Category:

Latina

Growing up a bicultural first-generation Mexican American Latina, my viewpoint may be a little different than others. I think my unique perspective and exposure to the Latino culture and Southern American culture growing up let me look at the world with an open heart and open mind.

I grew up in a very culturally rich city, Chicago where it was normal to see people of all different races, religions and countries of origin. It was nothing exceptional to hear many different languages spoken at any given time. Even in my own home, Spanish and English were both spoken. I thought this was completely normal and I wish it was.

When we traveled abroad, our parents demanded that we treated the people and country of others with reverence and respect. We were taught to immerse ourselves in the culture. When in Rome, live as the Romans was sort of my dad’s travel mantra. I’m so grateful he did this for us. I want to do the same for my girls.

I want them to embrace their Latina and their American cultures and I want them to respect the people and cultures of other people. We do this through exposure, travel and teaching patience and tolerance and immersion.

I think our cultures, our religions, our circumstances and experiences give us all our own very unique perspective of life and here I share mine.

hispanic heritage, racial micro-aggressions, la Raza, white skin privilege, Latino cultural identity

Freckled Mexican

Hispanic Heritage: My Journey from Assimilation to Empowerment

by Deborah Cruz 2023/09/14

written by Deborah Cruz

Estimated reading time: 9 minutes

It’s September and that means it is time to celebrate Hispanic heritage and Latino cultural identity month. Or the month the U.S. has decided to celebrate the Spaniards’ colonization of Central and South American indigenous people. High five! If you’re Latino, you know how we all feel about colonization. It’s the fiesta we didn’t sign up for. It’s the gentrification of our bloodlines that none of us wanted or asked for but we’ve turned the story around into something beautiful. Hispanic and Latino people are some of the most loyal, loving and warm people you will ever meet and I am not just saying that because I am one. So let’s start by celebrating our diverse roots and vibrant tapestry of our varied cultures. Viva la Raza! 🇲🇽 ❤️

It’s time to reflect on the rich heritage that makes each of us who we are. As many of you may know already, I am the product of a biracial love story; my dad is from Mexico and I’ve got a whole lot of indigenous Tarascan/ Purepecha roots to prove it and my mom is from Tennessee via Ireland and the U.K. My bloodline is a beautiful amalgamation of Indigenous, Spaniard, Portuguese and Italian with a smattering of a variety of other European countries, as well as some Congolese and Filipino blood just to keep me spicy. At the end of the day, I’m almost equal parts European and Indigenous. But, as any person of color knows, we all live categorized and marginalized by the one drop rule (assigning the minority status of their lower-status parent group to mixed-race individuals). For me, these people, esta Raza, are my people.

This is my journey from assimilation to empowerment.

Growing up, I was the fair-skinned child with freckles ( similar to my daughters), dark brown hair with a slight auburn undertone and amber eyes. In the summer, my skin got golden and my hair got lighter. This was confusing to some, myself included. Like many biracial kids I’ve ridden the identity rollercoaster. Societal stereotypes don’t help. Year after year, I’d change how I identified racially on my enrollment cards out of guilt and a sense of loyalty to each parent. Often, I felt ( and was made to feel by the society I was growing up in) as though I never fit in; not white enough to be white and not brown enough to be brown. I think that’s a fairly common situation for a lot of biracial children. Don’t get me wrong, I love my biracial heritage and culture, it just got a little confusing for me as a child. I felt like a chameleon but also like a liar because I could so easily blend in. In the end, feeling like a girl with no country; an immigrant daughter in hiding. In the end, it made me stronger and prouder of my culture and where I came from and I know, better than most, that Latinos come in all skin shades, hair and eye colors ( just like every other race).

I was raised 100% in Mexican culture but I lived in the white world. I felt like an outsider but I easily blended in because of the color of my skin. At home, I’d hear stories of how my father would be mistreated and underestimated because of his accent and racially profiled because of the color of his skin. I couldn’t relate to any of it. At one point, my proud father even encouraged all of his children to identify ourselves to the world using our mom’s Anglo surname just to be marked safe from racism. This proud Latina daughter was absolutely horrified at the thought. I had no idea of the pain he had suffered or the pride he put aside to even suggest this, until I was a mother myself.

Just because you’re “kidding” when you say it, racial micro-aggressions are still racism.

I remember as a young teenager hearing my dad’s stories of blatant and micro-aggressive racism that he’d endured in the world outside of our home and not being able to relate to any of it in the slightest. If I’m being completely honest, I probably gaslit him from my own ignorance. But we don’t know what we don’t know, and when we finally do, we’re supposed to do better and make better choices. I couldn’t conceive of the atrocities he endured by simply existing in a world that hated him because of the color of his skin, until I experienced it myself.

You see, I’d spent the entirety of my childhood assimilating into Caucasian culture. In case you didn’t already know this, that is what many Latino parents had to do back in the 70s, to protect their children and give them the best chance to succeed in white America. Like I said, I was a fair skinned freckled Mexican who blended in… until I didn’t and then I couldn’t be unseen.

When I was 18, I met and started hanging out with a group of Latino kids from a neighboring area, who all originated from the same region as my dad back in Mexico. Finally, people who got me and my cultural experience. We all met when my brother started playing soccer with them in East Chicago. Immediately, I felt seen, understood , not judged by stereotypes and, finally, I felt like I’d found my community. Yep, it was a group of teenage soccer playing boys who saved me from my racial identity crisis. This group of guys affectionately referred to themselves as La Raza and while at 18, I had no true idea of the impact this community of young men would have on my life, to me La Raza meant family.

For me, La Raza taught me what Hispanic heritage and the Latino idenity experience was beyond just my traditional family.

The more I grew to know these guys, the more I grew to love my la Raza brothers … the more I grew to know and love myself and my Hispanic heritage. And that’s when the veil between who I was and who I’d become was removed and that’s the moment that changed who I am today. I finally saw the unseen racial micro-aggressions and blatant racism that surrounded me and could no longer unsee it. Assimilating and cultural blending were no longer an option for me.

That moment happened on a simple ride home on a warm summer’s night. We’d spent the day together, probably at the beach or a cookout and had been having a great time, laughing, talking, listening to Mexican music and just enjoying each other’s friendship. But my dad is very traditional and I had a curfew until I moved out of my parents house at 22. Needless to say at 18, the rule was that I needed to be home before 11pm. The guy I was talking to drove me home along with 2 of our friends. Mind you, we’re all Mexican but I’m the only white-passing person in the car that night. Keep in mind, these were not thugs or gang bangers. They were young Mexican men who just graduated from high school and were headed to college but happened to be a beautiful shade of golden brown that summer’s night.

In a hurry to get me home before curfew, at my urging, the driver cut through the parking lot of the gas station and that was the choice that changed my entire perspective on who I was in the world. That was the night that a cop’s racial “micro-aggression” cut me deep and opened my eyes wide making assimilation no longer an option.

White skin privilege isn’t really a privilege but a burden.

The cut through the parking lot was a traffic violation at the officer’s discretion, but what came next had everything to do with 3 brown boys in a car with a “white girl”. The cops pulled us over. Up until this point in my life, I’d unknowingly and obliviously benefited from my white skin privilege.

