Untitled
Daysi Calavia-Lopez, Age 17. Miami, Florida
My Life Changing Experience
Jennifer Murillo, Age 18. Wilmington, California
Untitled
Priska Neely, Age 16. Silver Spring, Maryland
“In Days of Old…”
Autumn Thomas-Brown, Age 16. Washington, D.C.
Beyond Words...
Karen Diaz, Age 15. Upper Marlboro, Maryland
Untitled
Hunter Braithwaite, Age 18. Virginia Beach, Virginia
¿Porque periodista?
Lady Yineth Cáceres, 18 Años. Braselton, Georgia
Untitled
Katherine Witt, Age 16. Brian’s Road, Maryland
Untitled
Jessica Almonte, Age 16. Silver Spring, Maryland
A Realization
Monica Barrera, Age 19. Wellington, Florida
A Dying Soul
Angelica Gregory, Age 14. Washington, D.C.
Creando un mundo mejor
Elizabeth Chávez, Age 16. Silver Spring, Maryland
Un Mañana Mejor
Lizset Chávez, Age 16. Silver Spring, Maryland
Untitled
Daysi Calavia-Lopez, Age 17. Miami, Florida
I am a journalist. I wake up everyday loving who I am. Not what I do, but who I am. Is there not a fine line between love and hate? I get up early and take a walk around my neighborhood. Some people look angry inside their cars driving out of their driveways going to work. I pity them. I never work. Yet I am always paid, every day. Well. Fine you got me, every other day.
I try to write as much as I can. I love covering my community. I love talking to people and knowing about their lives and their stories and the jobs they hate and the ones they like and even obituaries are exciting really. You can learn so much about someone's life without ever having met them. It's hard to believe that anyone would want to write an obit. I'm not saying obits are my favorite thing to write. Let's not get morbid. Not me, I’d rather travel and learn about people's cultures and about other communities in our countries. It always intrigues me the similarities and differences in people all over the world.
So although I like community news, I'll tell you a secret. My big dream is to become a foreign correspondent. Send me to Baghdad, Lima, Madrid, Paris! Mail me away wherever you need me to be. Ship me off! My satisfaction would come in bringing the news home. Doing reports, asking questions, needing to know the how's and why's and when's. Giving a voice to the unheard, shining a light on injustices, enforcing that great power that we as journalists have, the power of the press, there's nothing I'd rather do. Like the late Katharine Graham owner of the Washington Post once said "Doing what you love and feeling that it matters, what else could be more fun?"
Some people might feel it's scary to be that person standing there with a microphone while there's a hurricane going on in back of you, or while there's constant bombing taking place, or while there's rioting; and they're not wrong to feel afraid but not everyone was born to do that job. I feel like I was. I desire to be that person. I feel thrilled just imagining it. And I'll admit that going out there can sometimes feel like you're going out to a whole different world. But that world is ours to discover and everyday there are new things happening to everyone all over the world and I want to be one of those people telling the lunch lady, and the nurse, and the soccer mom and dad about what's happening in Rome or in Russia.
I want to be there when you open up your morning paper. I want to be there when you're watching the news. Print. Broadcast. And I won't lie. I love taking photographs. Taking the right shot to go with the story I'm working on. A photograph can make it or break it. A person might dislike the photograph next to an article and skip it or vice versa.
Journalism is like a diamond with many edges to choose from. I choose all the edges. I hope to be able to learn about and participate in all forms of journalism at some point in my career. And if there's one thing I will always make sure to do, is to never lose my journalistic ethics and never compromise my beliefs and morals to get ahead of my competitors or to cover a story.
I'll never abuse my power as a journalist to take advantage of someone, defame them, or mislead them. I have made a commitment with myself to always honor my profession. Bylines, live reports, telling photographs, and maintaining that respect for not only what I do but who I am, nothing else on this earth would give me more satisfaction. Like that song says, "I can't get no satisfaction…..”
My Life Changing Experience
Jennifer Murillo, Age 18. Wilmington, California
Having the opportunity to meet and speak to so many people in the journalism business made such a difference in my life of trying to make it into the business; especially speaking to someone so motivating and full of life such as Michael Quintanilla. On my first visit to Washington, D.C., I had the chance to meet with this wonder man who really has inspired me to keep on following my dreams of being a great and respected journalist. Being able to hear to his wonderful presentation of “Joys of Journalism” was so inspiring to me because many times I have felt that I won’t have the support or ability to make my dreams come true.
