Finding Community in Motion: Carlos’ First Parade with PRPSN

Carlos Poses with the speaker box he carried in the parade.

Carlos started working as a Peer Supporter in November At El Centrito de Apoyo which is a Spanish-language peer-led programs under the umbrella of PRPSN designed to meet people where they are in Huntington Park and the surrounding areas. They offer peer support, resources, support groups, housing assistance, employment support, and other guidance at their storefront location and at locations throughout East LA through their outreach program Un Paso Mas. 

In December, the City of Huntington Park invited EC/UPM to join the annual Christmas parade, and it was determined that the Balet Folklorico group would perform. When Carlos arrived on the day of the parade, he didn’t quite know what to expect. What he quickly discovered was that this wasn’t just a work commitment—it was an opportunity to celebrate the community El Centrito de Apoyo and Un Paso Más (UPM) serve every single day. 

Groups lined the streets, energy buzzing from start to finish. He spotted familiar faces—the in his coworkers—and watched as the PRPSN folklórico dancers prepared. That’s when it hit him: this is the real deal. 

“I’m going to walk here and hold my head up high representing Project Return.” 

For Carlos, the parade became a living example of that mission. Being visible and proud alongside the community mattered just as much as the services offered inside the center’s walls. 

While others danced, Carlos had his own important role, pulling the large speaker that powered the dancers’ music. It may not have been center stage, but to him, it mattered. “Even though I wasn’t dancing, I knew my role was important. I had to be on cue. I had to make sure the music stayed with them.” 

The crowd was massive, thousands of people lining the streets, five rows deep in some places. The energy stretched from the very beginning of the route to the very end. Carlos knew this because the very next day, he participated in another parade in El Segundo with the roller hockey league he coaches for. The difference was undeniable. 

“That one didn’t compare,” he laughed. “I even sent a video to Manny and said, ‘This has nothing on Huntington Park.’ This parade was something else.” 

The folklórico dancers moved forward, dancing continuously, in heels, for what felt like miles, said Carlos. The crowd responded with pure joy. People stood, cheered, and yelled proudly, “¡Viva México!” The dancers’ stamina alone left Carlos in awe. Even when the team tried to offer water, the dancers waved it off, determined to keep moving. 

“They toughed it out,” he said. “I had nothing but respect for them.” 

But beyond the movement and music, what stayed with Carlos most was the meaning behind it all. Walking alongside the dancers, he felt the beauty of cultural representation. 

“In this moment, it was huge,” he reflected. “People were proud of their roots. Especially now, when so many are feeling targeted or afraid because of their accent, their name, their skin… seeing their people walk proudly down the street mattered.” 

“That’s peer support,” Carlos said. “That’s what people need to see—that they’re not alone.” 

That realization carried back with him into El Centrito de Apoyo and UPM. Every day, Carlos meets community members who walk in feeling stressed or unsure of where to turn. Some speak to him like he’s, their son. Others come overwhelmed by what might seem like small tasks, renewing a passport, filling out a form, finding resources but, feel huge when faced alone. 

One woman recently walked in unsure if anyone could help her. When Carlos told her they could and that it wouldn’t cost her anything her relief was immediate. 

“I couldn’t see her smile because she had a mask on,” he said, “but I could see it in her eyes.” 

Before leaving, she asked for flyers and calendars to share with her neighbors. She wanted others to know this place existed. As she walked out, she said, “May God bless you.” 

Moments like that are when everything clicks. 

“After the parade, it opened my eyes even more,” Carlos said. “This work is important. People need us. They need somewhere to turn.” 

Starting his job with experiences like the parade, the toy drive, and daily moments of connection has affirmed something deep for him. 

“It fills your heart,” Carlos said. “I wake up happy to come to work. I don’t feel like, ‘here goes another eight hours.’ I feel like, ‘let’s see what today brings.’” 

And along the way, he’s learning too about resources he can now share not only with the community, but with his own family. 

“This is where I’m supposed to be,” he said simply.