Culture, Leadership and Remembering Papi

This week, my business partners and I will be attending the Latinas in Leadership Symposium again at the Connecticut Convention Center. This is an annual, single-day Latina-identity conference focused on leadership and empowerment talks and workshops with Latinas in all work segments—from business and entrepreneurship to media and medicine. This event is always full of fun, cultural pride, and progress. We have been fortunate to participate as both attendees to the Symposium and as vendors, spotlighting our small business and sharing with our community.

Creative Jam Art Co. representing at the Latinas in Leadership Symposium May 29, 2025. Owners pictured left to right: Irmie Sauntinez (author), Brendaliz Ayende, Marlo Marrero Fernandez.

This year’s upcoming symposium is hitting differently for me, carrying a hovering cloud of sadness. The day after last year’s symposium, I received a call that my father had passed away. He had been battling heart failure for several years, and my mom, knowing I had a busy week with Creative Jam, had kept from telling me that he was quickly declining those last few days. I knew it was inevitable, but there’s no way to really prepare for the loss of a parent.

I keep lots of notes and musings on my phone—inspiring quotes, interesting facts, to-do lists—and today I scrolled through an excellent quote I recorded last year, though I failed to record who said it:

“We don’t get mentorship as first-generation Latinas.”

I am a first-generation Latina. My parents each came alone to the mainland U.S. as teenagers from Puerto Rico in the mid-1950s and early 1960s, each looking for more opportunities. This was the period just after the island of Puerto Rico was given Commonwealth status and residents were provided U.S. citizenship. Like many first-generation kids, I grew up hearing stories about how hard things were on the island. My father was one of 10 kids growing up on a tobacco farm, with just one pair of shoes he was expected to keep clean and in good shape for school, walking barefoot several miles each day. Their family home had a dirt floor and a wood-burning stove. It’s really such a classic story of the American dream, the kind we don’t hear so often anymore.

Papi (the baby) with his older siblings in 1940.

My father lived his life knowing that he would do things differently than his parents had. He wanted to be the father he needed as a kid. He was forced to drop out of school, struggled, worked hard, and dealt with prejudice and injustice, all so that his children would have a leg up in life. He provided my brother and me with a stable, loving, supportive home. He believed that his job was to make sure we had an education, and he did what he could to ensure we had no barriers to that goal.

I am fortunate that I did get an education; I received my B.S. in Studio Art & Business from the City University of New York back in 2004 and have been working full-time ever since. However, moving through life, I have seen how education alone is not enough to achieve what many of us consider success. Many of my peers, who seemed far ahead of me, had something vital that I did not have: a mentor.

Mi Papi, Luis Martinez, at his desk in the basement of General Tools on 80 White Street, NYC circa 1980.

My father used to work in the warehouse of a tool and hardware manufacturer in Manhattan, where he would pack orders for shipping. He would tell me a story about when he was a young man and had just started working at that business—the same one he eventually retired from. Each morning before work, he would stop in at a local diner to get some coffee and became friendly with some of the regulars. He would often chat with an older Jewish man. This man took an interest in my father and one day asked him if he was saving for retirement. My father knew nothing of that. The man sat him down and explained how 401(k)s and (back then) profit-sharing plans worked. He stressed how important it was to do that for his future.

When my father finally retired, he often brought up this man. He knew his life would have been greatly different if this stranger had not taken a moment to advise him. After renting apartments for over 50 years, my father was able to purchase a home and had plenty left over to live the rest of his years in comfort. Not many of his own peers had been able to do this; many still rely on their children for help supplementing their incomes.

Yet, my father was an incredibly cautious person, especially with his finances, and would never take a chance on hurting his livelihood—sometimes to a fault. He passed up so many opportunities because he didn’t have anyone in his circle with the knowledge to tell him he should just go for it.

Me and papi, circa 1983

Although I learned many lessons from my father—like: don’t ever carry any credit card debt, these should be kept for emergencies only! Or: as soon as a bill arrives in the mail, PAY IT! Otherwise, it will sit in a pile on your desk somewhere until you forget about it—there were so many other lessons I have learned throughout my own life that would have served me well having learned them sooner.

Attending events like the Latinas in Leadership Symposium really hits deeply for this exact reason. It’s almost like sitting in a room with all your cousins. They know what it’s like growing up in your household, they understand your family’s quirks, and they are there to laugh and cry with you.

One of our missions at Creative Jam Art Co. is helping to provide this missing mentorship to our staff, who are mostly high school and college students. We feel deeply how important it is to pour into our young people and share these gems of experience that will hopefully launch them into their full potential.

So, as I prepare to attend this year’s symposium, I’m thinking of you, Papi. Thank you for the lessons you knew to teach me, and for all the support you knew how to give. You set me up to receive from those who led me the rest of the way.

As far as the lessons I can pass on to others who are navigating their own paths without a roadmap, here are a few that come to mind:

• Go to the thing and talk to the person. Being open to connecting with people can open doors you didn't even know existed.

• Keep in touch with old classmates. You never know when your career paths may cross or benefit each other.

• Keep in touch with your teachers and professors, especially those in your field of choice. They can help connect you in ways that can be challenging to do on your own.

• Do the thing you love, even if it seems like it won’t earn a lot at first. If you love it, the money will come.

• Surround yourself with doers—they will inspire you to do.

• It’s okay to take that leap and bet on yourself. You might just surprise yourself.