Having a Latino identity is an incredibly complex experience that tens of millions of Americans all share. A combination of African, European, and Indigenous heritages have blended into a unique Latinx culture, and being Latinx in America often means straddling the Latinx culture of one's ancestors and the American culture that surrounds it. As a Latina woman living in the United States, this experience becomes deeply personal and resonates with me. Maintaining pride and respect for one's culture while adapting to American life can become a balancing act that has a profound impact on a person's life. In The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros, Esperanza Cordero, the young protagonist, experiences this identity division herself. His youth encounter represents a situation that millions of Americans still experience every day. Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on “Why Violent Video Games Should Not Be Banned”? Get an original essay In her article "Adolescent Journeys: Finding Female Authority in The Rain Catchers and The House on Mango Street," Christina Rose Dubb of the University of Pennsylvania notes this encounter as she defends her thesis that Esperanza uses her abilities literary skills to understand one's identity and the world around one using Julie Langer's four vision-building positions. Rather than analyzing Dubb's analysis of The House on Mango Street with respect to Langer's four positions, which Dubb has already developed in depth, I will further explore his argument that Esperanza lives stuck between her identity Mexican and her American identity. I certainly agree with Dubb that Esperanza's mixed identity is fundamental in helping us understand her progression and maturation throughout the novel. In order to achieve her “authorial voice” (230), as Dubb puts it, Esperanza must first question, analyze, and understand her culture. In a nutshell, Christina Rose Dubb uses Julie Langer's vision-building framework to analyze adolescent authority in The House on Mango Street and The Rain Catchers. She linearizes these steps to create a path for each novel's protagonists to find their voices and become active, assertive parts of their world. Early in this argument, Dubb acknowledges the additional obstacles Esperanza faces due to her origin—referring to this in-between life as a life in “los intersticios,” the cracks, as Anzaldua puts it (222). She argues that the use of vignettes and switching between Spanish and English allows this sense of flexibility and in-betweenness to flourish. This intermediary makes understanding her culture and origins much more difficult for Esperanza than if she had simply been white. At the beginning of the novel, Esperanza blindly accepts her culture and her life in general. Dubb classifies this part of their life as "the silent stage of development, where they live their lives on the surface, without questioning their situation or using words as power" (224). Esperanza writes simple descriptions of her world and culture, without even realizing that her culture is distinct. She talks about houses that “look like Mexico” (18) and dogs “with two names, one in English and one in Spanish” (21). Her identity is so precisely anchored in her life that she is not aware of it. Esperanza's naivety and innocence keep her indifferent to the world around her. However, this childish obedience does not last long. Later in the novel, Esperanza begins to struggle with her identity as she is incapable.