Category: blog post

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Last year, I got to stay in the coolest Airbnb. It was a small, cozy cabin––sitting near a zoo, a quaint town, and a vast lake. That staycation has stayed with me well for the past year. It’s the inspiration for this post.

Welcoming overnight guests doesn’t require a guest suite or a redesign. Even when hosting in a small home or apartment, thoughtful preparation can create a cozy, relaxed space that truly feels like a retreat for your guests. A warm, inviting space isn’t about square footage. It’s about intention.

Simple touches can go a long way in a small home or an apartment. You can make guests feel welcome, relaxed, and genuinely cared for, without overextending yourself or your space, with a bit of prep and a thoughtful mindset.

1. Set the Stage: Prep the Guest Space with Comfort in Mind

You don’t need a dedicated guest room to create a cozy overnight setup. It’s about making what you do have feel intentional.

  • Simplify the basics: Clean sheets, a cozy blanket, and a pillow—even on a sofa or air mattress—go a long way. Experts recommend selecting an extra-tall air mattress (approximately 20 inches) to replicate a traditional bed and facilitate easier access (Food52) and (NY Mag).
  • Create a drop zone: A cleared chair, luggage rack, or wall hook gives guests a spot for bags and clothes. These small gestures offer a meaningful welcome (A Life Unfolding).
  • Lighting and privacy: Even battery-operated bedside lighting or lamps help make unfamiliar spaces feel safer and cozy (Tiny Canal Cottage).
  • Thoughtful extras: A water carafe, phone charger, or handwritten note adds personal warmth. (Into the Gloss) and (Tiny Canal Cottage)

2. Hosting in Small Homes and Apartments

With space at a premium, creativity and flexibility are key.

  • Multi-purpose furniture: Consider sofa sleepers, daybeds, trundles, or futons, because they maximize utility without sacrificing comfort  (Rent-A-Center Blog) and (NY Mag)
  • Functional living areas: Shared spaces can be transformed with foldable beds or cushions. Using rugs or screens helps define guest zones  (Food52) and (NY Mag).
  • Quick tidy-ups: Rather than deep-cleaning the entire home, focus on shared areas; declutter just what’s visible, which helps guests feel welcome (Rose Lounsbury).
  • Declutter smartly: Leave open drawer or hanger space so guests can unpack, and reduce clutter for a more organized, accessible environment (Worthing Court) and (Rose Lounsbury).

3. Stock the Bathroom with Essentials

You don’t need a spa to entertain. Thoughtful basics are more than enough.

  • Clean linens and toiletries: Provide towels, soap, shampoo, toothpaste, and extras like lotion, Q-tips, or disposable razors (Worthing Court) and (Southern Living).
  • Clear communication: Avoid awkward moments by ensuring there’s a plunger or spare toilet paper on hand (Into the Gloss).

4. Keep Mornings Simple and Self-Serve

Self-service eases stress for both host and guest.

  • Breakfast basics: Set out coffee, tea, and grab-and-go snacks like granola bars, fruit, or yogurt. Also, make fridge items clearly labeled “help yourself.” This autonomy helps guests start their day comfortably (The Crowned Goat) and (Southern Living).
  • Snacks and beverages: A small basket with healthy snacks or flavored water enhances convenience and hospitality (The Crowned Goat) and (Rent-A-Center Blog).

5. Communicate the Unspoken Rules

Clear, casual communication goes a long way.

  • Detail essentials: Share Wi-Fi info, where to find key items, and home quirks (e.g., sticky faucet). A framed sign or friendly text works well  (Wit & Delight).
  • Clutter-conscious hosting: Clear seating surfaces and pathways; this subtle consideration helps guests feel immediately relaxed (The Expert Beginner).

6. Build in Space, Together, and Apart

Balance connection with boundaries.

  • Offer shared time, like a meal, a walk, or a movie, but also emphasize they’re welcome to relax independently. This respect for personal space fosters comfort and goodwill.

