Dear Papi Lenfest

I hope that a year after your departure from this universe you are calm, that you don’t worry too much about the things we are going through down here.

We’re doing well, I think. There are times I feel the need to return to the Caribbean, but I stop when I think about how difficult it would be for me to get a job without taking sides. I also think about how much we’ve accomplished at the newspaper during the time you’ve been away.

Starting a reporting beat from scratch has been quite a challenge: it has involved six months of listening to leaders and local Latinos nag about the paper’s past coverage, talks about pushing digital-first and Spanish-language content for these communities, also navigating the “best” ways to cover their issues for a mainstream platform. And we did it with our eyes closed.

I want to tell you that I’m proud that there are people who call me after work to share their concerns, because they feel safe and comfortable speaking to me in Spanish. I love being able to publish my mother’s last name as a byline (it would kill me if it didn’t appear in print). And I feel a huge responsibility to be a Dominican journalist, one of the few bilingual Latinas at El Inquirer.

You, who listen to me and speak to me from time to time, should know that I appreciate the opportunity you gave me, the Lenfest fellows, and my family, and that we have worked hard to keep your name high.

Today, as some share with me their desire to leave and start a new life (again) far from AK-47s and violent racism, I want to ask you to guide me, to help me use my journalism as a tool for education and organizing, to support the Latino communities of Philly in the best way possible.

In this final year I have left with The Inquirer, I want to build fair and respectful coverage of people and their experiences. And when I leave, I don’t want to be celebrated like Stu .

I send you a big hug and, please, say hello to my dear Mama Fifina.

He says goodbye, affectionately,

Jesenia