In my desperation to make my curfew, I repeatedly asked the driver to “ask them why they pulled us over” which was met with them screaming at us all to get out of the car, for the boys to put their hands on the car and for all of us to identify ourselves.

Each one respectfully and calmly gave his name ( as all brown moms teach their little brown boys to do in order to avoid danger) and then, it was my turn. “Debi Cruz, ” to which the officer asked, “ How do you spell that? Cruise? Kruse? Crews?” When I responded, “Cruz”, I suddenly went from being treated like a kidnap victim to an assailant. In his next breath, he told me to place my hands on the car. I realized the only thing that had changed was that the officer realized I too was Mexican.

After that, they cuffed the driver and threw him into the back of the patrol car because the driver, at my urging, had asked why we’d been pulled over. The two other young men asked if they could take the vehicle to drive me home because of where I lived and my impending curfew. None of us were drinking. We were approximately a 10 minute drive from home but it was a dangerous neighborhood and definitely not one that a teenage girl should be walking in at midnight. The officer looked directly into my face, sized me up and down, and said, “Nah, she can walk.” Then, they drove away with my boyfriend and his car keys, leaving me and the other two guys abandoned in the gas station parking lot. I can’t help feeling like if I’d said my name was spelled, “ Crews “, they’d have given me a ride home because the officer’s entire demeanor changed towards me with the correct spelling. It may seem like a micro-aggression to you but to anybody who’s experienced this kind of racism, it’s just as hurtful, demeaning and demoralizing as any blatant racism ever could be.

That night, those two gentlemen ( my guardian angels) walked me home through a ghetto they didn’t belong to, making it more dangerous for them than it was for me. They did it because that’s what family does; you lookout for one another. When I got home, I explained to my parents what happened and the guys and I spent the next 2 hours calling the rest of the Raza to raise bail and we did.

After over the last 30+ years of friendship, la Raza has celebrated, cried with, lived, laughed and loved together. We’ve weathered college, attended weddings, funerals, birthdays, quinceaneras, and now, our children’s milestones together. We’ve grown from children to parents and grandparents together. The bond is unbreakable. Each one reaches back to help the other one up. This is the true beauty of la Raza, it is pure, unconditional love and family. Over the years, there have been times when I’ve gotten so caught up in my own life that I’ve taken this group for granted but there’s never been a moment when I wouldn’t stand up and protect each and everyone of them. Mi Raza has made me who I am today; eyes wide open, scared but brave enough to face all the ugly in the world because I know they’ve always got my back. Those young Mexican men made me into a warrior princess unafraid to face the world’s challenges big or small.

So this Hispanic heritage month, as we celebrate Mexican Independence Day this weekend, I’d like to shout out to my la Raza boys ( and girls, there were a few of us) , “Viva la Raza.” Let’s cherish our heritage and the family we choose along the way.

2023/09/14 0 comments

What Is Affirmative Action and Why You Should Care

by Deborah Cruz 2023/06/29

written by Deborah Cruz

Estimated reading time: 9 minutes

In the simplest terms, regarding higher education, affirmative action (which stemmed from the civil rights movement in the 1960s) is the practice of considering a student’s background characteristics such as race as a factor in deciding whether to admit an applicant. This is typically referring to admissions policies aimed at increasing the number of black, Latino, and other minority students on campus. This is really important to me right now especially because I have a daughter who is beginning college in the fall and I want her to see diversity everywhere.

This is done so that colleges and universities can factor race into the equation when considering who to admit. This is not a free pass for minority students, it is a part of a holistic approach that reviews every aspect of an application, including grades, test scores and extracurricular activities.

The fact of the matter is that even though I believe that all people are created equal, not every one of us were dealt the same hand in life. Our experiences are very different, and race plays a huge part in how our experience plays out. Whether or not English is your first language matters. Ignorant, racist predispositions that society holds tight to are holding minority children back from evolving and succeeding in the United States.

Regardless of how many “woke” people want to say they don’t see color, they are the minority and worse still, in many cases, they only don’t see color when it’s easy or convenient or doesn’t affect them directly. I’m not blind to race or skin color. I was raised to see the differences, embrace those differences, and appreciate the differences. We don’t all have to look and believe the same to deserve human respect. We don’t even have to be friends for me to respect your humanity. You still with me?

The bottom line is that the goal of race-conscious admissions policies is to increase student diversity, in order to enhance the educational experience for all students. It’s a counteraction to white privilege. Schools also employ recruitment programs and scholarship opportunities intended to boost diversity, but the Supreme Court litigation was just focused on admissions. Remember a few years ago when there was a scandal about celebrity parents paying their children’s way into college? Yeah, see, minority children don’t do that. They can’t do that. We have to work for it. We know that education is the great equalizer and to be educated is to have power so we are determined to do our best.

To be completely honest, when I was a teenager applying for colleges, I hated the thought of affirmative action. Not because it wasn’t for me. Nope, I was the exact kind of kid it is meant to help. I was a very smart, capable, involved, first-generation student from a blue-collar family who worked my ass off to get into my top choice schools. I did it. This little freckled Mexican got into Harvard and every other school I applied to.

But I never ticked that fucking “Hispanic” box, not even once. I refused to because I didn’t want all my hard work being diminished and reduced to charity by some ignorant asshole who was jealous that I got accepted and he didn’t. I didn’t want people saying, “Yeah, but you only got in because you’re Mexican.” No bitches, I got in because I’m really fucking intelligent, and I worked twice as hard as anyone else I knew. Yeah, I’m humble too.

My pride made me lose out on scholarships that I could have gotten had I just checked that box. But I couldn’t do it. I’m still paying for that mistake, literally. I refused to let anyone think I needed their charity. I was just as good as any middle-class Caucasian student only my skin wasn’t alabaster, we lived pretty close to the poverty line and my dad’s first language wasn’t English. But how could I, at 17-years-old, accept that as my destiny? I couldn’t.

You can only live for so long hearing that “Mexicans are coming over here stealing all of our jobs, living on welfare and not paying taxes.” In my house, none of that shit was true. We were taught to work hard for what we wanted. In fact, if I’m being completely honest, that is pretty much across the board for us Latinos, at least for every Latino I know.

We are not taught to take handouts. In real talk, most of us would rather starve than take handouts. We don’t take your jobs. We take the jobs we earn and deserve, and, in some cases, we even take the jobs that most won’t take because we’re taught from birth that family is everything and hard work is honorable. So, with no shame at all, we put our heads down and do the hard, back breaking work to feed our families because that is the point of everything.

When I heard that the Supreme court overturned affirmative action, I was conflicted. But, I wasn’t surprised at all. After the events of recent years and the blatant racism that plagues this nation why would I be shocked that SCOTUS did this not so covert microaggression against minorities? The more I thought about it, the sadder I got because what a boring and unseasoned life we would live with no diversity?

Our Gen Z and Alpha children, they truly don’t give a shit about color. They see it and they respect it, and they move the fuck along. My daughters don’t discriminate against anyone because of the color of their skin, their religion, their sexual orientation, their pronouns or birth gender. My children don’t care who you love or how you celebrate that love. My girls, they judge you on your character and even then, they let it go. They believe in second chances and know that people are fallible. They choose joy and love over hatred. They make better choices than the generations that came before them and they move along. If you try to challenge their beliefs, they’ll hear you out but if you’re wrong, they will stand up for what is right and what is fair. All this to say, I hope these children stay this way and change the world.

