“You know held? Like a family grasping on to each other because they’ve left behind everything and only have each other left”
When I was little, I never understood why my Familia was so big. I mean I love my family but was it really necessary to invite my grandfathers half brother daughters son? He played with my things and we don’t really look alike.
I don’t remember a Christmas like in the movies I saw. It wasn’t just me and my sister and parents waking up to gifts around the tree and drinking hot cocoa.
Thanksgiving wasn’t what I saw either.
Or birthdays.
Or New Years.
Or baptisms.
Or quinces.
It took me a long time to realize why.
Why we had puerco instead of turkey.
Why we drink Cafe con leche instead of hot cocoa.
Why we had quinces instead of sweet 16s.
Why parties would be rescheduled if someone couldn’t make it.
Why every.single.member. Had to be invited to everything.
Why birthday list were 300 people but you only really talked to 35 of those.
The importance of family being there. And keeping as much of our cultura as we can is something Latinos and immigrants specialize in.
My family grasps onto each other like the way my mom grasped for air as bullets came for her after she crossed the border. We hold on to each other like how my Tio held on to the raft that got him all the way to Miami. We hold on to family and hope the way my grandfather did when he was ordered to kill his neighbors in name of his country. Hold on like my uncle did when he said goodbye to his 15 year old daughter, not knowing if he’d see her again. Hold on to our culture the way my roommate and I do when we talk to each other in our language.
My people grasp onto our families because it’s all we’ve got. We have left our homes, and our language, and our islands, and our countries. But we carry family everywhere.
And our café.
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If you haven’t watched this piece, do. It’s great, check it out
Real Talk'em Betty 