05/10/2026
I'm the granddaughter of a Cuban immigrant.
Before Castro took over and changed everything, my great-grandparents left Cuba and came to the United States. They came from a long line of distinguished dermatologists. They had careers, a home, family, friends - a whole life they'd built for themselves. And they left it behind anyway.
My grandmother was in her early teens when they came to America. And then, almost as quickly as they got here, an error made by their immigration attorney forced them back to Cuba - not knowing when or if they'd ever be allowed to return.
I cannot imagine the fear of that. To finally make it out. To finally feel hopeful. And then to have your entire future thrown right back into turmoil.
Eventually, they made it back to the States. My grandmother earned her US citizenship when my mom was 2. Then she earned her college degree while raising two toddlers. When she first immigrated, she barely spoke English. By the time I came along, she was so fluent she didn't have a single trace of a foreign accent.
My great-grandmother, however, never fully learned English. I mainly remember her smile and her talking to me in Spanish while I smiled back, pretending I understood her. And that memory hits differently now that I'm older.
Because when you're little, you don't realize the adults around you had entire lives before you existed. You don't realize your great-grandmother once had a whole identity in another country. You don't realize she probably missed home for the rest of her life.
I remember one day, years ago, my brothers and I whining about something stupid. Just absolutely carrying on. My mom finally snapped and said: "Your family came here on a freaking boat. Surely you can do hard things too."
The older I get, the more emotional that statement makes me. Because she was right.
The women before me sacrificed in ways I will never comprehend. They gave up comfort, familiarity, careers, language, home - all so future generations (me) could have choices. And because they did, I get to live a life where "hard" looks like overflowing inboxes, packed schedules, and building my own business.
What an unbelievable privilege that is.
The women before me carried survival so the women after them could carry ambition and possibility instead. Knowing that changes you. It changes how you think. It makes you more grateful. More aware of just how much was given to you before you ever even existed.
So. Cheers to the moms who came before us, the fellow moms beside us, and the moms still to come. The ones who sacrificed. The ones still building. The ones making sure the next generation has even more choices than they did.
Happy Mother's Day. 🤍
