She uses art to disrupt and disarm, to change our thinking, and to advance movements for immigrants, reproductive justice and the LGBTQ community. Her work has been supported byThe Ford Foundation, Just Films, Pop Culture Collaborative, Opportunity Agenda, and Race Forward, among many others. She co-authored the New York Times bestseller Together We Rise: Behind the Scenes at the Protest Heard Around the World. Her YA novel, Sanctuary, was a critical darling and is currently being adapted into a motion picture. Her most recent YA title, SOLIS (the sequel to Sanctuary), has just been released. Paola's work has been published in The New York Times, USA Today, Huffington Post, Glamour, InStyle, Elle and Teen Vogue. Her films Igualada, Entre Nos, On the Outs & Free Like the Birds have garnered international and critical acclaim at the Sundance Film Festival, Berlin Film Festival and Toronto International Film Festival just to name a few. Paola is a founder of The Resistance Revival Chorus, The Meteor and The Soze Agency.
Through my work, I strive to open people’s hearts to communities that may seem distant or unfamiliar. I want to build bridges of understanding and empathy between different groups, allowing people to see beyond their immediate experiences and feel a deeper connection to others. My goal is for the stories I tell not just to reflect the world as it is, but to ignite a sense of urgency and possibility—to stir the soul. I want my art, my stories, to act as a hammer with which to actively shape and reshape the world around us, breaking down barriers, challenging the status quo, and building something more just and compassionate.The work I create is a manifestation of the world I envision, one rooted in empathy, equity, and shared humanity. It’s not simply a passive reflection but a bold statement of what could be. Through storytelling, I hope to illuminate the pathways toward a future where we are more connected, more aware of each other’s struggles and triumphs, and more willing to fight for a world where everyone can thrive. My art is a vision of the world I want, and it serves as both a call to action and a roadmap for how we can collectively reach that destination.
The characters and the story of Solis come from the thousands of people I have spoken to over my 15 years documenting the stories of immigrants. I have heard both inspiring and heartbreaking stories about people’s journeys to the United states. They have shared their dreams with me, and their heartbreak. My job as a storyteller is to listen to people. It’s from this place of listening that I write from. SOLIS comes from my imagination, but it is inspired by real people, who have experienced real pain.
At its core, SOLIS is about not accepting the world as it is. It is about young people refusing to live in an unjust world. It is about finding new pathways to freedom. SOLIS is asking its readers to be brave. It’s asking them to find the courage within themselves to risk their comfort, their privilege and even the safety of their silence to help those in need. It is asking us all to find the courage to save our country, our home and our planet.I know this is a lot to ask of my readers, especially of young people. I don’t think it’s fair. I don’t think it’s right, but it is where we find ourselves and I believe it is what we must do.
From the authors of Sanctuary comes SOLIS, a haunting near-future companion tale about undocumented immigrants subjected to deadly experiments in a government labor camp and the four courageous rebels who set into place a daring plan to liberate them.
The year is 2033, and in this near-future America where undocumented people are forced into labor camps, life is bleak. Especially so for seventeen-year-old Rania, a Lebanese teenager from Chicago. When she and her mother were rounded up by the Deportation Force, they were given the brutal job of digging in the labor camp's mine in search of the destructive and toxic--but potentially world-changing--mineral aqualinium. With this mineral, the corrupt and xenophobic government of the New American Republic could actually control the weather--ending devastating droughts sweeping the planet due to climate change. If the government succeeds, other countries would be at their mercy. Solidifying this power comes at the expense of the undocumented immigrants forced to endure horrendous conditions to mine the mineral or used in cruel experiments to test it, leaving their bodies wracked in extreme pain to the point of death. As the experiments ramp up, things only get worse. Rania and her fellow prisoners decide to start a revolution; if they don't, they know they will die.
Told by four narrators--Rania, Jess (a former teenage Deportation Force officer), Vali, and Vali's mother, Liliana--Solis is about the courage and sacrifice it takes to stand and fight for freedom.
I am filled with anger. Sometimes I feel like I am going to choke on it. My lungs are swimming in it. The only thing that calms me is my prayer . . .
Mami, Kenna, Rosa, Tomás, Volcanoman, Kenna’s parents, Uncle Jimi, Ms. Kochiyama, Mr. Rashid, Mal’s abuela, the women . . .
“I’m gonna bring Mami back. I swear,” I told Ernie.
But he just scowled at me. “Stop,” he said. “You can’t promise stuff like that.”
Ernie is so much older than his nine and a half years on Earth. This world has aged him too much, too fast. His chubby cheeks are gone, and his eyes dart around a lot, like he’s always on the lookout, always being hunted. Was there ever really a world where we played in a schoolyard and blew on dandelion fuzz?
About a week into our time at Tía’s, I realized that Ernie had these gaps in his mouth where he’d lost his baby teeth. He must’ve lost them while we were on the run, but he never told me because we were focused on trying to escape the DF.
Ernie and I have been through so much together. The meat truck filled with swinging carcasses where we saw a man get killed; the DF drone taking away a broken Rosa and a lifeless Tomás as we cowered in the trees. We jumped onto a moving train as it hurled toward California. We tied ourselves to the top of that train. It was the only way to not fall off. To not die. And yet I think it was my biggest mistake because it kept me from Mami.
The rope did its job too well. Holding us down when I wanted so badly to run. In the distance I saw the glints of cages, the icy-blue lights in the wrists of people who had been captured and taken by the DF. They were the disappeared, but by the miracle of luck, we found them in the desert.
The train brought us the unexpected gift of possibility. The gift of Mami. Through my binoculars, I saw her in the distance. I’m almost positive it was her. The blue light glowed in her wrist. She was chained to people in front of her and behind her. She was struggling to walk. But it was her walk. Her head tilted slightly to the right as if constantly questioning the world around her. Her hips swaying side to side, always in rhythm to a vallenato, a salsa, or a cumbia. It was how she walked in our apartment before the DF came, the way she moved in the kitchen as she made ajiaco, the way she paced around the barn when calves were about to be born.
There she was, alive. She was a couple of miles away, and an unfinished wall surrounded her, but I was sure it was her! And I needed to get to her.
I tried to untie the rope. But I couldn’t. The train kept moving away from Mami as I picked and pulled at the knots binding us. I almost had it! I was so focused on the rope, I didn’t notice the DF as they approached our train, but Ernie did. His screams crashed me back to reality. I could hear the buzzing drones flying toward us. The train slowed. The drones appeared, ready to swoop us into their claws. I stopped thinking about Mami and focused on the rope. I had to untie us.
Our freedom depended on it. My fingers worked miracles. We jumped off the train like birds taking flight for the first time. We smashed onto the ground, slid down a ravine, and ran away into the desert.
At that moment, I was forced to choose between Mami and Ernie. I had to decide between what was right in front of me and what might be in the distance.
I promised Mami I would get Ernie to California, and I did. I promised myself I would go back and get Mami. And I will.
