Los Angeles 2023

Los Angeles 2020

Meet the people who joined us in San Francisco in 2017

San Francisco 2017

New York 2017

Meet the people who joined us in Los Angeles in 2017

Los Angeles 2017

Austin 2017

<img loading="lazy" decoding="async" class="size-medium wp-image-6075 alignleft" src="https://iswi.wpengine.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/04/Byron-Gomez-585x780-1-225x300-1.jpeg" alt="" width="225" height="300" />Long before Chef Byron Gomez competed on Bravo’s Top Chef, he worked in casual dining. It was a step up from his previous job at a fast food chain, where he began his cooking career. Undocumented and in his teens, Byron had a confrontation while working that he says he will never forget.
Byron was working at the grill station when a co-worker began arguing with him. “He kind of had it out for me just because he saw me coming up the ranks,” Byron said.
As they passed by each other in the kitchen, the coworker dropped a hotel pan down that splashed Byron with steak blood. “I took a deep breath and reminded myself it’s the kitchen, and sometimes things get heated,” Byron said.
Then, the coworker kicked the metal pan at Byron.
“A hotel pan has very sharp, thin edges, and that ended up cutting my leg,” he said.
As Byron bled, his coworker looked at him and said, “You think you can amount to something? You’re an immigrant. You will never be past a line cook.”
“In that moment I was so mad,” Byron said. “But a few days later, I said, ‘You know what? I am going to prove this guy wrong.’” 
Byron used the experience as motivation: to reach the highest levels possible as a chef, and to show people what immigrants and people from Costa Rica are about. As a DACA recipient, Byron is a shining example of immigrants adding immeasurable value to our country. 
He’s worked at 1-star, 2-star, and 3-star Michelin restaurants, and he represented his home country of Costa Rica on Bravo’s Top Chef Season 18.
“I always wanted to better myself. Not only for my personal growth, but for those around me,” Byron said. “Knowing that my parents gave up so much to come to a new country, it was that fear of failing them.”
Byron said there are two distinct reasons that he was drawn to cooking. He joked, “I think cooking chose me, I didn’t really choose cooking.”
“Growing up in Costa Rica, all the family would be picked up and brought to my house on Sundays,” he said.
His family gathered weekly to watch the local soccer league and cook. And Byron loved to sneak into the kitchen. “I would be almost underneath the table and the ladies would be talking, and I’d eat little pieces of food and they’d start to give me tastes of this and that,” he recalled.
But when Byron came to the U.S., all of that stopped: “All of that got stripped away. It’s only now a memory. So cooking is a way for me to give back. And maybe part of that is yearning for that feeling I might not ever get back.”
The other factor that drove the chef was his sister. Growing up, Byron’s older sister was an honor roll student who had opportunities for college lining up. But because of her immigration status, she couldn’t access in-state tuition. “We couldn’t afford that. And that was the end of that road for her. I saw that and it really resonated with me. I told myself I have to do something different,” he said.
Byron said after working at places like casual dining restaurants and hotels, he moved to New York with $800 dollars in his pocket. By the year 2014, he was working at his first Michelin-starred restaurant, Café Boulud. That’s when Byron first heard of DACA. 
“I felt a little iffy about it. I wondered if this was a trap to get my information and then they’ll come by and pick everyone up,” Byron said. “Now, I’m a prime product of why this came into play.”
DACA in some ways allowed Byron to come out of the shadows regarding his identity, as he was protected from deportation. “It’s taken away a little bit of having to live a life in fear. It’s taken a load off so I can tell someone, ‘Hey, this is who I am,’” Byron said.
Byron continued to work his way up in the culinary world and became the sous chef at Eleven Madison Park, one of 14 restaurants in the country with three Michelin stars. In 2017, it was also named the World’s Best Restaurant while Byron was there: “I am pretty sure I was the only sous chef in the world from Costa Rica who ever worked at number one restaurant.”
“After being at Eleven Madison Park, I didn’t think I could top that. Then Top Chef came around and changed my life,” he said.
Byron jumped at the opportunity to cook and share his story with a national audience. “I was 32 years old when I did the show. And you know, society paints this picture that by that age, you&#8217;re supposed to have your [stuff] together,” he said.
Byron continued, “There is so much compacted into those eight weeks of filming, but the thing I struggled with the most was thinking, ‘Who am I?’”
His competitors had clear culinary specialties: Japanese, Sonoran, Mexican and so on. “And then you have me. I’m from Costa Rica but I don’t really cook Costa Rican food. I’m here in the U.S. but I’m not really from the U.S,” he said.
“My forte was French technique, but I like Southeast Asian Flavors. So I kept thinking, ‘Where do I fit into this competition? What is my story?’”
Byron fell just short of winning the Top Chef competition, but he considered his representation as the first DACA recipient on the show as a success. 
“How Costa Rican am I? Maybe not enough for some people. But how American am I? Maybe not enough either, especially because I don’t have my citizenship here. But that never stopped me from trying to keep on climbing,” he said. 
While Byron cannot return to his childhood memories, he is inspiring his family and others like him through his culinary journey. He’s also reminding the nation of the value that immigrants bring to the U.S.
“In Costa Rica, I was featured on a show called ‘National Pride of Costa Rica’ and it was so humbling,” Byron said. “I get calls from people in Costa Rica saying congratulations, and people telling me my parents should feel very proud. And I think that was part of the plan. For my parents to feel like they’ve made the sacrifice for their children and we’ve made them proud.”
Byron hopes to one day write a memoir to chronicle his life: “As a sort of trailblazer, it’s scary to try and pave the way for others. But I consider myself an example of like, ‘Hey, if I did it, you could. Anybody could,’” he said.

