To my future self,
Do you remember when we were little and used to carry our cabbage patch kid around the Montebello Mall? We would stroll around the mall with it nestled in a Disney Princess bassinet. Can you imagine how adorable we must have looked — walking around diligently caring for our little baby cabbage patch. Looking back now, I bet our mom and sister must have been so embarrassed by the whole thing. I am feeling second-hand embarrassment just thinking about it!
Growing up, we never completely discarded the thought of having children. However, once we learned about environmental racism, and the devastating health consequences brought forth by air pollution and toxic waste polluting our soil, our dream felt further and further out of reach. It has been hard to imagine bringing a child into a world where reproductive justice feels so out of reach.
The thought of being pregnant and facing an emergency, knowing we might not be able to access proper medical care because reproductive care is so inaccessible, has consumed us with so much fear and frustration. Being at our most vulnerable and having doctors discuss our body without consulting or involving us, is deeply unsettling. Imagining that our health, or the health of our child, could be at risk because the systems that are supposed to protect us, are failing us. It is very disheartening to accept how deeply rooted inequalities within systems of power leave the most marginalized without support or access to healthcare. It is a painful reminder that individuals who need the most care are often the ones left behind, unable to receive the resources and protection they deserve.
During high school, we learned that environmental racism refers to the disproportionate exposure of environmental hazards on communities of color, particularly Indigenous, Latinx and Black communities. These marginalized groups are often subjected to live in areas with high levels of pollutants, toxic waste, and other environmental threats. This is driven by discriminatory policies that locate polluting industries near or in neighborhoods, all while simultaneously restricting access to environmental resources. Our senior year of highschool must have been the most pivotal year of our life, ultimately shaping the trajectory of our college career. We were involved with East Yard Communities for Environmental Justice (EYCEJ); we learned about committees that have taken up the relentless fight against environmental racism. We were in such awe of the elders in our community and younger generations advocating for cleaner air and soil clean up.
I hope we still love to watch the Wizard of Oz, we resonated so much with Dorothy Gale. There is no place like home, and our home is East Los Angeles. We are rooted in Chicanx pride, where the Mothers of East Los Angeles were established to fight for a community where children, no matter their background, can grow up in safety, in health, and in a community that nourishes their potential. The fight is not just for today, but for a tomorrow where every birth is supported, and every child has the chance to flourish in a healthy environment.
Lately, the decision to have kids has been weighing on my mind. I’m writing this letter so that, one day, you can read it and see how far we’ve come. We have gained so much knowledge. The choice to have children will ultimately be yours, future me, but I truly hope we do. I will always be your biggest supporter, and whatever choice we make, it will be with our health and well-being as the top priority.
I hope we are able to show this letter to our future child(ren) to show them how deeply we longed for them and how their future was made possible by the strength of our community.
I love you,
Your younger self at 21
