Instead of starting off by telling you what I've done and where I've studied, I'm going to tell you who I am, first.

I'm a woman of dualities and a walking contradiction, as I'm sure you are.  

I'm a community-oriented Mexican in as much as I'm an individualistic American. 

I grew up in the hood and have no space in my life for bullshiters or the ill-intended. 

But I'm also a softie who adores watching indie romance and superhero films, dissecting deep social commentary, and regularly losing myself in the wonders of the universe.

I love peaceful and meditative moments as much as I do excitement and spontaneous adventure. 

I adore traversing nature as much as I do city blocks.

I'm delicate and sensitive, but I'm also ardent and fiery.

I'm a modern woman trained by ancestral mages.

It is these seeming contradictions that make up the summary of who I am: soft and strong, logical and intuitive, peaceful and revolutionary - all at the same time. 

I'm proud of this balance. I think the world could use more of it in self and others.

I got my start in life in South Central Los Angeles, known for its high crime and high poverty rates.

It was there that I first developed a strong affinity for protecting others and serving the world.

Every day, I would come home from school and plop down on the couch to watch superhero cartoons. 

Seeing those tales of hero-dom juxtaposed against the backdrop of abuse and systemic oppression served to create within me a strong drive to turn my experiences into something that would serve others. Always.

To turn pain into medicine.

To protect the voiceless.

To speak up against normalized toxicity and hidden abuse... whenever I could see it.

I was fortunate enough to take this foundation to Stanford, where I received my BA in International Relations and established my early roots in activism, entrepreneurship, wellness, & spirituality. 

That foundation would go with me to every chapter of my life going forward.

From my work immediately after college working in an inter-religious center .... to getting my MA in International Affairs in George Washington University in Washington DC... to my stint in Bay Area Tech.

All along the way, I've been a multi-talent, speaking, coaching, traveling, working, and just trying to survive.

All of the above served as the foundation for where I am now.

Founder of Astekah and BIPOC-CX, dedicated to marginalized peoples.

Member of the Inaugural Alumni Leadership Council of Girls Inc., dedicated to female empowerment.

Volunteer Consultant & Content Creator for Light Haven, dedicated to alleviating poverty.

Thought Partner to others, including a team constructing an alternative to Capitalism.

And damn proud of all of it.

The answer to this question stems from my experiences with abuse.

I'm a survivor of covert narcissistic abuse.

I didn't know it was abuse until after I escaped, due to severe and constant gaslighting and manipulation that eroded my ability to understand what I was living, and my own lifelong suppressive survival tactics.

The day I escaped - thanks to loved ones who had kept an eye on me - would mark the end of my life.

Once away from the danger, my suppressive mental tactics collapsed, giving way to an avalanche of repressed memories and insights completely flooding my consciousness.

For weeks, I would break under the weight of waves of realization.

In between screams, I would catalog a new reality. A new understanding of what I had lived,

And, eventually, a new understanding of the world.

See, I analyze the hell out of everything.

So very quickly, I started to play out the elongated domino effect of what I had lived.

I realized the type of abuse I lived is fairly common, but very hard to detect because the abuser's tactics are devised to keep it so (such as: treating you differently under different contexts).

I realized this type of abuser tends to target the same type of person: kind, caring, resourceful, loving, over-forgiving people with worthiness wounds who seek to heal and protect others.

I realized those people live their whole lives stuck in cycles with abusive peoples.

I realized that, as a result, those peoples end up living half-lives. Sick. Stressed. Confused about why their lives aren't working out. Tired as all hell and not really understanding why.

And I realized those people then never go into the world to lead it or to heal it, not fully at least; which they 100% would if they weren't stuck in cycles with abusive peoples.

I realized this helped to explain the state of the world.

And I realized all our systems - all created generations ago - mirror abusive norms and tactics, too.

Abuse is abuse is abuse, whether it's in an office or a home or the national stage.

I realized media or political gaslighting has the same impact as relational gaslighting, and that just existing as a person in society mirrors the experience of living in an abusive family.

I realized it was all tied together.

Because caring people haven't been leading in a long, long time.

Not en mass. Not together. Not supported. 

Not able to see how systemic abuse plays out in predictable patterns, just like individual abuse.

I realized this also helps to explain the state of the world.

And, suddenly, just like that, my whole life made sense, so did the world. 

"Astekah" is the Nahuatl term for "People from Aztlan".

Nahuatl = Language of the Aztecs. Aztlan = Ancestral home of the Aztecs. 

Me = Descended from a Warrior Tribe that Fought Against the Aztecs :).

In case you were wondering how far back my warrior vibes go. Very far.

My ancestry and I have a deep connection.

In high school and college, I studied native Mexican tribes, I gave presentations on my ancestry and culture, I dove deep into the stories of my antepasados (ancestors).

I would carry that pride and connection with me through most my life,

In abuse, I would lose that connection as my identity was stolen from me. 

After escaping, however, it would come back. 

Firstly, as a very weird feeling that my ancestry had somehow helped me to survive.

That they'd somehow passed on the ability to hide parts of myself, even from myself, to survive.

That ability felt ancient.

The ability to hide our most sacred parts away from our oppressors... to survive.

Secondly was wrapped in realizations about systemic abuse.

See, I realized that the same tactics I endured as a survivor of individual abuse are the same tactics whole peoples endure from their oppressors. Going far, far back in time.

So, for example, the "smear campaign" that victims undergo as their abusers twist facts/history to paint themselves as benevolent or even as victims, themselves, is exactly what happens to colonized peoples.

We're seeing it play out live right now on the global scene.

Colonizers love to say the colonized needed them ("they were savages before we helped them"). That the colonized deserved ill treatment. That the abuse wasn't so bad. That abuse didn't happen. That the colonized were the aggressors ("terrorists"). Etc. Etc. Etc.

Same. Damn. Thing.

For the same. damn. reasons.