Books have been my lifeline for as long as I can remember.

Growing up in a small high school in Puerto Rico, I often felt set apart and labeled as "different" for the things I loved. I was the girl who reached for a book the moment she finished a test, who found joy in quiet pages rather than loud cliques.

Back then, I didn’t know I had ADHD. I just knew that reading calmed me when the world felt overwhelming. Some classmates didn’t understand, and often, that misunderstanding turned into ridicule. But there were people who saw me, such as my parents, my aunt, and my very special ninth-grade English teacher, Ms. Nieves, who remains a treasured friend to this day. They encouraged my love of books, and that encouragement opened a door: first to storytelling, then to writing, and eventually to a career that led me to work at newspapers like The San Juan Star and The Miami Herald as a professional journalist, holding positions in newsrooms and magazines such as those of editor and features writer. While I teach high school and college today full-time, I am still working part-time as a journalist and would not have it any other way. And it’s through reading, diving into imaginary worlds and immersing myself inside the worlds of different books that I found the confidence to, not only embrace myself as who Aurora really is, but I also found the guts to seek and make new friends that also enjoy reading and writing as much as I do.

Reading gave me purpose. It made me feel seen. And as the years passed, it brought me into rooms where I would moderate live interviews with authors like Dana Swift, Elena Armas, Romina Garber, Marie Lu, and Brigid Kemmerer, and many have become dear friends.

I’ve had the privilege of stepping onto stages at events like New York Comic Con and the Miami Book Fair, where the energy of readers connecting over stories always reminds me why I started doing this in the first place. Not just reading, but educating others, and learning from other’s ideas and their backgrounds.

But lately, I’ve watched a shift in the bookish spaces I once found comfort in, especially online. Discussions about authors, content, themes, and publishing norms are important. Necessary, even. I’ll always support transparency, critical thinking, and the right to speak up. Yet, what saddens me is the growing trend of assuming the worst before doing the research or spending countless hours picking each other apart. Yes, some authors have made serious mistakes, and we must acknowledge harm. But readers are human too. Many of us have also made mistakes. Holding space for critique and growth is vital, but when it turns into bullying or exclusion, and assumptions, something gets lost.

I’ve seen this happen firsthand. I’ve been in book clubs that fractured over disagreements that could’ve been discussions. I’ve watched communities, mostly made up of women, turn on one another over preferences, reading speeds, or who owns more books. I’ve watched people get shamed simply for reading something others wouldn’t touch. And yes, I’ve felt the sting of being cast aside for my choices, even when my only intention was to learn from others and share what I love.

We say, “read what you want,” but do we mean it? Do we allow people to explore, question, and grow through stories, even stories we don’t agree with? Do we create space for joy, for nuance, and yes, for critique, without making others feel small?

I don’t believe in silencing anyone. Quite the opposite. I believe in voices, such as diverse, passionate, challenging voices that push the literary world forward. But I also believe in kindness, context, and giving each other room to be human. Every book you see on a shelf was written by someone who took a risk, who poured themselves into a story that might, or might not, resonate. And every reader who picks up that book is doing something beautiful: engaging with imagination, knowledge, and emotion. That should never be mocked.

Today, as an educator, journalist, columnist ("Reading Rainbow"), and all-around cosplay-loving book nerd, I continue to read widely and thoughtfully. I write honestly. I critique professionally. And above all, I still believe in the magic that happens when readers connect, and it thrills me when I see in-person and social media posts and reels where thoughtful debates are being had. There are many of those, and it’s refreshing to watch and listen to these types of creators. Disagreements will happen. But they can be conversations, not competitions or even reels upon reels, posts upon posts, all full of the type of arguments and quick conversations that might at times be misunderstood or hurtful. This might not be intentional, yet the world of the internet in the literary spaces has become a blur. I’m hopeful that one day it’ll step away beyond speaking only about drama and negative moments (which should, of course, be mentioned) but also the positive, which seems to be buried by algorithms that prefer clicks. And, unfortunately, negativity seems to get the most screen time.

So, here’s my wish: Let’s bring joy back to reading. Let’s support each other, uplift one another, and, when needed, disagree with grace. Let’s be mindful of the words we type and the people we might be reaching or unintentionally hurting. Let’s remember that “fun” doesn’t mean “mindless.” Breaking down a story, analyzing its themes, or even passing it on to someone who might enjoy it more, that’s all part of the joy too.

Reading saved me once. It still does. And no matter where this journey takes me, I’ll always be that little girl with a book in her hand and hope in her heart.

Let’s make the book community a place she would feel welcome at today.