As a mosaic of cultures and ethnicities, I've always found myself navigating through a complex labyrinth of identities. My ancestry test reveals a rich melting pot of 47% Puerto Rican, 11% African, and 32% European, with a strong Lithuanian influence. But numbers are just numbers, and while they shed some light on my ethnic origin, they hardly capture the intricate dance of belonging and identity I've grappled with throughout my life.
Growing up, my racial identity was as fluid as the seasons. I was the fair-skinned 'blancito' among my childhood friends. Then we moved down south, and suddenly, I was the 'Mexican' among my black friends and 'black' among my white friends. It was as if I had been cast into a theatrical play, assigned a role based on the audience's perception. I was the chameleon of race, constantly changing colors, fitting into molds not of my own.
I then moved back up north where the racial dichotomy swung again. Now, to my black friends, I was white, and to my white friends, I was 'Spanish.' Yet, I acted 'black,' or so they said. It was a merry-go-round of racial identity, spinning faster with each move. I found myself questioning: where did I truly belong?
Then, I visited Puerto Rico last year, a journey that would finally answer this question.
From the moment I set foot on the sun-kissed beaches of Puerto Rico, I felt an immediate sense of belonging. The people of this vibrant island embraced me as one of their own, their warmth radiating brighter than the tropical sun. Every conversation was an invitation, every joke was a shared memory, every question was a sincere interest in my story. For the first time in my life, I felt part of something bigger, part of a people. It was a feeling so profound, so beautiful, it brought tears to my eyes and a smile to my heart.
Yet, there was a lingering pain, a realization that this sense of belonging was a stark contrast to the divided landscape of my American home. I believe in an America where we all cohabitate in harmony, welcoming each other without bias. An America where we judge each other not by the color of our skin, but by the content of our character. After all, we are human, and while judgment is in our nature, it should be based on character, not stereotypes.
Visiting Puerto Rico was not just a vacation; it was an emotional pilgrimage of self-discovery. It taught me that identity is not merely a label imposed by society; it's a soulful connection to a people, a culture, a sense of belonging. I am an American, yes, but I am also a proud descendant of Puerto Rico, Africa, and Lithuania.
As I navigate this world, I carry this newfound understanding of my identity like a beacon, guiding me through the complexities of race and ethnicity. It's a journey filled with laughter, tears, confusion, and the joy of discovery. The journey is ongoing, and as I continue to explore my roots, I am reminded that we are all part of the beautiful tapestry of humanity, woven together by our shared experiences and unique stories.