Through my work on the Immigrant Archive Project, I have interviewed thousands of immigrants about the lives they left behind—and the ones they built here.

But some of the most revealing interviews I have ever conducted took place much closer to home. I interviewed my parents, and I interviewed my three daughters. What emerged was not simply a family story. It was a generational arc that explains how America renews itself.

We arrived in the United States as refugees from Cuba in the fall of 1967. My parents came with a five-year-old son, a single suitcase, and an unshakable belief that their children would live better lives.

They started from zero. My father worked constantly. My mother raised our family while quietly helping build its foundation. Everything they did was an act of faith in a country they were still learning to navigate.

Their children inherited their sacrifice.

But my daughters inherited something else entirely.

Their mother is Irish-American, rooted here for generations. Their father arrived as a political refugee. They grew up inside both histories at once.

When I asked my daughter Sarah how she identified herself, she gave me an answer I will never forget:

“I’m not half Cuban and half American. I’m 100% Cuban and 100% American. I’m 200%.”

There was no confusion in her voice. Only certainty.

They move effortlessly between languages, traditions, and perspectives. They celebrate Nochebuena in Spanish and Christmas Day in English. They understand that identity is not something fragile to be defended—but something expansive to be lived.

They embrace differences naturally, and refuse to be divided by them.

My daughters are not members of Generation Alpha. But they represent an early expression of a reality that has now become far more prevalent among its members: the bicultural child born not between worlds, but within them.

For Generation Alpha, this reality is no longer the exception. It is the norm.

They are comfortable in complexity. They see diversity not as a threat, but as the default setting of their lives. They expect brands, leaders, and institutions to reflect the world as it actually exists—not as it once was.

They hold corporate America, media, and society itself to higher standards of inclusion and authenticity—not out of ideology, but out of lived experience. Because this is their reality.

Organizations that fail to recognize this shift risk more than irrelevance. They risk alienating a generation that already represents tens of millions of Americans—and will soon represent the majority.

After reading David Morse’s recent book, Polycultural Intelligence: Eight Rules for Connecting with Generation Alpha, I felt compelled to explore this evolution through the lens I know best: my own family.

Because the immigrant story does not end with those who arrive.

It continues through those who inherit what was built.

My daughters live here with belonging.

Fully American.

Fully Cuban.

Not half of anything.

But entirely themselves.

And in them, I see not only my family’s future—

but America’s.