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At home, I was Salvadoran—surrounded by music, food, stories, and pride.Outside, I was something else—Mexican, American, or invisible. I was born in Canoga Park and grew up in an apartment building in Van Nuys in the 80s and 90s. My parents migrated from El Salvador in 1982, at the height of the war. In Los Angeles, the Mexican community was the largest Latino presence, and I didn’t have much extended family nearby. Our neighbors became our family—one big, shared community. I