I grew up in New York City, between Staten Island, Manhattan, and the Bronx. I am the daughter of two Dominican immigrant parents of the 1.5 generation – people who immigrated as children. My mother immigrated to the United States at age ten; my father, at 14. My parents met when they were 14 and my mother says she practically taught him English. They spoke to each other in both English and Spanish, but gradually became mostly English with plenty of Spanglish.

If there were awards for ability to speak Spanglish, my mother would win them all. Her switch between languages is so fluid and quick, it would give you whiplash if you weren’t used to it. It’s very impressive.

I grew up in a Dominican house. We ate plátano y queso frito con morir sonañdo, rice was part of every meal (including spaghetti), I dipped my tostones in egg yolk. My mother cooked to Pandora playlists like “Jose Jose Radio”, “Luis Fonsi Radio” and “Sin Bandera Radio”. My dad preferred to listen to baseball games from the radio than to watch them on the TV. I’ve never had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in my life and I plan on keeping it that way.

I grew up in an American house. We spoke English. My parents spoke Spanish to each other, but not so much with us. I watched Disney Channel and Nickelodeon, my sister and I took swimming lessons, my dad and I played basketball in the park. We got Boston Market as a treat and went to Olive Garden for special occasions. Unlike my Dominican classmates, I did not go to the DR every summer. I did not go for the first time until I was 24. My mother’s fear of flying (among other things) made it not even a topic of discussion; I just accepted that I would just have to go as an adult.

I grew up in a Seventh-Day Adventist house. A lot of things that were culturally Dominican were prohibited by the religion: I was not allowed to eat pork or shellfish, could not wear jewelry or paint my nails, and I could not dance, not even merengue. I did not grow up eating pernil at Christmas, and I took a class to learn how to dance salsa as an adult. Salsa is still not my strong suit (pero bachateame!) However, I went to a Latino church, which is what I believe gave me the base for my Spanish, along with my mother’s influence.

There are so many factors that make up my family’s specific culture that it’s hard to put a label on anything. Culturally, I feel Dominican-American: a little bit of both. But If you asked me “what I am”, my answer would be “I’m Dominican”. If you asked me in Spanish, my answer would be “Mis padres son dominicanos, pero yo naci en Nueva York/My parents are Dominican but I was born in New York”. Yeah, it’s a little complicated.

To be continued… Here’s Part 2!