Welcome to "The latest" 

Here you'll find the latest news, current events, stories from the campaign trail, and my reflections about all of it. 

Tacoma, WA – Former Governor Jay Inslee has announced his endorsement of Silong Chhun for Tacoma City Council, District 4, highlighting Chhun’s commitment to equity, community, and pragmatic leadership.

“I am proud to endorse Silong Chhun for Tacoma City Council. His passion for equity, his commitment to community, and his pragmatic leadership make him the ideal choice to represent District 4,” said Inslee.

Chhun’s campaign is focused on addressing affordable housing, preventing homelessness, supporting small businesses, and advocating for families impacted by deportation to build a more inclusive and equitable Tacoma.

Join Former Governor Inslee in supporting Silong Chhun’s vision for a stronger, more compassionate Tacoma. Donate today to help power this grassroots campaign and bring real change to District 4.

"My parents came from Mexico with nothing but hope. They were farm workers who also worked at a meat plant near the Tri-Cities. That's where they met—cutting meat together. I watched them work impossibly long hours, hands rough from labor, but never complained.

“I was the first in my family to graduate from college. That wasn’t just my victory—it was theirs. I carried their sacrifices with me through every late-night study session, every job application, every moment of self-doubt.

“Now, I work to make sure families like mine don’t have to fight so hard just to get a fair shot. I fight for clean air and water in the same state where my parents once picked crops under the scorching sun. I serve as a Washington State Representative for the 29th Legislative District, I've been an advisor to Gov. Inslee, and written policies that protect working families like mine. But I never forget where I come from.

“But my work isn’t just my job. It’s in my community, too. I organize for immigration reform and voting rights. In 2021, I co-created Voter Turnup, a movement by and for people of color to empower each other through civic engagement and cultural expression.

“Sometimes I look at my hands and see my mother's hands. Working hands. Hands that build things. When I sit in government meetings advocating for environmental justice, I carry her with me. I carry all of us who weren't meant to be in those rooms.

“People like my parents built this country. They deserve a government that works for them, not against them. Every day, I try to be part of making that a reality. Because if my parents could carve out a life for us with their bare hands, the least I can do is use mine to build something better.  This work—creating space for those who've been left out—it's not what I do. It's who I am."

#RootedInCommunity 

I'm honored to have earned Rep. Mena's endorsement - as the child of immigrants, and myself having arrived as a refugee, we share the journey from different paths of displacement to community leadership. Rep. Mena embodies the same values that drive our campaign - that hard work deserves dignity and that our communities deserve leaders who understand their struggles firsthand. 

This campaign isn't just about winning an election - it's about creating a Tacoma where every family has the opportunity to write their own success story, just like Rep. Mena's and mine. Will you join Rep. Mena in supporting our grassroots movement? Your contribution today brings us closer to the representation the Eastside and South End deserve.

"My real name is Kwabena. It means 'born on Tuesday.' In the Ashanti culture, kids are named after the days of the week. If you're a male born on Tuesday, your name is Kwabena, or some variation. Kwabi is one of those variations. It also means 'fire.'

“I was born in Reno, Nevada. My dad's Ghanaian, so I'm half African and half African-American. My mom's from Arkansas. My dad was insistent on naming me an African name. He was an environmental engineer who taught inmates at McNeil Island. My mom was a psychologist who worked with youth on mental health problems. I have an older brother named Kwesi. His name means 'the sun,' and he was born on Sunday. We're polar opposites. I'm more outspoken, I like talking with people. He's more of an introvert but my brother has the kindest heart you'll ever know - the type who'll drop everything to help someone in need without expecting anything in return.  His big heart is what makes him an inspiration to the students as Vice Principal at Washington High School.

“I like to say I'm a product of a kid having their needs met and having resources applied to them. I grew up upper middle class, so if I wanted something or needed something, I talked to my parents about it, and usually it happened. They were always enforcing this idea of doing what you want to do. You set out for a goal, and they'd help you achieve it.

