation. I felt extremely guilty, having caused all this. But after all, everything was my fault and I had to accept that. All my friends who were at the table were also questioned and forced to write official statements, including me. At the end of the day, I went back to my classroom to get my backpack and coat where people asked me “What happened? Did they finally let you go?” I nodded no, and was then told by my teacher to go back to the office again. During the last fifteen minutes I was there, they gave me a paper stating I would be suspended and that they will let me know what happens. They also said I could come to school the next day. I walked out of school anxiously. It was windy and raining outside. I ran home, shaking. As I took out my phone to call my mom, one of my friends from class saw me and knew what had happened. He noticed my paper fell out of my pocket as I took out my phone, and told me. I looked over at him, my eyes glowing red, and I thanked him. I could tell he felt bad for me, which made me embarrassed. I continued running with my phone in my hand, and I quickly called my mom. The situation was shocking to her, but she said she didn’t have time to talk to me because she was still working. So I just kept running home, as fast as I could. 127.
The next few days were a blur. I ended up at a NYC Suspension School for six days, and I still don’t understand how I was able to handle it without falling apart every five seconds. When I came back to my school, I was relieved. For the rest of the year, my teacher separated everyone’s desks into rows to avoid incidents like this. And from then on, I received the name “Blade Boy,” a name that still reminds me of how crazy I used to be in middle school.
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My Home Amya Small Wayne My home, my safe place, my mother, my father, and my family coming in and out
My home, where my little cousin runs around yelling “Mya, Mya” and playing with her toys and dancing like nobody’s watching to Diana and Roma “Play It Be It”
My home, where I watch the TV show Supergirl, listen to music, and scroll through social media on my phone, and so on
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My home, where we speak Spanish and English
My home, where we clean, laugh, have arguments, then make up.
My home, where the air smells fresh and clean, and where you can just be free
My home is my home
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Untitled Shaylee Suazo This is for the hood. I’m from the Bronx where you hear the 6 train go by and hear shootings and fighting here and there. I’m from Longfellow where all my childhood friends are from. I’m from Fannie Lou where the whole community loves me. Seventy-five is where I was raised with all my friends. Longfellow is a safe environment because I’m known as Red’s Daughter, The Big OG, LOL. I’ve been there for so long to the point that I’m accustomed to it. My love for it is like no other type of love. It’s either one way in or one way out. I’m from where the old lady sells cold water in the summer. I’m from where if you want to get a new pair of sneakers, go to “the bully,” which is Southern Boulevard. You either struggle or hustle. I’ve been through a crazy life—parents’ divorce, going in and out of shelters, going into new schools every month or year. I’ve been through trauma, felt alone and didn’t have no one to talk to. I moved to Florida with my mother for two months and left right when COVID started, April 2nd, 2020. I remember the day like it was yesterday. I moved in with the woman of my life, the one that took care of me since I was born. I had times when I cried in front of her because she knew all the trauma I’ve been through growing up. Sometimes I wish my life wasn’t so messed up, but it happens for a reason. People would never know because they think I live a good life and have good parents, but the only ones I can count on are my grandparents and uncles, especially my dad.
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This is for my grandma that raised my crazy self. Besides all the bad stuff I’ve been in, I’ve done a good job staying with my family. I feel happier, gained happy weight, eat more often, chill with my uncles here and there, and talk to my grandma like she’s my own best friend. This year, I started high school and met new people in my life. I met Ayannah, Amber, Adan, Samya, Jacob and more. The people I’ve known for a long time, Kimora and Ambar, I grew up with them. The first day of elementary school, I fought with them here and there and bothered them, but they know I love them. God has been so good with me because he brought good people into my life—people I wouldn’t think I’d have. In the beginning of the school year, I couldn’t express myself, and my real friends noticed. They kept their distance to give me a lesson. I spoke to them and told them that and they understood. To this day, I sit there and think, Why do they still stay when I’m the most messed up person and not a good friend? They told me why. They know I’m still young, and I’m going to grow out of it. They know I’m still learning new things, and it’s my first time being around older people. They told me I’m not a bad person. I just don’t know how to express myself. I feel like they are the best, and I appreciate all of them. They stay on top of me about everything—to do the right things, to stay out of trouble and find peace. If I’m ever going through anything, they will be there. They are the best people, for real. My biggest love is to my teachers. They annoy me, but I know they want to see me succeed and be better in life. They want to see a diploma. I love them because they talk to me about the real world. I never loved teachers, but I love the ones I met this year. That’s my life.
