Tomé mi primer sorbo de café alrededor de los 5 años de edad. Tal vez incluso antes. Siempre que le digo eso a la gente, normalmente obtengo la misma reacción. Con los ojos bien abiertos, exclaman: “¿Qué ?” Los que lo entienden, lo entienden. En 1992, mi madre emigró de El Salvador a Estados Unidos, […]
My mother migrated to the United States from El Salvador in 1992 in search of a better life after having lived through the civil war. Naturally, as the first-born of three, I am the most connected to my Salvadoran heritage. I’ve traveled three times to the motherland to visit my family, and I know I’m at home when I get a whiff of fresh brewed coffee, a staple in just about every Salvadoran household. With the Los Angeles weather beginning to cool down and the holidays approaching, I am looking forward to dipping my mom’s fresh-baked quesadillas into my warm cup of coffee. They are not to be confused with Mexican quesadillas, which are primarily made with tortilla and queso. Salvadoran quesadillas are essentially cheesecakes with a combination of different flavors such as cinnamon, vanilla, sugar, cream, and (you guessed it) cheese. Sometimes they are topped off with sesame seeds to add a little extra texture.
De niña, yo no tenía idea de a qué raza o etnia pertenecía. Fue así hasta que fui a la escuela, a finales de los 90. Recuerdo que tuve que llenar unos formularios ya en primer grado y que en cierto lugar preguntaba así: “Raza: _____”. Escribí “no” y pensé: “Odio correr”**. Y también recuerdo […]
The truth is that I am indigenous to this continent, but in the United States I cannot claim my indigeneity. My ancestors were the Lenca people and lived in what is now known as El Salvador and Honduras. Even though I am proud to be Latina, the term still begs the question of what race really means. So, what is my race? When I come across that question, I answer in one of two ways; decline to state or other: human.