Hope As a Practice

Viviana Cordero García, IRT ’15
Chief Alumni Success Officer, Esperanza Academy

Seven years ago, I walked through the doors of Esperanza Academy with big dreams and bigger questions. I was building my life as an educator and leader, a leader in a community that reminded me of my own—where stories of strength often begin with sacrifice. Since then, I’ve grown a program, a family, a team, and, most importantly, a deeper sense of what it means to sustain hope in times that test it.

Hope, esperanza, for me, is not wishful thinking. It is a practice. A verb. A discipline of presence.

I sustain hope by staying rooted in relationships—with my students and alumni, with their mothers and abuelitas, with my team, with fellow nonprofit leaders and board members who share in the long-haul work of justice, with my ancestors, and with the younger version of me who needed someone to say, “You belong here.” I hold space for grief and joy to exist at the same table because, in our community, they always do.

I sustain hope by remembering where I come from. I am the Andes Mountains where I was born—a daughter of immigrants, a first-generation college student, a mother who loves her babies deeply and also believes her calling is part of the inheritance she’ll pass on. I do this work not in spite of my story but because of it.

And I sustain hope through spiritual practice—not just as a way to keep myself safe, but to keep myself brave. Softer, too. I’ve learned that rest is not a detour from the work. It is the work. As a mother of two little ones, as someone who loves this work and feels its weight, I am practicing what it means to rest—not just to recover, but to remember myself. To return to my body. To be well enough to dream again.

I sustain hope by witnessing the dreams we’ve spoken aloud take form. I feel so deeply blessed—and empowered—to be part of a community that is building something lasting for our girls. To see the walls soon begin to rise on a new building in Lawrence, to imagine our students and alumni walking through its doors, claiming space that was made with them in mind—that is hope made real. It’s a promise to our past, present, and future: You belong here. You are worthy of beauty, safety, and possibility.

Because in these times, action is not only what we do—it’s how we choose to be.

Action looks like building what doesn’t yet exist. At Esperanza, that means growing a 12-year Graduate Success Program rooted in radical care and possibility. It means showing up not just for the big wins but also for the ordinary Tuesdays when our girls need a ride, a book, a call, or a reminder of their brilliance.

Action looks like challenging systems with love. Translating FAFSA language into something our families can understand. Calling educational institutions and asking tough questions about what belonging and equity means for them. Refusing to let institutions dim the light of our young women of color just because they don’t know how to receive it.

Action looks like nurturing the leadership in others. My team. Our alumni. The students who once whispered their dreams and now speak them aloud. My role is not to be the only light in the room but to hold up the mirror so they can see their own.

And yes—action looks like rest. Like letting the emails wait while I lie on the floor and play with my kids and dog. Like early mornings in prayer, evenings in circle, weekends spent pouring back into my own soul. Because I’ve learned that when I take care of myself in these ways, I come back clearer, stronger, and more myself.

This is how I sustain myself in these times. Not with perfection or endless energy—but with intention. With community. With deep love.

Because when our girls see us be brave and soft, strategic and spiritual, bold and rested, they get permission to do the same.

And that, too, is hope in action.