7. When Guests Stay Longer

More extended stays may require extra structure.

  • Shared routines: Establish quiet times, optional shared chores, and boundaries for your own work or rest periods.
  • Communicate gently: A kind heads-up about expectations ensures everyone’s comfort through more extended visits.

8. The Finishing Touch: Small Gestures, Big Impact

It’s often the tiniest touches that linger.

  • Vintage etiquette, modern warmth: Even small traditions—like a handwritten thank-you note, a vase of flowers, or sitting with guests in a cozy setting—drove hospitality in the past, and they still resonate today  (Better Homes & Gardens) and (Good Housekeeping).
  • Make the entry inviting: A clear, inviting entryway sets the tone. Good lighting, space to sit, and scent can all help guests feel welcomed before they even step inside (Better Homes & Gardens) and (Southern Living).

Final Note:

Hospitality isn’t measured in square feet. It’s crafted through intention. Your care and preparation count. From clearing a chair for luggage to leaving a thoughtful note, these small preparations make guests feel not just welcomed, but genuinely at home.

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Putting on makeup feels far more tedious than writing. I enjoy it. Unfortunately, I’m not especially good at it. It remains a hobby, more than a craft. Still, makeup is a lot like writing a story. It moves in chapters, with parts that blend into one another through quiet transitions.

Think about every layer of mascara like the climax of a book you can’t seem to put down or look away from. The lipliner and lipstick are the takeaway, wrapping up a story so seamlessly.

Makeup tells stories, too. Some passages are cursive, delicate, and flowing; others are written in dark ink, bold and confident. There’s a dichotomy between fountain pens and ballpoint pens, like the contrast between eyeliner and lipstick, which holds the story structure together. Then there are the bright colors behind eyeshadow—the kind that make the eyes pop like exclamation points on a page.

Blush is like an adjective, and bronzer is the adverb supporting the text with grace.

I have so much respect for the meticulous women who shape their faces as if each brushstroke were an extension of themselves. They create narratives with color and precision, crafting a beauty I can only admire from the periphery.

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I start my mornings early, but my problems with technology begin even sooner. Sometimes, I open and close my laptop and restart it because I cannot get the internet to cooperate with me. I run to restart the router. Luckily, I get on my cellphone to finish my call to my Chair. The baby is now crying, and usually I would want to cry too. But this is something I am used to, and I’m too busy taking notes to fall apart mentally. 

I am in the final year of my dissertation, focusing on Hispanic students at Hispanic-Serving Institutions. I’m fascinated by the Digital Divide Theory and its impact on marginalized students seeking technology access, user ability (digital literacy), and their perceptions of online course success. Pursuing my doctoral degree is a distinctive milestone and an assurance to give back to my community through knowledge and awareness. That, in itself, is both my end goal and my path to happiness.

On paper, this is research. In my heart, it’s personal. 

As a first-generation Hispanic college student, first-time mother, and communications professional, I have overcome challenges in health, identity, and access. I still struggle with my health as my ulcerative colitis progresses. But I persist. 

Now, ten months postpartum, I am more motivated than ever to finish my degree, for myself and my son. I want him to see what it looks like to keep going, even when the light at the end of the tunnel is too faint to make out. I want him to grow up knowing that knowledge is indispensable, education is power, and lifting others is a part of our purpose. These are key to an inevitable path to happiness.

I took time off after my C-section to recover physically and mentally, navigating postpartum depression without the safety net of paid leave. As a self-employed communications consultant, there was no paycheck waiting for me, no HR department checking in. Recovery happened in between diaper changes, dissertation edits, and client calls.

 I’ve gone the extra mile to manage recovery, parenting, and doctoral coursework, but like many women, especially women of color, I have done it quietly while balancing family life. I do not always have childcare readily available. I have health conditions that need monitoring, like my colitis and my asthma, which result in more routine doctor appointments than most at my age. 

