Alright – so today we’ve got the honor of introducing you to Carmen Valencia. We think you’ll enjoy our conversation, we’ve shared it below.

Hi Carmen, thanks for joining us today. Let’s start with a story that highlights an important way in which your brand diverges from the industry standard.

Something I do differently from the industry standard is choosing not to give more airtime or space to the very systems that cause harm. In journalism, we’re often taught that holding institutions accountable means giving them equal voice or platform — but in my experience, that can sometimes amplify harmful rhetoric rather than challenge it. I’ve worked on stories early in my career that, in hindsight, I’m not proud of — stories that unintentionally glamorized agencies like Border Patrol instead of pushing back on the harm they’ve caused.

Listening to journalists like María Hinojosa and platforms like Latino USA helped me realize the kind of journalist I want to be — one who leads with integrity, but also isn’t afraid to center community, to name injustice, and to be unapologetically values-driven. I’ve learned that it’s okay to be both a journalist and an activist. It’s not a weakness — it’s a responsibility. And I’m no longer ashamed of embracing that.

Awesome – so before we get into the rest of our questions, can you briefly introduce yourself to our readers.

My name is Carmen Valencia. I’m a proud Latina independent journalist with deep roots in the Arizona borderlands, now based in San Diego. I often say I’m a “border girl” at heart — a phrase that carries the weight of my upbringing, my identity, and the lens through which I see the world. I’m the daughter of Mexican immigrants who crossed borders in search of opportunities they couldn’t find at home. Growing up near the U.S.-Mexico border shaped not only how I view people, place, and power, but also ignited the purpose that guides me as a storyteller.

My path to journalism wasn’t linear. I started college as a psychology major until a close friend at the time, who was studying journalism, invited me to experience what life in that field looked like. I started sitting in on classes, meeting professors, and learning more about the craft — and I was immediately drawn in. I eventually switched majors and never looked back. From that moment on, I threw myself into every assignment, every interview, every story — always with integrity and care. Professors like Dr. Celeste González de Bustamante and Rogelio Garcia didn’t just teach me — they believed in me. They were my biggest champions, constantly reminding me that I could be and do anything I set my heart on. It was in their classes — whether traveling to Nogales, Mexico City, Costa Rica, or in the senior capstone course I took with Rogelio — that I fell in love not just with storytelling, but with the human connection journalism makes possible. Their mentorship took me beyond the classroom and into communities whose stories deserve to be told with dignity. That foundation lit a fire in me that still fuels every piece I work on today.

I’ve been a journalist for eight years, telling stories that center immigration, politics, and social justice — from Yuma to Tucson, and later in Los Angeles, where I worked for Yahoo News as a video correspondent focused on long-form immigration reporting. I then joined Spectrum News, covering local communities across the city. Along the way, I became a two-time Emmy Award-winning journalist and received an Associated Press award for a story I reported out of Tijuana.

While I’m proud of what I accomplished in local TV news, I knew deep down that I was meant for something more expansive — something rooted in creativity, community, and freedom. After years of working in local TV news and facing a decline in my mental health, I made the difficult decision to step away. That pause turned into a powerful pivot. I began pursuing independent journalism on my terms, while also stepping into a content creation role at a nonprofit that fights for immigrant rights. This new chapter has been the most fulfilling yet. I’ve had the privilege of collaborating with universities, national media platforms, and community-driven outlets to continue what I love most: telling stories that reflect, uplift, and empower the Latino community.

As an independent journalist, I’ve been able to explore audio documentaries, in-depth video series, podcasting, and filmmaking — all while centering my community and actively working to break harmful narratives about Latinos. This chapter isn’t just about storytelling — it’s about reclaiming the lens through which our stories are told.

What do you find most rewarding about being a creative?

For me, the most rewarding part of being an independent journalist is the opportunity to truly connect with people — to sit with them, listen to their lived experiences, and honor their stories with care. Every conversation is a chance to build trust, to learn, and to understand the world through someone else’s eyes. But what means the most to me is being able to maintain those relationships beyond the story. It’s not just about the reporting — it’s about the connection. That ongoing bond, that mutual respect, is what fuels my work and reminds me why I chose this path in the first place.

Let’s talk about resilience next – do you have a story you can share with us?

I’ve struggled with mental health challenges for most of my life, and navigating the world of journalism while carrying those personal battles hasn’t always been easy. Telling stories that are often rooted in tragedy, while also holding space for your own emotional well-being, is a tremendous weight to carry. One story that deeply impacted me — both emotionally and mentally — was that of Sheyla Castillo, a 10-year-old girl from Guatemala who was seeking refuge in the U.S. with her mother. They were fleeing political instability and gang violence, only to find themselves stuck in limbo, awaiting their asylum case in a shelter in Mexicali, Baja California.

For over two years, I followed their journey. I traveled to Tijuana to sit in on their asylum court hearings, and I watched Sheyla celebrate birthdays inside that shelter, surrounded by other children who shared a similar fate. Eventually, their asylum case was approved — a rare moment of hope. They relocated to the East Coast, but not long after, during a routine check-in with ICE, they were detained and sent back. To this day, I’ve never heard from Sheyla or her mother again. The shelter lost contact. No one has been able to find them.

This story broke me.

What’s more complicated is that this was the very story I won an Associated Press award for — and with that recognition came an overwhelming sense of guilt. I had been celebrated for shedding light on a system that ultimately failed Sheyla and her mother. It felt unjust to be recognized for a story that had such a heartbreaking and unresolved ending.

Still, it’s stories like Sheyla’s that fuel my purpose as a journalist. Her story — and so many others like it — remind me why I do this work: to challenge harmful narratives, to humanize our communities, and to hold systems accountable for the people they fail. I carry Sheyla’s story with me always. It reminds me that storytelling is not just about informing — it’s about honoring lives, especially the ones we don’t hear from again.

Contact Info:

• Instagram: carmenvalencianews
• Linkedin: Carmen Valencia

Image Credits

These photos have been taken by me: Carmen Valencia