I grew up in Miami in the early 90s. Memories of eating hot-dogs while listening to Oscar de Leon’s Que Bueno Baila Usted and then listening to John Mellencamp’s Small Town and eating arepas make up the environmental paradox that forms my iconic America. I’ve often struggled with the feelings of displacement that stem from emigrating before even entering kindergarten. My perception of America has been engrained in my existence prior to even living here. My first word was in English, my mother’s first car was a red 1965 Ford Mustang and my father had plans to move here even before my conception. The fact is that Miami has been my gateway to an education. I was a citizen long before obtaining that blue passport and there is nothing more American than that.