What the Walls Could Say

    The Dominican Sisters of Mission San Jose and I     Six weeks ago, I arrived in California carrying uncertainty, fear, curiosity, and a quiet hope that this experience might change me in some way. Now, as I prepare to leave, I realize the transformation was happening in the small moments all along. It happened during early morning prayers when the house was still quiet, and the world had not fully awakened yet. It happened around dinner tables filled with stories, laughter, reflection, and honesty. It happened during long car rides across California, inside prison chapels, classrooms, motherhouses, and moments of silence shared between people who genuinely cared for one another. Over these past six weeks, I was not only welcomed into a program or ministry, but I was welcomed into a community.      Living alongside the Dominican Sisters and the women connected to this work allowed me to witness faith not simply as something spoken about, but as some...

 This week, I finally met Fr. Greg Boyle.  In many ways, it felt like a full-circle moment. When I was seventeen years old, sitting in a high school classroom reading Tattoos on the Heart , I remember being deeply moved by the way Father Greg wrote about people. He wrote about gang members, incarceration, addiction, and violence with so much compassion and dignity that it changed the way I thought about humanity altogether. At that age, the idea of a single person creating a space like Homeboy Industries felt almost larger-than-life to me. So for years, I imagined what it would feel like to finally meet him. And honestly? It was not as surreal as I expected. When I walked into Homeboy Industries, there were already around twenty people waiting to speak with him. Our interaction lasted maybe five minutes. He was kind. He took a picture with me. I introduced myself. And then the moment passed. What surprised me most was not the interaction itself, but my reaction to it. I kept w...

  Somewhere between prison visits, long drives across California, workshop preparations, shared lunches, and everyday conversations, the Partnership for Re-Entry Program (PREP) office quietly became my second home. When I first arrived in California, everything felt unfamiliar. New people. New places. New routines. I came into PREP nervous, unsure of myself, and uncertain about what these six weeks would truly hold. But from the very first day, I was welcomed with warmth that never once felt forced. What struck me most about the people at PREP was not only their commitment to the work but the lives behind that commitment. Many of the people in the office have been directly impacted by incarceration and systemic harm themselves. Some have experienced prison firsthand. Others have carried the weight of losing loved ones, rebuilding their lives, or navigating systems designed to break people down instead of helping them heal. And yet, despite all of that, they chose to dedicate their ...

   (Left to Right) Sr.Mavis, Sr.Mary Sean, Me, and Lucy at Corcoran   The first few days of June took us to California State Prison, Corcoran, and California Substance Abuse Treatment Facility and State Prison(SATF); both days were unbearably hot. The kind of heat that settles into your skin and exhausts you before the day even begins. Yet despite the heat, dozens of men still chose to show up for our workshops. At Corcoran, we facilitated a workshop out on the yard in what was formerly the SHU, the Security Housing Unit, a place once associated with isolation and punishment, now repurposed into what many call a self-help university. There was something symbolic about that transformation. A place once designed to isolate men is now being used for reflection, accountability, and growth.      More than fifty men sat outside in the beating sun participating in our workshop. Watching them commit to that experience reminded me that accountability is not passive...