Listening to him inspired me in so many ways. He made me realize that I shouldn’t let anyone put me down, and everything I do should be done for my own well-being. Michael Quintanilla went through so many hardships in his life and still made it to be a successful journalist. It has made me realize that I also can do the same, and be well respected by all my colleagues.
Many times I have felt that I won’t be able to make it into the business, especially not knowing how to work or get a job in these respected networks. I’m a first generation child that will be the “pathfinder” for the rest of my family, and I know that I need to work really hard to find my own ways to get the proper information for my career. I have really huge aspirations to be successful and although my family supports me, they really don’t understand what I have to go through.
My family knows that I’m a bright young woman, but in their eyes they don’t really believe I can make it into this very competitive world. My family tries to push me to keep on following my dreams, but at the same time they tell me that I need to keep my feet on the ground and not dream too high. Although I know I need to keep my humility, I also know that I need to find the strength to keep on working hard, no matter if I have no one standing behind me.
Having the chance to meet someone so marvelous as Michael inspired me to never give up. I had the chance to listen to his real life stories which made me realize that anyone who really wants something, can achieve it. I know that he probably has inspired many people like me, and made us all realize that you shouldn’t let anyone put you down no matter who you are.
Everyone is equal, and although many times we aren’t treated as so- we just need to always keep a positive mind. Michael Quintanilla should keep giving his presentation; I know that he would push and inspire people like me who don’t have all the confidence and support they need to continue to follow this career.
Untitled
Priska Neely, Age 16. Silver Spring, Maryland
On August 4, 2004, I was mad. Not mad really, no red eyes and steaming ears, but I was frustrated. I knew that this conference would be a great experience and learning opportunity, but I had also come to realize that I would not know anyone there. I’ve been working on my bravery and risk-taking skills since… well most of my life and knew I’d made progress. However, I was sick and tired of being the one to utter the big H-I. Why did I have to start conversations? Why did I have to introduce myself? Couldn’t people just gravitate towards me? Did I have a sign on my forehead that said, “Do not address this girl, she will approach you first?” So for the first day, I was determined not to talk to anyone. I knew there were other lonely, isolated, nervous people there, so I was waiting for them to come to me. To make a long and slightly depressing story short, that didn’t go so well and I decided to go back to saying hi and hello (quite simple words when you think about it, but much easier spelled than spoken).
On the second day of the conference, which I knew would be incredibly long and somewhat boring without a buddy; I decided I would have to find someone. “Life is what you make it,” I said to myself as I took a confident, yet shaky step towards the empty seat beside the stranger I was determined to make my friend. Ok, I sat down. I felt good; proud of my step in the right direction. A light smile began creeping into the corners of my mouth, quickly fading after I realized I hadn’t actually spoken yet and that I had been talking to myself for the past few minutes. I spent a few minutes going over basic conversation starters, such as; “Hi my name’s Priska,” “Hey! What’s your name?” and general statements about the weather. I decided to go with, “Are you in the Creating Future Journalists Program?” Was that so hard? With those few words, the excitement had begun and I had someone to talk to all day.
So while someone reading this must be thinking, “Wow, this girl has problems!” I’m actually just a devoted believer in thinking before I speak. This is a wonderful philosophy, which has assisted me in life numerous times, but one that has also worked to my own detriment. It’s weird though, as many times as I get nervous about approaching someone, my heart rarely skips a beat during an interview. When I enter the world of journalism, I put on my reporter hat and am no longer a scared teenager, afraid of saying, “What’s up?” I become a brave soul, ready to ask, “Who? What? Where? When? Why? And How?”
The conference helped me to realize several things about myself. One, that I can navigate the subway system on my own; two, I don’t like extremely greasy pizza; and three; I want to be a journalist and I can make it happen. I can now dream of the days when I am a professional journalist attending the conference on the opposite side of the spectrum. To make it there, I need to incorporate the bravery I have in journalism into all aspects of my life, being willing to introduce myself and uncover the story that makes everyone that I encounter unique.
“In Days of Old…”
Autumn Thomas-Brown, Age 16. Washington, D.C.
Being a young person nowadays is quite different from forty, sixty or even ten years ago. Not only have the fashions changed but also the way people, especially the youth, treat each other.
Now besides the fact that yesterday’s standards of decency would never tolerate what is inside today’s club; if your grandparents were inside, you could be sure they they’d have a heart attack. The dancing is one thing; being a frenzy of “bumping and grinding,” bodies pressed against each other. Body language of the youth of today is oriented towards sex. Two decades ago can be expected to appear somewhat similar in that aspect but to the second previous generation, it is pretty appalling.
