In My Diverse Borough
Representing ethnic communities around the world through food and community, Queens is the most diverse borough in New York City—and it is my home. Still, my family was one of the only ethnic minorities on the block, so I always knew I was somewhat out of place in my neighborhood. It wasn’t until I worked at the local pizzeria that I felt the gravity of being a young woman of color.
As a teenager desperate for money, I worked the phones, organized take-out and delivery orders, rang people up at the register, and made coffee for all the customers. Keeping busy was the only way I made it through that job for five months because every day white people tested my patience, and it wasn’t just the customers.
One of the white pizza makers berated the Latino chefs in the back every day without fail. One mistake on an order immediately made him undermine their intelligence and make fun of their accent. I stood in the middle of the screaming matches, fearing one misstep would lead me to the same fate.
Out of survival, I played nice with the white pizza maker and tried to engage in conversation with him. I told him I was going to college soon and I had been saving up to study abroad. I was met with immediate praise, but then he started to compare me with the Latino chefs. He said I was being smart by getting a degree because those immigrants will always be stuck working in the back.
My eyes widened, my throat clenched, but I stood in silence. I wanted to tell him that my dad is an immigrant, and although he didn’t get a degree he has worked a corporate job my whole life to support my family.
I look back on that moment often as I started college, thinking about the circumstances that immigrants are placed in as soon as they step foot in this country.
My dad has had a job since he was 14. Most of his cash fell into the hands of my grandma to pay rent, no questions asked. He climbed the corporate ladder to support my family of four. The Latino cooks work 14 hours a day to feed their families. They get paid in cash but they are berated and disrespected every day of their working lives.
Immigrants come here for the “American Dream” but are met with a rude awakening. Erika Lee posted online that Haitian immigrants are eating pets in Springfield, Ohio, and “they’re eating the dogs” spread like wildfire and into the mouths of our next president. In my neighborhood, former mayoral GOP candidate Curtis Sliwa has protested to stop migrants from occupying hotels and continues to protest the opening of migrant shelters.
He’s trying to stop people from having a place to live. The Springfield immigrants went there for low-cost housing, but they could not live there peacefully. Not only in the media but in my own backyard, I see the immigrant reality—alienated and afraid.
In my white neighborhood, I realized people lack empathy and are fueled by bigotry. In my white neighborhood in Queens—the most diverse borough of New York City—I realized white people yell while my people keep their heads down and work.
