Appreciate New York Cultures

Growing up in New York City is like growing up in a salad bowl; there you have your lettuces, tomatoes, avocadoes, and bread crumbs. When I was a child, my environment consisted of children with different backgrounds. I was accustomed to hear what other children had to say about their culture; a different world in my eyes.  

One of my first friends grew up in Jamaica. She traveled back and forth during the summers. She would tell me stories of her country and I would listen carefully, trying to find the similarities and the differences from my own home. She spoke in her native tongue, often mimicking her family and friends. From what I understood, she was speaking Jamaican Patois, and although I could never understand what she was saying-the words too different to truly comprehend anything, I thought it was amazing, even slightly funny when she exaggerated.  

Had she said it any other way, her point would have never had the same effect on me. The experiences she expressed would have been missing zest, would have dulled her actions, and bland the interactions. I was never going to mimic her patriotism, her experiences or even her accent because it was her culture, not mine. Her personality was part of her culture and perhaps my inquisitiveness stemmed from that notion.

Living in the New York, I am always finding people from different cultures, different backgrounds. Sometimes I felt envious of other people’s cultural heritage. They seemed greener, healthier and overall more exiting. I loved imagining what it would be like to be raised in another country, in another era, with different foods, and different clothes. I may never know, intimately, the culture of another individual and I accept that, but New York offers a get way to my curiosity. The city is crawling with unique people, all of which stem from background I may not have heard before.

 I can always walk down the streets to learn, to compare and contrast, and just to be aware that there is another form of life other than mine.  Puerto Rico is my favorite culture. It is similar to my own, but every now and then, there is, what I like to call, a cultural boundary. The difference is always so slight that when someone mentions it, my ears perk up, and I am interested in the culture once again.

New York is a huge salad bowl; that is what I always say. It is exiting even in its dullest moments. The fruitful environment seems endless with untold stories, untold cultures, and interesting people.  I hope that one day I will be the one sharing my experiences and my culture, hopeful that the person I am talking to will appreciate that the world as I do.  

Lewis, M. Paul, Gary F. Simons, and Charles D. Fennig (eds.). 2013. Ethnologue: Languages of the World, Seventeenth edition. Dallas, Texas: SIL International. Online version: http://www.ethnologue.com.