Once one gets accustomed to the body language, the next problem they must tackle is the wardrobe. The more conservative females in the club are still showing off quite a bit of skin. Skirts are almost all above knee-length, many reaching as far as mid-thigh or higher. Women’s tops come in a variety of shapes and lengths but one of the most popular types is form fitting, Spandex top with thin straps, that may include a low neckline. Men’s dress is quite the opposite. It’s one thing for a man to show skin but quite another for a woman. The latest fashion in menswear is baggy pants that are slung very low across the hips, almost to the point of falling off and certainly exposing the young man’s underwear. Compared to the below-the-knee skirts and collared shirts of the 1920’s, the apocalypse is near or we all might as well go naked.
Following any wardrobe issues our elders may have is the shock of the way the youth communicate in general. The music we listen to and the TV we watch all reflect the way in which we speak to one another. Cursing is a popular form of expression and the level of vulgarity experienced today in an everyday conversation with a young person would be astounding to someone at least fifty years our senior. Even our version of common slang contains words that a young person in 1925 would never dare say. Elvis was controversial in his time but he’s nothing compared to the trends of today.
The common club is a prime example of the changes that have occurred over the past few decades. The presence of the most popular trends is felt there because of the amount of youth contained there and the freedom of the atmosphere in general, also because the social status quo is held there. One big disadvantage to the maintenance of the status quo here is that originality and morals tend to slip away from the youth. They are pressured by their peers to do things they might not do otherwise and this is not necessarily the desired outcome. Although many of the challenges faced by us today were faced by our elders also, the degree to which they seem to affect us and the ways in which they affect us tend to seem more extreme. There is constant pressure to become the enigma that is known as “being cool.”
Although many of the tests that must be overcome by the youth today are more hazardous than those of fifty years ago, there are many young people with good morals and concepts, which allows them to live well and teach their elders about the progresses of their time. In the end, being a young person these days isn’t so bad.
Beyond Words......
Karen Diaz, Age 15. Upper Marlboro, Maryland
I don’t think there are any words to describe fully what being an adolescent in this era of time is like. It is truly beyond words. With all the emotions and drama that happen to us on a daily basis words just simply aren’t enough. We go through so much more than what the adults around us see. I know some adults may think that they know or understand us, but that is not true. Unfortunately, we have so much more thrown at us then anyone can imagine. Now we have been fully prepped for those challenges. Adults like to categorize the young adults based on appearance and it is unfair. The era in which they were brought up is a 360 degrees turn. It just simply isn’t the same. Adults like to pretend or “fake,” as we young people like to phrase it as, as if they weren’t once in adolescence with the parties and the peer pressure. It’s sometimes scary because the violence is at a higher rate and it’s done for no apparent reason. There is no comparison from then to now but to explain what it’s like for us.
There are more opportunities for us. The fact that there are so many activities with equal opportunity we have more exposure to a lot of negative environments. It’s hard for us to fit in if we are new in a place. It seems that possessions are so much more valuable than education. We are constantly tested with everything that we do, so much is asked from us that at some point it is quite ridiculous. I am not saying that everyone shouldn’t expect more from us but just that progress is a slow process. With constant questioning of our knowledge and honesty it is a wonder that we can persevere over these challenges. It is at times an honor to be so overestimated.
Adolescences want more then anything to be understood. It means so much to have an adult or an elder to just understand. The world today is quote honestly in shambles. Such breakthroughs that we have made just so that the same mistakes are made all over again. Adults sometimes look at the young adults and assume so much and expect so little from us. They think we have it so easy but to no one’s realization it is the hardest it’s ever been. We have to compete with ourselves and with our peers to prove ourselves. We have so many luxuries and technology so we are expected to understand more complicated functions and equations. The world got so high tech on us that we are given these mass run-throughs of information that back then took eons to teach. Patience with the adolescents is the key to understanding our struggle.
Our struggle meaning basically the tests and tribulations we go through. Our loyalties and honesty are constantly tested. Although not all of us live in the hard knocks we all have our own versions of it. We are so much more then the stereotypes. Our lives change frequently with divorce, death and all the struggles and pains of life. We have learned to adjust and that’s what keeps us afloat. We need more attention because we have so many people watching us. The government sticks us with horrendous tests that they themselves couldn’t pass yet if we fail then we must repeat that grade. I applaud that they expect the world from us, but in order to expect the world we must first receive it.
Being an adolescent today is both our gift and our curse. It is our curse because of expectations and ridicule. It is our gift is because we have so many more opportunities and options. There is so much more that we are capable besides what our IQ’s are. I do believe that in order to understand the young adults is to understand that patience is a virtue and to not assume that you know us because with all do respect only we understand us and no amount of essays or words could fully describe what our lives are like. In layman’s terms, could the adults of our era describe what their adolescence was like without being at a loss for words? No, I am afraid not, because being young and energetic is beyond words.
