Roots Run Deep: Why I Stand for Authentic Connections
Imagine this: My grandparents sitting in wicker chairs on the front porch of our Miami home, debating loudly in Spanish about whether my abuela’s black beans really needed all that cumin. Meanwhile, inside, my mom was on the phone with a relative back in Havana, getting news that was equal parts heartwarming and heartbreaking. Growing up in my house, relationships weren’t just central—they were the only thing. Sure, they were messy, emotional, and sometimes way too loud (try sharing your homework space with a family watching telenovelas), but they were also the glue that held everything together.
That’s the lens through which I write about love, dating, and relationships. Connection isn’t just a swipe, a spark, or a meet-cute—it’s the ongoing effort to understand and be understood. It’s also why I firmly believe that building relationships—whether they’re romantic, platonic, or somewhere in-between—isn’t about being perfect. It’s about being real.
Let me break it down for you.
Authenticity over Perfection (Sorry, Rom-Coms)
We all want to be the star of our own rom-com, don’t we? I know I did. As a lanky Cuban kid in Miami with an appetite for nachos and an unshakable belief that I could learn to moonwalk, I daydreamed of a “When Harry Met Sally” moment of my own. Spoiler alert: real life doesn’t work that way. Cuban family dinners will humble you fast, especially when your Aunt Clara slides your baby photos (complete with velcro shoes) across the table to someone you maybe like.
And that’s the thing—authenticity starts when we let go of the fantasy that we need to be polished all the time. Relationships aren’t about hiding your quirks; they’re about finding someone who celebrates them. Your Spanglish karaoke skills. Your tendency to cry during Pixar movies. Your secret stash of 3 a.m. Taco Bell receipts.
Life is messy, and the people worth staying for are the ones who don’t grab their coat during those messy moments.
Embrace the “Miami House Rules”
Growing up, there were certain understandings in my house we referred to as "Miami House Rules." For example:
- Food is love language number one. (If someone saves the crispy edges of the ropa vieja for you? That’s amore.)
- Talk it out, even when it’s not pretty. Silence wasn’t golden in my childhood home; it was suspicious. If the room got quiet, you could bet someone was gearing up for a heartfelt speech or argument—to this day, I swear that’s why I prefer upfront communication.
- Know your worth. My abuela always said, "No te conformes." Don’t settle. That mantra stuck with me, through awkward teenage crushes and heartbreaks that played out like an Aventura album.
If I could package these rules and gift them to every dater out there, I would. Build relationships like you’d simmer a pot of black beans—with time, care, and trust that the flavors will harmonize. And when someone offers you their equivalent of a crispy ropa vieja edge, savor it. Those small acts matter.
Love Is Built, Not Just Felt
Here’s a truth that Hollywood (and weirdly, every Latin trap music video) tends to skip over: love isn’t just a feeling; it’s work. My parents were immigrants juggling two jobs, a language barrier, and a kid whose career aspirations alternated between astronaut and DJ. But through all of that, their partnership thrived because they showed up for each other. Salsa dancing in the living room on Friday nights after payday. Negotiating laundry folding duties like seasoned diplomats. Cheering (or lovingly roasting) each other over domino marathons.
Love is in those micro-moments, y’all. It’s in learning what brings your partner joy—and doing it just because. It’s in choosing growth over grudges. Think about your most cherished friendships. Did they thrive because you always agreed? No. They grew because you invested, forgave, and stayed curious about each other. Romantic relationships are no different.
Lessons from a Chicago Winter
When I moved to Chicago for a writing fellowship, I thought I was ready for the cold—not just the frostbite kind, but the emotional coolness of being far from my family. What I quickly realized is that distance isn’t the death of love; disconnection is. My loved ones couldn’t be there to walk me through my first real Midwestern snowstorm, but they sent warming reminders in their own ways. A phone call from my mom telling me to layer up ("Mijo, you don’t know what real cold is"). A surprise package from my sister, stuffed with cafecito, guava pastries, and baby photos meant to embarrass me (classic Clara).
It was a reminder that staying connected isn’t about proximity—it’s about showing up for the people who matter, in the ways that matter. That’s a lesson I carry into dating, too. If someone values you, you’ll feel it. And if you value someone, don’t wait for a grand romantic opportunity—show them now.
Practical Advice from a Former Chaos King
I’ll admit it: I wasn’t always relationship-savvy. In my early twenties, I thought deep connections happened by accident—like ordering extra fries and getting an extra nugget in the bag. Spoiler: they don’t. But here’s a cheat sheet I wish I had back then:
- Communicate like your abuela’s recipe card: Clear, intentional, and spicy when necessary. Details matter. (“I’m upset” isn’t the same as “I felt overlooked when you forgot our anniversary.”)
- Celebrate friends and family in your relationships. If someone has no interest in the community of people who make your life rich, that’s a red flag.
- Don’t confuse mystery with emotional unavailability. A little mystery is intriguing—like the secret behind your grandpa’s arroz con pollo being so dang good. Emotional unavailability, though? Nothing appealing about it.
Closing the Loop: Be Present, Be Real, Be You
At its core, my belief in authenticity comes from one simple truth: when you let yourself show up as you are, you create space for others to do the same. Whether that’s a partner, friend, or the cousin you only see at Nochebuena, connections thrive when they’re built on honesty.
If you take one thing away from this—other than a craving for homemade Cuban food—it’s this: love, like everything worth keeping, takes work. It’s not glamorous. Sometimes it’s awkward, frustrating, or intercepted by a call from your mom with unsolicited dating advice (bless her heart). But, trust me, it’s worth it.
So go forth. Love boldly. And if they laugh at your Spanglish karaoke? They’re probably worth keeping around anyway.
