“Hey, are you having that block party again?” My cousin asked me right before Fourth of July weekend.
“I’m not sure, but I think so, ” I told her. That Saturday I texted her that the block party was happening tonight at 7pm. Her speedy reaction to my neighborhood block parties which we started last year is key to what makes my neighborhood so unique. As I mentioned in my previous article about my neighbors, there’s nothing more diverse than what you’ll see on my block. Black, White, Hispanic, and Asian aren’t the categories we tend to use, we mostly talk about what our heritages are, and I love that I learn about a new culture every day.
As the barbecues start and the hired DJ plays his music at the third house to the left of mine, the party begins. The food on the table and the music blasting behind me makes it very evident just how diverse our neighborhood is.
The sounds of reggae, bachata, current rap and pop music, even the Macarena (which I haven’t heard since the fifth grade) filled the streets of my vibrant neighborhood. It didn’t matter where you were from, you were dancing. I feel like it’s easy to picture my 21-year old cousin and myself dancing the night away, but what about a 60-year old Panamanian woman or a 70-year old grandmother of three from Jamaica? It didn’t matter what was playing, we loved it all and wanted to open up the dance circle to anyone willing to show off their moves.
Now the food table was delicious and I still wish we had leftovers. The chef who works in a popular restaurant in Key Biscayne made delicious chicken wings marinated in his homemade wing sauce. My mother made rice with corn and carnitas (shredded and seasoned pork). Another neighbor made morros, which is a typical Spanish dish which consists of white rice and black beans mixed to enhance the flavor. Jamaican fried fish and Caribbean inspired ribs disappeared quickly. Don’t even get me started on dessert, I was tempted by all of it, but decided to stick with the Fourth of July cake from Publix.
My favorite part of the whole night? No matter how different our cultures were, we were all Americans celebrating a country we all love. We may have come from different places, but everyone living on my block is a resident or citizen of the USA. Many of us were born in America but have families who emigrated from somewhere else a generation or two before us. Getting together that night was not about the aspects that make us different, but what makes us alike. Everyone wore some form of red, white, and blue, we all came together and sang the National Anthem (or at least tried to, my mom struggled a little, but it was funny to watch her really try and get it right), and there was no mention of what makes our country so terrible or what needs to be changed about a certain group of people or party.
As someone who believes in the idea that immigrants make America who we are, this makes me happy. This is my home, where I grew up, the people I was surrounded by, and I get to experience a unique set of cultures that helps me advocate for certain policies that are plaguing American society today. Yes, the country needs some change, but what the Fourth of July represents is that in 1776, a group of immigrants came together and fought for a society they believed in, and based on the celebration that filled the streets of my multicultural neighborhood, no matter where you come from, living in America means you believe in it. That’s one thing we can all agree on.
