I want to begin by saying that I am a proud immigrant from Cuba. I am deeply grateful for the people who have walked alongside me on my life’s journey and for the opportunities that the United States continues to give me.
Nearly 30 years ago, my mother made an incredibly bold decision. She moved to the United States with me and without a dime in her pocket. She took a leap of faith that would forever change our lives.
We settled in Miami, Florida, a place I often call “Northern Cuba.” With its vibrant Cuban community, the aroma of cafecito in the air, and Spanish spoken everywhere, it almost felt as though we had never left home.
The only thing missing was our family.
My mother did not have a formal education, but she did have courage and determination. She worked every job she could find, from cleaning homes to giving manicures and pedicures and working in hotels. These were jobs many Americans did not want, but jobs she was proud to do because they kept a roof over our heads.
My father came to this country in a very different way. He arrived on a makeshift raft, spending three days alone in the open ocean in search of a new life.
He didn’t notify his family. He didn’t tell his friends. He simply left, chasing hope.
During that journey, he quickly ran out of food and water. At times, he had to drink his own urine just to survive. For three agonizing days, he endured the blazing heat of the sun during the day, and the cold pitch-black nights at sea, wondering if he would die on that raft.
Eventually, he made it within just a few miles of Key West, Florida, where brave men and women of the Coast Guard rescued him.
He was allowed to stay in this country because of Cold War immigration policies that welcomed Cuban refugees.
And the point I want to make is this: many people today deserve the same opportunity that my father was given. Without that chance, he would have been sent back to a repressive regime with little hope, limited opportunity, and condemned to a life of poverty.
And for many people who don’t know this part of my story, my father is actually my stepfather.
I want to thank all the stepparents out there who open their hearts and bring families together. It is a reminder that family is not always defined by blood. Sometimes, family is chosen.
My father raised me when I was three years old. Although he never achieved high monetary wealth in this country, he was a hard worker who provided for his family and was always present – we were wealthy in other ways, we were wealthy in care and love for each other. He was always trying to be the best father he could be.
Growing up, like most first-generation children, I served as my parents’ interpreter and translator at school, at doctor’s offices, with landlords, and government bureaucracies. Many of the responsibilities of navigating complicated systems fell on my shoulders from a very young age.
My parents often worked two or even three jobs just to keep our family afloat. And when I was fifteen years old, I began working too, helping contribute financially however I could.
There were times when we faced the threat of eviction. Times when our electricity was shut off because we couldn’t pay the bill. Times when there simply wasn’t enough food on the kitchen table.
We relied on government programs to help us survive.
And even as a child, I understood something very clearly: if I did not work hard in school, I would remain trapped in that same cycle.
Today, I stand before you as the first person in my family to graduate from college, the first to earn a master’s degree, and the first to own a home.
But I did not get to where I am today alone.
I got here because teachers in our public schools stayed after hours to help me succeed. I got here because there were people who believed in me even when I doubted myself. And most importantly, I got here because although my parents worked long hours and were often absent, they never stopped giving me their unconditional love and support.
My parents may never have had the opportunity to live the life they dreamed of.
But they have lived it through me.
My success is their success.
Today, I stand here proudly as the realization of their American dream.