Untitled
Hunter Braithwaite, Age 18. Virginia Beach, Virginia
Very seldom does one recognize a life-altering event in the process. But when it happens, when eyes and ears stilt up and paste open, the person in question almost always feels fulfilled, in tune with time and the ultimate "flow of things." This moment came for me on a molded concrete bench in Bayville Park, Va., during the wet summer of 1998.
Earlier that morning, I had woken to my sister crying and the smell of scrambled eggs. So my parents were getting a divorce, worse things have happened. The initial shock was followed by an unhealthy level of apathy.
Yet, the morning's discovery had put me on guard. I was going to get an explanation here, sitting on this terribly cliché bench.
So as he mouthed it, between tears and coughs, "Hunter, I'm gay" I felt smarter. I had solved a puzzle. Mental church bells went off, causing mental flocks of pigeons to take flight, leaving behind a mental cobblestone square in some Communist Bloc city. It was never a surprise; I had mod-podged this puzzle weeks ago. It was I who browsed through the internet history. I had heard tears coming from behind locked doors in that Victorian house in Brooklyn, where we stayed for a year while my dad chased a job at the U.N. I was never a stupid child, and hours spent in front of 007 movies had only sharpened my detective skills.
So it was no surprise when he mouthed it, between tears and coughs, "Hunter, I'm gay." I was, however, increasingly taken aback as he continued, justified. See, my father's father had a small mind; and that, coupled with the Florida Panhandle, had roped up his true feelings with electrical cord and left them for dead in a marsh. And that's why he married and had 2 children only to decide, 11 years down the line, that this wasn't him. My dad is never on time, for anything; punctuality is not this man's forte.
It just struck me as a landmark moment, that's all. And not just that, but the effects have been lasting. Having a gay dad has forced me into looking past differences, and real differences at that, not just weight and skin complexion. My father's homosexuality has been my training wheels, conscience, even that wooden pole that keeps baby trees from growing crooked.
It's hard to preach about the evils of leading a gay life while your father has a rainbow decal on the back of his '99 Accord. It's hard to say that a school day or movie was gay. My father has inadvertently made me a better person; his lack of judgment has sharpened mine.
So I felt something click, sitting there on that bench, my feet sweaty from sockless sneakers. And as my father dried his eyes, brushed his khakis and asked how I felt about breakfast at Hardees, I distinctly remember feeling perfectly at ease. Something had opened up inside.
¿Porque periodista?
Lady Yineth Cáceres, 18 Años. Braselton, Georgia
Antes de iniciar mis pensamientos. Quisiera agradecer a Hispanic Link Journalism Foundation por esta maravillosa oportunidad que les ha dado a tantos jóvenes de conocer el mundo del periodismo. En realidad esta convención fue una de las experiencias que más me ha marcado como estudiante de periodismo ya que es muy diferente saber que hay periodistas que admiramos y que han logrado lo que nosotros queremos lograr, a en realidad llegar a conocerlos. También es importante que sean ellos los que nos animen a seguir adelante con nuestras metas y anhelos.
El periodismo ha sido una carrera que siempre me ha llamado la atención. Sin embargo al iniciar mi educación superior me registré como educadora de preescolar. Inicié esa profesión porque me gustan mucho los niños y porque, para ser honesta, tenía miedo a enfrentarme a una carera tan difícil como el periodismo. Pero llego el día en que me di cuenta que yo si tenía la capacidad de lograr esa carrera que tanto me gustaba y con la cual me iba sentir satisfecha toda mi vida. Me di cuenta que valía la pena esforzarme más y lograr cambiar muchas cosas que no me gustaban. También me di cuenta de que siendo periodista tendría muchas mas puertas abiertas al rededor del mundo. Fue ese día, cuando fui a los estudios de CNN en español y conocí a la presentadora de noticias Glenda Umaña, que me di cuenta lo que en realidad quería hacer el resto de mi vida. Antes de esa experiencia había visto hacer un reportaje en un evento en Colombia y quede con la espinita del periodismo, pero cuando en realidad me di cuenta de lo que quería hacer, fue estando en los estudios de CNN.
