I grew up Catholic, but these days, I consider myself a recovering Catholic. What people might not realize is that I still love Jesus—after all, he never said anything bad about gay people. While my faith has evolved and I’m now Protestant, I’ve carried some valuable lessons from my Catholic upbringing. One of the traditions I still practice is Lent.
For me, Lent isn’t just about sacrifice—it’s about reflection and renewal. Every year, I give something up and add something meaningful to my life for 40 days.
As the Bible says on Ash Wednesday:
"Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return." – Genesis 3:19
This verse reminds me of humility, growth, and the fleeting nature of life. It’s a call to reflect on who we are, where we’ve been, and how we can do better.
So this Lent, I’m committing to two things:
Giving up soda pop—because I don’t drink enough water, and being intentional about my health is part of taking care of myself.
Daily self-reflection on past relationships (both romantic and friendships)—owning my mistakes, acknowledging growth, and honoring the lessons I’ve learned.
Every day for the next 40 days, I’ll be sharing reflections—some written, some as videos—on what I’ve learned from my relationships, the good and the bad, and how I want to move forward. This is about accountability, growth, and maybe even a little redemption.
Why 40 Days?
Lent mirrors Jesus’ 40 days in the wilderness (Matthew 4:1-11). During that time, he fasted, prayed, and faced temptation. It wasn’t just a test of endurance—it was a time of preparation. He left the wilderness stronger, clearer in his mission, and ready to step fully into his purpose.
Maybe we’re not wandering a literal desert, but we all go through wilderness seasons—times of struggle, questioning, and learning who we really are. Lent is an invitation to embrace that process, to sit with discomfort, and to emerge on the other side renewed.
Finding Strength in a Chaotic World
Let’s be real—the world is exhausting right now. The political climate is chaotic, injustices are rampant, and so many of us are walking around carrying frustration, fear, and fatigue. It’s easy to feel powerless, to let anger take over, or to burn out from constantly fighting battles we shouldn’t have to fight.
But Lent reminds us that transformation starts within. If we want to face the world with clarity and purpose, we have to first confront our own mess—the ways we’ve fallen short, the ways we can grow, and the ways we can show up stronger.
Reflection isn’t passive; it’s a tool for resilience. By engaging in this process, I hope to not only acknowledge where I’ve been but also prepare myself to be more intentional in how I move through the world—especially in times like these.
So here’s to 40 days of reflection, renewal, and hydration. Here’s to stepping into the wilderness, coming out stronger, and facing the world with a little more clarity and purpose.
Updated: Mar 5, 2025
As a Filipino immigrant, what do I know about Black History? I was taught the same things everyone else was taught if you went to public school. I knew slavery was bad, the Civil Rights Movement happened, and that Martin Luther King Jr. freed the enslaved... oh wait. That’s not what happened.
I didn’t truly understand the importance of Black History and how it’s intertwined with my immigrant story and the story of the United States. I didn’t get it until I took a semester of African-American history in the U.S. during my first year of college. I needed to truly understand because I had a feeling it somehow affected how I moved through the world.
The best way to explain what I learned is that African-American History is American History, and American History is African-American History. They are not parallel but interwoven and dependent on each other. Our democracy is founded on the backs of enslaved people, the genocide of Indigenous peoples, and the exclusion of immigrants. We have never been a peaceful country—we have always been violent. To pretend otherwise is both delusional and negligent.
Where am I going with this? Happy Black History Month. Acknowledge it, but don’t stop there. Black History should be recognized and understood all year long. Learn how it shapes your own life—because it does.
It’s Black History Month—Here Are 3 Things to Know About the Annual Celebration:
Black History Month started as "Negro History Week" in 1926. Carter G. Woodson, known as the "Father of Black History," established the week to recognize African-American contributions and ensure Black history was studied and valued. It expanded into Black History Month in 1976.
February was chosen because of Abraham Lincoln and Frederick Douglass. Both figures, who played significant roles in Black history, were born in February. Douglass, who was formerly enslaved and became a leading abolitionist, never knew his exact birthdate, but he celebrated it on February 14.
Black History is global. While the focus is often on the United States, Black History is deeply connected to movements across Africa, the Caribbean, South America, and beyond. The struggles for freedom, civil rights, and equality have influenced and been influenced by Black communities around the world.
In 2011, I was given the opportunity to be a DEI Program Manager. Not because I wasn’t qualified—I was perfectly qualified. I had the drive, the motivation, and the skills to do excellent work. And I did. Above and beyond. To the point where I was recognized and asked to sit on boards, a governor’s task force, and various panels. I’ve facilitated hundreds of groups and reached thousands of people over the years. I’ve been honored and asked to give keynote speeches in front of students and even at the MN State Capitol.
I’ve worked 60 to 80-hour weeks. Pursued degrees, certificates, and continued my education relentlessly. But the truth is—I did all of this not just for growth or passion. I did it to prove that I was qualified. More than qualified. I had to be exceptional because, for people like me, being “good enough” never is enough.
And here’s the thing—sometimes, I was bored. When you’re overqualified, that happens. And when boredom creeps in, motivation can wane. Eventually, exhaustion caught up with me. I stopped going above and beyond because I was tired. But here’s the kicker—when you’re a masc-presenting, queer person of color, simply being tired gets translated as being mediocre in the eyes of others.
I used to say, “My mediocre is better than some people’s best work.” And it’s true. But the world isn’t soft for people like me. The constant pressure to be excellent, interesting, charming, pleasant, and humble in a world that’s always trying to crush you—it’s oppressive. It wears you down.
I’ve said this over and over: If there are two candidates with the same qualifications, before DEI, the less qualified white man would often get hired over a qualified white woman or person of color.
THAT is why we have DEI.
Not to give anyone an unfair advantage—but to correct an imbalance that’s been there all along. To create space where people don’t have to be exceptional just to be seen as enough.
📸 Me in a brown coat holding my phone.
"If you find me not within you, you will never find me. For I have been with you, from the beginning of me." —Rumi