A Name. A Nickname. A Label.

I firmly believe one of the most significant things about a person is what they are called.
Names, nicknames, and labels — all create a mixture of beliefs and truths about oneself.

A Name.
That which chose me is Lauren Alleah Crespo.
Lauren means victorious. Alleah means highly exalted. Crespo means farmer.

A Nickname.
That which I chose for myself is Lo — a shortened version of my name that reminds me of the biblical moments when the Lord would say, “Lo, I am with you always.” It signifies a promise of His presence. This is the embodiment I carry.

A Label.
Then there are the labels: Gringa, Morena, Negrita, Mulatta, and so many others. Labels I never chose, yet were attributed to me nonetheless. Labels that claim a knowledge of my essence, without allowing space for me to define myself. Labels that presume understanding as if one were God Himself.

The bottom line? When people witness my Americanness, my Blackness, or my broken Spanish and use it as a reason to discount or reject my Puerto Ricanness, or other aspects of my ethnic identity, they dishonor its very history — and reduce its richness to something far too shortsighted.

My Americanness tells the story of Puerto Rican displacement and resilience.
My broken Spanish tells the story of a displaced people striving to reclaim belonging.
A man born on the island, migrating for a better life, tells the story of economic instability that led to re‑establishment elsewhere.

It is the measure of how much we honor or dishonor what is — and that measure determines how well we honor ourselves and others.