My son accompanies me to appointments sometimes, and he enjoys chatting on the phone when I talk to my Chair, as if he already understands the importance of what I’m working toward. He is a good sport about it, and he loves to try to grab my fountain pens and “help” me type. 

I often feel empowered knowing I can be a mom, a writer, a consultant, and a student working on a degree that is statistically difficult to achieve. I am among the 16.7 percent of Hispanic students who earn doctorates, and 2.6 percent of disabled students who earn a doctorate in education. 

I know what it’s like to feel unseen in academic spaces, as if the systems around you weren’t built with you in mind. I aim to use this research to inform institutional practices that are more inclusive, accessible, and supportive of students from all walks of life.

This process has shaped me in ways I never imagined. It has made me more empathetic, resilient, and undoubtedly sure that the work I am doing matters, not just for me or my son, but for many others who deserve to thrive in higher education.

I’ve been the student who couldn’t rely on her Wi-Fi or cell signal, but I always found a way to make things work. Some people are more disadvantaged and are unable to do the same. I’ve learned what equity means when you’re living it, not just researching it.

My career goals are founded in service. I aim to utilize my research, writing, and strategic communication skills to influence policy, guide institutions, and champion the voices of historically underrepresented groups through education. I believe deeply in the power of storytelling, not only as a former journalist but as someone who has seen how narratives can shape access to opportunity. 

This journey has not been easy, but it has been transformative. My experiences are woven into every part of who I am. It has reminded me that you can still take the next step forward even when you’re exhausted, overwhelmed, or unsure. And those steps matter. 

Those steps lead towards a seat at the table.

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Sometimes I hold my breath until it hurts. And then everything in my vision is shaking. But the shake isn’t fear, per se.

There are moments of anticipation that run through your veins like ice-cold rain—moments when you take the plunge, not because it’s comfortable, but because you want the result badly enough to face the shock.

The shock burns cold, tightening my body as I submerged myself for 90 seconds. Meditate, relax, and move forward. And start the life cycle all over again.

I’ve now gone from hot water (104 degrees, to be exact) to a violent burst of refreshing cold.

The truth is, nerves are just water, and we’re all vessels. How we carry the water, how we let it flow between our fingers, determines whether it moves us forward.

So, here’s to the plunge and the shock that comes with it.

Side note: cold plunges are about 48 degrees. And I’d do it again.

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Written in 2023, expanded in 2025

Being a leader in education doesn’t often come with a personal handbook. Or if it does, it’s outdated; ill-equipped for the complexities of 21st-century classrooms and communities. As we continue to confront widening disparities in educational access, especially in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic, one truth becomes clear: effective leadership isn’t just about policies or protocols. It’s about people, and the ability to lead with empathy, community, and transformation in mind.

Leadership in the Age of Digital Learning

The pandemic redefined what it means to teach and learn. As online learning became the norm, issues like internet accessibility rose to the surface, especially in rural and low-income areas where connectivity is often limited or unreliable. But beyond technology gaps, we also saw cracks in leadership communication, especially between administrators and educators.

Outdated systems, hierarchical thinking, and transactional leadership styles have created barriers that make it difficult for teachers and students to advocate for their needs. These gaps in communication are more than logistical—they’re structural. They reflect a need for new leadership paradigms that meet today’s challenges with empathy, collaboration, and innovation.

Instructional Leadership and the 21st Century Classroom

In a 1999 study of over 800 U.S. teachers, researchers found that educators’ expectations of leadership often clashed with the realities of administration. More recently, the Journal of Organizational and Educational Leadership reaffirmed the belief that school outcomes are closely tied to leadership effectiveness. The takeaway? Instructional leadership must go hand-in-hand with technological transformation and digital literacy.

Teachers need leaders who do more than manage: they need leaders who listen, collaborate, and help create space for professional reflection and growth. These are the hallmarks of transformational leadership, as opposed to transactional leadership, which focuses more on compliance, control, and routine.

