Whether it was the breezy day, the wind pushing around her hair, or the rhythmic tones blaring through the speakers, there was nothing worth ending this feeling. As she sang along to “Ahora Te Puedes Marchar,” by Luis Miguel, there was no space for any imposterous thoughts. This was her time to be with the music, and forget about all the troubles that clouded everyday life. Cumbia, Salsa, Reggaeton, that is all that floated throughout her head. Time went by slowly when the rhythms moved her body. Emotions rushed throughout her; feelings of joy, but several were unwanted, and unknown.

The shuffling of the music was alike to the continuous cultural identity journey of her own. Alongside all the fusion beats, were mixed in Hip-Hop, and Classic Rock rhythms that altered the way her body swayed. The hip bumps, and ‘washing machine’ motions all switched to foot tapping, and head shaking. Both personalities of the playlist brought her entertainment, but only one side brought constant comfort, and security. She would freeze up at hearing the question, “What is your favorite type of music?” While the answer rested on her tongue, ready to be shared aloud, a moment of uncertainty ran across her body. She was a first generation Mexican-American, grateful for the migration of her grandparents, grateful for their bravery, grateful for it all. And yet, she wore her heritage for all to see, but would be left alone in her mind, facing the same question, the hardest of them all to be answered.

Her mind was always running a marathon, never stopping for water, or a break to catch its breath. It simply ran on a loop, back and forth, back and forth. From Van Morrison to Banda Zeta, Cumbia to R&B, hip shaking to head banging, it never stopped switching. Growing up, her parents introduced her to various genres of music, and now, she listens to them all. However, the question still remained unanswered, spinning around in her mind. She never understood why she had to choose just one. The question sprang around in her head, running side to side, side to side. She knew she needed to come up with an answer that would appease everyone, but it likely would not include herself.

The struggle she faced with answering the question was a clear mirroring of her constant battle with who she was. The journey to discover her identity: a neverending, everyday mystery. Deep down, she knew her inability to answer the question was never related to her love for all music, but rather having to choose her identity. Music was her way to distract herself from the bicultural tension she faced in her community. Never being “Mexican enough” to be authentic, or “American enough” to blend in. Windows rolled up, volume minimized, and Selena Quintanilla switched to Ariana Grande was her way of showing up as an American. Blending in was the most comfortable route, and the one she relied on. Yet, this only left her being dishonest with who she is, with her family, and with her culture. She wanted to be able to coexist between the two worlds, no need to choose a side, or having to make alterations.

This girl is me. I have always struggled with my cultural identity, and being a true “American.” Music was my way of sharing out who I am, and what I represent, but now I realize it was a bandaid covering a wound. It was my safety net, a distraction from the actual struggles I faced. While I wish I could say that I know exactly who I am, I do not, and I am okay with it. Every day I live my life like a playlist on shuffle, never wanting to pick one genre, one story. Nowadays, I keep the windows down, and volume up as Juanes and Gloria Estefan play. My identity is not a one word answer, similar to my favorite music genre, because some days I need a little Cumbia, or Hip-Hop, but together, they are even better.

© Sofia. All rights reserved. If you are interested in quoting this story, contact the national team and we can put you in touch with the author’s teacher.