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As kids, Angela and her peers discovered solace in the festas because they were free to be themselves. They were all-American in school, but here, they were free to worship in their Catholic traditions, to eat Portuguese food, to dance uninhibited while other American teenagers struggled to peel themselves away from the walls of high school gymnasia. It was like a Fourth of July parade and a school dance and a family wedding, all rolled into one."My great-grandparents initially had planned to go back to Portugal, but like a lot of immigrants, never did," Angela told me. "So then this becomes a way to hold onto something familiar."On MUNCHIES: You Gotta Murder the Rooster Yourself in Portugal
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When it was over, teenagers ran around wrapped up in their budding love lives, eagerly awaiting the upcoming nighttime dance—the same one where Angela met her husband. Thousands gathered for the outdoor mass and candlelight vigil, accompanied by busloads of Filipino-Americans who came to join in the major Catholic celebration. Old friends reconnected and introduced their kids, who began to form relationships like the ones that their parents built over the course of many festas."My father told me, 'You're American first and Portuguese second. Never forget that," Angela recalled to me. "And I never have."Follow Ali Wunderman on Twitter.