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The School Shabar Taylor Jr. When I go to school, I hear people talking and walking. I see people in classrooms sitting on chairs in front of desks and sitting next to their friends. I smell that stinky-ass school food. I feel the pens and pencils and desks. In school, I see teachers in front of the classroom teaching and all the students’ attention on them. I see my friends and fellow classmates. When I’m at home, sometimes I wish I was in school. When I’m in school, sometimes I wish I was at home.
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Pure Chaos Shabar Taylor Jr. It was in eighth grade in my old middle school, P.S. 214, in the middle of the day. We had a sub because our teacher was out. Everyone was on their phones doing no work. Two kids had been beefing for days. Then, out of nowhere, one of them got up from his seat and sucker-punched the other. They started fighting on the floor. Everybody got up, circled around them, and started recording the fight. People from other classes began to walk in and just stand there watching. People wearing blue shirts with the school logo were just running and circling them. The sub tried to stop the fight, but we were all yelling and laughing, including me. I was dying of laughter. It was pure chaos. No one stopped the fight until the dean and teachers came in. Afterwards, I felt bad for the kid. Honestly, I should have stopped it.
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Teachers: Amanda Baylor Chloe Evans-Cross
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La Casa South 136.
Taking a Presence for Granted Madison Cohen
She’s always smiling walked around school together
loved Tiktok dancing
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What You Always Expect Is What You Take for Granted Madison Cohen A house and a home are two different things. A house doesn’t have that feeling of warmth like moving into a house with no furniture or shoes without the lace or a very cool car with no tires, constantly feeling like something is missing and constantly wanting more. A home is more welcoming and warm like going to a friend’s house— an unfamiliar feeling of love rather than a familiar or expected love from your parents
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Dreaming Tatiilynn Dau gh
e
rty
big
am Dre
or
d on ’ anyth
ing
a dre
t
is po s
s ib l e
just b
e
creative
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m
Kisses to the Sky Tatiilyn Daugherty You never know when will be the last time you see your loved ones. Appreciate them while they are still here. Yes, they might get on your nerves, but it’s all love. Fighting with your loved ones is not worth it. Just tell them you love them, because once they’re gone, they are never coming back. If I could bring my brother back, I would, but all I can do is live with the fact that he is never coming back. It’s not easy, but all you can do is take it day by day.
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In My Dark Room Wislenny Nunez Estrella Where happiness gone?
darkness is more seen than light
people hate not love
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Butterflies Wislenny Nunez Estrella Home is a safe place
but doesn’t make you feel free
FREEDOM makes you free
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Silence Wislenny Nunez Estrella Silence is something very common. I’m here to talk about it because I’ve been through this. Silence has turned into a habit that whenever I try to be loud, I can’t! What I mean is when I try to be loud, I act like something that I’m not. For example, I can give a smile, but deep inside I am destroyed.
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Dreams Jeremy Flete
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Our dreams are based
on what fantasies let us see
from reality
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My Mother Baba Ka I love my mother
because she is awesome and
she is beautiful
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Silence Baba Ka People might be silent so others won’t know how they feel. People might be silent to get what they want. People might be silent to be locked in focus. People might be silent to not be disrespectful to others. I am silent so I won’t get in trouble. I am silent so I won’t hurt anyone’s feelings.
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My Identity Marvin Massey I am my own peace
myself is who I became
and I’m cool with that
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How I See Joy Marvin Massey Joy gives me happiness in life. Some people don’t have happiness, but it doesn’t mean you can’t smile. Stay with your friends for a while and have at least a taste of a joyful moment in the dark room, in the corner inside your chest, and give things a rest like the way you can. That’s what joy means. It actually could be or mean anything to someone else, but in the end it should make you smile
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am e r D y M ne u N Jostin
To
n o b o dy
be c
om e
a
z
chef
ch an g
w o ul d
e
my
e tru
my
dr e a m
will
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e com
d min
My Silence Jostin Nunez I have resisted talking because sometimes I am telling a person how my day was or something exciting that happened on my way home, but I feel like that person isn’t paying much attention. They’ll say, “Can you repeat it again?” and I just feel like I don’t wanna talk anymore. Silence has impacted me in many ways, good and bad, but mostly bad because it transforms me into a quiet guy who wants to be alone all the time. I can’t be the same guy who expresses himself. Now I will be silenced.
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Black Don’t Crack Joshua Oppong Roses sometimes red
Jos and I like the chicken
because we is black.
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Mask Off Joshua Oppong Invisible means to be neglected by society so that you question your own value. Invisible means to question whether or not your existence is worthwhile. Invisible means to neglect everything positive in your life and focus on whatever is going wrong. Invisibility is the constant struggle to make a name for yourself, while also feeling as if your voice isn’t heard. Invisibility is the constant wanting to die, but also wanting the others around you to live. The feeling of invisibility is a form of anxiety which often derives from, and turns into, depression. Invisibility is the inability to be yourself due to being scared of the judgment you’d get from speaking your mind.
