America at 250 Years: Our Superpower Is Diversity

As a Nigerian American walking down a random street in East Oakland, I passed another Black man. We exchanged the familiar slow nod of solidarity that so many Black men instinctively understand. While we completed that small cultural ritual, I noticed a man jogging toward us. I stepped aside to let him pass. He was Asian. At the same moment, we were passing a Latino street vendor—most likely Mexican—selling tacos outside our neighborhood corner store, which was owned and operated by a Yemeni family. Just then, the 40 bus rolled by, driven by a White man.

In the span of maybe twenty seconds, people whose ancestors hailed from the four corners of the globe found themselves sharing the same street, breathing the same air, living in the same town, their destinies quietly intertwined. I caught myself thinking: only in America.

One of the first things that struck me during my travels abroad was how homogeneous many countries felt. In Japan, I remember standing at the famous Shibuya Scramble Crossing, scanning the crowd for signs of Black, White, Arab, or Latino faces. I found almost none. In Mexico City, I saw a handful of Asians sprinkled throughout the city, but for the most part I saw the proud features of the descendants of Moctezuma and Spain. In my father's country of Nigeria, I was surrounded by a beautiful sea of Black faces. In Turkey, I remember walking through the airport feeling strangely out of place, as if I were the only Black man in the building.

Of course, there are places in America where racial diversity is still limited. Parts of the rural South remain overwhelmingly Black and White. Large portions of the Midwest and Mountain West are far less diverse than the nation's major metropolitan areas. But in America's biggest cities and most populous states, you see the country's true face. Children of every race go to school together. They play football, basketball, and baseball together. On any given afternoon, you can walk through a park and see interracial couples pushing strollers with children whose heritage spans multiple continents. In California's technology sector, you'll find engineers from China and India working alongside entrepreneurs from Israel, attorneys from Philadelphia, and executives from Virginia. All of them, in their own way, are chasing the same American dream.

Curious whether my observations matched the data, I did a quick Google search. I assumed America would be the most racially diverse country in the world. To my surprise, it wasn't even in the top ten. World Population Review ranked several African countries as more ethnically diverse. That makes sense in one respect. Many African borders were drawn by European colonial powers with little regard for the dozens or even hundreds of ethnic groups already living there.

But to me, that tells a different story than America's diversity. Take Nigeria, for example, which is often ranked among the world's most ethnically diverse countries. It is home to hundreds of tribes with distinct languages and cultures. Yet despite those differences, those peoples have shared the same region for centuries. America's diversity is something different. It is a nation built by people who voluntarily came from virtually every inhabited continent, bringing with them entirely different histories, religions, cuisines, and traditions before forging a common national identity.

The same World Population Review data becomes even more interesting when viewed through the lens of religion. By measures of religious diversity, the United States ranks among the most religiously diverse countries in the world. That tells a story much closer to what I experience every day. Our Constitution's guarantee of the free exercise of religion has attracted nearly every major faith on Earth. Buddhists, Hindus, Muslims, Christians, Jews, Sikhs, Jains, Zoroastrians, Rastafarians, and countless others all worship openly here.

That religious diversity is not just an interesting statistic—it reveals something fundamental about America. Religion often tells the story of where a people came from. Every mosque, synagogue, temple, church, and gurdwara represents families who crossed oceans carrying not only their possessions but their deepest beliefs. In many American cities, those houses of worship exist within a few miles of one another. A Muslim family breaks their fast during Ramadan while a Jewish family celebrates Passover, a Hindu family lights lamps for Diwali, and Christians gather for Easter services—all as neighbors. That is not an accident of geography. It is the result of a nation that, despite all its flaws, has long offered people the freedom to practice their faith without state interference. If nearly every religion on Earth has found a home here, it is because people from nearly every corner of the world have found one here too.

America has always drawn strength from those people. Immigrants have founded or co-founded nearly half of America's Fortune 500 companies, helping build businesses that employ millions of people. More than one-third of American Nobel Prize winners since 2000 have been immigrants or the children of immigrants. Throughout our history, Americans from every race, ethnicity, and religion have served in uniform, from the Japanese American soldiers of the 442nd Regimental Combat Team during World War II to today's military, where every background is represented. Diversity has never been separate from America's success. It has been one of the engines driving it.

In today's political climate, some people fear this diversity. Others actively encourage that fear because it serves their political interests. They point to America's changing demographics as evidence that the country is somehow being lost. Whatever the exact statistics may be, the broader trend is undeniable: America is becoming more diverse with each generation. To some, that is a source of anxiety. They believe a more homogeneous society would be more unified, safer, or stronger.

I see it differently.

I believe diversity is a superpower.

Different cultures often develop different strengths, values, traditions, and ways of solving problems. That doesn't mean one group is superior to another or that intelligence is determined by race. Human societies adapt to different environments, histories, and challenges. Those experiences shape perspectives. When those perspectives come together, they expand what all of us are capable of accomplishing.

Science also suggests that genetic diversity carries important benefits. Different populations have different genetic predispositions. Some European populations have elevated risks for certain hereditary cancers. Sickle cell trait is more common among people with ancestry from parts of Africa. Type 2 diabetes occurs at higher rates in some South Asian populations, while other conditions are more prevalent elsewhere. As populations continue to intermingle over generations, increased genetic diversity may contribute to healthier and more resilient future generations.

The benefits extend far beyond genetics.

Think about the food alone.

On any given day in the Bay Area, I can eat gourmet cuisine from almost anywhere on Earth. Butter chicken from India. Peking duck from China. Kimchi from Korea. Egusi soup from Nigeria. Sushi from Japan. Tacos from Mexico. Pupusas from El Salvador. Injera from Ethiopia. Kabuli pulao from Afghanistan. Entire worlds of history and culture are available within a few miles of my home. Diversity doesn't just broaden our palates—it broadens our understanding of one another.

The same is true in every part of American life. The civil rights movement was strengthened by Black pastors whose sermons stirred a nation's conscience. Scientists and engineers from around the world have helped make American universities and laboratories the envy of the world. Immigrant entrepreneurs have revitalized neighborhoods and built companies that employ hundreds of thousands of people. Athletes from every background have worn "USA" across their chests while representing the country on the world's biggest stages. Construction workers, nurses, teachers, mechanics, farmers, software engineers, police officers, artists, and soldiers all bring different experiences to the same national project. No single community possesses all the gifts needed to build a great nation. Together, however, we possess them all.

That, to me, is the American experiment.

It isn't always easy. We still struggle with xenophobia, prejudice, and the natural human tendency to distrust what is unfamiliar. Living together has always been harder than living apart. But every generation that learns to work together despite those differences strengthens the fabric of this country.

When I think about America at 250 years, I don't picture a monument in Washington or a history book. I think about that ordinary street in East Oakland.

The Black man who returned my nod.

The Asian jogger weaving through the neighborhood.

The Mexican taco vendor serving lunch.

The Yemeni family running the corner store.

The White bus driver continuing his route.

None of us knew each other. None of us shared the same ancestry. Yet for a brief moment, our lives intersected on one American street corner. We were all simply neighbors, each playing our small part in the same national story.

That's America.

America the diverse.

America the beautiful.

Our diversity is not our weakness.

It is our superpower.