Julieta Peralta
Born in Havana, Cuba, Iliana Perez grew up surrounded by the natural beauty of fields, farmlands, and ocean waves. From an early age, she was known for her fearless curiosity. She climbed trees for mangos, swam past the shallow shore until the water turned navy blue, and embraced the rhythms of Cuba’s vibrant nightlife. Her mother affectionately called her “mi ardillita”, my little squirrel. “Los pescadores me decían que un tiburón o un pez grande me iba a tragar,” she laughs. “Pero yo no me dejaba.” (The fishermen would warn me about sharks or big fish swallowing me, but I never let that stop me.)
Iliana’s strength was nurtured by the women around her. Her mother and aunts, her greatest role models, treated her with unconditional love and respect, never viewing her spectrum disability as a limitation. From them, she inherited a deep Christian faith, a commitment to empathy, and a strong sense of self. “She was a beautiful mother, the best one in the world,” Iliana says.
While her father was physically present, their bond remained emotionally distant. Iliana often longed for a connection she never quite found with him. Still, as she grew, she found pride in helping care for her home and learning to live with independence and integrity.
At school, she discovered her passion for athletics. Between the ages of six and sixteen, she thrived in Track and Field, especially the 100-meter race. A supportive coach recognized her potential and guided her through multiple championships. Judo, on the other hand, was a necessity. After being bullied for her disability, Iliana turned to self-defense, a skill her father had taught her. “Yo era muy peleonera de chiquita,” she admits. “Me agarraba con los niños grandes y no los soltaba hasta que ganara.” (I was aggressive as a child; I’d fight the older boys and not let go until I won.)
Her teenage years brought something gentler: friendship. From age 14 to 19, Iliana shared a deep bond with three best friends who never questioned her differences. She also fell in love with dance, competing in salsa, bachata, dembow, danzón, merengue, and mambo. Havana’s Afro-Cuban rhythms shaped her. She learned to play instruments like the conga, maracas, guayo, claves, and drums from neighborhood boys. Her bright blond hair earned her the nickname “Estrellita”, little star.
Cuba, she says, was her “mundo bello”, a beautiful world of unity, culture, and pride. But everything changed in 1980, when the Castro regime allowed Cubans to emigrate via the Mariel boatlift. Without hesitation, Iliana’s mother seized the opportunity and left with her children. The journey across the Gulf of Mexico was dangerous. A seastorm struck during the voyage, sinking many boats. Lives were lost.
Iliana and her family survived, arriving in Miami during one of the city’s most volatile eras. The 1980s were marked by Pablo Escobar’s drug wars and a rise in gang violence. Teenagers like Iliana were often caught in the chaos. Though she continued dancing and held onto her Cuban traditions, the threat of violence made it hard to imagine a safe future.
After a decade in Miami, Iliana made another bold move. She left the city with her four-year-old daughter, determined to find peace in a place where hope could grow. They headed north, toward Minnesota.
The snow-covered landscapes were a far cry from the beaches of Havana, but Minnesota offered something Iliana had been searching for: support. The state’s resources helped her secure housing, food, and medical care for her mental health needs. But it was the community she found at her local church that helped her truly heal. Surrounded by kindness and acceptance, Iliana began rebuilding her life. Recently, she made the decision to be baptized, a symbol of renewal and faith, made with the guidance of her spiritual community.
Throughout all of life’s challenges, one constant remained: art. Iliana’s love for drawing began during her battles with depression and anxiety. Art gave her an escape—a way to build her own world. “Mi arte es inmensa,” she says. (My art is immense.) What began as therapy became a lifeline. She found meaning in adding color to blank spaces, purpose in creating beauty from pain. “Gracias al arte, me río más fuerte y vivo con más ganas,” she says. (Thanks to art, I laugh harder and live with more joy.)
Blue tones appear often in her work. They remind her of the sea in Cuba, the beauty of her homeland, and her inner strength. They make her feel like Wonder Woman. “My creativity doesn’t have limits,” she says. “Art saved me from falling into a hole too deep to climb out of.”
Now living in Minnesota, Iliana continues to create through faith, through healing, and through her art. She carries her culture in every movement, every memory, and every brushstroke.
