I can say with utmost confidence that “Dork Diaries: Tales from A Not-So-Fabulous Life” absolutely changed my life. I was nine years old at the time and this was the first book I had ever picked up on my own. I had just come to the United States from Honduras knowing little to no English and being scared of this odd new life in front of me. Due to language and cultural barriers, it was extremely difficult for me to make friends. Having come from a third-world country and not being able to make new friends, I naturally gravitated toward the school’s library. Before coming to America, I had never seen a room filled with colorful books full of fun stories and adventures, yet I couldn’t have dreamt of anything more exciting. That was when I discovered Dork Diaries and my best friend for the upcoming years, Nikki Maxwell. Nikki Maxwell was the protagonist of the series and the thing that made our friendship so special was that I knew I could always count on her. She made me feel seen in a way I never knew was possible. Just like me, she was a new student in her school and felt like the odd man out. Her family was poor, as was mine and she was embarrassed by the work van her father drove her to school in as it had a huge plastic bug on the roof. My dad’s car did not have a huge bug on it but it felt like it by the way that the other kids looked at his car. Nikki shared her life with me, even the things one would be embarrassed about and made me feel like I finally had a true friend by my side. Once I finished reading “Tales from a Not-So-Fabulous Life,” it came as no surprise that I sped through the rest of the series. I would save up my birthday money and would spend all of it on these books. As a result of my friendship with Nikki, my English vastly improved and I no longer felt insecure. Those books were my foundation for language and were crucial for my knowledge and academic success. For me, Dork Diaries weren’t just about the way they improved my English, they were about helping me discover uncharted waters where I could allow my imagination to run wild. Dork Diaries were my safe space, one that protected me from all the adversities I faced in my poor household. With their escapism, those books allowed me to dream about my future, even if my present suggested it was impossible. Nikki Maxwell was a very weird girl and before I met her, I did not know that it was okay to be as unapologetically myself as she was and that is a lesson I will always carry with me. She told her story and taught me that it was okay to tell mine as well. In this present day, I know what I want my future to look like: I will pursue a career in storytelling and I owe it all to the Dork Diaries.

The American dream was never created for someone like me, but I made it mine. I am an undocumented immigrant in the United States. At 9 years old, I illegally came here from Honduras. At first, I was oblivious to the financial struggles our family faced because I was just excited to be here. People from my country could only dream of it, and I was finally here. The promise of the American dream was about to split me in two and mold me through art. Despite my optimism, I was hit with reality a month after my arrival. I was enrolled in the third grade and realized I was not like my classmates. I tried to befriend them but I could not help but feel inferior to them because I was not born here and knew very little English. My parents always reminded me that I was Honduran before anything else, but I felt ashamed of who I was and where I came from. This was the moment I learned that America makes you give up a piece of your culture and identity in exchange for the “American Dream.” In an attempt to fit in, I threw away nearly everything I had known to be true about myself. Neither of my parents completed high school. They grew up watching all their teenage friends in Honduras run the same fate of remaining impoverished or dying at the hands of gang violence. Thus, my parents always instilled in me to prioritize my studies, as that is the only way out of the cycle they have known their entire lives. I started reading books from the school library. Reading transcended me to alternative realities where I felt at home. These stories significantly helped me learn English and they introduced me to the art of storytelling. As a result, I was improving in school, making friends and a passion within me began to sprawl. As I snuggled into the comfort of societal acceptance, I grew apart from my parents. I was doing well in school as they had wanted me to, but they were not as supportive as I had expected them to be. I did everything to prove myself as an exemplary daughter, but nothing was enough. As the years have gone by, I realize that although I may fit into my new world, I will not share a deep connection with my parents as I will never view the world the way they do. The pretty new world I have created for myself does not protect me from or sympathizes with my reality of potentially being deported and having to suffer the cruel reality of Honduras. On the other hand, my family fails to understand that this country has shaped me into who I am destined to be. My constant attempts to find a balance between these two worlds whose approval I have been seeking has shaped the core of my being. The race in finding my place in the world has been long, but I find that all my experiences have shaped me into exactly who I am, a storyteller. Reading children’s books helped me assimilate by teaching me a foreign language spoken in an already foreign land and now, storytelling is the medium that internally bridges my American and Honduran souls. As I seek to tell stories, my two worlds collide and at the center of my universe, I find that my worlds do not need to be at war, and I can confide in knowing that I can tell my truth.