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My entire Cuban family called me "Chupetita" my whole life. I thought it meant "little candy" in Spanish—so sweet and precious when my abuela said it while giving me lollipops.

In fourth grade, I proudly told my class about my beautiful heritage nickname that meant I was sweet like candy. My Latina teacher literally dropped her coffee mug and immediately called my parents. I thought she was amazed by how lovely it was. When my parents came in, they had this hushed conversation while glancing at me nervously.

For my quinceañera, I had "Chupetita" embroidered on a gorgeous pink sash and wore it beaming with pride during the ceremony. All my friends thought it was so cool and started calling me "Chupe." I felt so connected to my roots and would correct people on pronunciation, making sure they rolled the 'r' just right.

When I complained about the "baby nickname" as a teen, my family would just laugh and say, "You'll always be our little Chupetita." My dad and uncles would exchange knowing looks and laugh until they cried, sometimes having to leave the room. I thought they were being typical annoying adults.

My middle school crush Alex heard the nickname at a school event. His eyes went wide, he got this weird expression, then started laughing. "That's... that's actually your nickname?" He started using it too, but always with this smirk I thought was flirty. Other Latino kids would snicker when they heard him say it.

In eighth grade, I made a whole presentation poster titled "My Special Nickname: Chupetita" with candy drawings, explaining to the entire class how it connected me to Cuban heritage. My Puerto Rican teacher had to step out claiming he needed water. The Latino kids were turning red trying not to laugh, covering their mouths.

At 14, when a Cuban waiter heard my family use the nickname at this fancy restaurant, he laughed so hard he had to excuse himself to the kitchen. My dad tipped him extra and they had this animated conversation in rapid Spanish while looking at me and chuckling.

There was this time at church when I was 15, and the priest, who was also Cuban, heard my family calling me Chupetita during fellowship. He got this shocked expression and quickly walked away, shaking his head. My mom looked mortified and dragged my dad aside for a heated whispered argument.

Last month at my cousin's sweet sixteen party, my great-aunt Rosa—75 years old with zero filter and three mojitos deep—gives me a big hug and announces loudly, "Ay, look at our beautiful Chupetita! Still got those same plump lips!"

My college cousin Miguel starts choking on his drink. "Wait—you seriously don't know what Chupetita actually means?" Now the whole party is staring at us.

My mom appears, looking absolutely panicked, rapidly speaking Spanish to shut Rosa up. But Rosa grabs my face with both hands and says, "Mija, you know why we started calling you Chupetita when you were just a baby?"

My terrified dad rushes over with my uncles, but Rosa waves them off. "This girl couldn't stop sucking on everything—your thumb, toes, blanket, toys, other people's fingers. But worst of all, you were obsessed with sucking your own lips. CHUP CHUP CHUP—that's all we heard! Your little lips were always swollen and bright red from constant sucking."

The entire party goes dead silent.

"So your papi started calling you Chupetita—little sucker—because you were always sucking on something! Those puffy red lips looked like you'd been making out all day long! You kept doing it until you were four—in public, at church, at family gatherings! Other parents would stare and whisper!"

Sixteen years of family memories suddenly rearranged in my head as I realized my entire extended family had been calling me "Little Sucker with Swollen Lips" my whole life.