As I take the elevator up to the 18th floor at work I look around. I am the only woman surrounded by 8 Hasidic Jewish men.

Later when I pop out for lunch, I decide on Thai and walk up 9th ave. There are 3 I can choose from. Everyone of the employees is Thai and speaks to each other in Thai while quickly serving lunch.

On the way home I squeeze myself on the L train along with the rest of North Brooklyn. A group of black kids jump on and carves out a hole to start dancing. Music pumps, people start clapping, an Eastern European couple start recording on their phones.

When I get out in Bushwick, I start walking to my apartment. Down my street 6 Puerto Ricans sit on the steps arguing fiercely over something in Spanish.

These are just some of the many culturally diverse moments I experience in a day in New York. This is my America. I will fight for it every day to stay different because that is what makes us great. No one will convince me otherwise. As a granddaughter of immigrants I will stand with anyone who is looking to take a chance and make a change. This is why I have hope for America’s future. We are a nation of dreamers, nothing will slow us down.

One response to “My America”

  1. 2017: Truth – my feet don't want to go to sleep Avatar
    2017: Truth – my feet don't want to go to sleep

    […] My family went to visit the mountains my great aunt was born in in Italy. The lack of internet and English to me was shocking, it seemed like a city stuck in time. We wandered the street realizing how far you can push yourself to set someone up for success. My family left everything they knew in the hopes of finding opportunities. This is why I think our country is so great because #immigrantsgetthejobdone  […]

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