Counting the elements on the table, I am ready to begin the ritual of creating my first artificial crystal. These tiny natural formations that have always caught my attention, could finally become my own patented creation. I proceed to grab the sugar jar that reads zucchero Italiano, aluminum foil, and a pen. While writing, I remember that this last item is an Argentine invention—the country where I grew up and live in despite being born in the United States.
As the ink dyes the sugar, I ponder how the blending of such different ingredients will culminate into replicas of those crystals found close to where I was born in Sequoia National Park, California. Next, I continue shaping the crystal’s base by molding aluminum foil into a shell, and placing the sugary mixture on top. This metallic support is vital, just as our society, citizenship and its needs, are for me.
“Why learn about crystals? I thought you were a social sciences kind of girl,” teachers and peers asked. I reflected upon their questioning but could not find a concrete answer: I guess I am more intricate to decipher. While a part of me was still occupied with daily activities such as writing newspaper-like articles and debating about politics, another part of me was starting its crystallization process.
When making crystals, I observe my soul’s reflection. Harmonically merged, all the elements building up the crystalline compound, are just like my life. No two crystallized sugar grains are alike. Nonetheless, they all possess the same significance inside the preparation. The same diversity is exhibited amongst my passion for working with and for others: cooking for those in need inside my community, mutating into characters onstage for people to enjoy and identify with, and cleaning collectively Paraná River’s waters hoping to preserve our environment.
Interestingly, this particular crystal has a special color: my biculturalism. I used to feel I was not enough for neither Argentina nor the United States. I was the outsider inside my own stalactite cave. Searching within myself became as arduous as finding resources to accompany my independent, and amateur crystal research.
However, despite others’ skepticism about both crystallography and my cultural identity, I continued to find myself shedding light on more unexplored topics, questioning what was out of the norm. I did not surrender because I was confident in my ability to transform these feelings of inadequacy. I recognized the beauty behind my biculturalism was born to be shared: teaching the 50 States Song to my peers, improvising Spanish translations for my American friends, and connecting people while building understanding with new perspectives.
My biculturalism is equally as important for me as it is for others: uniting people from diverse backgrounds makes us understand we are all humans, and that our cultural differences are no impediment to building relationships—sharing cultural awareness and acceptance. We all share the same aspirations, dreams, and feelings, regardless of time zone or latitude.
Now, I consider myself my own unique type of crystal. “Bi-union”—bicultural unity— is what I like to call it. Its distinctiveness lies in integrating cultures without the limitation of borders, and constantly sparking eachother’s curiosity about languages and traditions. My individual life perspective has been shaped by American values while incorporating Argentina’s culture. I continue to celebrate my bi-unity by praising Spanglish and my latino heritage with pride and gratefulness while inviting others to discover their inner crystal.
Crafting my own kind of biculturalism is a process as challenging as shaping any crystalline piece to my liking. Today, my goal is to become a communication channel between countries: integrating, motivating, and educating others while making them feel part of the team. I, like any crystal with its superficial impurities and unique brilliance, will forever be a soul in constant construction open to growth and built by the people and new experiences incorporated into my life.
Valentina Ravaioli, ’26