“My mom was born in 1949 and was 40 when she had me so she is an older mom. We skipped a generation, so I didn't grow up on hip hop. I grew up on soul music and reggae music. The people I was looking up to when I was younger were Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Muhammad Ali, and Malcolm X. These were themes throughout my entire childhood. There was a very big urgency in the 60s with the civil rights movement, and everyone was involved, no matter what your economic status. Everyone was working towards the betterment of the Black community, the betterment of all people. That's where it started for me. That's where it was planted—whatever resources I have, whatever skills I accrue, I'm going to use these to help people.

“I'm a humanitarian, not an activist. There's a difference. I'm not going to be outside picketing or protesting. My job is to give resources to people in need. It's bipartisan. I'm not trying to change policy—that's for other people to do. I literally listen to the needs of people, and I try to meet them where they're at to make sure they get their needs met. Essential needs: food, clothing, shelter is what I work with. If you're opposing that, there's something really wrong with you. I truly believe poverty is going to be the force that brings us together.

“In 2021, there was a lot of divisiveness in the political realm so I took The Peace Bus across the country. My goal was to try to bring people together. I thought of Johnny Appleseed and asked myself, 'How can we plant seeds of peace?' I thought, well, books. If we can have young people learning about what peace is—empowerment, respect, empathy, humanizing each other—maybe when they're older, they'll actually show that empathy. They'll see someone on the street and won't just walk over them. They'll feel an obligation to help.

“So I created a peace reading list of 40 books ranging from age five to college age. I took the peace bus filled with these books and a truck filled to the brim, myself, my assistant, and a documentarian, and we traveled across the US going to major cities, giving out books and talking to kids and college students.

“What stood out most from traveling across the country? I think people are starving for peace. In Wyoming, we stopped at a diner/gas station. I prayed about the unification of our country, that we could come together in respect to our differences, not in spite of them. When I said 'Amen,' there were literal cowboys sitting in the corner, and one of them turned to me and said, 'I'll say Amen to that, brother.' That was an inkling that people really want peace in this country.

“In Toledo, Ohio, a school reached out to us, asking us to speak. We were on a tight schedule, so I initially declined. But my team decided we should go, even though it meant leaving at 3 AM. When we arrived, the entire school was outside cheering us on. It was an all-boys school, and the chapel was filled with young men excited about how they could help each other become better. It wasn't a sporting event or music event—it was literally about peace. That was probably the most inspiring moment of the entire trip.

“I've been working on getting my pilot's license. I sought out aviation for the sole purpose of promoting peace and understanding, and raising awareness of the major inhibitors of peace—poverty, racism, and lack of quality education for youth. Those to me are the three tenets that, if alleviated or removed, would put us in a pretty good space.

“What are my biggest challenges? Racism. I just had a guy message me last week with a blank profile saying, 'You may be a humanitarian, but you're still a n-----.' But that just tells me we're doing the right thing. If you have no opposition, then you're probably not doing anything to change the status quo or shift our society in the right direction.

“Not everyone's supposed to drive a bus or fly a plane. Not everyone's supposed to be a humanitarian. But what are your skills? And how can you utilize them to help other people in need? That's for the betterment of all people. We need new innovations and inventions that are going to transcend humanity. And we're only going to get there if we're making sure that everyone has a seat at the table of opportunity. That's where progress lies."

#RootedInCommunity

Thank you, Kwabi, for your commitment to peace and for showing us that when we use our unique skills to help others, we can address poverty, racism, and educational inequality. Your journey reminds us that true progress comes when we work together for the betterment of all people. Learn more about Kwabi and the Peace Bus https://www.thepeacebus.org/

“I grew up in the Bay Area. It was me, my mom, and my little brother, bouncing between motels, church shelters, and strangers’ couches. When I was 16, I got my first job because I was tired of wondering where we’d sleep. My mom was a single mom, doing her best, and food stamps back then came in paper booklets you ripped out and handed over at the store. We knew hunger well.  I remember feeling jealous of my dad in jail because he got to eat and had a roof over his head.