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Drawing Frankchely Perez I enjoy drawing
it makes me fade from the world
I’m finally free.
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Identity Frankchely Perez Identity means that I’m someone who is always happy all the time, and who doesn’t care about what other people think until they say something I don’t like. Sometimes people identify me as my mom or both of my grandmothers, but they don’t get the chance to know the real me. To not hear my name feels like I’m a nobody. Being called by another name feels like I am outside of myself. The relationship I have with my outfits is something that is also my identity. My outfits show my artistic self, my graphic-tees, curious, happy self. When I’m with my friends, I feel I can express myself in my language and with words. I’m not only good at speaking English while I’m in school but also at speaking Spanish. When it comes to some of my family members, I feel like I could express myself without being judged, but at the same time I have to ask myself, Do my friends know the real me? If I say yes, then I’d be lying to myself. Truthfully, the real me doesn’t like to talk a lot. I’d rather spend my time alone, but when people meet me, I’m always excited and ready for the real world.
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un es
Th
t
righ
b iny
sh
Smile motivated as always
Jatniel Perez
I st
ill h
ave
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my
sm
ile
Thinking about Twenty Years from Now Jatniel Perez I don’t know what I will become in twenty years, so it’s hard to think about it. Thinking if I will succeed in life, if I will have a family, conquer college, not be a failure, or still be alive. I guess I don’t like thinking about my future too much, since it sometimes scares me. It gets me thinking about what my future could become. To me, life is like a video game. Every choice you make has consequences and leads you to a different route and ending. I will either get a good future or a bad future. The good future will be that I get everything I want in life, but I know for certain that I won’t get everything I want. Thinking about what you want to be twenty years from now is good since it gives you motivation to proceed and keep working hard. The thing is, it distracts you from what’s happening now. Yeah, it’s good to have dreams and have plans on your future, but what are your plans for right now? What are you going to achieve? I guess my advice is not to think about the future too much since you have a lot of things going on in the present to deal with. Instead of thinking and dreaming about being famous or a big shot, how about you start now? Get creative so you will be ready to make the perfect future you want. Signed, The Blue J
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Acknowledgments In our Young Writers Publish program, 826NYC develops creative writing projects with classes of students and teachers in schools throughout New York City. Ninth and tenth grade students from Fannie Lou Hamer Freedom High School dug deep to explore themes of family, identity, community, and social justice in poetry and prose, from haikus and collaborative poems to short stories and personal essays This Is What It Feels Like is a compilation of the original work of half of the twelve participating classes, alongside To Walk in My Shoes, which captures the work of the other half. A huge thank you to the 826NYC teaching artists, J’miah Baird, Daniel Goulden, and Jaydra Johnson, for creating classrooms where students were able to express themselves in so many ways, and stretch to try new things with their writing. Your support, encouragement, and consistency helped our young writers tap into their imaginations and memories to produce such moving work, and your care in helping them brainstorm, write, and revise throughout this project was invaluable. We are particularly grateful to the many educators at Fannie Lou Hamer who made this project possible across twelve classes: Amanda Baylor, Aleta Brown, Daniel Colon, Olivia Corti, Paula Dallacqua, Chloe Evans-Cross, Astrid Gonzalez, Sarah Moore, Daniel Nohejl, Maya Petrillo, and Yancy Sanes. Thank you for inviting us into your classrooms and facilitating this creative collaboration. Your hard work, vision, and steadfast dedication to your students allows them to flourish as young writers and thinkers. At 826NYC we depend on the dedicated editing and design cohort that make our publications a reality. Thank you to Vanessa Friedman and Jaydra Johnson for overseeing the editing, proofreading, and design of this book. Thank you to Ling Zhu for designing such a beautiful book for our students. To copy editors and proofreaders Nisha Lauren Aoyama, Ennis
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Bashe, Christine Corbin, Madison Durhman, Anna Kodama, Dena Levitz, Amy Linstrom, Tiana Moe, Kris Pajarito, and Makayla Smith, for their careful attention to each of the student’s pieces, thank you. Thanks as well to Aimee Lam for the translation of Spanish-language works in this anthology. For their ongoing support of 826NYC’s school-based programs, huge thanks to 826 National, the Amazon Literary Partnership, The Jane Friedman Anspach Family Foundation, Con Edison, The Find Your Light Foundation, The Hawkins Project, International Paper, The Rona Jaffe Foundation, The Kettering Family Foundation, The Minerva Foundation, The Resnick Family Foundation, The Yelp Foundation, and Youth, Inc. This program is supported, in part, by public funds from the New York City Department of Cultural Affairs in partnership with the City Council. The program is also made possible by the New York State Council on the Arts with the support of the Office of the Governor and the New York State Legislature. Additional support comes from the National Endowment for the Arts. To find out more about how National Endowment for the Arts grants impact individuals and communities, visit www.arts.gov. 826NYC is grateful to the many individuals who support our work. To see our full list of supporters or make a donation, please visit 826nyc.org/donate-us. Thank you especially to the 826NYC staff for their behind-the-scenes support of this project, from curriculum development and the book-making process to volunteer recruitment. Finally, thank you to the students at Fannie Lou Hamer Freedom High School for taking risks with your writing and sharing your words with us. Writing can be a challenging and hopefully fun process, and your dedication to your craft and your vision shines through in these pieces. We are all excited to see what you’ll write in the future!
