Crossing the Threshold

“This poem is about the anxieties experienced as an immigrant and person of color. I”m sure others have also had similar experiences. As I reflected on the events triggered by racism in this country and the impacts of those events on me, as a minority, many of my own experiences came to the surface, including the ones reflected here.”

Traveling is a freedom, a privilege.

Adventures and new discoveries usually await.

Excitement and happiness lead the way.

But then I have to cross the threshold of belonging.

And that shakes me and brings doubts to my disdain.

Stay close to my husband.

Our eyes connect.

Keep your distance.

Within grasp, just in case.

A feeling of uneasiness grows stronger.

There is fear.

Anxiety.

As my heart races faster my pulse keeping pace.

Wondering if everything will be okay.

Do I belong in their side? Will they welcome me back?

Do they look at me different?

Do they want to know more?

Don’t make eye contact.

Stay quiet.

It’s better that way.

As I cross the threshold,

I look back at my soulmate.

Please keep me safe.

Don’t lose sight of me.

I might need your help,

I might need you to come by.

I might need you to speak for me.

I might need you to tell them that I belong in your arms.

Maybe one day I’ll get used to it?

I have your back, my sweetheart

Just calm down.

I would never let anything happen to you.

I see your eyes on me. I’m here.

I see you.

I would never let anything happen to you.

I’ll protect you and everything will be okay, my love.

Maybe one day I will feel that I belong…

I wonder…

While walking…

Feelings of anxiety, fear, uneasiness, discomfort.

Based on what’s happening to others that look like me around the country.

I wonder if those feelings of hatred are also around me?

As I walk around my town…

Hatred has been encouraged.

Division is rampant in our country.

I wonder…

Who’s on my side?

What others in the other side think when they see me?

Is my life in danger?

Will I ever know that my life is in danger?

Will I only know that my life was in danger after something happens?

After I don’t have any recourse or anyway of protecting myself?

I wonder…

I don’t want to feel this way.

It’s exhausting to feel this way.

We all have challenges in our lives.

I don’t want this extra burden.

I don’t want to be fearful, anxious, uncomfortable, uneasy.

I don’t want to wonder.

I don’t want to wonder but I don’t think I have been given a choice.

Based on who I am,

I’ve been forced to wonder.

I’ve been forced to deal with a reality that I don’t like, but it exists around me.

I wish I could be different.

I wish I could be in a more peaceful place.

I wish I wouldn’t have these thoughts today.

The wondering thoughts drain my energy.

The wondering thoughts drain my soul.

A heavy burden.

Sometimes I wish I had a lighter load.

My mind wanders to places that are painful.

The suffering of others causes pain.

The unfairness in the world causes pain.

There’s heaviness in my heart.

In my mind.

In my soul.

As I wonder, as my mind wanders.

I’m blessed with love, others are not in this world.

Maybe that’s what I should tell myself, to lessen the pain…

When my mind wonders.

How blessed I am having love in my life, unconditional, pure love!

But my mind wanders.

Hurting

The country is in despair. We are in the midst of not only a pandemic but in the midst of awful events that have happened recently where racial minorities have been killed – murdered. Racism is on the spotlight as the country struggles to acknowledge the social and economic disparities affecting racial minorities in the United States.

As a Hispanic in this country, watching and listening to the news and seeing graphic videos of violence against African-Americans and Hispanics have been overwhelming. I share the fear, anxiety, and pain of those who have been insulted, disrespected, abused, oppressed, and discriminated against. I hurt as many others do and the pain is real.

As I embark on many walks trying to clear my head, I can’t seem to be able to push away the ugly reality that surrounds me. In a way, I feel compelled to think and reflect and to not forget the pain that others have experienced, especially those who lost their life without reason – their execution driven by irreverence and violence toward persons of color. As I observe these atrocities committed toward others that look like me, I wonder if something similar could ever happen to me.