“My childhood didn’t feel strange at the time. When you’re in survival mode, you don’t sit around wondering if it’s normal. You just keep moving. Now, with my own daughter, I look back and realize how much my mom must have been struggling. But I also realize how much of her own trauma trickled down into our lives. She had her own demons — a childhood full of neglect, addiction, and instability. We don’t talk anymore. She texts me on my birthday, but that’s about it. I’ve learned to accept our relationship through therapy.

“I left home the moment I could. I worked every job — Cold Stone, Wells Fargo, any place that would hire me. I always had two jobs because I knew I wasn’t going back to motel life. I didn’t even know people had bank accounts until I got my own, because my mom was banned from every bank for bouncing checks. When I got my first government job at 20, it wasn’t part of some grand plan. It was just a stable office assistant gig at the fire department, but that one lucky break changed my whole life.

“I worked my way up to fire inspector, then investigator. They even trained me to fly drones for post-fire investigations. I was good at my job. Not because I was the smartest person in the room, but because I kept my head down to learn and didn’t act like an asshole. Sometimes that’s all it takes. 

“I moved to Tacoma after my little brother did. He bought a house here — something that felt impossible back in the Bay. And when I came up to visit, I realized this city felt…possible. I wanted a life where I could buy a house, have a kid, and not feel like every day was a fight for survival. And I found it here. Now I have a job, a house, a husband of six years, and a daughter who's two and a half. I want to make sure she feels safe all the time. That's why I settled in Tacoma. Every important thing in my life has happened here—our first date was at Doyles, we got married at Elope 253, and I had my daughter at St. Joe's. When we bought a house, I wanted to stay on the Eastside because these are the people I relate to the most.

“Tacoma feels like a place that shows up for people. It’s not perfect, but when you need something, the community steps up. There’s always a way to plug in, to volunteer, to help. That sense of belonging is new to me — in the Bay, you just work yourself to death and hope you’re okay. Here, people actually care. It’s weird and wonderful.

“I’ve never been one for fancy titles or politics, but I’ve been getting ready to run for office. Not because I have all the answers, but because I’m tired of seeing people in charge who’ve never worried about how to pay rent or feed their kids. I want my daughter to grow up in a place where people like us — people who’ve been through some shit — get a seat at the table. Where empathy isn’t just a buzzword.

“My life’s not glamorous. I’ve got a house, a job, and a husband and daughter I adore. But that’s everything to me. And when I see people on Facebook complaining about every little thing, I just want to tell them: Close your eyes. Take a breath. It’s not that bad.

“Because I’ve been through bad. And this? This is beautiful.”

#RootedInCommunity 

Thank you Lindsay for sharing your inspiring journey with us. It’s folks like you who make our community brighter.  Your courage in the face of adversity not only lights a path for others to follow but reminds us all that even our darkest moments can become the foundation for extraordinary growth. 

“There was a time when people said Leonard Peltier would die in prison. That there was no hope. That some causes were just lost. But now, he’s home. There was a time when people said baristas at Starbucks would never unionize. That a company that big, that powerful, couldn’t be touched. Now over 500 stores are fighting for their first contract. And there was a time when they said a grassroots coalition could never take on Tacoma’s political establishment — and win. But now, we have the strongest tenant protections in the state because of Tacoma for All.

“People have always been quick to say what’s impossible. They say we can’t bring salmon back to the Clover-Chambers watershed. That we can’t rebuild the anti-nuclear movement or stop the second arms race. That we can’t even clean up Swan Creek. I am an organizer- and I take "can't" as a challenge.

“The truth is, all those impossible things — they’re only impossible until people decide they aren’t. Until someone gets tired enough of hearing no. I think Silong got tired of hearing no too. I think he’s ready to fight for an Eastside without fear. I think he’s ready to fight for working people the way they deserve. And I think he’s right to be angry — because if you’re not angry right now, you’re not paying attention.