Transformational vs. Servant Leadership: A Needed Blend

According to Hu & Linden (2011), transformational leadership builds confidence and work advocacy, but it’s servant leadership—with its focus on selflessness and empathy—that enhances both satisfaction and effectiveness in teams. When combined, these leadership approaches foster a culture of trust, transparency, and empowerment across all levels of education.

As Peter G. Northouse (2021) notes, leadership rooted in empathy and community connection is essential for long-term cultural change. It empowers teachers, administrative staff, and students, particularly those from marginalized backgrounds, who go on to shape the American workforce.

Creating Lifelong Learners and Leaders

Leadership in education isn’t just about student test scores or teacher evaluations. It’s about nurturing lifelong skills like digital literacy, critical thinking, and emotional intelligence. And it’s about ensuring every stakeholder, especially those in underserved communities, has equitable access to the tools and support they need to succeed.

The literature shows a clear need for stronger communication between principals and teachers. When leaders and educators collaborate toward shared goals of inclusivity and equity, they create ripple effects that extend far beyond the classroom.

DEI and the Need for Cultural Change

Diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) aren’t just buzzwords. They’re essential frameworks for reshaping a system that has historically privileged transactional over transformative leadership.

Transformative, adaptive leadership aligned with DEI principles is especially urgent in a post-pandemic world where disparity gaps have widened. While DEI work remains underdeveloped in many educational settings, it offers a path forward; one grounded in soft skills, compassion, and the recognition that authentic leadership starts with human connection.

Final Thoughts

To move toward a more inclusive and effective educational system, we need more than curriculum updates or policy changes. We need leaders who understand that communication, empathy, and community are the foundations of success, not just for students, but for educators and administrators alike.

As we reevaluate the leadership values necessary for the future, one thing is clear: no relationship in education can remain purely transactional. Leadership must mean something. And it must start with listening.

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In 2019, I bought my first domain. It wasn’t for my business, a brand, or even a blog that was ready for the world. I just knew I needed a space that was mine. I needed a blank slate that I could shape entirely on my own terms.

I already had a marketing portfolio. But this was different. It was a place to process, to reflect, to write what I wanted without worrying about SEO or structure—a place to yell into the void. Once upon a time, over 1,000 people followed my Tumblr for the same reason. Not a lot, but enough to feel like someone was listening. Maybe even helped by something I wrote, and I wouldn’t have known.

At the time, I was juggling freelance gigs, grad school, and the sense that I wasn’t doing enough. Not successful enough. Not published enough. Contracts were ending, my confidence was shot, and I felt like I was treading scalding hot water. But I could still build this tiny digital corner where I could show up without needing permission. Just me, my writing, and whatever I was working through.

That website has quietly housed a vast collection of writing samples, portfolio pages, late-night freewrites, and a substantial number of drafts that never saw the light of day. I was able to write through a divorce that almost derailed my career. I ultimately completed my master’s degree in Journalism Innovation during one of the most challenging periods of my life. 

Sometimes, I feel like you can hear my heart beating through the words I’ve written there. I don’t know how to do anything else but write, which, honestly, weirds people out that I feel that way. I’m not a math person. What can I say?

Sometimes my mom asks why I still pay to keep my website up. And the answer never changes: because it matters to me. Because even when I’ve felt lost, that site has been a quiet promise to keep going. A digital piece of myself, reminding me I’m still here, still writing, and still building.

And lately, the views have started stacking up again. In the past week alone, I’ve seen a 125% increase in traffic and a 179% jump in visitors.

Maybe that’s not much in the grand scheme of things.

But it’s something.

It’s mine.

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The U.S. economy added just 33,000 jobs in July 2025, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics. That’s a drastic drop from June’s revised total of 194,000 jobs. For context, economists expected around 175,000 new jobs. We fell significantly short.

