How to know you’re Latin


Little known fact, unless you know me personally of course, is that I’m latin. Well, not a 100% but close. I’ll save you the full genealogy lesson though…I was born in the Caribbean but mommy dearest is from Venezuela so she raised me (and my little sister) like any other Venezuelan kid. So I decided to make a list of some things that I know for a fact happen in most (if not all) latino households. 

1) Misbehave and you will meet your mom’s (or grandma’s) CHANCALETA! There’s no item more feared than a could be in your room and your mom’s in the kitchen and that chancleta will still find a way to hit you.

2) Having to hear “As long as you live under my roof…” when you act like you’re grown. Think you turned 18 or 21 and now you’re gonna do anything you want? Coming home late at night? Having your gf/bf stay over? Drinking and/or smoking? NOT AS LONG AS YOU LIVE UNDER THEIR ROOF!

3) Having to stay quiet and not disturb AT ALL when your mom, tia or abuela is watching the novela. Disturb them and you will most likely get the infamous chancleta (or the closest item) thrown at your head. If you’re a tiny bit luckier than that, they will just totally ignore any attempts at a conversation you make.

4) Eating beans at least once a week. Lentejas, caraotas, garbanzos, you name it. Latinos love beans! When I was a child, I was definitely not fond of most beans and my mom wouldn’t let me leave the table until I was done. Guess which stubborn kid spent the whole afternoon sitting at the table…

5) Speaking of food, tostones a.k.a patacones! If you haven’t had one of these, you’re missing out! Fried green plantains <3<3<3 I’m drooling right now… tostones go with everything and are heaven on earth.

6) Having to say hello to at least 20 to 30 relatives at family parties. Latin families tend to be huge and when there’s something so celebrate. The whole family will be there! As a kid, there’s nothing worse than having to kiss and hug 10 tias, 15 cousins, your two abuelas and god knows who else.

7) Having a never ending list of chores you have to finish before your mom lets you go out. Every time I asked my mom for permission to go somewhere she pulled out a mental list of things she wanted me to do before I left. Instead of 1 hour it would take me 2 hours to leave the house because I was doing dishes, cleaning my room (cleaning most of the house for that matter) or hanging the laundry out to dry.

Living in a latin household most of my life was THE BEST. Latin moms are crazy, loud, they nag a lot and their chanclas are lethal…but I love my mom to death and wouldn’t change anything about the way she raised me.

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