Despite the label being integrated in my name, Faith Exsposito Brocke, I often forget that I’m 25% Mexican, courtesy of my father. It feels like such a minor detail in the grand scheme of things, as opposed to how overtly important my Blackness is.

Recognizing the disconnect from my culture during Hispanic Heritage Month, designed solely for embracing my heritage, is somewhat oxymoronic, but it’s hard to not acknowledge just how uninformed I am about an entire fourth of what makes me who I am.

I don’t really identify with the labels mixed or biracial; I’m surrounded by my African-American roots and culture, down to my hair or the food I cook and devour so eagerly.

Being Mexican isn’t entirely foreign to me, as I grew up in a predominantly Latin-American community. Spanish was just as common as English, if not moreso, and several traditional holidays were celebrated in the same fashion as Easter and Thanksgiving.

That being said, I often don’t feel that I’m Mexican enough to associate myself with the community and everything that it entails. I can’t speak Spanish beyond the basics, I’ve had enchiladas maybe once in my life, and I don’t have any family that could really guide me towards a space of acceptance and comfort.

So during this month, I am choosing to rethink my approach to Hispanic Heritage Month—it is no longer about how little I know, and instead, how much I have to learn.