Growing up in Miami’s Little Havana, I learned to interpret the world through food, music, and, yes, the dramatic flair of telenovelas. My abuela would throw a sandal if someone interrupted her while watching La Usurpadora. But what those over-the-top storylines taught me—besides the importance of excellent lighting during an argument—is that we all carry beliefs that subtly (or not-so-subtly, in my family’s case) shape how we show up in the world.

Whether it’s in love, work, or our relationships with ourselves, our core beliefs are like the unshakable foundation of a well-built domino tower—a game my family refuses to let me play because, allegedly, my strategy is “too chaotic.” As a writer unpacking the big themes of love and connection, I carry my own set of values that guide my writing. And while I promise you this article won’t end with a slow pan to my face while someone gasps dramatically, I’ll break down exactly what I stand for and why it matters the next time you’re figuring out what you stand for too.

Authenticity: The Flan Isn’t Always Perfect, and Neither Are We

In my childhood kitchen, there was a saying: “Si no sale bien, échale dulce de leche.” Translation: If the flan collapses, cover it with caramel sauce and move on. That mindset—accepting that life and people aren’t perfect—is something I’ve carried into my relationships. Whether it’s romantic, platonic, or familial, I truly believe we create meaning in relationships by owning our flaws and inviting others to do the same.

Let’s be real. The pressure to present a filtered, perfect version of ourselves is exhausting. I’ve written hundreds of articles about connection, but none of that matters if we don’t feel like we’re seen for who we actually are, collapsed custard and all. That’s why I strive to write in a way that feels honest and unfiltered. My goal? To remind you that you’re enough. Yes, even if your playlist is 90% Bad Bunny breakup hits and you can only cook one meal (rice and beans don’t count—they’re personality traits).

Actionable takeaway: Dare to let people see your metaphorical uneven flan. Vulnerability is magnetic. The next time you’re tempted to downplay your quirks or put on a mask to impress someone, ask yourself, “Am I showing who I am, or who I think they want me to be?” And if you’re dating, maybe lean into that weird obsession with true crime podcasts. Someone out there will love your spooky charm.

Empathy: Abuela’s Coffee Table and the Art of Listening

If you ever visited my abuela’s house, you’d probably get stuck at her coffee table while she told you her entire life story—whether you asked for it or not. This sacred spot was where I learned how to shut up and listen. I mean really listen. If there’s one thing my abuela taught me, it’s that making someone feel heard is the most underrated and powerful form of connection.

In a world obsessed with having the perfect comeback text, we’ve lost the art of giving people space to talk about their feelings. Whether you’re navigating a breakup or figuring out if you’re ready for commitment, the ability to hear someone out without crafting your next reply in your head is a superpower.

Practical tip: Start small. The next time you’re in a heart-to-heart—whether it’s with your partner or your best friend—play a little game. For one conversation, focus purely on listening without interrupting or offering advice unless they ask for it. Yes, it’s hard. And yes, it’s worth it. Bonus points if you imagine yourself at my abuela’s coffee table, eating pastelitos with a side of unsolicited pep talks.

Resilience: The Croqueta Crumble Rule of Life

Humor me for a second, because I’m about to get deep over a fried snack. If you’ve ever had a Miami-style croqueta, you know there’s an unspoken rule: accept the crumble. Life’s messiest moments often mirror the experience of biting into one—things will fall apart, but it doesn’t mean the rest of it isn’t delicious.

Breakups? Losing touch with someone you thought would always be there? We’ve all been there. When my first college boyfriend broke up with me via text (truly groundbreaking cowardice in 2014), I thought I’d never recover. But then, like magic, I survived. I leaned into friendships, cried to Quién Es Ese Hombre from Pasión de Gavilanes on loop, and ate my weight in pastelitos. (Sugar and reggaetón cure heartbreak. It’s practically science.)

Life keeps moving, and resilience means learning to move with it. My belief in the croqueta crumble rule keeps me grounded—and yes, sometimes sassy—when life gets chaotic. It’s also a reminder that nothing, not even a shattered heart, stays broken forever.

Pro tip for anyone in the middle of a messy phase: Let yourself crumble, but keep showing up. Have your morning cry, then text your best friend to grab coffee, even if you’re tired of explaining why you’re still sad. Recovery is rarely pretty, but it’s always worth it.

Joy: Dancing Through the Hard Stuff

As a hopeless romantic raised on Marc Anthony ballads and dance floors that doubled as therapy, I believe joy is sacred. In relationships, in writing, in life—joy is what keeps us coming back even when things feel impossibly hard. But let’s not confuse joy with perfection. Life won’t always look like a Nicholas Sparks movie, where everything is damp with Florida rain and the kisses are in slow motion. Joy is quieter, like dancing in your kitchen to Celia Cruz because someone made you laugh so hard your shoulders shook.

When it comes to my work, joy shows up in celebrating every tiny victory. Maybe someone mastered the art of apologizing. Maybe they felt safe enough to open up about their biggest fears. Maybe they decided to start over and follow love across state lines. Whatever it is, those wins matter, and joy deserves center stage with the confetti cannons.

Relatable reality check: Joy isn’t always easy. Sometimes it's choosing to laugh at yourself when your date trips over their dog’s leash instead of spiraling into embarrassment. Sometimes it’s giving yourself grace after a fight by remembering you’re human. Look for those small moments—they’re wildly underrated.

Cultural Identity: Bringing Salsa to the Conversation

You can’t grow up in Little Havana without learning that who you are and where you come from is a permanent +1 to every ballroom, metaphorical or otherwise. My Cuban roots gave me the rhythm for salsa, the patience for dominoes, and, most of all, the deep belief that tradition and culture shape how we connect.

In relationships, it’s critical to celebrate and respect our identities while staying open to learning about others’ experiences too. My dating history? Let’s just say it’s been full of moments where I’ve had to explain why we celebrate Nochebuena like it’s the Met Gala. Early on, I’d sometimes downplay those traditions to fit in, but I quickly realized that hiding parts of myself only made me lonelier.

My advice to anyone navigating love and identity: teach people your rhythm. Whether it’s bringing them to your Tío’s BBQ or explaining why you refuse to wash your cast-iron skillet with soap (#generationalknowledge), let your culture play a starring role in how you connect. And hey, if they’re not willing to try a guayaba pastelito, consider it your first red flag.

Conclusion: Your Beliefs, Your Foundation

So, what do I stand for? Flawed but fearless authenticity. Relentless empathy. Resilience, with room to crumble. Joy, even in the chaos. A salsa-fueled celebration of identity. I pour these beliefs into every article, conversation, and toast (of the bread variety) I share with others, hoping they echo somewhere in your own journey.

Whatever your personal philosophy, remember this: You don’t need to have it all figured out. Beliefs evolve as we do. Start with what feels true, add a little caramel sauce for the messy bits, and keep building from there. And if all else fails, cue up some Celia Cruz. Life, much like love, is always a bit better with a beat.