"I'm excited to see what we can get done with another organizer on the city council".

#RootedinCommunity

Thank you, Sean, for your vote of confidence and for standing with our community. Your support means the world, and it’s a powerful reminder of what we can accomplish when we come together. I’m honored to have your endorsement and to stand alongside you in the fight for a stronger, more just future for all.

Saiyare: "We Are Multitudes"

"I'm Chinese and Iranian, and I identify as queer. Growing up, I never felt Iranian enough, Chinese enough, or like I belonged here. I've always been searching for where I'm supposed to be. But over time, I've learned that it's okay to have multiple groups and multiple identities – we are multitudes. We don't have to be one singular thing for anybody’s approval.

“I wanted to be an artist since kindergarten. They asked us what we wanted to be when we grew up. I said a teacher. Or an artist. I didn't know then that I could be both at the same time. I was that kid who would spend hours scribbling while my mom cooked in the kitchen. My parents, who came to the US as teenagers and had to build their lives with very little support, have always encouraged my art. I learned from their example – they were always busy but always supporting community. My mom is constantly volunteering. Growing up, they pushed me to excel – I was definitely an overachiever, in all the clubs, playing sports year-round.

“I went to PLU for college. It was actually discouraging at first – I couldn't get into any art classes. But then I studied in Oaxaca, Mexico, and everything changed. I was radicalized by the street art and political art I saw there. Our teacher when visiting a Zapatista community in Chiapas taught us something I'll never forget. When a peer asked how we could help their people, they said, 'Your country's done enough. Go back to your community – there are problems there. Fix those problems.'

“But my journey hasn't been easy. During my research trip back to Oaxaca, one of the artists I befriended, someone who had helped me understand the potential of community art, sexually assaulted me. I came back for my senior year not really understanding what that meant or how it was impacting me. It took me a while to understand how that moment shaped the rest of my life – how I interact with people, how I build trust, and how I utilize art for healing and connection in community. 

“When I returned to campus, I wanted to create a mural. It evolved into the Parkland Community Mural Project, a year-long community process with over 130 community members involved, that became so much more than just a painting. Parkland is a place people normally bypass – most don't even know the name of this town. But for me, it became the site of one of my most emotionally complex projects. As I was finishing up the mural, my dad was diagnosed with Hodgkin's lymphoma. I was torn between staying to finish this first public art project or being with him as he started treatment. It was Dad who pushed me to stay. 'Keep doing what you're doing,' he said, 'because it's encouraging me to keep going.' It was a lot of pressure, but also spoke to the kind of support my parents have always given me. Their excitement about my work means everything, even if it sometimes means missing crucial moments with them. The mural became a symbol of that complicated balance – between community and family, between staying and going, between art and obligation.

“In 2011, my family went through another crisis when ICE detained one of our family members. For days, we didn't know where they were. There's so much shame around that experience. It took our entire family pulling together $10,000 for bail to get them out. Today, those bonds can be as high as $30,000. That experience led me to activism. My first rally ever was at the detention center a couple years later, holding a handmade sign that said 'Love has no borders.' I started bringing my camera, documenting what was happening to share on social media. I've watched ICE change their tactics over the years – moving people away from their support networks, transferring locals to other states. Two people detained died in there recently, with zero accountability.

“I recently left my day job to become a full-time artist. It's scary – the financial instability, the healthcare concerns. I'm working on murals, printmaking, and planning to illustrate a children's book. I'll be teaching printmaking workshops. But what matters most to me is staying connected to community. I see art as a tool for rapid communication, like social media, but with a deeper process. I worry about how AI and technology are making us skip the learning steps, making us lose the beauty of the creative process.

“I was always the quiet kid in school – the one teachers wished would speak up more in class. Art amplified my voice. Now, when I collaborate with others, we create things I could never make alone. That's what I want to keep doing – challenging the individualism we're taught in this country. If my art resonates with just one person, I've done my job. The world can be terrible, but it's also very beautiful."

