Written in 2023
“Go back to where you came from.” That was the top phrase I heard the entire time I’ve been a resident of the California Bible Belt.
There’s nothing original about growing up in the Inland Empire. It’s the suburbs—yet somehow still considered rural in parts. It’s a place where underrepresented populations are growing in number, but so are Trump flags and right-wing extremism.
In 2020, Riverside County—where I reside—declared racism a public health crisis. But racism has always been here. It’s in the air, in the politics, and sometimes literally in the air—I developed severe asthma from poor air quality, a byproduct of environmental racism. I once lived next to a house raided by the FBI for extremist activity. My local representative, Ken Calvert, welcomed Congresswoman Marjorie Taylor Greene to attend a church service in my community—during a tour with indicted rapist Congressman Matt Gaetz.
It’s the kind of place where, in 2014, “patriots” blocked a road with linked arms to stop a bus of Central American immigrants, convinced they were defending land that was never theirs to begin with. This community sits on stolen land—look up the Temecula Indian Massacre.
And I live here.
Assimilation Is Not Safety
Being multigenerational doesn’t shield me from anything. I still live with my parents after my divorce. I still face systemic oppression—in healthcare, in schools, and in the workplace. I’ve spent half my life trying to break into a profession that doesn’t want me there. Not here. Not where my presence is questioned at every turn.
At 28, I took a DNA test and discovered I’m Indigenous. But I don’t know what tribe I came from. That’s erasure. That’s trauma. That’s assimilation. And no amount of “blending in” will save us.
Journalism Was Never Just a Job
I built a journalism career piece by piece. Assistant Opinion Editor at Cal State Fullerton’s Daily Titan. Reporter. Editor. Columnist. I investigated homelessness in Orange County and covered political unrest. In 2017, I helped cover a CSUF lecturer’s altercation with the campus Republican club and the protests that followed. That work resurfaced recently—because the threats haven’t gone away.
I’ve written for luxury magazines, indie rock blogs, and newspapers across Southern California. I helped de-platform a right-wing extremist on The Intercept. My team placed third in the California College Media Awards and was a finalist for the LA Press Club. I was proud. But even with those wins, self-doubt lingered—because race and class constantly press back.
I have two degrees, including a Master of Science in Communications and Journalism Innovation, and I’m earning a doctorate in Education. But even now, I know what it means to be overlooked.
Beyond DEI
Diversity, equity, and inclusion have become marketing buzzwords. DEI can be a trap—another way to tokenize BIPOC voices instead of truly listening.
I used to think my passion was journalism. But what I’ve come to realize is that my real passion is learning. It’s education. It’s digital literacy. It’s helping others navigate a world built to exclude them. I’m currently a full-time doctoral student researching the intersection of media, digital access, and educational equity.
Innovation starts with the words we write—in the classroom, on the internet, and in print. That’s how we build new pathways.
Rewriting My Own History
I write poetry now—mostly dark. It’s how I process. I look at the media landscape and feel haunted. I watch journalism become clickbait. I watch misinformation flood the platforms. I watch the rise of new precedents in media law that mirror the darkest parts of our history.
But I also see possibility.
Without writers, there is no record. Without journalists, there is no truth in print. I lost my culture through assimilation, but I refuse to stay disconnected from my heart.
Through research, education, and writing, I’ve traced pieces of my family tree. I’ve rebuilt what was erased. I’ve claimed space. And I’ve done it all while living with invisible illness, chronic pain, and neurodivergence.
Why I Keep Going
Why do I keep writing? Why am I still fighting for space in rooms that were never designed for me?
Because breaking generational cycles matters. Because education matters. Because there are students—readers—leaders—like me, still searching for a story that feels like home.
I’m not just chasing a degree. I’m chasing the freedom to write the truth, to teach it, and to make sure someone else doesn’t have to grow up wondering where they really come from.
In the end, we all become the exact same specks of atmospheric dust. But while I’m here, I’m going to make it count.
Written by Ashlyn Ramirez – Writer, Researcher, Educator
All's Well That Ends Well 