As a first-generation Guatemalan American, my identity is at the center of everything I love. I’m more than just a fútbol freestyler. I’m a creative. Through fútbol, I use fashion and music to express myself in ways that push against what people traditionally expect a fútbol player to be. My art captures not just my skills, but a female-forward movement rooted in freedom and self-expression.

Fútbol has been woven into my life for as long as I can remember, deeply tied to my culture and upbringing. Some of my earliest memories are of family gatherings, watching everyone pass the ball, laughing, and connecting through the sport.

At seven years old, living in a trailer park in a Latino neighborhood, I began to understand fútbol’s beauty on a deeper level. The place overflowed with culture: cumbia music pouring from porches, weekends feeling like celebrations, and carne asada always sizzling at backyard gatherings. Even without a formal invite, you knew you belonged.

As kids, we spent our time outside. After school, in the rain, whenever we had the chance, we played fútbol. No matter what, street pickup was always there for us. Looking back, a lot of us didn’t have the resources to join organized teams. The lack of access was very real in my community.



But there was beauty in that struggle—it built creativity, resilience, and a pure love for the game. Even now, those lessons shape how I approach freestyle and life.

When I was 16, I discovered freestyle fútbol, but I wasn't in the best mental place. I struggled with confidence and self-worth, and it showed in how I played on my school team. On top of that, I was also navigating a male-dominated culture within both the sport and my community.

There were moments when I felt underestimated, overlooked, or not taken seriously simply because I was a woman. Whether it was subtle comments, a lack of encouragement, or the feeling that I did not belong in certain spaces, I started to doubt my abilities and my dreams. Because of that, I found myself dimming parts of myself.

I showed less of my femininity because I thought I had to fit a certain mold to be accepted in the sport. I even considered quitting fútbol altogether because I did not feel like I was good enough.

Everything shifted when I saw my older brother and some neighborhood friends outside practicing freestyle. The graceful, intentional movements captivated me. I told myself that if I didn’t believe I was good enough, I just had to keep trying. I wasn’t naturally talented—it took a full year of daily practice just to learn my first trick.

Those long practice sessions became a big part of my life. Music on, ball at my feet, hours of repetition, and Yerba Madre nearby became their own kind of ritual. Little by little, freestyle gave me something I did not have before: confidence, direction, and a sense of purpose. It became a space where I could push back on the box I had been put in as a woman. Every new trick I learned felt like proof, mostly to myself, that I belonged.

Over the years, freestyle has become a huge part of my life. For five years, I competed nationally and internationally, placing among the top five female freestylers in the country. I also performed at schools across the country, connecting with communities similar to the one I grew up in and sharing why I care so deeply about the game.

Beyond the competitions and performances, the most life-changing part of freestyle was discovering who I really am. I spent time journaling, reflecting, and reconnecting with my roots. I traveled to Guatemala to be with my family and deepen my understanding of my culture and its connection to fútbol.



I began to accept myself more fully, inside and out. I stopped trying to fit into a version of life I thought I was supposed to live and started embracing who I actually was.

That shift appeared in my freestyle and in how I presented myself to the world. I embraced color, saw fashion as expression, and moved in a way that felt true to me. My freestyle grew smoother and more intentional, reflecting new confidence.

This past year, I started thinking even more creatively about my content. I asked myself how I could bring together everything I love into one vision. That is when my street corner videos were born.

They capture the essence of street fútbol, my outfit of the day, and the music that matches exactly how I’m feeling in that moment. These short videos reflect who I really am, blending my culture, creativity, and movement into something authentic and alive. Yerba Madre naturally became part of that process too, helping me stay present through the long days of creating, filming, and bringing those ideas to life.

Nearly ten years after discovering freestyle fútbol, I have created a space that feels fully my own. In this new creative chapter, I feel more connected than ever to who I am, what I love, and the ways I want to keep pushing my movement forward.