#RootedInCommunity 

Thank you, Saiyare, for sharing your powerful journey of identity, art, activism, and resilience—your story reminds us that our deepest struggles can become our greatest source of connection and creative purpose.

"My mother never learned to read or write. That's actually been one of the biggest driving forces in my life - seeing how hard she worked, her incredible grit despite everything stacked against her. We were poor. I went through foster care, dealt with DSHS, even experienced homelessness as a teenager. But there were always people in the community who showed up for us during those critical moments.

"I'm Bangali American, mixed-race, the first Muslim-American to serve in our state legislature. People sometimes ask what motivated me to get into public service. It's really those early experiences - understanding what it means to navigate systems that weren't built for you, knowing what it feels like when someone extends a helping hand when you need it most.

"The path from there to becoming a state senator wasn't straightforward. I worked as legislative director for our attorney general, focusing on everything from preventing gun violence to protecting domestic workers. I helped build better relationships between Tribal governments and the state. Now in the legislature, I'm working on issues close to my heart - tackling homelessness, making housing more affordable, creating opportunities for first-time homeowners.

"My mom's determination, my faith, those community members who helped us - they taught me that change is possible when we show up for each other. Now I have my own family - my husband, our 5-year-old son, 2-year-old daughter, and our cat Jinx. When I look at my kids, I think about my mother who couldn't read or write, but whose strength and resilience helped her daughter become a senator. That's the power of hope and tenacity. That's why I do this work."

#RootedInCommunity 

I'm honored to have earned Sen. Yasmin Trudeau's endorsement, as her journey from experiencing homelessness to becoming a powerful voice for affordable housing and economic justice in Washington state's legislature embodies the transformative change we're fighting for on the Eastside and South End. If this vision of community-driven leadership resonates with you, please join our campaign by donating today at https://bit.ly/silong4citycouncil

Tony: Growing up between worlds

"I grew up between worlds, moving eight times before I finished high school - bouncing between South Texas, the Bay Area, and Southern Arizona. My father was part of the Chicano Movement in the 60s, fighting for Mexican-American civil rights. My mother's family came from Naples in the 1890s, through the Bronx to San Francisco. When you're mixed, you spend the first part of your life feeling like you're not enough of anything. Not Mexican enough, not Italian enough. But eventually, you realize it's not about being 'enough' - you're whole, and all these different parts make you who you are.

“Music became my passport between these worlds. I learned to play Afro-Latin percussion, drawn to the rhythms of the African diaspora in the Americas. The sounds connected me to histories of migration, of people finding ways to preserve their culture through art. But it’s not  just music that draws me in - it’s the stories. Like the story of my great-grandparents crossing from Mexico in 1917, living in a boxcar while my great-grandfather worked for the Southern Pacific Railroad. Or the Nueva Cancion musicians in Chile who used music to resist dictatorship, sometimes paying with their lives.. Those stories shaped how I saw the role of an artist long before I thought I'd become one.

“Now I work with kids in Tacoma's Eastside, building after-school arts programs where students can see themselves in their teachers. In Washington state, about 89% of teachers are white, but in our programs, we make sure the majority of our teaching artists are people of color. We teach folklórico dance, world drumming, hip-hop - art forms that tell our communities' stories. I've watched eight-year-olds grow up in these programs and head off to college, carrying their culture with them.

“Sometimes people question whether we belong here. With all the anti-immigrant rhetoric, you start to question your own worth. But then I think about those kids learning folklórico, about Black students dancing to Latin rhythms, about Asian kids embracing hip-hop - all of them unabashedly leaning into our plurality. That's when we're strongest. And that's what the Eastside has to teach the rest of the city, if they're willing to listen."

#Rootedincommunity 

Investing in our youth is crucial for our community's future. That’s why I will always support accessible after-school programs, mentorship opportunities, and youth job training that celebrates our community's incredible diversity while giving our kids the resources they need to thrive.

