My parents came to this country from Mexico and Guatemala with nothing but hope and determination. I’m a first-generation American, and I’ve always been proud of both my Hispanic roots and my American identity. But pride didn’t erase the hardship.
I grew up in extreme poverty in Connecticut. I lived in a home filled with fear, abuse, and instability. For years, I watched my mother navigate raising children while surviving daily domestic violence. CPS came and went, but the system didn’t protect us. The pain wasn’t only physical. The emotional toll stayed with me long after I left home at twenty-two.
Even now, when I look back, I know that what I needed most as a child was connection, safety, and someone who could see the little girl behind the chaos and say, “You deserve better, and I’m here for you.”
That person never came. So I became her.
My Purpose
I work in Baltimore Head Start programs, supporting children ages three to five, their educators, and their families. I run parenting workshops, provide classroom mental health consultation, and train teachers on how to respond with empathy, understanding, and developmentally appropriate support.
Every day, I meet children who remind me of myself. These kids who come to school carrying invisible stories. They are smart, full of potential, and fighting battles they’re too young to explain. And when they walk through the door, I want them to feel what I never did:
You matter.
You are safe here.
You are not alone.
