From Cafecito to Community: Why I Built Masachapa
A Latina Veteran’s Vision for Healing, Work, and Belonging
Imagine this: The sun is setting over adobe walls. The air smells like tortillas on the comal. Kids laugh near the pond while their parents swap stories under string lights. Aiden tosses a baseball to his dad, and I’m swaying in a hammock, laptop in my hand, cafecito on the table next to me, watching it all unfold.
This isn’t a retreat. It’s not a coworking space. This is Masachapa, the community I dreamed into being.
And it all started with a journal entry, a digital artist, and one powerful question: "What does your future feel like?"
What Sparked the Vision: A Veteran's Invitation to Imagine
About a year and a half ago, my bestie Stacey told me about a project she did where she worked with a digital artist to visualize her future. If you know me, you already know: I'm all about vision boards, purpose, and dreaming with intention. So when the opportunity came up to join the Veteran Imagination Project (VIP) in August, I was intrigued.
But also? Hesitant. Because in my mind, I was already living my dream. I had a career I loved that didn’t feel like work at all.
Then I spoke to one of the coordinators who encouraged me to apply, especially because they were looking for Women Veterans. So I said yes.
And I’m so glad I did.
What Is the Veteran Imagination Project?
The VIP was created by Marine Corps veteran Bob Beard in collaboration with ASU's Center for Science and the Imagination. It helps veterans navigate the radical transition from military to civilian life using tools like futures thinking, narrative development, and digital storytelling.
Their philosophy is simple but profound:
"Veterans deserve the same future-crafting tools as Fortune 500 CEOs."
I wasn’t part of the original ASU cohort, but I got to participate in a similar experience where I paired with a mentor, explored speculative futures, and worked with digital artist Ray Lopez to bring my story to life.
Each week, we had journal prompts, trendspotting activities, gratitude check-ins, and reflections on what change could look like. It wasn’t homework, it was soulwork.
Why We Need a Place Like Masachapa
If you're a woman, a mother, a Latina, or a veteran (or all of the above like me), you’ve probably felt the ache:
The hustle fatigue.
The isolation of remote work.
The deep craving for connection that isn’t curated through a screen.
The pandemic cracked something open for many of us. For me, it became a portal. I left a toxic work environment. Juggled two part-time jobs to stay afloat. Showed up for my son Aiden’s school life. Subbed classes. Coached friends. Rewrote boundaries.
All the while, I was journaling about a space. A sacred space.
A place where:
Veterans could reconnect to purpose without bureaucracy.
Creatives could collaborate without competition.
Parents could work without guilt.
And rest wasn’t earned, it was expected.
I wanted a space that said: You belong here. As you are.
What Masachapa Means To Me
The name "Masachapa" is more than nostalgic. It’s personal.
Every summer, my family would flood a little U-shaped beach hotel in Fort Lauderdale. Abuela would be cooking in one suite while my tío Martin (who had Down Syndrome) would laugh nonstop, calling the beach Massachapa, after a beloved coastal town in Nicaragua.
It became our secret codeword for joy.
There were sandcastles and slow-churn ice cream. Impromptu karaoke nights and crab hunts under moonlight.
That hotel is gone now. But the memory remains alive through Massachapa, our future-forward community infused with ancestral love.
The Challenges That Brought the Dream Into Focus
I love my job. But remote life gets lonely.
Sure, we have Google Meets. But I miss the watercooler convos, the "you had to be there" laughter, the spontaneous collaboration. And coworking options in Arizona? Let’s just say they’re not exactly accessible to those of us in the West Valley.
That’s why Massachapa will be built right here.
No more than 30 minutes from my home. A place to gather without commuting across the city. A place for us, by us.
Massachapa Is...
A courtyard humming with music and belonging.
A community garden that feeds more than bellies.
A storytelling stage, a kids' center, a hammock haven.
A workshop space where veterans teach purpose.
A café where elders mentor with wisdom and warmth.
A place where the sacred and the everyday dance over tacos.
It’s not just a dream.
It’s a blueprint for a future that works because it centers people.
So Why Write This Now?
Because you might be holding onto a scribble in your journal that deserves to breathe. Because the future is made of small decisions to believe again. Because the world needs more spaces like Massachapa.
And, if no one’s told you lately: Your vision is valid. Your dream is possible. Your future is worth imagining.
Bienvenidos a Massachapa.
Where healing is real. Work feels human. And community tastes like cafecito and canela.
Call to Action:
What would your version of Massachapa look like? Tell me in the comments, or better yet, start sketching it. The future is ours to build.
Read More on Purpose in these past blog posts:
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I’m not a therapist, psychologist, or doctor — and I don’t pretend to be. Everything I share is rooted in my lived experience. Please consult a licensed professional for personalized support.
If you're in crisis, call 911 or contact the 988 Lifeline. You're not alone. Real help exists, and you deserve it.