Rooted and Rising

The poet T.S. Eliot once wrote, “We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.” These words capture the essence of my journey between Mexico and the United States, two lands that have shaped my identity and my understanding of home.

My story begins in 2004 when insecurity in Mexico prompted my mother to send my sisters and me to a boarding school in Ojai, California. Although this marked a significant shift in my life, it wasn’t my first encounter with the United States. My grandmother lived in Los Angeles, and our family often visited her. Those outings were filled with prototypical Californian experiences: trips to Disneyland, strolls down the Santa Monica Pier, and family gatherings filled with warmth. But living in Ojai was different. It wasn’t just a vacation—it was a new reality.

Ojai’s endless orange groves, bathed in the soft glow of pink sunsets known as “The Pink Moment,” created a magical backdrop that brought me comfort as I adjusted to this unfamiliar world. The orange trees became a source of stability for me—steadfast and rooted, even as I felt uprooted from my home in Mexico. I struggled to learn English, attending English as a Second Language classes to catch up with my peers. Gradually, I adapted. I rode my bike through Ojai’s quiet streets, walked alone to the local store, and embraced the freedoms that had felt out of reach back in Mexico. Yet, as I settled into my new life, I noticed that my Mexican traditions were blending with American customs in ways I hadn’t expected.

Oranges in Ojai, California. Photo by Alide Flores Urich Sass.

I began trading el Ratón Pérez—the beloved Mexican character who collects children’s teeth—for the tooth fairy, a figure I found equally magical but distinctly U.S.- based. My Spanish was slowly infused with English words, and holidays like Thanksgiving became as familiar to me as Día de los Muertos. These small modifications were not just adaptations; they were markers of my transformation, a blending of cultures that reflected my evolving sense of identity.

At the same time, I couldn’t ignore the divides within the Latinx community around me. I saw the privileged minority who had access to education and resources, but I also witnessed the struggles of undocumented workers whose labor sustained the economy yet whose contributions went largely unnoticed. Sergio Arau’s A Day Without a Mexican captured this disparity. The film imagined a California thrown into chaos when all Mexicans suddenly vanished, highlighting how deeply their work was woven into the state’s fabric. Despite its powerful message, the reality for many undocumented workers remained unchanged—they continued to chase the elusive American Dream, no matter how challenging the path.

After several years in California, I returned to Mexico to complete my education. I came to understand just how much I had evolved. My Spanish was peppered with English words, and I knew more about Saint Junipero Serra, a Spanish priest and missionary known for establishing the Franciscan Missions along the coast of California than colonial Mexico with its economic activities like mining and agriculture. I noticed how deeply I had absorbed Mexico´s northern neighbor´s culture. I had been “Americanized,” using leggings with Uggs or flip-flops if the weather allowed it. Yet, when I returned to Mexico, I was able to reconnect with my roots. History, my passion and favorite school subject, became the gateway through which I reawakened my bond with my heritage.

Alide in the orange groves in Ojai, California. Photo by Ronit Warman.

I had the opportunity of living in two other different countries across the Atlantic Ocean, and while soaking up different cultures, my Spanglish, better known as the linguistic phenomenon that blends elements of both Spanish and English within speech, never abandoned me. Years later, after finishing my Master´s degree in International Relations from IE University: School of Politics, Economics and Global Affairs life brought me back to the United States, this time as a professional working in Washington, D.C., for a multilateral organization. The country´s capital with its iconic government buildings and breathtaking cherry blossoms, not only propelled my professional growth but also opened my eyes to the profound social transformations the country has undergone over the past two decades. The country I had known as a child had changed, and so had I. The Latinx community, once viewed primarily as a labor force, had emerged as a vibrant, influential presence in U.S culture and politics. I worked alongside talented young Latinx professionals whose parents had sacrificed everything to create opportunities for them.

This transformation was undeniable. In the 2024 U.S. presidential election, the Latinx vote became a decisive force, reflecting the community’s growing political power. From bilingual ads like Hombres con Harris campaign to targeted Republican outreach efforts to Florida’s Cuban-American voters, political parties finally began to recognize the diverse priorities of Latinx voters. Beyond politics, the cultural influence of the Latinx community was everywhere—from Peso Pluma, Maluma, Karol G and Bad Bunny dominating the music in bars making people sway to the rhythms of the music, fully immersed in the energy of the songs, even if they couldn´t pronounce a single word, to Tajín seasoning lining grocery store shelves, a product that could only be sold in Mexico a few years back.

Returning to live in the United States as an adult felt like a blend of the familiar and the unknown, much like revisiting Ojai’s orange trees. As a child, I marveled at their beauty without fully grasping their resilience. Now, I see them as a symbol of the Latinx community and my own journey—deeply rooted, constantly evolving, and thriving despite adversity. T.S. Eliot’s words resonate with me more than ever. The journey between Mexico and the United States has brought me full circle—not as the same person, but with a richer understanding of both places and of myself. The steady orange trees of Ojai, flourishing despite the challenges, are a reminder of the strength of our roots, even in times of change. As I return to this starting point, I see my journey, my identity and my heritage through a new lens, positioned within a new reality.

Alide Flores Urich Sass looking at the Washington Monument first day in Washington, D.C., as she embarked on a new professional journey in August 2022. Her mother, Karin Urich Sass, came to help with the move and captured that moment.