Desde ese día me tracé muchas metas. Una de ellas es ser una gran estudiante. En este momento lo he logrado, aunque no puedo cantar victoria ya que apenas llevo un año en la universidad. Otra de ellas es trabajar para la comunidad hispana, porque en realidad es muy triste que los hispanos por lo general no están bien informados y por eso mucha gente se aprovecha de nuestros padres o conocidos, simplemente por el hecho de que ellos no dominan el idioma o no tienen la información. Por ejemplo, una de las cosas que más me preocupa, es que la mayoría de los hispanos no saben como funciona la democracia, o que proponen los candidatos, ya que muchos de los ellos no pueden votar. Pero cada una de las cosas que pasen en este país nos afecta a cada una de nosotros y sobretodo a los inmigrantes, que a veces son vistos por otros como estorbo.
Por el momento, es muy poco lo que yo puedo hacer. En estos momentos voy a empezar a escribir para una revista latina en Georgia. También siempre trato de explicarle a los jóvenes que conozco sobre la importancia de educarse, no solamente para tener un vida económica mejor, sino para que ellos no sean engañados o manipulados, y para que ellos puedan tomar sus decisiones con un buen criterio. Sin embargo cuando me gradué como periodista, me gustaría trabajar para la televisión hispana, ya sea Univisión, Telemundo o CNN en español. Mi mayor interés es mejorar la vida de los hispanos por medio de los medios de comunicación, los cuales hoy en día influyen mucho en las personas.
De nuevo quisiera agradecerles por la oportunidad que les brindaron a estos estudiantes de conocer para poder decidir si ellos pueden asumir la responsabilidad de influenciar a la comunidad con los medios de comunicación. Espero que este tipo de eventos siga influenciando a muchas minorías para que haya más igualdad y oportunidades para todos en este país.
Untitled
Katherine Witt, Age 16. Brian’s Road, Maryland
In the beginning I was a bit apprehensive about participating in the creating future journalists program, it being put together by the Hispanic link journalism foundation. I was under the impression that I would be the only black person there, which always creates a problem for me. At my school I am often the only black person due to the challenge that the classes present, and the pressure to represent my whole race is on. I’m not like the appointed representative for black people everywhere, but for some odd reason I always feel like it’s my duty to assume that responsibility, to let everyone know that we are intelligent and just as good as they are. With all of this in mind it was a struggle for me to get on the King Street metro train, the thought of me once again being the black ambassador made me nauseous. But the prospect of me actually getting something out of the program pulled me on the train as if my sudden optimism had become its own gravity.
While on the metro I had hundreds of thoughts roaming through my brain. My step-father always said the only stupid question is the one not asked, but these questions in my head were worse than stupid. What if I don’t know what the speakers are talking about? What if they only speak Spanish? What if I offend them? Will they think I’m taking a spot from one of their youth? Are there going to be any hot guys there? All sorts of crazy questions were popping up in my head, discouraging me more and more from venturing into the Washington DC Convention Center.
So after forcing myself up that escalator and getting directions from the rude security guard, I finally was at registration in convention center. At which point I realized that I wouldn’t have to pose as the token black person because there were others and finally I was able to calm down a bit.
That evening all the future journalists attended the Unity opening ceremony and we got to see a plethora of cultures do their thing.
“Thing” being a dance or playing the drums or a chant or playing with glow in the dark hula hoops. We were granted the pleasure of seeing the presidents of each ethnic journalism association speak on how far we have come and how much farther we need to go.
Thursday was a bit dull in the beginning but then we were introduced to the print journalist’s panel. Each journalist had something to very profound and inspiring to say whether they said to get a mentor or to read all types of books or to simply read newspapers, everything that this wise group of talented journalists said was absorbed into my porous brain.
After the panel was done speaking, the future journalists had the opportunity to go and speak to some of the panelists in person. I spoke with Catalina Camia, the ex president of the Asian American Journalists Association and Gannet News service employee. I have always had a problem with catering to my audience because many times when I write the only audience I’m writing for are the simplistic cretins at my high school who don’t care about the school newspaper. My obsession is politics. I try to interview family and friends about specific political events and speeches so I can write articles that truly connect with people, but the questions are never answered because they have no clue of what I’m talking about. What Ms. Camia told me is to connect the subject with the audience, no matter how they may be. Now I am excited about this coming school year, I can’t wait to practice the advice given to me by the panelists.
Untitled
Jessica Almonte, Age 16. Silver Spring, Maryland.
It's not unusual to be quickly judged as soon as I step into my car and drive off into the busy streets of Silver Spring. It seems like the world has forgotten who they really are, or maybe simply have chosen to ignore their past completely. I see it as they just want to forget that they were once my age, sixteen and licensed, heading into an unknown world of knowledge. They want to stay in their adulthood and go along as they have for the past 20 some odd years.
