Everyone was scared of getting sick and dying from Covid-19 when the pandemic. While the lockdown brought some relief to the scared masses, others saw their livelihood in jeopardy. Not going to work meant they would not be able to afford their rent, a scarier thought than a possible death by Covid-19, and this is how brown and black people became essential workers. The term "essential worker" became elevated as brown people died in mass numbers, including immigrants. The country kept going because of immigrant workers.

According to the CDC, Latinos are almost twice as likely to die from Covid-19 than the white, Non-Hispanic population. For communities with primarily Latinos populations, like Riverside County in Southern California, whose half of the population is Latino, this is a scary statistic. Beyond worrying about the virus, the immigrant community within 100 miles of the border also had to live under the constant harassment of border patrol as they tried to make a living. So how was this community able to keep going despite the pandemic and the continuous harassment by officials that supported anti-immigrant rhetoric? As an immigrant, I have seen our resilience come from joy found in our everyday lives and unexpected places.

The media often portrays the immigrant community as workers or criminals. Our humanity is always valued by what our labor can do for this country. I wanted to photograph immigrants beyond their labor - I sought to capture their joy.

Over three months, I met with 16 immigrant workers in Riverside county. I met the amazing people in this project through the help of Luz Gallegos from the organization TODEC, located in the Coachella Valley. I asked the participants to talk to me about what brought them joy during the pandemic that helped them keep going. The participants took me to the place that brought them joy, dressed as they wished to be photographed, and wrote down what helped them keep going on bristol paper. Some participants could not write down more than their names; instead, I recorded their words for preservation. I wanted to photograph the participants how they wanted to be seen and share their own words straight from their mouths.

At the end of the project, it became clear that even though I am part of the immigrant community, I cannot claim the same hardships that less privileged immigrants have to go through in their daily lives. I questioned whether I was the right person to tell the participants' stories. Many projects like this are usually created by folks outside of these communities. They parachute into the communities to take without giving back. I did not want to take from them, I wanted them to show me what they wanted to share, and in exchange, I offered them my skill in the form of a family portrait or a print.

My hope for this project is to bring a new perspective to how we think about the immigrant community in the borderlands. We are more valuable to this society than the product of our labor. We are resilient, joyful people whose humanity deserves to be acknowledged.

You can read about this project in palabra.