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An Inspired Chat with Jessica Molina of South Dallas

Jessica Molina shared their story and experiences with us recently and you can find our conversation below.

Hi Jessica, thank you for taking the time to reflect back on your journey with us. I think our readers are in for a real treat. There is so much we can all learn from each other and so thank you again for opening up with us. Let’s get into it: Have you ever been glad you didn’t act fast?
I definitely have a problem with impulsivity at times, especially when it comes to decision-making, so I’m actively working on slowing down! I have a tendency to make a decision and then go all-in, sometimes leading to doing a lot of work with not a lot of reward in the end. Just having a few of these experiences with my business has taught me the value of pausing, considering different perspectives, and evaluating potential outcomes before taking action. I’m now making a conscious effort to implement strategies like brainstorming, seeking feedback, and allowing a “cooling-off” period before committing to decisions.

Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
My name is Jessica Molina, and I’m a Nicaraguan-American lettering artist and illustrator based in Dallas, Texas. I’ve created work for national and global clients like Garnier, Sol de Janeiro, Snapchat, Toyota, and more. My artwork weaves together bold lettering with lush, feminine visuals and often explores deep themes of identity, empowerment, and personal growth. My mission as an artist is to empower others to embrace their uniqueness, fully and unapologetically.

Amazing, so let’s take a moment to go back in time. What breaks the bonds between people—and what restores them?
I firmly believe that what we all seek in life is to be understood and to be seen as our most authentic selves. Bonds between even the closest people can break the moment we feel misunderstood or unseen. That disconnect can happen so easily in a world where everyone is moving fast and holding tight to their own perspective.

For me, creativity and art have always been ways to bridge that gap. Art gives us a language to express the things we can’t always say out loud: our stories, our struggles, our humanity. When someone connects with my work, it’s often because they see a piece of themselves in it. That, to me, is what restores the bond between people: those small moments of recognition that remind us we’re not so different after all.

Empathy and openness are at the heart of both art and connection. When we take the time to understand another person, or to experience their story through their art in my case, we create space for healing, compassion, and community.

What fear has held you back the most in your life?
The fear of failure has been one of the most defining forces in my life. Even as a kid, I remember dreading the idea of coming home with a report card that didn’t have all A’s on it. That kind of perfectionism trained me early on to equate success with being safe—to play within the lines, to only take chances on things I knew I could do well.

For a long time, I lived in that bubble. I avoided risks, I avoided discomfort, and in doing so, I avoided the very experiences that could’ve helped me grow. But when I rediscovered art as an adult, just drawing for fun, with no rules or expectations, and something shifted. That spark reminded me what it felt like to be free, to explore without a grade attached to it.

Over time, my values started to change. Comfort used to be my top priority, but eventually, freedom became the thing I wanted most: creative freedom, time freedom, lifestyle freedom. That desire for freedom grew stronger than my fear of failure.

Ironically, art, which is all about experimentation and imperfection, taught me that failure isn’t the opposite of success; it’s part of the creative process. Every risk I’ve taken since has brought me closer to who I really am, both as an artist and as a person.

Alright, so if you are open to it, let’s explore some philosophical questions that touch on your values and worldview. What’s a cultural value you protect at all costs?
One important cultural value I protect at all costs is resilience—the kind that runs deep in the DNA of so many immigrant families. As the daughter of Nicaraguan immigrants, I grew up watching my parents navigate their life with courage and an unwavering work ethic. They built a life from the ground up, often without a safety net, and that quiet strength became the blueprint for how I approach everything: my art, my business, and my life.

Resilience, to me, isn’t just about pushing through challenges. It’s about doing so with grace, creativity, and purpose. It’s knowing that even when things feel uncertain, I can trust myself to figure it out, because that’s what generations before me did…and it runs in my blood, too.

In my creative work, that value shows up as courage: the courage to keep showing up as myself, to take risks, to tell stories that reflect where I come from, and to believe that my perspective is worth sharing. My art is colorful and bold for a reason; it’s a reflection of that inner strength, that refusal to shrink. I protect that energy fiercely because it’s not just mine—it’s part of the legacy my ancestors gave me.

Okay, we’ve made it essentially to the end. One last question before you go. What is the story you hope people tell about you when you’re gone?
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about legacy; what I’ll leave behind and how I’ll be remembered. I don’t plan on having children, but I still feel a deep responsibility to carry forward the lessons and stories passed down to me from the generations before. My parents built a life here through courage, sacrifice, and hard work, and I firmly believe those stories deserve to live on beyond me.

I hope people say that I used my art and my voice to open doors for others, especially for Latina artists who didn’t always see themselves represented in creative spaces. I want to be remembered not just for what I made, but for what I made possible for others.

Part of me dreams of turning my family’s story into a nonfiction book or even a film one day as a way to preserve and honor where I come from. And down the line, I’d love to create a foundation that supports emerging Latina artists, so that when I’m gone, there’s still a spark of opportunity and encouragement being passed forward.

More than anything, I hope the story people tell about me is that I lived fully, created fearlessly, and stayed rooted in where I came from—that I turned what my parents built into something beautiful that kept on giving.

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Image Credits
Amber Shumake

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