Cultural Blend in Family

By: Astrid Sarmiento a.k.a Lil Poetrid

One of the greatest gifts my parents gave me wasn't something they could wrap in a box. It was culture.

Growing up, I didn't realize that having a Colombian father and a Honduran mother was something special. It was simply my normal.

Only as I grew older, did I begin to understand that many people spend their entire lives learning about other cultures through books, travel, or conversations, while I had the privilege of experiencing two different cultures every day from the comfort of my own home.

My childhood existed somewhere between Colombia and Honduras. My Colombian side taught me warmth, storytelling, and colorful phrases that seemed to have an answer for everything. My Honduran side taught me resilience, community, and traditions that connected me to generations before me.

One of the greatest advantages of growing up in a multicultural household is that it teaches you early on that there is rarely only one way to see the world.

Both of my parents came from different countries, different traditions, and different experiences. While there were many similarities between their cultures, there were also countless differences. Through them, I learned that identity is not something fixed. It can be layered, complex, and beautifully intertwined.

Language was perhaps one of the first places where I noticed this.

Spanish was spoken in our home, yet it often sounded different depending on who was speaking. My Colombian father carried expressions that were common in Barranquilla. Words like chévere rolled off his tongue naturally. He spoke with a rhythm and humor that made even ordinary conversations feel like stories.

My Honduran mother brought her own vocabulary, sayings, and way of expressing herself. Sometimes the same object had a different name. Sometimes a phrase that made perfect sense to one parent left the other laughing. As a child, I found it amusing. As an adult, I recognize it as a gift.

I wasn't simply learning Spanish. I was learning that language itself carries history, geography, and identity. I learned that words travel across borders and transform along the way.

Beyond language, I was exposed to two distinct cultural perspectives. Family was central in both households, but traditions were celebrated differently. Recipes carried different histories. Stories carried different lessons. Holidays, music, and customs reflected generations of experiences unique to each country.

Perhaps the greatest lesson my parents unknowingly taught me was adaptability.

Growing up around two cultures made me comfortable with differences. It taught me to listen before judging, to be curious rather than dismissive, and to appreciate perspectives that may not mirror my own.

When you're raised understanding that two people can come from different places and still build a life together, you begin to realize that diversity isn't something to fear. It's something to celebrate.

This lesson has followed me into adulthood. It has shaped how I connect with people, how I approach new experiences, and how I navigate the world. It has taught me that human beings are far more alike than they are different, yet our unique traditions and histories are what make us interesting.

Looking back now, I realize that my parents gave me more than two cultures. They gave me two lenses through which to see the world.

They taught me that identity doesn't have to fit neatly into a box. I don't have to choose between being Colombian or Honduran. Both histories live within me. Both stories helped shape me.

I carry my father's Colombian culture in the sayings that still make me smile, in the warmth of storytelling, and in the pride he had for where he came from.

I carry my mother's Honduran roots in the traditions she passed down, in her strength, and in the quiet ways she taught me the meaning of resilience and family.

Together, they created something uniquely my own. A childhood filled with different accents, different expressions, different customs, and endless opportunities to learn.

A reminder that sometimes the richest education doesn't happen in a classroom. Sometimes it happens at home.

And somewhere between Colombia and Honduras, I learned that the most beautiful parts of ourselves are often found in the places where different worlds meet.

The kitchen was often where those worlds met. Different recipes. Different flavors. Different memories. Yet somehow they always found a way to sit at the same table.

What I appreciate most now is how those differences expanded my perspective. I grew up understanding that identity isn't always one thing. Sometimes it's a beautiful blend of many things.

My father gave me one set of roots. My mother gave me another. Somewhere between Colombia and Honduras, I learned how to bloom.

Today, I carry pieces of both of my parents with me. A little Colombia. A little Honduras, but all part of who I am.

And looking back, I realize how lucky I was to grow up in a home where I didn't just learn one culture.

I learned two.