In a Different Place

Yesterday I went back to work after the federal government shutdown ended. I had mixed feelings about returning to work. After more than 30 days of being furloughed (out of work), I started getting used to the idea of being home. For me, it was like a test of what retirement could be. I was not bored or missing work. I focused on my writing and that brought a lot of joy.

At home during the last month, I had a lot of time to reflect about my life. My career, and being successful at my job, has always been a big part of my life – maybe too big of a part of my life. I have always been a responsible, dedicated, and loyal employee. As a manager, I embraced the responsibility of taking care of others. Eventually, that devotion and commitment took a toll on my emotional health. I allowed my career to dominate and define my life.

The last few years have been tough, especially after my dad passed in 2016. Besides the grief and emotional strain of losing my dad, I also started reflecting on my career. I observed organizational issues that bothered me and spent a lot of energy deciphering the best way to address the issues. These have been difficult times. In addition to management concerns, I was having a very tough time confronting the open disdain for minorities and Hispanics in this country, which compounded the pain. As a Hispanic in this country, I felt attacked and disrespected. The messages coming from the highest levels of the new Administration revealed a tone that made me feel uncomfortable. I was a government employee and the political rhetoric around minority issues impacted me at a personal level. My self-confidence was shaken.

During the recent shutdown and my stay at home, I found relaxation and peace. I feared going back to work and getting back to a place that would trigger sadness and distress. But I feel that I changed. I am in a different place. The start of my blog and the freedom to focus on my writing has changed my perspective about work.

I did a lot of self-reflection while I was out of work. In a way, the shutdown contributed to my journey of self-discovery, including bringing light and clarification on my life priorities. I realize that it is not right to allow my job to have such power over my life and happiness. I no longer want my job and career to determine my identity. My soul is so much bigger and richer than my job.

My career has been and will always be part of my life. But the key is to remind myself that it is a small part compared to my life’s full purpose and all the things I want to accomplish. There are a million things that I want to do, write, to feed my soul. Realizing the dream of writing is where I want to spend my emotional energy. It doesn’t mean that I cannot continue to be committed to my career. I still have a few years until retirement. I don’t intend to abandon my job responsibilities. However, having clarity on the goals that my soul wants to pursue means that I will be setting boundaries to ensure that my career doesn’t control my life.

My new perspective brings comfort. I have already started practicing a different outlook during my first day back at work. The renewed attitude aligns with who I want to be – with my soul. From now on, I want my soul to guide my life. The road ahead is not all clear, but I have started a journey and I am confident that my soul will lead me to the right place – a different place where I can pursue and nurture my passion for writing.

The Calm after the Hurricane

Yesterday I wrote about the difficult topic of encountering racism in the United States through my own experience and the experiences that others have shared with me. I purposely didn’t give any details of my experience.

I didn’t want to focus on the details, as what was important to me was to share that I, as many other fellow minorities, have been exposed to the evil tentacles of racism. My purpose was to bring attention to this topic and to let the reader know that it hurts.

Someone made disrespectful comments because of my Hispanic accent. At the time, I was discussing an issue with someone over the phone. The subject was complicated and I was asking questions and debating the issues at hand. Out of nowhere, the other person belittled me by implying that I was not understanding the subject due to my Hispanic origin. With a disrespectful and racially-minded tone, the individual asked me in a mockingly way if I needed for him to explain the matter in Spanish, as it looked like I was not understanding or following the discussion because I was debating the issue with him. I was shocked. I honestly can’t remember a lot of the details of what happened after the hurtful comments. I probably hanged up. This experience occurred at work and it was a work-related discussion. After retreating in pain, I eventually confronted the person and reported the incident to his management. I received a call from his manager, a woman, who apologized to me on his behalf and explained that the individual was officially reprimanded and ordered to take diversity training.

My experience happened many years ago, but it changed me forever. Going back is usually needed to move forward, so sharing the story helps me. Maybe you as the reader can also relate or can learn something about it. Maybe we should all reflect about not judging people based on their group identity. Maybe we should not put labels on people, but allow ourselves to discover people as individuals, as human beings – not as men or women, or Hispanics, or Americans, or members of a specific ethnicity or group. We are all different and we are all unique.

