Life & Work with Carolina of Miami
June 5, 2025
This article originally appeared in VoyageMIA.
Carolina Fernández at Books & Books in Coral Gables for a We Are Immigrants book reading and signing. Jan. 11, 2025. Photo credit: Taylor Neverman.
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Today we’d like to introduce you to Carolina.
Alright, so thank you so much for sharing your story and insight with our readers. To kick things off, can you tell us a bit about how you got started?
It all started with stories.
First, of heroes. Then, with the dawn of Mulan and Hermione, heroines — girls who were brave and sharp and certain of who they were. Stories of princesses whose real voices I wanted to hear. Stories of little boys who grew up speaking to trees.
I loved escaping into stories — not just because they were far more interesting than my quotidian life of homework and chores and sharing everything with my sisters, but because they had something to say in a way only they could say it. They carried meaning in a way only stories can.
Often, the stories came in the form of songs that coursed through my veins, flowed out through my singing lungs and dancing feet. They made me feel free and fully me, with a rhythm so smooth, sweet, and tropical — like the Caribbean shores of Colombia where my family is from. Songs like “Carito” by Carlos Vives, and “La Rebelión” by Joe Arroyo. Not just music, but tales that rang real in me with memory, identity, roots.
From my youngest years, stories brought the world around me to life in a way that merely living couldn’t do — and I knew from the start that someday I was going to tell stories, too.
My lifelong endeavor has been putting words to the thoughts that refuse to stay trapped in my head. It has always felt this way — like the words, anchored in some feeling or revelation or search for clarity, simply must break free. Like I have no choice in the matter.
In elementary school, I’d write mediocre poems for my parents and stories for my journal’s eyes only, the physical manifestation of daydreams. As a teen, I turned to writing songs, essays, anything, as a way to make sense of the feelings and questions, the nonstop telenovela energy trademarked by adolescence. Then, I wrote for my college newspaper and published reflective “think pieces” on my Tumblr and MySpace, like an undergrad’s Dear Abby column no one asked for.
I was lucky enough to land a covetable job after college. This was somewhat miraculous considering the U.S. economy was still recovering from the Great Recession. I was hired by Hallmark as its first bilingual creative writer, which meant moving from Miami, Florida to Kansas City, Missouri.
There, I was trained by the best and spent six years honing my craft, writing for anyone in any situation, in words that (ideally) felt like exactly what they wanted to say. It was at Hallmark, among some of the most talented writers and kindest humans I know, where I learned that empathy is as much a universal language as it is an endless well that any writer, any person, can always tap into.
The skills I acquired in the early stages of my career anchored me in a passion for thoughtful writing, meaningful messaging, and storytelling that shimmers with originality. For example, I remain obsessed with Hamilton (yes, the musical) and convinced that it is the most brilliant piece of art created in my lifetime. While that is, of course, arguable, I aspire to that level of craft discipline and originality; Lin-Manuel Miranda is one of my greatest inspirations as a writer, and his style — particularly his way with rhythm and wordplay — were in my head, pushing me as I wrote my first published book, a children’s book called We Are Immigrants (2024).
Now I’m working on a few other writing projects, fiction novels about characters who feel like they’re actually alive in me, constantly peeking their heads out to notice something, say something — in a way only they could say it.
We all face challenges, but looking back would you describe it as a relatively smooth road?
I would never deny how fortunate and privileged I’ve been throughout my life. Despite facing my parents’ divorce when I was about 13 and navigating the myriad complexities that pervaded family life in the years that followed, I grew up in a loving, supportive family and a home where I always had everything I needed. Then, unlike many of my friends who had to either settle for jobs they didn’t like or get an additional degree, I scored a job I loved right out of college. Again, I consider this somewhat miraculous.
That said, moving from Miami to Kansas City alone at age 22, I learned fast about the world as it was. From thwarting creeps at bars to struggling with my mental health for the first time, the road at times was rocky—in ways that, I suspect, most young adults experience when they leave the flock and venture out on their own.
Now, as a 35-year-old, I’ve lived in four different cities throughout my adult life, overcome a couple of major health challenges, and even survived my own divorce. Looking back, however, all I see is the light. Sparks of light guiding my path like lanterns through a foggy night. I call them friends, sisters, family. In my memory, their brightness eclipses any darkness I went through. They showed me what mattered and what I was made of.
I presume (albeit based on no surveying or data whatsoever) that most people who look back on their lives to date wouldn’t say the road was always smooth. I don’t think real life is like that for the vast majority of us. But that — just that great unifying truth — is what makes being alive here on earth with each other so magnificent. It lets us all tap into that endless well of empathy so we can be a lantern for someone else, reflecting what is true and reminding one another of the immeasurable strength that’s innate to every single one of us.
Thanks for sharing that. So, maybe next you can tell us a bit more about your work?
I’m a published children’s book author and a not-yet-published novelist. My mind is always overflowing with stories that I now channel into fiction novels, whether rooted loosely in real-life characters (like a novel I wrote about three sisters on a quest to solve a family mystery) or other phenomena that have always fascinated me (like political rebellions or the untouchable, unknowable lives of the mega-famous).
Right now I think I’m known for We Are Immigrants, an upbeat and uplifting children’s book published in 2024 (Hachette Book Group) which celebrates the universal timelessness of the immigrant story. I’m deeply proud of that book, of how it’s been received by kids and families of all stripes, and the special meaning it’s taken on in today’s climate. While just about any book can be politicized these days, We Are Immigrants carries a message that really anyone — whether it reflects their own family story or someone else’s — can read and say, “Yeah, that’s just true.”
