An insightful novel in verse about the joys and struggles of a girl who’s a warrior for her name, her history, and her right to choose what she celebrates in life Celina and her family follow both Mexican and United States traditions, and she revels in her Mexican American heritage. But at school it feels like the world wants to erase that part of her identity, as her name is repeatedly mispronounced, her people’s stories are left out of textbooks and lessons, and some classmates choose to treat her as a second-class citizen. Fortunately, she makes three wonderful friends who help her fight the ignorance. And her gramma, Celina’s biggest inspiration, shows her how to build a shield of joy around herself that can’t be pierced by defeat. Some days, though, it’s hard to find the joy—like when her dad’s deported or when a pandemic hits. Then Celina turns to her writing, which turns out to give a lot of people joy. And she determines that no matter what, she’ll always live up to her last name: Guerrera—woman warrior; and use her talents and courage to make the world a more beautiful place where all cultures are celebrated. * “Using rhythmic first-person verse, Tafolla presents messages about the importance of family and friends, social justice, and using one’s voice to incite change. . . . Via the protagonist’s journey to articulate her complex feelings through succinct and polished phrases, Tafolla crafts an astute and evolving heroine. The lyrical verse—structured as Celi’s own poetry, which teachers and Gramma embolden her to pursue—eventually culminates in powerful vocalizations of Celi’s values.” — Publishers Weekly , starred review “Tafolla skillfully weaves . . . significant recent historic moments and the hopeful stories of leaders like Emma Tenayuca and César Chávez together with the more specific experiences of the four friends. . . . Protagonist Celi, an emerging poet, is consistently and vividly rendered . . . and her righteous, powerful, and joyful voice carries the day. An exuberant, rousing celebration of youth activism.” — Kirkus Reviews “On top of her worries about her father who has been deported, Celina must face a challenging pandemic, fear of her grandmother catching the virus, and finding joy despite it all. But she is a Guerrera, a woman warrior; she has a voice and writing talent, and she can still use that to show the world the beauty of all cultures. Written in verse, this is a timely novel that tackles various struggles teens face, including desire to belong, family conflict, and fighting for what you believe in. Tafolla skillfully writes Celina’s voice as a young girl, and allows it to mature as she does. . . . An insightful, timely, and discussion-worthy read. This beautifully written contemporary novel is a highly recommended purchase.”— School Library Journal “With the help of her friends, Celina gains the courage to be the warrior she was meant to be by making a difference with her writing. Readers who enjoy novels in verse will be moved by Tafolla’s touching story. This is an emotional novel about the journey of finding where you belong, making your voice heard, and the friendships you can forge along the way.” — Booklist Dr. Carmen Tafolla (CarmenTafolla.net) received a Tomás Rivera Book Award for Warrior Girl . She is the 2015 State Poet Laureate of Texas and the former president of the Texas Institute of Letters. An award-winning poet and children’s author, storyteller, performance artist, motivational speaker, scholar, and university professor, she is the author of more than forty books and a professor emeritus of Transformative Children’s Literature at UT San Antonio. Her numerous awards and distinctions include the prestigious Américas Award, the designation of first city Poet Laureate of San Antonio, six International Latino Book Awards, three Tomás Rivera Book Awards, two ALA Notable Books, the Art of Peace Award, the Charlotte Zolotow Award, and the Texas Institute of Letters Lifetime Achievement Award. She lives in San Antonio, Texas. Life Slapped Her Hard Hand Felt like Life had slapped her hard hand over my mouth and tried to shut me up, tried to keep me from being me, keep me from even my song,  even my name. Yes, she tried to shut me up, and for a little while, she did. How I Got My Name So when I was born, my mom said , Ay, qué preciosa. I want to name her Celina. But my dad said, I want to name her after your mom, Teresa. And Mom nodded (kind of) and said, We’ll name her Celina Teresa, and we can call her Tere around the house so Gramma can know how much we love her. And they did. And everything was good with my name except for one thing: My dad’s last name is Guerrero and my mom’s is Amaya, and the nurse got confused when she saw “all those names” (Celina Teresa Guerrero Amaya. I don’t think four is too many names, but I guess the nurse did), so she wrote down Guerrera with an A at the end of the name