I honestly can’t say if I would have felt comfortable embracing my identity as a Latina enough to enroll in a Latine studies course even just a year ago. Though it’s only my second year of college, Cornell has exposed me to a much larger community of Latine individuals than I’ve ever experienced, and I’ve been fortunate enough to surround myself with them. Still, I find myself in an awkward space at times, unsure about where I fit within this community.
Over fall break, my partner and I stayed in Ithaca together. While I was excited to spend my downtime with him, a part of me was mourning the time I’d typically be spending with my family – away from the lackluster dining hall options that vaguely pass as “Latine representation” with their Spanish rice and taco stations: where I would be enjoying dishes that actually meant something to the people preparing them (in this case, my grandmother). This break marked not only the first time I dabbled in making a Colombian treat of great significance to me with my partner, but also my first-ever attempt at a home dish without the meticulous (yet greatly appreciated!) corrections of my grandmother. To me, it wasn’t just about making buñuelos; I chose to document this specific moment for my project because I had finally reached a point in my life where I felt comfortable enough with my identity as a Latine woman – where I could share the experience with someone I love and who had no exposure to Latine culture before meeting me. More than this, the project captured a silent celebration of the newfound solace I’ve established through finding someone who wholeheartedly embraces these aspects of my identity: ones I’ve subconsciously rejected for most of my adolescence.
My entire life, I’ve grappled with the sense of whether or not I was overstepping in trying to find my place within a community I now recognize I have every right to take part in. My Spanish isn’t perfect, and despite my various attempts over the years, I still cannot roll my Rs. I look stupid when I dance at gatherings, I don’t have a palate for spicy cuisine, and I doubt I’ll ever be as skilled a cook as the women in my family. There will never be a point in time, within the parameters I had previously set for myself, where I believe I could have been “Latine” enough to exist in these spaces. In this course, we’ve explored instances over the past few decades where various Latine individuals have found refuge in a character, a leader, a movement, a concept, a food item – whatever it may be. Very few of these people look like me, speak like me, dress like me, act like me, and yet we form a part of the same collective and cohort who can find solace in the minute similarities of these aspects to our own narratives. I may subconsciously harbor preconceived ideas regarding what Latinidad should look like – still, our in-class discussions showcasing the versatility, range, and intersectionality of Latinidad (for instance, the one we had about video games and their attention to detail in their portrayals of Latine households, the concept of belonging as it pertains to the undocumented, or the notion of pláticas as a whole) have, in a way, deconstructed these rigid preconceptions. This project, therefore, represents a micro-culmination of my 19-year (and counting) journey through revelations in being “Latine enough”: one I otherwise wouldn’t have been able to showcase outside of this course.
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