Research & Writing

Narratives for I Am An Immigrant Campaign (IAAI)

As the Storyteller in Residence at FWD.us, I managed the social media for the IAAI campaign: Facebook, Instagram and Twitter with a combined audience of over 200,000. In addition to introducing new campaign tactics like the use of Giphy, Instagram Reels and Facebook frames, I put together narratives to celebrate immigrants. In this role, I crafted over 45 narratives from conception to completion, including narrative features of high-profile celebrities.

To read more about the social media strategy I created and executed for the campaign, check out the Graphic Design page.

“Money Court” Host brings decades of law experience to TVs across America

Former Miami Judge Ada Pozo is a powerful Latina, fierce immigration attorney, and current co-host of Kevin O’Leary’s CNBC show, “Money Court.”

On the show, Ada advises people dealing with financial disputes— some worth millions of dollars. “Not only are we helping them, I think we get a chance to educate the public,” she said.

Ada comes from a long line of public servants in Cuba. As an attorney, media personality, and former judge, she’s supported and represented countless individuals.

“My parents came in 1959. They were refugees from Cuba. They came fleeing the Castro dictatorship like so many others. My grandfather was actually the mayor of Havana when Castro took over. And my father was the country's equivalent of the surgeon general. He was a doctor at the top of his game and he had to pick up and come here with nothing — just the shirt on his back, basically. He barely spoke English.”

Ada’s dad delivered dry cleaning by day and learned English at night. He went to the University of Miami and became a doctor in the U.S. Her mom was an actress in Cuba, and seamstress in the U.S. They were able to put Ada and her sister through college for their undergraduate and law degrees.

“My father passed away 15 years ago, but he did get to see me become a judge. He put my judicial robe on me at my investiture and it was pretty special,” she said.

Ada was a judge for Miami-Dade County, but left the bench to return to litigation. She specializes in immigration law, and her reasons for doing so are clear: “I fell in love with being able to help clients that I empathize so much with. So many of my clients reminded me of my own parents that were here. Not because they wanted to feed off the system or commit crimes, but because they had to flee their homes… For many it’s a matter of life and death.”

Ada continues to fight for individuals as an immigration attorney, and is helping Americans across the nation understand the law and how to better protect themselves on CNBC’s “Money Court.”

Read her full profile at the link in bio + watch “Money Court” on @CNBC! #LatinxHispanicHeritageMonth#CelebrateImmigrants

 

TikToker Leo Gonzalez knows there are ‘mini-Leos’ watching

“After I did a podcast with George Lopez, I drove away to a gas station and I just sat there. I was like, ‘Did I just record a podcast with George Lopez?’ That moment was pretty surreal.”

TikToker Leo Gonzalez (@leogonzall) still gets nervous when he meets his favorite stars. He’s got over 1 million million followers on TikTok — which is something the Mexican American creator said he never planned for. His shot to stardom was made possible with courage, consistency, and other creators of color paving the way. His story proves that immigrants are not only captivating creators — they’re also a hugely valuable part of our nation.

“That podcast with George Lopez made me feel like something’s working… And my life has changed so much. My dad is from Guanajuato, [Mexico], and my mom's family is from Michoacan. I’m from Hanford, in Central California. I'm an only child.”

Leo makes TikToks impersonating people in everyday situations, like a grocery store employee showing where an item is. His approach to lighthearted comedy has amassed over 41 million likes on his TikTok profile.

“It’s really exciting because it brings a seat to this table on TikTok. Part of this is recognizing that I am brown and there are little kids — little Leos — watching. I think that it's important that we continue to have brown people at this table, which is what brought me to TikTok; like AdamRayOkay and others. I think about that a lot.”

Leo has a word of advice for immigrants: “There is nothing wrong with us. I don’t know when this idea came about that people are in charge of jurisdictions, borders, other people,” he said. “Nobody is illegal and nobody has ever been illegal.”

#LatinxHispanicHeritageMonth #LHHM #CelebrateImmigrants #IAmAnImmigrant

 

Chef Byron centers Costa Rican Cuisine and ascends to the top

Long before Chef Byron Gomez was a contestant on Bravo’s Top Chef and a sous chef at the 2017 World’s Best Restaurant, he was a grill cook. Undocumented and in his teens, Byron had a confrontation that he says he’ll never forget.