I believe there’s a way to say even something complex or potentially controversial with honesty and care, in a way that invites people in rather than shuts them out. And I think story has a unique power to do exactly that.
It’s not always easy to pinpoint what sets oneself apart from others. But for me, I think it’s probably emotional intelligence. Since I was a kid, I’ve always carried a quiet confidence that, now that I’m older, I suspect has stemmed from my EQ. I’ve always had a strong sense of who I am and an easy way of connecting with others. I understand what people are feeling, even when they don’t say it out loud.
In everyday life, I hope to make people feel genuinely seen and heard, and in my work, I hope my characters do the same — that they feel fully human, and familiar to anyone who meets them on the page.
How can people work with you, collaborate with you or support you?
You can buy We Are Immigrants anywhere books are sold! It’s available at any big retailer (Barnes & Noble, Target, Amazon). If it’s not available at your local bookstore, you can always request they place an order. Because let’s be real, we need to keep local bookstores alive and strong. Thank you in advance for getting a copy! I hope you love it.
Also, it’s especially important to support immigrant families right now, even those with lawful status, like green cards, visas, or TPS. This is a scary and unstable time for noncitizen immigrants across the U.S. Find out what local and national organizations are doing to support immigrant communities. Get involved however you can.
So much is changing day to day. The very definition of a constitutional democracy — as laid out by our founders — is being twisted and misshapen before our eyes, so fast it’s hard for anyone to keep up and see it clearly. Seek out truth from reliable, fact-based sources. None are perfect, but many are doing the work. Stay sharp and speak your conscience even if it feels scary. You’re not alone — we’re all out here with you, doing the same in our own corners of the world.
Apart from that, let’s keep supporting each other and believing that we, and only we, can bring in a brighter tomorrow. The billionaires in charge will never look out for us and never be honest. Our only hope is in continuing to demand the fairness, justice, and truth we all deserve.
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If ICE comes to our schools, Miami should follow the example of these communities
By Carolina Fernández
April 25, 2025
This op-ed was originally published in the Miami Herald.
A few weeks ago in Sackets Harbor, a small town in upstate New York, a third grader was pulled out of class and arrested, while the child’s siblings—10th and 11th graders—were removed from school in handcuffs. Their mother was arrested soon after. Although the family had been attending court hearings to secure legal status, all four were sent to ICE detention.
It’s the kind of story that seems far away—until it isn’t. And here in South Florida, where immigration enforcement has become increasingly aggressive, the fear of such incidents happening in our own communities has intensified.
In Sackets Harbor that day, the teachers sprang into action, calling elected officials, advocacy groups, anyone who might help bring the family home. A social studies teacher used ICE’s detainee locator and found the family had been transferred more than 1,700 miles away—to a detention center in Texas.
Then, fueled by Principal Jaime Cook’s urgent letter, the town mobilized.
Sackets Harbor—where Donald Trump won by double digits in 2024—saw about 1,000 of its 1,364 residents rise up and demand the family’s release. They called, they marched, and they didn’t stop.
Until they won.
ICE gave in and returned the family to their community.
Across the country in Los Angeles, Department of Homeland Security agents appeared at two elementary schools to “investigate.” When the principals requested identification, the agents hesitated, then refused to let their information be written down. They falsely claimed to have parental consent to access the children. But the school staff, prepared for this, stood firm.
Only after LAUSD’s legal team intervened and school board police were dispatched did the agents leave.
“No federal agency has the authority, short of a judicial warrant—that means the equivalent of a criminal subpoena—to enter our schools,” said LAUSD Superintendent Alberto Carvalho, former superintendent of Miami-Dade County Public Schools. “We will protect our kids… We will not allow abuse or intimidation of our children or our workforce.”
But what would’ve happened if those principals hadn’t held the line? And what about schools without that training and infrastructure? In Sackets Harbor, what if Principal Cook, the teachers, and residents hadn’t raised their voices so unignorably? Imagine where that mother and her three children would be now.
Zooming out, we have to ask how many others are being quietly taken from classrooms or homes without due process, their neighbors left scrambling for answers. Everyone in this country, even non-citizens, has a constitutional right to due process. Our Founders enshrined it into our laws to prevent exactly this: extrajudicial arrests, rule by fear, and the unchecked power of a single man.
The Trump administration’s border czar Tom Homan, who is from Sackets Harbor, has said, “We’re gonna prioritize those with convictions. We’re gonna prioritize national security threats… You gotta get the worst first.”
It’s safe to say that violent gang members are not hiding in elementary schools. So why are federal agents—funded by our tax dollars—showing up at public schools to investigate and arrest children?
The communities of Los Angeles and Sackets Harbor offer a blueprint for protecting our most vulnerable. They show us what it looks like to defend our people and our Constitution through collective resistance—from the ground up. When it's our turn to defend children and families in our communities, we must join forces and not back down until they're granted the justice we're all entitled to under the law.
As Superintendent Carvalho, himself once an undocumented immigrant, said:
“Do not underestimate the power of the immigrant child, who may very well become an adult who does well and good by America.”
We all, especially this administration, would be wise to listen.
I would only add: do not underestimate the power of communities to safeguard our own.
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