Byron Gomez

<img loading="lazy" decoding="async" class="size-medium wp-image-6069 alignleft" src="https://iswi.wpengine.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/04/ada-1.jpeg" alt="" width="240" height="300" />Former Miami Judge Ada Pozo is a powerful Latina, fierce immigration attorney, and current co-host of Kevin O’Leary’s CNBC show, “Money Court.” 
“One thing led to another and next thing you know, I&#8217;m sitting in Telemundo studios in Miami, filming next to Mr. Wonderful,” Ada said.
On “Money Court,” Ada advises people dealing with financial disputes — some worth millions of dollars. “Not only are we helping them, I think we get a chance to educate the public,” she said.
Ada comes from a long line of public servants in Cuba. As an attorney, media personality, and former judge, she’s supported and represented countless individuals. 
“My parents came in 1959. They were refugees from Cuba. They came fleeing the Castro dictatorship like so many others.  My grandfather was actually the mayor of Havana when Castro came in and took over. And my father was the country&#8217;s equivalent of the surgeon general,” Ada said. “He was a doctor who was at the top of his game and he had to pick up and come here with nothing — just the shirt on his back, basically. He barely spoke English.”
Ada’s dad delivered dry cleaning by day and learned English at night. He went to the University of Miami and became a doctor here in the U.S. Her mom was an actress in Cuba, and seamstress in the U.S. They were able to help Ada and her sister go to college for their undergraduate and law degrees.
“My father passed away 15 years ago, but he did get to see me become a judge. He put my judicial robe on me at my investiture and it was pretty special,” she said.
<img loading="lazy" decoding="async" class="size-medium wp-image-6070 alignleft" src="https://iswi.wpengine.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/04/ada-3.jpeg" alt="" width="300" height="210" />During Ada’s undergraduate years, she took an internship at the Miami-Dade County public defender’s office that set her on her path: “When people were explaining things to me on the first day, I wasn’t listening to a word they were saying because I was just so excited to be there.”
Later on, Ada went to law school and returned to that same public defender’s office as a trial lawyer. “I used to laugh that I grew up at the county jail because I really did. I was 20 when I started, and by the time I left, I was married with my oldest son already,” she said.
After she was a Miami-Dade County court judge, Ada gravitated towards immigration law: “I fell in love with being able to help clients that I empathize so much with. So many of my clients reminded me of my own parents that were here. Not because they wanted to feed off the system or commit crimes, but because they had to flee their homes. Some were going to be persecuted or killed. For reasons as simple as being gay or being the wrong religion.”
As a mother, Ada worried about her kids losing touch with her family’s Cuban roots. “They didn’t experience the struggles of a parent who couldn’t help them with their homework because they didn’t speak the language,” she said. “But they are proud of being Hispanic. And I’m proud of them for not forgetting who they are, even though at times it wasn’t the popular thing to be.”
Now, both of her kids are in college. They speak Spanish, and are a part of Hispanic student organizations. Ada misses them, and recently said goodbye to her daughter when she left for college. “I’m counting the days down till Thanksgiving,” she said. 
Until then, she’ll continue fighting for individuals as an immigration attorney, and giving financial advice to all of America on CNBC’s “Money Court.”

Ada Pozo

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First, Ravi lost his father in 2008. Then, he lost his best friend in 2010. By 2012, Ravi’s mother was sick and Ravi had a decision to make: either continue down his “toxic” path of partying or make a change to be there for his loved ones.
“I thought my mom might have had cancer. She wasn’t diagnosed yet. So I made a promise at the end of 2012 that if my mom was alright, that I would change my lifestyle,” Ravi said. 

After his mom recovered, Ravi set out to visit a friend in California who was eating an organic, plant-based diet. Ravi said he fasted and meditated for months after his trip to California. That trip marked Ravi’s turning point: from a detached father to devoted community member, parent, and founder of a cultural collective called SOLWAVE. Ravi’s story of turning his life around by connecting with culture proves that if one is feeling lost, one can look to where they came from for the strength to move forward.
“Eating plant-based vegan food put me on another vibration where I started getting in touch with my roots. My father was from India and my mom was from the Philippines. So the diet was more aligned, and I started getting into yoga — it was the beginning of getting reconnected,” Ravi said.
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When Ravi returned home to Queens, he moved into a new apartment, continued eating plant-based, and practiced yoga and meditation often. “That [trip] woke something up in me. Something clicked and I realized certain truths around me,” Ravi said. “After that, I kind of went on a mission for a couple of years where I didn&#8217;t watch TV. I just read a lot of books and watched a lot of documentaries. I was doing a lot of yoga. It was a quest to get in tune with myself and my spirit.”
Ravi said that he was unpacking certain ways of doing things. He began to wonder, “Why do I drink liquor? Why do I eat the way I eat?” amongst other thoughts. 
Some of his questions connected back to his identity: “Because I&#8217;m half Indian and half Filipino, I&#8217;ve always been kind of in the middle of things. Because of that, my path leads me to question the norms.”
Yoga has helped Ravi recenter himself and strengthen his connection to his father’s culture. Another large part of Ravi’s journey has been strengthening his relationships with his children. “I&#8217;m a parent of four, you know. My son is 15, and my daughters are 13, 11, and five,” Ravi said.
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Ravi began to take his daughters to the beach often, and started to teach them how to surf. He and his son now run marathons together. “Last week we did a 5k [run] and two weeks before that we did a five mile run,” he said. 
Ravi can even get his kids to do yoga with him on a good day. He encourages them to connect with their culture to recenter themselves just as he has.
Now, Ravi is building community through SOLWAVE, a collective he co-founded that promotes healing, food, and art in New York. “It’s a play on duality as far as sol being the sun and wave being the water. They are two opposing forces. But they’re one in the same — and you’ve got to appreciate the light in the dark.”
As Ravi&#8217;s journey continues on, he faces challenges like parenting during the pandemic and in the age of social media. But just as he had hope at the end of 2012, he has the same pervasive hope to build a stronger, well-rooted community for his children.

