This Fourth of July, I found myself not at a backyard barbecue or watching fireworks like in past years, but at a Mexican restaurant—enjoying one of the best tuna ceviches I’ve ever had, alongside tacos, quesadillas, and queso fundido. We sat outside, taking in the mild summer evening (a rarity in New York). It might seem like an unconventional setting for Independence Day—but somehow, it was just right.

I’m not American. I live here, and I’ve come to love many things about this country: the openness, the possibilities, the unrelenting spirit of striving and reinventing. But I also see how complex things feel right now.

Celebrating freedom and independence means different things to different people. And for me, it’s a quiet reminder of just how much variety exists here—culturally, socially, and personally.