Lifestyle: In Practice

Uniform was optional, getting yelled at wasn’t. Field trips blurred together, but the joy was real—Taki fingers, shared earbuds, cracked bus seats. Then came the pleated skirts, shiny black shoes, and tuition that cost more than some made in a year. This is the story of both—where public school gave me heart, and private school handed me the rules.

I’m not overreacting, you’ve just never experienced a Dominican mother’s anger with a chancleta before. The precision in the throw, the sting in the hit. I want to be soft and cared for, but also strong and grounded. I’m not angry, I’m Dominican. I’m not loud, I’m Dominican. This isn’t just rage—it’s memory, it’s inherited fire, it’s love, it’s survival. This is my softness and my rebellion, all in one breath.