For Marisela Gonzáles Ginestra, hearing stories that reflect her community and background makes all the difference.
I was born listening to the radio. My parents are Mexican American and always had KQED playing in the car, at home and everywhere else. In the 90s and early 2000s, my dad would always remark how he was never satisfied with the number of Spanish names he heard reporting. “We live in California, there should be more,” he’d say.
Over the next two decades, more names like ours began covering stories here in the Bay Area and beyond. Now, in 2025, I hear several voices reporting on a vast array of topics and expertise. I mentally applaud them every time they end their segment proudly saying their names. But there was a moment this past year that signaled to my younger self that we had made it.
My name is Marisela, but most people call me Mari. The phonetics aren’t easy for English speakers, as “Rs” in Spanish are softer and rolled. I’ve spent a lot of my time correcting people, and after instruction it still usually turns into some form of Madi.
Last year, I heard a KQED conversation between Marisa Lagos and Madi Bolaños. They greeted each other with the correct pronunciation of each other’s names. Names that are similar to mine. It was such a fleeting moment, but for a split second, it felt like they were saying hi to me.