As a child, this photo captures a moment where I am carefree. A child of mixed descent enjoying the culture of India. No bias. No disposition. Just appreciation. Photo courtesy of Bozena Winnicka.

They say, “America used to be better,” but better for whom? The first time I heard that phrase, I didn’t even realize I was stuck in a world where culture was downplayed for the fear of not being American enough. Yet now I realize it. José was turned into “Joe,” and Jorge was turned into “George.” Or, in an attempt to be inclusive, they would write “whore-hay” on the attendance sheet so that the teachers who didn’t attempt to learn pronunciation had it easier.

My name survived; Savannah is simple, Savannah was American enough, but I never really identified with the “American image” or the “American Ideals.” Fortunately, I have roots all over the world. My roots come with smells like cumin roasting in a pan along, with dahl being served to me when there was nothing being made, and it was something my grandma had frozen and ready to go. My roots smell like frijoles and tortillas, corn bread and ribs, and Gołąbki. Mexican food, Indian food, Polish food, and classic American cuisine.

Maybe being so ethnically diverse helped me in the long run, for I see beauty in difference. To me, “Make America Great Again” didn’t mean to start talking about borders, it didn’t mean to make fun of the kids who had curry for lunch instead of a ham sandwich, it didn’t mean spelling someone’s name phonetically to avoid confusion. To me, “Make America Great Again” meant never having to question how a nation shaped by every corner of the world could turn its back on its reflection so easily. A country built by a melting pot of faces and ethnicities. Because America’s never been one language and one dream, it’s a quilt; a quilt of worlds stitched together. Each thread carries its own story, its own color, its own beauty. To me, “Make America Great Again” was never about returning to what it was before, but remembering what it’s made of and what it’s become.

To me, making America great again didn’t mean separation; it didn’t mean talking about who belonged and who didn’t. For I hear the stories of the children of immigrants, and those stories really make you see how the foundation of the American promise is cracking. Because when you really see what struggle has been shaped to mean in this country — when America finally opens its eyes to the reality others live every day — it’ll understand why a simple reach for a wallet can feel like a final breath, it’ll understand why the Vietnamese girl, who loves her culture, changed her name from “Linh Nhu” to Victoria. When America opens its eyes, it’ll understand how the racism and the racial slurs that are wrapped in jokes are really never funny, even though the jokes are disguised under a “we didn’t mean it like that.”

I hope for a time when America is truly great again. When the neighbors from Tennessee or Kentucky can gather around with the people from Nepal or Cuba, and share a beer and listen to a little bit of Bachata and some good ol’ Luke Bryan. I hope they get to do this on the same land that they find doesn’t in fact divide them, but actually gives them something in common.

Because America will never be America without the culture it was created in. Culture gives America its groove. The ability to pick up spices that come halfway across the world at a random King Soopers, the classrooms that make accents sound all the same because of its blend of laughter, and the radio stations that blends Country into Cumbia, Punjabi into Pop, Gospel into hip-hop, that… that’s America right there.

When America becomes great again, we’ll know. We’ll know it’s great again when we’re all living the same dream; the dream where we all have liberty and justice, the one where you don’t have to erase where you came from to be accepted where you are now. Because the true American dream isn’t about all living the same story, it’s about coming together, it’s about compassion, it’s about seeing someone different from you but never questioning wether you call them equal or not.

So while I’ve heard that “America used to be better,” I have to disagree with that, but can we make America great again? Absolutely. It would take a whole lot of loving and learning and listening, but a country that embraces every flavor, every face, every struggle, and every story, well, that would be a great country, and that’s what we can make America out to be.