Ravi

<img loading="lazy" decoding="async" class="size-medium wp-image-5944 alignleft" src="https://iswi.wpengine.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/04/6.28.21-11-v2-scaled.jpg" alt="" width="200" height="300" />“It all started with one of those DNA kits to just see where we come from. It inspired me to sit down and make a family tree, because I’ll be able to share those messages with future generations.”
Demaurey Drummond is a corporate lawyer in Denver, Colorado, whose family story goes back decades and spans oceans. He has roots that trace back to Jamaica; roots that he is piecing together through a family tree.
“I think the pandemic has only made conversations and time spent together that much more important,” he said.
Against the backdrop of COVID-19, Demaurey did not let physical distance hinder his connection to his family. His family tree started to provide answers: suddenly, there was an explanation for why he and his siblings all worked in community-related services. Demaurey began to see that his family tree bore the fruit of intergenerational strength, long cultivated by the generations before him.
“What stood out to me [was] hearing those details about my great grandparents and how the legacy was built,” Demaurey said, “and hearing how my great grandfather was a mason in Jamaica who was building houses, and how my grandfather just comes close to tears when he&#8217;s talking about him.”
In tears, Demaurey’s grandfather explained that his own father made sure he learned a trade.
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Demaurey said, “Growing up and seeing my grandfather with his own business as a plumber really inspired me. And it really is fulfilling to be
a part of that legacy now as an entrepreneur myself.”
But Demaurey’s life as a corporate lawyer for his tax resolution company lies in stark contrast to the reality for previous generations of his family.
“I talked to my grandmother about the biggest issue before starting a family, and she said finding a place to live was the biggest challenge. She recalled these stories of walking for miles with a bucket just to get water and bring it back so that they&#8217;d be able to cook. It’s these stories that will stick with me forever.” 
Stories of resilience and sacrifice are just part of his family’s legacy. As he put together the family tree, Demaurey discovered that his family had also long been community-oriented.
“My grandmother said she was using the strength of her neighbors to help raise the children back in Jamaica. Understanding how they relied on the community so much back then is just a full circle moment because I see my siblings and I doing the same. We take pride in building networks that revolve around one person helping the other.”
<img loading="lazy" decoding="async" class="size-medium wp-image-5946 alignleft" src="https://iswi.wpengine.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/04/6.28.21-20-v2.jpg" alt="" width="200" height="300" />As Demaurey connected his family’s past in Jamaica and New York to his present in Colorado, he thought about the future: “I think my family will represent love of family and love of community. And stories from my family and grandparents are things I hold onto very dearly.”
For many immigrant families, a sense of home is not connected to a physical place. Instead, the feeling oftentimes is connected to people, stories, and memories passed down through time.
Demaurey said, “It is hard to speak on behalf of all immigrants. But an experience migrating from one country to another brings an added layer of togetherness that can&#8217;t be duplicated. I think that combination of work ethic plus family togetherness is the ultimate recipe for building for the next generation.”

Demaurey Drummond

<h3>Breaking the boundaries: Caliph’s newest album conveys life as a Black Muslim immigrant</h3>
&nbsp;
“I’m a Black Muslim immigrant. These are three things you’re not supposed to be here in this country.”
<div id="attachment_5924" style="width: 381px" class="wp-caption alignleft"><img loading="lazy" decoding="async" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-5924" class=" wp-image-5924" src="https://iswi.wpengine.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/04/Caliph_IOTY_Front-scaled.jpg" alt="Cover art from Caliph’s newest album Immigrant of the Year, released on May 21, 2021." width="371" height="371" />Cover art from Caliph’s newest album Immigrant of the Year, released on May 21, 2021.</div>
Those are the words of Grammy-winning recording artist Caliph. Born in Senegal, Caliph released his newest album Immigrant of the Year on May 21. He went from losing his job because of DACA application delays to recording a Grammy-winning album. His newest album embodies his journey and his message: mental health is crucial, especially for immigrants.
“This is about the trauma we go through as immigrants and having to act like everything&#8217;s okay,” he said. What matters to him is “if this album can make [a] younger version of me or anyone going through mental health issues know that they can push through whatever they’re going through.”
At six years old, Caliph immigrated to New Bedford, Massachusetts.“There were Cape Verdeans, Africans, Hispanics, and Portuguese [immigrants]— it was pretty much an immigrant community,” he said, “I felt at home.”   
In sixth grade, Caliph said he won a scholarship to University of Massachusetts, Dartmouth. But because of his immigration status, Caliph had no social security number. And because of his status, the opportunity fell through, he said.
Caliph said, “Seeing my parents and seeing how they reacted to that bothered me because they pretty much sacrificed their whole lives for me to be here and get an education.”
<div id="attachment_5925" style="width: 291px" class="wp-caption alignleft"><img loading="lazy" decoding="async" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-5925" class=" wp-image-5925" src="https://iswi.wpengine.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/04/Liph-5.jpg" alt="Caliph was born in Senegal and has Cape Verdean, Portuegese and Guinean heritage. He moved to the U.S. at six, and now lives in Los Angeles." width="281" height="419" />Caliph was born in Senegal and has Cape Verdean, Portuegese and Guinean heritage. He moved to the U.S. at six, and now lives in Los Angeles.</div>
Soon, Caliph said he turned to his music as a way to improve his mental health and speak out. “There’s no one in hip hop that is representing what I just experienced or speaking to this pain I’m feeling,” he explained. “I found that music was my way to turn those things into something positive.”
In 2017, Caliph had DACA, or Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals. DACA offers protection from deportation and work authorization for immigrants brought to the United States as children. 
DACA recipients, or Dreamers, must apply for the program and reapply every two years. “When Trump got into office, I had to reapply for my DACA. And that usually takes two to three months. That year it took eight months. So for some of that time, I was back to being [undocumented],” Caliph explained.
He and his cousin both lost their jobs when they fell out of status. They struggled to make ends meet. “Our savings dwindled and we [were] having trouble paying our bills in the 
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winter time,” Caliph continued, “It was all these different experiences all at the same time — it felt like the world was going to cave in.”
Around that time, Doug Davis, a music industry executive and entertainment lawyer, reached out to Caliph on Twitter. Shortly thereafter Caliph said, “he sends me a message about this album and flies me out to Miami the next day.”
Caliph went to record vocals for the three-time Grammy award-winning album American Dreamers: Voices of Hope, Music of Freedom. Caliph said, “I was supposed to do one verse on one song, but I ended up on six songs.”
Caliph shows no sign of slowing down his ascension as an artist. And his newest album affirms that he is filling gaps in the hip hop industry with every song that he writes and every immigrant experience he details.
When asked about what he’s excited for in the future, Caliph didn’t mention an award or audience metric. Instead, he said, “I’m excited about seeing people find more avenues to get mental health [support]. There’s a lot of stigma in our communities about that. But the ultimate goal is for our people to feel good about themselves and push through, and it all starts there.”
<div id="attachment_5923" style="width: 1034px" class="wp-caption aligncenter"><img loading="lazy" decoding="async" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-5923" class="wp-image-5923 size-large" src="https://iswi.wpengine.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/04/Caliph_IOTY_Back-scaled.jpg" alt="The back cover of Immigrant of the Year lists all ten tracks on the album and features Caliph’s signature." width="1024" height="1024" />The back cover of Immigrant of the Year lists all ten tracks on the album and features Caliph’s signature.</div>

