A Non- Majority Culture: A bag of Shrimp

 When I sit down to think about how my life has been impacted by non-majority cultures I cant help but think about how my life has entirely been shaped by them. I've always tried to be hyper aware of cultures around me and wanting to make sure that I myself am self aware of the privilege I hold. Growing up in Baltimore city I have constantly been surrounded by Immigrant cultures from Mexico, Puerto Rico, Jamaica, Spain and the list goes on, I even had the privilege of attending a high school where my majority class population were studying in the US from different countries. I could pull from many experiences I've felt impacted by different non majority culture however one in particular has stuck with me a lot recently. 

The Francis Scott Key Bridge incident impacted thousands on thousands of people int he recent weeks and it is a more that tragic occurrence that has left Baltimore broken hearted. However, the lives of those lost are even more heartbreaking, 6 immigrant workers of Spanish decent. Coming to the US for a better life from Honduras, Mexico, Guatemala, and El Salvador, these workers had no access to the emergency messages and fell overboard amongst the collapse. 

When this story broke my heart collapsed, not only because what this would mean for the traffic and well being of the city but for the families of those lost. It got me thinking about my immigrant neighbors. I decided with my college roommates to live in a new area of Baltimore this year, one that we definitely stick out in. We live in a community that is mostly home to immigrants and African American families, which was definitely a change from the suburban neighborhoods we grew up in. Different at first we have grown close to our neighbors and have embraced the new experiences we've had in this community. 

One particular story that stuck out to me when the news broke was a time I shared with one of my neighbors. It was the second month I had lived in our house, around 5 o'clock in the morning, I heard a knock on my front door. As I'm the only one that gets up for work at that hour I was up and getting ready  before work called letting me know we had a rain delay at the golf course I worked at. So I had decided to watch TV before waiting to go into work in an hour or so, until I heard the knock. 

Interested and a little scared because of how early it was I opened my front door to my neighbor who spoke broken english asking me for a "Hotshot", confused I asked again, and again trying to make sense of what they were asking me. I was totally unaware of the lingo that when he finally said "Jump" I was overjoyed that someone had asked me for help. For backstory I drive a 1998 Toyota Land cruiser which occasionally needs a little push in the winter months, so I was more than familiar on jumping cars. Excitedly I through on my rain jacket and grabbed my cables out of my car and we got my neighbor (Mr. Fernandez's) car up and running! 

Late for work Mr. Fernandez looked at me, thanked me greatly before stating that he must bring me something in return for my help. To my surprise Mr. Fernandez worked the early shift at a seafood market and had been going door to door trying to find help to make it to work on time. I went on saying their was no need, that I was happy to help and that I understood the urgency and panic that endures when needing your car jumped, but he went on intently stating that he would return the favor. To my surprise around a week later, at 10 o'clock at night I got a knock on my door. After peering through my window I didn't see anyone, but on my door handle hung a bag of shrimp Mr. Fernandez has brought me thanking me for the "Hotshot".

Unaware of the friendship that would follow, I had never expected to find myself so found of an immigrant worker in his late 60's but I was. I look forward to the times we cross paths and jokes we make to each other as we both go to work at 5 o'clock. It makes me think of how victimizing the media can be to Spanish immigrants and how US media constantly underwrites death if those who pass don't look stereotypically American. My heart breaks for those who passed in the Key Bridge incident because I could not imagine if it were my friend, hardworking, funny, and kind Mr. Fernandez.