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826NYC Location and Leadership
826NYC and The Brooklyn Superhero Supply Co. 372 Fifth Ave Brooklyn, NY 11215 718.499.9884 www.826nyc.org
Staff
Joshua Mandelbaum,Executive Director Janna Cisterino,Development & Communications Manager Rico Denard,Store Associate Chris Eckert,Store & Operations Manager Vanessa Friedman,Publications Associate Summer Medina,Volunteer & Programs Coordinator Stella Raffle-Wax,Store Associate Mandy Seiner,Volunteer & Programs Manager Naomi Solomon,Director of Education
Board of Directors
Michelle McGovern,President Ted Wolff,Vice President Ray Carpenter,Treasurer Kathryn Yontef,Secretary Michael Colagiovanni Jen D’Ambroise Liza Demby Jamal Edwards Amir Mokari Sheila Peluso Katie Schwab Danielle Sinay Andrew Sparkler Alyson Stone Maura Tierney Thom Unterburger Sam Valenti
Teaching Artists J’miah Baird David Ewalt Willie Filkowski Daniel Goulden Varud Gupta Jaydra Johnson
826NYC Programs Write After School Reading and writing go together like peanut butter and jelly. Write After School students work alongside 826NYC staff and volunteers to build their reading, writing, social-emotional skills and unleash their imagination as they play and learn about the power of language. Three times a year, students revise their creative writing for publications that are printed in English and Spanish and shared with families, volunteers, and community members at celebratory readings.
Write Away Workshops Young writers come together in Write Away Workshops to explore a multitude of genres and subjects and to develop their voices. Groups write freely and participate in imaginative writing activities and lessons. Whether it’s a song, a piece of climate justice sci-fi, or a nature guide, young writers leave the workshop with a piece to be proud of, as well as a newfound understanding of the topic, and new friends.
Write All About It In Write All About It, reporters from grades 5-8 learn how to conduct a great interview, how to write a classic news story, and more importantly, how to sniff out where the great untold stories of Brooklyn are hiding. We focus on hyper-local news to see how it connects to what’s going on across the country and around the world. Student work is published regularly in The 826NYC Post on 826NYC’s Medium page.
Young Writers Publish Turn your classroom into a creative writing lab. During Young Writers Publish residencies, 826NYC teaching artists collaborate with educators on creative, impactful, curriculum-aligned projects that transform students into published authors. Residencies run from six weeks to a full year, depending on the project. Each Young Writers Publish culminates in a book, newspaper, zine, podcast, film, or performance featuring your students.
Write Together 826NYC hosts classes across New York City for Write Together: an interactive writing experience that encourages creative expression, explores the elements of storytelling, and strengthens writing skills. Elementary-aged classes collaborate on illustrated children’s books, middle schoolers choose their own adventure, and high schoolers learn the art of memoir writing during a fast- paced and whimsical 90 minute narrative program.
Teen Writers Collective Teens are the next generation of literary leaders. That’s why we launched the Teen Writers’ Collective. The collective brings together young writers from around the city to explore the art of writing and literary citizenship. They are a community of passionate and creative peers, serve as 826NYC youth leaders, and inspire younger students and peers across the network.
Dungeons & Dragons & Writers Dungeons & Dragons, the epic fantasy role-playing game where players craft characters to take on magical quests that can change with the roll of the dice, has a home at 826NYC. A band of adventurous authors in grades 5-8 play out an entirely original tale and chronicle their fantastical deeds in character point-of-view journals, histories, and scene writing. Sometimes the greatest gift is the friends we make — and make up — along the way.
Student Publications Through our programs, our volunteers work with students to help them create stories, poems, and ’zines. Because we believe that the quality of students’ work is greatly enhanced when they are given the chance to share it with an authentic audience, we are committed to publishing student works. By encouraging their work and by guiding them through the process of publication, we make abundantly clear that their ideas are valued.
