As a third generation Cuban-American, it can be hard to connect with your roots, or raíces as I remember my grandmother teaching me. Being Cuban-American today is a strange conundrum. Despite its proximity to the United States, I am still living the real impacts of the Cuban Diaspora, holding on to recipes, words, and culture passed on from my grandmother to my mom.
After moving to Boston to attend the CSTM, I wanted to connect again with my cultural roots in a new place. In an attempt to immerse myself in the local community and brush up on my Spanish skills, I found a local conversation group at the Cooper Center for Active Living. There I met Milagros, a Puertorriqueña, who shares my great grandmother’s name. This coincidence felt like a form of God’s revelation to me, and I wanted to know more about her. Milagros is jubilada, or as I would learn through the context of the group, retired. Like most of the class, she spends her retirement in multiple daily classes at the Cooper Center. They learn languages, paint, and even do chair yoga.
Milagros made me feel especially connected to my roots. When introducing herself, Milagros said she had come early on the guagua, or bus. Legend has the world originating from the first US Company (Wa & Wa Co. Inc ) to import buses to the island. This word’s sense of familiarity filled my soul like a warm stew on a fall day. The structure of the class was simple, each person got about 3 minutes to speak about their past week’s experiences. Some talked about current events, family, and upcoming events in the area.
Eventually, Milagros started to describe these huge elephants walking downtown. Everyone was quite confused, either by her unique caribbean accent, or by the imagery of giant elephants wandering in an urban setting. We slowly began to realize Milagros was talking about a public art installation in Downtown Back Bay. She described life-sized elephants made of roots lumbering down Commonwealth Ave. a part of me knew I just had to see these elephants!
Inspired by a connection to community and my roots, I, alongside other CSTM students, visited the elephants in the pouring rain after mass at St. Cecilia’s Parish. This group of students organizes ourselves in a group chat called “The Herd” (after the elephant visit). We go to mass every weekend together, taking the Green Line from Boston College to Back Bay.
After standing in the rain for at least an hour, the afternoon was upon us, and we started to return home for warm meals. Satisfaction washed over me during the train ride. I knew that although I was an 8 hour drive from my immediate family, this too could be community.
I come from a smaller family, partly due to the diaspora. However, in reality it feels so much bigger due to my constructed family, what my mom would call my village. In my Spiritual Formation Class at the CSTM, I had the opportunity to reflect on my village’s influence on me through literally mapping my spiritual journey in ink. I now have a greater appreciation for all those who have crossed my path and become my family. These people have led me here to theology school, and continue to sustain me in my studies. This includes “The Herd” as well as all of the CSTM friends I have made during my short time here. What I came to realize is that although my roots may feel distant, all it takes is a village to rediscover them.