Caliph

Influencer, founder, and magazine editor, Igee Okafor is New York’s latest fashion extraordinaire. His vision to create menswear and a lifestyle brand has taken him all over the world, and he’s just 26. After launching <a href="http://igeeokafor.com" target="_blank" rel="noopener">IgeeOkafor.com</a>, he decided to expand his creative endeavors and thus, BOND OFFICIAL magazine was born, focusing on modern men and their stories. “Manhood and masculinity means being vulnerable enough to embrace every part of yourself. Growing up, I didn’t see a lot of color as it pertains to the personalities that I was seeing as man, there was one definition and it doesn’t help when you have publications like the “GQ’s” and the “Details”, doing a great job, but still emphasizing this one type of man. I really just wanted to create a space that advocates for a variety of men.”
<img loading="lazy" decoding="async" class="size-medium wp-image-5829 alignleft" src="https://iswi.wpengine.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/04/Igee_sq-1.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="300" />While Igee’s exposure to colorful male personalities was lackluster, it certainly showed up in every other aspect of his life being born and raised in Nigeria. As most people do, he lauded his motherland’s people, music, food, and culture. It’s a place that reveres family and community and have razor focus on their dreams. Going to boarding school there until he was 15, instilled a sort of militaristic drive in him. “It was very academic. It was very competitive. It was definitely very strict military, ‘this is how things are done. This is what tradition is. this is what you should aspire to become.’ And everything was very much in that line, not too different from how I see things in New York.” Igee’s parents were very open-minded and stoked his dreams, allowing him to build his own creative intelligence. After moving to the United States, his town of Hampton, Virginia was introduced to a new kind of personality. “People there really didn’t have the concept of culture. They didn’t understand how I would speak or they had these pre-conceived notions of what it was like to be from Africa and live there.” However, after a few short weeks, Igee invested himself in the school culture, joining the step team, dance team, marketing club, and drama club — focusing on honing his creative spirit. 
During that time, media sites Tumblr and Lookbook.nu were popular. With street-fashion photography and youth culture plastered all over the sites, Igee was hooked, developing his aesthetic eye that would inform how he works with photographers and creates his images today. While attending St. John’s University in Queens, New York, he worked in digital marketing at one of the most popular influencer marketing agencies, Socialite, as well as The 88 and Plus One, where his passion for account directing and producing and creating content with brands was amplified. Realizing he wanted to run his own agency on his own terms, he created his website, with the help of his mom. “I thought I was going to be a dancer and be in musical theater for some reason as a profession. But after I graduated, she said, you need to put this on hold for a second and really think about what you want to do. So I told her, ‘Oh, I like what these people are doing with their blogs on Tumblr and Lookbook,’ and she’s like, ‘well, then you should start yours. I’ll fund it.’ She gave me two weeks to get it done. She was very supportive. My dad didn’t get it, but now he does.” 
Now taking over the art direction, mood boarding, location scouting, and even how the image is taken, Igee is extremely hands on with all of his projects. “Even though I would like more of a collaboration, I just find that with the way that I like to do things, it’s just better. We don’t waste a lot of time trying to figure it out versus knowing what will work from my experience.” And with that, his campaigns were underway, securing 5 campaigns every week. However, burn out is real. It happens when you’re not resting or given the right tools or resources to be able to create something that’s authentic. Igee knows he’s hard on himself, so he structured his life with more balance. “Say this week, we have a full production week, I take the entire next week off and I make it a point to look on Youtube to follow other content creators and see what they’re doing, watch a documentary or movie, because inspiration comes out of everywhere. Even meeting up with people to just catch up and see what they’re interested in, learn new things. It’s how I get over those creative blocks.” 
While work slowed down a bit when the pandemic began, he is thankful to still have steady work coming in. “My end goal is to have my own men’s clothing brand/lifestyle. I really adore what people like Ralph Lauren and Tom Ford have been able to do with their brands, not only in the clothing department, but they have fragrances, home accessories, even films. I would like to see someone who looks like me who has been able to accomplish all of these things as well. I think there’s this thing in the Black community where it’s been this way for so long where we just never felt like we could really make a sustainable career out of being a creative photographer, art director, whatever it is. I think it would be really telling to have someone or a variety of people in our community accomplish what the likes of Ralph Lauren and Tom Ford have been able to do.” As so many others before Igee have said, if you look good, you feel good. His mission to get men to embrace fashion is what drives him. “You don’t have to be into fashion to embrace it. If you put on a shirt and you don’t think it’s the most fashionable, it’s still fashion. It’s a shirt that was designed and put up for sale, but if you feel great and it feels like you’re being represented accurately &#8212; you’re supposed to feel good and feel like your personality is is being authenticated.”
Igee’s mantra is “anything is possible.” Focus and no distractions. A strong mentality and work ethic, can propel you further every day. Celebrate your successes, no matter how big or small. “I feel like I have a lot more of the United States to experience, but so far what I’ve seen is they embrace and move forward, whether that’s with gay rights, or women’s rights — everything. With a place like New York City, the culture is based on embracing diversity in every way. I think that’s what I love most about New York City is the amount of options we have to do whatever we want. If something is not for you, you can always find something that is.”

