I’m South Central Los Angeles. I am the product of a community that has been and still is systemically stratified based on racial and economic oppressive practices. I remember growing up in a place that not only encouraged generational poverty but offered a breeding ground for it to fester and grow. As a former foster youth, I experienced many atrocities and became a victim of sexual abuse at the hands of my biological grandfather. I was raped from 10-14 years old. I have been to the lowest places that this world has to offer and even worse: the lowest places our minds have to offer as well. I am not supposed to have a BA from Cal Berkeley and a MA from Columbia University and am currently obtaining a master’s in Education at LMU, but I am. And that’s because, for all the bad people that I had to endure, there were those few little people, mostly teachers, who poured into me the idea of a possibility of a future. Knowing that education was going to be the only way to escape my daily hell. Getting into Berkeley helped change my outlook on the opportunities that I could create for myself. Once I arrived on campus, I didn’t quite know exactly what I wanted to do, I just knew that I had an innate passion and talent for the media arts. I thought my place was in front of the camera, but as I took my first media studies course, I soon came to realize that my place was indeed behind the camera. I quickly realized that, behind the camera, I had more control over the creative direction and direct influence over narrative planning. I grew to learn that this is where the power lies in film and art creation. I aspire to be a film professor where I am able to host and facilitate discussions on culture and media and how it pertains to our everyday lives.
I began writing poetry when I was a junior in high school, at the ripe age of 16 years old. This outlet changed my life forever. Throughout my time in undergrad, I experienced a lot of obstacles that stemmed from the traumatic effects of being raped at such a young age. I almost lost my life voluntarily on a few occasions and one time I got so sick, super sick, I had to be rushed to the hospital because my organs were starting to shut down. All of these issues coupled with the diagnosis of mental health illness left my spirit in depressive peril. Poetry and Journaling, and writing in general, gave me a voice again when I thought I had lost my voice forever. The rebuilding phase was so difficult at first and is still in progress, but I cherish the lessons and wisdom I have gained over the years. I put everything into my writing: poems, narratives, and scripts. This is my healing and I know that my purpose in life is not only to spread God's love, but to also help people express themselves and heal in some way.
As a survivor, most of my scars aren’t physical. The majority of them are psychological. With these unseen scars, it’s difficult to explain them to people who have not experienced the things that I have and do not experience the constant anxiety and stress that I encounter on a daily basis for no reason at all. People may forget what you have done or said, but they will never forget how you made them feel or think. That is called impact: imagine making permanent, accessible change. Equity inspires impact. Being able to make survivors feel seen and heard encourages a passion inside of me that surpasses my current circumstances. Being able to guide them past their own limitations is what we need for this next generation to succeed. I want to continue the marathon, give back to my communities in need, and make real change.
Through the journey of the self, to the self, through the self, I was able to find myself. Writing allows me to be vulnerable with myself and with the world. It gives me space to not be afraid, but to own all of me, proudly and boldly.
st.dill
writer
