All of these things make me feel less than Mexican. Yes, my hair is dark, thick, and coarse, and my skin turns a shade of olive in deep summer months, but my own Mexican ethnicity sometimes escapes me. But I’ve also seen that very part of my ethnicity weaponized to make me feel less than equal when I never felt all that Mexican in the first place. Within the last year, I’ve witnessed an agitated white America, fearful of its own dissipating whiteness, lash out any notion of racial or cultural otherness. I’ve also watched an evil cancer, undaunted by my mom’s grace and strength, try to take a mother, grandmother, and wife from her family. Now, more than ever, I realized the importance of preserving your cultural traditions, as their presence in your life is not always guaranteed.