Once at Yale, I realized that I was missing, or rather subduing, something that was vital to my being: my culture.
The only difference between the aspiring journalist I was when I was ten and the aspiring journalist I am now is my full understanding of what it means to be a Latina.
My parents, who immigrated to the United States from Mexico in the 1980s, never received the opportunity to attend college, so I relied completely on the stories of high school teachers to get a sense of how this college business worked.
I didn't realize how Hispanic I was until I was pulled away from my native environment. I thought the crazy Latin culture was something I wanted to escape, but as it turns out, I love my "spice." I can't let go of it, but rather I've let flourish.