Braids, Stories, and Possibility
I arrived at the small orphanage in Bolivia with little more than a backpack, some school supplies, and a heart full of questions. The children greeted me with shy smiles, curious eyes, and a vibrant energy that immediately filled the room. I had spent months fundraising to make this trip possible, envisioning a place where I could contribute meaningfully. Yet, I quickly realized that my role wasn’t to simply hand out supplies or organize activities—it was to connect, listen, and learn alongside them.
The girls were the first to approach me. At first, our interactions were tentative. They asked about my hair, giggled at the way I braided theirs, and wanted to know about my life back in the United States. As we braided, twisted, and tied each other’s hair, they began to ask about school: what it was like, what subjects I studied, and whether I had dreams for the future. I shared stories about my classes, my love of writing, and the moments when learning challenged me to think beyond myself. Slowly, their curiosity deepened. They began to imagine themselves attending school beyond what they could see in their small community, asking questions about high school, college, and careers they had never considered before.
Music became another bridge between us. I taught them songs from my childhood and listened as they shared the music they loved. Dancing together, laughing, and learning lyrics from each other’s worlds, we created a space of joy and trust. In those moments, it wasn’t just entertainment—it was connection, a way for them to feel seen, heard, and valued. I learned their stories: some of them had never been encouraged to dream beyond the walls of the orphanage, but the simple act of asking questions and listening carefully allowed them to explore new possibilities.
Each day, I helped paint walls, organize classrooms, and distribute supplies, but the real impact happened in the quieter moments. One girl, after hearing me talk about the importance of studying and asking questions, confided that she wanted to be a teacher. Another shyly told me she loved reading but didn’t think she could go to school beyond the basics. By sharing my own journey—the challenges of learning a new system, the pride of achieving small milestones, and the joy of discovery—I hoped to show them that education was not only possible, but a powerful tool for transformation.
Our conversations often drifted into personal stories. I learned about their families, their hopes, and even their fears. I shared what it meant to navigate school as an immigrant, the joy of learning, and the value of persistence. I explained how asking questions, staying curious, and seeking knowledge had helped me grow, and slowly, I saw a spark in their eyes—a budding belief that they, too, could aspire to more than the immediate circumstances around them.
By the end of my time in Bolivia, I noticed a subtle but profound shift. The girls who once approached me hesitantly now ran to greet me, eager to share what they had learned that day or to ask for advice on how to pursue their dreams. They began to take more initiative in their studies, showing a curiosity and determination that mirrored the conversations we had shared. For many, the notion of higher education, which had once felt distant or unattainable, became something tangible—something to work toward, something that could reshape the trajectory of their lives.
This experience taught me that impact isn’t always measured in tangible outputs or immediate results. It is found in the moments of trust, in the stories shared, in the spark of curiosity ignited in another’s mind. The girls taught me as much as I taught them—about resilience, joy in the face of limitation, and the power of imagination. I learned that by listening deeply and sharing my experiences openly, I could create a space where young voices felt validated, empowered, and inspired to pursue their own paths.
Returning home, I carried their stories with me. The lessons of patience, empathy, and the importance of connection became central to how I approach leadership and advocacy. Whether in the classroom, through writing, or in the communities I engage with, I strive to make space for others, to listen before speaking, and to empower voices that might otherwise go unheard. In Bolivia, I realized that mentorship is not about dictating a path—it is about planting seeds of possibility, nurturing curiosity, and inspiring confidence.
That trip solidified my belief in the transformative power of listening, storytelling, and personal connection. By meeting the children where they were and sharing who I am, I helped them see what could be, and in doing so, they helped me see the profound impact that human connection—and a little encouragement—can have on shaping futures.