I think affirmative action still needs to be in place because minority students are still getting passed over and shut out of colleges and universities across the country. Look, my children have had the good fortune to go to the best private schools and have every privilege there is to help them achieve their dreams of university and a career. They have choices. My girls also have upper middle-class parents who paved their way. They want for nothing. They have resources, 3 meals a day, a refrigerator full of food, air and heat. Comfortable beds and don’t have to worry about things like translating for their parents or figuring out where they’re going to get money for school lunches or clothes. They have a stay-at-home mom with 3 Master’s Degrees who makes her own rules and chooses her collaborations. They have the life they have because their father and I worked tirelessly to give them that life because someone gave us a chance to work for our dreams.

But that is not what my childhood was like. I did have to worry about where I was going to get money for lunches, books, clothes and field trips. When I was growing up, there were six children raised on a factory worker’s salary and a stay-at-home mom’s love. When I went away to college, no one helped me. I had to pay my own way. As a 17-year-old, had to figure it all out. I had no support system, and it was very difficult for me. But I still made it. I went hungry sometimes and sometimes the cultural differences between inside my home and outside made me feel like I was from a different planet. In retrospect, I realize that I had to work twice as hard because my situation was different from the middle-class Caucasian kids that I went to school with, which is not their fault, but it wasn’t mine either. Being different shouldn’t be a character flaw.

Being a minority in the United States means being born with stigma and shame because the majority will make you feel like you are less than, no matter what you do. Affirmative action was an attempt to level the playing field. It wasn’t perfect but it was something and some kind of effort is better than none; if only to make us feel like we are seen, and someone cares enough to hold their hand out to help us up. It’s not a handout but a hand up. We’re not about stepping on the majorities back to get to the top. It’s about us all starting from the same point and being afforded the same opportunities to compete for opportunities, despite the differences in our skin color. That’s what affirmative action is about.

There was one weird exception to the conservative Supreme Court majority’s decision ending race-based affirmative action in higher education on Thursday: military academies. Apparently, using race as a factor in admissions to military academies can “further compelling interests,” Chief Justice John Roberts wrote.

The distinction suggests that there could be value in using race to diversify some American institutions i.e., the U.S. military’s officer corps but Roberts’ overall decision says loud and clear that it would be unconstitutional to do so at public and private colleges and universities.

I feel that the U.S. government is sending the message that they don’t mind our minority children dying in service to their country in the name of equality and justice that they can’t even fully receive themselves. By the same token, they can’t be afforded that same luxury at the collegiate level. This sends the message to minority parents that the U.S. government finds our children to be disposable and unworthy of educating. I call bull shit. Don’t tell our children they don’t deserve your help to better their situation while simultaneously telling them that they are perfectly okay to die for the same country, that refused to care whether they lived in poverty and ignorance.

According to Huff Post, Liberal Justice Ketanji Brown Jackson wrote in her dissent, “The Court has come to rest on the bottom-line conclusion that racial diversity in higher education is only worth potentially preserving insofar as it might be needed to prepare Black Americans and other underrepresented minorities for success in the bunker, not the boardroom.” What the fuck America? What the actual fuck?

Affirmative action is about equality, that is it. No one is trying to out do the majority, we just need our kids to get a fair shot at achieving the same things in life as everyone else. What are your thoughts? Do you think affirmative action in schools is a good thing? Or is there something more progressive or maybe even more effective for leveling out the collegiate playing field for all students?

2023/06/29 2 comments

The Racist You Know Does Not Approve this Message, casual racism

Latina

The Racist You Know Does Not Approve of this Message

by Deborah Cruz 2022/12/01

written by Deborah Cruz

Estimated reading time: 7 minutes

Today is December 1^st and I promised myself that I was going to start writing again. Real, honest to God, truthful writing about what’s going on in my world. Let me start by saying that it’s been a lot, even for this Gen X mom. If you’ve been reading here over the years, you know that I’ve been through a lot of shit (like everyone else) in my life and, even I, find 2022 to be a ridiculous amount of crazy. I’m not going to lay it all on you from the jump because, honestly, it’ll just sound like life’s a bad country song over here complete with a dog knocking on heaven’s door. But really, it’s not all bad (says the toxic positivity that’s currently keeping me afloat along with a lot of deep breaths and some pharmaceuticals). I’m still married to the Big Guy and the girls are doing their best. We have our health, mostly and we all love each other. That being said, since I decided to jump back in the blogging fire on Throat Punch Thursday, I figured I should share with you a throat punch-worthy story. Just be warned, the racist you know does not approve of this message ( even if they’re related to you).

In September, as we were recovering from CoVid, my husband’s grandmother, my daughters’ GG and one of the most vibrant women I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing and loving died. It fucking sucked as you can imagine. Here comes the throat punch son of a bitch part of our program, at her funeral, I still can’t believe this happened, an extended family member who almost never speaks thought this was the time and place to tell me that he didn’t approve of “mixed” marriages and “biracial” children. Yes. He said this to me, out of the blue, at his Aunt’s funeral. This grown-ass man in his late 60’s who has said maybe a total of 15 words to me total in the past 23 years (maybe that’s why…he didn’t approve of me, my parents, my marriage, my brothers and sisters and my children). He probably thought I would hold my tongue because, you know, we were at a funeral but apparently, he doesn’t know me. I’ve been known to speak my mind at family funerals on more than one occasion. Don’t test me man. He just had to fuck around and find out and boy, did he find out.

Did I mention that he said, “people should stick with their own kind.” QUE?QUE??? Apparently, that means he should only be associating and mixing with other garbage trolls. Did I mention my parents got married just barely after the time that interracial marriage became legal? Did that POS think my existence should be illegal? Does he think the fact that he was born with white skin and an Anglo surname makes his life somehow more valuable than mine? Than my fathers? Than my children’s lives?

I nearly swallowed my tongue at that level of flabbergast. Like what the actual f*ck?? Who says that kind of shit today? I know there are people that think that kind of shit but who says that out loud, to the face of a biracial woman at.a.funeral??? When I tell you that my head almost exploded, that is an understatement. He really should have kept that conversation inside his tiny, malfunctioning, racist brain.

Look, I am no stranger to racism. We’ve been here before. Casual racism is rampant in America, especially if you are white-passing. If I had a penny for every time a person made a slur about Mexicans and I informed them that I am, in fact, MEXICAN and they said, “no, not like you,” I’d be a billionaire. Apparently, if you’re white-passing and they get caught being racist, suddenly, you’re the exception. No, pendejo, I am not the exception. I am just like the rest of them and you are an offense to me. You disown my existence, I disown you twice,

Sorry about the tangent, this topic and this incident in particular, makes my blood boil. So back to my story after he basically told me that he doesn’t approve of my parent’s marriage, my marriage, my existence or that of my children, I very calmly (in a whisper-shout as to feign composure while exposing him to all the other funeral goers including a cousin who was a priest and within earshot as a racist piece of caca) said, “You do realize that I am biracial. My dad is from Mexico. My parents are in a biracial marriage. My husband, your 2^nd cousin, is in a biracial marriage. Our children are mixed. All of my brothers and sisters, we are mixed.”

The racist you know

Him: ……….