Igee Okafor

Entrepreneurs, much like immigrants, often bring fresh ideas that stimulate minds and the economy. For Tracy Garley, the pursuit to create products and services and help others learn and succeed is innate. As Co-Founder + CEO of <a href="http://gofundher.com">GoFundHer.com</a>, Founder of City Girls Big Dreams, Zarkpa’s and Head Chef at “Culture in a Bowl,” she is redefining any lazy misconceptions of who immigrants are. Growing up in a time when immigrants were running Motor City, whether it be the gas or restaurant industry, Tracy was surrounded by the work hard mentality, and the dedication and drive that immigrants bring. Detroit is a melting pot with a storied past, and Tracy has worked endlessly to be a part of their and New York City’s developing future. 
<img loading="lazy" decoding="async" class="size-medium wp-image-5823 alignleft" src="https://iswi.wpengine.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/04/Story-Square_Tracy_Garley-under1mb-1.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="300" />When Tracy was living on the West Side of Detroit, there was a mass exodus from the city to the suburbs. And while she didn’t feel safe in her neighborhood, she knew the move to the United States and leaving behind her 14 year war-torn country of Liberia was a blessing and lesson. In the summer of 2002, Tracy’s parents were celebrating an American Dream accomplishment, buying their first house on the West Side of Detroit. At that time in Detroit, kids would ride their bikes and go to Belle Isle Park, an island full of educational and recreational activities like an aquarium and “a cultural classic and necessary for any Detroiter.” However, this side of town left her family and neighborhood traumatized after three of her dad’s friends left the party and were shot. It was a memory that brought her back to her childhood in West Africa. “I was born in the civil war in West Africa and my parents had to grow up at such a young age. By 1993, we had to leave Liberia and moved to Ivory Coast, I remembered speaking French at a very young age. In September 1997, I remember when we first got back to Liberia and my mom told me I was home. I couldn’t believe what I saw. I remember seeing bullet holes in buildings and thinking to myself, ‘wow this country looks nothing like the last country I came from.’” But by December 30th, 2000, Tracy arrived at JFK Airport in New York City and saw snow for the first time. “I was excited and scared at the same time. Here I was this little girl from West Africa Liberia coming to America. That’s when I knew God had brought me to the United States for a reason.
“My household was like any African household…where my parents brought Africa to America.” She’d often say ‘no’ to her parents’ request to become a nurse and she instead worked on cooking Liberian dishes with her late aunt Phyllis and focused on going to school for International Business. Then in 2014, Tracy opened the doors of her first business, “Zarkpa’s” in the heart of downtown Detroit. The store was a 25th birthday gift from her parents and decided on Zarkpa’s because it is the namesake of her paternal grandmother in Liberia meaning “debt-free.” As the first new retail clothing store to open in the city of Detroit after it had to file for bankruptcy, Tracy made it her mission to ensure they were open everyday and that they brought energy to the downtown area. “I collaborated with other entrepreneurs to host events such as ‘Positive Tea Party,&#8217; ‘Sip &amp; Shop,’ and pop-up shops. Then in 2017, I decided to move Zarkpa’s to e-commerce, with a focus on exposing the world to the intricacies and diversity of West African fashion through custom apparel, handbags, and accessories.” 
Shortly after this successful venture, Tracy was enjoying an evening run on the Detroit River Walk when she looked at the skyline of Canada and Detroit and the phrase, City Girl with Big Dreams popped up in her head. “I did what any millennial would do, checked on Instagram to see if the name was available.” Thus another business began, where Tracy would showcase the vibrant and thriving side of Detroit — hosting popup shops with other women entrepreneurs and operating an all year round entrepreneurship internship with college and high school girls. “I was using my power and didn’t even know it; that’s what happens when you want other women to win.” 
With that, she created <a href="http://gofundher.com" target="_blank" rel="noopener">gofundher.com</a> as a sister company to CGBD — both dedicated to the causes of girls and women. Dedicated to supporting powerful ambitious girls and women to achieve success through financial literacy. They direct deposit funds to these women and through the success of these two companies, are able to create a real and sustainable financial platform designed by women, for women. “We are here to enlighten, empower, and inspire women’s dreams to come true.” Tracy’s life centers around inspiring others to chose their dreams, and being a Black woman, means everything to her. “I want to be an example for other little Black girls out there and let them know they can’t do anything if they put their mind to it. And it is okay to be the first one to do something, that is what leaders do. We start trends.” Part of the leadership Tracy wants to bring to others is back in Liberia, where she hopes to open a factory for her West African clothing store, Zarkpa’s. “I want my team and I to teach young women different business skills and help them get on their feet and start living their dreams with money in their pockets.” 
When the pandemic hit, Tracy was cooking at Vegan Love, making vegan African food in the East Village. It was then her business partner and herself came up with the idea for a virtual internship, one that focuses on the financial technology platform. 5-8 girls and women are mentored for 12 weeks, where the aim of the program is to increase female representation in the tech industry — who make up only about 25% of the jobs available. “Interns are able to harness our support system and leverage that network into personal success. This translates into a potent circle of women nurturing and empowering each other. We seek to foster a flourishing environment of empowerment, social justice, and diversity for both our employees and our members.” 
Tracy credits God for her entrepreneurial spirit and drive to help others. “Faith means everything to me, I remember as a young child watching my mom fasting and teaching me about the Bible at a very early age. By the age of 13 I already knew the power I had. I am so happy my parents allowed me to be myself and walk in faith with everything I do in my life.” Now living in a desirable neighborhood in Queens, New York, she focuses more on her life missions. “This was all God planned for me and I am so glad I listened. My journey to New York City was not easy, but I am so happy I took a leap of faith.” God gave Tracy hope and a future, and she is passing it forward, this Women’s History Month, and every day in between.

