My longest kept memory regarding identity has been one fact: my maternal lineage is Puerto Rican. As a kid, the most I knew about Puerto Rico (PR) was that it made me latino. In short, darker skin and wavy/curly black hair.

My world at an early age was mostly white, with a spattering of black. People of color were relegated to certain areas of town, which we only drove through and looked out upon from the safety of our cars. The prevalence of Mexicans in our area wouldn’t really take hold until I was in my late teens.

Continue reading “[PR]ride”