As a current student in the University of Southern California (USC) Master of Social Work (MSW) program, I’ve been experiencing a lot of growth, learning, and reflection. Graduate school pushes you to think critically, not just about theory and practice, but also about identity, power, and who gets to speak for whom. Recently, I found myself feeling confused. In two different moments in my program, I listened to social work professionals from the Latinx community speak about the Black...

The beginning of my journey starts in Phoenix. I wasn’t raised here. I don’t carry childhood memories of these streets or long family histories rooted in this soil. But Phoenix is where I germinated, where I first began to stretch, question, and grow before being repotted elsewhere. Coming back to this land feels less like returning home and more like visiting the place where the seed cracked open. Hiking Hole in the Rock is deceptively simple. The trail is short, the elevation manageable,...

The other day I spoke to my father, and our conversation felt like scraping open an old bruise— one he put there, one he pretends not to see. We haven’t been in a good place, but the truth is, there was never a good place for us to stand. He built our relationship on quicksand, then blamed me for sinking. I know he only tries with me because I’m his blood, not because he ever chose me. There’s no warmth in his effort— just duty, just obligation, just the bare minimum wrapped in a fake smile....