In my freshman year of college, I was a part of a history research project. Its goal was to find out the history of Salinas and study its immigration patterns, discover what led our people here. The seeds planted into the nation, the blossoming of leaves that tell one story, find what made Saleh's home and books and maps. I was able to discover my own history and the history of the place I call home. A story where people of color worked in the fields where dreamers and descendants of slaves worked hand in hand. Jim Crow South meeting Oaxaca, blues, chicanos and Filipinos sharing stories of a home. They would probably never see again people who grew the city that now feeds the nation, something that hasn't changed is how they survived together. It didn't matter where you were from or who you have been. Salinas was a hotspot for hope. Through all of this, I realized that there are whispers of our city all over the world. Like history has shown we are the lighthouse in the distance calling lost men Home. It is a haven to the needy and it is all I have ever known. The city reminds me of my grandmother Abuelita stories from the fields and the little pink church my family went to as Children, cardboard hill and my mother a little girl too afraid to go down old Lynn Creek, the running water long forgotten Williams to Ryder a shortcut home vincenti Fernandez on the driving screen. Carloads with secret passenger stowed away, waiting for the stars to come out daylight, bringing the flea market with vendors with euros and tamales and bootleg mixtapes hoping that one day they could be a star too. This is what community looked like. A family that struggled but they struggled together. Now they call it progress and we are left to wonder that we really progress. Old photographs, the only memento to know that we were here. Our legacy is written for every war. Every harvest, every storm we have stood as our people did before us. We remember that there have always been hardships and tests light. When the dawn breaks. When the storms came, we rebuilt. We forgave. We remembered why our grandparents were settled on this land. Whether it was fighting for unions or better pay or the right to settle on the land we founded Salinas has never been afraid of battle. I remember that my ancestors were enslaved and dreamers. That I am not the bounty taken after the war. I am a dream come true that this city like me never stops fighting. That to be from Salinas means blood. It means fighting. It means beating our feet into the fields like the rhythms of Aztec dancers. Not forgetting where we come from. The sacrifices that permitted our feet on this land. This past year has taken so much from us. But even through this pandemic, it has been hard. We have pushed harder. In the wake of morning we wiped our tears and walked again. We are a city of refugees taking their final step into freedom, a story spread over borders when there was no hope in sight, We relied on blessings prayers in a helping hand and our worst. We came together reminded ourselves of what makes Salinas home. Even after all this loss, we are reminded that we still have each other, our streets, our neighborhoods and the Children who use broken pavements as playgrounds. Hope in the most unlikable places. Dreamers all around with aspirations so big you can almost touch them. Our city sings worship songs through the night and the drumbeats of war refusing to back down from any fight. And I know we will not back down from this one. Veterans with legacies far longer than lifespan. Soldiers on our streets with no homes to go to first generation students with spanish speaking parents still holding on to a dream. Generations built single mothers and honorable Children always beating the odds. A black second girl with a big mouth and so much to say, hoping someone will hear it. The kind of people that Salinas has built all around with stories of triumph. David beating Goliath Dorothy finding her way back home, Salinas and the people who live here standing strong. No one can take this from us, our roots, our stories, our dreams, new people will come with homes to match and we will watch and remember through change, who we are. The secret is designated to the people who love and live here, The settlers to a land that has impacted the world but been forgotten. We won't forget we will rise as we always do, how we always have. And we will begin again in our fields, our homes, our schools, in the streets, and with each other from those books, those maps and stories, the routes that make this home. I learned that from our history. Above all else, it means Selena's will persevere. We always have.