A photo series aimed to capture how it feels to be first-generation Latinx in the Midwest. Specifically what it means to be raised by immigrants in a society that deems your family’s existence in its country as a crime. Consistently trying to find a place that feels like home, like you belong. Finding yourself running to the “Mexican” section of the grocery store: to remember what it felt like seeing your mom cook or hoping to hear an elderly woman speak Spanish (as she struggles to read the English translation of the food you so fondly remember) . Knowing that the aisle itself does’t even accept you, as all of Latin America’s foods are shoved in shelves under a sign that reads “Mexican”.