Immigrants

I asked myself today what makes someone look “American.” And I realized something that most have forgotten and that is we all come from a long lines of immigrants. Yes I’m an immigrant from a long line of immigrants. My ancestors constantly moved from the dusty deserts of Arabia to the mountain range of Addis. My family’s journey to America was just another step. There are too much connections of loyalty, culture and mixes of languages and colors depend on the hue of one land. So I will forever be an immigrants if that means that I’m a traveler. And just like my ancestors I will fuse my blood with migration and past down this legacy to my children, I will tell them move, go forward, because if you stay in one place for too long your feet will grow thick roots and you won’t be able to move no longer. So I say start on your boots and move, don’t let documents and customized airports define you, don’t be so partial to one color cause your own blood is a mix of so many different flavors and if you do so you’ll be betraying some part of yourself. Make friends with the stars and set foot to places you are told foreign to. And remind them there was a time when there were no borders and in forms when they ask your race always circle humanity.

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