Isabella Caratachea Pigtails, check. Glitter shirt, check. Flared pants, absolutely. In our family, everyone has a superpower (just ask my mom). Growing up, we talked often about how each kid in the family had something that set them apart from the whole world, and while they could quickly rattle off the magic for kids 1, 2, and 3, it seemed that when it got to number 4, the words got jumbled and a flurry of fragmented ideas came out. I was kid number 4 and my magic felt like a broken spell that fell short of being magical. Don’t get me wrong, I was quirky in all the great ways one can be. I started talking nonstop at the age of 2, I had imaginary friends, and of course a signature style. My parents always made sure that we were anchored in our culture. As a proud queer Chicana, I knew about all of the pieces that made me special, but my superpower, my magic was still to be discovered. When I was 8 years old, my parents signed me and my three siblings to a mariachi group called “Mariachi Los Reyes.” The practice room was full of beautiful instruments and it felt like I had never heard them before. Eventually all of us siblings found the instrument that fit in our hands. The guitar felt like it belonged in my arms and close to my heart. My little racing heart was fertile ground for the seed that blossomed into my life’s passion. I remember that day that my mariachi instructor heard me sing. I was so shy. My siblings insisted that I sing so everyone could see what they had already identified as my superpower. I looked at their beaming faces that were eager for others to discover the secret weapon they already knew about. I stood in my room and when I belted out the words it felt like for the first time the sounds that were sitting in my belly and heart came out through my throat. The words were free and it felt like so was I. I continued in this mariachi even when it meant finding ways for me and my siblings or friends to sing at free community events. I recognized that my draw to that first music room and to mariachi music was that mariachi music requires that all the musicians collaborate to create music that draws people together. Some mariachi songs have the trumpet as the lead for example and that reminded me that art allows you to both lead and follow when you’re working with others who have the same love and passion for art. I joined the LHS choir. Even though I had never been in a musical, I wanted to expand my reach and try something different while still being rooted in what I love. I worked hard to eventually become Vice President of my school's Choir Club and through this was able to work to incorporate mariachi music in our programming. The joy of finally involving some mariachi instruments in choir is so overwhelming. Now my school has guitarrónes, vihuelas, and guitars for all students to enjoy. I hope that the efforts I make help another student feel the same belonging I felt when I first began to sing. I hope that it becomes the seed for another little girl, like me, who is still waiting to discover her superpower. And those I touch see how collaboration is the secret sauce to making art that has ripple effects beyond what we can see in the moment.

There’s a saying in Spanish, ‘Ojos que no ven, corazón que no siente.” It means that your heart can’t feel what your eyes don’t see. My experience my Sophomore year of high school proved how true that is. October 30th, my dad had gone to the doctor complaining about kidney stone pain. Through an MRI, they discovered that he indeed had a kidney stone in his right kidney, but what we never expected was that they found an unexpected mass in his left kidney. When the doctor scheduled time to meet with him and look again because something seemed suspicious, I didn’t know how our lives were about to change. When my dad picked me up from school, I asked him about his appointment, but he avoided the question. When they finally sat me down, my mom was in tears. My dad looked at me, no tears in his eyes, “I’m not done being your papi” he said. My mom promised me that he would do everything the doctors told him because he knew that this family still needed him. We called my sisters who were both in college, reassured them that he would be fine and hung up. Their eyes didn’t have to stay in the room. They didn’t see my moms hands shaking as she made coffee. Their hearts could rest. With a restless heart I looked in the only place that I know to be my refuge. I looked to my faith and to God. I prayed with my whole heart for my dad's health, but most importantly, that he hold our hand through this process because I had no idea what was to come. I had to go to school as if my world wasn’t collapsing. My sisters didn’t seem to show the same devastation. Whenever I called them, they sounded so calm. Ojos que no ven, corazón que no siente. I pushed myself academically maybe more than ever before, not because I wanted to or because I was ambitious, but because I knew that my family couldn’t take one more burden. In class, I prayed. In the car, I prayed. Through my tears, I prayed. I didn't have elaborate prayers like I see some folks have in our church. I didn't have the right words and sometime I caught myself just repeating, "God, just help us. Just help us. Just please help us. This experience taught me that sometimes we excel because we’re driven and other times because excelling academically is the easiest thing in our lives. My grades didn't suffer and with our faith now strengthened I can share that my dad was right. He wasn’t done being my papi and has been cancer-free for over a year. I know that it was our faith and the honestly of our collective prayers that helped us stand together as a family.