“Don’t judge. Be open minded when you interact with someone and allow yourself to discover that person, not as a member of a group or a stereotype, but as an individual.” — IS

The pain and the many questions that came to my mind after the experience ultimately contributed to where I am today – writing my blog and my story.

“Finding something positive about a negative experience is usually a healthy way of dealing with life’s unexpected turns – a way to survive and learn.” — IS

When something really awful happens, it might not be obvious immediately that there is something to be learned or that there could be a positive element that could arise later. When you are in that tumultuous hurricane, you feel like you are spinning out of control and it is hard to get free of the turbulence while you are disappointed or hurt. But I survived the hurricane. There was so much confusion and so much pain…but I survived.

I never knew then, where I will be today. I probably never thought about the positives then. As they say, hindsight is 20-20, and it is true. It is ok to be reminded of where I have been. Everything becomes clearer after the storm.

“It is easier to recognize the ‘positives’ after you look back.” — IS

There are scars, but I’m stronger and wiser. I am excited about this new path that I am carving as I go. There are probably many more mysteries ahead of me – the journey of self-discovery that hopefully will lead to a better place. It brings me happiness to be discovering new things about myself, life, and everything around me. To be in this journey is overwhelming at times, but also very comforting.

I turned a corner in my life and I am proud of myself to make the turn. Some time ago, when the hurricane hit, I was a wreck. Today I stand tall with my Puerto Rican coqui soul.

My Initial Encounter with Diversity and Racism

I left Puerto Rico more than 34 years ago, when I went to Michigan to pursue graduate studies. As a 21-year old heading toward graduate school, I really did not think much about the significance of that moment – my life changed forever.

I enjoyed graduate school immensely. I attended the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor. The world became my backyard, as I met friends from all over the globe. I was like a sponge, taking in all the experiences as part of the journey. My exposure to diversity enriched my knowledge of people and cultures. But there was also a different perspective that was thrown into the picture – one that I have not previously experienced. In the United States, diversity began to take a different connotation focused on race and ethnicity.

I never saw myself as a member of a racial group before I came to the United States. I was Puerto Rican. In Puerto Rico, there is a kaleidoscope of skin colors – a mosaic that transcends a singular defined race. The road of racial differentiation started when I had to fill the application to attend graduate school. The form asked about race and ethnicity. Hispanic was in the list, so I checked the box. That was the first time that I distinguished myself as Hispanic. This event seemed trivial, but eventually impacted my views about diversity and my life experiences. From that point on, I was in a ‘box’ – the Hispanic box – and labeled a minority.

The minority seed germinated in my psyche, developing and growing as I was being assimilated into the American culture. I wondered about the inquiring questions of the application. Why did it matter? As it turned out, I got into graduate school with a minority scholarship, so I adopted the Hispanic classification with pride and moved on. I would have never being able to attend graduate school if it was not for that scholarship. Being a minority gave me the opportunity to go to graduate school. I did not think much about the full meaning of my new label.

Living in the United States I found out that the minority label never leaves you. The color of my skin and my accent always gave away the fact that I was different. Everywhere I went, I would be asked about my origins. Eventually I also discovered that the undertones of being a minority were not always positive. I learned that minorities also experience discrimination – a reality that was uncomfortable to bear.

As I entered the workforce, I participated in diversity awareness seminars and found out that employers were focusing on training employees to respect differences and prevent discrimination. I ended up in a leadership role for the diversity training in my workplace. It was assumed that because I was a minority I should be able to help train employees. However, I have never experienced discrimination and I was actually learning myself from the experiences of other minorities. I was proud to be Puerto Rican – and Hispanic. But I was also an American citizen, so I didn’t quite understood the necessity for racial differentiation. I ended up meeting some fellow co-workers that had experienced discrimination and I joined in the cause to illuminate others about diversity.

