Meet Jeanine Fuentes

We were lucky to catch up with Jeanine Fuentes recently and have shared our conversation below.

Jeanine, thanks so much for taking the time to share your insights and lessons with us today. We’re particularly interested in hearing about how you became such a resilient person. Where do you get your resilience from?

In 1992, my 16-year-old Puerto Rican mother gave birth to me in the city of Buffalo, NY. My father, 25 at the time, was a very successful smooth-criminal delinquent—and a victim of opioid addiction. (He’s now fully recovered, retired, and delivered.) I was the firstborn, the oldest of what would eventually become eight siblings.

Growing up, I witnessed an array of events that could easily traumatize, paralyze, or emotionally immobilize most people. The kind of experiences that could make someone accept the limiting labels of “statistic” or “product of their environment.”

At just four years old, I watched the spirit of addiction nearly kill my mother—and she wasn’t even the one using substances. I experienced the slow burn of generational trauma: how it snowballs into resentful fear, then hardens into isolating bitterness, and eventually suffocates you in hopelessness.

I observed, supported, and consoled my brave-hearted, deeply wounded mother as she desperately searched for love, stability, protection, and identity—never having seen a real example of any of it. There were many detours. Many more encounters, stepfathers, and waves of abuse across every category. Each experience, though painful, gave me wisdom beyond my years.

I’ve seen firsthand the devastating effects of emotional neglect and unaddressed wounds—how they morph into PTSD and other mental health disorders that slowly consume a person from the inside out.

I learned early how to care for adults, how to tend to young children, and how to keep the peace in a chaotic home. I became fluent in the language of survival—attuned to the fragile, desperate needs of others. The abilities I developed in that environment helped me navigate the emotional minefield of my childhood. And in my early adulthood, those same instincts revealed themselves as gifts—ones I would slowly learn to wield, not just to survive, but to build and to heal.

From women’s and children’s shelters, to school after school, home to home, and stepfather to stepfather—life was constantly shifting. There was never any real sense of stability. We existed in survival mode. But because of that, I became a master of adaptation.

I watched my mother battle severe PTSD and crippling depression. And yet, miraculously, she still managed to devote her life to serving others—especially those struggling with addiction and substance abuse. She became a beacon of hope to many in the city of Buffalo. Her strength, her fight, her relentless love—having her as a mother is one of the greatest sources of my own resilience.

My father’s absence also shaped me in powerful ways. As I grew older, an emotional depth and grace began to develop in me—qualities that might never have emerged had he been present. My mom taught us to love him unconditionally, despite his absence. But her quiet episodes of sadness often spoke louder than her words, reminding us of the ache she carried.

During his incarceration, we exchanged handwritten letters. On each one, he would trace the outline of his large hand—it was so big it barely fit on the page. And when I placed my small hand inside his, resting on that lined paper, I felt his love. I knew, without a doubt, that I was loved.

Through his surprise visits over the years—always unannounced—I learned the art of patience and the beauty of expectancy. He taught us courage and “street smarts,” tools that helped us stay aware and grounded in a city overwhelmed with criminal activity. I learned to treasure the fleeting moments with the people I love. However little time we had together, it was pure gold to me.

Through every wave of despair, every season of lack, I witnessed and experienced the power of faith, of prayer, of unity. Even in the face of loss and hopelessness, I watched my mother rise again and again.

And this—this is where I gained my resilience.

Thanks for sharing that. So, before we get any further into our conversation, can you tell our readers a bit about yourself and what you’re working on?

As a fresh cosmetology graduate, full of hope and eager to create a life of opportunity for my son and family, I moved to Los Angeles the day before my 21st birthday—with my 2-year-old son by my side. I had no solid plan, no big dream of moving to Hollywood. Honestly, I was just thrilled to be leaving Buffalo. California wasn’t the destination I’d imagined for myself; it was simply the first opportunity that came—and I took it.

I sold my sneaker collection, worked at a local grocery store, and ran a small at-home salon with about a dozen regular clients. I had about a thousand dollars to my name. Before moving, I had begun exploring the world of tech, marketing, and creative innovation, brainstorming taboo app ideas at the dawn of the mobile app era.

Once I landed in LA, I got a job at a local salon on Santa Monica and Wilton called *Alondra’s Beauty Salon*. I loved working there, but it didn’t pay enough to cover my $700 rent for a tiny studio on Gramercy Place—just off the iconic Melrose Ave. (That price for a studio is *unheard of* in 2025—ha!)

