About Me
I was born on Friday the 13th, 1989 — which, I mean… tracks.
I was raised by my grandparents in Arecibo, Puerto Rico, after my
mom had me at 15. Those early years shaped everything: I learned
what hard work looked like, what real poverty felt like, and what
it meant to be part of a community that shows up for each other.
At 11, I came to the U.S. with dreams full of American TV and rock
music — only to find out I didn’t quite fit in anywhere. I had a thick
accent, a love for skateboarding, and a growing obsession with this
noisy, chaotic music that turned out to be punk rock. That’s when I
found my frequency.
Punk gave me a lens: challenge authority, build your own systems,
make things better — or break them completely.
I spent a lot of my early life figuring things out the hard way.
I didn’t have much, but I had curiosity, time, and the internet. I deep-dived into whatever caught my attention — art, music, fashion, psychology, history, photography. Just me, the internet, and an obsessive need to know how things worked.
School didn’t really work for me. I couldn’t focus in class, and reading comprehension felt like trying to run through mud. I’d zone out, re-read the same sentence five times, and still walk away with nothing. But I usually chalked it up to being dumb, or just having one of those “who are you to tell me what to do?” kinds of attitudes. I was the classic “He’s 'smart,' he just doesn’t apply himself” kid.
YouTube was my college. I’d spend months, and in some cases years teaching myself anything I was curious about — until I either got good at it, or moved on to the next thing. My skill set became this patchwork of DIY learning, trial and error.
I had big ideas, little discipline, and just enough resourcefulness to stay afloat.
Eventually, I taught myself to cook. I studied technique, blew my grocery budget on obscure ingredients, and worked my way from dishwasher to line cook to leader. The kitchen taught me systems, urgency, collaboration, and how to lead under pressure — lessons I carry to this day.
I wanted to be a chef.
I taught myself to cook, obsessed over technique, and
eventually landed a job as an overnight cook at a shelter —
my own kitchen! I treated it seriously. People saw the
effort I put in and it mattered. Residents started showing
up for me like they didn't for other staff, they would
check in and help. Sometimes they stuck around just to
talk. At the time, the idea that I'd be giving anyone
advice was absurd, but people gravitated toward me
which revealed a kind of value in myself I hadn’t seen
before — and it shifted how I viewed myself, the work
I could do and where I wanted to take my future.
I started staying after shifts to join weekly staff
meetings — uninvited, and a few times mocked.
“Why is the overnight cook even here?” the director asked,
laughing. But I kept showing up. Not long after, that entire
leadership team was fired. By then, I had already left — after what
I’d describe as “cultural challenges.” Once I heard about the new leadership, I went in, handed
in my résumé, and got a chance to help rebuild. I used that role to bring structure, stability, and systems to the work. That’s when I saw how broken the system really was; I committed to putting myself in a position where I could fix what wasn’t working.
Building What Should’ve Existed Already.
This isn’t a stepping stone. It’s the field I chose, the one I’ve grown in, and
the one I’ve committed to shaping from the inside out. Change takes time,
and I’m not interested in waiting for someone else to do it. I’ve seen what
happens when systems fail quietly — when corners are cut, when no one’s
paying attention, and when the people being served are treated like an
afterthought. I’ve also seen what’s possible when those systems are rebuilt
with clarity, intent, and a little bit of fire.
I didn’t stay because it was easy. I stayed because it matters. And because I’ve
learned how to turn frustration into action. I’m here to build what’s missing, challenge what’s broken, and leave the work better than I found it.
Let’s create the solutions we’ve been waiting for—together.
Let’s create the solutions we’ve been waiting for—together.