One co-worker began arguing with Byron in the kitchen. “He kind of had it out for me just because he saw me coming up the ranks,” he said.

As they passed by each other, the coworker dropped a pan down that splashed Byron with steak blood. Then, the coworker kicked the metal pan at Byron.

“A hotel pan has very sharp, thin edges, and that ended up cutting my leg,” he said.

As Byron bled, his coworker said, “You think you can amount to something? You’re an immigrant. You will never be past a line cook.”

“I said, ‘You know what? I am going to prove this guy wrong.’”

Byron used the experience as motivation: to reach the highest levels as a chef, and to show people what immigrants and people from Costa Rica are about. As a DACA recipient, Byron is a shining example of immigrants adding immeasurable value to our country.

He’s worked at 1-star, 2-star, and 3-star Michelin restaurants, and he represented his home country of Costa Rica on Bravo’s Top Chef Season 18.

“I always wanted to better myself. Especially knowing that my parents gave up so much to come to a new country,” Byron said, “I was 32 years old when I did [Top Chef]. And society paints this picture that by that age, you're supposed to have your [stuff] together… but the thing I struggled with the most was thinking, ‘Who am I?’”

“How Costa Rican am I? Maybe not enough for some people. But how American am I? Maybe not enough either. But that never stopped me,” he said.

“I get calls from people in Costa Rica saying congratulations, and people telling me my parents should feel very proud. And that was part of the plan –– For my parents to feel like they’ve made the sacrifice for their children and we’ve made them proud.”

Read his full profile via link in bio! #CelebrateImmigrants #LatinxHispanicHeritageMonth

 

Kalin: Celebrating my ancestors through art

“Being a Black creator makes me feel like I have super powers. I can turn nothing into something. I have the opportunity to do things in life with my passions that my grandparents and great grandparents were not able to. I think this is why I try not to take anything for granted. As a Black woman it is very easy to be looked over in the art field. I feel like I’ve experienced unequal pay at every day job I’ve ever had. With how strong, talented, and skilled Black women are it is a shame that we are still not valued as we should be.

Sometimes we forget how great we are and it’s beautiful to have people around you that make sure you don’t forget. My mom is my biggest supporter. She shows up to everything. She sends me text ‘essays’ every week of how proud of me she is. I would have none of this without her. I want this so that other Black women, my nieces, and my nephew know that they can be successful in following their dreams.

I am proud of myself — as a whole. Beating depression and anxiety while trying to be a great artist and a good person. Sometimes we feel bad giving ourselves credit but I’m proud of myself before anything else. I made it through a lot and I’m still going. I hope to one day own my own gallery, I hope to be in prestigious museums and to show my work around the world.”

–Kalin Renée Devone, @kalin_renee, on art and identity for August 3, Black Women’s Equal Pay Day.

📸 by @dionnabrightphotography

#BlackWomensEqualPayDay #EqualPayDay #BlackArt #BlackArtists #Resilience

 

the journey of A beloved bay area soccer Coach

Meet Yefri, a soccer coach and student from El Salvador. Behind his constant smile is a story of sacrifice, separation, and resilience to be with family. He recounts the first time he saw his mom in 10 years, when he was 13 at a US migrant detention center:

“When I saw my mom, we were in this room where they're doing paperwork and giving us instructions.

And I hear the door open and I look up, and I'm telling you — my mom left when I was three. I didn’t really know what she looked like. We had a computer at home and we did some Skype. But very little and with the pixels, the images weren’t great.”

Yefri was raised by his grandmother in El Salvador. His mom left for the US to work and provide for her children. But once Yefri received threats from gangs at home, he left to live with her in the US.

“The moment she walked in, I said, ‘That's my mom,’ in my head. And I started crying and I ran to her and I just hugged her. It was one of the most happiest moments of my life, because I was literally in a really dark place, locked up for three months in the middle of nowhere.”

Yefri made the trip from El Salvador to the US with his sister. When they reached the border, his sister was arrested. Instead of continuing on without her, he went back for her.

“I was running and there's police chasing us. And then I see my sister, she gets caught. So I stopped running. I turned myself in. I was like, ‘I'm not ditching my sister.’”

