








I chose this semester’s magazine theme of “defining family” because I know family means many different things to different people. Parents, sisters, best friends, uncles, longtime neighbors, partners — they can all be family, and each family’s journey is unique.
When I think of family, I think of my mother and father, who cheer me on as I pursue journalism, as well as who supported me in my decision to leave Northwestern University and come back home to Los Angeles. I think of my brother’s humor, kindness and resilience. I think of my closest family friends who immigrated to the United States from El Salvador for a better life. I think of their adorable, smart and mischievous children, whom I love deeply.
For the many Angelenos and Pierce College community members spotlighted in this issue, family means acceptance, sacrifice, support, love and more. Thank you to every person who took the time to speak with us for this issue and who shared their stories.
Thank you to the student editors, photographers, reporters and illustrators who worked to make this magazine well-rounded and impactful. Many of the magazine staff members are new to journalism, but they pushed themselves and created a diverse body of work.
Thank you to the publication advisers, who guided me through the process of putting together the magazine and who put up with my worries and ramblings. The Pierce College Media Arts Department is an amazing place because of them.
As graduation nears and I prepare to transfer to UCLA in the fall, I look back on the work we’ve done at Pierce College’s publications with immense pride. As a Pierce journalism student, I’ve learned many skills, met new friends and amplified the voices of the campus. I’m honored
that I was able to serve as editor-in-chief of The Roundup News and Bull Magazine. Through these publications, I grew on my way to becoming a professional journalist. What does family mean to you? For me, it means a lot of things, and one of those is community — the kind of community found in the Pierce College Media Arts Department.
By Delilah Brumer Editor-in-Chief
The Bull Magazine Spring/Summer 2025 A Pierce College Student-Run Publication
Delilah Brumer Editor-in-Chief
Emily Garcia Reporter
Cosette Gerl Reporter
Victor Montiel Photographer
Katya Castillo Managing Editor
Alyssa Lupercio Reporter
Avelia Mira Reporter
Gabrielle Lashley Illustrator
Benjamin Hanson Contributing Photographer
Jill Connelly Adviser
Jeff Favre Adviser
Janet Harper Reporter & Photographer
Myraneli Fabian Contributing Photographer
Daniela Raymundo Contributing Photographer
Morgan Keith Adviser
Sean McDonald Adviser
By Alyssa Lupercio
Phyliss Siebold opened her Facebook 12 years ago to a post of a white poodle terrier mom and her four 19-day-old puppies. The puppies were dumped at a shelter and going to be euthanized if nobody took them in to foster. So, Siebold contacted the rescue to let them know she was willing to take the dogs.
The rescue employees showed up to her home and dropped off the animals. Their eyes were closed and they fit in the palm of her hand. The stress of the shelter environment caused the mother of the puppies to not be able to feed them, so Siebold would soon have to bottle feed them.
This led the Siebold family to start fostering pets. Regardless of the challenges that come with foster pets in a household, this journey was exciting for them.
“They were over the moon,” Siebold said. “My kids loved it. The neighbors loved it. When I had puppies, my doorbell would be ringing. Like, people would tell people, ‘The house has puppies, go visit.’ People I didn’t even know were knocking on the door to come see them.”
The Siebold family is a part of the 8% of households that foster pets in the United States. Fostering animals provides support and a temporary home for animals to prepare them for their forever home. According to the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (ASPCA), around 6 million animals are taken to U.S. animal shelters every year, and about 4 million of those animals are adopted.
Fostering pets can increase the likelihood of adoption. According to a study by Mary Lou Fulton Teachers College, foster-to-adopt programs have an adoption rate of 73%.
At the beginning of her family’s journey, Siebold fostered dogs during the week and had a schedule to take them to the shelters on the weekends for viewings, hoping that they would be adopted.
Family friends ended up adopting
the mom and three of the puppies, because they were often going over to Siebold’s home. Siebold decided to keep and adopt one of the puppies herself.
Siebold and her family have fostered 30 dogs in the last 12 years. When they first started fostering, her daughter was 5 and her son was 8.
Having families foster is helpful because many animals in shelters need to be exposed to being in a new environment for them to be on the road to adoption.
“Some of them need socialization and so, because I have kids and my kids were young and there were always people in my house and I had a busy life, we were always running everywhere. The dogs got exposed to people and kids and so I was able to socialize some of them,” Siebold said.
Three years ago, Siebold learned of a new foster dog whose owner died. The dog had been dumped on the street and needed a place to stay. The rescuers found the teacup terrier poodle with only a couple of teeth, mammary tumors and blindness crying in the bushes.
When she first saw the dog, she spoke with the rescue and wondered if fostering would be beneficial for the dog, as she looked to be in terrible condition. Siebold said the teacup poodle got attached to her. The foster dog was blind, walked on three legs and was older, so Siebold contacted the rescue and told them they needed to find someone
that could give her all the attention she required and needed. They convinced Siebold to stick with the dog through her surgeries and rehab, and they would look for a different foster family once was ready. Siebold never reached out again to find the dog another foster, and she has now had the teacup terrier poodle for three years.
“My life is like having a baby. Because like when I leave every day, it’s like what am I doing today, what am I doing with her?” Siebold said.
Siebold’s children grew up fostering dogs and it was familiar to them. She shared that her daughter is getting ready to graduate high school and head off to college.
“My daughter is going to be a veterinarian. That’s what fostering did,” Siebold said.
Fostering heavily impacted Sie-
bold’s family, as her daughter’s career path was inspired by fostering from a young age. It came with challenges of having to experience a loss of getting attached to an animal and then having to give it up. But, it was rewarding to be a part of the dog’s journey.
“You see the family that’s adopting them and how excited and how much in love they are with them already, so it touches your heart to see that,” Siebold said. “It’s so rewarding and so much fun. You save two lives, because you rescue one and make room for another.”
Helaine Kroll was always a pet owner. She got a message from someone asking if she was interested in fostering a 3-year-old German shepherd. Kroll was told the dog needed to be rehomed because she was too much for the family, but was great with kids.
However, Kroll discovered this was not the case. The process of Kroll receiving the dog was rushed, and the dog was dropped off to her within days.