Still, I embraced the change. I was excited about my humble little haven and the fresh start it represented. I had a blow-up mattress, a whiteboard, a laptop, a couch we found on the street—and a dream.

From there, I dove headfirst into the hustle. I worked in hospitality, bounced around restaurants, did audience work, and signed up for every casting platform I could—LA Casting, Central Casting, StandingRoomOnly, and more. I continued to do hair on the side—for neighbors, friends, and occasionally on film and creative projects. I hustled hard. The real question is: what *didn’t* I do?

Over the years, while exploring and absorbing the ever-evolving melting pot of Los Angeles, I followed my curiosity across disciplines. I taught myself HTML and front-end development. I took up boxing and Muay Thai, which I fell in love with. I immersed myself in wellness and movement arts, particularly somatic healing—which reconnected me to my body and helped unlock the trauma trapped inside of it.

On that journey, I rediscovered two long-lost loves: dance and music.

Everything shifted in 2017 when I walked into a little supper club on Vine called *El Floridita*. That night changed my life. A live salsa band lit up the room—the musicians were fully alive. The small stage, framed by thick red velvet curtains, had once hosted legends like Tito Puente, Celia Cruz, Oscar D’León, and Eddie Palmieri. Time felt suspended in that intimate, magical setting.

As dancers weaved around each other on a 150-square-foot floor without colliding, while people dined and watched, I was mesmerized. I had always loved dance growing up, but this atmosphere set my spirit ablaze. I dove headfirst into the Latin dance scene in LA.

The stories from that time? They’ll have to be told another day—wildly fun, dramatically scandalous, and sometimes spontaneously dangerous.

After a couple of years of social dancing, I began assisting professional instructors, joined a team, performed, and competed in local amateur competitions. I even started teaching private lessons, getting booked for productions and music videos. Eventually, I choreographed my first music video.

Just like dance, music had always held my heart. After years of moving through LA’s creative world, my passion for singing reawakened. I had always been a writer—journaling, crafting poetry, making up little melodies and heart-songs alone in my room when emotions were high.

I started experimenting with songwriting. The response was always a resounding:
*“Jeanine, what are you doing? You’ve got ‘it.’”*
If I had a dollar for every time someone told me I had potential, I’d be a millionaire.

In 2021, I wrote and recorded my first song. Since then, I’ve released three singles. My fourth, titled *“Bloomindaze,”* is set to release on my birthday—April 13th.

Around 2022, I finally began to fully identify as a self-proclaimed artist. I did a deep 3–6 month dive into music business education, prepping myself for the industry. That same year, an idea was planted in my spirit:

**NoLabl.**

For the past four years, I’ve been developing a vision for a lifestyle and media brand I plan to launch very soon.

The mission of *NoLabl* is to challenge false narratives, redefine identity, and spark a movement of faith-driven freedom and purpose. NoLabl is more than a brand—it’s a movement. One designed to inspire, equip, and activate people into their fullest potential.

Through message-driven music, ethically sourced apparel with meaning, and immersive community experiences, NoLabl challenges societal and spiritual constraints—encouraging people to embrace their true, God-given identity. Whether it’s music that heals, clothing that speaks, gatherings that empower, or content that stirs the soul, NoLabl will create atmospheres for deep transformation, storytelling, and self-expression. It’s a culture of resilience, faith, and purpose.

The name *NoLabl* was born out of my personal struggle with trying to adhere to a specific title, label, career path, or identity. The most daunting question for me became:
“So… what do you do?”
(Cue internal gag reflex.)

Living in LA, it often felt like everyone needed a perfectly packaged elevator pitch. No matter your answer, there was always some subtle, subconscious evaluation of your utility—your human value—and an invisible box you were placed into, tied up with a suffocating bow.

That’s how I experienced it.

My relentless rebellion against being confined by labels has been an 11-year journey of self-discovery. I’ve always yearned to embody unbridled creativity and radical non-conformity. More than anything, I’ve just wanted to be chosen, seen, wanted, and loved—as me.

And so, NoLabl was born.

Currently, I’m working on officially launching NoLabl and producing my first EP, titled Metanoia, set to release by the end of the year. Metanoia is an ancient Greek word with several meanings:
– In psychology, it refers to a breakdown followed by a positive rebuilding.
– In rhetoric, it’s a correction or revision.
– In theology, it represents conversion, reformation, and repentance.

