Between Two Worlds: A Struggle for Belonging
In 2019, I packed my bags and moved to New York City. It wasn’t just a move—it was a leap toward opportunity, a step into the unknown, and in many ways, a continuation of a story that began generations before me. My ancestors left Cuba in search of something better, something more. They carried their culture, their resilience, and their dreams with them, planting roots in a new soil. When I moved to New York, I told myself I was doing the same thing: chasing opportunity, chasing growth, chasing a life where I could be around people who thought like me, who dreamed like me.
At first, New York felt like everything I needed. The city was alive with energy, diversity, and a sense of possibility that matched my own ambitions. I found myself surrounded by people who shared my values, my ideals, and my vision for the future. For the first time, I felt like I belonged to a community that understood me. But as the years went by, something unexpected happened. I started to feel a growing disconnect from my roots, from the culture that had shaped me.
It wasn’t that I loved my culture any less. The taste of *cafecito* in the morning, the rhythm of salsa music, the warmth of family gatherings—these things still felt like home to me. But the more I immersed myself in my new life, the more I realized how far I had drifted from the world I grew up in. I missed the familiarity, the traditions, the sense of belonging that came with being surrounded by people who shared my history.
So, I went back to Miami to visit. But when I did, I found myself facing a different kind of disconnect. The people who shared my culture, my language, my roots—they didn’t always share my values or my perspective. I felt like a stranger among my own, caught between two worlds: one that embraced the future I was chasing and another that held tightly to the past.
Let me be clear: I love and respect my Miami friends deeply. They are my family, my history, my heart. They’ve been with me through everything, and their love and support mean the world to me. But we see the world differently. The issues I’m passionate about—social justice, immigration, women’s rights, human rights—aren’t just abstract concepts to me. They’re personal. Immigration hits close to home because it’s my family’s story. Women’s rights matter to me because they’re tied to my identity and the future I want to see. Human rights matter because they’re about dignity, equality, and the kind of world I believe we should all be fighting for.
Being back in Miami reminded me of why I left. It wasn’t because I didn’t love my home or the people in it—it was because I needed to be somewhere that aligned more closely with my values and the person I was becoming. In New York, I’m surrounded by people who share my passion for these issues, who understand why I care so deeply. They challenge me, inspire me, and make me feel seen in ways that my Miami friends often don’t. But at the same time, my New York friends don’t fully understand my culture. They don’t know what it’s like to grow up with the weight of an immigrant story, to feel tied to a history that’s both beautiful and complicated.
It’s a strange and lonely feeling, to be torn between two places that both feel like home and yet don’t fully understand me. In New York, I’m reminded of how far I’ve come, but also of what I’ve left behind. Back in Miami, I’m reminded of where I come from, but also of how much I’ve changed. I’m proud of my culture, of my roots, of the sacrifices my family made to give me the opportunities I have today. But I’m also proud of the person I’ve become, of the values I hold, and the life I’m building.
The truth is, I don’t have all the answers. I’m still figuring out how to navigate this space between two worlds, how to honor my past while embracing my future. Some days, it feels like a beautiful balance. Other days, it feels like an impossible divide. But I’ve come to realize that this struggle is part of my story, part of what makes me who I am.
To anyone else who feels caught between two worlds, know that you’re not alone. It’s okay to feel disconnected, to feel torn, to feel like you don’t fully belong in either place. What matters is that you keep moving forward, that you honor where you come from while staying true to who you are.
After all, isn’t that what our ancestors did? They left everything they knew in search of something better, not because they didn’t love where they came from, but because they believed in the possibility of more. In a way, I’m just following in their footsteps—carrying my culture with me as I chase my own dreams, even if it means living in the space between two worlds.