“She latched on to me so hard and so fast that she became an instant protector inside my own home,” Kroll said. “She wouldn’t let my daughter near me, she’d bark at anybody that came near me, she’d bark aggressively at anybody that came near me, she’d bark incessantly at anybody that had a conversation with me.”
While on a walk with the foster dog, Kroll was cleaning up after the dog when a man walked by, causing the dog to go into protection mode. With concern, Kroll decided to reach out to the people she rescued the German shepherd from, but they were persistent that she keep the dog regardless of the concerns she had.
This foster dog showed behaviors of aggressive protection toward Kroll, making it difficult for her to have people over at her home.
Considering that many foster an-
imals can be aggressive or scared coming into a new environment, many foster families turn to training.
Sara Levy-Taylor is a certified companion animal behaviorist and professional dog trainer with more than 15 years of experience. Around 40% of her clients are dogs who are rescues or fosters.
Challenges may vary for families who foster pets and have younger children. Levy-Taylor shows pet owners how to respond to animals and informs them of reasons why an animal might be having a difficult time adjusting to a new home.
Children are expected to be curious when a new pet enters their home. It is normal for them to want to pet and hug the dogs without knowing the precautions they need to take.
“It’s important to recognize the body language from a dog and give the dog the choice to approach,” Levy-Taylor said.
Children can tend to be a bit noisier, so Levy-Taylor gives families techniques on how to manage those situations.
“There needs to be ground rules in place so you know when the dog is sleeping, if the dog is eating, to be left alone,” Levy-Taylor said. “The dogs can bond with any age including with babies, but really it’s just about supervising and being responsible, and everyone being on the same page with how to interact with the dog, and recognizing when the dog is not comfortable.”
Even though she had a more challenging experience with fostering and did not continue to regularly foster, Kroll shared the true meaning of fostering and the impact it has on not just her, but on the animals.
“When foster families step up and take dogs into their home they make room for more dogs to come out of shelters,” said Kroll. “It’s about the animals, not about me.”
Panda, a four-legged resident of the Siebold family home, peeks her head out of the front gate in Sherman Oaks, Calif., on April 22, 2025.
Article and photos by
Delilah Brumer
Katie Hirahoka was running on two hours of sleep, but as a new mother with an energetic, wobbling toddler to take care of, this wasn’t unusual. As she paced around the United States Army center in Germany, Hirahoka didn’t give much thought to her lack of rest or the fast approaching deadline for her final exams in her college courses.
She couldn’t spend her bandwidth on those worries, because more than 3,000 miles away, soldiers in Hirahoka’s unit were trekking through the arid terrain of Afghanistan. It was the summer of 2021, and the soldiers were relying on Hirahoka, who was their staff sergeant, to help coordinate their mission as they pulled refugees out from a country teetering into chaos.
“It was hard to balance it all, but
my unit was deployed and I had to focus on my job,” Hirahoka said. “But then I would come back from my missions and I would reunite with my son, and all those sacrifices felt like they were for something.”
Hirahoka, 28, spent eight years in the army, before leaving to focus on higher education and support her son, who is now 5 years old, as a single parent. She is now a mathematics and economics major at Pierce Col-
lege, with hopes to transfer to a fouryear university in the fall. Although Hirahoka is no longer in the service, she stays connected with the military community through the Pierce Veterans Club and the Veterans Resource Center.
“School is a huge priority for me, but it’s not easy going to college either,” said Hirahoka, who was the president of the Veterans Club last year. “My friends from the service are a really good support.”
Veterans make up approximately 3% of students at Pierce College, and according to the U.S. Census, there are more than 2.6 million military families in the United States. Many of these families create community and support one another, but they also face challenges such as frequent travel and mental health struggles, according to Shelley MacDermid Wadsworth, the director of the Military Family Research Institute at Purdue University. In a 2023 survey of military families by the non-profit Military Family Advisory Network, 59% of respondents said they experience loneliness.
“Military families face all the same challenges that civilian families do, and there are things that are over and above for them, especially because military families are generally quite young,” MacDermid Wadsworth said. “But military families are very adaptable.”
For David Shats, an engineering major at Pierce College and a former U.S. Marine, the decision to enlist took time. He would occasionally eye a military recruiter’s glossy business card that sat on his desk, unmoved among the clutter. At first, he couldn’t understand why he hadn’t thrown it away. Most of the men in his family had served in the Russian military before immigrating to the United States, but the prospect of Shats donning a uniform seemed to be more of a far-away whisper than a plan.
Still, the idea lingered as Shats
stumbled apathetically through his community college classes. So, he picked up the phone. Maybe it was to make his grandfather proud. Maybe he didn’t realize the toll it would take on his mother. More than anything, Shats enlisted to find a path for himself.
“The last thought every single person has before they sign the dotted line is, ‘Fuck it, I’m doing this, I’m climbing this mountain,’” said Shats, 24. “My mom cried when I told her, but they all came around eventually. She now has a sticker, ‘Proud parent of a U.S. Marine,’ and what once devastated her is now her biggest pride and joy.”
Shats served for four years and ended his time in the Marines as a corporal. He spent most of that time deployed in Japan and South Korea. Sixteen hours ahead and half the globe away from his family and friends in Los Angeles, Shats said the distance was a challenge. But being a Marine was worth it for him, because it taught him to be responsible and disciplined, he said.
“All the men in my family basically had the point of view that they think all men should serve, and that it’s part of character building, and part of me has started to agree with that,”
Engineering major David Shats stands near the Veterans Resource Center at Pierce College in Woodland Hills, Calif., on April 28, 2025.
Shats said. “The person I was before and the person I am now, at its core, it’s the same, but it’s a flipped image.”
Hirahoka, Shats and many other veteran students at Pierce use the Veterans Resource Center on campus to access resources for basic needs, get assistance with financial aid and academics and come together. The resources that the center provides can make a significant difference, considering that one in five military families experience food insecurity, according to the Military Family Advisory Network survey.
Curtis Smith, the coordinator of the Veterans Resource Center at Pierce, said he “thoroughly enjoys” supporting veteran students in his role. Smith began his role last year.
“Our veteran students have a lot of life experience and really contrib-
ute to the campus,” Smith said. “The VRC is an avenue for them to get together and hang out with other veterans, regardless of which branch they’re from.”