July’s report signals a broader slowdown in job growth. While one month doesn’t define a trend, many professionals are understandably anxious. When growth slows, layoffs often follow. Freelancers feel the squeeze. Recent grads face fewer opportunities. Hiring freezes kick in.

So what can we do in times like these?

Servant Leadership Is More Important Than Ever

In tough economic times, good leadership matters more. But not the traditional top-down kind. Now is the time for servant leadership.

Servant leaders put people first. They provide support, empathy, and stability. They coach, uplift, and guide without ego. They ask, How can I help?

And they recognize that hope is a strategic advantage.

If you’re in a position of leadership right now, consider how you can create clarity and calm for your team, your peers, or even your online community. Compassion-driven leadership is needed in this very moment.

Learn Instead of Just Earn: Why Literacy Is the Key

When jobs are scarce, learning becomes survival. But we’re not just talking about college degrees. In today’s world, we need multiple forms of literacy:

  • Digital literacy — How systems work, how content flows, how to use platforms like LinkedIn and Indeed
  • Media literacy — Understanding how information is framed and shared online
  • Platform literacy — How to navigate job boards, remote hiring, and gig platforms

The goal? Know how everything works. Learn how the systems move so you can move through them, and around them if necessary.

If You’re Out of Work: What to Focus On

1. Keep updating your portfolio. Even if you’re not currently employed, you can keep working on projects, freelance tasks, writing samples, or mock case studies. Employers want to see momentum and proof that you’re still growing. Consider a writing challenge for your blog (like what I’m doing right now) or create a collection of social media posts that drive engagement for a marketing or SEO role.

2. Stay open to freelance or contract work. Many employers are cutting full-time roles but still need help. Contract gigs can fill in financial gaps and keep your skills sharp. Yes, freelancing means buying your own health insurance. But it also means flexibility and survival. Right now, survival matters.

3. Don’t underestimate your effort. You’re not alone. Many talented people are in the same position. For example, one job I applied to a couple of weeks ago had 954 job applicants. Another one had over 1600. The U.S. has over 330 million people, and only 33,000 new jobs were added. That’s not on me or you.

4. Keep working on that small business. Staying busy is best, and while staying busy does not always mean being profitable, it does mean that there is a way to contribute to your community. And in turn, the community will support you. For those who sell goods, consider farmers’ markets. Get chronically online. Open that Etsy or Shopify. Interact with others online and watch how organic engagement draws people in.

5. Have empathy for yourself. It’s okay to be tired. It’s okay to feel stuck or stagnant. Sometimes, you find yourself meditating, but you might wonder why you’re being still when you need to be working. It’s okay. Just don’t confuse stillness with failure, because we aren’t failures. We are surviving. And if you’re trying, you’re doing more than enough.

If You Have a Job: Hold It Carefully, But Strategically

If you’re currently employed, be mindful of how you contribute. Help others where you can. Be someone who uplifts. But also: keep your options open. Update your resume, refresh your skills, and quietly prepare for what’s to come, which will probably include further drastic economic instability.

Sources:

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Written in 2025

It’s been a while since I’ve done a free write.

So, here I am. Just sitting with my thoughts. Feeling okay. Not great, not awful. Just okay.

Lately, I’ve found myself ruminating. About everything and nothing at the same time. The paradox of politics has been especially loud in my head. We live in a moment where standing for something should matter more than ever, and yet we’re watching people fall for anything.

The divide between left and right feels enormous, but maybe we’re looking in the wrong direction. Perhaps it’s not about the dichotomy between what’s left or right. There has to be something else.

I look over at the book I’ve been reading, Pedagogy of the Oppressed by Paulo Freire. Suddenly, the thought bubble is taken over by the little speck of light you see when you’re floating to the bottom of the sea. Small, but bright.

Maybe we should be looking up and down.

Because let’s be honest: we’re not on the up and up.

