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Someone gets it...

"The daughter claimed she'd been taught that a writer needs quiet, privacy, and long stretches of solitude to think. The father decided too much college and too many gringo friends had ruined her. In a way he was right. In a way she was right. When she thinks to herself in her father's language, she knows sons and daughters don't leave their parents' house until they marry. When she thinks in English, she knows she should've been on her own since eighteen."


-The House on Mango Street
 Sandra Cisneros


I am so excited to re-read this book.


I think back to the first time I read it. I was assigned to read it for my middle school Spanish class. Since I was a native Spanish-speaker, I was given "harder" assignments than my classmates, which included reading this book in Spanish.


What young teenage me didn't know at the time was how much I would grow in between that first time I was made to read it and now when I oh so long to read it. I long to read books that understand me.  Books that help me to find more of me. Books that were made by people like me. People struggling to find out who they are. People creating from the depths of their identity, their family, their history, their desires and fears, their questions.


And maybe I'll never find a perfect book, for I don't think there is a perfect author, especially when it comes to a topic so deep as our identity. But I know that there have to be good books, great books, that I can resonate with. I believe Cisnero's book will be one of those books.


Finding my identity will be a long-life journey. I know it. And I'm sure it was for authors like Sandra, Junot, Pablo, Gabriel... I'm excited to learn more about their journeys, read their books, witness their art, and learn more about myself in the process.

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