While still in high school, I enrolled in beauty college through adult education. For the first time, I felt alive. I was good at it. I loved it. It felt like something that belonged to me. But halfway through, my mother pressured me to drop out — she told me I wasn't going to graduate anyway, and she needed me to work so I could give her money.

While living with my grandparents, I reenrolled. I finished the program. I earned my license. I was proud — even if no one else was. Instead of falling through the cracks like so many expected, I built a foundation.

I worked in several salons and built lasting friendships. A friend invited me to work at her shop in Oakland — there, I learned to do African-American hair. As a Latina stylist mastering textured hair, I became something unique in the industry. That became my niche, and my gateway into higher-end salons.

Later, another opportunity brought me back to San Jose to work at a large African-American salon. Eventually I built one of the largest clienteles out of the ten stylists there. But I didn't just want a chair. I wanted ownership.

I grew up believing banks would never loan money to someone like me. So I didn't even try. I saved every dollar I could for a year — no shopping, no splurging. I stayed in an unhealthy relationship longer than I should have because I was focused on one thing: my business.

From the very beginning, I knew success meant nothing if I didn't give back. Every year: toy drives, food drives, adopted families, donations to local churches. We helped hundreds of families — not just with services, but with hope and mentorship. Phat Efx didn't just become a salon. It became my healing.

Years later, I gave birth to my daughter prematurely at six months. She fought for her life in the hospital for two months. Watching her struggle to breathe awakened a strength in me I didn't know existed. I learned what it meant to fight fiercely — not just for survival, but for legacy.

That experience deepened my purpose. Clients and women in my community began coming to me not just for hair, but for guidance. I have sat in doctor's appointments with them, held their hands, and reminded them that they have something to live for — that they are stronger than they think. God protected me through every painful chapter for a reason, and I will spend the rest of my life honoring that.