he clung to his Mexican identity in a way that made me feel like I could claim my Peruvian one. It didn’t matter that I hadn’t been to Peru in years, or that I wasn’t particularly close to my family there, or that I wasn’t as familiar with its history and politics as I could be. None of that eroded my identity. Perhaps I needed his reassurance because I knew very few Peruvians outside my parents’ circle, and certainly none in places like the Bowl.
