5 Books That Changed My Life
Reading saved me
The 5 Books That Changed My Life
We are living through an era where books are being banned at record speed. Entire stories, many of them written by Black, queer, Indigenous, and immigrant authors.
They are disappearing from classrooms, shelves and digital platforms. And we know why, books are dangerous to those who benefit from ignorance. They expand our worldview. They stretch our empathy. They remind us of our shared humanity.
I wasn’t always the best reader, I even had to repeat the 4th grade because I was reading on a first grade level. So I know all too well, that reading is a gateway to endless possibilities. To read about the lives of others. To pass down stories that were almost lost. To commit to lifelong learning, is not just as a personal choice, but as an act of resistance — of self and culture preservation.
Books have always been my teachers. They’ve helped me lead with more empathy, speak with more clarity, and move through the world with a deeper sense of responsibility. Here are five that changed my life and I revisit often.
The Rose That Grew from Concrete — Tupac Shakur
When I first opened Tupac’s collection of poetry, I felt like I was being given permission to be both tender and strong. His words carried the weight of survival, but also the beauty of dreaming beyond the limits society places on us. As a firstborn daughter, navigating responsibility and expectation, this book reminded me that resilience can be poetic. That even when the soil is hard and the light feels scarce, it’s possible to grow and thrive.
The Alchemist — Paulo Coelho
I read The Alchemist for the first time shortly after the 2016 election, when I felt restless, unsure of where my path was leading. Coelho’s story of Santiago searching for his “personal legend” gave me language for something I already knew but didn’t trust: that life is not linear, and leadership requires faith. It reminded me that detours aren’t failures, they are the journey. To this day, I carry with me the lesson that the pursuit of purpose requires listening to your heart, even when the world doubts you and especially when you doubt yourself.
All About Love — bell hooks
bell hooks changed the way I think about love, showed me that even I too was deserving and not as sentiment, but as practice. She taught me that love is accountability, justice, care, and courage. For me, as a leader, this book demanded that I reimagine authority not as power over people, but as responsibility to the people. It sharpened my belief that love must be at the center of every movement, every policy, every action. Because without love, there is no liberation. It’s what makes any of this even worth it.
My Grandmother’s Hands — Resmaa Menakem
Reading Menakem’s My Grandmother’s Hands felt like holding a mirror up to myself and to my community. His exploration of radicalized trauma didn’t just give language to what I already sensed; it made visible the quiet ways our bodies have been carrying grief, fear, and resilience across generations.
I grew up surrounded by women whose strength was undeniable, but so was their pain. Women weighted by the reality of past hurt and the trauma that lived quietly in our homes, our gestures, our silences. Menakem’s work offered me more than theory; it offered understanding. It gave me the language and the tools to recognize what my own body was holding, to trace where that tension and vigilance came from, and to name the inheritance I never asked for but always felt.
I Wonder as I Wander — Langston Hughes
Langston Hughes really messed me up… in the best way. That man was a whole badass, traveling across continents in the middle of global chaos, with barely any money, and while being a Black man in a deeply hostile world. That’s bravery with a passport. Through his adventures, I gave myself permission to be curious. To stop assuming my experience was universal. To ask better questions. To wander; often with no map, no plan, just vibes and good intentions.
But what really stuck with me was how deeply he journey was on community — not just the one he came from, but the ones he built along the way. From ports to poetry salons, Hughes moved through the world with an openness that made people want to feed him, house him, translate for him, and trust him. Not because he was famous, but because he was present. He taught me that curiosity doesn’t have to be lonely. Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is admit you need people and let them show up for you. His travels weren’t just courageous; they were a love letter to what’s possible when you move through the world with both softness and spine.
Each of these books reshaped me; making me a more empathetic, grounded, and courageous leader. But maybe more importantly, they reminded me of the sacredness of reading itself.
In this time of censorship, and fear, I hold my bookshelf like a lifeline. Because reading will give us the tools to create the world we all deserve. It is one of the few acts that can simultaneously root us in our truth and expand us beyond it.
So I’ll keep reading. I’ll keep learning. I’ll keep turning the pages of voices some would rather silence. Because to read is to resist. And to resist is to stay alive to the possibility of a better world.