Tracy Garley

When thinking about Los Angeles, one can get caught up in the glitz and the glam and the palm trees. It’s as if people think warmer weather diminishes the severity of the problems they think it erases. But it doesn’t. Problems still exist in the City of Dreams, even if that problem is, you dream to leave the city. Sha-Dé Chapman was born and raised in a middle-class home with two parents in Compton, California. With a reputation that precedes itself, Sha-Dé works to fight against those blanket assumptions of this community by starting at its root: education. 
<img loading="lazy" decoding="async" class="size-medium wp-image-5818 alignleft" src="https://iswi.wpengine.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/04/Story-Square_Sha-De-under1mb.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="300" />As the Youth Education Manager for the Coalition for Responsible Community Development, she is changing the youth’s priority of education and how to service the low-income and Black and Brown community with the same resources and opportunities that others in the Los Angeles Unified School District receive. “Honestly I feel that USC (University of Southern California) has failed the Black and Brown community. There is no reason for USC to sit in South Central LA, but damn near not even half the kids that live in the same community as USC, are not able to go there. That’s an ongoing battle. Some young people are falling through the cracks and I don’t feel like their needs are being met. Our young people who live in South Central are dealing with many variables — a lot of them are dealing with trauma. And then you have to come to school and deal with things that have happened outside of school and expect them to be resilient?” 
Resiliency is something city kids pick up. You build it up and it never comes down. Growing up, Sha-Dé experienced school districts both around South Central LA and the more affluent areas of the city. Not only was there a call for resiliency walking around the streets of her neighborhood, but having to experience diminishing and racist moments with her white peers and teachers motivated her to build her life up so no one can ever take anything away. So much so that when Sha-Dé strove for her Masters in Educational Psychology from Pepperdine University, she wrote her thesis on whether students of color are affected by teachers who do not look like them. When Sha-Dé was about 14 years old and going to Culver City High School, one of her classmates picked up a book in the classroom called “You Know You’re Ghetto If…” “So he opens the book and this kid is reading all these things and he gets to a page that says something like, you know you’re ghetto if you eat fried chicken with hot sauce. And the teacher says to me. ‘I bet Sha-Dé knows a lot about that.’ And everybody starts laughing. None of the Black kids in the classroom were laughing. We all kind of looked at each other. There was never an apology from this teacher.” From the same teacher, he handed her back an essay and wrote “cheap paper” and circled it. “When I look back on it now, who gives a damn if the paper’s cheap or not? At least it’s paper and at least my work is done. It made me feel small.” 
Today, Sha-Dé manages the programs Project Tipping Point and Jobs for Los Angeles Graduates so others don’t have to experience what she did but rather can have the world at their fingertips. Project Tipping Point recruits current and former foster youth who are interested in trade school — whether you’re looking to become a carpenter or a chef, you can attend for free with stipends, trainings, transportation support, and more. JLAG is part of a national network and serves youth experiencing homelessness, current or former foster youth, and those who’ve been involved in the justice system. Hoping to recover dropouts and break stereotypes, she brings these programs to schools where it’s needed. All of the youth are low-income, while many are first generation college students, DREAMers, and Black and/or Hispanic. “Oftentimes, language barriers exist and they aren’t able to participate in some programs because they have no social security number or legal work documents. It makes me feel disappointed and helpless.” And yet, Sha-Dé works with her staff to come up with solutions to help students who don’t speak English. She loves that Los Angeles is among the most diverse cities in the country, “it continually proves how diverse and how much of a safe haven the USA is. It proves how much immigrants believe in the American dream. It also shines a greater light on bigger issues like the need for law enforcement, politicians, and American to truly have cultural competency. America has changed and continues to.” And while this is true, the mix of students hasn’t changed much since Sha-Dé went to school herself, “My classroom consisted of African-Americans and Hispanic students. I remember my teacher, she was bilingual and she was a Black woman. She would teach the lesson in both English and Spanish and to this day, I know the Pledge of Allegiance in Spanish.” 
Teachers are some of the most influential people in our lives. One day, you might live by a certain philosophy simply because your teacher said it and you admired them. One day, you might change your track in college because of a conversation with your teacher, and you thought they knew best. And sometimes, you have terrible teachers that you still remember, because they are who you never want to be. Sha-Dé makes it her business to be a hands-on manager, constantly liaising with principals, teachers, counselors, and putting faces to names with students. By being a presence in the classroom, Sha-Dé builds a bond with these students, encouraging them to push themselves and dream bigger. “What I’m noticing is a lot of them are missing tools. Some of them don’t know how to be proactive. Some of them don’t know how to advocate for themselves because they’re so used to Ms. Sha-Dé coming into their class saying, ‘Hey, so-and-so, you forgot to fill this out. You can’t assume that everybody’s going to know that because you go to school in Los Angeles, that you live in Los Angeles. You have to actually put your first name, last name, city, state, zip code’ — simple things like that. And we’re talking about seniors. That’s a principle that you learn in elementary school, but a handful of them don’t know how to follow simple instructions yet.” 
