Teaching My Daughters to See Themselves in Our History

Yesterday, I took my daughters to a museum.

It wasn't just a day out.

It was a moment I wanted them to remember.

As a father, I believe there are some things you have to show your children, not just tell them.

Walking through the museum, we saw paintings, photographs, statues, and religious artwork depicting people, families, mothers, children, workers, faith, struggle, and everyday life.

And as I looked at these works, I couldn't help but think about my daughters and their own story.

Our story.

We are Afro-Latino.

That means our history doesn't fit neatly into one box.

There are African roots. Latino roots. Indigenous influences. European influences. Caribbean influences. And generations of people whose lives, sacrifices, traditions, and cultures helped create who we are today.

Sometimes the world wants us to choose one identity.

But we don't have to choose.

We can be Black and Latino.

We can embrace our African heritage while celebrating our Latino culture.

We can recognize the influence of Africa throughout Latin America and the Caribbean and understand that Black people have always been part of the Latino story.

That is something I want my daughters to understand while they're young.

Looking at these paintings, I saw more than beautiful artwork.

I saw mothers carrying their children.

I saw people working.

I saw families trying to make a life.

I saw faith.

I saw hardship.

I saw strength.

I saw culture being carried from one generation to another.

And I thought about how much of our culture is passed down the same way.

Through our parents.

Through our grandparents.

Through food.

Through music.

Through stories.

Through traditions.

Through the things we sometimes don't even realize are part of us.

One of the paintings we saw showed a mother carrying her child while going about her daily life. Another showed people moving through a landscape, carrying what they could with them.

Those images stayed with me.

Because sometimes culture is exactly that—carrying something forward.

Our ancestors carried their language.

They carried their faith.

They carried recipes.

They carried music.

They carried traditions.

They carried their memories.

And somehow, through generations of change, struggle, migration, and adaptation, pieces of those cultures made their way to us.

Now it's our turn to carry them forward.

And that's why I brought my daughters to the museum.

I want them to know that their heritage isn't just something we celebrate during Hispanic Heritage Month.

It's part of who they are every day.

I want them to see people who look like them.

I want them to understand that Blackness exists throughout the Latino world.

I want them to know that Afro-Latino history is Latino history.

And I want them to grow up knowing that there is nothing they need to hide, separate, or apologize for.

Every part of them belongs.

As a father, I know I can't teach them everything in one museum visit.

But I can give them experiences.

I can expose them to art.

I can tell them stories.

I can cook the food.

I can introduce them to music.

I can answer their questions.

And I can help them understand that their identity is something worth knowing and celebrating.

Yesterday, I wasn't just taking my daughters to see paintings.

I was giving them another piece of their history.

Another piece of their identity.

Another reminder that they come from people who created beauty, raised families, built communities, held onto their faith, worked hard, survived difficult circumstances, and continued to pass their culture forward.

That is what heritage means to me.

It's not just looking backward.

It's making sure the next generation knows what they are carrying forward.

So this Hispanic Heritage Month, I celebrate the beauty, complexity, and richness of Latino culture.

And as an Afro-Latino father, I especially celebrate the African roots woven throughout our story.

I want my daughters to know that their heritage is beautiful.

Their history is important.

Their culture matters.

Their African roots matter.

Their Latino roots matter.

And they never have to choose between the two.

Yesterday, I took my daughters to a museum.

But what I really wanted to show them was something much bigger:

You come from somewhere.
You belong to something.
Your history matters.
Your culture matters.
And every part of who you are is worth celebrating.

I hope they remember that day.

Not because of the paintings we saw.

But because someday, when they're older, I hope they'll understand why I took them.

I wasn't just showing them art.

I was showing them pieces of themselves.

Happy Hispanic Heritage Month.

Honor the ancestors. Celebrate the culture. Teach the children. Carry the story forward.