Me: “Why? Why do you “not approve”? What do you mean people should “stick with their own kind”? You mean humans should stick with other humans?”

Him: “I didn’t mean like YOU.”

Me: “There’s no difference between me and “them”. We are all the same kind.”

Him: “Well, I’m sorry. It’s just what I believe. It’s how I was raised.”

Me: “So your dad was a racist? Because I know your mom isn’t. She has loved me since the day she met me.” Let me tell you, if Alzheimer’s didn’t have a firm hold on her, I’d definitely tell on his ass.

Him: “Oh God no. My dad once heard me say “n*gger” when I was a kid and I got spanked.” Maybe what he should have gotten was aborted. (OK, I went too far but honestly, he’s a trash human being and not fit for human consumption.)

Me: (Picks jaw up off ground) Did he really just say the N-word at a funeral? Did he really just say that word out loud anywhere on the face of the earth?

Him: “That woman lying in the casket (his aunt) her dad (his grandfather) was the biggest racist I’ve ever met.” Apparently, racism skips a generation in some families.

Me: “Well, I’m glad I never met him. I’m kind of wishing I never met you either.”

And that’s when I decided to never see this asshole ever again because life is too short for dealing with this level of ignorance. Fuck him and his racist grandpa who I never had the misfortune to ever meet.

The racist you know does not approve of this message

All this to say, I believe in freedom of speech but not freedom to hate. I was raised by my biracial parents to treat everyone with equal respect and tolerance. I give everyone a chance until they show me they don’t deserve one. I see color and I honor the differences. I welcome the opportunity to learn from others about their culture and to see life from their perspective. We are all human beings and everyone is equal in my mind until they prove otherwise.

You know how you become less than to me? By having a poor character, no ethics or integrity, being judgmental and choosing to hate others simply because you don’t approve, understand or look like them. I don’t hate anyone but if you are a prejudiced garbage person, I also reserve the right to not give you space and time in my heart (even if we’re related). I was raised to believe that family is everything but being a part of my family means unconditional love and acceptance, not down low disgust and contempt for the existence of everyone I love. This man and his hatred are a hard pass, certain hell no for me.

What would you have done? Should I have been more aggressive? Should I have given him an actual throat punch at the funeral? He certainly deserved it but out of respect for GG, I restrained my passionate Latina desire to throat-punch him right there and then. Hopefully, I’ll never cross paths with him again but if I do, here’s hoping he has learned his lesson and keeps his mouth shut because I definitely won’t.

The racist you know doesn’t get a free pass just because they’re related to you, work with you or grew up with you. Stop making yourself small to try to blend in or hide. Stand tall and speak your truth. They should know better and if they don’t, let them fuck around and find out right then and there, wherever that might be.

2022/12/01 0 comments

Why You Should Care about the Mysterious Death of Marine Corporal Brandon Javier Alvarez , Corporal Brandon Javier Alvarez, #Justice4cplbrandonjavieralvarez, Thousands Oak marine found dead in Manama Bahrain, non-combat incident, a life stolen, Why Marine Cpl Brandon Javier Alvarez Life and Mysterious Death Matter

Latina News

Why You Should Care about the Sudden, Non-Combat Death of Marine Corporal Brandon Javier Alvarez

by Deborah Cruz 2021/06/25

written by Deborah Cruz

Yesterday, June 24, 2021, our family laid to eternal rest one of our very own, Marine Corporal Brandon Javier Alvarez and no one is okay. His death was dubious, untimely, inexplicable and there are no answers being provided by those who were charged with keeping him safe while he kept the nation safe. His life was stolen. There is no accountability. This is why you should care about the sudden, non-combat death of Marine Corporal Brandon Javier Alvarez. What’s insures your child’s safety and not his? He was here and now he’s just gone. Broken hearts and empty arms longing for one more hug with no reasonable explanation given. This makes closure impossible for his family and friends. Choking back emotions in order to share his story is all that we can do now. Helpless, distraught, devastated and angry not knowing what really happened to Brandon.

Brandon, like all young men his age, had his entire life ahead of him. He had a beautiful, smart girlfriend who he loved like you do when you’re 22-years-old, big and beautifully. He adored his mother and his siblings were his best friends, confidants and his ride or dies. You see, I know this life because this is how our family is at its root. Family and God are always first, with country close behind in our lives. We are raised that when you have nothing else in this world, you have your family and they have you and together everything is possible. We are strong, resilient, passionate and born of immigrants. We don’t quit, we work hard and we dream BIG. This is how we survive but the world can be cruel. It’s been particularly cruel these past few weeks.

Corporal Brandon Javier Alvarez, #Justice4cplbrandonjavieralvarez, Thousands Oak marine found dead in Manama Bahrain, non-combat incident, a life stolen

Brandon joined the United States Marine Corp as part of his American dream and he was on his way to realizing his dreams of marrying the girl he loved, giving his mother a house of her own and becoming the man he wanted to be; living the life he dreamed of with the people he loved. He knew to do that, he had to do the work and make the sacrifices to get where he wanted to be.

Why Marine Cpl Brandon Javier Alvarez Life and Mysterious Death Matter

Why you should care about the sudden, non-combat death of Marine Corporal Brandon Javier Alvarez

A few weeks ago a happy, healthy young 22-year-old man made the ultimate sacrifice of leaving the family, girlfriend and home he loved to serve the people of the United States of America in Manama Bahrain. No one thought the last time they saw him would be the last time they ever say him.

It was the first time he’d been so far away from home alone but he eagerly accepted the assignment because he knew what came next would mean he could provide the kind of life he wanted to give to his family. His beautiful, big and closely knit family who kept in contact daily even though separated continents apart. Time and space are irrelevant when it comes to family, at least in our family. Our parents instill this into us as tiny children and it sticks because family really is everything. We know that in our bones.

Corporal Brandon Javier Alvarez, #Justice4cplbrandonjavieralvarez, Thousands Oak marine found dead in Manama Bahrain, non-combat incident

One night, two weeks after arriving in Bahrain, after a phone call with his brother and before his daily phone call with his beloved girlfriend, his life was stolen. Where a kind, caring, loving son/ brother/ uncle/ boyfriend was just a few minutes previous, he was no longer. That quickly, the world was flipped upside down and inside out.

This isn’t the first time a sudden, non-combat death with no reasonable explanation to the family has happened and if we don’t get justice for Brandon, it will happen again

Two marines arrived at his mother’s house to inform her that her son was gone. Just that quickly a family was shattered, changed forever, unimaginable pain, sorrow and anger left where all that love once was; all that promise now a life unrealized and there was nothing they could do to undo it.

The thing is Brandon’s life was precious to so many people. People who are not afraid to be loud and speak out. We’re not the type to just accept that one of our children is dead without explanation and that be the end of it. There has to be an explanation. No human being can just disappear from this earth and those who loved him or her just nod their heads, cry and get over it. There is no “getting over” losing a child, a brother, a sister, a mother, a father, an uncle, an aunt or a husband or partner. Life is precious and we know that to our core. We’ve lost people before and we hold tight to one another.

To the military Brandon may have been just another soldier. A young, Mexican-American man willing to give his life to protect this country that our parents came to to give their children a promise of a better future. This country that they are so thankful and grateful to have the opportunity to live in. But to his family and those who knew and loved him, we can’t let it go. We demand and deserve to have the truth.

