Where Hope Rests

By Carolina Cardoza-Hererra, Loretto Justice Fellow

As time goes by, I’ve realized life has a way of guiding us to the places where we are meant to be. Taking the risk of applying to this Fellowship really paid off and there are moments where I find myself fascinated by the divine timing of this opportunity. I am a 20-year-old college student double majoring in political science and multimedia journalism, two fields that constantly expose me to difficult realities. Yet the experiences I’ve shared with my cohorts, with Annie and with the larger Loretto Community have given me hope.

I chose fields of study driven by a desire to see a better world, and that desire never dies down, yet as I keep facing obstacles I realize that I have found solace in a community that reminds me that I am not alone in my dream of the Beloved Community. I’ve made peace with the fact that seismic systemic change might not take place throughout my lifetime, but I know that I am laying down the foundation that my children’s lives will be built upon. I can only teach others this through my own actions. I can only teach love if I open my heart not only to my loved ones and those who think like me, but also those I see as my opponents. 

I believe that those of us who give our lives for this cause find ourselves rooted in the idea that systemic issues can be addressed through nonviolent action and a radical change in people’s hearts and souls. And I’ve learned throughout my time in this year’s cohort that one of the strongest medicines for the soul is the love given by a community. Altruistic and selfless love, a love that “sees no stranger” as the practice of revolutionary love reminds us. I have felt my soul rest here, in this circle of people who help me carry the weight of my burdens and who believe in the same future I do. 

The most transformative experience for me during this fellowship was our first community meal at Abara. I hadn’t allowed myself in a long time to speak from such a vulnerable place and share my fears, insecurities and hopes so openly. Being met with the same vulnerability from my cohort in return moved me. That moment taught me that community is not something you simply join but something you create through honesty and courage. I can only serve others in a meaningful way when I show up fully, present, honest and willing to both hold and be held.

If there is one thing I have learned about love, justice and myself that I want to remember it’s this: The work we are doing is NOT easy. It shakes the foundations we stand on. But justice work is sustained not by certainty, but by love, especially the kind that requires us to stay open when the world feels heavy. It’s a choice we make every morning when we wake up. When doubt surrounds me I think of the bigger picture. I remind myself that I come from a long line of women who chose courage over comfort.

But more than anything I have been given hope. I have always considered myself an optimist and a glass half-full person; I have been called naive and an idealist for it, and life tried to test me this past semester as to how committed I was to this hopefulness. The times when I most struggled to cling to hope, PEOPLE were the ones to restore that faith I have in my beliefs and values. In this Fellowship I have been given hope, hope for myself, hope for others and hope for the future.