The first time I truly felt seen, I was 16 years old, stuck in a church basement in Hialeah, Florida, wearing a truly regrettable Hawaiian shirt. It was my cousin’s quinceañera rehearsal, and the air was thick with the smell of sweaty polyester tuxedos and arroz con pollo in aluminum trays. I didn’t want to be there—I had been voluntold to be part of the “court” of awkward teens waltzing in pairs while our tias barked instructions. For a kid like me, who preferred sneaking off to write bad poetry in spiral notebooks, this was my absolute nightmare.

But then came Gabriela.

1. Seeing Through the Noise

Gabriela was one of the other “court” members, a friend of my cousin. She had this way of making even a clunky rehearsal feel like a scene out of a telenovela—sharp wit, red lipstick, and an attitude like she owned the world. I was nobody’s telenovela heartthrob. I was the shy, bookish Cuban kid who blended into the background. Yet when Gabriela looked at me, she didn’t glaze over or act like I was invisible. She asked me questions about my life, my interests, and—even more shockingly—actually listened.

“What’s your favorite book?” she had asked, which might not sound like a big deal, but in high school, “book” wasn’t usually part of people’s vocabulary.

I stuttered something about José Martí, feeling like I was about to combust under the weight of her attention. But she nodded thoughtfully, like I’d just revealed the key to the universe. She compared Martían poetry to her favorite song lyrics, and just like that, I was completely floored.

For the first time, I felt like someone looked beyond the stereotypes or expectations—"nerdy kid," "good grandson," "guy forced into a tuxedo on a Saturday night." She saw parts of me that even I hadn’t quite figured out yet.

2. What Being Seen Really Looks Like

Being truly seen doesn’t mean someone falls in love with you at first glance, despite what every rom-com from the ‘90s led us to believe. It’s not just about external validation either—it feels deeper, like a crisp breath of air when you didn’t realize you were drowning.

Being seen means that someone connects with the version of you you’re not always willing to show. They notice the little things: the way your voice gets animated when you’re passionate about something, how you tap your fingers to imaginary rhythms, or how you love spicy food despite breaking into a sweat with the first bite. It’s not about them “saving” you or even giving you an unsolicited compliment. It’s about feeling understood.

Gabriela didn’t declare my awkward, Cuban, poetry-loving self as fascinating or perfect. But she made me feel like I didn’t need to apologize for who I was, which was revolutionary back then. Heck, even today, when I feel like I’m underperforming in the game of adulthood, I think back to that moment.

3. Breakthroughs Through Connection

Years later, when I was writing my first short story collection, I realized how much that night had shaped me. I was writing about growing up as a first-gen kid with one foot in Cuban culture and the other in the American dream. My grandparents—staunchly old-school—expected me to value family above all, while the world outside demanded individuality, ambition, and constant hustle.

In many ways, I’d spent years code-switching, molding myself into whatever version of "me" I thought would be most acceptable to whoever I was around. But there was something radical in the simplicity of Gabriela’s approach. She didn’t want me to perform. She was genuinely interested in my story, and by doing so, she nudged me closer to something I couldn’t articulate at the time: self-acceptance.

4. Takeaways for Real-World Connections

Here’s where the rubber meets the road in relationships, whether romantic, platonic, or even professional:

  • Ask Real Questions. Gabriela didn’t hit me with surface-level stuff like “What’s up?” or “How’s school?” Instead, she got curious. Why poetry? Why Marti? Why this particular kid? Curiosity makes people feel valued.
  • Active Listening Is a Love Language. Listening is more than nodding and waiting for your turn to talk. It’s about engaging—asking follow-ups, remembering what someone said, and making them feel heard. Trust me, the quiet, shy friends in your group are actually bursting with stories.
  • Stop Trying to Impress. Sometimes, we focus so much on how to perform for others—whether it’s the perfect outfit, profile photo, or anecdote—that we forget to connect. Gabriela wasn’t trying to blow anyone away. She was genuine, present, and interested. People can tell the difference.
  • Celebrate People’s Weirdness. Because nothing says "I truly see you" like encouraging someone to geek out over botanicas or obscure salsa tracks.

5. Why It Matters—and How You Can Do It, Too

I didn’t marry Gabriela. We didn’t even date beyond a few text messages and one pizza hangout where I spilled Coke on her lap (#SmoothMove). But she woke something up for me. Whether it’s a friend, a partner, or even a stranger at a party with killer dance moves, moments of connection like this make us believe we are worth being known.

So how do you foster this in your relationships?

  • Be brave enough to let your guard down. I know it’s easier said than done. But sometimes, sharing your nerdy love for Cuban poetry opens the door for someone else to say, “Hey, me too.”
  • If you want to connect, show appreciation for the words unsaid. Not everyone will know how to articulate their truths in the moment—especially for those of us who navigate multiple cultural worlds. Pay attention to what’s between the lines, and call it out when you see it.

6. The Final Word

Feeling seen is the heart of connection. It’s what we all secretly crave, whether we’re awkward teenagers in Hawaiian shirts or full-grown adults fumbling through professional relationships. Sometimes it’s surprise moments of recognition, like Gabriela and me in a church basement. Other times, it’s the everyday work of actually looking at the people in your life and reminding them (and yourself): “You’re more than enough.”

My challenge to you? Next time you’re with someone—anyone—look closer. Ask the better question. Listen the way you’d want to be listened to. You might just become the Gabriela in someone else’s story.