Embracing my Blackness in Latinidad is probably the most exhausting existence I encounter every day. I know that may lead to the question “but what the hell does that even mean?” Well frankly it means that having all these intersecting identities can be draining. 

I am a Dark Skin Black Woman; I am also of Cuban and Dominican descent. I come from two of the most racially conflicted cultures within Latin America. Growing up in Miami-Dade County, it was a thing of pride to know that you were Cuban. Not because of the beautiful rich culture, but because of the dominance established by Cubans in Miami-Dade. 

I didn’t fully understand that this dominance was established by white Cubans, and that being Afro Cuban meant that I was ‘othered’ or that my ethnic identity was going to be dismissed because white Cubans quickly assumed that there could possibly be no such population in Miami-Dade County.

Dejaron a todos los Negros en Cuba, little did they know… I also didn’t fully understand that my Dominican family had very colorist views, and the jabs that I received was because of these sentiments and it so happened that I was the darkest one on this side of the family. This coming from people that are descendants of one of the greatest revolutions known to man, the Haitian Revolution. 

Growing up in racist Miami and within a colorist family, I didn’t know if I wanted to be like “them”. “Them” being Black people, and Latinos have this uncanny ability to subtly separate themselves from Black folks in the US, even though the racism is very real and much more embedded throughout Latin America.  It took much internal work, but I’ve reached a point where I wouldn’t want to be anything but Black. 

I stand in the sun and watch my skin glow and my soul is illuminated as I see the same coloring worn by most of my ancestors. Dark Skin Black womxn are still treated less than in this world. Representation has replaced tokenism, but our magic is still very real. I hope to see the day that the majority of those of us living in the African Diaspora can feel the magic and the community between us. 

Even though the language that our ancestors spoke was stolen from us, we have the music, the art, the feelings, the power, the creativity, and so much more within the magic that will help us spring forward through this beautiful Earth. This Earth that has been worshiped by the Diaspora for centuries and by Africans for centuries before we were taken is where we are all connected. 

My identity is exhausting, my cultural background is a contradiction and are often at odds with each other, but I believe in the magic and the power of the African Diaspora. Soy una mujer Negra, tengo poder, soy magia.  I am here, and my ancestors are here through me. I am a Dark Skin Black Woman of Cuban and Dominican descent, go ahead and say it “tremenda mezcla!” “What a mix!” I wasn’t fully aware of the power, until I saw it in the eyes of those who found out where my family came from. I’m still not fully aware, but I am understanding. Tengo poder, tengo magia.