In a lot of ways, I’m a typical American teenager. I spend time hanging out with my friends. I like to paint. I talk a lot, and I love making people laugh.
But despite all that, I often feel out of place.
My family is one of a few non-White families in our suburban neighborhood. Most of my friends have parents who grew up in the U.S. My parents, on the other hand, came here from Mexico before I was born.
Every weekend, we gather at my grandmother’s house. She cooks delicious food. My favorite is her tamales. In our culture, tamales represent family. Sometimes I help her fill the dried corn husks with a corn dough called masa. It’s a project that takes hours.
Being in the kitchen with my grandmother makes me feel proud. She shares her secret recipes with me so that I can carry on our traditions.