Eventually, as life would have it, I also ended up experiencing discrimination. I then understood the pain that other fellow minorities have experienced in the United States. The discriminatory experience resulted in a scar to my soul that still generates pain when touched. The scar is a reminder of the awful reality of racism.

I will never forget my first encounter with racism. It has never be easy for me to open up about my first experience with discrimination or about being a racial minority in this country. Living in the United States opened my eyes in ways that sadden me. I have been touched by the dark tentacles of racial discrimination. I’m no longer ‘virgin’ to the terrible impacts of its darkness. I now can relate to other racial minorities.

Today I gathered the courage to write about this. Bringing awareness to this tough topic is important and relevant to the times that we live in today. Many in this country are experiencing difficult times while the news relate the hate expressed to minorities in many fronts. The openness of this hate is hurtful.

When racism against minorities is expressed openly it hurts. It impacts my daily life. I can’t rip off my skin to show a different color or magically get rid of my Hispanic accent. The pain saddens my soul.

I decided to write this today because my sister had a recent negative experience related to this topic that inspired me. I also decided to write about this today because these type of experiences define our souls. Despite the pain, I believe it is important for me to confront these emotions, as they are part of my soul-searching journey and who I am today.

The Duality of Language – A Glimpse to My Identity Journey

When I went to my first writing class, I had an encounter with one of the biggest dualities that I live with as a Puerto Rican in the United States. The example I will be sharing portrays a reality that I have lived with for many years, but that has been difficult to explain to myself. The situation is real and exemplifies many other situations throughout my life as a Puerto Rican in the United States.

I purposely decided to go to class early, as I have missed the first class and wanted to have a chance to meet the instructor. I had contacted the instructor by email after I registered for the writing class, but this was my first time in class. I entered the classroom and selected a desk. The instructor was in the room and recognized that I was new.

“Are you Ines?” the instructor asked.

“Yes,” I said.

The instructor then said, “Mucho gusto.”

(‘Mucho gusto’ means something like ‘nice to meet you’ in Spanish)

It is funny how this introduction reflected on many of the things that I have been thinking about before signing up for the class. I have sent the introductory homework piece to the instructor ahead of time, the title of which was ‘I’m Still Puerto Rican.’ Knowing about my piece, the instructor probably assumed that I spoke Spanish so she was trying to connect with me in my native language. What’s funny is that when I was confronted with the Spanish greeting, I naturally responded to her in English. I was not in a Spanish environment (I was in Michigan), so I didn’t think in Spanish. She proceeded to tell me that she knew a little Spanish.

In my head, I thought,

“That’s good, but I’m not speaking Spanish.”

What my head was thinking was brought up by the duality that lives inside me: Spanish vs. English; Puerto Rican vs. American. Of course, I didn’t say what my brain thought. That would have been rude or impossible for her to understand. I just nodded my head.

The instructor went on to tell me that the topic of duality that I shared in my introductory piece (‘I’m Still Puerto Rican’) was a good topic to explore. (The link to my introductory piece, I’m Still Puerto Rican, is included at the end of this post) The instructor’s comment brought a lot of hope and encouragement, as I have been thinking about this topic, and how to better understand it, for a while.

The duality of language – the way my brain works and reacts around both languages – was indeed an interesting topic to explore. I have debated a lot of questions about this topic throughout the years.

How I move from one language to the other. How it feels foreign and strange to think in Spanish while I’m here in Michigan. How I think in English every day of my life in Michigan. How I feel emotions in English. How it is easier for me to express my feelings in English. How I struggle in Puerto Rico trying to come up with Spanish words. How I have an accent in both languages. Yes, I have an accent in Spanish and English.

It should not be surprising that I think in English, as I have been in the States for over 34 years. I live and work in Michigan and my daily life happens in English, not Spanish. I only speak Spanish over the phone when I call my mom, or when I visit Puerto Rico. But even in Puerto Rico, it is hard for me to speak Spanish all the time, as my husband is not Puerto Rican and I don’t like to exclude him from what’s going on in a conversation. But sometimes I feel pressure to speak Spanish in Puerto Rico because that’s my native language and Puerto Rico is my native country.

