When the headlines in my hometown became “children in cages” and “site of our nation’s sixth largest mass shooting”, I knew I had to go back. Violence and stigma towards immigrants raged that summer. I listened to how the word “border” transformed into a limit, a boundary, a means to keep people out – a constant reminder of “otherness”. So in 2019 after high school graduation, I packed my bags and returned to Texas.
For nearly two years I stayed in El Paso. I served as a videographer, graphic designer and photographer for an immigration organization. Attorneys, advocates and asylum seekers, from all over the world, came to this crossing and I documented the scenes that unfolded.
In 2021, I received a US State Department fellowship to live in Germany for year. Having witnessed repressive US immigration policies, I was curious about the treatment of migrants in other parts of the world. My internship with a search and rescue boat brought me to the Greek island of Lesvos. We captured stories of Afghan, Syrian, and African asylum seekers stranded at a camp known as New Moria. At the time of our arrival, the invasion of Ukraine was just a month old. The media quickly showed Ukrainian refugees being met with open arms. Europeans waited at train stations to offer free accommodation in their homes, and countries who claimed they had “no more room” suddenly did. Back at New Moria, this enthusiasm was not matched. Those I had met said they felt forgotten.
When I returned to the United States in 2022, I joined the Haitian Bridge Alliance team as the Communications Coordinator.
At HBA, our work stretches from the borderlands to the White House to the United Nations. Several times a year, I travel across Mexico and throughout the United States documenting the work of this remarkable team and the Haitian and Pan-African communities we serve. I balance this work concurrently while being a full-time college student.
I have not been everywhere, but it’s on my list. 15 countries and counting. At the same time, I believe just as deeply in returning to the same places again and again, so I can see the places and people that made me so happy the first time.
After hiding it for so long, my best friend Jacob came out to me as a stand-up comedian. He had been performing in secret for almost a year at that point. After watching his first show, I eagerly asked to watch more and eventually that led to me taking photos at his comedy shows and open mics across Providence for several months.
The shows happened in pizza shops on Federal Hill, tattoo parlors in Olneyville, and cocktail bars hosting Ladies’ Night in the center of downtown. In this series, you will see a small progression of how a show ran. It began with comedians milling around before the mic started — cigarettes in hand, drinks to steady their nerves as they chatted in small clusters. Many were regulars who exchanged easy banter with the other regulars, but very few were quite friends. They preferred to remain as just performers orbiting the same late-night universe.
Leading up closer to show time, they’d steal a quiet moment to review their sets, scribbling last-minute edits into battered notebooks or their Notes app. At open mics, each comedian had five minutes — for actual shows, the headliners could perform up to 30 minutes. Once the mic began, the room filled frequently with confessions about exes, sex lives, existential spirals, and insecurities. Audience members who were eager to become part of the bit would chime in unannounced or take the bait of a wandering question.
When the night wrapped up, the comics drifted back outside nearly the same way they began: smoking, laughing, and either cringing at their set or quietly proud of how it went. An actual “after-party” only happened once while I was there — at the Olneyville New York System hot dog joint. Many slipped out quickly after their post-show cigarette burned out.
As an observer, I was learning a lot, and for us non-performers, I’d urge you to check out this local scene for yourself. Comedy teaches you how to tell a story with intention, how to pace a punchline so it lands in the most unexpected but impactful way, how to read a room, how to take a risk, how to bomb and try again, and ultimately, how to make people care enough to keep listening.
