Petra Molina Ohlinger

The graduation story of an undocumented student at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas. A journey of systematic struggles, discrimination, resilience and empowerment.

Oscar was four years old when his family decided to immigrate to the United States.

His mother left first, with no guarantee that she would ever see her children again. Then, it was Oscar’s and his brother’s turn. They crossed the border from Tijuana to San Diego next to two strangers and a broken down van.

“I was told to pretend like I was asleep. If they had any questions, I was too asleep to even answer

Sin City. A city heralded as a paradise for uncensored fun and guilty pleasure, conceals the truth for those that work to make this “paradise” a reality.

Las Vegas is where peacock feathers and extravagant costumes decorate Showgirls’ bodies as they make their signature walk down the Vegas strip. Tourists from around the world come to Las Vegas to be mesmerized by glimmer, lights and lust, but they rarely stop to notice the true life behind Vegas Showgirls.

“People forget that we are humans. W

The college experience at UO is mostly characterized by rain coats, umbrellas and wet shoes. By the end of winter term, walking to class on a rainy day becomes routine. The best purchase a student makes is probably waterproof shoe spray so their socks actually stay dry throughout the day. The rain can easily become a student’s enemy. However, it can also become something really beautiful.

The rain transforms the atmosphere into a poetic and magical palace during the winter. Eugene is framed by

For years, society has told us what is appropriate for men and women to wear. Since birth, the message is wired into our brains: Baby girls are swaddled in pink and baby boys in blue. This environment has created an invisible barrier between the women’s and men’s clothing sections, defining the limits of gender in fashion. The fashion industry promotes and enforces the gender binary, turning a blind eye to the genderqueer experience.

In a society where following gender norms is expected, some g

“You are so exotic,” a guy at the University of Oregon told me just moments after we met. Dressed up and intended as a compliment, this comment is afflicted with stereotypes and misconceptions. One of the most enduring tropes around Latin women in U.S. culture is Tropicalism, which erases ethnic specificity and replaces it with a generic image of bright colors, rhythmic music, brown skin and curvy hips. As soon as I introduce myself as Peruvian and Latin American, strangers begin to depict me as