Even with my sister, it is usually a mix of English and Spanish. We go back and forth, but English usually wins as we are expressing our feelings and emotions. My sister lives in Massachusetts and she has also been in the States for many years.

My husband is amazed that I can go from one language to the other. It might seem easy, but it is very difficult sometimes, especially when I’m trying to remember words in Spanish. Mostly, my language choice is determined by the environment where I am. If I’m in Michigan or anywhere in the States, there is no Spanish at all that comes to mind. When I’m in Puerto Rico around my mom and family, I speak Spanish. But there is an internal struggle that I try to hide as best as I can, although it becomes obvious to others when I’m forgetting words. Some friends in Puerto Rico brought to my attention that I have an English accent when I speak Spanish. That was quite a surprise to me. I know I have a Spanish accent when I talk in English, but now it happens both ways – English and Spanish.

Having an accent in both Spanish and English makes me think a lot about not belonging to either Puerto Rico or the United States. Sometimes I feel like a stranger in both places, which I will be exploring a lot more in this blog. This duality goes a lot deeper than just the language. The language duality triggers a lots of feelings (many I can’t explain). The language dichotomy awakens in me spurs of anxiety and uneasiness. I also realize that there is a confidence issue that comes up during the language struggles. For some strange reason my mind goes to a lot of places when I meet someone in the States and they quickly ask me where I am from. I have always assumed that they are asking me the question because they detect an accent. They don’t ask that question to my husband when we are together.

My usual response – and I have gotten better at it with time – is: “I’m from Michigan, but I’m originally from Puerto Rico.”

I always feel the urge to explain and clarify the situation. I have gotten pretty good at my answer. My husband usually observes with curiosity. He knows what’s going on in my head. He knows that the ‘question’ bothers me because it triggers a lot of weird emotions in my head. This is one of the reasons why I’m going through this soul searching journey.

Being a Puerto Rican in the United States, with an accent I should add, creates some complicated reactions in my head. My brain tells me that when I’m being asked the ‘question’ somehow it pinpoints the fact that I’m different – I have an accent, I have brown skin, I look different from other people in the room (most of the time). Being different brings awareness about being a Hispanic minority in the States. Somehow I feel like an outcast.

I know that the language issue and my reactions to the question of ‘where am I from’ exemplify the tangle of emotions that arise with my search for identity. My soul feels pulled by two different forces that clash. Am I Puerto Rican? Am I American? Theoretically, I’m both because as a native Puerto Rican, I’m also an American citizen. But sometimes I feel that I’m neither. I think the key is that I’m actually a combination of both identities, and maybe a lot of other things that I identify with.

My soul searching journey will explore many of the identity contradictions that I live with. I’m sure the journey will be long, but it will be worth it. Maybe there will not be an end to it. Maybe there doesn’t need to be an end, but an acknowledgement of the journey itself will be enough to find comfort and peace. Life is a journey. My coqui soul project is also a journey.

I’m happy to be in this journey with you, the reader. Maybe you can also discover something about yourself along this journey.

I’m Still Puerto Rican

(My first piece for my writing class, from 2016)

I am arriving in Puerto Rico today and I feel this immense pounding force in my chest, like part of my soul is awakening and need to come out. Looking through the window of the plane, I see the green rolling hills, the beach, the blue sky and puffy clouds, and the sun that you can almost touch. My heart palpitates, and suddenly an amazing burst of feelings follows… happiness, and after some contemplation, sorrow. With the feelings comes an array of thousand thoughts and an immense need to share… And that is how I decided to write this story.

Only someone from Puerto Rico can truly understand what I mean or what I feel. I want to explore these feelings and write about them so I can better understand myself and so I can share my journey of discovery. My hope is that you will learn something about me and maybe even discover something about yourself.

