What the Walls Could Say

      This week, I took a small break from prison work and spent the day at St. Ignatius of Loyola Catholic School with Sr.Wanda, who teaches first and second grade. Because of low enrollment, both grades are combined into one classroom.      Walking into the school felt grounding in a completely different way. After spending so much time reflecting on prisons, punishment, and systems of harm, being surrounded by children reminded me that social work is also about prevention, nurture, and creating environments where young people can safely grow into themselves before the world hardens them.      The classrooms were full of children learning, laughing, sharing stories, and trying to understand the world around them. Watching them made me emotional. Maybe because I saw so many possibilities sitting in that room. Maybe because I understood how important spaces like this are for children whose futures are still being shaped in real time.  ...

This weekend, I traveled six hours to Fremont, California, for the Jubilee celebration of the Dominican Sisters of Mission San Jose, also known as the Holy Rosary congregation. Somewhere along the drive, between highways and hills, I kept wondering what it must feel like to dedicate your entire life to something bigger than yourself. When we arrived at the motherhouse, I was immediately met with joy. Not loud or performative joy, but the kind that settles gently into a room after years of love, sacrifice, and community. The jubilarians were celebrated with so much warmth. You could feel how deeply loved they were, not because of status or accomplishment, but because of the lives they had built in service to others and alongside one another. Watching the sisters laugh together, embrace, tell stories, and honor decades of commitment made me realize how rare it is to witness a community that has truly grown old together. There was something beautiful about seeing women celebrated simply f...

  Sr. Mary Sean, Me, and Lucy Sr. Mary Sean and Sr. Mavis One of many Gas Stations Me and Lucy My First time trying In and Out Burgers 10/10

  The Golden Gate Bridge Me and Sr.Mavis from Torpedo Wharf Srs. and me sharing a milkshake at Ghiraddeli Square Alcatraz in the distance Pier 39 Me! Sr.Mavis and Sr.Mary Sean

     (Left to Right) Sr.Mavis, me, Sr.Mary Sean, and Lucy in front of the gates of San Quentin      Today we visited San Quentin Rehabilitation Center, and honestly, there were moments when I forgot I was even inside a prison. Before coming to California, I imagined prisons as cold, silent places built entirely around punishment. But San Quentin felt different. The men there were constantly moving between programs, workshops, and creative spaces. There was energy in the room. Purpose. Conversation. People eager to learn, reflect, and contribute. One of the spaces that stood out to me most was the media center, home to Uncuffed , a podcast created by incarcerated people. The project allows men and women in California prisons to tell their own stories in their own words, revealing the humanity that exists behind prison walls. Listening to their work made me think about how often incarcerated people are spoken about, but rarely spoken with. Walking through San...

  (Left to Right) Sr. Mary Sean, Me, Sr. Mavis, and Lucy Today we visited California Medical Facility in Vacaville, California. The drive was long, almost six hours, but by the end of the day, it felt completely worth it. Before arriving, I realized I had unconsciously created a picture in my mind of what prison would look like. I expected to see men in handcuffs, escorted from place to place, separated from us by an invisible wall of difference. Instead, the men walked freely into the chapel where we were meeting. They greeted us warmly. They smiled. They introduced themselves. They were kind. Alongside Sister Mary Sean, Lucy, and Sister Mavis, I helped facilitate INSIGHT, PREP's parole preparation workshop for individuals serving life sentences. Sitting in that room, the work became real in a way that no book, documentary, or classroom discussion could have prepared me for. For hours, I listened. I listened to stories of childhood trauma, neglect, violence, addiction, and loss. I...

When people ask why I chose to come to Los Angeles, I find myself asking a different question: Why am I really doing this? For as long as I can remember, I have carried the weight of my mother's sacrifices. Mami crossed borders and left behind her own dreams so that I could have opportunities she never had. Sometimes I wonder how much of what I have accomplished was born from my own desires and how much came from a sense of responsibility to make those sacrifices worth it. Did I choose these paths because I wanted them, or because I felt I had to? What I do know is this: I have always dreamed of coming to Los Angeles. During my junior year of high school, I read Tattoos on the Heart by Fr. Greg Boyle. Through its pages, I witnessed what God's mercy could look like in action. I read stories of people who had been told they were disposable, only to encounter someone who saw them as worthy of love, dignity, and transformation. Fr. Greg's ability to help people feel seen inspi...