Why immigrants make Miami an incredible place to grow up in
With more Spanish-speakers than English-speakers, this is no ordinary American city
I moved from Venezuela with my family when I was only three years old, but have always and will always identify as Hispanic over American. The reasoning for this is partly that my family could not be more proudly and loudly Latino, but it also has to do with the city I grew up in: Miami, Florida.
Miami seems more like northern Cuba than southern America
In Miami, everyone is Cuban. Everyone’s grandfather was on the high school basketball team with Fidel Castro back in Havana, everyone goes crazy over croquetas and cafecítos, everyone’s family has some unbelievable story about how they risked their lives making it onto U.S. soil.
While it can be monotonous to hear the same background story over and over, it gives the city a cultural identity that’s entirely unique and lovable.
Sorry, did I say northern Cuba? I meant northern Latin America
My family isn’t Cuban, but we’ve had no problem finding a vast and growing Venezuelan community in Miami. Same goes for pretty much any Hispanic nationality – Colombians, Dominicans, you name it. It’s wonderful being surrounded by people who know and have experienced the same struggle, because we don’t need to explain how desperately we love our home country or how frustrating it is that we had to leave because of financial instability, crumbling governments, crime, or all of the above – we all just know.
Everybody is your cousin, or your boyfriend’s cousin, or your boyfriend’s cousin’s sister
Hispanic communities tend to be very intertwined and closely-knit, and this is exactly what you’ll find in Miami. Everyone is somehow connected to each other in ways you couldn’t imagine, which makes it feel like the city is home to one big, happy family.
You know everyone’s names, everyone knows your name, and you’ll all run into each other at Versailles or El Palacio de los Jugos or El Rey de las Fritas this weekend for some irresistible Cuban grub.
Since everyone’s family, family matters
One of my favorite things about Miami is how warm, familiar, and comfortable the environment is. My parents treated all my friends like their own children, and I got the same treatment in every house I’d visit. Quinceañeras may have been hilariously cheesy, but it was a time when all the family and friends came together and partied like only Latinos know how to do. Even in public places, strangers were always so kind and familiar with each other – my mother knows everyone by name at our local Venezuelan bakery. Relationships were important, a vital part of the loud, exciting Miami culture.
All these things seemed pretty customary to me until I came to college in Durham, North Carolina, and I realized how starkly different my upbringing was from that of other cities in America.
Miami is not home to traditional American culture: it has a vibrant and strong Hispanic flare, and that’s thanks to all the immigrants who oftentimes risked their lives to make it to the U.S. for the sake of their families’ safety and future.
Sure, the lingo is easy to make fun of, and I know us Miami girls aren’t always the classiest bunch. But I’m grateful that I was able to grow up in a city whose identity was reminiscent of that of my Venezuela, because my family and I were able to find a home amongst strangers who were doing the same as we were – looking for a new resting place when our abode was no longer safe for us to live in.