They spent three months in a detention center, where Yefri finally saw his mom after weeks of interrogation:

“I knew the only reason I came was to be with my mom. So when I saw her and I was able to hug her, I really felt safe. Before that, I felt like a lost puppy on the street at night — a horrible night and it's raining. That's how I felt every day. So when I saw my mom, it’s like the rain stopped, and the sun was shining.”

Now, Yefri is a full-time college student and soccer coach. He lives with his family in the Bay Area, and started coaching by volunteering at his little brother’s practices. Parents saw him and wanted him to coach their kids. His story is one of true #ImmigrantResilience.

#CelebrateImmigrants #ImmigrantHeritageMonth

 

Scrambling During COVID: One Nurses’ story

“When I can give a patient a bath, it is kind of my favorite thing to do. Most of my patients are older, and you really get to see their vulnerable side. They tell you about their grandkids, what they went through in life, and the hardships they experienced.

It's kind of a respect thing that I’m able to give back to that community and tell them that they're so important. Because sometimes when people get older, they might not have much anymore; they might not have their family around.”

Cinthya is a cardiac nurse who immigrated from Mexico at 3 years old. She works in Nashville, Tennessee, where she has been taking care of patients throughout the pandemic.

“We were working really short-staffed at some point. Patients were getting sicker. Our coworkers were getting sick. There were days when we were scrambling to just have enough staff to take care of the patients. It's been hard seeing our patients suffer too because their families can't be there.”

Cinthya and her coworkers would send lunches to the nurses in the Covid-19 unit as a way to show gratitude. She’s also grateful for her family, to whom she says she owes it all.

“My family has worked so hard. They were having to pay almost like a second mortgage when it came to paying for school for me because we couldn’t get any sort of financial aid. I was also working to help pay. There were points where we fought. It wasn't going to happen. Tuition went up and we were not able to make ends meet, but we somehow did.

I want to remind people that their dreams can become reality, despite the odds being against us, with no papers, no financial aid, and, you know, people just being rude. Just remember it's for you and for your family.”

#InternationalNursesDay #CelebrateImmigrants 🇲🇽🩺

 

Art in the kitchen: Raghav honors his mothers cooking

“I always go back to the thought of what will life be like when I don't have my parents anymore? And what will I wish that I did with them? Or what will I wish that I [had] asked them?

One of the main things is, of course, spending time with them — but another is learning to make the things that my mom makes and that I love eating. And one of my workarounds is to shoot it, so I could have video footage that'll show her cooking these things. So it's like a time capsule, but I'm also learning to make these dishes.”

Raghav is a filmmaker from Tamilnadu, India who immigrated to the East Coast when he was four. At school, kids would make fun of his Indian vegetarian lunches. Now, Raghav takes pride in his mother’s cooking.

“The world doesn't really know enough about South Indian food because, at least here, the mainstream is North Indian food. I grew up having dosas for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. They’re like savory crepes, and we would have it with chili powder and oil or yogurt or a mix of both; or sometimes you'd make a lentil stew called Sambar, or have a kind of chutney, like onion, tomato or coconut chutney.”

Raghav honors his mother’s cooking in his five-part video series, “In Amma’s Hands”:

“As an Indian American, I really want to make content that is reflective of who I am as a person. It's a very nuanced place to be in as an immigrant in America, where you have two different sides to represent and share. I would love to make content that highlights where I come from, but also it's representative of people that are in the diaspora, in my community.

And this was something that I could share with my family back in India and they could see my work in their language… I could share it with my friends in America with subtitles and they can see my content and my culture.”

#ImmigrantHeritageMonth #CelebrateImmigrants❤🎉

 

“I’m a Black Muslim immigrant. These are three things you’re not supposed to be here in this country.”

Those are the words of Grammy-winning recording artist Caliph @caliphgk. Born in Senegal, Caliph released his newest album Immigrant of the Year on May 21. He went from losing his job because of DACA processing delays to recording a Grammy-winning album. His newest album embodies his journey and his message: mental health is crucial, especially for immigrants.

“This is about the trauma we go through as immigrants and having to act like everything's okay,” he said. What matters to him is “if this album can make [a] younger version of me or anyone going through mental health issues know that they can push through whatever they’re going through.”

Read the full story- Link in bio!

 

From Shame to Pride: maria’s Relationship with Spanish

“I had a phase in my life where I was becoming ashamed of who I was for speaking Spanish because at my new school in San Antonio, you weren't able to speak Spanish— even within your own people. So I tried to hide that identity even though that's all I spoke at home. I started to erase my own accent. It wasn't until high school that I started to reclaim that identity because I wanted to further my education.”

