[OP-ED]: Don’t go to Canada yet...
I was in Detroit this week, but I had no inclination to cross the border into Canada— although it was just there, a few feet away. Why? The U.S. —and Philadelphia in particular— feels like home, today more than ever.
On November 9th, despite the long election results night, I woke up earlier than usual, jump out of my bed faster, and before I knew it, I was out of the door, swifter to show up for work than I normally do.
Latino voters, especially those of us who (full disclosure) did cast the vote with the secret hope of seeing the first woman president of the United States, were supposed to feel devastated, even afraid of what the future might hold.
But ask any other entrepreneur in our community and you will be surprised how upbeat they may sound the week after.
The U.S. feels like home, more keenly aware as we are today of all of its virtues and all of its shortcomings— but home anyway, one we have fully adopted, even though some institutions of the country are yet to adopt us in turn. It will be a matter of time, though.
Take the political parties, for example, wrestling this week with the election outcome, the unexpected performance of the Latino vote, and its consequences.
Regardless of which one is in charge in Washington, the day after didn’t feel like the end of the world, as it was announced to us, Latinos in particular.
I wonder if it is precisely this political disenfranchisement we have grown used that leave us with this strange feeling of self-confidence, based perhaps on this simple realization: No one has taken away from us the same assets we had before election day:
Our uncommon labor capacity, our tested entrepreneurial initiative, our desire to always go that extra mile and, no matter what, no desire to wait for handouts from anybody to improve the lot of our families, our communities, the cities we live in, and the great nation we are very proud to call home.
The morning after looks uncommonly bright, because from the beginning, we’ve been used to looking through the inevitable clouds for the glimmers of hope.