Well, it's not my place to shake them out of their heart-wrenching narrow minds, but it is my place to at least attempt to show them, right? I do think so. You see, as simple as it may seem to be what most label a, 'young person', it is probably one of the hardest tasks in life. Remember it or not, I haven't lived that long, but these past 2 years have been the most difficult and yet the most cultivating nonetheless.
Being between the ages of fifteen and twenty-one seems to me like a life altering transformation that doesn't complete until you've accomplished something in life. Something so grand and yet so simple that no one understands your joy, but yourself. And that's more than enough. You see, being a 'young person' has its perks, of course. It also has its downsides, times when you just simply wish you were someone else, anyone else, anything else. Then, adults wonder what in the world is wrong with the 'young souls' today. Honestly, nothing. At least usually it's nothing, nothing but a simple cry for attention and acceptance. A cry of responsibility and life.
Selfish? Slightly, but an obligation as well. Adults who forget the age also forget what is pressed so much upon us daily. Distrust, disrespect, and the ability to say you're a failure and have done some permanent damage. As soon as you doubt a teenager, you've doubted them forever, and yes, we do remember things of that nature. As soon as you disrespect a teenager, it is engraved so deeply in our soul, it burns whenever you might come around the corner.
Why are we the way we are? That's a common question. Yet - What are we? We're you. Simple, but scary, it's true. We're you because you make us who we are. Maybe if adults remembered their high school years and dieing to go to that homecoming, then maybe they'll tap into who we are. Then, maybe - just maybe they'll understand us.
Quickly I'm thrown out of my state of daydreaming and back to reality where teenagers and adults don't mix all too well because adults choose to ignore their past. And once more we're in that civil war of Teen VS. Parent.
A Realization
Monica Barrera, Age 19. Wellington, Florida
There comes a day in every young person’s life when they realize they are truly following their heart and deepest desires. By following their heart, it is certain that they will receive the greatest satisfaction one could hope for. That day for me came when I attended the UNITY: Journalists of Color Convention. I discovered things about my dreams and about myself as well. This convention not only opened my heart, but also opened my mind to new thoughts about journalism.
I have always wanted to be a writer. It was not until high school that I realized I wanted to be a journalist. Some I shared the news to, warned me that in the beginning of their career, journalists do not make very much money. I thought about it, and began thinking of other jobs I might like that pay well. I thought to myself, “Well, doctors make a lot of money.” But I did not spend too much time imagining myself in scrubs. Two seconds later, I remembered I cannot stand needles and gag at the site of a wound. That was the end of me as a doctor. I then pictured myself as an engineer. Like doctors, they live well. However, that phase did not last long either. “Numbers and I do not mix,” I thought. If I hate mathematics, why would I even consider a job that is mathematics? This job also did not make any sense associated with me.
Journalism definitely makes me light up inside. To be present at the convention only made me glow. The opening ceremony on Thursday night filled me with exhilaration. I had never been around so many people at one time who share the same joy as I do. It was amazing and empowering to be in a huge ballroom surrounded by those who have achieved my goals. I could feel the overwhelming sense of excitement and passion that each journalist there was feeling. Everyone there was surely following their heart. I had no doubt in my mind, that I too, was doing the same.
At the end of the UNITY: Journalist of Color Convention, I discovered that the only thing that could really make me happy is following my heart. Money comes and goes, but the joy of following your dreams and achieving your goals stays forever. Nothing could possibly be better than that.
A Dying Soul
Angelica Gregory, Age 14. Washington, D.C.
I awaken to a pitch black room filled with my worthless articles that occupies precious space. “Another day of writing”, I say with a deep breath. I question my reason for life as I do every morning, unable to give an answer I slowly climb out of bed. But, this morning differed from others for I pondered upon that question longer than usual. After my morning shower I had one blueberry muffin and a small glass of orange juice. I entered my silver Mercedes and was off to the place where my happiness was stolen. (My job) It was a job many only dreamed of for it paid well and had wonderful benefits.
I was a journalist. At first it excited me for the opportunity to be where the action is and write about it. That created a sense of happiness I thought no one could take away. Until the negativity of the world got the best of me and I came to the realization I was living to die. Soon I created an image that the world was all bad and writing was our way to prove it true. I sat at my desk isolated from my fellow journalist. I had no interest with conversing with them about what made front page or who won the football game on Monday night.
