A culture of my own :: essays research papers

A Culture of My OwnThe smell of the ocean, palm trees, and the exit of the salsa beats in the distance, characteristics of a beautiful culture. But is that really what My culture is. As a Cuban in America, culture is ofttimes different than that of a island native. My culture, or should I say, the culture that my family has molded into our give birth, is a spectacular one. It may not be the same as it was one-hundred years ago, or even twenty dollar bill years ago for that matter. But one things makes that okay, culture is not written, nor are you born with in. We humans are taught culture. And what Ive learned and discovered on my own is that being Cuban means many things to me it means music and loudness, A visual modality of family memories, and most definitely pride.To begin with, the Cuban culture is one of much loudness and joyous music. Growing up, there was never a day that I did not wake up to the sound of loud salsa music blaring. Or to the loud voices of my mother or grandmother talking. To anyone else this talking would surely be mistaken for an argument or fight. Cuba is where salsa music and the conga drum originated so we work to be very prideful of this. One of the greatest salsa singer/writer was the late Celia Cruz. She was somewhat of a hero to Cuban people seeing as though she had been a Cuban refugee, and became a great success in the U.S. Her recent passing was a devastation, not only to the Cuban society provided to all Latinos and many Americans as well. Which brings me to family. My Mother and Aunts had grown up listening to and admiring Celia Cruz so you can only imagine their reaction to her death. Our entire family was in mourning. effectual kind of silly, but it was as if one of our on had passed. Like many Latin families, mine is huge And what does a huge family mean a lot of parties, weddings, and holidays. Holidays with a Cuban family is a one of a kind experience. There is drinking, music, fun, and of course fights. It i s certainly somewhat of a comforting chaos. This past Christmas, I fatigued alone with my Mother and Step- Father, and it was just not the same.