How do we exist in a time where armed and masked government workers can separate a child from their parents because of a civil offense? Regardless of political perspective, I think most people would say that the current ICE raids (warranted or not) poses an ethical dilemma. I have strong feelings about what is happening, but I think a more interesting question is how. I would want to have an honest conversation about how this was allowed to happen and how we can prevent it in the future. I believe the path that led us here was one that required that as a society we are able to dehumanize a whole segment of our society. While there are many complex issues that have led us here, the solution I believe can be found in the love of God. I want to study theater and Chicano history because I believe in the power of the arts to bring us the face of Jesus' love and transform our perspectives and heal our communities. I believe in the beauty that can be mirrored to those impacted by inequity and also the raw realities that can be explored to folks who might turn the other way. As I think about social justice movements throughout the history of this state, I’m moved by how communities have used art to both move people to action and to heal. Through my engagement with the Dolores Huerta Foundation, I got to hear her speak about how the United Farm Workers used Teatro Campesino to educate the farm worker community of their rights. She talked about the many artists that contributed to the movement with their posters, songs and cartoons. I believe that the solution for how we live in a more mutually caring society begins with humanizing those that are different from us and more specifically through art. I have participated in youth ministry for many years and have had the opportunity to serve those most in need and specifically those who are living on the streets. Our work was not to diagnose, not to judge, not even to solve. Our work was to show God's love and mercy through a plate of food, a warm blanket, socks or a coat. I know that as I develop, I will learn more and more how complex the issues are that are impacting our society, but there's also a simple truth about God's love for all that is my guide. I believe this is what has allowed me to minister to my friends through my acts of service and love rather than through the use of my words or my judgement.

How do we exist in a time where people can sit on the other side of a screen and cause so much harm with the keyboard as their weapon of choice. armed and masked government workers can separate a child from their parents because of a civil offense? Regardless of political perspective on how to balance free speech with protecting others from cyber-bullying and harm, I think most people would say that the current state of online harm is not only unacceptable but lethal. I have strong feelings about what is happening, but I think a more interesting question is how. I would want to have an honest conversation about how this was allowed to happen and how we can prevent it in the future. I believe the path that led us here was one that required that as a society we are able to dehumanize others under the assumption that we will never see them or have to deal with the ramifications of the hurt we cause. While there are many complex issues that have led us here, the solution I believe can be found in the arts. I want to study theater because I believe in the power of the arts to transform our perspectives and heal our communities. I believe in the beauty that can be mirrored to those impacted by inequity and also the raw realities that can be explored to folks who might turn the other way. As I think about social justice movements throughout the history of this state, I’m moved by how communities have used art to both move people to action and to heal. Through my engagement with the Dolores Huerta Foundation, I got to hear her speak about how the United Farm Workers used Teatro Campesino to educate the farm worker community of their rights. She talked about the many artists that contributed to the movement with their posters, songs and cartoons. I believe that the solution for how we live in a more mutually caring society begins with humanizing those that are different from us and more specifically through art. I don't know that we will be able to have freedom of speech without the risk of some abusing that liberty to target vulnerable people. In fact I've seen our leaders engage in the exact harm youth leaders are working so hard to prevent. Judging by what I saw in the news, I assumed that our government leaders were people who studied politics and whose life ambition was to be a politician. After participating in the Chicano/Latino Youth Leadership Project, I came to understand that every community member has the power and responsibility to make transformative changes in their community through active civic engagement. I want to be a leader that uses my skills and talents or positional leadership role to foster a more equitable society. In my work with the Dolores Huerta Foundation, I supported voter education efforts in low-income communities because I believe that those facing the most injustice are the best positioned to lead us to long-term solutions. I’ve also used my positional leadership as VP of the Choir Club to initiate a mariachi guitar program that allows students to identify with the arts program at our high school. My vision of leadership is not one where others support the leader, but rather where the leader is truly looking for ways to draw out the leadership that already exists in our communities.

