Returning to Myself Through Community

My name is Vanessa Haro. I’m the Human Resources Manager at The Women’s Building, and I have been part of the TWB community for over four years.

My family is from Mexico. On my mom’s side, we are from Jalisco, from a small ranch outside of Guadalajara. On my dad’s side, we are from Guanajuato, from a town near León. Being Mexican has shaped so much of who I am. It shows up in how I care for people, how I move through challenges, and how I find ways to make things work even when resources feel limited. There is a kind of creativity and resilience that I carry with me because of that, and it continues to guide me in my work and in my life.

Growing up, my community was my family. I spent a big part of my childhood living in one house with my cousins, aunts, and uncles. We did not have much money, but we had each other, our customs, and our culture. Saturdays were spent watching my uncles play soccer in parks across the city, and Sundays meant church followed by big family meals, which were always my favorite part. I am not particularly religious, but there is something about being in those spaces with my family that still brings me a sense of calm.

At the same time, growing up in the United States often meant feeling like an outsider. My mami migrated here when she was 20, and she worked hard to hold on to what felt familiar and safe. Meanwhile, I just wanted to fit in. Looking back, it feels ironic, because so much of my life now has been about returning to my culture, leaning into it, and reimagining it in ways that actually serve me.

TWB has always been part of my surroundings. I remember passing by the building for as long as I can remember. I was around 10 years old when the mural was completed, and I remember seeing it even then, without fully understanding what it represented.

Years later, when I was looking for a change, I found my way here. I had spent a long time working in for profit spaces and knew I wanted something different. I wanted to be somewhere where people genuinely cared about what they were doing, where the work felt meaningful beyond just clocking in and out every day.

From the beginning, being in an all femme space felt refreshing. My previous workplace had been very male dominated, and it was difficult to feel safe or heard. There were very few women in leadership, and even fewer who spoke up. Being at TWB felt different. It felt like a place where people could show up more fully.

My journey here has not been about changing roles, but about changing internally. I came in carrying a lot of corporate ways of thinking. Even though I knew I wanted something different, it took time to unlearn those patterns and figure out what it meant to work in a space like this without prior nonprofit experience.

What I have learned here, both professionally and personally, is the importance of centering people’s humanity. In the for profit spaces I worked in since I was 15, everything was driven by metrics and money. There is still a balance here, but there is also space for people’s lived experiences. That shift has meant a lot to me.

There have been moments that I hold close. One of them was working on salary increases. I was nervous at first, especially because I had not always felt supported advocating for myself in that area. But it was received with care, and we were able to use data and research to better support our staff.

Another moment that stays with me was the creation of the vacation donation policy. Early on, staff came together asking if they could donate their vacation time to a colleague going through a difficult moment. We acted on it, and I remember feeling deeply moved by both the compassion of the staff and the willingness of leadership to respond quickly. It showed me what this place is capable of.

In my role, I also think about how we reflect the community we serve. Hiring bilingual staff, especially Spanish speakers, and continuing to build a team that mirrors our community is essential. It strengthens our connection and helps ensure people feel understood when they walk through our doors.

Being part of a team that supports Latinx immigrant women and families means contributing to something that matters in both visible and quiet ways. Whether it is through policies or simply being present and listening, it shapes how I approach my work every day.

Looking ahead, I hope TWB continues to create spaces where people can simply be. Spaces where folks can breathe, decompress, and feel held in community. I saw that in our Hilando Resistencia series, and I want to see more of it. So much of what we do is about navigating systems and surviving them. But we also deserve spaces where we are not just surviving, we are connecting, resting, and being cared for.

And I will say this clearly. Spaces like TWB do not exist on their own. They exist because people choose to support them, to believe in them, and to keep them going.

If this place has ever meant something to you, or if you believe spaces like this should exist, I invite you to support us. However that looks for you. Because this kind of space, this kind of care, and this kind of community only continues if we all take part in sustaining it.

If there is one thing I would share with other Latinx women navigating identity, purpose, or leadership, it is this. It is easy to be shaped by what we think our work should look like, based on past experiences or expectations. I felt that especially in human resources, where things can often feel rigid or impersonal. But in this space, I have been able to return to myself and carry that into my work. That matters. And it is something worth holding on to.