It has been since March since I last worked on a personal project.
I’ve been writing and publishing daily, working two jobs, having conversations with old friends and new friends about the trajectory of my life, and quietly planning what could become my life’s work.
In the past weeks, I rediscovered my dream. Or rather, I rewrote my dream.
Having done so has helped me decide what kind of projects I would like to take on.
Because moving forward, I’ll be in positions where a project sounds really desirable and perhaps profitable, but if it doesn’t bring me closer to what I’d like to realize, then it wouldn’t be worth my limited time.
A series of events have occurred in my life since I last published a post here.
Between my unwavering curiosity, discussions with family and friends, an unexpected work-related incident, and the growing concerns of people I grew up with in relation to troubling nationwide events, I’ve found myself deep in thought.
And the combination of it all has pushed me to start my next project:
A storytelling project that captures the lived experiences of Hispanic immigrants in Northwest Arkansas.
It began with three burning questions:
What was it really like for people like my parents to leave everything behind and start over in a new country?
What memories, fears, and hopes were hidden in their journey to the Promised Land?
And how badly were the circumstances in their home country that they risked everything for something not even guaranteed?
The goal of this project is to answer these questions and then some.
But I can’t keep these stories to myself. Not when they reveal so much about who we are as a community. The people you pass at the grocery store, the ones who clean our houses, mow our grass, build our homes, make the food we eat at events and restaurants, whose kids play alongside yours—they have stories that will change how you see your neighbors.
This isn’t just about understanding them. It’s about understanding us.
This project will remove the language barrier and bring about a culture of understanding within our community.
I gave a short announcement after Mass at my local church to see if there would be any volunteers courageous enough to share their stories with me, and six brave souls stepped up to talk to me.
I’ll be making similar announcements in other cities in Northwest Arkansas to collect as many stories as possible.
In the coming weeks, I will sit down and listen to Hispanic immigrants, write and translate their stories into English, and publish them for our community to read and understand.
You can expect the first written story to be published here and on other platforms by mid-July, and I will publish one story every Friday morning for at least twelve weeks.
I’m not a journalist or an activist by any means—I attended business school, and this entire process is new to me—but my curiosity knows no boundaries.
Until then, I ask that you continue the conversations that will build a culture of understanding for Northwest Arkansas. I strongly believe that this is the first step to getting anything done.