It was a typical day at the office. Review stories, Write, lunch at the Zanzibar, proofread stories and submit to the editor. I returned to my car parked on the lower level of our garage. It was around 6:00pm. I then drove off nodding to the valet as if saying thanks for doing your job with a simple head motion. I began to turn on the radio until I realized how much that affected our society. It was another way of expressing the downturns of life through stupid beats that covered up the truth with how the producer would like our world to be. Therefore I sat in silence, anticipating when death would come.
I stopped at the mailbox to mail some bills that were overdue. It was then that my life changed. A man approached me from behind with a knife and quickly forced me into his car. There were two men in the back seat and a lady on the passenger side. I was put in the back seat where the males were able to do with me as they pleased. My soul was already in pain so they were only able to abuse my body. This is what I reminded myself as they undressed me. The man on the right side of me took out a knife and began to create his own art work. I was the canvas. They then threw me out of the car where a pedestrian found me and quickly called 911.
That’s all I remember. I woke up in a hospital with doctors surrounding my bed side. They began to tell me I had contracted HIV/ Aids from the assault. I then looked at my body and tried to scream but nothing appeared to come out. The doctors then confirmed what I had already new. I had lost my voice He had slashed deep within my throat several times.
At that moment my life passed before my eyes and I began to treasure writing more and more. I learned sign language but writing was my personal way of communicating. I began to appreciate my job let alone my life. Everyday I live it as an opportunity to tell my story. For it’s my duty to take slices of life and put them on the doorsteps of many. Hoping to inform, maybe even help them with their problems.
So when I awaken to a pitch black room, it’s brought to life by a silent touch That’s marked by agony, hope, sadness, betrayal, disappointment, love, hate, life, and death. This is my writing! It flutters pulses when read as a prized possession that holds not only the facts but my opinion that no one can take away. It’s my voice being put to a soft melody as if preparing a place on a fluffy cumulous cloud in the sky where my words could not only be seen but heard as well.
I realize many people start their day with orange juice and the product we put together. Why not put forth the best of me? I have no regrets or apologies for what is written because the Constitution backs up our free will of speech. And in this I find the greatest satisfaction. My writing! I realize the world is abetter place even with some dark shadows.
Creando un mundo mejor
Elizabeth Chávez, Age 16. Silver Spring, Maryland
Como quisiera ver un mundo mejor, un mundo lleno de alegría, en donde todos podamos vivir en unión y paz. Poder escuchar el cantar del viento, y ver cada mañana el sol radiante, un mundo en el que los animales sean libres, un mundo libre de contaminación, en el que pueda respirar el aire limpio, de un cielo azul, un mundo libre de todos estos males que están destruyendo nuestro mundo hoy en día. ¿Pero algún día podré? ¿Podré realmente ver algún día un mundo mejor?
Quisiera algún día poder ver un mundo unido, en el que se rompan las barreras de diferencias, en el que todos sean tratados por igual. Un mundo en el que todos ayudaremos a los más necesitados, en el que dejaremos de ser tan ambiciosos por las riquezas materiales, y pensaremos en las verdaderas riquezas, las riquezas espirituales, la dicha de poder amar. Si tan sólo pudiéramos cambiar odios y rencores, si tan solo reinara el amor, este mundo sería mejor.
Como quisiera ver un mundo en paz, ¿por qué la Guerra? ¿Por qué tanto odio? ¿Por qué pelear? Son preguntas que muchas veces no tienen respuesta, el por que de una Guerra que sólo trae sufrimiento, sangre que corre, gente que muere, hombres que matan a otros por luchar por el orgullo de su patria, ese orgullo por probar de ser mejores. ¿Por qué no borramos de nuestros ojos estas fronteras entre naciones? ¿Por qué no vivir en paz?, todos tenemos derecho a la vida, paremos esto, hagamos un mundo mejor.
Como podemos decir que queremos un mundo mejor, si cada día lo estamos destruyendo con tanta contaminación, si día a día las naciones prenden bombas, y contaminan el ambiente con esos gases químicos que solo causan enfermedades y muerte a temprana edad. Si tan solo la gente dejara de tirar desperdicios en las calles, si dejara de contaminar con el humo de los carros, o el humo del cigarro, o si dejaran de usar productos que destruyeran la capa de ozono. Este mundo sería mejor se la gente tomara conciencia acerca del daño que hace y dejará de hacerlo.
Como quisiera poder ver un mundo seguro, un mundo sin violencia, en el que pueda caminar libremente, en el que el que no existiera la violencia familiar. Como podemos querer un mundo mejor si cada día se destruyen familias, si cada día se destruye la base de la sociedad, o cada día gente es secuestrada o asesinada, si tan sólo se pudiera crear un ambiente de amor y seguridad, en donde la familia viva unida y las calles sólo sean parte de recuerdos gratos, este mundo sería mejor.
