For as long as I can remember, my mornings in Miami began with a small cup of Cuban coffee. For 20 years, I've returned to the same coffee shop, which offers a sense of home, even though I have no roots in Cuba. Café cubano is a staple for everyone in Miami, whether they’re Cuban or not. My identity, much like café cubano, is a melting pot of cultures other than my own. It is shaped more by assimilation than lineage.
For starters, my father’s side is Jewish—Goldstein turned Golden when my ancestors immigrated during WWII—but I was never taught the faith. My mother, though Colombian at birth, was shaped by her travels in Europe and chose to enroll me in a French elementary school when I was 2. I learned fundamentals like math and reading in a language that was never spoken at home, while my Spanish faded until I could only manage basic interactions with maternal relatives.
This left me with a heritage that feels disjointed: a language I struggle to hold onto, a faith I never followed, and a city that shaped me more than the places I am tied to by blood. Instead of a single cultural identity, I exist between cultures—never fully belonging, yet never completely separated. 

Just as Miami adopted cafecito from Cuba, I’ve embraced cultures I don't inherently belong to. This tiny cup of liquid joy makes me feel at home. It reminds me that belonging isn’t always inherited. It can be found in the spaces we choose to embrace.

– Francesca Golden

Relationship:  Im/migrant who arrived as a child Im/migrant who arrived as a child