Growing up, for the longest while, I didn’t have the same level of appreciation for my heritage as I do currently. My mother was born and raised in Mexico, and my dad, born in Brooklyn, spent a good chunk of his childhood in Puerto Rico. Though I was only a toddler, I have vague memories of living in California, a time in which I am told I spoke Spanish nearly fluently. My grandparents and aunts and uncles visited frequently and I was always immersed in our Hispanic background. However, when I was almost five we made the move up North to Michigan. English quickly became my first language and as I got older, and as it is expected, the media began to heavily influence me. I became obsessed with the Disney princesses and Barbie like most young girls. Yet looking back on my childhood now, I am slightly disturbed by how impressionable I was. I’d watch all these movies and never see myself reflected. I wanted blue eyes and blonde hair like Aurora and Barbie or even red hair like Ariel. It seemed my favorite characters were always the ones furthest from me physically, and instead of accepting that they were just characters, I wanted to physically change myself. I wanted to look like them. I never saw myself in the movies I watched or in the dolls I played with, given my dark hair and dark eyes anywhere. This affected my self -esteem profoundly as well as my sense of identity. Media outlets that seemed to ignore minority groups had me wishing I was someone else, but I was able to regain pride in my cultural background with the help of other forms of entertainment.