When I moved from Miami to Medford, I was identified as ‘American’

305 ‘till I die, Miami me lo confirmo, and DJ Khaled’s key to success are a few things that represent my home: Miami, Florida.

Born and raised in Miami, my first language was Spanish. My mom is Cuban and my dad is El Salvadorian. I learned English as I grew up, but it felt as if it were almost unnecessary while I lived here. My parents spoke to me in Spanish, waiters took orders in Spanish, and most people I met greeted me with “Hola” rather than “Hello.”

I am Latin American, even though I was born in the United States. This is also true for my best friends. We were born in the U.S but our parents come from Guatemala, Nicaragua, Argentina, and Mexico, to name a few. We are all bilingual and speak Spanish regularly in our households and in social settings.

But when we went off to college, some of us became American.

I left my little island in Miami called Key Biscayne and arrived at Tufts in early September. As I met peers and was asked where I was from, I said Miami. I didn’t say my parents were from Latin America or that I consider myself Latina because it’s a given right? Wrong.

As I realized I was being pegged for an American, or what Miamians call “gringas,” I modified my answer to, “I live in Miami, but I’m Latin American.” It never bothered me or offended me that I was seen as American, but I was thrown off because it was unexpected. I am Latin American and I always will be, but I was born in Miami and that will always stay true as well.

So I guess I’m just going to have to explain myself.

As my roommate and friends began to pick up on Spanish phrases I say all the time and understand my family dynamic as well as my background, they started to wrap their heads around what being from Miami truly means.

I didn’t think it would have been so difficult to tell people where I am from and get them to understand, but after traveling back and forth from home and school this year, I have come to realize some obvious differences between the two places.

First: you greet people with a kiss in Miami. If this is done at school, peers will probably think you are trying to make a move. Second: people are actually on time at school. “Miamians” are known for being late, so if you say four o’clock, you really mean five. Third: Students eat dinner around 6 at Tufts, so don’t try to eat dinner at 9 PM like you do at home, because Dewick will be closed and you will be hungry. Lastly: Spanglish is not a real language, so only speak it if you don’t want anyone to understand you.

Coming from Miami also means that Sunday is family day and going out to eat with your family is a priority. It means that you’re an expert at dealing with horrible drivers, you go on a boat or to the beach every weekend, you expect to sweat the minute you step outside, you know you’ll see 16-year-olds at clubs, and table manners are an important lesson taught to you by your grandparents.

It was interesting to see how my peers identified me differently when I told them where I currently live vs. when I told them where my parents are from and what I consider myself as. Once my friends got to know me better, they considered me less of a “typical American.” Whatever they mean by that.

After my first year in college has almost gone by, my close friends now ask me for help on their Spanish homework, understand me when I say, “My ‘pantuflas’ (slippers) are comfy,” and appreciate the different El Salvadorian and Cuban foods I have introduced them too. They also eagerly agreed to come home with me for spring break to experience the culture I’ve been trying to explain to them these past months. Lets just say they experienced immense culture shock.

¡Bienvenidos a Miami!