I am a third-generation Puerto Rican, born in New York. I would consider myself a New Yorican if it weren’t for the fact that I moved away when I was 3 years old. Most days I feel proud of my heritage. Other days I feel like an all-American gringo.
My parents divorced when I was very young and a few years later, my mom was remarried to a military man. Next thing you know, we were flying half way across the world to Okinawa, Japan. Uprooted from the prevalent Hispanic culture in Spanish Harlem, New York, I started to lose sight of where I came from.




