Lifestyle: In Practice

My gold hoops sing louder than my voice when I’m told to be quiet. They clink in church, shimmer on the subway, and carry my mother’s legacy through every loop and shine. Dominican girls don’t do minimalism—we layer colors, fabrics, laughter, and history. Where others see chaos, we see home. I am my island’s treasure, loud and golden, taking up space because that’s what Dominican women were born to do.

My mom has given me life-saving advice in between flipping tostones and yelling at the TV. Some of it made no damn sense at the time—don’t sleep over anyone’s house porque nunca sabes? I thought she was paranoid. Turns out, she was right. Turns out, my mom saw danger way before I could spell it. Her consejos were layered with fear, love, culture, and survival. Now, as a grown woman walking through this wild world, I carry those words like armor.

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.