We women do not want to make waves; we do not want to upset people. But the moment for all of us to act is decidedly now.

This Day of the Dead, I made two loaves of bread: one to share with colleagues and the less pretty one for myself and my grandpa to share over a cup of cafecito.

After a trip to the border, I returned home to the nation’s capital—where President Trump continues to double down on cruel policies—carrying a stone I picked up in the desert and the stories of migrants.

I knew she would ask me to make the arrangements. She knew I would help. I promised I would be there for her, no matter what. God forgive me.

While climbing down off a freight train in western Texas, I committed to giving my life to God.

Truth and beauty can be found outside the walls of church, in a space that belongs to those who worship differently.