The dichotomy of my story – how I so completely adapted to my new home and life in Ann Arbor, and how much the feelings of my homeland, Puerto Rico, are still inside me and rush to the surface as soon as I approach “La Isla del Encanto.” The duality of being Puerto Rican. The internal forces that pull in different directions when you are watching a basketball game between United States and Puerto Rico. These dormant feelings hide in a little corner of my mind and heart, but they are certainly real and powerful. These familiar feelings also come rushing when I listen to “El Gran Combo,” or watch Miss Universe. There is a duality, but maybe I don’t have to pick a side, maybe I can survive in both worlds.

There is a balance inside me that I feel has shifted toward my current life – because I have adapted so much, so completely to my life with my loving husband in Ann Arbor (who reminds me about how much I enjoy running in cold weather). But somehow, that balance shifts very strongly the other way telling me that I am still, and will always be, very much Puerto Rican.

Furloughed

I work for the federal government and my agency is currently experiencing a shutdown. That means that I’m furloughed – which in simple words means that I’m not allowed to work and thus, I’m not receiving a paycheck.

The furlough started while I was in Puerto Rico for the Holidays. Today is day 26 of the government shutdown with no end in sight.

If you follow up the politics you know that the President didn’t fund the government, as he didn’t get the billions of dollars that he was asking to build a wall between the United States and Mexico. The topic of the wall has been a difficult one for me to deal with since Trump was promising a wall when he was campaigning for the Presidency. Even before Trump became President, his comments about immigrants from Mexico and other Hispanic countries were offensive and discriminatory. Nothing has changed since then.

In my opinion, the views about Mexican and other Hispanic immigrants and the fear that Trump is trying to create by saying that we need a wall is nothing more than an attempt to prevent people in need to come to this country and earn a decent living. Immigrants are not taking jobs from Americans. However, most of them have brown skin and that in my opinion, is the biggest reason why immigrants from Mexico and South America are been discriminated against. To me this is the same old racism that has existed in the United States since its beginnings. I thought there was progress about acceptance of diversity in this country. However, the actions of Trump and his supporters during his campaign and now during his Administration tells me that racial discrimination in this country is alive and well. Trump has not only offended minorities, but has opened the door to blatant racism and discriminatory language in this country.

I would like to get my job back and would also like to get paid for my job. However, I don’t support building the wall and as such, I’m willing to be furloughed for the cause.

A Tale of Two Christmases

Today I’m heading to Puerto Rico for Christmas. It is funny that as I’m getting ready this morning, I find myself humming Christmas tunes. But not Christmas tunes from Puerto Rico, but American Christmas songs. ‘I’ll be home for Christmas’ was in my mind and I couldn’t get it out of my head. I’m glad that I was humming songs, as that was a sign that I was somewhat relaxed.

It is always stressful to travel, especially when we are flying long distance, like to Puerto Rico. My husband and I were traveling for the Holidays for a long stay this time – three weeks – so packing was a challenge, especially when we only take carry-on luggage.

Thinking about our travel this morning reminded me of the two types of Christmas that I have experienced since I married. We alternate each year to visit family and the Christmases are totally different. Every other year we go to Idaho to my in-laws. Spending Christmas in Idaho, for someone from Puerto Rico, has always been challenging for me. Not because I don’t want to visit my husband’s family, but because I miss Puerto Rico during Christmas more than any other time in the year. It is usually a very melancholic time for me. During Christmas, my coqui soul wants to be in Puerto Rico. It is hard for me, as my husband also experiences being homesick and he wants to go to Idaho so bad. But for me, is more than a location. Our Christmas in Idaho is such a departure from what I grew up with in Puerto Rico.

