Long before I ever became a journalist, I fell in love with storytelling.  

I was a voracious reader and an unapologetic eavesdropper. My parents have photos of me at three sitting on the toilet with a She-Ra picture book, then several years later devouring copy after copy of “The Baby-Sitters Club” on road trips in the backseat of our Chevy Blazer.  

I also remember the nights family or friends would stop by our house in Mesa. I would lie in bed until my parents thought I was asleep and slip from the top bunk, tip-toeing in the dark to sit alone in the L-shaped hallway just out of view. It was my one chance to hear all the adult stories unfiltered: the updates, the gossip, the “can you believe he did that” comments from the adults in my life. I reveled in those tales.  

Since then, I’ve been drawn to storytelling in all forms: essays, poetry, photography and music. As a Diné (Navajo) woman, I grew up knowing stories do more than entertain. They preserve our history, pass down crucial lessons and help us remember our humanity.  

That understanding is ultimately what led me to journalism. I may not be telling my own stories, but I do see my role as helping others share theirs. 

Three and a half years ago, I started as a general assignment reporter for InMaricopa, worked on the government beat and moved up to senior reporter before eventually accepting a position as associate editor. During that time, I’ve confirmed my belief that everyone has a story worth telling.  

Some become headlines. Some serve as the spark to another story and others are captured in photography’s decisive moment. But together, they tell the story of a community working on its next chapter.  

That’s true of every InMaricopa issue I’ve worked on, including this one. You’ll learn which song local candidates would play as they enter a room, the culture shock of being an exchange student from Japan and the thoughts racing through the heads of high school graduates on the cusp of adulthood.  

They may not seem like they have much in common, but they offer a glimpse into the lives and perspectives of Maricopans. Hopefully those stories allow each of us to see ourselves and our neighbors a little more clearly. 

And with that, I want to say ahéhee’, thank you for trusting me with your stories. I look forward telling Maricopa’s next chapter.