"I’ve spent my whole life in Tacoma. It’s home, not just because I was born here, but because I’ve built something here. For 21 years, I’ve worked at the 38th Street Safeway—same aisles, same community, same faces that have grown older alongside me. I know which customers like their produce bagged separately, who just lost a loved one, and who comes in just to chat because they don’t have anywhere else to go.

“Being a shop steward wasn’t part of my plan. But after so many years, you start seeing things—the way workers are treated, the battles fought in break rooms and behind registers. Someone has to speak up, and in 2018, I realized that someone was me. We spend our work days making sure shelves are stocked and customers are cared for, but who looks out for us? I do. And I always will.

“My father was stationed in Thailand, where he met my mother. I grew up mixed—Thai, Khmer, and American. I don’t speak my mother’s language fluently, but I feel it in the way I cook, the way I carry my family’s history with me. In Tacoma, our Southeast Asian community is strong, but we don’t always see ourselves reflected in leadership. That’s why I pay attention. That’s why I care. Because representation matters, and because when you fight for something—whether it’s fair wages or a voice at the table—you’re not just fighting for yourself. You’re fighting for everyone who’s ever felt unseen."

Rooted in community

In District 4, working families are our backbone - and just as this community gave my own refugee family the chance to rebuild, I'll fight to ensure every worker, like Jennifer has the dignity, respect, and fair wages they deserve to build a good life for their families.

We're highlighting diverse stories from across Tacoma, including the Eastside, Southend, and beyond. Through this campaign, we hope to showcase the beauty and vibrant spirit of our community. 

“I wasn't born here - I was a Navy brat. My father was an intelligence officer in the Navy. He was actually born in Laos - my grandfather worked for the U.S. Information Service there in the '50s, before the CIA existed. I spent my teenage years in Singapore, lived in Bahrain, learned Arabic, and traveled all over Southeast Asia. And when I finally settled on the Eastside of Tacoma, I found that same sense of community I knew from Singapore and Asia. Here, everyone has each other's back.

“Now I run my own kind of international house on the Eastside of Tacoma. Seven kids, one bathroom, endless love. We speak Spanish and English at home and people look at us like we're crazy - this big, blended family in a modest craftsman house. Only three of the kids are biologically mine. The others? A niece who needed to escape California. Another who visited and found her home here. Friends' kids who need a place after school.

“We make it work the way families have always made it work - together. Everyone cooks, everyone cleans, everyone contributes. The older ones have jobs. We just got my son his first car, then helped my niece get one too. My other niece isn't working yet, but she takes care of the house by doing laundry, cleaning without being asked. 

“Living in Singapore taught me that family isn't about blood or space or money - it's about community. When I moved to America, I found that same spirit on the Eastside of Tacoma, in immigrant communities. The challenges are what you'd expect - one bathroom, constant noise, the cost of feeding everyone. We haven't had eggs in the house for a week because everything's so expensive. But the kids are amazing and everyone pulls their weight.

“Some people don't understand our way of living. But where I grew up, community wasn't just a word - it was survival, it was family, it was everything. The expectation here is just to be decent people, and the rest will come. Everyone needs a safe place to set your feet, to cry, to laugh, to grow. That's what we're going to give you. Be a good person, and we'll build from there."

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We're highlighting diverse stories from across Tacoma, including the Eastside, Southend, and beyond. Through this campaign, we hope to showcase the beauty and vibrant spirit of our community.

The recent passage of Tacoma For All's Tenant Bill of Rights marks a crucial milestone in protecting our community's housing stability. This initiative ensures families aren't priced out of their homes overnight, prevents winter evictions when displacement is most dangerous, and provides essential protections for vulnerable residents including students, teachers, and seniors.

I support these protections because stable housing is fundamental to a thriving community. I also support these protections because 57% of our neighbors in District 4 voted in favor of the protections. The extended notice periods for rent increases, relocation assistance requirements, and limits on move-in costs create vital safeguards for tenants while maintaining landlords' ability to operate their properties sustainably.