I’m also co-producer and board member for Heaven’s Tribe, a faith-based creative collective based in New York. I’ll be debuting my first interactive music experiences in my hometown of Buffalo, and then bringing them back to California.

You can visit [NoLabl.com](http://nolabl.com) to sign up for launch notifications and project updates. Follow my artist page for music releases—I go by 9FM.

Though my name is spelled JeaNINE, the “9” represents the nine fruits of the spirit in my faith: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. I also happen to be the oldest of nine siblings. FM stands for frequency modulation, and also happens to be my middle and last initials.

You can also follow Heaven’s Tribe on Instagram for media production and podcast updates.

And finally—more recently—I’ve begun authoring the first of many books, titled:
PRESCRIPTURE.

Looking back, what do you think were the three qualities, skills, or areas of knowledge that were most impactful in your journey? What advice do you have for folks who are early in their journey in terms of how they can best develop or improve on these?

Over the last 11 years of my life, I’ve encountered thousands of people—personalities, archetypes, wounded souls. I’ve met the lonely, the hurt, the ones desperately seeking connection while hiding behind facades and job titles. And I’ve also encountered many who radiated joy and peace—not just financial success, but true inner harmony.

Through these encounters, I’ve built meaningful relationships—some long-term, others seasonal, all substantial. And through them, I’ve learned so much about the human condition and our innate, universal need: to love and to be loved.

If I had to name the skills or qualities that impacted my journey the most, without question they would be: compassion, listening, curiosity, and adaptability.

To anyone early in their own journey, I encourage you—be honest about where you are. Be gentle with yourself. Every grown-up you see was once a vulnerable, dependent, imaginative child. And every person you meet has suffered through life in their own incomparable way. Try not to prejudge. Just see people as they are, where they are. Sometimes, a simple smile, a small gesture of kindness, or a curious question can go further than you think. Let yourself have that moment of shared humanity with someone.

One skill that has helped me across all the environments, ecosystems, and industries I’ve stepped into is adaptability. We all crave knowing what’s next. We love structure, systems—they make us feel safe. Predictability gives us a sense of control. And we love to categorize so we can make “educated” guesses and protect ourselves from rejection, failure, embarrassment. In truth, we’re terrified of judgment. So we subconsciously build emotional safety nets that often do more harm than good, even though we think we’re being clever.

But my willingness to lean into change—and my curiosity to learn new ways of seeing, doing, and being—has opened so many doors. I began to view every person as a walking library of wisdom, perspective, and lived experience. And that mindset helped me connect on deeper levels and support others in ways I couldn’t have if I had approached them with assumptions or limitations.

That adaptability led me to meaningful friendships and professional opportunities I never could’ve planned. I asked a lot of questions. I wasn’t afraid to admit when I didn’t know something. I stayed curious, absorbing knowledge from others instead of trying to prove my own. Just shutting my mouth, listening, and resisting the urge to compete or correct created space for rich, unexpected opportunities.

So stay a student. Ask questions. Listen more than you speak. And don’t rush to judge. Society conditions us to lead with what separates us—what makes us different. But what if you started with what connects you to someone else? That one shift could change your entire experience.

What has been your biggest area of growth or improvement in the past 12 months?

My biggest area of growth has been my internal understanding of my worth and value.
For years, my self-esteem and confidence lived under a ceiling—a limitation constructed by the expectations of society, family, and the world’s systems. But something finally cracked. I no longer measure myself by those standards. I’ve come to the beginning of peace, anchored in the truth of who *God* says I am.

What I call the “wide end” of my existential spiral began after the COVID quarantine ended. I know I wasn’t alone in that. But by the spring of 2024, that spiral narrowed sharply—and I spun violently toward the bottom. I hit what many would call rock bottom. For me, it was where I broke.

I searched for answers—furiously researching, scrolling, and scanning every corner of the internet—desperate for a name to give my pain. But nothing I found brought solace. The world’s diagnosis of my suffering didn’t offer hope. It only made me feel more alone.

Instead, my healing came through surrender. Through expression. Through pain transmuted into prayer and poetry. I’ll share two poems that capture this transformation.

The first is called “REAL”—written while I was mid-spiral, still bleeding, still wrestling.
The second, “Aliyah”—was written after the storm discarded me, and I found myself crawling out, finally crowned in victory.

