This April, Barrio Voices celebrates National Poetry Month by uplifting poets who speak to our histories, identities, and struggles. We honor Sandra Cisneros, whose words in The House on Mango Street opened doors for Chicanx and Latinx writers in classrooms across the country; Rodolfo “Corky” Gonzales, whose poem I Am Joaquín became a rallying cry of the Chicano Movement; and Yesika Salgado, a Salvadoran poet whose books and performances celebrate family, culture, and body positivity.

Each of these voices shows us that poetry is not only art, but also resistance, healing, and empowerment.

From the raw flows of Snow Tha Product, representing Mexican-American women with authenticity and pride, to the groundbreaking work of Gloria Anzaldúa, who redefined feminism through a Chicana and queer lens, to the visionary scholarship of Kimberlé Crenshaw, who introduced the world to intersectionality, these women remind us that empowerment comes in many forms. Their voices challenge stereotypes, expand movements, and inspire us to keep pushing forward.

By Yahaira Mayen

I am the ruca, from the block that proudly puts on the dickies, lace up the Nike Cortez,

put on my good hoops as if it’s a crown.

Add the color red to my luscious lips

Soy chigona y chicana

Not your average girl.

By Yahaira Mayen

I’m drained,

More than the battery on my phone and my laptop

I want to rest my head,

But the paper and pen never rest

This Black History Month, we honor leaders past and present who challenge injustice and inspire change. From the bold activism of the Black Panther Party to the powerful words of Amanda Gorman and the lasting impact of Tupac Shakur, their voices remind us that art, courage, and community are forces for justice.

In the silence of quarantine, the streets of San Jose longed for hydros and oldies. Lowriders returned, reviving cultura and memory, with cruise nights rolling low and slow through Story and King, Salinas, and even Hollister. More than cars, these gatherings became a reminder that lowriding has always been about community, resilience, and our own vision of the American dream.

Names carry power. Once I was Silencio, quiet, watchful, learning from the varrio. But that name no longer fit. Today I go by Velaz, a name earned with responsibility, light, and service. Just like our elders reclaim names to connect with cultura and identity, we too must define who we are. Until my vela is put out, I’ll keep bringing light and warmth to my community.

La tinta has always been my homie. When silence was forced on me, I turned to the pen and found my voice. Sharing my poetry showed me that words can drop walls, spark change, and carry our stories beyond us. Writing is testimony, memory, and proof that our stories matter.