The Weight We Carry

Photo by Ahsanjaya on Pexels.com

Many millennials—often burdened by debt, high rent, and economic instability—are living in multigenerational households. As of 2021, approximately 18% of millennials (ages 27–42) were living with their parents or other older relatives (Pew Research Center).

Millennials have lived through wars, pandemics, and now the normalization of fascist rhetoric in American public life. From 9/11 to Iraq and Afghanistan, to COVID-19, to the destabilizing effects of misinformation and mass surveillance, we’ve been through it. And now Gen Z is dealing with it too. And so will Gen Alpha, which is a shame.

Photo by Anna Shvets on Pexels.com

Coming together still feels like a dream. But dreams don’t happen unless we make moves. And the community needs to hit the ground running. We’re all going to have to pick up the slack.

Time does not stop for anyone.

Idiocracy, In Real Time

Photo Courtesy of The Guardian

I finally watched Idiocracy the other day. It’s satire. But barely. It’s a little scary how books and movies help us make sense of our present day.

In the U.S., most adults read at a 7th to 8th-grade level, according to the National Center for Education Statistics (NCES). Post-pandemic studies have shown a decline in literacy, particularly among young people.

This is why my son has a “banned books” shelf, for all stages of his life. I am afraid that this type of information might slip through his tiny hands if I don’t provide it. So I will. I will teach him. The most radical thing I can do, as a parent, is teach my son what the schools will not.

Knowledge is the last vestige of reality. We’re watching it slip through our phone screens. Anti-intellectualism, algorithm-driven thinking, and an overreliance on AI-generated content have reshaped how we think, what we value, and how we interact. Like Baudrillard predicted, we’ve become a nation of simulations.

We’re watching the downfall of the United States in real time.

And it’s not some abstract future. It’s now.

This is literally something that no amount of therapy, medication, or Love Island could fix, due to economic instability like this. Our stock market is inflated, and the tariffs we will and already are paying will not help.

And then there’s still half of America that doesn’t realize that. Still.

What We Need: Community, Care, and Clarity

However, there is hope.

Creator: Jae Hong | Credit: AP

Copyright: Copyright 2025 The Associated Press. All rights reserved

In California, we’ve seen mutual aid in action—from organizing during ICE operations to recovering from catastrophic wildfires. In July 2024, reports of targeted ICE activity in Los Angeles renewed the urgency around community defense, and the response was swift: neighbors supported one another. Legal aid groups mobilized. Volunteers stepped in.

We’re more than just voters. We’re protectors of the community. There may be a drastic digital divide that the wealthy abhorrently take advantage of — and people are starting to see it.

This isn’t just about left or right.

It’s about transcending fascism. About resisting late-stage capitalism. About caring for one another in a system that’s tried everything to convince us that care is a weakness. It’s about a community of care.

It’s about grassroots organizing, building community resilience, and mitigating misinformation. It’s about refusing to back down even when things feel impossible.

The population is waking up and putting their foot down. Enough is enough.

There’s still time to enact a call to action.

There’s still time to make a change.

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I admit that it hurts a little—but not entirely—to understand a Spanish meme on Twitter or Instagram. I don’t use a Spanish keyboard on my iPhone. And try talking to other fluent Spanish speakers with Google Translate. I can’t compete.

In short, I probably understand about 30 percent of what’s said to me, and that’s being generous. I religiously use subtitles when watching Narcos: Mexico. To say it’s just embarrassing is an understatement. Finding a solution to my first-world problem ended up with long-term plans for the future.

Straddling Two Worlds with One Language

It’s awkward being multiracial but monolingual. I’m the less than half of US-born Hispanics whose Spanish is forever subpar. I’m also part of the less than half of 1.4 million Filipinos surveyed in 2013 that live in California and do not speak Tagalog, Visayan, or Ilocano.

Pew Research Center data shows that over 60 percent of Hispanic-born citizens in the United States speak Spanish. And U.S. Census Bureau projections found that the share of those who speak only English at home rose from 26 percent in 2013 to 34 percent in 2020.

