It never really clicked until I was standing in front of 600 students. On May 17th, 2019, I got on stage, in the middle of Times Square, and told my story with the purpose of inspiring students like myself to speak out and act in their communities. As I took the microphone and began to speak, the night I stood in the embrace of my mother in the midst of all the chaos echoed in my head. At a very young age, I took those words of desperation and transformed them into inspiration. To my knowledge, my parents split; leaving my mother to fend for herself and her three children. Subsequently, my mother worked tirelessly; working multiple jobs, saving up, and eventually opened up her own salon. The promise of a family-owned business was crippled when my older sister, Crystal, went into a three-day coma. My mother stuck by Crystal’s side through the entire process, sleeping on hospital chairs as her first born’s life, and her business withered away. The gas and lights were cut as we faced eviction. At ten years old, I sat there in a dark room while the aroma of rotting food from the powerless refrigerator overpowered our three-bedroom apartment. I looked into the sorrowful eyes of my mother and understood. There was nothing I could do about our finances, Crystal’s health, or Stacy’s life decisions; all I could do was to go to school every day and do my best. What I experienced at school was a universe away from the troubles I had at home. I traveled forty-five minutes to the Gifted and Talented program in my predominantly white middle school. While my experience may not have been perfect, my schooling was astronomically better than some of my neighbors. For that reason, I got involved with IntegrateNYC, a youth-led organization that aims to dismantle segregation in New York City public schools. We planned and organized a “retirement party” for segregation in Times Square, held on the sixty-fifth anniversary of Brown v. Board of Education. We mobilized over 600 students from across the 5 boroughs of New York City with the goal of raising awareness about this issue and inspiring action. On the day of the event, I was nervous. I had never spoken in front of a crowd before, much less about being a young, impoverished, Dominican boy from Queens. However, on that day, the realization that I have a higher calling to use my voice registered. As I methodically weaved through my story, I sensed the energy of an electrified crowd extracting inspiration from my words. At a very young age, I can say that I know what I want to do with my life. By pursuing higher education and becoming a lawyer, I would be paving the way to level out the playing field for kids like me. They say that growth is an uncomfortable process and pain is a necessary investment for progress.

It never really clicked until I was standing in front of 600 students. On May 17th, 2019, I got on stage, in the middle of Times Square, and told my story with the purpose of inspiring students like myself to speak out and act in their communities. As I took the microphone and began to speak, the night I stood in the embrace of my mother in the midst of all the chaos echoed in my head. At a very young age, I took those words of desperation and transformed them into inspiration. For as long as I have known, my parents have been separated. To my knowledge, my parents split; leaving my mother to fend for herself and her three children. Subsequently, my mother worked tirelessly; working multiple jobs, saving up, and eventually opened up her own salon. The promise of a family-owned business was crippled when my older sister, Crystal, went into a three-day coma, subjecting her to a hospital bed for weeks. My other older sister, Stacy, was too busy hanging out to help. My mother stuck by Crystal’s side through the entire process, sleeping on hospital chairs as her first born’s life, and her business, withered away. The gas and lights were cut as we faced eviction. At ten years old, I sat there in a dark room while the aroma of rotting food from the powerless refrigerator overpowered our three-bedroom apartment. I looked into the sorrowful eyes of my mother and understood. There was nothing I could do about our finances, Crystal’s health, or Stacy’s life decisions; all I could do was to go to school every day and do my best. What I experienced at school was a universe away from the troubles I had at home. I traveled forty-five minutes to the Gifted and Talented program in my predominantly white middle school, rendering me the point person when slavery was the topic at hand. It wasn’t until my sophomore year of high school that I started to realize how privileged I was to have attended these schools. While my experience may not have been perfect, my schooling was astronomically better than some of my neighbors. For that reason, I got involved with IntegrateNYC, a youth-led organization that aims to dismantle segregation in New York City public schools. We planned and organized a “retirement party” for segregation in Times Square, held on the sixty-fifth anniversary of Brown v. Board of Education. We mobilized over 600 students from across the 5 boroughs of New York City with the goal of raising awareness about this issue and inspiring action. On the day of the event, I was nervous. I had never spoken in front of a crowd before, much less about being a young, impoverished, Dominican boy from Queens. The crowd of primarily young people held signs and chanted in solidarity, even blocking traffic. I was called to the stage; my voice cracked as I started to speak. However, on that day, the realization that I have a higher calling to use my voice registered. As I methodically weaved through my story, I sensed the energy of an electrified crowd extracting inspiration from my words. At a very young age, I can say that I know what I want to do with my life. By pursuing higher education, becoming a lawyer, and ultimately being elected into public office, I would be paving the way to level out the playing field for kids like me. They say that growth is an uncomfortable process and pain is a necessary investment for progress.