All of my aunt’s tears will never bring him back into her arms. This immeasurable loss can never be recouped. The emptiness that lurks beneath the sadness and anger is just waiting to swallow her whole because in the end, Brandon is gone. No one knows that more astutely than a mother.

He’ll never get to grow up. Never get to marry his beautiful girlfriend and start the family he dreamed of. He’ll never get to dance with his baby sister at her quinceañera. He’ll never get to be the best man at his brothers’ weddings. Brandon won’t be around to give his little sister brotherly advice or joke and laugh with his oldest sister. He’ll never get to see his nephew graduate high school.

He’ll never walk into a room and grab his mother and dance cumbia with her just because and she’ll never get to hear his laugh or see his dimples ever again. When he died, all of those possibilities died with him; a part of everyone who loved him died on June 6th in Bahrain too. I know this because we are from the same people. I too am 1 of 6 children and I know how close that bond is, sometimes it’s hard to tell where you end and your brother/sister begins.

To the marines, he may have been “government property” but to those who knew and loved him, he was a light. He is a hero whose life was stolen. The investigation is ongoing.

The only information that the Marine Corps is providing is:

Rank: Corporal

Name: Brandon J. Alvarez

Unit: Fleet Anti-Terrorism Support Team Central Command

(FASTCENT), NSA Manama Bahrain, Marine Corps Security

Force Regiment

Dates of Service: November 26, 2018- Service Join Date

May 21, 2021- June 6, 2021- Assigned FASTCENT NSA, Manama Bahrain.

Previous Command: July 18, 2019- May 20, 2021- Marine Corps Air Station Miramar San Diego

But Marine Cpl Brandon Javier Alvarez was so much more than that to those who loved him.

I watched his funeral live-streamed from 2000 miles away, I watched as my Tia, cousins and all those who loved him were brought to their knees at this loss. It’s devastating to see my family in so much pain and I am angry that they are going through this. I’m angry that they are being given no answers. Mostly, I’m mad that Brandon is no longer here to live the big, full, beautiful life he had planned. None of this makes any sense.

Please keep sharing his story and help us get the truth and justice that he deserves. #Justice4CplBrandonJavierAlvarez

Click Here to help the family find justice for CPL Brandon Javier Alvarez and prevent other military families from going through this.

Why You Should Care about the Mysterious Death of Marine Corporal Brandon Javier Alvarez

2021/06/25 2 comments

Hilaria Baldwin and husband Alec Baldwin pose at the opening night of the revival of Ivo van Hove's "West Side Story"on Broadway at The Broadway Theatre on February 20, 2020 in New York City.

Entertainment Latina

In Defense of Hilaria Baldwin and her Spanish Accent

by Deborah Cruz 2020/12/31

written by Deborah Cruz

It’s taken me a week to write this post because I had to suss through all of my feelings on it. Sounds crazy, right? Why do I need to have feelings on it? It’s not me. At first, I was really pissed that people were mad because why is it anyone’s business where Hilaria Baldwin is from or what her ethnicity is? Who is she hurting? But, something wouldn’t let me post that 1^st version because I just felt like there was more that I needed to know. Then, I realized, I was identifying with her, as I am a white Latina. The thing is, she’s not a white Latina or a Latina at all. We’re both Americans with dark hair and fair complexions but that is where the similarities end because while I actually do have Spanish roots, she does not.

In Defense of Hilaria Baldwin and her Spanish Accent from a White Latina

In defense of Hilaria Baldwin, I watched her Instagram videos clarifying and explaining herself to the general public because some troll on Twitter was making fun of her seemingly coming and going Spanish accent. I was offended for her, not by her. Also, as someone who has been attacked by trolls themselves and has had her own Latina-ness publicly called into question, I was triggered.

I’ll be honest with you; I don’t know Hilaria Baldwin. We’re not friends. I didn’t grow up with her. I don’t know anything about her, other than that she is married to Alec Baldwin and had a bunch of beautiful babies with Latino-inspired names. She is called Hilaria, so as a Latina, I assumed she herself is Hispanic or Latina (yes, there is a difference). She looks like me; white skin, dark hair, and eyes, and spoiler alert: It’s hard being a white Latina. I don’t know if she’s Hispanic or not but she could be.

That’s right, I said it. It always has been hard and it probably always will be hard being one ethnicity and looking different than the typical stereotype that Americans expect. You think it’s hard being Latino or Black in America because people can see the color of your skin and you’re a target from the minute they see you coming? It is. It’s true. You can’t hide it. You can try. They make creams, treatments and cosmetic surgeries for just these kinds of things. People are dying trying to be white for some reason. Somehow, white has become a barometer for beauty to many. Not to me. To me, beauty radiates from within.

Yet here I am, speaking out

In Defense of Hilaria Baldwin and her Spanish Accent from a White Latina

I am a first-generation Mexican American. I am a white Latina. At first glance, you’d never consider that I’m a minority. Born in Ohio, raised in Chicago. I don’t have a thick Spanish accent. If you see me, most people have guessed that I’m Greek or Italian. When I was a child, I looked like I didn’t belong to either of my parents. My mom has blue eyes and fair skin and light hair. My dad is golden brown, with dark hair and eyes. He speaks with a thick accent, then again, so does my mom (just his is from Mexico and hers is from Tennessee.) My daughters have blonde hair and blue eyes. They are Latina. Latinos come in all shapes, sizes and shades from alabaster to bronze, so I make no assumptions.

READ ALSO: Racism in America

I was raised on two languages, in two countries with two cultures. I love them both. I am proud of them both. But I was made to feel, by people who didn’t know me, who judged me based on the color of my skin, that I didn’t belong to either. I was always made to feel like I was lacking in both and needed to prove myself. I had to work twice as hard to fit in. Until I decided I just wasn’t going to care about what anyone else, except for those who either gave birth to me or I gave birth to, thought. It was very hard to navigate my formative years.

Why is it so impossible to believe that Hilaria Baldwin could have a Spanish accent?

The result is that when I am around other Latinos, my accent does become thicker because I feel freer to speak Spanish in a way that is more authentic to those around me because they understand me. I actually think that is pretty normal for most people who grew up speaking more than one language. Latino/ Hispanic is not just a label it is way of life. It radiates from within, it comes from your soul and is a receipt on all of your love for your Latino heritage and the Latino way of life. It’s a privilege.

But, I live in the United States and I have been through many years of university, I can speak 3 other languages, so when I speak English, I sound completely American. However, I go between speaking English and Spanish often (so much so that I could count Spanglish as my fifth language), probably from the years of translating it in my head when speaking to my dad or my grandparents, or celebrating Spanish mass or enjoying my childhood, constantly set to a Banda soundtrack and yes, sometimes, I forget the English word for some things, despite it being my first language, especially if I’m excited or nervous.

This White Latina doesn’t have a Spanish accent but I occasionally forget the English word for things. It happens.

While my friends call me Debi and I was born in Ohio, my full name is Deborah. Deh-BOr-AH. Maybe you say it De-BRA but that’s not how I grew up hearing it. I grew up hearing it in my dad’s rich, thick Spanish accent. Or my mother’s sweet, slow southern accent, calling out for Debi Sue when it was time for dinner. My point is that your name does not determine your culture, race or ethnicity. We are who we are and it’s not anyone else’s business or right to judge whether or not we are enough to prove it to you.