As a concerned community member, I recognize the legitimate concerns raised by landlords, particularly small property owners. The administrative burdens, financial implications of relocation assistance, and extended notice requirements pose real challenges. Many landlords provide essential housing services in our community, and their ability to maintain properties and earn reasonable returns is important for Tacoma's housing ecosystem.

However, I stand firm in my belief that keeping people housed must be our priority. I'm committed to working with both landlords and tenants to refine these protections through constructive dialogue. While traditional solutions like tax incentives for affordable housing have fallen short of their intended impact, we need bold, innovative approaches. This includes exploring public social housing programs that have proven successful in other countries, implementing progressive taxation to ensure wealthy property owners contribute their fair share, and developing new models of housing that prioritize community stability over profit maximization.

This initiative isn't perfect, but it's a vital step toward ensuring housing stability in our community. With continued collaboration and good faith efforts to address all stakeholders' needs, we can build a housing system that works for everyone.

Visit Tacoma For All to learn more. 

"I grew up on the Eastside of Tacoma. Born in San Francisco, we moved here when I was about 5 or 6. My pops was military, and my mom had migrated over from Ghana, West Africa. The Eastside was just this melting pot of immigrants from all over, and that's what I loved about it. That diversity was so normal to us – we didn't have time to say 'oh you're Cambodian' or 'oh you're this.' We were just in community strugglin' together. 

“I went to Roosevelt Elementary, Gault Middle School then Foss High School. Back then, I was all about sports – played basketball and football, but had to choose one because my pops was strict about education. That's how it is with pops from the south and an immigrant mother – education comes first, no compromise. Ball was life for a while, but when sports didn't work out in college, I had to figure out what else I could develop.

“Coming up in the hood, we didn't have resources or fancy equipment – if you wanted to learn something, you had to figure it out yourself. That's how I got into music production – pure necessity. I started in 2008 doing every show available – rap shows, open mics, jazz shows, whatever they'd let me on. I had three fold-out tables set up at my place full with music equipment, just learning techniques day and night. I'd be online researching, talking to engineers like, 'Why do you do this?' or 'What does this frequency mean?' That self-taught engineering became my ticket in. When you can't afford studio time, you learn to be your own engineer.

“Everything changed when I got fired from Boeing for going to the Grammys. My supervisor wouldn't approve my time off, even though I had the vacation days. I went anyway. When I got to LA, I finessed my way onto the red carpet with my homie Paul – two Eastside cats trying to figure it out. That's where Jake One (music producer from Seattle) saw me and asked, 'How the hell did you get on the red carpet?' I told him I was just trying to make something happen because I knew I didn't have a job to go back to.

“He (Jake One) introduced me to Mike from Mike & Keys, who were working with Nipsey Hussle at the time. When I walked up to their studio, Nipsey was sitting in a Suburban outside. I remember thinking, 'Oh, this is real.' They asked who engineered all my tracks, and when I said I did, they offered me a job on the spot. Their engineer had just left the week before and they wanted me to start the next day. But it took me two weeks to pack up my life in Tacoma and move to LA.

“While engineering, I got some major breaks. I ended up with two placements on Macklemore's Gemini album – wrote a hook on “Zara” and Jake One sampled my voice for "Corner Store." That album went platinum. I started my journey working with Kuddie Fresh, who was part of Tha Bizness Productions group, doing demo writing. That’s big bro. Through that work, word got to Big Dho who managed Rapper Big Pooh at the time. Big Pooh who’s become a mentor and brother sent Dr. Dre some of my records, and next thing I know, I'm getting called to Dre's studio. The funny part is, years before, my boy Anthony at an early listening session, looked at me and said, 'I don't know why, but you're going to work with Dr. Dre one day, kid.' I laughed it off – I had no connection to Dre, no idea how that could ever happen

“Then there I was, sitting in Dre's studio, with T.I. and Anderson .Paak watching me work. Dre put me in the infamous hot seat – wanted to see what I was made of. After we finished the song, he kicked everyone out of the room and told me: 'I've been in this game a long time. I've worked with a lot of amazingly talented people. And I can honestly say that you really have a gift.'