“The person I was before and the person I am now, at its core, it’s the same, but it’s a flipped image.”
David Shats Veteran student
Beyond the VRC, much of the support for veterans on campus is provided by other veterans, accord-
ing to Hirahoka, Shats and Smith. The Veterans Club, which Hirahoka previously ran, helps fill that gap. Hirahoka said most of the items in the Veterans Resource Center are brought in by students.
“I noticed that it was just as hard in the rest of the world as it was in the service for veterans, with a lack of support,” Hirahoka said. “The Vet Club is a way to have a higher level of community.”
Throughout the challenges she has faced both in the military and as a civilian, Hirahoka has used her creativity as an outlet for growth and self-love. She painted murals during her deployment, and she continues to create art, primarily acrylic paintings. She mostly paints the people she sees around her, including her son and her friends.
“There is so much beauty in peo-
ple, and there are so many stories to tell through my painting,” Hirahoka said.
Hirahoka hopes to eventually pursue a PhD in math or economics. She said her advice to other Pierce veterans is to reach out to each other, join the Veterans Club and show love to
themselves.
“One thing I think the world lacks is a lot of love,” Hirahoka said. “Something I’m focusing on a lot lately, as I’ve grown as a person, is showing love to myself and the people around me.”
resources
Veterans Resource Center: Located in the Library Learning Crossroads (LLC) building on the first floor. Hours are Tuesday through Thursday, 10 a.m. to 3 p.m. Contact the VRC via email at pierce-veteran@piercecollege.edu.
Tuition assistance benefits can be accessed after veteran students apply for Veterans Affairs (VA) benefits at https://www. benefits.va.gov/.
Veteran Counseling: Veteran academic counseling appointments can be set up at this link: https://www. lapc.edu/student-services/ spr/veterans/counseling. These counselors serve as veteran certifying officials to process veterans’ paperwork.
For free food assistance, Pierce College offers the Brahma Bodega. More information can be found here: https://www.lapc. edu/student-services/spr/ brahma-pantry.
For support with mental or physical health, visit the Student Health Center. More information can be found here: https://www. lapc.edu/student-services/
TArticle and photo by Delilah Brumer
hey are bus drivers, school support staff, parents, immigrants and other working adults. Some of them dropped out of college, while others never went at all. For many, earning a college degree is a seemingly unreachable dream.
Seemingly unreachable, until Joleen Voss-Rodriguez steps in.
As she sits with prospective non-traditional college students, she discusses class options, tuition reimbursement plans and financial aid. But beyond laying out the logistics of earning an associate degree, she pushes them to see that they can be successful college students.
“Some of them have imposter syndrome and feel like they don’t belong in college,”
Voss-Rodriguez said. “They’re thinking, ‘Is this really for me?’ I try to help them understand that, yes, you can do it, yes, you can achieve your goals.”
and upcoming teachers so that they would best serve the needs of young children to make their lives better,” Voss-Rodriguez said. “I was really trying to infuse relationship-focused teaching practices.”
Voss-Rodriguez started teaching full time at Pierce in 2001. Although the types of students she serves have varied over the years, she has remained steadfast in her focus on support for non-traditional learners.
“We had a lot of returning students in child development, as well as in PACE, and it’s a similar population in that way,” Voss-Rodriguez said. “It’s always about helping them.”
“ I try to help them understand that, yes, you can do it, yes, you can achieve your goals. ”
Joleen VossRodriguez PACE Director
Voss-Rodriguez is the director of the Program for Accelerated College Education (PACE) at Pierce College, which provides working adults with the opportunity and resources to go to college. She has led PACE for eight years and previously chaired the Child Development Department, where she focused on mentoring aspiring elementary school teachers.
“I really liked supporting new
Beyond work, Voss-Rodriguez is an avid watercolor painter and mixed media artist. In high school, she was known as the artist of her classes, and even considered attending art school. Although she ended up studying psychology, she continued to create art.
Primarily focusing on bright floral and natural subjects, her recent work features intricate sunflowers and sun-kissed lemons. She posts her art on social media, and it has even been displayed in two galleries in Arizona.
It was her passion for fostering interpersonal connection, which is
central to her job at Pierce, that also spurred Voss-Rodriguez to teach an art group during the height of the COVID-19 pandemic. The group, which met over Zoom on Friday nights, was composed of about a dozen amateur artists, most of whom are Los Angeles Community College District faculty.
“Art is truly a stress reliever, so that really combines with my background in psychology,” Voss-Rodriguez said. “It was a time to let your problems fall away and be zen and create art. We were all cooped up at
Joleen Voss-Rodriguez, the director of the Program for Accelerated Education (PACE), sits with her artwork at Pierce College in Woodland Hills, Calif., on April 1, 2025.
home, so it was a really nice way to have community building.”
Throughout each week, the group frequently sent photos of their progress on various art projects in a text chat. Voss-Rodriguez focused on encouraging free-flowing creativity, and letting her art students grow at their own pace.
Communication Studies professor Jennifer Rosenberg was hired to teach at Pierce at the same time as Voss-Rodriguez, 24 years ago. They bonded over being young, up-andcoming professors, and Rosenberg was struck by Voss-Rodriguez’s “genuine warmth and fantastic sense of humor.”
“She’s very passionate about getting resources to students who may be overlooked in the system,” Rosenberg said. “We’re not all dealing with the same deck of cards, and it can be difficult for some students.”
Although Rosenberg did not participate in the pandemic-era art group, despite more than a few pushes to try it by Voss-Rodriguez, Rosenberg said she heard many positive comments about it.
“I hear from people that it doesn’t matter what your skill level is in terms of your artistic ability, you will progress on your own journey,” Rosenberg said. “She gives people the opportunity to express themselves on an individual level.”
Voss-Rodriguez’s commitment to students is what Lupita Narkevicius, PACE’s student services assistant, said is the highlight of working with her.
“Since we both believe that the PACE program is really important, we get along and have a good rapport,” Narkevicius said.
As Voss-Rodriguez continues at Pierce, she finds joy in the growth of her PACE students and in sharing the positive impacts of art. Once PACE students get acclimated to college life, many of them refer their friends, coworkers and family members to PACE, paying the program forward.
