"There is no one more American than a Miami Cuban, and there is no one more Cuban than a Miami Cuban," says Rodrigo, who I meet at the rum bar in Little Havana's Cubaocho museum and performing arts center while waiting for my late friends (a very Miami trait!). "You'll never find a people more patriotic to two homelands." The Miami Cuban community is not monolithic. We are Republicans, Democrats, Catholics, and Santeros. We are the conservative, mostly-white business owners who fled Cuba in the early '60s, and the queer Afro-Cuban artists who were among the 125,000 Cuban immigrants who arrived during the 1980 Mariel boatlift. And we are everything in between and beyond. But if there's one thing that has become crystal clear as thousands march in Miami in solidarity with Cuban protestors, it's that Rodrigo was right: "You'll never find a people more patriotic to two homelands." Nowhere do these co-existing allegiances converge more than in today's Little Havana, the Miami neighborhood where Cubans started settling after the 1959 Cuban Revolution. Little Havana is a funky mix of cultures. It is a place where old-world traditions blend with progressive thinking — where machismo and queerness cohabitate. Tap link in bio to continue on @EDGEmedianetwork ?️‍???? (?️: Ivan Quintanilla / @travelingiq, ?: Gay8 Festival )

"There is no one more American than a Miami Cuban, and there is no one more Cuban than a Miami Cuban," says Rodrigo, who I meet at the rum bar in Little Havana's Cubaocho museum and performing arts center while waiting for my late friends (a very Miami trait!). "You'll never find a people more patriotic to two homelands." The Miami Cuban community is not monolithic. We are Republicans, Democrats, Catholics, and Santeros. We are the conservative, mostly-white business owners who fled Cuba in the early '60s, and the queer Afro-Cuban artists who were among the 125,000 Cuban immigrants who arrived during the 1980 Mariel boatlift. And we are everything in between and beyond. But if there's one thing that has become crystal clear as thousands march in Miami in solidarity with Cuban protestors, it's that Rodrigo was right: "You'll never find a people more patriotic to two homelands." Nowhere do these co-existing allegiances converge more than in today's Little Havana, the Miami neighborhood where Cubans started settling after the 1959 Cuban Revolution. Little Havana is a funky mix of cultures. It is a place where old-world traditions blend with progressive thinking — where machismo and queerness cohabitate.  Tap link in bio to continue on @EDGEmedianetwork ?️‍???? (?️: Ivan Quintanilla / @travelingiq, ?: Gay8 Festival )
"There is no one more American than a Miami Cuban, and there is no one more Cuban than a Miami Cuban," says Rodrigo, who I meet at the rum bar in Little Havana's Cubaocho museum and performing arts center while waiting for my late friends (a very Miami trait!). "You'll never find a people more patriotic to two homelands." The Miami Cuban community is not monolithic. We are Republicans, Democrats, Catholics, and Santeros. We are the conservative, mostly-white business owners who fled Cuba in the early '60s, and the queer Afro-Cuban artists who were among the 125,000 Cuban immigrants who arrived during the 1980 Mariel boatlift. And we are everything in between and beyond. But if there's one thing that has become crystal clear as thousands march in Miami in solidarity with Cuban protestors, it's that Rodrigo was right: "You'll never find a people more patriotic to two homelands." Nowhere do these co-existing allegiances converge more than in today's Little Havana, the Miami neighborhood where Cubans started settling after the 1959 Cuban Revolution. Little Havana is a funky mix of cultures. It is a place where old-world traditions blend with progressive thinking — where machismo and queerness cohabitate. Tap link in bio to continue on @EDGEmedianetwork ?️‍???? (?️: Ivan Quintanilla / @travelingiq, ?: Gay8 Festival )
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