Maria received DACA and began to embrace her identity. Now, she teaches in Texas and she’s unafraid to speak up.

“Some people don't understand the fear that one lives through driving without a driver's license because you can’t get one. When you see police lights, you're just shaking because you never know. When I got DACA, I started to just speak out. Whenever there was an opportunity, whether it was media, a newspaper article or anything, I would just speak out, speak out, speak out.”

At school, Maria encourages her students to be themselves authentically.

“Teaching allows me to transform other lives and make sure that [my students] are proud of where they come from, and that they don’t lose family traditions. When we go to Americanize ourselves we kind of erase who we are to be someone we're not. So them just reclaiming that lost pride is important to me.

I'm teaching sixth grade and even with COVID, students make my life and job easier. I know them very well. I had a majority of this group as first graders and third graders. So seeing them go from six and seven-years-olds learning to write their names to now as 11 and 12-year-olds has been very beautiful. And with them now, sometimes I'm like, ‘Man, where was your thinking when I was your age?’ Because children nowadays keep me awake.”

#TeacherAppreciation

 

Reflecting on A mother’s HOMEMADE mealS in college

Meet Katie, a first-generation college graduate from UCLA whose parents both immigrated from different countries.

“For 20 plus years, my mom would wake up at 2am to go to work every day. Despite that, she would still make time to video chat with me before she slept at least 5 times a week to make sure I was okay. She would also deliver groceries to my apartment biweekly because I would miss eating her home-cooked Chinese food, specifically Hong Kong food.

My mom is Chinese and was born and raised in the Southern region of Vietnam. She witnessed the Vietnam War. My mom immigrated to America with her family as a Vietnam War refugee. My dad was born and raised in Hong Kong. He started working when he was in elementary school to support his family. My dad had the opportunity to immigrate to America because his job was expanding to San Jose, CA.

On all my diplomas, my full name is Katie Hoi-kee Chan. I am proud of my middle name because it is my Chinese name in Chinese Cantonese dialect pronunciation. My middle name is a representation of my immigrant parents who faced many challenges and adversities to build a better life here in the U.S. My educational and life successes were all achievable because of my parents.”

#CelebrateImmigrants #IAmAnImmigrant #IStandWithImmigrants #AAPIMonth @ucla

 

Ravi’s story: Disconnecting to reconnect with roots

“I thought my mom might have had cancer. She wasn’t diagnosed yet. So I made a promise at the end of 2012 that if my mom was alright, that I would change my lifestyle,” Ravi said.

The year 2013 was Ravi’s turning point. He had recently lost his father and best friend in back-to-back years, and his mom had gotten sick.

“For my own wellbeing and my family — especially my children — it was a conscious choice to put effort into getting in touch with my roots instead of making the unconscious choices I made that created chaos,” he said.

After his mom’s health improved, Ravi travelled from his hometown of Queens, New York, to California to visit a friend who was eating vegan and practicing yoga. That trip marked Ravi’s turning point: from a detached father to devoted community member, parent, and founder of a cultural collective called @solwave.collective. Ravi’s story of turning his life around by connecting with culture proves that if one is feeling lost, one can look to where they came from for the strength to move forward.

“Eating plant-based vegan food put me on another vibration where I started getting in touch with my roots. My father was from India and my mom was from the Philippines. So the diet was more aligned, and I started getting into yoga — it was the beginning of getting reconnected,” Ravi said.

Read Ravi’s story of turning his life around by connecting himself and his kids to their cultural roots by tapping the link in bio.

In collaboration with 📸 by @SteveSweatpants
#IStandWithImmigrants #CelebrateImmigrants

 

Denise is empowering immigrant students just as she was

“I remember being at the UCLA immigrant rights conference with, now, one of my closest friends. I remember telling her that I was there for a friend, but really I was there for myself. And she said the same thing: ‘Oh, I’m here for my friend too.’ But over the course of the day, we both realized that we were there because we were both undocumented. That's how our friendship was formed. And that was the conference that changed my life.”

Denise is a DACA recipient, but when she attended that conference, there was no such thing as DACA. Now, she’s teaching and pursuing a PhD in educational leadership to empower her students, just as she was.