“I’ve always been in the field of helping people, and I want them to achieve their goals,” Voss-Rodriguez said. “I really love those students saying, ‘Oh my gosh, I did it. I can’t believe it. I’ve always wanted to do this.’ That just is very rewarding for me.”
The Pierce College Program for Accelerated Education (PACE) is a pathway for working adults and re-entering college students to complete their associate degree in two years. Here are the main components of PACE:
- PACE classes are eight weeks, instead of the traditional 16. This allows students to condense their coursework.
- PACE courses follow the Intersegmental Pathway for General Education (IGETC) curriculum and are transferable to four-year universities.
-PACE students can be full time or part time.
-PACE offers in-person, online synchronous and online asynchronous course options.
-For more information, visit lapc.edu/academics/pace-dept.
L.A. youth find camaraderie and pain in gangs
Rascal was 13 years old when he started to get involved in a gang in the San Fernando Valley. It was the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, and he didn’t have much to do, or many people to rely on.
“My motivation for joining was having someone to always have my back, and I always have someone’s back,” he said. “At home, things weren’t always stable. People fought. Emotions ran high. I felt like I was always walking on eggshells. But in the streets, I felt seen and that I had a voice and value.”
Rascal sought support in the gang. He got it. But beneath the camaraderie came loss.
For Rascal, the loss was his brother, who died in a shooting at age 16.
“He was my ride or die, my shadow, my hype man and my protector all rolled into one,” Rascal said. “He had a fire in him that I respected.”
Now an ex-gang member, Rascal keeps his brother’s memory with him. He looks back at the time they’d spend together, and dearly remembers the backyard barbecues.
“For those few hours, it felt like we were just a regular family,” Ras-
cal said. “No gang politics. No beef. Just love, laughter and peace. Looking back, those moments might’ve meant even more than I realized at the time.”
Rascal said his time in a gang was not worth it. He cautions other young people to understand that, too.
“I found a version of family in the streets,” Rascal said. “But it came with conditions. With danger. With loss. And now, I’m searching for something different. Something healthier. Something real. A kind of love that builds me up instead of breaking me down.”
A gang member who goes by Puppet shows his tattoos in Los Angeles, Calif., on March 15, 2025.
(Top left) Rascal, an ex-gang member, shows his tattoo in Van Nuys, Calif., on Feb. 28, 2025.
(Top right) A gang member who goes by Puppet shows his tattoos in Los Angeles, Calif., on March 15, 2025.
(Bottom right) An altar remembering people who died from gang violence in Huntington Park, Calif., on April 28, 2025.
Article by Avelia Mira
Photos by Katya Castillo
Cameron Brenner’s earliest memories of middle school hallways are not of the laughter of friends nor the excitement he could have felt. They are of whispers and pointed stares. Instead of finding peers and friendship, he found himself being called slurs.
Gym class was a nightmare. Out in the open, with dozens of peers surrounding him, the verbal assaults would escalate. He’d been called “girl” or “her” so many times that his heart was pounding before he even stepped outside of the locker room.
One afternoon, the hateful name-calling escalated to a physical attack. A boy, who had taunted him during his school years, pinned Brenner against the cold metal lockers, groping Brenner’s chest in front of the other boys.
“I was sexually harassed and assaulted by other boys for my effeminate look. In a locker room, I was groped, even, for looking like a girl,” Brenner said. “I didn’t feel like coming out as queer at that time because it was just not a good space being effeminate. I was being called ‘it,’ ‘he,’ ‘she,’ ‘hermaphrodite’... it was just not going to help that situation.”
In a culture where homosexuality was used as an insult, Brenner’s coming of age was met with harshness from others at his high school. The idea of coming out safely seemed like an impossible goal.
Brenner is one of the many LGBTQ+ individuals in the United States who have overcome relentless adversity through support from both biological and chosen families.
A recent study from The Trevor Project indicates that “three in four LGBTQ+ youth who were out
reported having at least one family member who supports their sexual orientation.”
Despite those painful years of bullying, Brenner found support in both his family and chosen family — the ones who provided refuge when the world around him was unkind.
His relationship with his parents, particularly his mother, was crucial in his journey toward self-acceptance.
“My mother was a very important part of my life of acceptance,” Brenner said. “When I got married, she was there for me. She didn’t turn away. She supported me.”
Even his father, who had once been distant and physically aggressive, eventually apologized for his past actions. The reconciliation between Brenner and his father had marked a turning point in Brenner’s life when familial love became a powerful force for healing.
“My father wasn’t anti-gay, but we had a very physically aggressive relationship. He has since apologized and made amends for his past
behavior,” Brenner said. “That was something I needed to heal from, and it’s been a process. But ultimately, I felt like I had a family that could accept me for who I was.”
Brenner often says that his life has been shaped by two families: the one he was born into, and the one he built.
“There is biological family, and found family,” he said. “But found family is so important because you can be easily thrown out of your family for not meeting their traditional values.”
After having endured years of violence, harassment and alienation, it was the chosen family who taught Brenner what acceptance could look like.
Cara McGee, his best friend since undergrad, helped him navigate his identity. Brenner and McGee stood up for each other in their lowest moments, and those were the moments that truly shaped the bond they shared.
“When your family defends you, when your family supports you and holds you up, I think those are really big moments,” he said.
Jacob Brenner, Cameron Brenner’s brother, echoed that sentiment. He believed that the hard times are the ones that shape bonds.
“Family’s really the people that you’re going to keep around you, the friends that have your back and you have theirs,” he said.
When it came to the people who had Cameron Brenner’s back, his mother, Bootsie Brenner, was always front and center.
“My best title?” she said. “Cameron’s mom.”
When he came out, there wasn’t any drama or disaster. It was just another aspect of her son that she welcomed with open arms.
“She supported me,” Cameron Brenner said. “She didn’t, like, turn away, you know, she supported me.”
Even Cameron Brenner’s brother had to mentally adjust from “my
brother’s girlfriend” to “my brother’s husband,” but he did so without hesitation.
“Admittedly, there was this experience I had when he came out to me that was the moment of my brain’s kind of restructuring,’” the brother said. “It was all those thoughts and ideas of ‘Oh, okay, someday, I’ll meet my brother’s wife. Nope, nope, change that to husband.’”
