I was born and raised in Quito Ecuador, a country and city notorious for being almost entirely insignificant, and equally unjust. My younger childhood consisted of a justified over-paranoia - defined by a fear of the known: kidnappings, robbings, and worse. I found comfort in guard dogs and glass-barbed walls. But I equally found support in the love of my single mother, grandmother, uncle and siblings.
When I immigrated to the United States, I didn’t know what to expect - save that it would be “better” and that it would have snow. But I realized that “better” would be just as terrifying as the “known”, and that the mystic wonder of snow would go away as soon as I felt how damn cold it was.
Doubtful thoughts were at every street corner: People were nice - what were their intentions? Normally unobtainable things were cheaper - what’s the catch? No pandeyuca? What do you mean you can't find that here? The distrust I developed stayed for a very long time. But as we slowly integrated with Longmont, Colorado, the barbed walls fell away. I became comfortable in our unwalled house, the maintained streets, the all American local shops, and the calling card of urban sprawl: skyscrapers replaced by ugly strip malls.
I eventually lost that paranoia. It was replaced by an incessant desire to explore, a desire that my locationally traumatized family didn’t want me to fulfill, purely out of fear. Eventually, the characteristics of Quito, Ecuador left me. I forgot its sounds, its architecture, its mountains and its awe inspiring scale. They were both purposefully and accidentally forgotten. I stumbled with my culture, my accent and my family. I resented the protectiveness of my family, and I didn’t speak Spanish for 6 years - all in the pursuit of fitting in. My normal was what I saw my classmates do, not the food I ate or the hacienda style decorations at home.
In high school I finally realized that my “self” was not being fulfilled by the person I pretended I was, and that the facade based on my location had seeped into every pore of my body. At that point, I understood that my being and my true “self” were not satisfied in the cultural norms of Mountain America or Ecuador, but were instead defined by my experience of both. I had seen two different sides of the same earth, both physically and socially. I don't claim that I’ve found my true sense of place, but I do know that my abilities as a musician, writer, and student are defined in my experience of those two very different cities.
- Juan Miguel