It never really clicked until I was standing in front of 600 students. On May 17th, 2019, I got on stage, in the middle of Times Square, and told my story with the purpose of inspiring students like myself to speak out and act in their communities. As I took the microphone and began to speak, the night I stood in the embrace of my mother in the midst of all the chaos echoed in my head. At a very young age, I took those words of desperation and transformed them into inspiration. For as long as I have known, my parents have been separated. To my knowledge, my parents split; leaving my mother to fend for herself and her three children. Subsequently, my mother worked tirelessly; working multiple jobs, saving up, and eventually opened up her own salon. The promise of a family-owned business was crippled when my older sister, Crystal, went into a three-day coma, subjecting her to a hospital bed for weeks. My other older sister, Stacy, was too busy hanging out to help. My mother stuck by Crystal’s side through the entire process, sleeping on hospital chairs as her first born’s life, and her business withered away. The gas and lights were cut as we faced eviction. At ten years old, I sat there in a dark room while the aroma of rotting food from the powerless refrigerator overpowered our three-bedroom apartment. I looked into the sorrowful eyes of my mother and understood. There was nothing I could do about our finances, Crystal’s health, or Stacy’s life decisions; all I could do was to go to school every day and do my best. What I experienced at school was a universe away from the troubles I had at home. I traveled forty-five minutes to the Gifted and Talented program in my predominantly white middle school, rendering me the point person when slavery was the topic at hand. It wasn’t until my sophomore year of high school that I started to realize how privileged I was to have attended these schools. While my experience may not have been perfect, my schooling was astronomically better than some of my neighbors. For that reason, I got involved with IntegrateNYC, a youth-led organization that aims to dismantle segregation in New York City public schools. We planned and organized a “retirement party” for segregation in Times Square, held on the sixty-fifth anniversary of Brown v. Board of Education. We mobilized over 600 students from across the 5 boroughs of New York City with the goal of raising awareness about this issue and inspiring action. On the day of the event, I was nervous. I had never spoken in front of a crowd before, much less about being a young, impoverished, Dominican boy from Queens. The crowd of primarily young people held signs and chanted in solidarity, even blocking traffic. I was called to the stage; my voice cracked as I started to speak. However, on that day, the realization that I have a higher calling to use my voice registered. As I methodically weaved through my story, I sensed the energy of an electrified crowd extracting inspiration from my words. At a very young age, I can say that I know what I want to do with my life. By pursuing higher education and becoming a lawyer I would be paving the way to level out the playing field for kids like me. They say that growth is an uncomfortable process and pain is a necessary investment for progress.

It never really clicked until I was standing in front of 600 students. On May 17th, 2019, I got on stage, in the middle of Times Square, and told my story with the purpose of inspiring students like myself to speak out and act in their communities. As I took the microphone and began to speak, the night I stood in the embrace of my mother in the midst of all the chaos echoed in my head. At a very young age, I took those words of desperation and transformed them into inspiration. For as long as I have known, my parents have been separated. To my knowledge, my parents split; leaving my mother to fend for herself and her three children. Subsequently, my mother worked tirelessly; working multiple jobs, saving up, and eventually opened up her own salon. The promise of a family-owned business was crippled when my older sister, Crystal, went into a three-day coma, subjecting her to a hospital bed for weeks. My other older sister, Stacy, was too busy hanging out to help. My mother stuck by Crystal’s side through the entire process, sleeping on hospital chairs as her first born’s life, and her business, withered away. The gas and lights were cut as we faced eviction. At ten years old, I sat there in a dark room while the aroma of rotting food from the powerless refrigerator overpowered our three-bedroom apartment. I looked into the sorrowful eyes of my mother and understood. There was nothing I could do about our finances, Crystal’s health, or Stacy’s life decisions; all I could do was to go to school every day and do my best. What I experienced at school was a universe away from the troubles I had at home. I traveled forty-five minutes to the Gifted and Talented program in my predominantly white middle school, rendering me the point person when slavery was the topic at hand. I participated in the Discovery program, a summer school program that creates a pipeline for disadvantaged youth to enroll in the elite high schools in New York City. It wasn’t until my sophomore year of high school that I started to realize how privileged I was to have attended these schools. While my experience may not have been perfect, my schooling was astronomically better than some of my neighbors. For that reason, I got involved with IntegrateNYC, a youth-led organization that aims to dismantle segregation in New York City public schools. We planned and organized a “retirement party” for segregation in Times Square, held on the sixty-fifth anniversary of Brown v. Board of Education. We mobilized over 600 students from across the 5 boroughs of New York City with the goal of raising awareness about this issue and inspiring action. On the day of the event, I was nervous. I had never spoken in front of a crowd before, much less about being a young, impoverished, Dominican boy from Queens. The crowd of primarily young people held signs and chanted in solidarity, even blocking traffic. I was called to the stage; my voice cracked as I started to speak. However, on that day, the realization that I have a higher calling to use my voice registered. As I methodically weaved through my story, I sensed the energy of an electrified crowd extracting inspiration from my words. At a very young age, I can say that I know what I want to do with my life. By pursuing higher education, becoming a lawyer, and ultimately being elected into public office, I would be paving the way to level out the playing field for kids like me. They say that growth is an uncomfortable process and pain is a necessary investment for progress. This resonates deeply with me as my experiences have served as a catalyst for my leadership in the fight for school integration.

