You are Latina enough

Nati Feliciano-Soto, Contributing Writer 

“You’re not Latina enough” is what brown faces in the United States tell other brown faces.

If you don’t know the Spanish language, you are not Latina enough. If you don’t have caterpillar eyebrows or luscious long, dark hair, you are not Latina enough. If you don’t dance salsa, speak with an accent or listen to reggaeton, you are not Latina enough. 

If there was a checklist for how many point reductions you get for being “not Latina enough,” the “Latina police” would scream in fear and throw me back to the countryside of Prince George County where I came from. 

Since Hispanic Heritage Month has come to an end, I want to be the first to remind you that you are Latina enough!

Your Latinidad — which is a term that describes the characteristics of Latin American people and their ancestors — can be celebrated through your individual culture, music, film and hobbies. 

Engaging with Latinx traditions — like supporting Latinx-owned businesses, reading Latina-authored literature, celebrating Día de los Muertos, Noche Buena, visiting Latin American countries or supporting Latina voices on media platforms — can all deepen your connection to your heritage and enhance your cultural experience.

Your cultural identity is a unique gift that many people try to undermine, especially for Latinas in the U.S. who are often made to feel they don’t fully belong to either the American or Latinx communities.

In a diverse country like the U.S., it’s natural to connect with different cultures around you, but this can lead to pressure to fit into a narrow idea of what it means to be Latina. However, when you tune out those outside pressures and fully embrace your own identity — as it is, with its mix of influences — it can be an empowering and rewarding experience.

Latina icons in our media like Selena Quintanilla, Becky G and Jenna Ortega are living testimonies to this. All of these women are known for representing our community and sharing the Latinx experience with the American media.

Yet when it comes down to their origins, you begin to understand they too are the original “no sabo” kids — a derogatory term used as a backhanded comment to insult one’s identity over circumstances they could not control. Since we are more “Americanized” and listen to Taylor Swift rather than old-school salsa or cumbia at times, the term is weaponized against us and those who struggle with their cultural language and often mix English and Spanish — also known as Spanglish. 

Growing up, I experienced this firsthand, being bullied into learning Spanish to fit an expectation of what it means to be Latina. This label forces many to either constantly justify themselves or, worse, give in to stereotypes just to protect their identity in an American society that questions their cultural authenticity.

A similar experience can be observed by many first-generation Latinas whose parents came to the United States from their respective Latin countries to give their children the American dream. The same children who have perfected their English and translated papers for their parents are put in ESL, or English as a Second Language, programs during public schooling. Those types of programs are meant to enhance your English linguistics, not hinder them and act as a microaggression. 

These first generations, who fulfill many roles for the greater good of generations before and after them, are seen by American media, culture and society as Latinx. Yet somehow people within our own community are quick to question the authenticity of their experience and their ancestral origins. 

My Latinidad, especially my Puerto Rican heritage, has been questioned a lot. 

I am a Virginia native, born and raised in Prince George County. I lived in a small town called Disputanta next to a farm and railroad track. 

My parents simply wanted a better life for me and my siblings, yet whenever my Latinidad is questioned this is the answer I will always give: 

“I am a third-generation Puerto Rican-American. My grandparents on both sides were born and raised in Puerto Rico and they made sure our culture was deeply instilled in us despite not living on the island.” 

My dad was raised in Puerto Rico, my brother was born there and my mom’s family was born and raised in Waterbury, Connecticut — an immigrant city that has one of the largest presences of Puerto Ricans in the state of Connecticut.

I grew up hearing my mom and her siblings speak Spanish while playing dominoes at the wooden table with a huge Puerto Rican flag plastered on it. 

Even back home in Virginia, we’d watch WAPA-TV and listen to Spanish music. My dad would often speak Spanish when he couldn’t express himself in English, and my grandma only speaks to us in Spanish. 

As natives of the island, my grandparents spoke very little English, yet they passed down their culture and language to my mother and her siblings with the hope of it reaching us too. 

While only a few of us, including myself, learned Spanish, the culture was still deeply ingrained in all of my cousins. This is the reality for many — especially Latinas — in the United States. 

Sometimes, our parents choose not to teach us the language but focus on the pride and respect for our heritage — our Latinidad.

So, who are you to question where my Latinidad lies? 

Just because someone was born in a different geographical location does not take away their Latinidad. Rather, it cultivates it to fit a unique experience of being Latinx. 

I’m a country-raised “no sabo” kid turned fluent speaker, caterpillar brow, light-skinned, reggaeton-loving Latina. 

I had arroz con gandules every night for dinner, practiced Puerto Rican cultural traditions and also experienced all of the racism from American society.

I believe all racial groups can relate to their heritage being questioned at some point in their lives. I am here to give you the confirmation that you are enough. 

We all come in different shapes and sizes, from different generations, backgrounds and lived experiences. Speaking from my unique experience, my Latinidad has never been performative no matter where I went. It is the definition of my heritage, culture and shared history that went beyond my appearance and linguistic fluency. 

¡Soy Boricua para tu sepa!