The Kitchen Table Revolution
If my family’s kitchen table could talk, it would spill more tea than any telenovela. This wasn’t just a piece of furniture in our East End Houston home—it was the epicenter of Santo family life. Every scratch and wobble on its worn-out surface told a story, and if TikTok trends had existed back then, this table could’ve gone viral for the sheer drama and vibrant storytelling it witnessed.
Here’s the thing about growing up in a Cuban-Mexican household: life happened loudly and all at once. The kitchen, with its constant aroma of espresso, arroz con frijoles, and flour tortillas, was the beating heart of our existence. This was where everything unfolded. My parents debated politics like seasoned pros while my abuela (Cuban side) sassed them in the same breath. My cousins and I giggled over crushes and made-up quinceañera dance routines while chaos swirled around us. And those tales always wrapped up with someone hitting us with an unsolicited life lesson.
The lessons I learned around that little table might not show up in a TED Talk, but they follow me everywhere—even as I navigate the raw, complex terrain of modern relationships.
Lesson One: It's Not a Real Discussion Until Someone Feels Everything
In my family, indifference was forbidden. The kitchen table didn’t breed aloofness; it demanded passion. Are you really in love if you can talk about your partner without your eyes lighting up just a little? Are you even trying to solve an argument if you’re not using hands to assist your points, like an artist furiously painting emotions into the air?
I bring this unapologetic intensity into all my relationships. Passion is the core ingredient, not the garnish. My partner and I once got into a heated “debate” over pineapple on pizza (it belongs there for me; I will die on this sweet-and-savory hill). The look on his face resembled the time my mom and abuela argued for two hours about whether Walkmans were superior to boomboxes. We laughed like maniacs when we both realized we were fake-mad over literal pizza—it bonded us.
Takeaway: Relish the big feelings. Relationships—romantic, family, or friendship—should set your soul alight every now and then. But don’t stop at feelings. Find humor in your disagreements and actively lean into playful banter.
Lesson Two: Food Is Love but Also Power
My abuela didn’t just cook; she enchanted. How she turned a pile of plantains into caramelized chunks of heaven, I’ll never know. That woman had two main phrases in life: “Te llenaste?” and “Ven acá, muchacha, let me tell you what you’re doing wrong.”
Food was her way of nurturing, but it was also her way of asserting dominance. She could whip up tamales or picadillo for 14 people in under 30 minutes, and it was always implied: “You’ll never be better at this than me.” Challenge accepted, abuela.
Turns out, this wasn’t just about food—it was about relationships. A date once told me I was putting “too much effort” into hosting when I spent hours making ropa vieja for him. That’s the night I learned this guy wasn’t spicier than a grocery store rotisserie chicken.
Food matters because it brings us together (or, in that case, reminds us who shouldn’t be enjoying our hard-won energy). Being seen and respected in your effort to share yourself—that’s love in its tastiest form.
Takeaway: Cook with your heart. Whether it’s an elaborate dinner or a shared $1 taco, make food a shared language. If someone shames or downplays your effort, believe me—they shouldn’t get an encore meal.
Lesson Three: Communication Ain’t Cursive—Make It Clear!
If there’s one thing you don’t do at a Cuban-Mexican kitchen table, it’s mumble. You couldn’t mumble if you tried because someone would call you out within seconds, saying, “Speak clearly! What’s that mumbling nonsense?” There was no such thing as passive communication in my house. If you had something to say, say it with your full chest. Otherwise, everyone was left guessing, and no one liked playing that game.
Seems obvious, right? But you’d be surprised how many people love to bottle their feelings like it’s vintage wine. I’ve been there too—unsure whether to tell someone I liked them, worried I’d come off too strong, or afraid to admit when I was hurt. That’s a recipe for misunderstanding, and our table simply didn’t tolerate that.
Now, when I’m dating or navigating friendships, I lean into this candid energy. If you love them, tell them. If something bothers you, bring it up respectfully—but firmly. My abuelos didn’t wait around to say what was on their minds, and my relationships are better because I’ve learned to do the same.
Takeaway: Clear intentions breed stronger connections. Don’t make people read between your emotional lines.
Lesson Four: The Right People Will Dance to Your Rhythm
My family danced constantly. Birthdays, Thursday evenings, World Cup games—it didn’t matter. Salsa, cumbia, or Celia Cruz on repeat, someone would turn up the music and shout, “¡Levántense!” (Get up!). Even if you initially said no, you eventually found yourself moving to the music. It was just who we were—who we are.
The lesson? Not everyone will connect with your rhythm. Some might complain it’s “too much.” Others might just snap in admiration but never join the dance floor. And you know what? It doesn’t matter. The right people will not only join in—they’ll bring new moves and deepen the experience.
When I met my partner—two-stepping with zero salsa experience—he tried. He worked through the missteps for the sake of connection. Eventually, we created our own rhythm—this quirky blend of bachata beats meets awkward side-shuffles. It’s not perfect. But it’s us.
Takeaway: Don’t shrink yourself just because someone doesn’t get your vibe. The rhythm of life will flow naturally with people who truly see you.
The Last Lingering Crumb
That wobbly, scratch-filled kitchen table taught me everything I know about love and connection. It taught me that passion matters, food matters, clarity matters, and sharing your rhythm with someone is priceless.
Wherever life takes me—no matter how far I get from that East End neighborhood, the aroma of café cubano, or my abuela’s unsolicited advice—I carry these lessons with me. Relationships can get messy. They’re scratched-up, wobbly, and far from perfect. But if you treat them right, they’ll hold steady when you need them most.
So, whether you’re navigating a fresh spark or deepening a decades-long bond, don’t forget this: your “kitchen table”—whatever or wherever that may be—isn’t just a metaphor. It’s a reminder to embrace the mess, share your stories, and make room for the people worth sitting with again and again.