I watched Hilaria’s Instagram videos and whether she is Spanish or not, as a Latina, I am not offended. When brown and black people try to “fit in” it’s called assimilation and everyone is cool with that because it’s America and that’s what is expected (always conformity) but the minute a Caucasian dares to speak another language with even a hint of an accent (from living in another country) everyone is up in arms calling bullshit. Madonna’s acquired British accent as a grown-ass woman, I call bullshit on. Someone who spent their formative years living in another country and speaking another language, perfectly plausible. My point is why are all the white people mad that Hilaria might or might not be Spanish? Who gives any fucks? We are in the middle of a pandemic? There are still kids in cages and black men being shot dead in the streets by cops. Hilaria’s (or Hilary’s) accent is the least of any of our worries. If she faked being Latina, the only one who should really be upset is her husband because he was duped thinking he married a Spaniard woman when he didn’t.

If she were trying to dupe people for some gain, appropriating the culture as a native Latino or making a mockery of it and the people, without any of the weight that comes with it, I would be pissed. But I don’t feel that is what she is doing. In fact, I am way more offended by American’s celebrating Cinco de Mayo as an excuse to get wasted, dressing in panchos and straw sombreros at frat parties and sharing those Mexican Word of the day memes than I am by Hilaria Baldwin letting people believe she’s Hispanic. I feel like she loves the culture so much and wants to be a part of it so badly that she let people have their assumptions. If she respects and admires the culture so much so that she has learned the language, lives in the country and embraces its history and people, what is the problem?

READ ALSO: When Racism Happens at School

People assumed that she was from a Spanish speaking European city because she speaks Spanish. Who actually created the issue? Why does it even matter? It isn’t like the situation with Rachel Dolezal who not only pretended to be a black woman but actually took a job that should have belonged to an actual black person. Rachel Dolezal actively lied and stole opportunities from black people; she intentionally hurt them. Hilaria didn’t clear up an assumption; these are different things. So here I am, in defense of Hilaria Baldwin and her Spanish Accent from a White Latina to you.

In the end, Hilaria Baldwin is not a white Latina or a Hispanic woman. She is a Bostonian who speaks Spanish fluently and happens to look like a Spaniard but more than that she is someone who is part of the Spanish community, maybe not by birth or blood but by choice. In the end, why is the world so offended? I’m a Latina and I don’t feel betrayed or hurt by her wanting to belong to my culture. If you are, ask yourself why?

2020/12/31 0 comments

Latina Throat Punch Thursday

Racism in America When White Americans Cry Wolf, Black Americans Die

by Deborah Cruz 2020/05/28

written by Deborah Cruz

“I’m going to tell them there’s an African American man threatening my life.” Those are the words Amy Cooper wielded as a threat to birder, Christian Cooper, when he insisted that she put her dog back on the leash in a leashed dog park in New York’s Central Park in an area called the Ramble, known for its wildlife and birds that live there. But she didn’t just make an idle threat because she was upset that this man dared to ask her to leash her dog, she literally threatened his life with those words and by calling the police. What threat was she under? Not being able to exercise her white privilege.

I keep hearing that we’re all in this together but I know that’s not true. We’re all in a boat in the ocean of life but some are yachts and some are 2 popsicle sticks held together by bubblegum and hope. One thing we all know, whether you are black, brown or white, is that being black or brown in America is dangerous every single day, even during a pandemic which you’d think would be the great equalizer.

If Shakira and JLo Super Bowl Halftime Show Offended You, You Might be a Racist

by Deborah Cruz 2020/02/04

written by Deborah Cruz

Adult women dancing in bodysuits on a public stage is apparently very offensive to some Americans. Not even Shakira and Jennifer Lopez are above the scrutiny of super bowl fans. Monday morning quarterbacks all over Twitter were appalled at JLo and Shakira’s Super Bowl half-time show.

Did JLo and Shakira Super Bowl halftime show offend you?

The whole world is freaking out that JLo and Shakira took the stage dressed in unitards (what most dancers in the world wear when performing. Have you ever seen a ballet?) and gyrated to Latin flared pop music. Oh how the mighty have fallen. So bizarre to me because these prudish, middle class, moms

2020/02/04 1 comment

event planning tips, quinceañera, Disney, Credit Repair, financial security, financial freedom, quinceanera

Latina Lifestyle

Quinceañera Planning Tips You Didn’t Know You Needed

by Deborah Cruz 2020/01/29

written by Deborah Cruz

Estimated reading time: 5 minutes

We are less than 6 weeks away from Bella’s big day. Her quinceañera is something we’ve been planning for years and I can’t believe it’s almost here. For her, it’s the moment our culture recognizes her as changing from a child to a woman. As a mom, it’s a moment of ostentatious pride, which if you know me is not something I ever do. It’s also the opportunity to learn all the event planning tips I didn’t know I needed.

Give me all of your quinceañera planning tips.

I love my daughters more than everything but I’ve never felt the need to brag on them to impress anyone. I know who they are and what they are capable of. I know that they are smart, funny, witty, creative, kind, compassionate, good human beings who love life and care about people and they know that I feel that way about them. I tell them. I just don’t feel like it does anyone any good to boast about them to strangers and put them in competition with anyone else. The only competition I want them to have is to become their own best self. But, make no mistake, I am so proud of my girls and then young ladies they’ve become.

READ ALSO: How to plan a quinceañera

Next month, we’re celebrating Bella’s indoctrination into womanhood with a big party with all of our family and friends. Think of a wedding-like party celebrating how much we love our daughter, how proud we are and how excited we are for all to come for her in her life.

Disclosure: This is a sponsored post written in partnership with Basic Invite. However, all opinions are my own and Bella ( and I) adore her invitations from Basic Invite. They’re everything we’ve dreamed of.

Big life events like a quinceañera are exciting. The energy, the love, the sheer celebration of such a momentous occasion. There’s nothing like it. When you’re hosting the party there are added stresses. In fact, it can be very stressful.

Everyone expects weddings to be challenging to plan, coordinating and organizing all the things is hard. I’m finding that planning Bella’s quinceañera is pretty much the same.

Event planning tips to for the best quinceañera ever

It’s helpful to be organized and to take the time to plan and do research, from choosing the venues to deciding where to shop for the dresses for the quinceañera and damas. There are a few simple tips that we can do to help make the whole process easier on ourselves and get the celebration of our dreams without the anxiety.

Start planning as soon as you set the date… or sooner if you can. Sure, you may not have plans to celebrate your daughter’s quinceañera for several years, but that doesn’t mean that you can’t get planning now. It’s never too early to go on Pinterest and start a wedding planning/quinceañera board with ideas of things you’d like. It’s never too early to start watching hours and hours of quinceañera surprise dances. You can also start looking at venues and booking appointments. Starting early can be the one thing that gets you the date that you want for your event.
Sort out your budget at the very beginning. No need to make big plans with no realistic budget in mind. Before you can start buying anything, you need to know what your budget is and what’s going to tip you over the edge for your big day purchases. The earlier you have a concrete budget outline, the more accurately you can plan your event. This is one of the hardest parts for me.