As a 5-year-old in the early 90s, Sha-Dé was in a predominately white school and has vivid memories of walking down to the computer lab where dozens of new Apple computers sat — waiting for eager, young minds to learn. Computer literacy is an advantage. Most children in 2021 have some form of digital skills that will jumpstart their career, if not, it will be a necessity for projects and assignments. But by the time she transferred to a school in 5th grade in South Central, they were just getting computers. A 4 year learning gap between schools all under the Los Angeles Unified School District. How unified is a district when some students are given more resources and opportunities than others? 
Opportunities can be planned or spontaneous. Sha-Dé had a plan to go down to El Camino Community College and sign up for classes. But the day she was getting her hair done at her church friend Madea Keys’ shop her senior year after graduation, it changed her life. She had a plan to go down to the college and sign up the week after, but if you are like most eighteen year olds, sometimes life gets in the way. School often also doesn’t prepare you for the steps involved in progressing to the next stage, like the forms Sha-Dé asks her students to fill out. Madea, who invested in Sha-Dé’s education, said, “why are you going next week? You should go today. Get on the bus right here, straight down Crenshaw. Crenshaw will take you all the way to the city of Torrance where the school is at. Look for the key that tells you where all the offices are and go to the admissions office.” This was what jump started her track to higher education. Sixteen years later, Madea’s son needed funds to go on a school trip to Africa and Sha-Dé funded a large portion of that trip — something not even Madea’s family was able to provide. She told her, “Madea, when I was younger, you poured into me and my sisters. And I remember that you would do my hair for free. You would come all the way down to Compton to pick us up. I knew you were the one who got me into college because you told me, ‘No, you’re not waiting for next week, get on the bus now and get off.’ I remember she was just sobbing. I’m just paying it forward but you see how things come full circle. I had no idea that one day her son would need this or that she’d even have a son, but I remember her kindness towards me.” 
Paying it forward and remembering where you come from is an instrumental part of many cultures; always thinking beyond yourself and for your communities. Coming from a two-parent, loving household, Sha-Dé understands her experience was different from a lot of her classmates and who she works with today. But her father — born in LA, raised hearing stories about his Indian grandfather and the language that died with him, and living in Gardena, CA today— always reminded her to never forget where she came from. Even after teaching leadership programs at Stanford and in the Bronx for high school students for a summer and teaching English in China for two years, her father said, “I don’t care how many degrees you have. I don’t care where you live. I don’t care what car you drive or how many countries you’ve been to, I don’t care. You never forget where you come from. And Sha-Dé is an African-American girl that grew up in Compton and in South Central LA.” She continues, “That’s why my heart is always content in South Central, because it’s where I came from. I grew up in the world and these kids need to know, this is not the end of the world. South Central LA or Compton, California is a small place on a map. You’ve got this whole wide world to conquer, so many things to do, so many faces to see. This is just a very small speck on the map. The sky is the limit and you do not have to be here. This statistic does not define you. You can go against all odds. You don’t have go be in jail for the rest of your life. No, you can go to school. You can get an education.” 
Sha-Dé works everyday not just to make sure her hard-earned car and house are hers, but to also make sure that students see a Black woman with a master’s degree, who has traveled the world, is working in Compton, California and made it all happen. To have people keeping you accountable is a blessing, like her teacher Mr. Smith in 7th grade who attended an assembly and did not hear Sha-Dé’s name amongst other honor students. “I didn’t hear them call your name during the assembly. Did you get an award?” “No.” “Why? You need to get on the ball.” Since then, she signed up for whatever school trip she could, whatever job opportunity her school programs provided — anything to make her world larger. “The most difficult part of my job is when young people don’t really understand the benefits of my programs here at CRCD.” Going into the mind of a young scholar, she thinks, “you mean to tell me that you can take a class and get paid for going to school and we’re in a pandemic and my parents aren’t working and I just have to fill out some paperwork so I can get a check for going to school to help pay for groceries? You mean to tell me, as a foster youth, I can apply to college and you’re going to give me a free laptop or you’re going to give me a gas card because I have a car but don’t have a job and have any way to put gas in my car? You’re going to give me a free tap card to get on the bus? You’re going to get me guard certification or a forklift certification or a food handler certification or a first aid CPR certification for free? You’re going to take me all the way up north to see Berkeley or Stanford and you’re going to pay for my whole trip and food? You’re going to help me apply for a scholarship and a grant?” So many of the students in the schools she works in, say no. No because their friends aren’t doing it, or no because they don’t see the value in their education and success. “You should be chasing me down, not the other way around.” 
While she feels there’s a disconnect between her students and how she grew up, with her and her classmates taking more advantage of these opportunities — the sacred part of her job is graduation day. “The most enriching part is when I see a young person who was struggling or not interested in the beginning and something clicks and they get it; and now they’re about to graduate with their AA degree or getting ready to get their certification. When young people are successful, that right there is what makes me say, damn it’s worth it.” Sha-Dé often gets stopped at the grocery store or the mall with kids yelling her name, coming up to her and hugging her, thanking her for how her and her program have enriched their lives. She hopes to open her own nonprofit that runs like a camp, where young people can take summer classes, enrich their social skills, and enjoy life through horseback riding and swimming. 
While She-Dé hopes to not stay in Los Angeles, she knows she will never forget where she came from or what her parents taught her, “when our culture and our fight for our freedoms in education and freedoms period are threatened, fight back. The history of my culture is what shaped and molded me.”