Pigtails, check. Glitter shirt, check. Flared pants, absolutely. In our family, everyone has a superpower (just ask my mom). Growing up, we talked often about how each kid in the family had something that set them apart from the whole world, and while they could quickly rattle off the magic for kids 1, 2, and 3, it seemed that when it got to number 4, the words got jumbled and a flurry of fragmented ideas came out. I was kid number 4 and my magic felt like a broken spell that fell short of being magical. Don’t get me wrong, I was quirky in all the great ways one can be. I started talking nonstop at the age of 2, I had imaginary friends, and of course a signature style. My parents always made sure that we were anchored in our history and culture. When I was 8 years old, my parents signed me and my three siblings to a mariachi group called “Mariachi Los Reyes.” The practice room was full of beautiful instruments and it felt like I had never heard them before. Eventually all of us siblings found the instrument that fit in our hands. The guitar felt like it belonged in my arms and close to my heart. My little racing heart was fertile ground for the seed that blossomed into my life’s passion. I remember that day that my mariachi instructor heard me sing. I was so shy. My siblings insisted that I sing so everyone could see what they had already identified as my superpower. I could see how much pride they felt. I looked at their beaming faces that were eager for others to discover the secret weapon they already knew about. I stood in my room and when I belted out the words it felt like for the first time the sounds that were sitting in my belly and heart came out through my throat. The words were free and it felt like so was I. After I sang, my instructor said, “Isabella, why didn’t we know?” From that moment forward he insisted that I sing any chance I got. I continued in this mariachi even when it meant doing it by myself at pop-up opportunities, community cultural events, or amateur nights in local artist collaboratives. Being featured in our local newspaper, was just enough to encourage me to continue to do what I loved. I joined the LHS choir. Even though I had never been in a musical, I wanted to expand my reach and try something different while still being rooted in what I love. During my first audition I was terrified and as usual, my hands were shaking. I was the last person to audition. My friends were floored to see that their shy friend belted out her piece with such force. I was given a key role in Emma and have participated in musicals ever since and my musical journey continued. I worked hard to eventually become Vice President of my school's Choir Club and through this was able to work to incorporate mariachi music in our programming. The joy of finally involving some mariachi instruments in choir is so overwhelming. Now my school has guitarrónes, vihuelas, and guitars for all students to enjoy. I hope that the efforts I make help another student feel the same belonging I felt when I first began to sing. I hope that it becomes the seed for another little girl, like me, who is still waiting to discover her superpower.

Pigtails, check. Glitter shirt, check. Flared pants, absolutely. In our family, everyone has a superpower (just ask my mom). Growing up, we talked often about how each kid in the family had something that set them apart from the whole world, and while they could quickly rattle off the magic for kids 1, 2, and 3, it seemed that when it got to number 4, the words got jumbled and a flurry of fragmented ideas came out. I was kid number 4 and my magic felt like a broken spell that fell short of being magical. Don’t get me wrong, I was quirky in all the great ways one can be. I started talking nonstop at the age of 2, I had imaginary friends, and of course a signature style. My parents always made sure that we were anchored in our history and culture. When I was 8 years old, my parents signed me and my three siblings to a mariachi group called “Mariachi Los Reyes.” The practice room was full of beautiful instruments and it felt like I had never heard them before. Eventually all of us siblings found the instrument that fit in our hands. The guitar felt like it belonged in my arms and close to my heart. My little racing heart was fertile ground for the seed that blossomed into my life’s passion. I remember that day that my mariachi instructor heard me sing. I was so shy. My siblings insisted that I sing so everyone could see what they had already identified as my superpower. I could see how much pride they felt. I looked at their beaming faces that were eager for others to discover the secret weapon they already knew about. I stood in my room and when I belted out the words it felt like for the first time the sounds that were sitting in my belly and heart came out through my throat. The words were free and it felt like so was I. After I sang, my instructor said, “Isabella, why didn’t we know?” From that moment forward he insisted that I sing any chance I got. I continued in this mariachi even when it meant doing it by myself at pop-up opportunities, community cultural events, or amateur nights in local artist collaboratives. Being featured in our local newspaper, was just enough to encourage me to continue to do what I loved. I joined the LHS choir. Even though I had never been in a musical, I wanted to expand my reach and try something different while still being rooted in what I love. During my first audition I was terrified and as usual, my hands were shaking. I was the last person to audition. My friends were floored to see that their shy friend belted out her piece with such force. I was given a key role in Emma and have participated in musicals ever since and my musical journey continued. I worked hard to eventually become Vice President of my school's Choir Club and through this was able to work to incorporate mariachi music in our programming. The joy of finally involving some mariachi instruments in choir is so overwhelming. Now my school has guitarrónes, vihuelas, and guitars for all students to enjoy. I hope that the efforts I make help another student feel the same belonging I felt when I first began to sing. I hope that it becomes the seed for another little girl, like me, who is still waiting to discover her superpower.

