Po’ K Dominicana Soy.

This exemplifies all too well the feeling of most young Latino in the US brought when little kids and able to see that melting-pot and puzzle that our country is becoming.

A Not So Different Story.

The United States is my home.  It is what I know.  It is a place I spent the largest part of my life studying, learning, interacting, growing, and assimilating.  “Ya tu ere gringa,” says my uncle in Dominican Republic.   See, most of my families in the States do not consist of cousins, aunts, uncles, or grandparents.  I grew up without having that Dominican uncle who gives his niece a few bucks for outings or that Dominican aunt that takes her niece to el solon with her.  If I was to have a family reunion, it would consist of best friends— family I adopted throughout the years.  Everything I am has been adopted: the language, the culture, and the greetings (kissing people on the cheek made some folks feel weird).  I’ve made connections.  I am more a part of the United States than my origin.  I find myself holding onto the…

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