Viva la Dominicana
I was born in a small, country town in Southwest Florida, so small that people from that region of the world still don’t know it exists. And in that little corridor of American culture, cultural diversity wasn’t as commonplace as it is in other places; you were black, white or Mexican.
My mother, a black woman from Arcadia, Fla, and father, a Puerto Rican from Miami, birthed me on top of the fence of cultural identity. Cultural exploration didn’t happen in the rural areas where I grew up, so I had to decide if I wanted to be Antonio or Tony.