Pigtails, check. Glitter shirt, check. Flared pants, absolutely. In our family, everyone has a superpower (just ask my mom). Growing up, we talked often about how each kid in the family had something that set them apart from the whole world, and while they could quickly rattle off the magic for kids 1, 2, and 3, it seemed that when it got to number 4, the words got jumbled and a flurry of fragmented ideas came out. I was kid number 4 and my magic felt like a broken spell that fell short of being magical. Don’t get me wrong, I was quirky in all the great ways one can be. I started talking nonstop at the age of 2, I had imaginary friends, and of course a signature style. My parents always made sure that we were anchored in our history and culture. When I was 8 years old, my parents signed me and my three siblings to a mariachi group called “Mariachi Los Reyes.” The practice room was full of beautiful instruments and it felt like I had never heard them before. Eventually all of us siblings found the instrument that fit in our hands. The guitar felt like it belonged in my arms and close to my heart. My little racing heart was fertile ground for the seed that blossomed into my life’s passion. I remember that day that my mariachi instructor heard me sing. I was so shy. My siblings insisted that I sing so everyone could see what they had already identified as my superpower. I could see how much pride they felt. I looked at their beaming faces that were eager for others to discover the secret weapon they already knew about. I stood in my room and when I belted out the words it felt like for the first time the sounds that were sitting in my belly and heart came out through my throat. The words were free and it felt like so was I. After I sang, my instructor said, “Isabella, why didn’t we know?” From that moment forward he insisted that I sing any chance I got. I continued in this mariachi even when it meant doing it by myself at pop-up opportunities, community cultural events, or amateur nights in local artist collaboratives. Being featured in our local newspaper, was just enough to encourage me to continue to do what I loved. I joined the LHS choir. Even though I had never been in a musical, I wanted to expand my reach and try something different while still being rooted in what I love. During my first audition I was terrified and as usual, my hands were shaking. I was the last person to audition. My friends were floored to see that their shy friend belted out her piece with such force. I was given a key role in Emma and have participated in musicals ever since and my musical journey continued. I worked hard to eventually become Vice President of my school's Choir Club and through this was able to work to incorporate mariachi music in our programming. The joy of finally involving some mariachi instruments in choir is so overwhelming. Now my school has guitarrónes, vihuelas, and guitars for all students to enjoy. I hope that the efforts I make help another student feel the same belonging I felt when I first began to sing. I hope that it becomes the seed for another little girl, like me, who is still waiting to discover her superpower.

