About This Space
Mesa y Manos is a space for people who care about others, are willing to listen, and are learning in public.
This page tells the long story of how it began — not as a political project, but as a human one.
Mesa y Manos
There is always room for one more.
Mesa y Manos means Table and Hands.
A table where people are welcomed.
Hands that help, not point.
This space exists because I believe people matter more than arguments, fear, or rules that forget the human cost.
I have spent much of my life learning how to enter rooms where I didn’t yet belong — and helping others do the same.
Where This Began
I am the son of a member of the United States military.
Growing up, we moved often.
There was no internet.
No easy way to stay in touch.
When I made friends — which was very hard for me as a kid — I would leave them.
And most of the time, I would never see them again.
Every move meant starting over.
New schools.
New faces.
New rules no one explained.
I often found myself on the outside of groups who had lived in one place all their lives — people who already belonged to each other.
I didn’t know the history.
I didn’t understand the context.
I missed the inside jokes.
I learned early what it feels like to stand just outside the room.
That pain left a deep mark on me.
I have spent much of my life learning how to enter rooms where I didn’t yet belong — and helping others do the same.
How That Shaped Me
Because of those years, I became sensitive to people who feel left out.
I notice who is new.
Who doesn’t know the rules.
Who feels unsafe asking questions.
As an adult, I learned how to turn that pain into empathy.
In my career, I became deeply invested in onboarding and teaching — helping people understand how things work, where they fit, and how to succeed without shame.
I build processes.
I guide.
I explain what others assume you already know.
Being new is hard.
It doesn’t have to be cruel.
I have spent much of my life learning how to enter rooms where I didn’t yet belong — and helping others do the same.
Where I Came From Spiritually and Politically
I grew up evangelical and deeply conservative.
My faith was sincere.
My beliefs were strong.
Including strong right-wing beliefs about immigration.
I believed laws were the same as morality.
I believed order mattered more than stories.
I believed people should simply “do things the right way.”
At the time, I didn’t think of myself as unkind.
I thought I was being faithful.
The Tension I Couldn’t Ignore
Over time, my beliefs stopped matching the realities of my own life.
I felt a tension I couldn’t explain away.
Questions surfaced that sermons didn’t answer.
I struggled quietly — because struggling was not welcomed.
Something felt off.
But I didn’t yet have the language for it.
Learning to Listen
Everything began to change through relationships.
I met friends who encouraged me not to argue — but to listen.
They invited me to learn Spanish.
Not to win debates.
But to understand people.
I started with apps on my phone — Duolingo and Speak.
I made mistakes.
I felt embarrassed.
Then I signed up for three levels of Spanish at a local language school.
Learning a language slowed me down.
And slowing down changed me.
I have spent much of my life learning how to enter rooms where I didn’t yet belong — and helping others do the same.
Learning History I Was Never Taught
As I learned the language, I began hearing stories.
Stories of U.S., Mexican, and Latin American history I was never taught in school.
I read articles.
I read books.
I listened to voices I had once dismissed.
I attended a Latin American history through film class.
The more I learned about what the United States has done in this hemisphere — often to protect its power and comfort — the harder it became to stay comfortable myself.
Immigration stopped being an issue.
It became human.
Reckoning With My Own Comfort
I began to see how protected my life has been.
How simple answers work best when you are safe.
How complex life becomes when you are not.
Immigration is not simple.
People are not problems to solve.
I began to recognize my own privilege — not with shame, but with responsibility.
Faith, Re-centered
At my core, I care deeply about people.
I believe God cares about people more than rules.
More than borders.
More than systems that forget mercy.
Not all laws are just.
And law alone is not the basis of morality.
Jesus consistently chose people over systems.
People are made in the image of God.
That has to mean something in real life.
How I Learn and Change
I approached this journey the same way I approach my work as a UX designer.
I listen first.
I study real people.
I form a theory.
I test it against lived experience.
And when the data shows I’m wrong — I change.
This kind of learning is slow.
And often painful.
The Cost of Change
This journey has not been easy.
Most of my friends and family are deeply conservative.
Many do not understand this process.
Some believe I’ve lost my mind.
I cannot really discuss these issues with people I love — not because I don’t care, but because the conversations turn into sermons instead of listening.
That loss hurts.
But I keep going — because loving people requires honesty.
The Creed of Mesa y Manos
Mesa y Manos exists to say this clearly:
I care about people made in God’s image.
I do not want suffering for people who simply want a better life.
We can do better.
Our laws can be fairer.
Compassion and justice belong together.
Mesa y Manos is not about politics.
It is about loving your neighbor as yourself — and aligning our beliefs, actions, and choices with that love.
There is always room for one more.
At the table.
In the story.
In our hearts.
Thank you for reading this far.
An Invitation
If you are curious…
If you are uncomfortable…
If you are questioning quietly…
You are welcome here.
Pull up a chair.