Navigating Identity in Buenos Aires: A Minority Perspective Abroad

When I first landed in Buenos Aires, I expected a rush of new experiences—Spanish conversations spilling into the streets, the rhythm of tango drifting from a corner, and the unmistakable aroma of fresh medialunas at every café. What I didn’t fully anticipate was how my racial and religious identity would shape my time here.

Buenos Aires is often described as a city with European flair—its architecture, food, and even beauty standards reflect that history. As a racial minority, I stood out in most spaces, sometimes in ways that felt curious, sometimes in ways that felt isolating. Strangers would occasionally stare a beat too long or ask questions that revealed assumptions about where I was “really” from. It wasn’t always unkind—often it was rooted in genuine curiosity—but it was a reminder that my presence was unusual in their day-to-day lives.

Religion added another layer. My faith practices and dietary habits didn’t always align with the norms here. Argentina has its own rich religious landscape, but spaces for minority religious communities are smaller and less visible. There were times I felt disconnected from parts of myself—not because I was ashamed, but because the rhythms of my spiritual life didn’t fit neatly into my new environment. The hymns of Kidase and prayers I was used to hearing back home, the food traditions tied to my religion, even small gestures of shared community—they weren’t as accessible here.

Balancing cultural differences became a daily practice. I became comfortable explaining aspects of my identity without turning every conversation into a history lesson. I found small ways to maintain my connection to home like finding quiet spaces for reflection when the city felt too loud.

Yet, there were also beautiful moments of connection. People invited me to mate circles without hesitation, explained idioms I didn’t understand, and encouraged me to explore their favorite restaurants and city sites. While I sometimes felt set apart by my differences, I also realized that those differences sparked conversations that might not have happened otherwise.

For other travelers navigating similar experiences, here are a few tips:

1. Find community early. Look for cultural centers, language exchanges, or religious spaces that align with your background. Even if they’re small, they can become anchors.
    
2. Learn the “why” behind customs. Understanding local etiquette and traditions helps you adapt without losing yourself.
    
3. Balance adaptation with authenticity. You don’t have to fully assimilate—hold on to the parts of your identity that matter most.
    
4. Be ready for questions. Decide in advance how much you want to share about your background and where your boundaries are.
    
5. Document your experience. Journaling helps process the emotions of navigating identity in a new cultural context.
    

Being in Buenos Aires as a racial and religious minority taught me that identity isn’t static—it bends, stretches, and sometimes feels distant, but it’s never lost. The city challenged me, but it also gave me a deeper appreciation for both my own heritage and the beauty of stepping into someone else’s world.