When my family immigrated, our customs and long-held traditions were forced to mold to the new culture—this one was no different.

A 5th-grade Spanish class "show & tell" project about family traditions, opened up my eyes to a custom that has been passed down amongst my family for generations. It was a recipe for homemade alcohol, referred to as Aliñao, whose creation marked the birth of a new family member, as well as the union of families on that same child's eventual wedding day.

Amongst the maternal side of my family, whose roots descend from Bayamo, Cuba, we have been preparing batches of this fruity and alcoholic drink as soon a member of my family is about to welcome a new child into the world. As is tradition, the elders of my family come together to combine an abundance of fruits and traditional aguardiente de caña alcohol.

ACROSS GENERATIONS (AND BORDERS)

Once the child is born, the alcohol is offered to everyone who comes to visit the newborn. The remainder is saved to ferment and opened only on that baby's wedding day, used to toast with as the couple's first drink. The alcohol is as old as the child itself; a symbol of my family's unity and collective efforts to embrace the baby as a part of our family.

When I enlisted my mother's help with this project, she told me about the batches of Aliñao that had been lovingly crafted in our names. Even I, who left Cuba at the age of two, had my own bottle of Aliñao labeled and separated for consumption on the day of my wedding. This one bottle was the only remnant of the batch made back in 1996.

This bottle, unique only to me, was so important that it was smuggled across borders amongst the few belongings that my grandmother brought with her when she immigrated to the states.

THE EVOLUTION OF A TRADITION

While it is a tradition rooted in the patriarchal values of Cuban society, marking a woman's decision to marry and become a mother; it is a well-meaning and beautiful one that brings members of the family together to celebrate.

My grandmother, who had managed to salvage my ration, had made it clear that I am not to taste it before "it was time." Once I insisted on merely seeing it, to satiate my curiosity, I was appalled to discover that the esoteric alcohol was housed in an old cooking oil glass bottle, sealed with red wax; which they were lucky to even have on hand at the time. Despite their efforts, they were still limited by the realities of Cuba.

Upon inspection, I was even more surprised to note that about ⅓ of the alcohol itself had already evaporated in the 23 years since my birth. Doing simple math, I realized the bottle may well be considerably reduced if I chose to get married in a decade.

WHAT IF I DECIDED TO NEVER MARRY AT ALL?

After bombarding my grandmother with facts about today's modern woman and relentlessly pleading that I should get to partake in this custom even if I didn't decide to marry anytime soon; she finally relented. I would be allowed to toast with this bottle on the day of my Master's graduation; projected for the Spring of 2022.

I am on track to be the first woman in my Cuban family to divert from this long-held tradition. Because of this new precedent, all of my little cousins will be allotted the same flexibility; officially molding the custom to our modern environment.

That day in Spanish class, I was one of the few children that actually presented on a tradition that involved anything more than spending holidays together. The praise and recognition I received from my teacher confirmed what I already knew: this was a special and unique tradition that I would cherish and continue to keep alive.