Sha-Dé Chapman

As a pediatric dentist, personal trainer, almost K-Pop star (he denies it), and successful YouTuber with over 100,000 subscribers on his channel “J-Bro,” some may wonder how Dr. John Yoo juggles his time. “I think I’m incredibly lucky to be able to compartmentalize my day. I’m not doing 16 hours of dentistry or any one thing, or else I would burn out. I want to do dentistry, I enjoy personal training, and I love making videos. Yes, there are days I do get exhausted, but these are all my passions and I feel so blessed to be able to call them work,” he said.
<img loading="lazy" decoding="async" class="size-medium wp-image-5812 alignleft" src="https://iswi.wpengine.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/04/Story-Square_John_Yoo-1.png" alt="" width="300" height="300" />
The dream to become a dentist did not solidify until John’s senior year at Duke University. After working on a research project with a renowned research physician Dr. Kim, he was asked a simple question, “Why do you want to go into medicine?” John froze. “I didn’t have a particularly convincing response to that. I spent my whole life thinking that I was going to be a MD and I couldn’t answer this question with conviction. Dr. Kim saw me struggling with that response and said, ‘John, that’s normal. Take some time off to explore your other interests.” Dr. Kim prescribed him precious time-off from his research project, that ended up being some of the most critical months of exploration. John fell on one of his oldest passions: singing.
Growing up, John was drawn to music in a very musically driven household. His mom, a pianist, singer, guitarist, and schoolteacher,  taught him how to sing at a very young age, and John learned to embrace the stage spotlight. By high school, he was ranked one of the top classical singers in NJ, and received numerous accolades for classical singing. From there, he continued to sing in college, and formed a Korean band at Duke called the Seoul Singers, covering pop songs and Koran ballads, while the start of the K-wave was happening. “There were nights I spent recording all night and not getting tired of it one bit. I thought, what if I could combine this passion I have for the arts with a career in healthcare?” As an attempt to combine the two, he shadowed music therapists at a psychiatric ward in North Carolina, but didn’t feel the same personal fulfillment he got while in the pediatric oncology wards. After shadowing a pediatric dentist (Dr. Hill) one day, his life was decided. He took out his journal where he had been writing out his failures and a-ha moments; he turned to a new page, wrote down the date, and jotted “I think I figured it out.”
Over the next 4 months, John witnessed meaningful interactions Dr. Hill had with his patients, the autonomy of running his own practice, and most saliently, the ability to take two weeks off a year to treat underserved children in Honduras with his staff. “I thought that was the perfect balance of entrepreneurship, healthcare, and philanthropy.” Before college, John and his father looked forward to spending time together on international volunteer trips, with his first being in Brazil. So when John took his first dental missionary trip to Panama in college, he was hooked. “My parents, being very avid Christians and big proponents of helping the community, always felt like we could and should do more for others. I think seeing that trickled down into what I wanted my life to be like as well. Ultimately, when I’m on my deathbed, I want to be able to say, ‘Did I leave the world a little bit better of a place than when I had started?” I think if I can answer that with confidence, I will have lived with no regrets.
Empowered and motivated to keep helping those in need, he knew that being able to use his efforts to help those in need was his driving factor. He went on 3 more dental mission trips to Cambodia and Jamaica while in dental school and in residency. “The single biggest fulfillment I get is when I get to interact with the population that I see as particularly vulnerable. I thought, what population do I want to work with and do I see the most reward in treating. And it was, hands down for me, kids. They have a limited understanding of what’s happening. But with a little more effort, I can hopefully provide treatment in a way that can be fun. “I can absolutely relate to a child’s dental fear – I had severe early childhood caries and I underwent multiple treatments at a tender age. A dentist and his/her team has the ability to make the experience better.” 
In November 2020, John and his soon to be dental partners, all Columbia Dental doctors, decided to pull the trigger and open a pediatric dental and orthodontic clinic together in Fort Lee, New Jersey called Beam City Dental. Just a few months later, they are undergoing construction next door to an H Mart, a quintessential stop for any Asian dish needs. Fort Lee and Palisades Park — or Pal Park, as any red-blooded, bagel-eating Jerseyian will call it — are a mere 10 minutes across the Hudson River from the predominantly Spanish-speaking neighborhood of Washington Heights in New York City. With over half of Pal Park’s and Fort Lee’s residents of Korean ancestry, it is a hub and Mecca for the bridge and tunnel crowd. “Those places were the only things that my parents and I had, as like, a remnant of our life in Korea. We would spend weekends in Fort Lee and my mom would feel most comfortable there, since she could use her native language. I would spend Saturday mornings and afternoons at an academy there learning Korean. Fort Lee has always been like a second home away from home and to be setting up our clinic there, actually excited my parents almost more than anything. It still feels kind of surreal.” 
When John and his family moved to the United States when he was 4 years old, the plan was for his family to move back to Korea after his father’s 5 year work visa ended. But when he turned 9 years old, John and his brother did not want to give up the life that they knew. “Imagine leaving a country at 9 years old. I was American by that point – I made friends here, and even though I looked like none of my friends in my predominantly non-Asian neighborhood, I would’ve done anything to stay.” His parents listened, and his mother remained in NJ while his father worked in Korea and eventually in Brazil, without knowing when he would return. He finally returned permanently on John’s high school graduation day, where he proudly gave the Salutatorian speech. “That was the happiest day of my life, seeing my parents back together in the same house. Looking back now, I feel incredibly grateful and also so painfully sad for what they did to give my old brother and me a chance at an American education. I was lucky to have my brother point out to me at a young age the immensity of their sacrifice. If at any moment I felt unmotivated or lazy, my older brother would say, “‘Do you realize what they’re doing for us right now? Study hard. Make their sacrifice worthwhile.’ It wasn’t a guilt trip, it was more of an encouragement, and I’ve internalized that to now just live each day to the fullest. Without a doubt, my family has and always will mean the world to me.”
John prescribes to the idea that immigrants are amongst the hardest working people he knows. “I think the immigrant story is something that truly inspires people to work hard and achieve their goals, no matter what the circumstances. I strongly believe there’s priceless value in placing your satisfaction off of your efforts, not only your outcomes. That’s the one thing that you can control. It’s the mindset, the effort you put in, that you can control. Don’t think about the results immediately. Don’t think about how much money, how much gain. If you’re putting in one hundred percent in the right direction and you’re moving forward, then you’ve tried your best, and hopefully results will follow. 
“For me, every chance that I get to work or do something, I don’t see it as an obligation even if it is- I see it as a chance for me to work hard and make something of it. I try to be grateful for what I have and the opportunities afforded.” This gratitude mindset is what John believes both immigrants and non-immigrants alike in reaching their potentials and pursuing their dreams. Final statements from John: “One life. Make it extraordinary. You can do what your mind allows.”

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