My experience thus far has been characterized by a state of ineffable in-betweenness, the largest contributor to which, in my opinion, is my place as a first generation American. I find myself in the spaces in between without any actual place to belong— always one or the other. Never an even blend of both. Even so, everything in my life has brought me to where I am now, and I can’t help but think that every corner of that indefinible space I live in has shaped my world view so that I might embrace my true calling: literature. More specifically, Latin American literature.
The first time I picked up a Spanish written novel, I fell in love. The words, the ideas, the very essence of the work was a mirror of everything inside I’d never been able to express, and I knew, “this is it”. This was the thing I was meant to do. As a Colombiamericana (as I like to call it), I’ve found a place in the literary to effectively pronounce into existence the very space I’ve always lived: a place where I no longer have to choose. A place where I can be. A place where I belong. My biggest aspiration is to create a space not just for South American biculturality, but for first generation inbetweenness to be seen, heard, recognized, and discussed. Hopefully, with some luck, a lot of hard work, and a good amount of faith, my work might create even a ripple in the ocean of human existence that can give the millions of other in-betweeners a space their own. A home. (p.s. you’re the first to know because it’s the first time I’ve spoken this secret intention into the world. Keep it safe. Help it grow. Send it love.) - 24 minutes ago