My mother immigrated to the United States from Bolivia at age 15 with her parents. Leaving everything she knew behind, she had to adapt to a new language, culture, and way of life in a completely foreign country. It was a painful goodbye and a difficult transition; from learning English to struggling to fit in at a predominantly white high school, her teenage years were indubitably filled with insecurity and hardship. Meanwhile, my grandparents worked tirelessly to keep a roof over their heads and financially support my mother, all while learning to live in a different country. Fortunately, my mother was able to adapt and overcome these obstacles: she learned English, graduated high school, graduated college, and started to make a career for herself. Soon after, she married my father, an Iranian immigrant, and started a family with him. Balancing her burgeoning career with raising two children, to me, my mother was the epitome of strength, discipline, and determination. My grandparents and her family instilled these virtues in her from a young age. I'm lucky enough to live only an hour away from my grandparents, knowing how many Latino families are separated from each other once they immigrate. Thanks to my grandparents, I learned Spanish and about Bolivian culture, customs, and history. I was even able to travel to Bolivia during the summers with my family and visit my mother's family in the capital, La Paz. My grasp of Spanish flourished during these vacations, as well as my appreciation and understanding of Bolivian culture. My family took me to visit historical sites such as Lake Titicaca, Copacabana, Coro Coro, and Tiwanaku, in addition to visiting different cities such as Cochabamba and Tarija. I explored the colonial area and museums within La Paz and the tropics of Yungas and Coroico. I saw massive lakes, majestic mountain ranges, awesome statues, ancient ruins, and lush, breathtaking jungles filled with life and beauty unlike anything I had witnessed up until that point in my life. The more I saw, the more I fell in love with Bolivia, and the more I felt proud to be a Bolivian descendant. Learning not only about the atrocities the Spanish committed against indigenous Bolivians and enslaved Africans but Bolivia’s rich, colorful history pre-conquest and even pre-Inca fueled my fascination and dedication to study Latin American history. Learning history from the perspective of the oppressed radically changed my worldview; after all, my history classes in school informed me that Spanish colonization was a good thing and that everybody got along just fine. I felt like I had finally learned the truth about the world, and it was then that I realized that I was passionate about discovering the truth behind how one of the most diverse regions on the planet came into existence. My exposure to Bolivian history and identity was responsible for my pursuit of a history degree with a specification in Latin American studies. As someone who considers herself half-Bolivian, it is cathartic to learn my country's history and the rest of the region's real history. Furthermore, eventually, I want to be one of the academics in this field so white-washed and colonized to contribute to understanding this region's history. I want to tell our history accurately, warts and all, including every perspective from our diverse region. It is my duty as a Bolivian to make things right.