cl.arissa_reyna

Despite being an aspect every individual should prioritize, mental health care is one of the least respected forms of medical care in society. Mental health and therapy have a stereotype of being an invaluable expense to fix an intangible cause. As a member of a Hispanic family living in a rural town three miles from the US-Mexico border, I see how often mental health is belittled. Depression, anxiety, and suicide aren't real issues, not when poverty, deportation, and violence are far greater risks. It makes it extremely difficult for individuals who truly need help to trust in the benefits of the mental health care system when it is expensive and undervalued. I believe emotional health is the foundation of a person's welfare. We are only given one life, so it is essential to prioritize our emotional and mental stability. I would make mental health care assessable by de-stigmatizing its ineffectiveness and providing awareness, especially to more traditional societies, that emotional health is an integral issue that needs to be rapidly acknowledged. I would then make mental health care available to lower-income communities by organizing free individual or group therapy sessions that provide professional help to anyone in need. The right to mental health care should be as accessible and recognized as any other health care, and feeling your best should never come with a price tag.

My mother once told me, “The only person that can ever stand in the way of your future is yourself.” I was only a child when she told me this, and I believed it was true. However, life teaches us differently. The reality is that society is constantly forcing us into a box, silencing our voices with stereotypes and unjust opinions. Our gender, ethnicity, and race- things we should all be proud of- are used to compel us into failure. People look at me and see a Latina woman, bound to become nothing more than a housewife. I have seen it in my own family. Women are subjected to remain silent and obey what this world governed by men decides. We are told to live selflessly and for the benefit of our male partners. Even my mother, who once told me that the future was up to me, spent her own life silencing her dreams for others. As a child, I was once too blind to see that no matter how much wisdom her words held, she would never have the strength to use it for herself. Instead of looking at these adversities in society and crumbling under its influence like my mother, I seek to fight these stereotypes. My greatest fear has always been to succumb to a life decided by others, one that exemplifies every woman in my family. Every day, I work hard to overcome those voices that tell me to be society's typical Latina woman. I exceed at school, though most people in my family have dropped out. Every afternoon I attend tutoring to help improve my grades and extracurricular activities to increase my knowledge of the community. Even when my own family and friends whisper their doubts into my ears, encouraging me to give up, I continue to work hard, because my dream has always been to become more than this life has offered me. No matter what, I will be accepted into a top-tier university, a feat no one in my family believes I am capable of doing. It is difficult being a Latina and a woman in this world that looks down on me, but I continue to overcome these adversities with determination and courage. Eventually, I plan to use this strength to impact my community with my writing. The written word is the most powerful tool in encouraging change in the world. My writing will encourage those who struggle to overcome society's pressures and provide strength to those who desire a better life. I want to motivate those girls and other minority groups just like me who struggle against oppressive stereotypes. My mother always believed that the only person that will ever stand in the way of my future is myself. I think she is wrong. The world will always seek to push us into failure. Society will mock us for our gender and race. It is up to us to decide whether to fall under the influence of these voices or to become something more. I choose to fight my adversities every single day.

Blinding lights, fluorescent skirts, and glittering faces surround me. The crowd teeters in excited whispers, filled with curiosity of who will arise from the depth of the stage. My heart beats fast as I gather my skirts in my shaking hands. I exhale slowly, replacing my nervous face with a brilliantly painted red smile. The music starts, fast guitar perfectly in tune with rhythmic trumpets, and my dread melts away. Months of preparation and several tears of stress led to this final moment. As I make my way out onto the stage, everything around me disappears until all that is left is my body, dancing the song of my soul. My entire life I've been a dancer. I first developed this love at my elementary school talent shows. My clumsy footfalls and ecstatic, chubby, arms flinging across the auditorium, nowhere near following the rhythm of the music. Though It was not a pretty sight, I remember feeling exhilarated by the rush of performing and the ovation applause. This feeling of dance euphoria followed me through my adolescent years, filled with Hispanic weddings and quinceaneras. It was not until I sat through a high school performance of Folklorico dancers that I decided I wanted to chisel my love of dance into a talent. Perhaps it was their beautiful faces or multi-colored skirts, but the sight planted a seed of desire in my heart that soon grew into a passion for Folklorico dancing. I finally joined a Folklorico school club at the age of twelve. I took my bi-weekly sessions seriously and practiced any time I could. The skills I acquired was demonstrated in school performance, where coincidentally, a director from the City of Mission Ballet Folklorico had attended and recruited me to his group of dancers when he saw my talent. From there, it took me three years of brutal practice and precision to get back on stage. I attended several weekly classes that dragged long into the night to perfect my skills. I even took the extra time to teach a class to gain more practice. However, all of that work paid off for this final moment. I step onto the stage, twirling my skirts with precision and using zapateado steps to create my music to portray a story of romance and life. Dancing has always been more than a simple hobby for me. Dancing is the way to sing the song of my life.

Blinding stage lights, fluorescent skirts, and glittering faces surround the auditorium. My heart beats fast as I listen to the excited whispers from the crowd beyond the stage. I exhale slowly, replacing my nervous face with a brilliantly painted red smile. The music starts, fast guitar collaborating with rhythmic trumpets, and my dread melts away. My entire life, I've been a dancer. I first developed this love at my elementary school talent show. Though It was not a pretty sight, I remember feeling exhilarated by the rush of performing and the ovation applause. It was not until I was eleven that I discovered the art of Folklorico dance at a high school performance. Perhaps it was their beautiful faces or the multi-colored dresses, but I knew from that moment that I wanted to chisel my love of dance into a skill. I finally joined at the age of twelve at a school club. The talent I acquired during practice was demonstrated in a school performance, thus allowing me to join the City of Mission Ballet Folklorico. From there, it took me three years of brutal practice and precision to get back on stage. I attended several weekly classes that dragged long into the night to perfect my skills. I even took the time to teach a dance class so I could increase my practice. All of that work paid off for this final moment. I step onto the stage, twirling my skirts with precision and using zapateado steps to create my music to portray a story of romance and life. Dancing has always been more than a simple hobby for me. It is the hidden language of my soul.