A Story for the In-Betweens

This is my testimony—a story for anyone who has felt like life is a series of moments and experiences that seem impossible to fully understand or conquer. It’s for the dreamers, the fighters, those who have faced struggles head-on with unshakable hope that somehow, everything will work out.

It’s for the chronically optimistic souls born into hardship, who carry the quiet but fierce belief that there’s more to life than the challenges they’ve endured.

It’s for Latin American kids growing up in the United States, caught between two cultures, not quite fitting into either. The ones who’ve felt the sting of rejection, the weight of invisibility, and the ache of wanting to belong in a world that often feels too big and unwelcoming.

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The Struggle of Cultural Identity
Have you ever looked in the mirror and asked, “Am I really that scary?” when all you feel inside is love, hope, and a longing to be understood? For the kids who were told they weren’t bright enough, smart enough, or good enough to be valued or seen.

For those let down by the adults who should have believed in them but instead left them doubting their worth. This is for the black sheep, the “mistakes,” the cycle breakers—those born into families and systems that couldn’t see their potential, yet somehow found the strength to rise above.

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The Weight of Labels

Don’t call yourself Latina—it’s Latinx now. Growing up, I was told not to call myself Indigenous, because that’s offensive to the “real” Indigenous. But don’t call yourself Spanish either, because you don’t belong to the Spaniards—who even knows anything about them? It’s Hispanic! Wait, am I still allowed to use that one?

So, what am I? My family traces back generations upon generations in Central America, so…what does that make me? What box do I even check on these endless work surveys? native? white? black? non-of the above? It feels like a never-ending black hole of confusion, constantly reminding you, that you’re NOTHING.

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Emotional Baggage and Confusion
It’s exhausting. Just keep quiet, be nice, and be grateful for all the sacrifices everyone made to get you here. UGH—is anyone else tired of it? This is for the kids who just wanted to be themselves in a world that never lets you speak without a scoff thrown in your direction.

We’re born into a world full of confusion and delusion. Sometimes, the man on the street talking to himself isn’t that different from the mean-spirited family member who says whatever she wants and is perpetually at war with you.

And then, as an adult, you realize, wait—why was my grown (insert hater ass family member) having beef with me when I was 11? – does every latin child go through this?

We carry the emotional baggage of adults who haven’t figured out how to deal with their own. We’re told not to cry, not to show any emotion that isn’t sweet, nice, and pleasing—because our existence shouldn’t make anyone uncomfortable. We’re expected to act like adults for the adult children around us, and the cycle continues until someone finally asks, “Are we okay? What’s happening here?”

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Breaking Free from the Fog of Self-Hate
Brown children are told, from the moment they can think, that they are inherently less than because of the color of their skin—not just by society but by our own colorist family members. The cousin with lighter skin gets treated so much better, “porque ella es chelita.” Or the aunt who tells you not to get too tan this summer because you don’t want to look dark in your pretty pink dress at your quinceañera.

It’s amazing if you can escape that fog of ignorance. It took me years of deep inner work to get to a place of self-acceptance, self-love, and self-worth. To finally believe that I matter, that I’m important, and that I’m beautiful.

This world sets you on a path of self-hate. Escaping it, fear-free, with a heart full of love, is a miracle in itself.

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Faith and the Power of Possibility
This is the story of a girl who, by all statistical measures, should have become a teen mom, a high school dropout—living the awful Salvi stereotype. But every step of this journey was made possible by my relentless faith in the divine and my courage to think differently.

I’m not the straight-A, type-A Latina who broke every hurdle through academic achievement. Nope, I’m the opposite—but not the extreme. I’m somewhere in the middle. The invisible Latina girl with undiagnosed ADHD, who was ignored and told she’d never amount to anything.

Yet, through it all, I carried a deep yearning for people to be wrong about me.

So yeah, this is my story. I hope you enjoy the ups and downs of this rollercoaster of a life I’ve had. I’m still very much in it, as I try to navigate a society that still likes to ignore and scoff anytime someone like me opens her mouth. How could anything insightful come from someone like me?

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The Divine and the Journey to Clarity
Somehow, despite all of that, I always found myself at the right place at the right time. Doors opened, and I am in awe that I am even in that room. I walked through experiences others told me were reserved for the “special” kids. But hey, I’ll take the leftovers.

This is the story of a broken girl who believed she could escape the inherited brokenness she was given. A girl who dared to live with clarity, trusting the divine presence that’s been guiding me all along. Every step of the way, I know He’s been with me.

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My Final Thoughts

This is my effort to share my experiences—how the Divine, God, Holy Spirit, or the Universe, whatever you choose to call it, has been with me throughout my entire life. If you’re still navigating the confusion and chaos of life’s in-between spaces, know this: you’re not alone.

I’ll be sharing a series of posts where I overshare about my life. Stay tuned for the next drop of word vomit—I hope it leaves you a little more inspired. Don’t forget to subscribe below to receive email notifications!

Xoxo,
Blanca ❤