As a political science professor at Pierce College, Cameron Brenner now mentors LGBTQ+ students who, like him, are trying to survive a world that can question their right to exist. His journey has not only been about overcoming his personal hardships, but also creating safe spaces for those who currently face similar challenges.
“Here at Pierce, I found support systems. Here’s your alumni, there’s services, there’s community,” he said. “I think Pierce College and other community colleges have provided a support system to be able to talk to.”
To this day, Cameron Brenner’s family mirrors the closeness he had with his family in the past. He maintains strong connections with his mother in particular.
“I just love the fact that at this age, it’s still an open relationship where we can communicate,” Bootsie Brenner said. “Sometimes, he tells me a little more than I want to know. I just don’t think we’re any different than any other family. What’s really nice is that I’m just not having to mess with a bunch of crazy little girls chasing him.”
In contrast to Cameron Brenner’s experience, Valerie Levitas, a student at Pierce and the president of LAPC Music Club, said she did not grow up with the safety net of a loving biological family.
“When I first came out as trans, the first thing my mom said to me was, ‘No, you’re not,’” she said. “And eventually, they did believe that I was trans, but they resented
me for it. My mom is just straight up in denial. The rest of my family just, they’re not in denial. They just judge me.”
It was during these times that Levitas’ relationship with Isabellah Margaret, one of her best friends, began to become an important part to her own social survival. In high school, Levitas confided in Margaret about her identity.
“We weren’t in the best spot of our relationship, [but] I tried, even then, to be supportive,” Margaret said. “I was happy when I heard. Making sure she’s safe and taken care of — by herself, or a partner, or friends, or family. I hoped — and I was right — that it would make her much happier.”
Levitas’ story is representative of how many LGBTQ+ individuals face rejection from their biological family, forcing them to create their own chosen family. Invitations to family gatherings are only painful reminders of Levitas’ exclusion from her family.
“My cousin graduated from college in May, and my family invited my mom, my stepdad and my mom’s cousin who all live in the Valley,” Levitas said. “The party was in San Diego. They invited everybody but me, because my presence was making a scene to them.”
These rejections led Levitas to build a chosen family. Two close friends of Levitas now stand in for the love her biological family doesn’t provide. Even though they live far away from Levitas, their virtual bond is important to her.
Today, Levitas balances moments of joy against the sadness of rejection. She understands her struggles acutely and the resilience it takes to live with them.
“I mean, life is a challenge as a trans person, right? The moments of joy are the moments that I struggle for,” Levitas said. “It’s not like I am living a happy life and that I get moments of struggle. It’s like my life is a struggle and I have moments of happiness. But that doesn’t mean
that I’m unhappy. I’ve just learned to live with it.”
Levitas has faced harassment in her life because of her identity.
“I’ve had people throw shit at me from moving cars. I’ve been assaulted, I’ve had a lot of fucked up shit happen to me because of who I am,” Levitas said. “Especially when I first came out, everywhere I went, people would stare and give me dirty looks.”
Although she has many wounds from the rejection of her family, Levitas leans into love with her chosen family. Regular contact with her best friends has helped fill in the rejection she has faced.
“My support system is my chosen family, my best friends. When I need support, that’s who I turn to financially, emotionally, whatever it is, that’s who I turn to,” Levitas said.
Adding further insight into nontraditional family dynamics, Dr. Nina Francis-Levin, a National Institutes of Health-sponsored postdoctoral fellow at the University
of Michigan, explained that queer family structures are as individualized as any other aspect of family life. She noted that the process of coming out can create emotional shifts within families. In many cases, time helps ease initial reactions.
“Sometimes when somebody comes out, there is an adjustment period,” she said. “I think that some people will come out and at first, maybe it’ll be shocking, upsetting, disappointing, shameful, then over time, those things fall away.”
Francis-Levin emphasized that not every story of coming out follows the same trajectory. Responses from families can vary widely, and assumptions can be harmful.
As threats, including anti-LGBTQ+ legislation, continue to
loom over the community, Cameron Brenner remains steadfast. He insists on the importance of preparedness by staying informed and connected with legal and community resources.
“For me, it’s a lot of research and investigation, a lot of talking to people,” he said.
Looking into the future, he hopes for a shift in leadership which embraces progressive, queer-friendly policies.
“I’m hoping five years from now that the next presidency is one that is not going to be as right-leaning,” he said. “I’m hoping for a socially progressive, queer-friendly President who will reverse most of the damage as much of it can be done and that states like California will
actively not listen or comply with the Trump administration’s particularly vile policies.”
Cameron Brenner said he would like to see a movement founded in mutual support, which would be able to oppose what he said are oppressive initiatives. Despite enduring struggles, he calls on everyone to nurture hope and work together toward a resilient future for the LGBTQ+ community.
“What I see for the next four years is resistance. We have to be resistant, we have to stand up and fight for each other,” he said. “We really gotta buckle down and prepare ourselves and support each other.”
The Los Angeles LGBT Center is an extensive resource hub with many locations around Los Angeles County. The center provides housing services, GED preparation, employment services, counseling, support groups, recreational activities, couple and family counseling/therapy, legal services relating to the LGBTQ+ community, such as adoption, foster care or parental issue rights, medical services and community support groups.
Link: https://lalgbtcenter.org/ Main line: 323-993-7400
Health services: 323-993-7500
Legal services: 323-993-7970
Youth services: 323-860-2280 Trans Wellness Center: 323-993-2900
Anita May Rosenstein Campus (appointments required) link and address: https://lalgbtcenter.org/about/locations/anita-may-rosenstein-campus/ 1118 / 1125 N. McCadden Pl, Los Angeles, CA 90038
Article
photos by Janet Harper
Staring into the bonfire warming the wet, misty morning air outside of his North Pasadena home, Jorge Trujillo recalled the morning when everything changed for him and for tens of thousands of Altadena and Pasadena residents.
His eyes darted back and forth over the flames as the fear from that day crept up into his voice. He’s a commanding presence, tough but kind, and a little rough around the edges. But the fires that day
were bigger than any one person’s strength. Even a man like him, steady and unshakable, couldn’t help but feel small against the force of it.
