Today we’d like to introduce you to Patricia Cohen.
Patricia, we appreciate you taking the time to share your story with us today. Where does your story begin?
The Patricia Cohen Foundation was born from a journey of loss, resilience, and ultimately, purpose.
My story began when I immigrated to the United States from Venezuela and had to start a new life from zero—a reality familiar to anyone who has experienced the weight of beginning again. Leaving behind everything I knew—my culture, my family, my friends, my language—felt as though I had been stripped of my identity. In many ways, it was like walking naked at the beginning of a very long road, stopping along the way to slowly rebuild myself, piece by piece, until I could feel whole again.
What I left behind was not just familiarity, but a prosperous life filled with opportunities and joyful moments. As a young woman, I believed that sense of security would last forever. But over time, I came to understand a difficult truth: the decisions of those who govern our countries can alter the course of our lives in ways we cannot control.
That experience marked me deeply. It took me on an internal journey—one filled with emotions I had never encountered before. I was young and unprepared for loneliness, for constant stress, for the relentless pace of survival. I forgot what it meant to enjoy life. I was functioning, but not truly living—operating on an automatic survival mode without even realizing it.
Immigration is, in many ways, a traumatic experience—one that is rarely acknowledged or openly discussed by those living through it. And yet, even then, I remained curious about what my future might hold. Looking back today, I can say with certainty that every sacrifice was worth it.
As time passed, I adapted. I became capable of doing everything required of me. I learned the language, found better job opportunities, and moved forward. But emotionally, I had become disconnected. My feelings had been set aside—there was no space for them in a life focused solely on survival.
Life, however, has its own way of guiding us.
Sometimes we find ourselves in places where we feel we do not belong, surrounded by people whose lives are entirely different from our own. I came to understand that not everything needs to be explained in the moment. Life unfolds in its own time, and sometimes the only thing we can do is trust the process and continue forward.
Then came an unexpected turning point.
While applying for a position in journalism through a work agency, something unforeseen happened. During my interview, the agent received a call from someone urgently seeking a trainable candidate to enter the criminal justice field. I remember her looking directly at me and saying, “I have the person you’re looking for sitting right in front of me.”
She encouraged me not to let the opportunity pass—promising stability, benefits, and a future. I hesitated. Journalism was the path I had envisioned for myself. But her insistence was strong: “Go, Patricia. These opportunities don’t come often. Anyone would want to be where you are right now.”
Still uncertain, I moved forward—and my life changed.
I was hired, trained intensively, and placed in a role that demanded both discipline and emotional strength. I monitored individuals preparing for reintegration into society after years of incarceration. I conducted home inspections, often in the homes of family members willing to receive them. I carried out interviews, documenting every word they shared, capturing their stories as they were told. My responsibilities extended far beyond what can be fully described.
That experience removed me from what I once considered my “normal” life. It exposed me to realities I had never known.
I always knew I would eventually decide whether to continue in that field. After one year, I chose to step away—with gratitude. I needed to return to myself—to my smile, my sense of humor, and my emotional connection to life, which I had put aside. But I did not leave unchanged.
What I gained was something far more valuable: a profound sense of empathy and compassion.
For the first time, I saw beyond judgment. I felt deeply for the circumstances of others. In many ways, I realized that we were all experiencing different forms of confinement—them in their situations, and me in my own.
While working with them, I began to recognize something even more personal: I had not been taking care of myself. It felt as though I had been asleep, disconnected from my own life. And that realization was both powerful and necessary.
I witnessed the consequences of misplaced trust, of ignoring intuition, of making decisions without guidance. I saw sadness, regret, and the weight of pain people carry. Those experiences stayed with me.
And while others around me were discovering their purpose, I found mine.
After closing that chapter, I dedicated myself to volunteering in my community. Once again, I discovered the importance—and the urgency—of being of service to others.
I spent time in hospitals, often holding the hand of someone going into surgery alone. I visited women in detention centers who had no visitors. I supported families in children’s hospitals, bringing meals to parents whose children were in critical condition.
At the time, I did not fully understand why life had taken me through the criminal justice field. But today, I see it clearly. Beyond reconnecting me with my emotions, it prepared me to serve others with compassion and understanding.
Because the truth is, we are all human beings. Professional success and material possessions do not define our well-being, our joy, or our fulfillment.
I have experienced a kind of happiness that cannot be measured—one that comes from serving others. I have felt poor while earning a good salary, and I have felt like a millionaire through acts of compassion.
The people I met during those years—whether in hospitals or detention centers—were individuals I encountered only briefly. I was not allowed to maintain contact with them, and I may never know the impact our moments together had on their lives.
But I know the impact they had on mine.
Those moments became the foundation of The Patricia Cohen Foundation. They shaped its mission, its vision, and its programs. For that, I will always be deeply grateful.
This foundation is a tribute—to the courage, resilience, and sacrifices of the women and families I met. To the women who dream of a better future despite their circumstances. To the mothers who never lost hope while fighting for their children’s recovery.
This initiative is my way of saying thank you—for allowing me to serve them, and for allowing me to heal through that service.
Because, after all, who has not felt lost, overwhelmed, or desperate at some point in life? What changes are the circumstances—the places, the languages—but the emotions are universal.
Today, my life is no longer centered on myself. It is centered on helping others.
I believe that even a small moment of attention given to someone—whether known or unknown, regardless of their situation—is a profound act of love.
And in the end, that is what truly matters.
The Patricia Cohen Foundation supports children and women navigating crisis, helping them rebuild their lives with dignity, confidence, and hope.
Would you say it’s been a smooth road, and if not what are some of the biggest challenges you’ve faced along the way?
It has not been a smooth road. The most significant challenges were starting over as an immigrant—leaving behind everything familiar and facing loneliness, stress, and survival mode.
Another key struggle was entering the criminal justice field unexpectedly, which exposed me to difficult human realities and deeply impacted me emotionally.
At the same time, I had to reconnect with myself after years of putting my emotions aside.
Those experiences shaped who I am today and ultimately led me to create The Patricia Cohen Foundation to support women and children facing hardship.
Can you tell our readers more about what you do and what you think sets you apart from others?
I serve as the CEO of The Patricia Cohen Foundation, where I focus on philanthropic work dedicated to supporting women and children navigating difficult circumstances. In addition to my work in the nonprofit sector, I am also a children’s book author, including Meet My Papa and its Spanish version, Les Presento a Papá.
Writer, children’s literature author, acclaimed documentarian and filmmaker, and a graduate of the University of Miami with a degree in Journalism (Written Journalism).
I am known for my commitment to philanthropy and for my work in children’s literature, where I aim to create meaningful and emotionally resonant stories.
What I am most proud of is my sensitivity—the ability to see beyond what is immediately presented and to connect deeply with others. That perspective allows me to approach both my humanitarian work and my writing with empathy, authenticity, and honesty.
What sets me apart is confidence—not only in my vision, but in my ability to follow it with purpose, even when the path is uncertain.
What quality or characteristic do you feel is most important to your success?
I would say resilience. The ability to keep moving forward despite uncertainty, emotional challenges, and unexpected changes has been essential in my journey.
But equally important has been empathy—because it is what transformed my experiences into a purpose. It allowed me to connect with others on a deeper level and ultimately led to the creation of The Patricia Cohen Foundation.
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