“That conference changed my outlook. I realized we can do so much together. Alone, we can only go so far, but together, we can push for legislation. We can change minds. We can educate.

I'm very lucky to be at a school where my school leader is supportive of my advocacy efforts. I get to share my story with the students so anytime they want to talk about this specific issue in their life, they know they can come to me.

I remember one of my students — his dad was a street vendor selling tacos. My student was a citizen, but I knew that his dad was undocumented. The dad would come to my classroom and bring me tacos every student-led conference, because he had never graduated. He didn't even finish the third grade back in Mexico.

This year, the dad actually contracted COVID-19 and got sick and passed away. I remember my student sharing that with me and I was heartbroken. Couldn't believe it. I know that because of his vocation, he was unprotected, you know? He didn’t have a lot of choice in terms of employment and that's how he made a living for his family. It breaks my heart. But at the same time, I know that this is a reality for many of the students I work with.

That student is very special to me. His dad was very special to me. And even though he has passed away, I still connect with my student. It's not just one year and you're gone. That student will now be a part of my life, as I'm sure that I will be part of his.”

#CelebrateImmigrants#DACA

Also featured on @TeachForAmerica

 
Dear-Study-Abroad-Kid-4-1200x900.jpg

Dear future study abroad kid

A little insight into the good, the bad and the ugly of a study abroad experience

By Elena Mateus
UC Berkeley studying in Madrid, Spain

First things first. Congratulations on doing what you’re doing. During my orientation, the program director made us give ourselves a round of applause. It felt weird and awkward, but she had a point. Not only is it a lot to get your visa, finances, and life ready to live in a new country, but also you’re about to endure a lot. Both good and bad. And it’s not going to be pretty all the time, and it’s not going to be as perfect as your future Instagram posts will make it seem. But you’ll experience things, people, and places that you couldn’t even fathom at the start. It will all be well worth it. You’ll thank yourself and, more so, you’ll thank everyone around you later. Because, hey, greatness is never achieved alone.

Right now, you might be feeling how I did at the start. This is a period of adjustment and, if you’re anything like me, that means you’ll be crying almost every day. You’ll be wondering why you left behind the life you worked so hard for back home. You might be wondering why you’re saying goodbye to friends, and leaving behind projects and work that you care so much about. You may be wondering what your host mom means when she constantly repeats “disfrútalo!” (Enjoy yourself!) You might be watching YouTube videos about overcoming homesickness, and you may even walk into your program director’s office with tears in your eyes. You might tell her that you don’t know why you are abroad and that you are considering withdrawing. That’s exactly what I did. But don’t worry.

Read the full story on the UCEAP blog…

 

University-funded research: “Media Mistaken for Reality: Notions of Prison in America”

Research Question: “In what ways do people use fictional media representations of prison to inform what they think about prison in reality?”

introduction

If you flip on the television, chances are high that the news will be painted with violent criminals, Cops will be on all night, and Law and Order will be playing steady reruns. There is a plethora of scholarship investigating the ways media sensationalizes crime and portrays prison in a violent light; however, there exists a gap in research into understanding the ways in which people digest and make of use these images. People, affected by the criminal justice system or not, view fictitious media depictions that, in turn, inform their opinions about prison and criminality in reality. By interviewing focus groups of San Quentin State prisoners and members of the general public, this research attempts to answer the question, “In what ways do people use fictional media depictions to inform their perceptions of prison in reality?”  This research is focused on the public's meaning-making process on this subject in order to understand what is at stake when the entertainment industry puts forth material that represents a group of people in specific ways.

Research & Literature Review

Available upon request.

 

Women battle to continue fighting fires after their releases

As seen in Wall City Volume 2 Issue 2 by San Quentin News

By Elena Mateus with Doug Levy

Many people are surprised to learn that nearly 10 percent of the incarcerated firefighters serving at California’s 44 “fire camps” are women. Just like men, the women firefighters get the same training as Cal Fire’s other seasonal firefighters- one week in the classroom, another week in the field, and additional training on an ongoing basis. And, just like the incarcerated men who become firefighters, they can’t get jobs as firefighters once they return to their communities.

