Dear Teenage Self
There are many things I wish to tell you. You need to ask for help it’s not a sign of weakness or failure. Everyone needs it now and then. My young self I know you need it. You were never a burden you are loved. But you have to start loving yourself by accepting your complexion you are a black woman who needs to own it and your hair may be a pain but it is yours. Learn to work with it you will learn to love it. Don’t let people convince you any differently about Who You Are. Deep down you truly know don’t shy away from it. Of course, it is scary and unsure but you need to be bold.
Friends will come and go some friends become more and that will break your heart but it will mend again. Stay true. Let love in even if it doesn’t last those feelings are something worthy of experiencing. You go through trials with your friend but in the end, it will make you both strong and set healthy boundaries. You also be gifted a friend who will hold you down when you need the most. These two hold a significant value in your heart don’t be afraid to tell people you love them. Allow them in you won’t scare them away.
You hold so much within gotta learn to let it out. Regrets have been had that is okay hold on to those. But move forward and try not to have much more in your life.
I need you to be strong. I need you to be better at procrastinating. Follow your gut and that damn heart those two come hand in hand.
A couple of reminders you are a black beautiful woman. Dress however you see
fit. Date who you wish to date whether man or woman. Stand strong in your convictions always be you.

Mija, we’ve always known that something wasn’t right with the world, but before you shave your head and draw on your brows, find solace in your beautiful, brown skin. I know that when you walk down the street it’s with a scathing hardness you wear like a badge of honor. I know that your scowl is self preservation so people know not to fuck with you, but Mija, they always will. Before you make plans to fight the homegirl that took one too many cigarettes from your pack, think about why you smoke in the first place. We know it’s to help calm the rage inside you but where is it directed at this point in time? Is nicotine your savior because you can’t stand listening to our anti-feminist dad spew religious nonsense at you for being ‘gay like your mom’, like he isn’t the reason we live on the streets when it’s not his weekend? Maybe it’s for our manipulative Mother, promising time and time again a stable place to live while she caters to the whim of a partner that doesn’t show up for her? Or is it because it’s the one thing you have in common with mom’s abusive girlfriend to keep calm before the domestic storm? Could it just be that you like your weed and Adderall to have a companion, because you know how loneliness cascades?

Mija, make sure you give our little sister a kiss before you sneak out to hustle and sling at the punk show. Promise her you’ll take her to the library to get her next meal. Did you ever stop to think it strange how drugs are more easily available than food, to people like us? How even the public library that offers free meals to youth on weekends, never once drew you in to feed you knowledge? But there is kindness in the eyes of those that see you as more than a dirty southside kid; The Paleta man that gives you an ice cream, and sometimes a buck or two, or your art teacher that believes your talent for drawing will help you heal. Always be grateful and give to others in any way you can, because if you deserve liberation, so do they.

Mija, when you grow, you will heal, so hold on. Keep drawing pretty pictures, laugh boisterously, listen to Sinéad and Fiona and cry, move across the country, move across the country AGAIN, make countless mistakes, always be weary of who you buy drugs from, get sober, HEAL. And above all, continue to not listen to adults because they don’t know shit.
Mi Hija,
I know,
I know,
I know,
how much you hurt.
I know,
I know,
I know,
what causes your pain.
I know,
I absolutely fucking know,
Because you are my daughter
and I am yours.

Dear inner teenager—writer of break-up letters, potbelly pig cuddler, improv star, belter of Disney princess songs, and mermaid princess,

Would you believe it? At age 23, it is your well of resilience, courage, and drive that ignites a fire within me.

I look at old photographs and see our big, brown, otherworldly eyes. Over the years, the light in them has flickered, but never dimmed, despite my fear of that happening.

I flip through your journals and never fail to find reflections and insights you couldn’t have known then, that I would need now. You are wiser than I remember feeling at that time.

