A culture of my own :: essays research papers

A Culture of My OwnThe whole tone of the ocean, palm trees, and the sound of the salsa beats in the distance, characteristics of a beautiful market-gardening. only if if is that really what My culture is. As a Cuban in America, culture is much different than that of a island native. My culture, or should I say, the culture that my family has shape into our own, is a spectacular one. It may not be the same as it was one-hundred years ago, or even twenty years ago for that matter. but one things makes that okay, culture is not written, nor atomic number 18 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 meretriciousness, A lot of family memories, and just about 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 voice s 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 tend to be very prideful of this. One of the spaciousest salsa vocalizer/writer was the late Celia Cruz. She was somewhat of a hero to Cuban mass 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 but to all Latinos and many Americans as well. Which brings me to family. My fix and Aunts had grown up listening to and admiring Celia Cruz so you can only hypothesize their reaction to her death. Our entire family was in mourning. Sound kind of silly, but it was as if one of our on had passed. Like many Latin families, mine is enormous 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 o f course fights. It is certainly somewhat of a comforting chaos. This past Christmas, I spent entirely with my Mother and Step- Father, and it was just not the same.