Get as much of your family and friends involved as you can, from photographer and videographer recommendations to getting to know who’s able and willing to help you with your big day. You need to know which family members are willing to give you a hand with organizing everything from the prevents to the main event. The most important thing is that you enjoy every moment with the people that you love.
Be selective with who you choose to invite. Everyone you’ve ever known doesn’t get to be a guest on your big day. You need to get RSVPs to know how many people you’ll be catering to. Invite the people who you know will show up. Don’t feel obligated to invite everyone you share DNA with or anyone you’ve ever known.

A well-thought-out personalized custom guest book can really be the perfect keepsake for your big day. With almost unlimited colors at Basic Invite, it is one of the few websites that allows customers almost unlimited color options with instant previews online. You can change the color of each element on a card or guest book. With over 180 different color options, your invitations or guestbook can be exactly how you want it, down to the littlest detail, making the little details perfect.
Pick your court early, you’re going to need their help. The planning won’t be as smooth without them by your side. They’ll need dresses and tuxes, makeup and hair. Ask them early and plan accordingly.
Always have a backup plan. Things can and do go wrong, even if that’s the last thing you want to think about. But an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. Your special day can go off perfectly, as long as you do your research.

What is your best tip to make your big day the thing dreams are made of?

2020/01/29 2 comments

My why, why I am working to reverse my diabetes, family, Signs of diabetes, diabetes, diabetes symptoms, type 2 diabetes, how to reverse diabetes

Health Latina

How I Cured Myself of Type 2 Diabetes in 3 Months

by Deborah Cruz 2019/11/18

written by Deborah Cruz

Once upon a time, there was a mom who forgot to take care of herself. She put off physicals, yearly gynecological visits, haircuts and dentist’s visits because everyone else came before herself. She got diabetes, hypertension and high cholesterol, had a heart attack and died obese. She didn’t know the signs of diabetes. She didn’t know type 2 diabetes symptoms. That’s how the story could have gone, still can, if we’re being honest. Make good choices people. And the story could be how that mom worked her tail off, put herself first for the first time in a very long time and figured out how to reverse diabetes in 3 months.

The kids were healthy and never missed a dentist appointment, doctor appointment or even a haircut. They wanted for nothing. Neither did her husband. However, mom always came last. No one asked, or expected, her to do this. She just did.

Diabetes didn’t care how selfless she thought she was.

One day after many years of ignoring her own needs, eating whatever was fast and cheap, not exercising and wearing herself out doing for others, she was diagnosed with type 2 diabetes and hypertension. She is me. I am the mom who forgot to take care of herself. I am a diabetic. Have you forgotten to take care of yourself?

I’m not special. This isn’t an unusual set of circumstances. Many parents, especially moms, put ourselves last because the goal of life is to keep your family alive and healthy. I didn’t know the symptoms of diabetes so I didn’t think anything about it when I was tired after eating a high carb meal. I just thought I was an exhausted mom.

Do you know the signs of diabetes?

The life goal was a good, strong marriage and to raise good human beings. To travel the world and enjoy life. This is the ball that we keep our eyes on. Then one day, it’s too late. Suddenly, the signs of diabetes are everywhere you look and somehow you managed to miss every single one of them. You’ve got a diagnosis or three and shit is about to get really real for you. Hypertension. Diabetes. Anxiety. Depression. High cholesterol. Cancer. A heart attack. A stroke. There are too many diagnoses to mention but if you’re a mom, you’ve probably already gotten a diagnosis or two of your own and maybe you don’t even know it.

So there I sat in May hearing the “wahwahwahwahwahwah” as all the blood rushed to my head, after my doctor delivered the blow, “You are severely diabetic and you need to leave here and go directly to the pharmacist, do not stop, get your prescriptions and take your high blood pressure medicine in the car because you are also super hypertensive and could literally have a stroke at any minute. Also, you are morbidly obese.” *Slightly rephrased because “wahwahwah” was all I heard after she told me that I was severely diabetic. It felt like a death sentence. I could have been. My Uncle Ramon died from his diabetes. Latinos are highly predisposed to diabetes and high blood pressure. Why did I think I was special? I was terrified and depressed. How had it gotten to this point?

Type 2 diabetes doesn’t discriminate.

It was just a “few” bad choices, right? Ate some junk food. Never counted calories. Never counted carbs. Either ate whatever, whenever or never ate at all. Never “had time” to exercise. Ignored the symptoms or poopoo’ed them away because who has time for such luxuries as being sick and getting well. I have places to be, people to see and children and husband and the PTA who all depend on me.

Spoiler alert: The world will not implode if you take a few days off and take care of yourself. People can pick up the slack and figure shit out if they need to. No one will hate you (and if they do, so what). Generally, people are pretty good and they really do want the best for you but people only treat you the way you allow them to. If you show them a martyr, superwoman then they are going to push you like a martyr superwoman. Pssst, it’s ok to be human.

But you don’t me to tell you that. You need me to tell you how I changed all of that. How I went from a morbidly obese, hypertensive diabetic to a mom on a mission who reversed her diabetes in 3 months. Sounds easy right? Like turning a car around but it’s anything but. Being a diabetic is a serious condition and can have serious health ramifications so if you have been warned that you are “prediabetic” take it seriously.

Being prediabetic is a major diabetes symptom red flag. Don’t ignore it.

Soon, you will drop the “pre” and just be a full-blown diabetic and your doctor will be checking your feet to see if you’ve lost feeling and never allowed to go barefoot again. You’ll have to have a special diabetic eye exam to make sure you’re not going blind and will never see your children’s beautiful faces again. You’ll have to count your carbs and work out like your life depends on it because it does. I was prediabetic before I was diabetic and I did nothing about it. That “pre” gave me a false sense of safety.

What did I do to reverse my diabetes? Yes, reverse because you can’t cure. Diabetes is incurable. You either live with it and die from it or you do what you need to and reverse it and get back to a non-diabetic state but whatever damage has already been done, has been done and you can always become diabetic again if you start making those wrong choices again. That’s my warning, that’s my real talk.

How to reverse diabetes

Putting Yourself First

The first thing you have to do is make yourself a priority in your own life. Really. You won’t be alive to take care of or love and be loved by anyone if you don’t take care of yourself because you will be dead. Diabetes can kill you. Type 2 diabetes is completely controllable and reversible but you have to care about and love yourself enough to put your health above everything and everyone else. It sounds impossible but it’s not. With the love and support of those you love, you can do it.

Medicine

If you’re like me, you hate to take medicine. It sucks. Everything has side effects. You’ve seen the commercials; to help alleviate your depression you may become suicidal and to alleviate your migraine you can go blind. They have to list every side effect ever. But sometimes you need medicine from the Canadian Pharmacy to survive or at least until you can work towards getting healthy enough to not need it. I’m not on insulin but I was prescribed medication to control my diabetes and my high blood pressure, along with a plan to eat healthy, count carbs and exercise. There is no easy fix. A pill cannot fix everything. A pill is a Band-Aid to help you get well enough to get healthy.