“I ended up working with Dre for a year and a half, writing for Anderson .Paak's 'Oxnard' album – wrote some bars for Dre and the hook on 'Mansa' with my boy Thurz of U-N-I. I learned how to mix on analog boards from Dre himself, understanding the difference between digital and analog sound. But what stands out to me most is how the universe works. 

“Growing up on the Eastside of Tacoma, I had to fly out just to see platinum plaques, just to be inspired. Now I've got my own platinum plaques on the wall. When kids come to my studio, I make sure to keep them up. My boy Isaiah convinced me to do it. He said, 'Think about it – you used to have to travel to see these things. Now you can give them that inspiration right here at home.”

Listen to Blakk Soul Music

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We're highlighting diverse stories from across Tacoma, including the Eastside, Southend, and beyond. Through this campaign, we hope to showcase the beauty and vibrant spirit of our community.

"I was 27 when I decided to become a full-time artist. I didn’t really know how to make it work, but I knew I had to try. I moved to Tacoma, and for the first time in my life, I felt like I belonged. I grew up moving around so much that I never had a place that truly felt like home. But Tacoma took me in. It gave me my first opportunities. My first mural was here. My first art studio was here. Without this community, I wouldn’t be where I am today."

"I was born in Querétaro, Mexico. My dad came to the U.S. first, and me, my mom and my two brothers followed when I was five. He made a lot of mistakes, and my childhood was… complicated. I moved from school to school, always having to make new friends, always trying to fit in. Growing up, deportations were just normal to us. We'd go to school Monday and be like 'What happened to Felipe?' 'Oh, he got deported with his family over the weekend.' 'Oh that sucks, he was cool' – and then we'd just move on. I didn't realize how messed up that was until much later. I didn’t realize how much that shaped me until I started telling my story through my art. People would listen and get emotional, and I was confused—this was just my life.

“This girl once saw my piece with someone holding sunflowers, set to a mariachi song. It was the same song they played at her brother's funeral, where they buried him with sunflowers. She felt like her brother was speaking to her through my work, telling her it was okay to move on. That's way more profound than anything I could have intended.

"Being an immigrant is complicated. I love this country, even when it doesn’t love me back. I’ve worked hard to be here, to make a life here. But there are barriers everywhere. There's this saying from a Mexican song about immigrants that America is like a golden cage – it's made of gold, but it's still a cage. A while ago, I was selected to go to Mexico for an artist residency, to meet other Mexican artists from around the world. But I’m a DACA recipient, and I couldn’t go. I spent weeks trying to get my paperwork in order, and I was denied. That same week, my wife’s grandmother was seriously ill, and we tried to go see her family. I was denied again. I had to sit with that—knowing that even with everything I’ve built here, my life is still not fully mine to control.

"My art is about all of it—the beauty and the struggle. I use vibrant colors, but there’s always darkness in there too, because that’s life. I used to think that once I made a living as an artist, I’d be happy. But I wasn’t. I had to find peace within myself. Now, I trust that no matter what happens, I’ll figure it out. Even if I have to start over again. I’ve done it before. I’ll do it again."

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We'll be highlighting diverse stories from across Tacoma, including the Eastside, Southend, and beyond. Through this campaign, we hope to showcase the beauty and vibrant spirit of our community. Thank you Periko The Artist for being our first feature!

I want to address the executive orders issued in the first five days of Trump's presidency that target our LGBTQ+, immigrants, and refugees neighbors and the attack on diversity, equity and inclusion. These rapid-fire actions are designed to overwhelm and exhaust us, but we cannot let fear paralyze our community into inaction. As our marginalized neighbors face unjust attacks on their basic human rights, staying silent in the face of hatred is unacceptable.