Growing up Hispanic in a country that saw my people as nothing but invaders created a sense of shame. I did not want to be Mexican. I tried hard to separate myself from my culture and blood by learning how to speak without an accent, reading books so I could prove I was assimilating, and neglecting the beautiful way we move our bodies with our hips and legs, by pushing away the color of life. This created a person who was not me, just a mask of someone I was supposed to be. Through rediscovery and curiosity, I found that what had once brought me shame was actually my liberation. I found that Latino and Hispanic cultures are rich in life and color. This new life of color allowed me to express myself in many ways that differ from traditional American male roles. I found myself creating and trying to understand how the Mexican community could be so close. I became curious about the knowledge that abuelitas pass down, the color in festivals and traditions of those who have died, the love for music, and, even more importantly, their extreme stubbornness and perseverance through the most difficult times.