At family gatherings, my dad’s three brothers and one sister would speak Spanish almost exclusively with my grandparents, whom I had always referred to as my Abuelo and Abuela. We ate empanadas and drank yerba maté with gourds and bombillas. However, I somehow never thought I had Latina blood running through my veins.

The first time I bothered to ask my dad where he was born was when I was filling out my college applications. Yeah, I genuinely did not know where my parents were born until then. I suppose it never actually came up, or I just never asked. The moment I asked where my dad was born was the same moment that I learned about my heritage.

My dad was born in Rosario, the second largest city in Argentina. His father was also born there, and his mother was born on a farm near a small city called Ramirez within the state of Entre Rios. I learned about the birthplaces of my grandparents this past month. Before then, I had lived more than eighteen years unaware of the fact that I was Latina.

Ever since I found out I’ve invalidated myself constantly, questioning whether or not I was allowed to even call myself Latina. I am as white as a toilet so I clearly don’t look the part, and my dad never spoke Spanish around us, so my brother and I didn’t learn how to speak it at a young age.

Because I didn’t know about my ethnic background until this past year, I feel like a fraud.

Now that I know about my ethnicity, I'm doing everything in my power to embrace it and learn about the culture. I'm still eating empanadas and drinking yerba maté, but it's become a dream of mine to see the place where my family members were born and raised, and I want to continue learning about my family's history and culture. However, the fact still remains that I will never feel as if I'm truly a part of the culture. But that doesn't change the fact that I'm proud of my family's background, and I want to continue to immerse myself in it.