As a transracial adopteeI was born in Hondurasmy family was all white and I was not.
As a child I felt no real connection to my race, my ethnicity, my background.
Because of myskinand myhair, I was just other.
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In many ways I didnt know where to put myself.
I wouldnt start to understand the answer to this question until I was much older.
The path to understanding all of this started with my hair.
When I was very young, my mom was always rocking a perm.
In the summer, however, no one would tell me that she wasntmyrealmother.
No one would tell me that myrealmom didnt want me.
Our hair connected us and bonded us, even if one did come from a perm.
One teacher told me that my hair was distracting.
People pulled my hair and put gum in it.
Now it wasnt just the people at school who had straight hair but my own mother.
Then I went to Costa Rica.
In Costa Rica no one commented on my hair.
My hair was not a spectacle or topic of ridicule.
I leaned into this newfound acceptance and began to accept myself.
I began to love my hair.
Just like in Costa Rica, my hair wasnt a topic of conversation; it didnt make me different.
My hair was soft, curly, healthy, and vibrant.
I got compliments on it every day.
My hair was growing, and my confidence was too.
People were speaking languages I had never heard before.
I was surrounded by people from all different ethnicities.
It seemed like each person embraced their own dynamic identities in a multitude of ways.
And, of course, one of the first things I noticed was how people wore their hair.
Suddenly I was starting to understand the potential of what my hair could do.
We shared a baseline of mutual understanding as we shared similar lived experiences.
I began to feel comfortable with my full 3B curls that went past my elbows.
I was not part of their shared community or culture.
My Spanish wasnt great.
One day after work I decided to check out a hair-supply store in my neighborhood.
I was immediately excited by all the possibilities, and happier to know that it was a Latinx-run store.
But I still had no idea where to start.
This was the first time I had actually been intentional when buying hair products.
I noticed a Latinx family in the store and decided to stay close to them.
As I pretended to read the labels, I observed the choices the Latinx family was making.
When they left, I bought what they bought.
The choice might have seemed arbitrary, but it felt monumental.
I was buying products specifically for my hair key in, used predominantly by Latinx people.
I never thought I would have to practice being Latinx.
And it all started with observing.
Later that night I typed into YouTube curly hair routine.
I spent hours watching.
I was learning how to be me.
