The Where I Live series aims to showcase our diverse city and region by spotlighting its many vibrant neighborhoods. Each week a local resident invites us over and lets us in on what makes their neighborhood special. Have we been to your neighborhood yet? Get in touch to share your story. If your story is selected and published, you will receive a $250 stipend.
My family’s story on the East Side began more than 20 years ago, when my grandma migrated to the United States. My parents followed her in the early 2000s, settling in San Antonio where I was born in 2004. Even though this city is technically where my life began, immigration shaped my family’s path, influencing the choices my parents made and the environment I experienced as a child. I grew up in Mexico, not realizing I was an American citizen until I got older.
Growing up in Mexico meant losing a part of my identity — a struggle familiar to many children of immigrants striving to reconcile their Mexican heritage. For those whose parents couldn’t fulfill the American Dream, the challenge lies in defining what it means to be American. My story is not unique; it reflects the reality of many children whose lives are shaped by borders they did not choose, and whose sense of home is constantly questioned.
Like many kids in Mexico, I heard stories about the American Dream, imagining what life might be like just a 10 hour drive away. Then, in 2021, the pandemic changed everything. At 16 years old, I made the difficult decision to leave my entire life behind — my family, my friends, everything I knew — to pursue something I couldn’t yet fully name. When I finally arrived on the East Side, I had no idea how deeply this community was about to shape me.
Alynn Jimenez Miranda poses for a portrait in the living room of her grandmother’s home on the East Side. Alynn has returned from Trinity University for the holiday break and the family is celebrating a sibling’s graduation. Credit: Clint Datchuk for the San Antonio Report
Since then, I’ve seen so many different perspectives of my neighborhood by working at different places — from the local McDonald’s to Mexican restaurants nearby — and every person who shared a piece of their life with me showed me the same thing: resilience, warmth and a deep love for this community.
At Sam Houston High School, home of the Hurricanes, I was welcomed with open arms from the first day and the people there taught me valuable lessons I still carry with me.
Mr. Cavazos, my history teacher, sat with me every morning before the bell rang to help me learn English, never making me feel ashamed for not knowing it. Instead, he and others encouraged me to use my Spanish to connect with bilingual students and even give the school announcements.
Ms. Dixon, the former principal, taught me how much a simple smile and a good morning can change your day. And Mr. Mims, a true pillar of the East Side, showed me what it feels like to be seen, supported and believed in. More than anything, the East Side taught me that everyone is valued here, no matter the language you speak or where you come from.
A wall in the East Side home of Alynn Jimenez Miranda is adorned with flowers, plants, Christmas decorations, and artwork. Credit: Clint Datchuk for the San Antonio Report
Now, as a student at Trinity University, I’ve had the chance to see other parts of the city, the country and even the world. But nothing feels quite like the comfort I feel every time I drive back to my grandma’s house. It still surprises me how different life can feel just fifteen minutes away.
One thing I’ve learned is that a lack of opportunity isn’t always about a lack of resources. Sometimes it’s simply not having anyone around you who has done what you dream of doing or that believes that you can do it.
From navigating life on the East Side as a 16-year-old with no plan, to attending one of the best colleges in Texas and even sitting at a desk on Capitol Hill from an internship, I always try to return to Sam Houston and the surrounding schools. I keep in touch with the young girls I met while working shifts at Bill Miller’s, McDonald’s, and local restaurants because I want them to see what I didn’t always see growing up and understand that their dreams are possible, no matter their zip code or the language they speak.
Alynn Jimenez Miranda holds the family cat Mechón alongside her grandmother Maria Teresa in the dining room of their home on the East Side. Credit: Clint Datchuk for the San Antonio Report
People who’ve had to move many times know how hard it is to call a place home. For so long, I didn’t have an answer. But now, every time someone asks me where home is, I smile. Because I’m lucky enough to finally feel at home, and for me, part of that will always be on the East Side.