I was born and raised in Curaçao until the age of 18—a life filled with beach days, family gatherings, school, church, Karnaval, Tambú, and endless festivities. I lived on the island until ‘99, and the ‘90s felt like the golden years—before cell phones and social media dictated our every move. Life was organic, rich, and full of culture. Curaçao itself is a cultural powerhouse, but what makes it truly unique is the diversity within.
The island’s subcultures shaped me into a multicultural enthusiast, embracing the beauty of differences from an early age. I grew up glued to telenovelas from Venezuela, Colombia, and Mexico, absorbing each culture as if it were my own. Our island’s deep ties to neighboring South American and Caribbean countries, its status as a Dutch territory, and the ever-present cultural influence of the U.S. made for a colorful, rhythmic upbringing.
Merengue, Bachata, Hip Hop, RnB, Reggaeton, and local Ritmo Kombina weren’t just sounds—they were expressions of identity.
Being surrounded by so much cultural richness gave me something invaluable: A global perspective. An openness to difference. A foundation of acceptance.
Moving to the U.S. deepened my love for Curaçao. I became more patriotic. Distance has a way of sharpening appreciation, making you notice the things you once took for granted. Overhearing a mom shout, “Mucha para’ki!” Your grandmother making Papa’i Maishi. Gathering at the same spot every year for Karnaval. Birthday parties with the family, where you’d sneak a few sips of Ponche Crema. Jump-ups with friends. Graduation with classmates and much more. For the first decade, I was able to be deeply connected to my friends and family through calls, visits, and endless stories exchanged, helping me hold on to that sense of belonging. But moving through several cities, adapting to new cultures, working in an industry that rarely allows for days off, and learning to connect deeply with my surroundings forced me to prioritize the present.
Additionally, my perspective on connection shifted. Over time, there were too many transactional dynamics and surface-level exchanges. So, I learned to set boundaries. I naturally missed home. Living overseas however, expanded my mindset challenging my adaptability and redefined my sense of belonging—a delicate balance. While no one forgets where they come from, life in a new country inevitably shapes how you move, act, and react. And the country you’re trying to survive and thrive in brings the reality of navigating a new world while chasing your dreams.
Over the years, I’ve noticed a pattern of conformity—one that might not be unique to my experience but feels deeply personal. I’ve mentioned before that I moved to the States between the late ‘90s and early 2000s—pre-digital platforms. Back then, the world felt bigger, less connected, and access to knowledge and opportunities wasn’t just a few clicks away.
Now, digital platforms have shrunk the world, making cultures more visible and knowledge more accessible. But at the time, moving to America from an island of only 140,000 people was a huge leap. Being part of a culture that eagerly consumes global influences has always been a great way to explore the world, and I embraced it.
But over the years, I realized I had passenger-sided my own culture too much—not because I wanted to, but because it wasn’t as loud, as dominant, or as present as the cultures around me. Many of my peers came from countries with millions in population; their presence alone carried weight. So, adapting, blending, and making space became the norm.
In doing so, I minimized the things that made me extraordinary. Speaking four languages? Brushed it off. Understanding cultural references across multiple regions? Normalized it. Navigating different worlds effortlessly? Conformed to belong.
It became a slow, quiet conditioning—until I realized I was shelving myself.
So, what is my experience like being in between cultures? It’s fun, hard, rewarding, and challenging—all at once. A deep dive I’ve come to see as necessary for my growth.
I call it being multidimensional—not just as a word, but as a truth I embody. I collect experiences because wisdom lives in culture, in the way our journeys cross and shape each other.
The places I’ve lived and traveled to have taught me how to adapt without losing myself. Moving fluidly through the world isn’t about blending in—it’s about carrying a deep-rooted certainty of where you come from.
Being a global citizen doesn’t make me any less Curaçaoan. If anything, it has deepened my connection to my roots while expanding my perspective. My foundation has never wavered—it has only evolved, strengthened, and anchored itself more firmly in this phase of my life.
Wandering opens doors, but it also presents choices. Are you willing to lose, in order to gain?
“We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started, and know the place for the first time.”
—T.S. Eliot
