Dear 16-year-old me,
You’re probably rolling your eyes, thinking, “What could my old self possibly tell me?” Fair enough. I am you, only 52 years older, and there are certain matters you truly need to hear.
First, the tough part: the word “negra” your uncles sometimes use. I know how it feels every time they say it. It makes your morena skin and thick, beautiful hair seem like flaws. It makes you feel ugly.
Stop right there. They’re wrong. You are not ugly.
Partially AI-generated: Hugging my 16-year-old self. I uploaded my latest photo and my high school graduation photo and then prompted Gemini Nano Banana
That word is only a reflection of their old-fashioned thinking, not of your value. Stand before the mirror and really see yourself. Your morena skin holds its own glow, your eyes reveal so much, and your smile brightens every space. As the years pass, you’ll grow into those features, and the ones who matter, even your ex-boyfriend, will see the beauty that has always been there.
Hold your head high. Your beauty is your heritage, not a mistake. Do not let their words shape how you see yourself.
Now about school. You keep comparing yourself to the straight-A students and you worry that your average grades mean you’re just average.
You’re not.
You are smart.
The system measures only one kind of intelligence and misses so much of who you are. You have an analytical mind and a creativity that hasn’t found its place yet. You love science. You are drawn to society and politics. Do not stress about being the sister with the lowest grade. What you are learning goes beyond textbooks. You are learning how to think, how to navigate life, and how to treat people. Real intelligence shows up as curiosity, wisdom, and resilience. You already have those.
Then there’s the “shy” label. You see yourself as the quiet one, hanging back and hoping the teacher never calls on you.
You’re not shy. You’re just low on confidence, and that’s not the same thing.
Shyness is a trait. Confidence is a skill you build. And all that quiet observing you do is not weakness. It is strength. You are not afraid of people. You are afraid of judgment. But your thoughts are worth hearing. That urge to speak up is your confidence trying to break out. It will grow with small wins. Start with your friends, then a class presentation, then a bigger challenge. The voice is already there. You just need to use it.
Generated via Gemini Nano Banana
Here’s a glimpse of the future: at 68, your life is perfectly imperfect.
It is messy, complicated, and beautiful.
That quiet observation and sharp mind will take you far. You will become a blogger, then a columnist, and later a coffee producer. You will learn the science of the bean and master the craft of processing. Your husband is not an easy person to figure out, but over time you learn how to adjust and live with his complexities.
And yes, you will be a mother. Our mother’s strictness and hot temper will leave scars. You may never fully outrun that trauma, and it will affect the way you parent. You will struggle with repeating old patterns. But listen closely: when you are older, you will forgive her.
You’ll be an imperfectly perfect mom. Mistakes will happen, sometimes small ones and sometimes bigger than you’d like, but they won’t define you. Life won’t feel like a steady climb upward. It will be two steps forward, one step back, then another push ahead. Every stumble will leave you with something to learn. What matters is that you’ll learn to own your past, release what you cannot undo, and keep choosing growth instead of sinking into self-pity.
You will stay curious. You will keep learning for the joy of it. You will surround yourself with people who truly cherish you, complexion and all. And you will learn to laugh without holding back.
The best part is that you will find a quiet, steady confidence. You will walk into rooms and hold your space, not because you are loud, but because you know who you are. Flaws and all. And you will not feel the need to apologize for it.
So take a deep breath.
Stop letting nicknames or report cards decide your worth. You are beautiful. You are smart. You deserve good things. The woman I am today exists because of the strong, if unsure, girl you are now.
Be kind to her. She deserves it.
Love,
Your 68-Year-Old Self