Amika Mota, second from right, fought fires at Central California Women’s Facility Fire Department while she was incarcerated . (Photo courtesy Amika Mota)

Amika Mota, second from right, fought fires at Central California Women’s Facility Fire Department while she was incarcerated . (Photo courtesy Amika Mota)

“There’s a lot of hard work that goes into it. It’s exhausting, but you just keep on going because there is a job to do,” said one of the women firefighters. ‘I have a whole new appreciation for the tools and the work that Firefighters do,” she told the San Diego Union-Tribune.

For Amita Mota, the reality of regulations that prevent many formerly incarcerated individuals from getting professional firefighter jobs hit hard. After rising to the rank of engineer, the top fire service rank in her unit, Mota returned to her community several years ago. There, she found only closed doors.

The state legislature recently considered legislation that would open opportunities for rehabilitated women and men to become firefighters. Cal Fire has also started a program for formerly incarcerated firefighters to join its professional ranks, but most municipal firefighter jobs are closed to anyone with a felony record — no matter what their training and performance as inmate-firefighters demonstrates.

The obstacle is that most cities require full-time firefighters to be cross-trained as both firefighters and emergency medical technicians, and individuals with felony records are barred from getting licensed as EMTs in many California counties.

“It never matched up for me, because we were able to do this from prison but not from the street,” said Mota in an interview with Wall City. “We were a fierce crew. We responded to structure fires, vehicle accidents, performed CPR, everything.”

The same is true throughout the United States, even though many communities

struggle to recruit and retain firefighters. This is in part why communities like the Central California city Madera rely on inmate fire crews as part of mutual aid pacts. Inmate crews also provide a significant amount of Cal Fire’s seasonal staffing.

In California, there are about 4,000 inmate firefighters, forming around 220 fire crews at 44 conservation camps in 27 counties. They are operated by the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation (CDCR) along with the California Department of Forestry and Fire Protection (CalFire) and the Los Angeles County Fire Department. The camps are minimum security facilities, most of them located in rural areas where woodland fires are most likely. Three of the campsMalibu, Puerta La Cruz and Rainboware for women.

The inmate firefighters are trained to the same standards as many urban fire- fighters. In fact, Mota’s five-woman crew handled all kinds of emergency calls, including many in Madera.
“We would respond to calls in the community. People knew if they saw a fire truck with all women, it was prob- ably us ‘fire girls,’” said Mota. “It felt good. I was doing good and helping the community, and everyone we worked with inside and outside of the prison recognized that.”
But not when it comes to hiring these people when they are released. Criminal justice reform advocates also raise questions about whether inmate fire- fighters are compensated appropriately or whether the CDCR firefighting pro- gram is another form of forced labor. In a recent New York Times article, Angela Hanks, director of the Center for Post- secondary and Economic Success at the Center for Law and Social Policy in Washington, said that inmate firefighters should be paid “a fair wage,” especially because it is such a dangerous job. At least six inmates have died while fire- fighting since 1983.

Shawna Lynn Jones, 22, a Los Angeles County Jail inmate firefighter died in 2016 while on duty. Jones’ name was added to the National Fallen Firefighters Memorial on the National Fire Academy grounds in Emmitsburg, Maryland.

“Shawna had a passion for sawyer work on the fire line and wanted to pur- sue this job in the fire service,” said the National Fallen Firefighters Foundation website. “Shawna gave her life so that others may live.”

Two other California inmate firefighters lost their lives in 2017. Despite the risks and career limits, Mota and other women say the experience is rewarding.

“I came into prison knowing I would be here for years, and this was something to work towards.” She was accepted into prison firefighting in 2012 after she served enough time on her 10-year sentence to qualify for minimum security.

Inmate firefighters are paid an aver- age of $2 per day, plus an additional $1

per hour that they are working on an active fire. Most inmate firefighters earn two additional days off their sentence for each day they serve as a firefighter, according to the CDCR.

Mota says the pay amounted to about 53 cents an hour, or weekly paychecks around $60. While this may seem better than nothing to some people, Mota explained that the pay was at times not enough.

“We had to buy deodorant, tampons, shampoo, and other basic things you need to live.” In addition, CDCR withholds 50 percent of an inmate’s pay if an inmate owes court-imposed restitution. “When you become incarcerated, it puts a financial burden on you and your family with tons of fees to pay back,” Mota said.

According to Mota, everyone around her supported her, and those who “intimately knew the firehouse did not agree with the amount they were paid.”

