Hispanic Heritage Month is a month-long celebration of 21 incredibly diverse Spanish-speaking countries, including Spain and territories of Latin America.
By honoring the past and inspiring our futures, Hispanic Heritage Month dedicates itself to celebrating and acknowledging a world of culture and history that deserves to be told.
Ari Contreras
Ever since I moved to the United States, I’ve found Hispanic Heritage month as an opportunity to celebrate the traditions that enrich our different cultures.
As a Salvadorean, I grew up proudly singing el “Himno Nacional” and stating “La Oración a la Bandera Salvadoreña.” These were a few of the customs I repeated every Independence Day.
In school, I was taught being proud of one’s culture meant dressing up in folkloric dresses and eating lots of traditional food. As I’ve come of age, however, I’ve realized exhibiting pride goes far beyond performative acts because yes, I love dressing up in my flag’s colors, but that’s not all I love about my country.
Growing up, I always felt this pressure of wanting to “make it.” The U.S. was branded as this paradise where all my dreams would come true. Because of this, I began to idolize leaving my homeland.
Living in the U.S. has given me a newfound appreciation for El Salvador. I found this paradox incredibly interesting, but I guess distance did make my heart grow fonder.
Whether I reminisce over the smells or the beautiful sights, the feeling of familiarity lingers within me.
Having lived in Kentucky for four years now, I’ve come to think of it as my second home. My experiences here are mostly with kind-hearted and gentle-minded individuals who have made me feel like a part of my puzzle wasn’t missing.
But in truth, no matter where I am in life, my culture will follow me everywhere. It’s undeniably ingrained in the way I carry myself and the way I hold conversations.
I’ve adopted the mannerisms of the sweet market ladies I always observed as a kid. I often find myself wanting to include others because the laughter in my household was always better when more people showed up to family events.
To me, this month is all about recognizing the effort my parents made for me to speak English fluently, receive an education, and pursue a career that I genuinely enjoy. But most of all, it’s about acknowledging the community that has always had my back no matter what.
Hispanic Heritage month is not about speaking Spanish proficiently or what country has the best food. It’s a chance to commemorate the efforts that individuals within our culture have made for us.
It’s about celebrating the hard-working and passionate spirit that lives within us, because those that have come before us have made an example by giving it their all day after day.
I’m talking about that uncle who gets up at dawn to work at a coffee field or the cousin who is learning how to hem skirts for the neighborhood girls.
We are innovative. We are diligent. That’s what unites us. Our drive and strength, our courage and constant fight against adversity. We are a community. One that is worth celebrating, whose traditions are equally as important as anyone else’s.
Sylvia Freire
Having pride in my heritage is a privilege I hold onto as I grow up in a world that I feel less connected with.
Both of my parents immigrated from Cuba in the early 2000s and I learned quickly to be proud of what they raised me to believe and understand.
The story of two immigrants, with nothing but $20 in their pockets and a suitcase, coming to this country is left in my blood. Their sacrifice and stories from back home continue to mold the person I am.
I find pride in sharing this story, not just from the immigrant’s perspective, but knowing that my Cuban identity comes with it.
Although I was born here, I take pride in being Latina, having my first language be Spanish and knowing the sacrifices my parents made to make all the opportunities I have possible.
At times, I feel separated from my own identity and my family, as a majority of them remain in Cuba, with our only form of communication being WhatsApp.
Watching my mother on the phone with a single bar of Wi-Fi, holding onto her conversations, tells me stories like no other. The laughing and loud music through the phone tells me more than I could ever dream of.
To most, this isn’t ideal, but my reality is still cherished through it all.
Even then, being in college has separated me from a lot of the cultural ties I once had to organizations I was a part of or family functions I would normally attend.
Part of me still connects to the “Americana” my grandmother would call me on the phone when she would see me, but knowing that my nicknames still carry on hold a legacy, a name.
Even in a city like Lexington, that’s predominantly non-Hispanic, I still find ways to find a part of my culture in day-to-day life. Whether it’s the food I eat, the music I listen to or the 20-minute audio messages from my father most days.
Being Cuban is a part of me that will not go away, regardless of what I do or define myself as.
My name, “Sylvia,” sounds predominantly American, but its root tells my heritage’s story alone. My grandmother, “Silvina,” lives through me with every breath that comes from every syllable said out loud.
Being Hispanic is more than just a label; but it is a message. A message built on strength and culture, regardless of where you are or who you become.
Even with my own struggles of understanding inner battles with my identity, I will never deny one part being my Latinidad. Without it, I wouldn’t be who I am and I wouldn’t be where I am and that is enough to be worth celebrating for.
