My nephew Jadiel came down with meningitis when he was four months old. I relieved his mom from the NICU so we could sing about stars uninterrupted. We talked about the moon, and said goodnight to everything. I stayed with Jadiel for a week after his release from the hospital. That week I sang to him, in Spanish and English; I told him where our people came from; what our elders were like; how we were a blend of Africa, Europe and Tainos (the indigenous peoples of the Caribbean). He had no idea what I was babbling on about, but I felt an urge to share everything with him. I was eager to extend the moments we shared during that week. An easy way to do this would have been baby bodysuits that reflected our identity, but I couldn’t find any that did so respectfully. I am the aunt that had traced our ancestry and peeled back the scars left by our history so that the next generation wouldn’t have to. But when I tried to buy him a onesie that would reflect that he is Dominican, American, Taino… my search results included a onesie with “bad hombre” across its chest. Jadiel’s illness warped time for me. I became obsessed with how he would see himself. How the world would see him. What he would inherit from me. A year later he was wearing our first design. Well, his first design, Folklorico. Each design is a piece of the mosaic that makes up our identity. Each makes it easier for the next generation to understand how complex and beautiful our history is.
Sign up to unlock wholesale pricing on Ojala Threads and thousands of brands on Faire, the marketplace for retailers.
Sign up to unlock wholesale pricing on Ojala Threads and thousands of brands on Faire, the marketplace for retailers.
Sign up to unlock wholesale pricing on Ojala Threads and thousands of brands on Faire, the marketplace for retailers.
60-day payment terms
Free returns on all opening orders
Unique products curated for your store
©2024 Faire Wholesale, Inc.
English
My nephew Jadiel came down with meningitis when he was four months old. I relieved his mom from the NICU so we could sing about stars uninterrupted. We talked about the moon, and said goodnight to everything. I stayed with Jadiel for a week after his release from the hospital. That week I sang to him, in Spanish and English; I told him where our people came from; what our elders were like; how we were a blend of Africa, Europe and Tainos (the indigenous peoples of the Caribbean). He had no idea what I was babbling on about, but I felt an urge to share everything with him. I was eager to extend the moments we shared during that week. An easy way to do this would have been baby bodysuits that reflected our identity, but I couldn’t find any that did so respectfully. I am the aunt that had traced our ancestry and peeled back the scars left by our history so that the next generation wouldn’t have to. But when I tried to buy him a onesie that would reflect that he is Dominican, American, Taino… my search results included a onesie with “bad hombre” across its chest. Jadiel’s illness warped time for me. I became obsessed with how he would see himself. How the world would see him. What he would inherit from me. A year later he was wearing our first design. Well, his first design, Folklorico. Each design is a piece of the mosaic that makes up our identity. Each makes it easier for the next generation to understand how complex and beautiful our history is.
