Anjali’s Story: You Are Enough Just As You Are

Anjali sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the photograph of her family that sat on her nightstand. In it, she was just a little girl. Her curly hair bouncing as she grinned in the arms of her mom, who was holding her close in front of a vibrant Puerto Rican flag. Around them were cousins, aunts, and uncles, all laughing and speaking rapidly in Spanish. Her mom's words echoed in her head, “Siempre recuerda de dónde vienes, mija. Tienes la sangre de nuestros ancestros dentro de ti, sangre de Taino, y eso es un orgullo. Never forget where you come from, you have the blood of our ancestors in you, blood of the Taino, and that is something to be proud of.” Yet, as she looked at the picture now, she couldn’t help but feel lost, isolated, like she never belonged.

Her skin, dark like the night sky, had always been the thing that set her apart. Too dark for her cousins, too “different” for the Puerto Rican side of her family. They would sometimes glance at her curiously when she struggled to keep up with their fast-paced conversations like they were questioning if she truly understood the language or if she was truly one of them. It was as if they saw the darkness in her skin and forgot she was part of them. She wasn’t Puerto Rican enough. And at school, it was the opposite—they saw her skin and immediately assumed she was “just Black.” They never asked her about her other side. Yet she was too Puerto Rican to be fully accepted into the Black community, but too “Black” to feel fully at home with her Puerto Rican family.

She hated the feeling of being stuck in between, always torn between two worlds, never feeling fully at home in either. At times, Anjali felt like she had to choose. But how could she choose when both parts of her were so deeply woven into who she was?

It wasn’t until a conversation with her Abuelita, her grandmother, that things began to shift. They were sitting on the porch one evening, the warm evening air of Puerto Rico surrounding them. Anjali was staring out at the horizon, lost in her thoughts when her abuela’s voice cut through the silence.

“You know, Mija,” her abuelita began softly, “I’ve spent my whole life living between two worlds. The world of my island, and the world of this land. Neither one of them fully accepted me, but I never let that stop me from being who I am. You don’t have to choose, Anjali. You are both, and thats what makes you strong. Never let anyone make you feel like you have to pick just one part of yourself. Your roots are in both places. You are both Black and Puerto Rican. Embrace who you are.”

The words struck Anjali like a lightning bolt. Embrace who you are. For the first time, it felt like someone understood. She didn’t have to choose. She could be both. She could love her Afro roots and love her Puerto Rican heritage without feeling like she was betraying one or the other. The feeling of being torn between two sides slowly began to fade, replaced by the realization that both sides made her whole.

Still, it wasn’t easy. Back home in Georgia, in the small town where she went to school, people still asked, “What are you, exactly?” Her classmates often assumed she was just “Black,” and she could feel the judgment in their eyes when she didn’t fit their idea of what being Black was supposed to look like. She’d tried to speak up about her Puerto Rican side once, but it felt like no one was really listening. Her Black peers would sometimes tease her, saying, “You’re not Black enough to understand.” The weight of those words used to crush her, making her want to hide both parts of herself.

One afternoon, in her senior year of high school, Anjali sat in the cafeteria, listening to a heated conversation about identity. A few girls at the table were talking about how they were proud of their African heritage, sharing stories of family traditions, food, and music. It was supposed to be empowering, but all Anjali could think about was how they never talked about the other part of her. The Puerto Rican part.

That night, she sat at her desk and opened her journal, the words flowing out like they’d been waiting to be said for years. I am both. I am Puerto Rican and Black. And that’s enough.

The next day, she decided to speak up. At lunch, Anjali stood up and shared a piece of herself with her classmates. “I’m not just Black. I’m Puerto Rican, too. And both of those parts make me who I am. I’m not going to hide either part of myself anymore.” The words surprised even her, but as she spoke, a sense of relief washed over her. For the first time, she was fully claiming all of who she was—every bit of it.

The response wasn’t what she expected. Some classmates were quiet, unsure of how to respond, but one girl, her close friend since elementary school, smiled and said, “I didn’t know that. That’s really cool, Anjali. Thanks for sharing that with us.” It wasn’t a groundbreaking moment, but it was a moment of freedom. Anjali didn’t need anyone else’s permission to be who she was.

In the months that followed, Anjali continued to grow more comfortable in her own skin. She spent more time with her Puerto Rican family, learning the songs and stories of her island, and she immersed herself in the Black community, finding strength in the shared experiences of her people. She learned to dance salsa as easily as she loved a good hip-hop beat. She cooked rice and beans with her mom and made fried chicken and collards with her aunt. She learned the stories of her ancestors, both from Africa and Puerto Rico, and she found beauty in how they intertwined.

Her identity no longer felt like a burden—it felt like a gift.

Now, when someone asked her, “What are you?” Anjali smiled softly and answered, “I’m Puerto Rican and Black. And that’s all I need to be.” And she meant it. Because for the first time in her life, Anjali knew who she was. She was both. And that was more than enough.

To anyone who feels like they don’t belong, like they’re stuck in between worlds, let me tell you this: You don’t have to fit into anyone else’s idea of who you should be. You are enough, just as you are. Your heritage, your culture, your story—they’re yours to embrace. Be proud of every part of you, because all of it is beautiful.

And if anyone ever questions you, just remind them:

I am who I am, and that's more than enough.