Rather than a sweet sixteen party, you adventure to Mexico with Mom. And when prom arrives, you bring your younger sister as your date, even though you have a boyfriend. You stand up and speak up for yourself when your “friends” ignore you at lunch. You wear the same dress from elementary and middle school graduations to your high school one. You are a pagan witch in a Catholic household, and the same altar you owned then, I still use now.

I can always count on you to serve as a bridge between my inner child and me, preserving her wisdom and reminding me to honor her needs. Altogether, we are an old soul moving from forgetfulness to remembrance—and that is no easy feat. Mischievous, but not malevolent, you show up as your whole self even when it comes at a cost, but you still feel the weight of grief that comes with each loss.

So often, you find yourself in scenarios where you need to make the same choice—repress or express. While neither option is free from consequence, each time you choose the latter, you’re happier than when you don’t. Every time you express your truth in the moment, you do so for you, but you also do it for the parts of us who, in our past moments, didn’t know how to.

You, wild and whimsical one, are the uncensored embodiment of our imagination. It’s no wonder Theatre and English are your favorite subjects.

But somewhere inside, you still believe the lie that you’re only loved when you’re not you. You’re deeply hurt by words spoken by those who don’t hold themselves to the same level of integrity as you.

I want you to know that a soul family awaits you in Florida, including a father who sees and cherishes every part of us, a sister who walks a spiritual path parallel to ours, and of course, goat kids. Family will come to mean something much different from what it does now, and though feelings of guilt and grief may come with the best of it, I need you to know that you are deserving and capable of being met and loved at the same depths that you exist in.

But know this too, you cannot change someone to be what they are not, no matter how much they or you may want it.

Look at us, for instance. Over the years, we have changed, yet at our core, we remain the same.

I still love everything you love—and more.

I know why you are afraid of losing all of the colors of you. But I promise to preserve them. You can revel in excitement at the many new shades you have yet to meet, that make up all that I am.

The light at the end of the tunnel is actually a reflection in the mirror at the far end of the cave. When you walk through the darkness, it is your light that guides you through. The light at the end of the tunnel is you.

So if you make your way into something, know you can always find a way out.

Only those who fear the responsibility that comes with wielding their power will attempt to dissuade you from accessing yours. It is only you who can choose to give your power away. No one else can take it from you.

What happens in life will happen. What you let it mean in the big picture of things and within your own heart is up to you. And if you do happen to give away your power, it’s up to you to take it back. No one is going to give it to you.

You—the underdog who rises, the quiet one who transforms on stage—are never defined by your best step, nor your worst misstep on the path of stepping stones into the unknown. Your imagination is complementary to your intellect, and you’ll need both to help you create something truly magical. So hold onto your belief in magic, even as others outgrow your make-believe games, and you will see when you do, our world never ceases to sparkle.

Your wise, yet carefree existence tends to trigger people who perceive this world as black or white, versus multi-color and multi-shade. Despite your best efforts, some people are just not ready to leave their disempowered states.

When you focus on empowering yourself, people will want to start recruiting you to fight their wars. But you must remember—you are a manifestor. You are here to initiate, inspire, and impact—just by being and doing you.

You help me remember that we are big and that we are here to do big things, which means we need to learn how to take up space for ourselves, in addition to holding space for others. Promise to help me master this dance time and time again, so we can always feel free to write, speak, and sing to our heart’s content.

Developing discernment will help us combat our tendency toward confusion. Differentiating our intrinsic worth from cross-contaminated opinions that surround us is a lesson to be learned, and ever-relearned. Through it all, your light reflects truth in all directions—a rainbow of authenticity that shines in the face of adversity.

Every ounce of resonance, love, and empowerment I feel now is a testament to you. Your wide range and depth of emotions contain messages that are essential to our development. Thank you for letting me know what we need, what we’ll refuse to accept, and what is (or isn’t) worth fighting for.

Most of all, thank you for reminding me to not take life so seriously, to be willing to step out of my comfort zone, and to always make fun a priority.

Your memory is a reminder that my greatest gifts have always been a part of me.

With unconditional love and gratitude,
Your older self