Lifestyle: In Practice

Spanish lives in my hellos and goodbyes, in domino games with my tíos, in memories of piña coladas and mangú. I was the girl who stopped speaking Spanish at five, who traded merengue for iced coffee and skyscrapers, but still sneaks bachata into her cleaning playlists. Between two worlds, I write my rebellion in Spanglish. I am still Dominicana, even when I dream in English.

In Loving Someone in Spanglish, Grace Sofia explores how love carries memory—songs sung by mothers and abuelas, healing rituals of gargara and VaporRub, recipes passed down through kitchens, and kisses once dodged but now given freely. To love in Spanglish is to weave English and Spanish, New York and the Dominican Republic, childhood and adulthood—tender fragments that reveal care in every gesture.

There’s something sacred about pushing a red cart down the aisles of Target when your brain feels like a battlefield. For me, these trips aren’t about consumerism — they’re about survival. A new lip gloss, some eucalyptus-scented body wash, a candle I’ll never light — these aren’t luxuries, they’re lifelines. When everything feels too heavy, Target gives me the illusion of control, a ritual of joy, and just enough peace to make it to next week.

I wasn’t asking for a fantasy—I just wanted honesty. But when men act like boyfriends and refuse to give you the title, it’s not romance, it’s manipulation. Swift gave me the world, but not his word. This is what I learned: confusion is not chemistry, it’s a red flag waving in your face. I don’t do placeholders anymore. If it’s not clear, it’s cut.

I don’t believe in perfection, I believe in intention. In crying on the bathroom floor with my tits out and God still pulling me into His arms. I believe in girls who hex their exes and still pray for their nieces’ safety. I believe in rage, in contradiction, in horny heartbreak and petty healing. I believe in heaven for the girls who curse and cry and come and still try to do better the next day. God doesn’t want a perfect woman—He wants an honest one. And I’m her.