REAL
By Jeanine Fuentes (9FM)

It’s unreal
It’s real
Where’s the virtue
go
Dirty rain gray skies
What seeds did I sow…
I thought all this time
I was doing something
Worthwhile
Change the direction
Of the lineage
Break the bondages
Meanwhile
It all is the same
And this rain
Just keeps pouring down
It’s all the same
My mind feels upside down
It’s all the same forcing smiles
From permanent frown
I want to believe
But with cluttered corners and messy rooms
Reflecting the space in our hearts and minds
I can’t ignore that it’s all the same
And when I left all I did was blame
Tried to be better learn new ways
Rewrite new narratives to make me sane
And be okay
For my sons sake
But I feel now , it was all in vain
All selfishly led by my own pain
And I’m not alone
It boggles my mind
Innumerable souls
Suffer as I
But Hope lives inside right ?
So dim is the light
That all once said shone so bright
Unload this shame
God said it’s not mine
Release from flames
Free my mind
That girl she’s so brave
The oldest the smart one
The first to bear witness
To what can’t be undone

And it all lives inside
So I ran and tried to hide
Got lost in the talents
And possibility
I thought they defined
I thought a lot of things
Now I don’t know what
I don’t know how
I don’t know where
I belong
But I need to hold on
I can’t make it worse
But it’s All same
God said I’m his child
He said I am
Free
Loved.
Discipline she needs
I want to fight
Till my blood drips and empties this pain
Like this I can’t imagine
Bringing new life to this world again
My son is the best part of me
I can’t shake the thought I might be
A broken glass of mom and dad
Passed down to his innocent being
Wanted to be all that he needs
Now I’m back home on my knees

All that I’ve learned
about will and desire
Has withered and washed
in this dirty rain
All these drops of tears I never let fall.
What’s to be said of a coward like me
Life goes on and on and on
They say it’s so short
but these days are long
Get to work get to work make yourself of service.

Aliyah
By Jeanine Fuentes (9FM)

I recall long nights
I was planning my own funeral
No future in sight
No faith to get me through at all

Suffocatin shame on my neck
Like a rusty bar on a bench
Can’t push up,
Where’s my strength
Depression weighted 🕰️
no defense (tick)
The pressure made
to know relent less ( boom )

precious gem you’re Tumblin’ Tumblin Tumblin’
These gritty trenches Rumblin’ stumblin’ stumblin’

Rough around the edges
With No love to rub against
Erode all the offense
I’m on the course to brilliance

I Had to die to truly shine
I finally grew a glistening
A sparkling authenticity
Polished by true humility

A Painfully rough Buff
Some Painfully tough stuff
Just when I Think I’ve had enough
Life is calling my bluff , calling me out
Like are you Diamond ?
or cubic Zirconia?

De void of grace , inside me felt hollow
Just dark empty space
A hard pill to swallow
My cup was dried up
So I choked on reality
And hope became a fantasy
And I was always Mad at me

Looking around me
all I saw was ruins
the hopes & dreams of families
I couldn’t super glue it

My Mind became a Time Machine
to all the boats that I let sink
So naive of me to think
that this was all of my doing

Paralyzed in imagery
I couldn’t move , I couldn’t breathe
I had no fight left in me
the devil clipped my eagle wings
I couldn’t flee this storm in me
tricked to believe that I would freeze

Til I surrendered finally ,
felt your spirit speak to me:
This fight must take place on my knees
I cried out, * Father hear my pleas ( actually cry out sing )

can’t save myself , or family
under heavy sedation
my spirits slowly flatlining
I need resuscitation
My souls a dry spell suffering
40 day dehydration
I drank from fountain 41
Just Out of desperation

Restore my mind to sanity
In your loving asylum
Define the true sanctuary
Where to myself I die some

And even in my unbelief
You whispered Aliyah
Come home to me , I’ve been waiting
Be free – hallelujah
——————-
To conclude, my growth hasn’t just been upward—it’s been inward.

I’ve grown in my understanding of purpose, in the nurturing of my spiritual and mental health, and in boldly stepping into my calling. I’ve discovered that real healing comes not from answers, but from truth. Not from performance, but from surrender.

And in that surrender, I finally heard the voice I had been aching to hear my whole life:

“Come home to Me. I’ve been waiting. Be free—hallelujah.”

Contact Info:

Image Credits

Nishelle Walker
Jaime Garcia
BoxerBands
Jeremiah Cuascut

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