Growing up in a Spanish speaking country only feels special once you leave to live somewhere else. But when looking back, that integrative experience really allowed me to witness at first hand how other people live outside of the United States. 

Many people struggle when it comes to staying true to who they are. They may experience things that cause them to shift their way of thinking and to an extent, their identity. This is all understandable because it is inevitable for people to change and grow up. But there will always be one place that brings them back to their roots and true way of life.

Looking back, a pivotal place in my life is my native country, the Dominican Republic. It was the only place I knew up until I was nine years old, so it holds a special place in my heart. Growing up I knew that my father was American but I had no real connection to that part of me. In other words, I never identified myself with being American. But when I moved to the United States, everything changed. The people were different. The food was different. Nothing felt normal and I desperately wanted to move back. Living in a 99% white community, no one saw the struggle that I was going through. I missed the white rice and beans. I missed the fresh coconuts. I missed the smell of the mountains in my mother’s hometown. I missed my school uniform. I missed the feeling of just being there and that is a feeling that is so indescribable. 

My parents thought that it would be an easy adjustment for me since I was so young and none of my new friends could relate to me wanting to act like them in order to fit in, while at the same time keeping my culture from back home. There came a point that I had given up on trying to balance two parts of my life and ended up cutting ties with people from my past. “Dad please don’t speak Spanish to me in public,” I said at ten years old. “Mami, por favor, aprende rápido el inglés para que podamos hablar más inglés,” I said at 12 years old to my Spanish speaking mother who I wanted to learn English fast so that I would no longer need to speak Spanish. But even though she learned English, we always still communicated in Spanish. I hated it at first and I was embarrassed, but looking back, I know that she did that on purpose. She never wanted me to lose my culture and upbringing. 

I didn’t visit the Dominican for five years and when I returned, everything changed for me. I finally felt a sense of belonging. After all those years of suppressing who I really was, it was like I could finally breathe. Imagine growing up in a place and then all of a sudden you have to leave said place without being able to make a life changing decision like that on your own. That’s what affected me the most, I think. The fact that because I was so young, I didn’t have a say in whether or not I wanted to move to a different county. That decision was made for me. So because my parents moved to better the lives of my siblings and I, I never wanted to act like an ungrateful child and therefore, I tried my best to assimilate into the American culture. Assimilation is such an infamous word and doesn’t feel right when I say it. In my opinion, it shouldn’t feel right. This was not in the 1800s or 1900s and I should’ve never felt this form of suppression, especially being that young. 

A couple years later, my sister graduated from high school and we all took a family trip back to the Dominican Republic. I was scared of going because I had just gotten accustomed to my new life and I didn’t want to be confused when it came to my feelings. I remember being in JFK with so many thoughts running through my head. “What will my grandparents think about who I have become?” “Will my old friends pretend they don’t know who I am?” “Will people think I act too American?” “Is that a bad thing?” Nevertheless, I was not thrilled about this trip. But as soon as we landed in Santo Domingo and I stepped out of that plane and breathed in the Dominican humid air, I felt a little emotional. All my worries vanished and I couldn’t wait for all the activities that my parents had planned for us. We visited my hometown, slept in my old house, walked by my old school, ate from our favorite restaurants. Nothing could replace those moments and when I returned to the states at the end of that summer, I was a more confident person. I was friendlier, assertive, more empathetic, and overall just felt better. That trip made me realize who I really was and ever since then, I always look forward to spending my summers in my home country and coming back ready to take on the school year. My mom knew that I would enjoy my time there and she reminded me that I am a Latina Americana, with an emphasis on Latina and I love sharing my culture with all my friends. 

When asked what the Dominican Republic means to me, it can be difficult for me to put into words all the amazing things that it has to offer. The crystal clear beaches, green mountains, and all the other magnificent landscapes cannot be described simply by using words. Being there and witnessing how beautiful Mother Nature is, is a feeling that is inexplicable. My best moments have been lived there. It is where I was born, where I learned valuable lessons of life, and where I hope to one day raise my kids so that they also get to experience the childhood that I had. All of my friends know how proud I am of my heritage and as much as I have tried to not ignore my American side, it still becomes difficult. But as I have grown older, I learned to not be so hard on myself and to not worry as much about striving for perfection. I have come to terms that the way that I was brought up was not my choice, and being proud of where I was born is nothing to be ashamed of. In the end, bringing something new and interesting to a conversation and a different perspective to things is something that should be celebrated.