“I never felt so little in my life when I was there. It was all pitch black,” he said. “And I don’t know, I just felt like man, this is evil. Like, this is the devil, that’s what I thought. Like, I guess we’re going to work today with the devil.”
Trujillo relives the morning
of Jan. 8 every day as he drives through the ruins of a town that now exists only as a ghost of its former self, after the Eaton fire destroyed more than 9,000 structures and killed 18 people. Once a thriving hub of culture and economic progress for its Black and Brown residents, who made up the majority of Altadena’s nearly 43,000 people, it is now street after street of charred debris and burned-out cars, with the occasional chimney rising above
the treeline — the last recognizable remnant of what once was.
Like many Altadena residents, Trujillo and his family have been living in the area for generations. His friends in the neighborhood are people he’s known since high school or before. Trujillo’s deep love for his community is what inspired him to jump in when official fire and rescue lagged behind.
“There was no one around. It was like a scary movie. There’s no one there to help you,” he said.
Trujillo held the flames back for hours before help arrived. Eventually, some of his friends and family jumped in to help, but Trujillo said fire crews wouldn’t arrive until 9 or
10 a.m. — nearly 14 hours after a spark in Eaton Canyon was first reported. Despite evacuation orders, which for many came too late, some residents stayed behind to protect their homes.
“My family’s here. We never left,” Trujillo explained. “We were part of the evacuation plan, we just chose not to listen. We don’t listen.”
Now reduced to rubble, those single-family, working-class Altadena homes were the key to generational wealth. In Altadena, homeownership before the fire was almost double the national average for Black and Brown families, according to LAist. Now many of those families are without a backup plan.
“You know, when you sit there and really analyze that, a lot of them are not coming back,” said Damon Moore, an Altadena local and member of the community organization Altadena Not for Sale. “They can’t afford it.”
Already, investment firms are looking to buy the valuable Southern California real estate, and the residents are struggling to survive the financial and emotional strain of the past several months.
“We have to deal with reality,” Moore said. “But that doesn’t mean giving up. It means getting creative, working together, and fighting for what’s ours.”
Victor Hodgson of My Tribe Rise,
which has been active in the community since 2019, echoed the sentiment.
“The history of Altadena was that, you know, certain areas in Pasadena — Blacks couldn’t drive through, but there’s this one place in Altadena where they could,” Hodgson said. “We’ve been here doing the work, helping people with housing, helping the home. Now, when the fires hit, we teamed up with others to help people find temporary housing and later permanent residence.”
The fire that ravaged Altadena has exposed cracks in a system meant to support the community in times of crisis. Anthony McFarland, pastor at Lift International Church
in Altadena, described the rebuilding effort as a long-term project.
“The reality is, this will be a five to seven year process,” he said. “It’s important that we be on one accord and we have a plan.”
Yet, that plan comes with its own set of challenges. McFarland is quick to clarify misconceptions surrounding debris removal efforts.
“There are ads saying that the Army Corps of Engineers will remove debris for free,” he said. “That is not true. They are only doing a certain amount of debris removal. Homeowners will need additional services to remove other debris, like concrete and bushes, plus soil tests before any rebuilding can even
start.”
Altadena residents may be up against the greatest challenge they’ve ever experienced, but they’re also uniquely qualified to meet the moment. Through pop-up mutual aid sites, block parties, rallies and just some backyard barbeques, Altadena has shown they know how to show up for each other, and that community is more than people living together in a neighborhood.
“Home isn’t always a house,” Trujillo said. “It’s where your friends are, your people, your family. And we’re here. That’s what we want to come through.”
A “Black Homes Matter” sign stands in the yard of a home burned down by the Eaton Fire in Altadena, Calif., on March 13, 2025.
Psychology professor Angela Belden sits with pictures of her kids at Pierce College in Woodland Hills, Calif., on April 20, 2025. Photo by Katya Castillo.
By Avelia Mira
It was 2010 in Stillwater, Okla., when Angela Belden sat in front of a three-member panel at Oklahoma State University defending her dissertation about the cumulative effects of TV on body image.
As intense as the moment was, her mind was also juggling the anticipation of becoming a mother.
A few hours later, she was greeted by her examiners as “Dr. Belden.” A few days later, she was greeted as mom.
“I defended my dissertation on a Tuesday and met my children on Friday,” she said. “It was a big week
for me, but it was amazing.”
Now a psychology professor at Pierce College, Belden teaches research methods in behavioral sciences and statistics for the social sciences. She is also a wife and a mother of four adopted boys.
Belden always knew she wanted children. Ever since high school, adoption was on her to-do list. But as a young lesbian in the early 2000s, Belden realized that building a family would not be as straightforward as she once imagined.
Initially, Belden and her wife explored fertility treatments in Florida, but she said they were met with
discrimination by these centers. She explained that a fertility clinic asked them, “So who’s going to be the mother?”
Frustrated but determined, the couple packed their bags and moved to California, where they found a more accepting environment.
“I had never actually stepped foot in the state of California when I accepted a job in California,” Belden said. “But it all worked out. And we immediately started taking parenting classes.”
Once in California, the couple joined a support group for LGBTQ+ individuals looking to start families.
Through that group, they realized that biological children may not be the best for their situation. Instead, they found a calling in foster care and adoption.
“Through our journey, we decided that biological kids weren’t in the cards for us,” Belden said. “And so we stopped that piece of the journey and kept on the foster piece.”
When Belden and her wife were matched with their first two boys, they sought advice from social workers on what their idea of family would look like. What they heard deeply resonated with them.
“They wanted active people,” Belden said. “They wanted people who were interested in nature, people who were willing to do boy things, whatever that means. My wife and I are both very active.”
In the span of a week, Belden defended her dissertation and met three of her children for the first time. Less than a year later, they got a call that their sons’ biological brother had just been born. A few hours later, they had a newborn in their home.
“We went from zero to three kids in one day, and then, 11 months later, got a call—’Your boys have a brother. Do you want him?’ And 27 hours later, we had a newborn at our doorstep,” she recalled.
As their family grew, so did their understanding of adoption. Belden and her wife made it important to be open with their children about their story to make sure adoption was never a taboo topic in their household.