Quisiera abrir los ojos y ver la maravillosa naturaleza que nos rodea, ver las flores florecer, a los animales ser libres, a estos seres vivos a los que muchas veces no son considerados como tales. Cada día que pasa la gente caza a los animales excesivamente provocando con esto su extinsión, ¿Por qué no los dejamos vivir? ¿Por qué somos tan egoístas de cazarlos para uso propio? ¿Por qué no dejamos de arrancar las plantas o talar los árboles?, a caso no nos damos cuenta de que ellas nos dan el aire que respiramos y que sin ellos no podríamos vivir, debemos de parar, debemos de cambiar.
¿Y nosotros que vamos a hacer por este mundo, por este mundo que lucha y sangra por nosotros? ¿y nosotros que vamos a darle a este mundo que arde en esta realidad que quema, que vamos a hacer por él, acaso nos vamos a quedar mirando sin hacer nada como muere?
Todos unidos podremos, dame tu mano, abre tu corazón, saquemos juntos fuerzas, construyamos un mañana mejor, no nos dejemos vencer, este mundo es de todos, todos lo sacaremos adelante, destruyamos fronteras, trabajemos todos juntos, descubramos el cielo detrás de las nubes, luchemos por nuestro mundo, un mundo herido que necesita nuestro valor. ¡Es tiempo de cambiar este mundo, juntos lo haremos, juntos podremos!
Un Mañana Mejor
Lizset Chávez, Age 16. Silver Spring, Maryland
Caminando por el mundo, veo la vida en un segundo, confundida veo la vida que va desentendida, veo como la gente destruye el mundo, como nos dedicamos a cubrir el mundo de dolor, veo que el mundo está lleno de engaño y corrupción, o que miles de niños solo se alimentan con un frijol y pienso el racismo tiene que acabar, son detalles de la vida que deben de cambiar.
Voy viajando por el mundo, escucho a la gente hablar, tantos idiomas, tantas aduanas, tantas fronteras, tantos muros entre miradas no nos dejan ver nada, tantas ruinas de sueños caídos y desiertos de recuerdos perdidos, el cielo nublado de tantas peleas, la sangre regada de tantas violencias, tantos sueños truncados por pesadillas y digo cuanto tiempo más vamos a esperar.
Pero la solución está en tus manos, en las mías, en las nuestras, démonos las manos y juntos demos luz a esta oscuridad, dejemos el sufrimiento atrás, descubramos el camino del amor, creemos un lenguaje nuevo, frases sinceras que salgan del corazón, demos color a las veredas que se oscurecieron del dolor, vencemos a las tormentas que nos quieran abatir.
Miro al del lado y digo que regalo tan preciado, las palomas blancas vuelan a mi alrededor, el sol brilla en su esplendor, miro al mismo cielo y digo ya no voy a buscar este es el lugar que yo soñé, el viaje no tenía sentido, no todo estaba perdido, yo tenía razón, había una solución.
Ahora está lleno de color, de amor, ya no me preocupo al caminar, ahora es un mundo de paz, ahora podemos disfrutar la vida mucho más, con el amor real, siempre natural, lleno de libertad, lleno de dar, sin límites de felicidad, con una sorpresa por encontrar, reír, cantar, dar sin esperar, esa es la realidad.
Quiero saber lo que los demás no saben, quiero llegar más allá, salgo de casa, busco algo nuevo, mantengo la esperanza de algún día ser capaz y poder encontrar la salvación de la humanidad.
Salgo a la calle y veo en mi caminar, rastreando sueños y promesas que para ganar la felicidad no basta suerte, entonces cruzo las fronteras del silencio, y proclamo libertad aquella paloma blanca que llevo dentro y hago despertar.
Busco una tierra nueva entre escombros, encuentro un ramo de emociones junto a la brisa del mar, y con un sobre de sueños me echo a volar, a soñar.
Te invito a que vengas conmigo solo déjate llevar, deja lo malo de lado porque te pesa para volar, borra todas tus pesadillas, cura tus viejas heridas y no des marcha atrás.
La mejor vida estaba por llegar, las familias no pelearían más. La Paz traería libertad, la felicidad traería igualdad, y la unión nos llenaría de hermandad, solo deja descubrir.
Dibujando veo el futuro, entusiasta me aventuro a la imaginación, este mundo sin fronteras, hora de paz, llena de una explosión de imaginación, pensando con el corazón que es un sueño que no quiero despertar pero a quien quiero engañar lo único en este mundo se llama esperar.
