We have no control over how we enter the world. We cannot choose where we are born, nor can we choose who gives birth to us.

Yet many of us are very proud of where we come from – maybe that means where we were born, or where we grew up. I’m grateful for both places. I was born in Lima, Peru, adopted as an infant, and raised in St. Paul, Minnesota. From the beginning, I had a broad view of the world because I grew up knowing that I came from two completely different places and that was something to celebrate.

I spent my childhood in São Paulo and came back as an adult. When I think of St. Paul, I think of going to school with my sisters, crisp fall leaves and cold Halloween nights, snow days and tornado drills, and endless summers swimming in Minnesota lakes.

I’m excited to spend some time in the country of my birth. Studying, traveling and working in Peru is a gift. When I think of Lima, I think of cloudy winters and turquoise oceans. I thought about chicha morada (warm purple corn drink) and buying snacks on the subway line. I thought about running on the coast in the summer sun, watching people surfing and vendors selling fruit.

When I think of my hometown, São Paulo, I can’t help but think of highways. Interstate 94 cuts through the community of Rondo, less than a mile from where I grew up. In the 1950s and 1960s, the construction of Interstate 94 bisected the vibrant community of Rondo. According to the Minnesota Historical Society, one in eight African Americans in St. Paul lost their homes to the new Interstate 94. It’s an age-old story that’s repeated across America—where governments use modern infrastructure to divide disparate communities.

Thirty years later, my parents and community members preserve the memory of this community through stories. They help us understand that we live alongside a community that has experienced tremendous challenges and changes.

When I think of my birth city, Lima, I can’t help but think of that wall.

In the Peruvian capital, the Wall of Shame, or wall of shame, a physical barrier between the districts of La Molina and Villa Maria del Triunfo. The two districts share a hill on the east side of the city. The wall contrasts the higher socioeconomic districts of La Molina and Surco with the lower socioeconomic districts of San Juan de Miraflores and Villa María del Triunfo. Homes with sprawling lawns, swimming pools and paved streets were separated from homes built of sheet metal and wood, dirt roads and homes without running water. The wall has been the subject of books, movies and community conversations.

While some see the wall as a right of private property owners, many see the wall as a manifestation of class divisions.

To add another layer to the story, House on the Hill intercepted Lomas, or fog oasis. This beautiful and rare plant structure can be found in Peru and northern Chile. During the foggy winter months, the coastal desert is covered with rich vegetation, including many endemic species. Natural landscapes and communities are affected as invasions and land trafficking occur in the region, urbanization continues to swell the population, and climate change damages fragile ecosystems.

We have no control over how we enter the world. We cannot choose where we are born, nor can we choose who gives birth to us. Yet many of us are very proud of our origins.

In recent years, I’ve been pleased to see the efforts being made to improve the infrastructure that separates the communities I love. The bridge across Interstate 94 near my home is under construction and is now back in service with larger sidewalks to accommodate more pedestrians on both sides of the highway.This year, part wall of shame Destroyed in Lima by order of the Constitutional Court.

Local efforts to protect lomas are underway in Peru, including community groups educating the public about the importance of plant forms and advocating for local governments to protect the land. In addition, protective channels and mist catchers were built to provide the plants with as much water as possible. Despite these changes, division and damage remain.

We have no control over how we enter the world; which side of the highway or wall we are on. I was taught from an early age that I was connected to these different places and that I should be proud. I care about climate change because I care about myself and I care about you. This is my climate story. We are all connected. correct?

So I’m confused about understanding and understanding how modern infrastructure divides people instead of connecting us. Both historically and contemporary times, we as people have access to so much knowledge and so many tools that should help us collaborate and create a healthy world.

But I’ve learned that there are so many examples of self-betrayal—behaviors that end up harming others and ourselves. What if we used modern technology and prior knowledge to protect our planet, rather than divide us? I’m excited to learn, grow, and take action in order to best care for our planet. I enjoy being able to work with my students to promote learning, growth, and action. Why don’t we do it together?

Sofía Cerkvenik is a social studies educator and sports equity activist in São Paulo. Sofia was adopted from Lima, Peru and grew up in St. Paul, Minnesota. She earned a bachelor’s degree in history with a minor in Asian languages ​​and literatures and a master’s degree in social studies with a concentration in social justice from the University of Minnesota. Sofia believes that exploring the various windows and mirrors in the classroom is crucial to building better understanding, empathy and action among students. Sophia has had the opportunity to do this through various study abroad experiences, including the U.S. Department of State’s Critical Language Fellowship Program, as a 2022 Fulbright Research Scholar in Dalian, China and Changchun, China, and as a COP28 delegate this winter.

Sofía is the climate-generating window representative of COP28. To learn more, we encourage you to meet the entire delegation and subscribe to the Window Into COP summary.