I am a Dominican York

by Led Black

I am a Dominican York. According to the Urban Dictionary, a Dominican York is either a Dominican immigrant living and working in New York City or an American-born person of Dominican descent who was raised in NYC.

Originally the term was used derisively to refer to the drug dealers and criminals that were deported back to the Dominican Republic after being incarcerated in the states. Dominican New Yorkers have been slowly adopting the term over the years, sans the negative connotations.

I am a Dominican York. That term succinctly defines my existence. I was born in the U.S., but was raised in the Dominican Republic from when I was three months old until the age of five. Inside my little apartment in Washington Heights, it was the Dominican Republic; Mami ruled, Merengue played and mangu eaten, but outside of it, New York City and its accoutrements; Hip-Hop, graffiti and pizza beckoned.

I am a Dominican York. My parents on the other hand, even though they have lived here since the early 70’s, are Dominican. My mom has only a few words in her English language repertoire and while my dad has a more extensive vocabulary, the words he knows are usually curses and only uttered when he is inebriated. I still recall with horror the one incident that encapsulated our different and divergent worldviews.

On this particular day, when I was about 10 years old, my dad came home from the vivero with a guinea fowl. Called simply a guinea in Spanish, this bird is nothing like a chicken. First of all, its feathers are dark, it is bigger and the damn thing slunk around my apartment in a menacing, don’t F-with-me manner. After my dad had his fill of laughing at me, he took the guinea to the bathroom. Let’s just say that poor guinea expired. After the deed was done, my mom promptly took the guinea, cooked it and served it with the de jure rice and beans. While I have to admit that scary-looking guinea tasted really good, I remember thinking, even at that young age; dude this is America, slaughtering an animal in an apartment is not cool. I retold that story to a fellow Dominican York and his response was telling, “Man, that’s nothing, when I was a kid, my uncle brought home a live goat.” Ouch!

I am a Dominican York. I am, simultaneously, inherently Dominican and quintessentially American. I am the best of both worlds. I’m not just a Dominican-American but a Dominican New Yorker from Washington Heights, which is another breed entirely. I have the hard-wired hustle of the Dominican mixed with the never say die ethos of a New Yorker. That is hustle squared.

I am a Dominican York. Pa’lante – siempre pa’lante. Word!

Guest Contributor, Led Black.


Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are solely those of
the author and should not be understood to be shared by Being Latino, Inc.


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7 Responses to “I am a Dominican York”

  1. Love it! Hustle squared! Ha! Captured beautifully. Written eloquently. Pa’lante siempre! Da Heights forever! Wepa!

  2. I love this read. I grew up in the Bronx from Puerto Rican parents and I often tell a story about how I HAD NO CLUE I DIDN’T LIVE IN PUERTO RICO until I was in grade school. That’s right . . . I thought NYC was Puerto Rico. Everything around me screamed PR until my first geography lesson. 🙂

  3. I love this article! I can so relate you what you have written – from the mom ruling the roost to my father wanting to kill live stock in our home-( ours was a pig that cried like a baby) thank you- it’s so nice to know we were not the only ones! Now the the question is what do we call our little ones! cause Domnican Yorks, they are not!

  4. This is hilarious and I;m glad I got to see the reading live haha!

  5. That makes two of us Led! Saludos!

  6. Hey everyone, thanks for the love. It is appreciated.

    Even though the term Dominican York has been around for a long time. My friend, Nuala, was the first one to use the hashtag #DominicanYork.



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