Chomping on spicy Mongolian Beef while discussing the overly dramatic life of a middle schooler with my 13 year old Guatemalan brother is why I’m proud to be an American. America-I can think of no other place that people from every corner of the globe can genuinely call home.

When envisioning the Melting Pot, I would instantly refer to New York City because that’s what I was taught to do in fourth grade while learning about the diversity of our country. Looking back, I now realize that city is only a gateway to a flood of culture and difference throughout the entire nation.

African, Indian, Puerto Rican. If you can’t find something to love about the Land of Opportunity, find something to love about those who occupy it. Sure I could vacation to Yemen, but I could also walk five feet from my desk in my Health Occupations class and spark up a loosely English filled conversation with Hamzah and get a first hand example as to what life is like in the Arab country.

The thought of someone abandoning their native land to experience life in America is both beautiful and terrifying. I’ll never be able to experience the culture and lifestyle in every country or island that makes up the planet, but with the help of those who come to the United States, I can get a slight taste of what the other side of the big pond has to offer.

Those inhibiting America from foreign countries are my heroes; citizens of the United States need all the culture, diversity and reality they can get. Life would be black and white if it wasn’t for those who had enough disposition to relocate to a land just as foreign to them as theirs to us.

It’s reassuring to know that while those from lands far and wide seek something better in America, they are also bettering America as a whole. I’m proud to call myself an American because while I’m sharing my home with the world, the world is sharing itself with me, and there is no sweeter feeling.