My first memory of feeling different goes back to when I was about 8 years old. We lived in a neighborhood mostly made up of Cuban families who were middle-class. My parents worked hard to move us up into the middle class too, and eventually, we got our own house. But what made us stand out was that we were Black Cubans. You see, everyone else in our neighborhood was Cuban too, but they were all white Cubans who left Cuba for different reasons. So even though we were from the same place, we still felt and were treated as different.

My dad was the reason we were accepted when we first moved there. He was also Cuban but was white. My mom, on the other hand, was a dark-skin Cuban woman with African roots. She had a strong personality and an even stronger opinion and wasn’t liked by most of our neighbors, which made it hard for us to “fit in”.

Like many people on our block, my dad practiced what most people called Santeria, but it’s really called Regla de Ocha. Regla de Ocha is a religion that came with Cuban immigrants to the United States. It’s not usually practiced openly, and only those who are part of the religion can take part in its ceremonies. Because my dad was respected in these groups, I got to attend some ceremonies and see what went on behind closed doors. So, you could say that my dad’s religious practices were my first introduction to spirituality. And being around those ceremonies always made me feel like I understood the true spirit of things.

But my most powerful memory of connecting with spirit happened one night in my room. I shared a room with my younger brother, who was about 5 at the time. I must have been around 10. I woke up from what I thought was a bad dream about being killed. In the dream, I was an older woman driving a car on the highway when another car crashed into us, instantly killing me and my passenger. But when I woke up, I didn’t feel scared. Instead, I felt like I had come back to this world with special abilities.

I sat on my bed for what felt like eternity, feeling like God had given me special powers. I tried to move things with my mind and imagined myself as someone who could heal people. I was so sure of it that the next morning, I told my mom about it. But she blamed my dad for putting such ideas in my head and wouldn’t let me go to any more Regla de Ocho ceremonies.

However, my dad would still take me to these ceremonies without my mother’s knowledge. It was in these sacred spaces that I began to sense energies and connect with something deeper. For the first time, I felt a profound closeness to my ancestors, my spirit guide, and my own abilities. Observing others immerse themselves in ceremony and commune with the spiritual realms felt instinctively familiar to me. In hindsight, it was the first time I truly felt empowered. It was in these spaces that I realized the potential to utilize my spiritual gifts for good. But this newfound sense of empowerment was short-lived.

My parents eventually divorced, shattering my world. The separation plunged me into a state of turmoil where I no longer felt safe or understood. Losing my connection to my dad felt like losing my tether to both my spirit guide and the spiritual world. During this tumultuous time, I withdrew into myself, shutting out everything and everyone. The harsh reality of the world crashed down on me, forcing me into survival mode. It was the divorce that severed my connection to spirit, leaving me adrift in a sea of uncertainty.