CRISTINA HOLLINS Here to serve: Showing up where it matters most 

By Joycelyne Fadojutimi

Cristina Hollins’ life has always been shaped by love, sacrifice, and an unshakable sense of purpose. She is married to Marcus Hollins, and together they are raising four daughters—four young women who fill her with awe every single day. Watching them grow into themselves, confident and driven, feels almost surreal. 

     That is not all. 

     Their determination mirrors everything she once dreamed of becoming, and in many ways, they have already surpassed those dreams. Being their mother is not just her greatest joy; it is her greatest responsibility and her strongest motivation to keep moving forward. 

     Cristina’s story began long before her own memories. She is a first-generation immigrant who came to the United States from Mexico when she was just two years old, following parents who had arrived earlier to work and prepare a future for their children. She doesn’t remember the crossing, but she remembers the richness of what followed—a childhood lived between two worlds. One was filled with vibrant Mexican traditions, boisterous  family gatherings, and scrumptious food that her mother and aunts lovingly prepared. The other was a neighborhood woven together by many cultures and languages.   

     Moreover, growing up, she never questioned whether she belonged. That realization—that belonging is not always guaranteed—came much later. She was one of eighteen children. Seventeen siblings, a fact that still makes people pause. In her family, there was always laughter, shared responsibility, and an unspoken understanding that no one faced life alone.  

    Family meant everything. At the center of it all stood her mother, Rosalba—a woman whose strength shaped Cristina’s very core. Rosalba believed deeply that hard work could open doors. She was intelligent, determined, compassionate, and endlessly giving. In her world, there was always room for one more plate of food, pride in honest labor, and a responsibility to lift others up. 

     In addition, Cristina watched her mother work two, sometimes three jobs at a time. As a child, she didn’t understand why. As an adult, she understands all too well. Those long hours were the reason her family never went without. When Cristina once told her mother she wanted to go back to school, Rosalba looked at her with confusion—not because she doubted her, but because higher education was a world she herself had never been allowed to enter. When Cristina explained that she wanted to become a social worker to help others, it was difficult for her mother to fully grasp. That quiet tension—the desire to make your parents proud of something they never had the chance to experience—is one many first-generation children know by heart. 

Then, near the end of Cristina’s bachelor’s degree, life shifted in a way she could never have prepared for. Her mother was diagnosed with stage IV rectal cancer. The woman who had always been unbreakable, the family’s superhero, suddenly became fragile. The loss of certainty was devastating. Cristina and her siblings did everything they could to care for her, leaning heavily on one another. Her sisters became her tribe, her lifeline during a season filled with grief and exhaustion. 

Rosalba was too sick to attend Cristina’s graduation.  

But wait. There is more. 

Cristina went to her mother. She dressed her in the cap and gown, placing it gently on her head, and gave her the moment she deserved. There, on the front porch, her mother sat tall and proud, smiling as though chemotherapy had not taken its toll. That image—her mother glowing with pride despite everything—remains one of Cristina’s most treasured memories. 

PICTURE OF HER MOTHER IN THE GRADUATION GOWN HERE 

When Cristina told Rosalba, she planned to apply for the Advanced Master of Social Work program, her mother offered a warning spoken with love and truth: “Don’t start something you can’t finish. Life will happen, Mija. Once you’re in, you’re in all the way.” She knew she wouldn’t be there to see it. And she was right. But those words became fuel—fuel Cristina still carries with her today. 

Her mother’s strength, sacrifice, and unwavering belief live on in everything Cristina does. 

Cristina earned her associate degree from Kilgore College, undergraduate and graduate degrees from Stephen F. Austin State University. It is important to note;  her education was never just about credentials—it was about service. 

For this reason, she built her career in the nonprofit world, choosing purpose over prestige every step of the way. Her journey began as a: 

 *Summer Camp Counselor at Highway 80 Rescue Mission, where she saw how stability and encouragement could change a child’s life.  

*Residential Case Manager at the Women’s Center of East Texas, walking alongside women rebuilding their lives with courage.  

*Mental Health Coordinator at Next Step Community Solutions. 

And Cristina’s story continues. 

Later, she worked for The Martin House Children’s Advocacy Center. Cristina wore many hats including: Family and Children Advocate, Bilingual Forensic Interviewer, and eventually Therapist. As a matter of fact, she became the organization’s first bilingual therapist. This was more than a milestone; it was a doorway. Indeed, families could finally tell their stories in their own language during their most painful moments. This experience reaffirmed her belief that access, representation, and compassion can be life changing. 

Though advocacy and healing have always guided her, Cristina felt a pull towards children. She has always believed that school is a child’s second home—a place where joy and hardship quietly coexist. Currently, she serves as the School Counselor at Longview Independent School District’s Clarence W. Bailey Elementary School. From this front-row seat, she witnesses children’s laughter, struggles, resilience, and unspoken burdens. She is there to listen, to advocate, and to remind the students, again and again—that they matter. 

Over the past decade, Cristina has walked with individuals and families through some of their darkest moments. No matter the setting, her purpose remains the same: to instill hope. She focuses on strengths, not deficits, and she fights fiercely for more compassion, more resources, and more opportunity—because she believes everyone deserves a good life. 

For those who hope to follow a similar path, Cristina offers simple but powerful advice: build relationships. Stay open. Along her journey, strangers became mentors, allies, and friends appeared at just the right time. Community, she believes, can carry you further than talent alone ever will. 

As a Mexican American, first-generation professional, she often finds herself feeling like a non-pareil in the room—one of very few who share her background. At times, it feels isolating. But she refuses to let that reality silence her. 

All the same, she admits, the path is not easy. There are moments when it feels like swimming against the current, questioning whether you truly belong. In those moments, Cristina holds onto this truth:  

*You were meant to be here. 

* Your voice matters.  

*Your presence is needed. 

 *Keep showing up—not just for yourself, but for those who will come after you. 

And her journey continues. 

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