As the train moves past 125th street, the faces of my community become more familiar: the Latina with whom I never fail to exchange smiles, the Albanian man who lives in my building, and my dominican friend’s father from down the block. Even among strangers, I recognize the tired eyes that blink open and closed and reflect similar experiences of the immigrant struggle. In my Bronx community, restlessness is second nature–sustaining a life in this country is a process that requires time, strength, and determination like no other. Unparalleled grit stays sturdy in the face of marginalization that leaves its traces throughout: aged subway stations, bumpy roads and underfunded schools. Leaving this Bronx bubble, I notice the growing disparities in my city that have awakened my desire to represent my community. I’ve broken the umbrella of naiveté of childhood and have started to pinpoint the faulty parts of my built environment, aspiring to replace them with limitless opportunities. My home is this plurality of identities spread across 75-miles of pride amidst the hardship. Writing our presence in the blank pages of history, immigrants have helped enrich the Bronx streets with hip hop, graffiti art and Latin jazz. The search for these vibrant origins has led me to uncover the transformative voices of the artistic past. From High Bridge to the lower tip of Yonkers, I am one Bronxite curator improving the sturdiness of equity in the shiny glass cases of enduring artistic contributions. Jean Tobar (BHSEC Queens)
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