When Paradise Becomes a Prison: A Miami Native’s Struggle
I’ve spent what feels like my entire life defending Miami, my hometown. Back in high school, while most of my peers couldn’t wait to escape to colleges in other states, I couldn’t understand their urgency to flee what seemed like paradise to me. Sure, it wasn’t perfect, but I believed we could build it into something greater if we tried hard enough.
For years, I found myself in countless conversations with colleagues, friends, and strangers, always somehow becoming Miami’s unofficial ambassador. I’d passionately argue the merits of this crazy but magical place to anyone who would listen. Some might argue that’s the basis on which I established my company, Yo Miami. The culture, the energy, the endless possibilities that seemed to shimmer in the humid air alongside the heat waves.
But lately, something has shifted. More and more, it’s gotten harder to stand up and preach the worthiness of this place to its detractors. More and more, it feels like I’m defending an abusive partner, making excuses for behavior that’s becoming impossible to justify.
The recent approval of “Alligator Alcatraz” feels like yet another betrayal in a growing list of disappointments. Our elected officials consistently put the interests of their benefactors and themselves ahead of those of their constituents. The mega-rich and their wannabes continue flocking here, lured by politicians like DeSantis and Suarez who roll out the welcome mat for them at the expense of those of us who actually live here. They find legal loopholes and exceptions that enable them to destroy the very communities that once fostered the thriving culture throughout our county. The system is continually built in a way that allows them to do this with minimal interference from the rest of us.
I’m not sure if it’s because I’m older now, with more personal responsibilities weighing on my shoulders, or because the tide has been gradually shifting beneath my feet, making the struggle to build a better place harder with each passing year. Maybe it’s both.
What I do know is that decisions like this one feel like another nail in the coffin that holds the memory of the place I came from, the place I once loved so dearly. I can’t speak about Miami with the same level of sincerity or lack of qualifiers anymore. The paradise I once knew is slipping away, replaced by something that serves the highest bidder rather than the people who call it home.
The question now isn’t whether Miami can become something greater. It’s whether anything will be left of what made it special in the first place.