Working Out

This is hard. Starting is overwhelming but it’s not impossible. When you’re a mom, especially, trying to find the time to work out can feel like trying to find time to do your nails or get a massage, non-existent. Remember when I was talking about putting yourself first? This is part of that. Just move. It doesn’t matter how. I started with a Beachbody workout (dancing), then I threw in some BBG ab work. My mom kept urging me to “just walk” and I thought it sounded too simple. I was hesitant but it was doable and it gave me time every morning to reflect and get my mind right. 50 pounds later, mom was right. It was simple. Don’t overcomplicate things. Just move. I document my daily walks on InstaStories to keep myself accountable. If your diabetes has caused swelling in your feet and makes it uncomfortable or painful to take walks or exercise, I suggest using a pair of diabetic socks.

Join me on Instagram to follow along as I reverse diabetes. We can get healthy together.

Eating Healthy

Not going to lie, this was hard because eating healthy means being mindful of what you put into your body and investing in yourself because healthy food is not cheap. It is so much more affordable and convenient to buy a McDonald’s dollar menu meal than it is to go to the grocery store, buy fresh produce and lean protein, cook it and eat it after a long day at work. And that is how we’ve gotten to 30 million Americans with diabetes. Most people start showing symptoms of diabetes after the age of 45 but there are more and more children, teens and young adults who are getting diagnosed. By taking care of ourselves and choosing more carefully what to put into our bodies, we are affecting our families and their health too.

I’m not saying you have to make perfect, healthy choices every single day. I’m not saying to deprive yourself. I’m saying to be mindful of your choices and how what you do affects your body. The most important thing is to not let a little blip derail your whole program. A blip is just a blip. Move on and get back to your plan. You can do this.

Drink Your Water

Yes, water weight is a thing and drinking enough water is good for your body in so many ways. It helps flush toxins and maintain the balance of body fluids. It just makes you feel better. You should be drinking a minimum of 64 ounces of water a day. I drink closer to 100 because it’s the only thing I really drink aside from coffee and tea.

Counting Carbs

I’ve never been one who could stick to Keto or no carbs. I love carbs. Bread might be my love language. But the thing is carbs are in everything; fruit, vegetables, rice, milk, meat and sauces. But yeah, there are a lot of carbs in bread so choose wisely.

My doctor gave me a finite amount of carbs each day to consume. 45 per meal, 15 per snack, three times per day for each. Now, it’s like money, I can spend it my carbs wisely on lean proteins and fresh produce or I can waste it on a snickers bar. You can see that a grilled chicken breast, asparagus, watermelon and brown rice would be more filling than a Snickers bar. Mostly we should choose the balanced meal but if you want to choose the Snickers bar occasionally, that’s ok. Just not all day and not every day.

Portion control

Last but, definitely, not least is portion control. Before I had no idea what correct portions were. The portions that most restaurants serve are not the right sized portion for an adult human. They are often double and sometimes even triple the portion size, carbs and calories that we need. So, I started reading labels and measuring. I know, it sounds like a pain in the ass and it is but so is being dead when you want to be alive. Soon, you will learn the right portions and you won’t need to measure everything anymore. Before you know it, you will be eating for fuel and only until you are full not until you are stuffed. I used to east mindlessly and that’s how I got to where I was. Now, I am thoughtful about my choices; what I eat and how often I move.

This is how I reversed my diabetes in 3 months. It’s been 6 months since I was diagnosed with diabetes and hypertension. It’s been 3 months since I reversed it all. I will have to be mindful of my choices and work on my health every day for the rest of my life but now, it’s a habit. I look forward to it because I know I’m working towards being a better me. I feel better and I’ve lost 50 pounds. My goal is to lose 70 more pounds and to do a 5K in 2020. Did I mention by listening to my mom I’ve been walking a 5K every morning, 4-5 days a week? It’s the best part of my day and I’ve done it in everything from 20 degrees to rain, snow and 110 degrees. It’s hard but I’m worth it and so are you!

My why, why I am working to reverse my diabetes, family, Signs of diabetes, diabetes, diabetes symptoms, type 2 diabetes, how to reverse diabetes

This is how I reversed my diabetes in 3 months and saved my life. Are you taking care of yourself? Why not? You deserve to be alive and happy and most certainly, healthy. You are worth the investment. I know, as moms, we put everyone else above us, it’s in our DNA but remember your why. My family, my girls and the Big Guy, are my “why” but I have to take care of me to be here to love and be loved by them. I have to love me to be able to love them. It’s simple. Take care of yourself before it’s too late.

2019/11/18 1 comment

Latina

Just Add Torani Best Iced Café Bombón Recipe Ever

by Deborah Cruz 2019/09/06

written by Deborah Cruz

Disclosure: This is a compensated partnership with Torani but all opinions and this iced Café Bombón recipe are my own.

Coffee is my jam. It’s something I’ve been drinking all of my adult life, and if we’re being quite honest, something I’ve been sipping from my parent’s coffee mugs since I was a child. There is something special about the creamy goodness of a good cup of hot water and a coffee brew bag that reminds me of home. Nothing reminds me more of home than Café Bombón.

I remember my dad and uncles drinking Café Bombón at night after dinner at the dining room table while having late-night conversations filled with laughter and reminiscing. I have fond memories of my mom and aunts playing gin rummy and Yahtzee while sipping on Café Bombón and all of this makes my heart happy. Every time I take a drink of Café Bombón those memories are what flood my mind and fill my soul.

What is Café Bombón, you ask? It is literally, candy coffee.

What makes it different from your typical cup of coffee? That would be the sweetened condensed milk. What makes it extra delicious? That would be the Torani salted caramel syrup that I add to mine.

To be honest, I thought “Café Bombón” was how everyone drank coffee because it was the only way I ever saw it drank. The same way I thought everyone made their grilled cheese sandwiches sprinkled with a little sugar on the cheese (made with love as my mom used to tell us). Yep, apparently, my Latino dad and my southern mom made up their own rules along the way.

Typically, Café Bombón is made by simply using 1 ounce of espresso and 1 ounce of sweetened condensed milk. Simple. You can sip it or shoot it, depending on your caffeine needs that day. As I’ve gotten older, I need a little more caffeine to start my day so the 1 to 1 ratio needs to be upped for me in the morning and I like to put mine over ice in the warmer months for drinking convenience.

Café Bombón Recipe

Ingredients:

2 ounces of Espresso or strong coffee
2 ounces of sweetened condensed milk
2 ounces of Torani salted caramel syrup (if you prefer your Café Bombón less sweet, up the coffee ratio to 3 ounces.)
1 ounce of half and half
½ cup of ice

Instructions:

1. Pour sweetened condensed milk over ice.
2. Pour Torani salted caramel syrup over sweetened condensed milk.
3. Add espresso to top.
4. If you have a milk frother, froth 1 ounce of half and half.
5. Pour frothed milk over espresso.
6. You should see distinct layers of ingredients.
7. Enjoy with family and friends.
**I prefer to mix my Café Bombón all up and blend the flavors more evenly but it tastes delicious either way.

It’s that simple and even more delicious. By adding the Torani salted caramel syrup to the traditional Café Bombón, it completely elevates the flavor profile. The great thing about Torani is that is mixes well to bring out the best in your Café Bombón without overpowering everything else. Torani is made with real, simple ingredients that you can recognize.

To make this delicious and easy Café Bombón recipe find Torani at your local Kroger grocery store or online at Torani.com.

What is your favorite Torani flavored syrup for your coffee?

2019/09/06 3 comments

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