Soy Costeña
Finding home the Afrolatinidad of Colombia's coasts
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Leaning into our dreams isn’t a dream, it’s a constant choice - a relentless wager on God and self. I am still finding the balance between being ushered forward by possibility and remaining grounded in preparation. Have you recently found yourself here too, perhaps in parenthood or in a new work dynamic, or in a relationship that requires you to evolve and leave some of yourself behind?
Giving ourselves space to become is one of the most generous acts of self-care I know. When we gift ourselves what we need, we equip our entire being to show up fully. But how many of us are just pushing through and ignoring the red flags our body and spirit are waving at us? The blatant numbing helps us keep moving forward, but what exactly are we going when the going is what’s breaking us down?
When I gave up my comfortable life in New York to live in alignment with my values, I was choosing to let a new experience emerge, one whose promise was more alluring than the heart-wrenching certainty that I was not living my purpose. I didn’t quite know what was on the other side, but I was willing to trade in the familiar comforts for the solitude, peace, focus, and sunshine my soul needed. And so I broke my lease and went for the new life rather haphazardly with lots of overthinking and not enough planning. I went and did what I knew how to do: put my head down, get my grind up, pray for provision, and put one foot in front of the other. But in the midst of my chaotic departure, I miscalculated how much I needed a community to get me through this new becoming.
The last few years have been a necessary healing and I’ve missed being in real life with my community. They are not mutually exclusive and there is space for both realities. It wasn’t until I took my first trip abroad last year that I remembered how much traveling, experiencing new cultures, and being creative alongside others fills me up. Which,🥁… brings me to some exciting news:
I am announcing an opportunity to travel and be in community with me in my next letter (will be limited spots available, so stay tuned to secure yours early:)
Just a few weeks ago I was in Cartagena photographing and filming the Full Collective retreat hosted by my dear friend Pricelis. Witnessing her lead with grace, break bread and pour into nine women through faith and creativity was the soul-level nourishment I’ve been missing. We made room to experience, speak, exchange, explore, rest, commune, be pampered, see a new thing, and be a new thing.
I decided to stay in Colombia to explore the northern coast with my sister. Our first stop was Baranquilla, and it was not because we knew anything about the city but because of the iconic Joe Arroyo song we grew up listening to. I’m serious.
We arrived in the middle of an incredibly hot day in Barranquilla, carryon bags in hand and hopes high. We hopped in a cab and found ourselves in the noon traffic rush. I peered out the window and began fanning myself to cool down as the ac ramped up. No one else seemed to notice the full-grown mango tree planted smack dab in the middle of the intersection. But my entire being lit up when I saw its frilly blossoms climaxing towards the sky in full regalia. A whole mango tree … in the middle of a Colombian street just chillen. I squealed from the back of the cab, fumbled for my phone, and pressed record as we drove past it.
We continued driving I slowly began to realize there wasn’t just one, but hundreds of mango trees all over Baranquilla’s bustling streets. Seeing mango trees as common as streetlights was as a comforting abundance that made me immediately like the place.
My appetite for adventure found me leaving Baranquilla in a small air-conditioned bus with blue plastic-covered seats and spotty wifi traveling along the northern coast of Colombia. It was my first time visiting the country’s coast, but the shades of brown skin, brilliant landscapes, food culture, and kindness of the people all felt familiar. Every day I passed folks whose gorgeously distinct Afrolatino features stopped me in my tracks and raised the hair on my arms - they looked like they could be family. The kaleidoscope of Afrolatinidad in Colombia is remarkable - I’ve never seen so many beautiful shades of us in one city everywhere, all at once.
Being in Colombia has me speaking more Spanish than I have in years, but there’s still much more to learn. I’m picking up phrases like que pena and ordinary words like arequipe and lancha. My sister sits across from me at a beachside restaurant while I try to decipher a menu written completely in Spanish with phrases I’ve never spoken before. I read them out loud and my sister (who is an interpreter in real life) responds in English to each new word I throw at her with ease: ahuemado, smoked, sureño, southern, costeña, of the coast. I pause and repeat those last three syllables, costeña. I’ve heard this word in passing conversations, seen it’s chunky hand-painted letters on big signs, t shirt’s, and now here in this elaborate Afro-inspired menu.
Costeña - to live on or be born on the coast.
My parents were each born on or near the coast of their islands of Honduras and Puerto Rico and though I visited growing up, being first generation means my parent’s homelands are technically only my second home. Sure, the cultures and impressions of these places have shaped me, but calling them home isn’t the full truth. I’m a third-culture kid raised on the Atlantic with roots in the Caribbean.
There I was sitting at a corner table holding the menu in my hands with a dumbfounded look on my face. My insides were floating and a warm fuzzy feeling tickled my cheeks. I couldn’t help but smile as the full meaning of the word costeña dawned on me. It wasn’t just a word to describe a style of food, a type of dish, or a location - it was a noun folks used to describe themselves. I’m a Florida gal proudly born just ten minutes from the beach, but it took this one tiny word to bring me home to myself in a way I didn’t know I needed. Costeña gracefully weaves identity, culture, and nature into one succinct vessel of belonging I can proudly claim:
I am costeña.
Proximity to the land and ocean is part of my personhood. Where ever there is a coast I’ll feel at home. That’s a truth I can call my own.
3 Awe ‘Tings
a short list of awe-inspiring content to help you through your week
🎧 La Brega podcast episode about the beauty and politics of the Puertorican coast
🎞️ Bomba Tierra gorgeous film about Afro Colombian folks learning how to dive
🎧 Las Caras Lindas De Mi Gente Negra song by Ismael Rivera that warms my heart