Sundays after mass are spent at Smokey Row. We are in this coffee shop with others sitting in different tables, we don’t know them and they don’t know us. They don’t know that my sister and I traveled a long way to get where we are. They don’t know the obstacles we’ve had to climb to achieve the impossible as minorities. All they know is that we sit here every sunday trying to get work done. If they knew half the things my sister has done as an activist for the immigration community, they would either judge her or praise her for her hard work. But I don’t. She is a shining star in my book. I look up to her because she will not take no for an answer, she fights for what she believes in. Which I think a great trait to have in today’s world.
