My dad and I are sitting in a restaurant, a few blocks away from the Walmart we had just left. I am moving into my apartment at Florida International University and my dad flew down with me to help. The waitress comes over and asks us in Spanish what we would like to order.

My Dad looks at me to see if I understood what she said. He never took a language class in high school, but I have five years of Spanish class under my belt.

“Uh… I think she wants to know what we want to order.” I translate. My dad launches into describing his order, in English, and I glance at the waitress who isn’t understanding anything.

We look like ignorant white people, because that’s what we are in this situation. We are like American’s abroad in Europe, expecting everyone to speak English and cater to our needs.

I interrupt my dad’s ordering and use elementary levels of Spanish and a moderate amount of pointing to the menu to describe that we would like scrambled eggs, toast, bacon, and orange juice. The waitress leaves and my dad looks at me to see how I’m feeling.

“This is awesome kiddo! It’s like we’re in another country.” He exclaims as I stir my café con leche. We had run into this barrier all over Miami. The car rental place, the Walmart, even the Dunkin Donuts had been a fiasco for my monolingual father.

The waitress returns with boiled eggs, sausage, and Cuban bread. We laugh because it’s close enough and delicious.

I am 21 years old and fresh out of undergrad at the time of this move. I have only ever lived in Connecticut and Pennsylvania. My only time being out of the country was a trip to Jamaica where we stayed at a resort and didn’t interact with any locals or see any real parts of the island. My experience in being out of my comfort zone is limited to class presentations and singing at open mic nights.

I have never lived somewhere where I didn’t speak the primary language, or know the customs for greeting someone. I had never dealt with a language barrier before and now I was planning to live in Miami, 1100 miles from home, without even purchasing a Spanish to English Dictionary. I was the epitome of white privilege.

But I didn’t move to Miami for the sunshine.

I moved because I needed to be somewhere new. I needed to experience diversity first hand. I needed to confront my privilege head on and learn how to use this knowledge to help people instead. I work with students on a daily basis and I needed to know that I can serve their needs. There was no better way to do this than to dive in head first to one of the most diverse cities in the country.

When I walked into my first staff meeting in Miami, it was the first time in my life that I had ever walked into a room and been the only white person there.

I learned quickly that this is not an experience to shy away from, but rather one to embrace. I learned to shut up and listen to other people’s stories instead of telling my own. I learned that people have been brought up in different ways than how I was raised, speaking languages I will never comprehend, and celebrating cultures I am not a part of. I learned that there is something beautiful in being different, and in embracing these differences.

I have gone to stroll-offs and probates, sang along with Romeo Santos, had discussions about natural hair vs. a weave, and sipped cafecito while waiting for a rain storm to pass. I eventually learned how to say scrambled eggs in Spanish, huevos revueltos, and how to make some kickass empañadas.

But beyond that, I have learned about the struggles that my friends have faced that I never will. I have helped a student get their immigration papers in order, so that they could work in the US and pay for school. I listened to the story of how my boss’s family came to America from Cuba and how it influenced her childhood. I have been able to hear the struggles of a biracial student trying to find her identity and I’ve seen the way that police brutality can literally rip a community apart.

I used to live in a bubble, shielded from anything negative because of my white privilege. I used to ignore the struggles of others because I was never forced to confront these experiences first hand. I used to think that working with diverse populations meant that my best friend was Hispanic and I had a resident who was in a wheelchair. I was so ignorant.

These last 14 months have not always been easy. It is a lot harder to keep your mouth shut and listen than it is to voice your opinion. It is hard to enact changes and alter views after 21 years of believing something to the contrary. When you have the power it is easy to ignore the issues that others face. It is easy to turn your back and pretend it doesn’t exist, because it doesn’t directly affect you.

Being in Miami is a real chance for people to experience a different view. Yes, there are palm trees and beaches and Cuban coffee. There is South Beach and Calle Ocho and a million other fun touristy places, but if you take a minute to look around and experience Miami, you are given the chance to experience a new perspective. It is a chance to step into another country without a passport. There are people here from all over the globe and if you stop and listen, you just might hear their story too.

I am so grateful for my chance to study here and learn about the experiences of my students first hand. I am so grateful that I have been met with welcome arms and people willing to tell their stories.

I still make mistakes and I know that I am not perfect.

I am learning every day.