Opinion | Stepping into the world of investigative journalism as a Mexican American reporter came with challenges, but also many rewards
“I was destined to toil in the soil — even if my 10-year-old self would have rejected the idea. As a kid, I was determined to escape after-school and weekend weeding and raking alongside my father, a gardener who landscaped homes in Santa Barbara, California, where I was born and raised.
“Study and go to college,” my no-nonsense mom would say whenever I complained about getting up at dawn on Saturdays to work.
Mom worked as a housekeeper, and my sisters and I were expected to pitch in on both of my parents’ jobs. All I wanted was to bury my head in books. My favorite teacher, years later, recalled how he’d arrive at school in the morning to find my fifth-grade self patiently sitting outside the library waiting to check out another pile of books…”
