From Assimilation to Café de Olla: Finding Pride in My Own Way

Growing up, I thought fitting in was the ultimate goal.

Even though my family always wanted me to know my roots, there was always this quiet, constant pull — that maybe I’d have it easier if I just blended in. If I didn’t speak Spanish so loud. If I didn't bring food that smelled “different.” If I just tried harder to be more like… them. Whoever “they” were.

In kindergarten through second grade, I went to a mostly Black school. I picked up English fast, and that earned me a one-way ticket out of my ESL group and into the “general population.” At first, I thought it was a good thing. But it didn’t take long to realize I didn’t belong anywhere. The kids who had been my peers before now saw me as different — like I thought I was better. I started getting mocked, bullied, and made to feel like I didn’t fit in anywhere. And I didn’t. Not with them. Not even with myself.

From third to seventh grade, I landed in a heavily Latino school. For the first time, I felt like I could breathe. Everyone had a last name like mine. Everyone’s parents spoke Spanglish or had similar stories. I felt seen. But then came eighth grade — and I was dropped into a mostly white and Asian school. Suddenly, I went from being one of the smartest kids in the room to feeling like the dumbest. And deep down, a voice whispered: maybe it's because you're Mexican.

It wasn’t.

But that’s what the system teaches us.

It took me a long time to understand that schools in minority communities often have fewer resources, less funding, and outdated curriculum. It wasn’t about intelligence. It was about access. But as a kid, all I saw was the widening gap between me and the kids who had better everything — laptops, tutors, polished vocabulary, confidence. So I did what a lot of us did. I tried to shrink the parts of me that made me feel “other.”

I didn’t want to bring frijoles for lunch.

I didn’t want to speak Spanish.

I didn’t correct anyone who butchered my name.

And that’s what hurts the most — that I spent so much of my life pushing away the very thing I now hold closest.

It wasn’t until I started Café de Olla — trying to understand the history behind the coffee and why it was so nostalgic — that I realized how much I missed home. How much I missed me. The smell of cinnamon and piloncillo in the morning brought back everything — warmth, safety, culture, pride. And now, through my designs, my content, my small business… I get to express my culture in my way. With Spanglish captions, nostalgic memories, and designs that say “first-gen and proud,” even if I’m still figuring it out.

This journey has taught me that loving your culture doesn’t have to look one specific way. It doesn’t have to be loud or perfect or polished. It just has to be yours.

So if you’re still somewhere in that in-between — trying to reconnect, trying to heal that part of you that wanted to fit in — just know: you’re not alone. And you don’t have to prove your roots to anyone. They’re already inside you. You just have to make space to let them bloom.

Como siempre, con mucho cariño.

Tanya