I had a dream once - a dream of being an Elf. I wasn’t a privileged or popular kid by any means. I grew up poor in a mountain town in Puerto Rico, fighting to find my voice. Dreaming of one day existing in places from which myself and my people had been shut out. This Elven dream of mine seemed like an impossibility, as I was laughed at and told “You can’t be an Elf. There are no Black Elves. There are no Latino Elves.” I was told it was a ridiculous pursuit, almost convinced. So I buried it deep, to the place where I hid most of the dreams I was forced to give up, by virtue of all the ruthless oppression that crushed me and those like me. It was reinforced that outside of striving to have the bare minimum and having to be okay with being silent and invisible, people like me couldn’t partake in that world -or most of the world, for that matter. Although I kept that dream quite hidden, I dedicated my life to finding that voice that was taken away from me and mine. I continued to fight against every single odd, and there were many. It seemed like an impossibility, many times, but I believed in my right, and our right, to exist. Just like the rest. To see ourselves, to imagine ourselves, and to occupy the spaces that we rightfully deserved; to claim our humanity, to be seen as subjects and treated as participants. Every day, for decades, tirelessly, sacrificing everything and more - family, friends, country, relationships, you name it - I’ve continued this quest in the hope that I would make it at least a little bit easier for someone else. And perhaps inspire at least one person to do the same. In there I kept my Elven dream alive. And here I am. Black, Latino, Puerto Rican, proud, and Elven AF. You better catch that arrow and aim it as high as you can. 🏹🏹💚