However, she did not let the pay — or status of being incarcerated — stop her. Affirmation by prison staff and others helped motivate her and her crew.

“They knew we were hard workers, we had integrity. We gave it our all. We had the respect of the correctional officers and fire captains and chiefs.”

Building up that confidence took time and a lot of work.

“Those calls were very intense,” she said, noting that her crew’s first car crash had three people who had to be extricated — and all three died.

“We could train all day long, but you’re never really prepared for what it is like to arrive at a scene like that. What you walk away with is something you won’t find in a book or in training,” she said.

Mota is not alone with frustration over the restrictions that prevent her and other formerly incarcerated individuals from getting jobs in California cities. She sees it as a contradiction that prevents people like her serve their communities constructively.

“They used to tell me all the time that if it was their daughter or their family in trouble, that they would want me on scene,” she said.

(Continued in Wall City Volume 2 Issue 2 available for purchase)

 
 
 

Her sport almost killed her, but that won’t stop her

Berkeley rugby player won’t let fear get in the way of playing the game and working to expand its reach

By Elena Mateus

Ceara Lafferty was lying down on a cot at the Highland Hospital in Oakland with a thick plastic tube sticking out of her nose and another shooting out of her stomach when her family came to visit her. They came and asked her the question that no athlete wants to hear: “Are you going to keep playing?” For the 6’0 rugby player, the answer was yes, even when her sport nearly killed her.

Lafferty went to the emergency room on April 21 after a kick to the stomach during a game punctured her intestine. She was rushed into emergency surgery to save her life after bile and stomach acid began dissolving her internal organs. Despite the injury, Lafferty, who also works for USA rugby, is expected to make a full recovery and has decided to keep playing competitively and keep expanding the sport that is part of her identity.

“My family was understandably upset when I didn’t quit, but rugby is a huge part of my story,” she said, “How could I just leave it behind now after one thing happened?”

Lafferty was playing for the Berkeley All Blues in the Northern California Women’s Club Division II Finals when she thought she just got the wind knocked out of her after a tackle.

Ceara Lafferty walks off the rugby field at Estuary Park in Alameda after practice ended on June 12. (Photo: Elena Mateus)

Ceara Lafferty walks off the rugby field at Estuary Park in Alameda after practice ended on June 12. (Photo: Elena Mateus)

But when the captain of the team did not immediately get up after making the tackle from behind, coach Evan Hoese took her off the field. “She is our captain and a powerhouse. She always gets back up, so when she didn’t, I took it seriously,” she said.

It was not until later that evening during the team social at a local bar that Lafferty realized she needed to go to the emergency room. “I ate something and started feeling an escalating pain,” she said, “As the night progressed I could not walk anymore because of it.”

Read the full story from the All Blues Newsletter…

 
Multiple pool tables line the upstairs of the Tap Haus in Berkeley. Calif.

Multiple pool tables line the upstairs of the Tap Haus in Berkeley. Calif.

A Quick Guide: Bars in Berkeley

There are many ways to turn up on college campuses. And here at UC Berkeley, it’s no different. Whether you despise male specimen and frats, or love hot closed spaces to rub up against other sweaty humans, there is a bar in Berkeley for you. Welcome to the quick guide of bars in Berkeley.

By: Elena Mateus

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  1. Tap Haus- This is the bar you take your dad to when he wants to catch a game. It’s always fairly empty during the day and most early evenings. However, come Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights, it’s a different story. There are multiple pool tables, a jumbo Jenga, and a giant connect 4. They do not serve hard alcohol, but they have an expansive selection of craft beer. Again, perfect for dad. They have an upstairs and a downstairs. Buy their truffle fries if you’re hungry! It is perfectly situated on at 2516 Durant Ave, right across from the Asian Ghetto- an array of eateries open late.

  2. Kips- If you like gross, sweaty bodies rubbing up against you: This is your place. There is no cover (for the most part) and they have a DJ on a daily basis. This place stays lit almost every night of the week, so post midterm on a Tuesday, hit this place up to drink your sorrows away. While you’re there, you should order one of their huuuuge fishbowls. Perfect to share. They have trivia nights and karaoke nights and get this- people actually dance here! This is definitely more of a club than a bar, but they do serve food. Come here to get drunk and dance your pants off on a Tuesday night.