It never really clicked until I was standing in front of 600 students. On May 17th, 2019, I got on stage, in the middle of Times Square, and told my story with the purpose of inspiring students like myself to speak out and act in their communities. As I took the microphone and began to speak, the night I stood in the embrace of my mother in the midst of all the chaos echoed in my head. At a very young age, I took those words of desperation and transformed them into inspiration. For as long as I have known, my parents have been separated. To my knowledge, my parents split; leaving my mother to fend for herself and her three children. Subsequently, my mother worked tirelessly; working multiple jobs, saving up, and eventually opened up her own salon. The promise of a family-owned business was crippled when my older sister, Crystal, went into a three-day coma, subjecting her to a hospital bed for weeks. My other older sister, Stacy, was too busy hanging out to help. My mother stuck by Crystal’s side through the entire process, sleeping on hospital chairs as her first born’s life, and her business, withered away. The gas and lights were cut as we faced eviction. At ten years old, I sat there in a dark room while the aroma of rotting food from the powerless refrigerator overpowered our three-bedroom apartment. I looked into the sorrowful eyes of my mother and understood. There was nothing I could do about our finances, Crystal’s health, or Stacy’s life decisions; all I could do was to go to school every day and do my best. What I experienced at school was a universe away from the troubles I had at home. I traveled forty-five minutes to the Gifted and Talented program in my predominantly white middle school, rendering me the point person when slavery was the topic at hand. I participated in the Discovery program, a summer school program that creates a pipeline for disadvantaged youth to enroll in the elite high schools in New York City. It wasn’t until my sophomore year of high school that I started to realize how privileged I was to have attended these schools. While my experience may not have been perfect, my schooling was astronomically better than some of my neighbors. For that reason, I got involved with IntegrateNYC, a youth-led organization that aims to dismantle segregation in New York City public schools. We planned and organized a “retirement party” for segregation in Times Square, held on the sixty-fifth anniversary of Brown v. Board of Education. We mobilized over 600 students from across the 5 boroughs of New York City with the goal of raising awareness about this issue and inspiring action. On the day of the event, I was nervous. I had never spoken in front of a crowd before, much less about being a young, impoverished, Dominican boy from Queens. The crowd of primarily young people held signs and chanted in solidarity, even blocking traffic. I was called to the stage; my voice cracked as I started to speak. However, on that day, the realization that I have a higher calling to use my voice registered. As I methodically weaved through my story, I sensed the energy of an electrified crowd extracting inspiration from my words. At a very young age, I can say that I know what I want to do with my life. By pursuing higher education, becoming a lawyer, and ultimately being elected into public office, I would be paving the way to level out the playing field for kids like me. They say that growth is an uncomfortable process and pain is a necessary investment for progress. This resonates deeply with me as my experiences have served as a catalyst for my leadership in the fight for school integration.

In 2020 I commenced the journey to loving myself. It’s a very scary world we’re living in. We’re living in a global pandemic that has exacerbated countless underlying and overlooked issues. Racial justice issues and movements, especially, have been catalyzed to the forefront of current issues. Too many people have died at the hands of COVID 19 and the police. It is so hard to catch your breath with all of the stories of death and violence that proliferate the news cycles. On any given day one can open up their phone to their timeline availing news of domestic terrorists acting as soldiers of white supremacy or of police brutalizing Black and Brown folks across the nation. As an Afro-Latino man living in America, I live in a constant state of fear for my life and the lives of my loved ones. To survive to live a new day is an act of resistance. Self-preservation and self-love are acts of resistance to an oppressive system. I tried my best to avoid the news and social media to self-reflect and I came to the conclusion that life is beautifully chaotic. I really contemplated the fact that I am a human being that just happens to exist at this exact time in history. At the same time, I was put here for a reason for which I explore through my passions. And while I acknowledge that this is a never-ending journey, I am still proud of myself for my progress thus far in this lifelong evolution. I am actively learning to unapologetically love myself. Continually, I have utilized this self-acceptance to dismantle my internal biases and propel my passion for social justice to every sector of my life. Loving myself means doing things that I want to do in the way that I want to do them. It’s living freely, it’s chasing your passion and it has led to me finding happiness and success in school where I have excelled academically. I have a 3.8-grade point average and was accepted into the inaugural 3 + 3 Bachelors of Arts to Juris Doctor Joint Degree Program at Howard University. As far as my career goes, I am the Executive Director of Outreach and Partnerships at the Peer Defense Project, the legal arm of IntegrateNYC, and an intergenerational movement lawyering firm. And in my life, as I truly prioritizing myself and my happiness in every relationship and situation that I am in. Learning to love me was not easy and I’m still in the process, but I have quickly learned that you cannot love anyone or anything until you love yourself first.