Christmas in Idaho is all about family and football at the home of my in-laws. It is usually cold, there is usually a lot of snow, and we don’t go out much. As everyone else in my in-laws family, I’m also interested in the bowl games and rooting for my football team, University of Michigan. But the feeling around the family gathering is completely different from what I grew up with in Puerto Rico. I have been married for 23 years, which means that we have been going to my in-laws for a long time. Despite that, I still miss the Christmas spirit in Puerto Rico. At this time of the year, something takes over my head – feelings of melancholy toward my native Puerto Rico and my family – and I find myself unable to control those feelings. I feel torn between my American life in the United States and the usual American Christmas, and my Puerto Rican identity and cultural attachment to the island that pulls me in a different direction.

I enjoy the American Christmas’ traditions. I usually start humming American Christmas songs in early December, as my birthday approaches. I really get into the American Christmas spirit. And that makes sense, as I have lived in the States for more than half my life. But there are always different feelings that wake up during the Christmas season related to my Puerto Rican roots. Christmas in Puerto Rico is so different, because Puerto Rican culture is completely different from the United States. The Puerto Rican Christmas is rich with music and dance. There are the ‘parrandas’ where groups gather to sing Puerto Rican Christmas songs while going from house to house. There is the celebration of Three Kings Day where Puerto Rican kids get gifts for a second time during the season – after receiving gifts from Santa Claus on Christmas day. There are the special Christmas songs that are newly released each year – yes, every Christmas, there are new songs written for the season and the radio stations fill their broadcast with traditional and newly released songs.

Besides the cultural differences, there is the warm weather. Christmas weather in Puerto Rico is usually around 80 degrees – not much different from the weather throughout the year. After all, we are in the Caribbean, and weather in the Caribbean doesn’t change much. You live in shorts and t-shirts, you can go to the beach, and a ‘party-like’ atmosphere dominates every day during the holiday season. Also, the season in Puerto Rico goes forever. It usually starts after Thanksgiving, like in the United States, but that’s pretty much the only similarity. Holidays in Puerto Rico extend way beyond Christmas Day. There is the excitement of Christmas and gifts to be given and received, but then comes New Year’s Eve – a big day in Puerto Rico, where there are celebrations throughout the neighborhoods and hotels. In fact, my husband and I will go with my parents to celebrate New Year’s at a hotel every time we were visiting Puerto Rico. New Year’s Day seems to define the end of the Holiday season in the United States. But in Puerto Rico, that is only the beginning. After New Year’s, there is Three Kings Day (January 6) – a big celebration in Puerto Rico, where kids get gifts a second time. Then Puerto Ricans keep adding holidays after January 6. There are the ‘octavas’ (eight days after January 6), and then the ‘octavitas’ (eight days after that). But wait…it’s not over yet. If you are in San Juan, then you celebrate the ‘Fiestas de San Sebastian,’ starting about mid-January – a ‘Mardi Gras’ like celebration where people flood the streets of Old San Juan for a week, with continuous parades of music and dancing everywhere you go. I have never experienced the ‘Fiestas de San Sebastian,’ but I hope to do that someday.

So, as I said earlier, the Christmas/Holiday season in Puerto Rico is very different from the United States in many ways, both in cultural and timeline terms. Being from Puerto Rico, it is difficult to not miss the spirit of celebration that permeates throughout the island during the Holidays. Christmas in Puerto Rico is like nothing else in the world, as the cultural roots dominate the music, dance, and traditions during the many festivities.

Puerto Ricans are Americans by birth, but our cultural roots go back more than five hundred years when Christopher Columbus discovered the island in 1492. Puerto Rican culture is a complex mix of Spanish, African, and American traditions. But the Spanish and African traditions are the oldest and most ingrained in our culture. We have only be part of the United States for a little over 100 years. Before the United States landed in Puerto Rico, there was already a very strong culture fully developed and deeply impressed in the psyche of Puerto Ricans.

Being torn between two cultures is not a new feeling for me. In fact, the reason why I’m going through this journey of self-discovery is because I feel torn and uneasy a lot lately, especially as I grow older. It’s like the longer I live in the United States, the stronger the feelings of wanting to find myself – the harder the struggle with my identity and wanting to understand and getting in touch with my soul – my coqui soul.

I live in two cultures. Thus, I experience two Christmases.