But 95 percent of all Latino adults see the value in learning how to read and write in Spanish.

So Where Do We Fit In?

So, where does the third of non-Spanish but Hispanic-identifying speakers fit in? There are 10 million Americans that identify as multiracial. What cultures do they identify with best?

My sense of culture is chaotic. Probably not by choice. None of my tattoos match. I feel more like a “Valley Girl” than anything. A language barrier is always an excuse for staying mute on the matter. Growing up in rural Southern California, I never realized just how much I would be missing out by never picking up either of my native languages.

Language Lost, Identity Fractured

I have a handful of Spanish-English dictionaries that we’ve barely touched. At 29, I’m too old to pick up a second language thoroughly. Eighteen is the cut-off for learning a new language well, according to Scientific American. When faced with the debacle of my monolingualism in public, I usually smile and say that I can’t roll my tongue for an “r.”

Therefore, I’m not going to try.

Trust me, learning Spanish in high school pales compared to someone who has spoken Spanglish their entire life. I yearn to code-switch and never will.

I lack an identity except being a third-generation American, which is less than impressive these days.

The Cultural Disconnect Is Real

Being light-skinned yet part of a multitude of beautiful yet underrepresented groups made for an interesting upbringing. It shows a stark difference between first-generation immigrants and the latter.

People who speak Tagalog or Spanish—primarily Spanish—will come up to me to strike up a conversation. In Costco, at the DMV, whatever. The blank stare they get in response that turns into a nervous laugh is always met with an eyeful of disappointment when realizing that I’m entirely white-washed.

“Why didn’t your parents teach you any other languages?” — the general question I feel — masked behind a blank stare with a hint of disdain. The ability to speak the Ilocano dialect was never something my maternal grandmother taught to anyone. My great-grandparents took the language with them when they passed. My mom never knew her father, a Hispanic and native military man who died before birth.

My paternal grandmother and my older family on her side speak Spanish, while the younger generations know very little. I could never understand why until I got older.

A Legacy of Survival

People seemingly tend to look down on others who share their heritage but lack the native language. Statista found that 7.3 million Americans in multiracial relationships identify as Hispanic. But you have to consider the term itself is a colloquial monolith.

I didn’t choose only to speak English. Colonialism did that for me. Not every person gets a chance to hold onto the cultures that represent their identity. All I can continue to do is look on with envy at those that can migrate their entire conversation to a different language like nothing. And I can also advocate for change.

My entire racial identity, my whole family, gentrified themselves over a century to assimilate and survive. The part left the Philippines for Hawaii before World War II. The rest fled Sonora, Mexico, and settled in the most significant Yaqui indigenous settlement in all of Arizona.

With some long-winded, extensive research, I’ve realized that both my mom and dad’s parents felt it was better to keep all aspects of culture at home and exude as much whiteness as possible. I developed a sense of fractured yet eloquent cultures through other avenues: vast amounts of literature, food, music, and art.

Rewriting the Future

I hope to instill those values in my future children—while allowing them to learn more than what English has to offer. While I may never really know where my indigenous roots lie because colonialism took those languages from my generation, I don’t plan on leaving my family to figure out their identities on their own.

Thirty years ago, there wasn’t a push to have bilingual children like there is now. Interracial marriage is still a relatively new concept. It was a survival tactic for survival in a nation ruled by white, wealthy men. When I look into U.S. census records, I don’t see a sole family name there. The fact that immigrants had to swallow their cultures to fit into America’s bubble is egregious.

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Print Capitalism, National Consciousness, and the Problem with Imagined Unity

Benedict Anderson’s Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism explores how nationalism itself is not an organic development, but a socially constructed phenomenon—an “imagined community” built through shared language, culture, and crucially, the rise of print capitalism.

