I grew up in the San Gabriel Valley, east of Los Angeles, a valley full of immigrants. My parents came from Peru in the mid-’80s escaping social and economic crises. I was born a year into their arrival. Because my mom grew up in the evangelical Christian church, our home life was overall strict and religious. We went to church every Sunday and didn’t celebrate Halloween, meaning I have never trick-or-treated, ever. By the ‘90s, a lot of my family on both my mom’s and dad’s sides had immigrated, so there was a family party almost every weekend. The adults moved naturally to salsa, chicha, cumbia, and merengue rhythms. Their bodies just knew what to do. Everyone danced except my mother, who never learned because of her religious upbringing. She’d always ask me to sit next to her while everyone was up moving their bodies. Soon, I realized I hadn’t learned to dance either. It made me hyper-aware of how my body moved in public.
