More Than a Book: Building a Movement Through Kindness and Emotional Literacy

By Mona Liza Santos

In 2020, I sat at my kitchen table writing rhymes for my son, Michael. Like a lot of parents that year, I didn’t always know what to tell my child about what was happening in the world. A rhyme was something small I could give him. We could sit together, read it out loud, and see where the words took us. One of those stories became Mama, I Love You, my first children’s book.

I’ve written 42 children’s books since I began, and I still think about that little boy when I write. Sometimes I want to make him laugh. Sometimes I’m looking for a way into a conversation that’s hard to start, even with someone you love. And sometimes I just want him to open a book and recognize something about his Filipino family without having to explain it to anybody.

When I founded World Love Press⁠, I started wondering what other people might do with these stories. Which page would a librarian linger on? What might a child notice that I’d missed? Of all the places I imagined finding out, a grocery store wasn’t high on my list.

Story time at Seafood City

On July 11, 2026, I helped launch Kwento at Kulay (Story and Color) at Seafood City in Chula Vista. I read The Filipino in Me with families, and afterward, the children colored and made their own bookmarks.

A Filipino grocery store turned out to be a lovely place to share that particular book. Food is one of the ways a family remembers. A child can know what a dish smells like, who makes it for birthdays, and which relative insists theirs is the best, long before they know the word heritage. I liked the idea that a family could come in to pick up something for dinner and find a story about that part of their life being read aloud.

One question I like to ask children about the book is, “What’s something your family does that you’d love to teach a friend?” My own answer might surprise anyone expecting a recipe. I’d tell them about my Lola, my Filipino grandmother, and her love of ghost stories. She’s part of the reason there are a few spooky books on my shelf today. That, too, is something I inherited.

What kindness sounds like when something feels unfair

I want Michael and other children growing up between cultures to feel proud of where they come from. I also want them to have words for the days when that feels harder. Maybe someone laughs at the food they bring for lunch. Maybe someone keeps getting their name wrong, and they’re tired of correcting it. “Be proud of who you are” is a lovely thing to hear from your mom. Sometimes what you need at school the next day is an actual sentence.

“That’s how my family says my name. Can I teach you?”

“I didn’t think that was funny.”

“Can you stay with me while I tell someone?”

That’s what emotional literacy means to me. A child can recognize, That embarrassed me, and begin to decide what they want to do next. They might speak up, ask for help, or take a little time before answering. And if they’re the child who laughed, they can learn to say, “I’m sorry,” and listen to what their friend has to say. Kindness should never mean staying quiet to keep everybody else comfortable.

Giving families a reason to come back to the conversation

I founded National Intentional Kindness Day⁠, observed on August 24, and Heritage and Heart Day⁠, observed on October 15. Both received proclamations from the City of National City, California. That recognition meant a great deal to me because it came from the community I call home. What I love about those dates is that anyone can circle one on a calendar and make it their own.

On August 24, a teacher might ask, “Who helped you this week in a way nobody else noticed?” On October 15, a family might call a grandparent and ask about a game they played growing up. I’d love for a child to come away from that call knowing the rules well enough to teach a friend. That’s one little piece of family history that gets to keep going.

I had teachers and librarians in mind when I made eight free read-aloud activity cards, too. Each one has a question to ask and something to try. My favorite activity for The Filipino in Me starts with a blank sheet of paper for every child. Each child draws a family tradition, and the group gathers the pages into a class book called In Our Families. I may have written the book that started story time, but the children get to write the one that comes next.

That’s what I mean by building a movement. I can write a story for my son and share it with families at a grocery store. A teacher can take that same book in a direction I never imagined. Then a child can go home with a question for their grandmother, and suddenly she’s the storyteller. The part I couldn’t have planned is the part I hope keeps going.

So the next time you finish a book with a child, leave it open for another minute. Ask, “Did anything in here remind you of us?” They might tell you about something you’d forgotten. They might have a question you can’t answer. Or, if they’re anything like my side of the family, they might lean a little closer and tell you a ghost story. I hope you have time to hear it.