Pigtails, check. Glitter shirt, check. Flared pants, absolutely. In our family, everyone has a superpower (just ask my mom). Growing up, we talked often about how each kid in the family had something that set them apart from the whole world, and while they could quickly rattle off the magic for kids 1, 2, and 3, it seemed that when it got to number 4, the words got jumbled and a flurry of fragmented ideas came out. I was kid number 4 and my magic felt like a broken spell that fell short of being magical. Don’t get me wrong, I was quirky in all the great ways one can be. I started talking nonstop at the age of 2, I had imaginary friends, and of course a signature style. My parents always made sure that we were anchored in our history and culture. When I was 8 years old, my parents signed me and my three siblings to a mariachi group called “Mariachi Los Reyes.” The practice room was full of beautiful instruments and it felt like I had never heard them before. Eventually all of us siblings found the instrument that fit in our hands. The guitar felt like it belonged in my arms and close to my heart. My little racing heart was fertile ground for the seed that blossomed into my life’s passion. I remember that day that my mariachi instructor heard me sing. I was so shy. My siblings insisted that I sing so everyone could see what they had already identified as my superpower. I could see how much pride they felt. I looked at their beaming faces that were eager for others to discover the secret weapon they already knew about. I stood in my room and when I belted out the words it felt like for the first time the sounds that were sitting in my belly and heart came out through my throat. The words were free and it felt like so was I. After I sang, my instructor said, “Isabella, why didn’t we know?” From that moment forward he insisted that I sing any chance I got. I continued in this mariachi even when it meant doing it by myself at pop-up opportunities, community cultural events, or amateur nights in local artist collaboratives. The first time I was featured in our local newspaper, I felt inspired. It was just enough to encourage me to continue to do what I loved. I joined the LHS choir. Even though I had never been in a musical, I wanted to expand my reach and try something different while still being rooted in what I love. During my first audition I was terrified and as usual, my hands were shaking. I was the last person to audition. My friends were floored to see that their shy friend belted out her piece with such force. I was given a key role in Emma and have participated in musicals ever since and my musical journey continued. I worked hard to eventually become Vice President of my school's Choir Club and through this was able to work to incorporate mariachi music in our programming. The joy of finally involving some mariachi instruments in choir is so overwhelming. Now my school has guitarrónes, vihuelas, and guitars for all students to enjoy. I hope that the efforts I make help another student feel the same belonging I felt when I first began to sing. I hope that it becomes the seed for another little girl, like me, who is still waiting to discover her superpower.

Isabella Caratachea Pigtails, check. Glitter shirt, check. Flared pants, absolutely. In our family, everyone has a superpower (just ask my mom). Growing up, we talked often about how each kid in the family had something that set them apart from the whole world, and while they could quickly rattle off the magic for kids 1, 2, and 3, it seemed that when it got to number 4, the words got jumbled and a flurry of fragmented ideas came out. I was kid number 4 and my magic felt like a broken spell that fell short of being magical. Don’t get me wrong, I was quirky in all the great ways one can be. I started talking nonstop at the age of 2, I had imaginary friends, and of course a signature style. My parents always made sure that we were anchored in our history and culture. As a queer Chicana, who is proud of my identity and the culture, I knew about all of the pieces that made me special, but my superpower, my magic was still to be discovered. When I was 8 years old, my parents signed me and my three siblings to a mariachi group called “Mariachi Los Reyes.” The practice room was full of beautiful instruments and it felt like I had never heard them before. Eventually all of us siblings found the instrument that fit in our hands. The guitar felt like it belonged in my arms and close to my heart. My little racing heart was fertile ground for the seed that blossomed into my life’s passion. I remember that day that my mariachi instructor heard me sing. I was so shy. My siblings insisted that I sing so everyone could see what they had already identified as my superpower. I could see how much pride they felt. I looked at their beaming faces that were eager for others to discover the secret weapon they already knew about. I stood in my room and when I belted out the words it felt like for the first time the sounds that were sitting in my belly and heart came out through my throat. The words were free and it felt like so was I. After I sang, my instructor said, “Isabella, why didn’t we know?” From that moment forward he insisted that I sing any chance I got. I continued in this mariachi even when it meant doing it by myself at pop-up opportunities, community cultural events, or amateur nights in local artist collaboratives. The first time I was featured in our local newspaper, I felt like I had finally become famous and although our town only had 30,000 people, it was just enough to encourage me to continue to do what I loved. I joined the LHS choir. Even though I had never been in a musical, I wanted to expand my reach and try something different while still being rooted in what I love. During my first audition I was terrified and as usual, my hands were shaking. I was the last person to audition. My friends were floored to see that their shy friend belted out her piece with such force. I was given a key role in Emma and have participated in musicals ever since and my musical journey continued. I worked hard to eventually become Vice President of my school's Choir Club and through this was able to work to incorporate mariachi music in our programming. The joy of finally involving some mariachi instruments in choir is so overwhelming. Now my school has guitarrónes, vihuelas, and guitars for all students to enjoy. I hope that the efforts I make help another student feel the same belonging I felt when I first began to sing. I hope that it becomes the seed for another little girl, like me, who is still waiting to discover her superpower.