i’m puerto rican, born & raised, but it’s never the first thing that comes to people’s mind when they look at me. when i’m around my family, it’s almost ridiculously noticeable that i am the odd-man-out. i stand at 5’9, curly hair, broad shoulders, & thick legs. all the other women in my family? they barely break 5’5, slim builds, & straight hair. the difference is obvious because i am the “odd-man-out”
i am the only person in my family, & extended family, that isn’t 100% Puerto Rican. the blood & genetics that flow through my body share the love & embodiment of two islands that are on the other side of the world from each other. i am puerto rican by trade, but the face that looks me back in the reflection is samoan.
my father was big & broad, towering over those around him at 6’5. to compliment his height, he had a monstrous build that i am reminded of everyday when i recognize my body’s genetically-gifted’s strength. my sweet mother is 5’4, she stands on we tippy-toes to reach high shelves in the kitchen. glenda was a natural born runner, she was small & very skinny her entire life, so when we stand next to each other, it’s almost comical to see the apparent difference. i look imminently different from my entire family: mom, brothers, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins…i cannot find a single one of my physical traits within them, but i get my humor from my abuelo, i get me softness from my abuela,
i never really noticed it til i was older. i mean, how am i suppose to acknowledge the other half of my heritage when i was always introduced as “taina, la hija de glenda” — “the daughter of glenda”? as glenda’s daughter, i was raised as purely Puerto Rican—glenda IS 100% Puerto Rican & glenda is a “Rivera”. i grew up eating rice & beans, my first language was spanish, i am named after the indigenous people of Puerto Rico, & the origins of my life were built in a multi generational, loving home in naguabo, puerto rico. there was never any room to be samoan for me, it’s not who i am or who i was raised to be—& im more than okay with that.
but, i would be lying if i said i never struggled with identity crises. i know the truth. i know that my name is taina patosina steffany alosuesuemanogi & my mother’s maiden name, Rivera, could not fit on my birth certificate. i know that i wish i was a Rivera. i know that my first language was spanish, but now i can barely muster a complete conversation in it because i am the only one in my family that isn’t spoken to in spanish anymore. i know that in following my mom’s career, it took me away from Puerto Rico & altered the way i was raised; my friends never spoke spanish, i lived in predominantly white suburbs, my best friends are white, & i went to a high school that was 95% white…i am your modern day example of “white-washed”.
one of my good friends here at west point is from russia. she was raised in russia & when she met me she said that i am “the typical american girl”, the kind of american girl she would “see on tv & imagine they were like”. sometimes im not sure how to take that, but im never insulted by it…just makes me think a little deeper than i should about it. i am Puerto Rican, but dont look it. I look Samoan, but know NOTHING about it. i am called “white-washed” because of the environment i was raised in. & i am a steffany, but all i’ve ever wanted to be was a Rivera.
over time, i realized that identity is up to eye of the beholder. i feel at home under the sun of Puerto Rico & i am most myself when i am tanned & outside under a Puerto Rican sky. i am passionate about being Puerto Rican because the people i love most in this world are; i love it even when sometimes i don’t see any puerto rican parts within me. but in between glimpses of reflection, i see my mother’s nose on my face, & she is puerto rican. i hear the twang & rhythm in my spanish accent, & that is puerto rican. i write my first name down on pieces of paper everyday, & that is puerto rican. i think about the foods i crave, & they are all Puerto Rican. i think kindly of myself because i am puerto rican.
to say i am puerto rican is not to say that i am not samoan. i am genetically samoan, but my life’s blood is puerto rican. on the outside of my wrist, i have my mothers maiden tattooed—“Rivera” in the typewriter font. this is the family last name, the one everyone has but me. i used to shed soft tears because i was the “black sheep” of the family, not a Rivera & i’m the only one who isn’t 100% Puerto Rican. but in between those gentle tears, my mom would lightly wipe my tears & remind me that “i will always be a Rivera” & that’s how i like to see myself as…as a Rivera.
with all my love,
♡steff
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