“When you have four siblings and you’re very close in age, I mean, for half the year they’re two years apart. You know, we don’t shy away from the adoption part of their story,” she said.
Belden believes that acknowledging her children’s biological roots is important. She and her wife make space to discuss their children’s birth family to ensure they feel con-
nected to their story.
“And so sometimes, like maybe on Mother’s Day or Father’s Day, I might, you know, pick up some mini cupcakes or something and say, ‘I’m just thinking about your biological mom and thinking about what a gift she’s given me, right? Because she had three, four amazing kids and I now get the privilege of raising you,” she said.
Belden’s friends said they admire her abilities in academia and interpersonal relationships. Adrian Youhanna, a geographic information systems professor at Pierce and a close friend, has seen this firsthand.
“She’s your gal,” Youhanna said. “I mean, she’s just very creative. She is just good at coordinating and organizing. She’s such a mom.”
Psychology professor Angela Belden speaks during an Academic Senate meeting at Pierce College in Woodland Hills, Calif., on May 5, 2025. Photo by Delilah Brumer.
Maria Perser, a fellow psychology professor at Pierce and another friend, also admires Belden’s ability to connect to her creativity.
“She’s warm. She’s kind. She’s generous,” Perser said. “She’s the type of person who loves to try new things. She’s always thinking, ‘What’s a different way we could do this?’ She’s the type of person who likes to bring things to the table. And she’s the type of person who likes to bring people together.”
Over the years, Belden has embraced the challenges and joys of parenthood. She acknowledged the struggles of raising teenagers, but
she also celebrates the love and bond they share.
Belden shares much of what she’s learned through the foster youth program at Pierce and volunteers to speak with people in these programs.
“I’m not going to sit here and say, ‘Oh yeah, parenting is so easy. It’s smooth sailing, there’s never any bumps in the road,’” she said. “Of course there are bumps, and it doesn’t matter if you have biological children or adopted children, right? There are bumps in the road, like in life. Things happen and you just have to figure it out.”
The entrance tunnel to Kidspace Museum in Pasadena, Calif., on March 18, 2025.
Review and photos by Delilah Brumer
Dozens of paper mache monarch butterflies dangle overhead as ecstatic toddlers scuttle past intricate faux fossils, winding toy train tracks and various wooden contraptions. In a nearby courtyard, water sporadically bursts from holes in the pavement and bottle rockets ascend through the branches of shade trees.
At Kidspace Museum in Pasadena, whimsy is a way of life. Though the facility has no famous paintings, classic sculptures or other mainstays of traditional museums, the Kidspace experience does not lack opportunities for fun and engagement. From the interactive physics games to the grilled cheese sandwich wedges, Kidspace caters to kids — and parents can find comfort in the safety, cleanliness and affordability of the facility.
Kidspace, a nonprofit educational institution that was founded in 1979, has a sprawling 3.5-acre play area and more than 40 hands-on exhibits for families to explore. The facility also includes an early childhood learning center, which is a designated space for babies and toddlers to learn and grow without parents having to worry about bigger kids trampling them.
One highlight of the facility is Muddy Boot Farm, which gives kids the opportunity to dig up carrots, harvest fake eggs from chicken coops and pretend to sell their wares to their parents at a market. For parents of rowdy and athletic kids, a must-try is the large tug-ofwar game featuring ropes tied to a 12-foot-tall swaying tower.
Bean Sprouts Cafe, a small and pleasant dining area and restaurant, is located near the center of the campus, with larger-than-life flower structures serving as seating. The cafe serves a variety of sand-
wiches, salads, pizzas, quesadillas and healthy snacks, and it has enough options that it’s a safe bet for parents of picky eaters.
Most entrees range from $9 to $14, which are slightly overpriced for the kid-friendly portions. Each entree comes with a side of a leafy green salad or a cup of grapes, apples and oranges. There are several meals that work for those with dietary restrictions, including vegetarian, vegan, gluten-free, dairyfree, nut-free and soy-free options.
The entrees, including the barbecue chicken quesadilla and the pepperoni pizza, are fresh, light and well-seasoned. The quesadilla has a nice balance of chicken, cheese and red onions in each bite, and it is not unnecessarily greasy.
Admission to Kidspace is $15.50
per person, a price that is not only reasonable compared to other kid-friendly, Los Angeles-area attractions, but that’s also justified by the joy that Kidspace brings to children.
Whether it’s on a day off from school or summer break, Kidspace is a worthwhile visit for L.A. families with kids in the age range of 1 to about 9. There’s plenty of adventures to go on at the museum, so it’s a good idea to plan to be there for at least two and a half hours.
Address: 480 N. Arroyo Blvd. Pasadena, CA 91103
Hours: Tuesday to Sunday, 10 a.m. to 5 p.m.
General Admission: $15.50 per person
Article and photos by Cosette Gerl
The aroma of coffee and fresh baked pastries drifted through the foyer as people gathered. Their laughter and greetings filled the space with warmth. Across the room, a teenager hesitated in the doorway with tense shoulders, until a group of peers waved him over, making space in their circle. In one of the wooden pews, an older couple sat with a young man as they guided him through the pages of his first Bible. When the service began, voices rose in unison, a chorus of faith and fellowship echoing off of the beams.
At Calvary Chapel in Downey, churchgoers bond through common faith. Chad Naaktgeboren, a pastor at the church, said the dynamic of his congregation is welcoming.
“One of our main goals is to make sure that no one feels alone, because they’re not,” Naaktgeboren said. “At the end of every service, church members are given an open invitation to pray with one of our staff members. When this happens, countless people are given the opportunity to confide in someone and receive counsel and comfort. It takes intentional effort to make sure everyone has had the chance to get connected.”
Like many religious groups, the leaders of Calvary Chapel work to set a foundation of belief, trust and support. Across the globe, 84% of people identify as religious, according to the Pew Research Center. Micah Lemon, an expert in biblical studies and theology from Biola University, said that religion can create community.
“A healthy family and healthy church should both provide a
safe and secure environment, where family members can express themselves and seek support from each other,” Lemon said. “Parents and other family members, elders, pastors and siblings can model positive behaviors, such as empathy, self-control and healthy communication. The church is, at its core, a family.”