It’s a fascinating idea: that nations are not bound by physical borders but rather by the stories we tell ourselves and each other. Citizens build a sense of belonging through newspapers, novels, and other printed materials, one that gives people the illusion of unity with others they would never meet in person. Anderson argues that this shared sense of identity, while powerful, is imagined. And like many imagined ideas, it can be wielded for both cohesion and control.

From Anderson’s perspective, the press plays a key role in this construction. Journalism becomes not just a source of information, but a vehicle for reinforcing nationalism. At its best, the media is supposed to serve as a societal watchdog. However, under capitalism, and particularly when a handful of billionaires control the press, those ideals are often replaced by narratives that serve power, not the people.

In the same way state-run media has shaped public perception in countries like North Korea, Vietnam, or China (as Anderson notes on pages 282–283), Western media, though less overtly controlled, often operates in similar ways. Ownership, agenda, and ideology filter what gets published, and who gets heard. The result? A narrative that normalizes colonization, glorifies the past, and renders oppression and exploitation invisible to the mainstream.

And even though much of the media we consume today is digital rather than printed, the impact remains. Words are still “printed” on screens, and they still construct a national identity; one that often leans heavily into conservative values, especially in the U.S., where Christianity and nationalism frequently go hand in hand.

Now, to be clear: having pride in your country isn’t inherently problematic. However, when a selective history and curated information shape national pride, things become murky. For example, in certain rural or conservative parts of the U.S., public school curricula are shaped by school boards that may actively omit or distort historical realities, glossing over colonization, slavery, and the actual mechanics of war. Omission doesn’t just limit education; it undermines the national consciousness that Anderson described. Without honest reflection, the “imagined community” becomes more myth than memory.

Capitalism and the Narrative of Truth

Ideologies such as Marxism and socialism were founded on principles of equity and solidarity. However, when capitalism becomes the dominant force behind the circulation of information—especially when profit and power are involved—those ideals can be easily co-opted. Greed alters the public narrative, and we see this play out in real time through today’s media coverage.

A Case Study in Media Framing

Take, for example, the ongoing starvation of Palestinian infants and children. A leaked internal memo from The New York Times in 2024 reportedly instructed journalists not to refer to Palestine as an “occupied territory” or to use terms like “genocide” in their reporting. Regardless of where one stands politically, it’s clear that such editorial decisions shape public perception. When specific terms are off-limits, it becomes harder for readers to access the full scope of the issue, and easier for a particular narrative to dominate the conversation. In this case, media objectivity is compromised in favor of language that supports nationalist or colonialist perspectives.

It’s not just about one conflict and its framing. It’s about how newsrooms, under the pressure of corporate and political interests, contribute to constructing national identity in ways that may exclude or silence others. They become complicit. When journalism becomes selective in its truth-telling, it undermines its purpose and reinforces a worldview that favors power over people.

The Tech-Nationalism Feedback Loop

Nationalism, as Anderson reminds us, is a modern invention. It evolves alongside technology, and as our means of communication become faster and more centralized, so too does the spread of nationalist ideology. We see this not just in the U.S., but in places like China, where digital firewalls and media censorship shape the public’s perception of national identity. There, access to platforms like Facebook or Instagram is restricted not only for security, but also to protect a specific narrative.

Secular Allegiance and the Flattening of Identity

Anderson also notes how nationalism can take on secular forms, replacing religious or ethnic affiliations with allegiance to the nation-state. In theory, this could be a unifying force; something that helps people move beyond divisions and find common ground. In practice, though, it often flattens identity, pushing marginalized communities to conform to dominant norms or risk exclusion.

Conclusion: Who Gets Left Out?

This tension between imagined unity and lived reality is perhaps the most pressing issue with nationalism today. When media and technology become tools of influence rather than inquiry, they no longer create bridges between people. They create barriers.

Anderson’s work doesn’t just help explain the origins of nationalism; it offers a lens for questioning the stories we’re told and the systems that tell them. It invites us to ask the following question: Who benefits from these imagined communities? Who gets left out of the story?