Meet the Latina STEM Leader Behind Santa Almagia, the Mezcal That Honors Tradition 

Alana Abbitt sits in two worlds. One belongs to code, deadlines, and boardrooms. The other pulses with smoke, soil, and spirit. She moves between them with the discipline of someone raised to listen before speaking and with the certainty of someone who has already been counted out. A Latina in STEM with a career in tech and a mezcal brand built from ancestral hands, she refuses to live in binaries. 

In a recent conversation with BELatina, Abbitt shared how her heritage, her work in tech, and her vision for Santa Almagia are shaping not just a brand but a legacy. And she didn’t bring a rehearsed pitch. She brought the story behind the bottle. 

“I was born in Mexico City,” she said, “and my mother now lives in Jalisco. Growing up, I’d return to Mexico every Christmas and summer. It shaped me.” Her voice is steady when she speaks of her heritage, deliberate when she details the transformation of agave into spirit. “Mezcal takes 12 to 14 years to cultivate, and everything about our process is ancestral. [There are] no machines, not even a donkey.” 

Naming the Spirit

That reverence for tradition became the foundation of Santa Almagia. See, Abbitt is not chasing validation. She is building Santa Almagia for her daughter, her mother, and the mezcaleros who craft every bottle from tradition. She calls it magic. Not the trickery kind. The kind born from land, labor, and time. “There are three ways agave-based spirits are produced,” she explained. “Industrial, artisanal, and ancestral. We chose ancestral because it comes from people. It’s passed down, family to family, on their own land.” 

From the outset, she made clear that Santa Almagia was never meant to follow the familiar playbook. Her brand is not for those seeking tequila in shot glasses rimmed with salt. 

“People don’t realize the craftsmanship. In Italy, we romanticize handmade shoes. Why not do the same for Mexico’s spirits?” 

That craftsmanship is already being recognized. Santa Almagia earned a Double Gold Medal at the San Francisco Spirits Competition — a validation of what Abbitt already knew: true quality never requires compromise. And, recently, at the Ascot Awards, it went Platinum for taste, for the bottle, and for the website. The packaging received Double Platinum. Every element — from flavor to form — met the moment. 

Still, awards aside, it was the intimacy of tasting that revealed the brand’s soul. 

BELatina experienced Santa Almagia alongside Alana in Miami during Race Week — not in a crowded bar, but in a quiet moment that felt more ritual than celebration. The first drop of the mezcal glided effortlessly into us, earthy and precise, inviting us into a magical moment. Just as the name promises: ‘Magia.’ 

Of course, that vision comes with boundaries. Santa Almagia was never designed to scale like the water-down spirits of the world. Abbitt never intended to flood shelves with cheap bottles. Her business model rejects industrial speed for something more precise. “We want to give a fair wage. If you understood how much goes into this, you’d know why it can’t be sold for twenty dollars,” she said. This is a Latina who gets it. 

But for Abbitt, quality is only one part of the story. The product speaks to exclusivity, but the mission stays rooted in community. Profits return to the hands that ferment and bottle the mezcal. 

That’s where her tech background enters the picture. Abbitt works full-time in the tech industry as a product manager. Her training shaped how she listens to markets, adapts strategies, and faces failure. “Tech is male-dominated. So is spirits,” she said. “But I’ve spent my whole career as one of the few women in the room. One of the even fewer Latinas.” 

Lessons from a Latina in STEM

Her approach to business mirrors what she’s learned in STEM. She speaks openly about imposter syndrome. 

She doesn’t posture. She builds. “Being in tech taught me to test, iterate, pivot,” she said. “Entrepreneurship works the same way. You don’t need 27 spas to start a spa. You start with one treatment room, offering your services by word of mouth to family and friends. By wrapping your arms around it first, you’ll uncover if the demand is there, and how you can realize your vision.” 

That same philosophy grounds her personal life. Her mezcal brand, for instance, is stitched with family. Her mother runs operations in Mexico. Her daughter, still years away from her first legal sip, is already etched into the long-term vision. “I hope her first drink is Santa Almagia,” she said. “But she’ll have to work for it. Nothing will be spoon-fed.” 

The impact, however, extends beyond her own household. Abbitt’s definition of generational wealth does not begin with her. It includes the mezcaleros who sleep beside fermenting tubs, afraid to leave the fire. It includes her mother, a retired woman now managing land and operations. It includes every Latina who has been told she needs more experience before she can launch. “I want this business to be something my daughter can point to and say, ‘My mom built this from scratch.’” 

A Third-Generation Vision Thanks to Santa Almagia

That vision continues to grow, even in the off-hours. She is measured but not reserved. She still volunteers as the Vice President of the Los Angeles chapter of Latina Geeks. She still meets with her mother to strategize each week. She still works full-time and puts her daughter to bed before working late nights on Santa Almagia. “First, I’m a mother. Then I’m everything else,” she said. 

Her approach to entrepreneurship reflects the same measured patience she brings to the table as a mother. Abbitt doesn’t chase perfect timing. She works with what she has. “Start small,” she said. “People always want to help. What’s missing is the willingness to ask.” 

And when she introduces Santa Almagia to new audiences, the experience is meant to slow everything down. At her tastings, she instructs guests to breathe in the mezcal. Sip slowly. Wait. Sip again. Let it evolve on the tongue. That’s how she approaches the business, too. Not with haste. With patience. 

Sustainability, not mass production, is the true measure of success. She doesn’t need volume to feel legitimate. She needs longevity. “My goal is to support my mother,” she said. “Then give my daughter something lasting. This is a third-generation project.” 

Santa Almagia is not for everyone. It was never supposed to be. It is for those who understand that spirit can live in a bottle and still tell the story of a people. This is for those who know that the soul of something is not found in the quantity produced but, in the labor, remembered. 

Will you be adding Santa Almagia to your bar cart?