Emphasizing the importance of personal connections in keeping the community strong, Naaktgeboren’s church fosters relationships through small groups, outreach programs and regular fellowship events that bring people together beyond Sunday services. But he acknowledged the challenges of maintaining a large church.
“It’s easy for people to feel isolated when they are surrounded by people,” Naaktgeboren said. “Our struggle is making people feel connected on an individual level. We do this by getting together in smaller groups that provide a close level of connection between members.”
on April 13, 2025.
These efforts can make an impact on those who attend. Aylin Carpio is a member at Calvary Chapel in Downey and is involved in multiple community groups that are focused on outreach, as well as women’s ministries.
“I wasn’t always a Christian,” Carpio said. “Before I got connected
here, I felt like I was trying to do everything on my own. One day, I came forward during one of the altar calls and had a pastor pray with me while I cried. I’ve never felt more supported and encouraged to be a better person. At church, people don’t just tell you what you want to hear, they tell you the truth.”
Carpio said she feels connect-
ed with members of her church when they sing or worship. For her, church is a place of love and support.
“I learned so much about myself from experiencing church with people,” Carpio said. I’ve grown a lot and had a lot more accountability in my life.”
In a small construction company, Cindy Argueta found herself sorting through spreadsheets, receipts and financial transactions to obtain her position as a bookkeeper and accountant. She had worked in the industry for years, but shortly after she gave birth to her youngest son in 2022, Argueta received news from her supervisor that she was being fired.
She took small temp jobs after to support herself and her family.
Not long after, Argueta strived to focus on her education as a fulltime student to become a positive role model for both of her children. She helps support other student parents through the CalWorks office and tutors at the Center for Academic Success at Pierce College.
“[It’s about] learning to strive to be better, to be a better role model,” Argueta said. “To provide a better life for my children than
I experienced myself. So I’m just hopeful, I’m trying.”
Argueta has obtained an associate degree in child development and is currently working toward a psychology degree, in hopes to better the mental health of herself and others. She was given the opportunity to pursue a higher education with the help of the Child Development Center, because she is able to drop off her child while she attends lectures or labs. Argueta’s youngest
son, Mathayus, turns 3 years old this June. She shared that her son’s academic performance and social interactions have improved since being in the Child Development Center.
“I used to have him in an infant care, a childcare center near my apartment,” Argueta said. “But the difference [now] is he’s more social. He knows how to engage, he knows how to socialize and has more expansion on his vocabulary. I think that’s because of here.”
Brenda Sanchez is another student parent attending Pierce while raising her child. Sanchez returned
to finish her education because she wanted to set a good example for her 4-year-old daughter in the future. She was recommended by her counselor to apply for childcare at the Child Development Center to assist her with managing her class schedule.
Sanchez shared her goal for obtaining her education.
“For my baby, I really want her to step up her game when she’s older,” Sanchez said. “I don’t want her to be like, ‘Oh, just because you didn’t graduate,’ like talk back to me. So I gotta get up there. I’m trying to get my master’s, I want her to
be above and beyond.”
Sanchez is finishing her degree in child development to become a special education teacher. Part of what drives her to pursue that career is that she was diagnosed with a rare condition called hydrocephalus as a baby. She struggles with time management the most and goes about her day without a set schedule, as it has worked best for her.
Sanchez described the struggles she faces as a student parent.
“It’s stressful and rewarding, because as a parent, you’re doing this to better the life of the baby,” Sanchez said. “You don’t spend enough time with your kid. You don’t know if they’re okay, like, how did things go at school? It’s just a lot of stuff going on all at once.”
Business major Mary Locsin is a full-time student at Pierce College. She is a mother of two boys, the youngest being 11 years old, and the oldest 21 years old. Locsin said that she is taking business courses for her youngest child, who dreams of opening an ice cream stand where he can serve others. Her youngest child was born with Down Syndrome, and is working with a speech therapist in school. Locsin described him as joyful.
While Locsin continues her academic goals, she also struggles to balance both school and family life.
“It’s mostly the struggle, the pressure and finding time to be with my children,” Locsin said. “So if my special needs child goes to school every day, they bring him and then I have to catch up and study, do some homework and chores and a lot of errands and then go to school at night.”
But Locsin continues to move forward and finds inspiration from her children to pursue her studies. In order for her to balance both worlds, Locsin has family meetings every Sunday to discuss daily schedules for the week. This com-
munication with her husband and children has allowed them to lean on one another. For example, her oldest son tutors her to stay on her academic path and her husband takes care of their youngest while she attends late night classes.
“It’s very empowering when you are doing this for your family, you’re doing this for your children.”
Melissa Brisbois Child Development Center Director
One of the many obstacles student parents face revolves around child care. About 135 colleges in California offer care services to full-time students, including Moorpark College, Pierce College and the Univer sity of California, Los Angeles.
The issue lies with the limited number of children who are able to enroll in the Pierce Child Development Center, which is based on the number of staff. At Pierce, there are two sets of classrooms based on age group. For 2-year-olds, there are four children to every one adult, and from the ages 3 to 5 there is room for eight children per adult staff member.
According to the Los Angeles Unified School District, a salary table from 2024 states that full-time early education teachers make a minimum of $45,136 a year, which is equivalent to $23.50 an hour. The U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics says that preschool teachers make an average of $37,120 per year or $17.85 an hour, nationally.
Pierce College Child Development Center Director Melissa Brisbois addressed the wage concerns, as they relate to child care.
“One of the problems with being an early childhood education teacher is that in a lot of schools [for] minimum wage they’re getting
$18-$20 an hour. Lots of times you can get more if you’re working at McDonalds or at Target,” Brisbois said. “But it’s challenging, right? It’s like, how do we make childcare affordable but pay the people who are taking care of the children.”
Due to this underlying issue, student parents are limited to child care sup-
port because there are not enough teachers and staff to provide care for their children. This can lead to increased dropout rates among student parents, who are forced to choose between their education or reliable child care.
Brisbois admires the work she sees from the student parents.
“It’s very empowering when you are doing this for your family, you’re doing this for your children,” Brisbois said. “You’re making those steps forward for the betterment of them and it really helps push you so it’s an inspiration.”