I continue sharing some of my experiences traveling throughout Latin América this Hispanic Heritage Month. As always, it’s my hope that these reflections help you contextualize our region and ignite a bit of curiosity to explore beyond the tourist traps of our countries.
The beauty of the Caribbean can be admired from anywhere in Quisqueya.
Today, I share with you all a bit of my experiences traveling to Quisqueya, the eastern half of the island of Española or Hispaniola as it is known in English. You might have heard of this place by its modern name: Dominican Republic or, in Spanish, República Dominicana.
The ties between Puerto Rico and Dominican Republic are strong. Perhaps not as strong as the historical ties between Cuba and Puerto Rico, but in more recent times, PR and DR have shared much history and culture. The Dominican population in Puerto Rico is quite large. In fact, I would venture to guess that no family in Puerto Rico hasn’t had a Dominican person as part of it. (My own family has welcomed two Dominican people into the fold… and as result of one of these marriages, at least two of my cousins are DominiRican.)
A day trip to the mountains offered a great experience eating right by the stream.
The first time I traveled to Quisqueya was from Puerto Rico. The flight is short, and I did what most Boricuas do when they travel to DR: stayed at a resort by the beach.
But, being the person I am, I could not just stay there. I rented a car and went on to explore at least a little bit of Santo Domingo, its capital city, as well as a couple of cities and towns in the vicinity.
Santo Domingo is the oldest Latin American capital. It was the first city established by the colonizers in the Américas, having been founded in the XV century. (The only city established by the Spaniards in the Américas during that century.) The old city is a beautiful place. I have visited Santo Domingo twice, and I find it mostly charming, filled with history, and somewhat magical. Walking through the ruins of the Monastery of Saint Francis (Monasterio de San Francisco) in the old city is stepping into over 500 years of history, colonization, slavery, and independence. As I walked around the city during my first visit, it was important to me to visit the tomb of one of the most prominent figures in Puerto Rican history, politics, ad struggle for decolonization: Don Eugenio María de Hostos. “Nobody is a prophet in their own lands” goes the saying, and that’s exactly what happened to Hostos. I will not go into details about his life here, but he is known for bringing public education to most of Latin América. Although he received some recognition in his native land, it was his adopted country of Quisqueya who offered him eternal rest. When I visited the first time, his body was the National Pantheon, where the heroes of the nation rest. Standing by tomb was my show of gratitude to Hostos, for inheriting so much to us in Boriquén. The Pantheon in itself is an impressive building filled with history, and a place that the visitor should not miss.
San Pedro de Macorís was another town visited during my first time in Quisqueya. As luck would have it, there was a youth baseball game when I visited. Witnessing this was a gift. Baseball is in Dominican’s blood. Being able to witness a bit of this youth tournament was a great way to see the soul of the Dominican people firsthand. I highly recommend catching a baseball game — of any leagues — when you visit.
The Basilica of Our Lady of Altagracia is an emblem of modernity and Dominican culture.
During my second visit, I traveled to Punta Cana, a very well known tourist destination. Again, as I didn’t want to spend all my time at the resort, I rented a car and went exploring. I drove to the city of Higüey, where the Basilica-Cathedral of Our Lady of Altagracia is located. This advocation of the Mary, the Mother of Jesus in the Christian faith, is the patron saint of Dominican Republic. The modernist building is filled with a combination of ancient and modern expressions of the Roman Catholic faith. It really is worth exploring, as it shows a face of the Dominican culture that is often ignored. The Virgin of Altagracia is part of the national identity of many of the Quisqueyanos. As I drove from Punta Cana to Santo Domingo on this second trip, I made the obligatory stop at Los Altos de Chavón. I didn’t find the place particularly interesting, it’s just a replica of a XVI century Mediterranean villa, but the views are beautiful and the restaurant had a pretty good selection of traditional Dominican meals, which was a plus.
Once in Santo Domingo, I noticed how boisterous the city is. We stayed near the Malecón — the boardwalk — and all we heard were honks and car noise. The constant honking, day and night, was a nuisance and something I didn’t particularly wanted to experience while in town. Thus, I would highly recommend finding places to stay that are a bit removed from the city, or at least not on main streets. The other disappointment I experienced was seeing the huge amounts of trash that washes up on the coast by the Malecón. Of course, this is not a Dominican only issue. The whole Caribbean is responsible for throwing our trash to the sea, making it easy to collect on the coast of our countries. I think that my disappointment was a combination of realizing that this was all of our fault as well as noticing how little the Dominican authorities are doing to keep their coast clean.
Los Altos de Chavón offer a beautiful view of the coutryside.
However, in spite of my disappointment in the city, the drive to the mountains was different. We took a day trip to explore nature. The drive was relaxing and the sights were beautiful. Taking in all the nature of the country was needed after a couple of sleepless nights due to the honking and constant noise in the capital. I found a river with an open restaurant where they bring you the food right to the middle of the stream. You can go to one of the tables by the river and enjoy the freshness of the waters while also relaxing and having some snacks and a beverage. It was the best part of the trip, and I highly recommend exploring the countryside when you visit Quisqueya.
República Dominicana is filled with beauty, history, and personality. The historic sites are worth visiting, as Quisqueya was the first colonial settlement in the Américas, and understanding its history provides much context for who we are today — both as people of the Américas and as Latin folk. I highly recommend driving around and exploring the hidden areas of the country: the countryside, the farms, the small towns… Catching a baseball game or joining a dominos game at any of the main plazas in any city or town are things that every visitor should do.
I want to continue sharing with you my experiences of traveling throughout Latin América this Hispanic Heritage Month. The countries I am sharing about are the ones I have visited, even if just once. Each one of them has their own cultures, their own cuisines, their own beauty, their own challenges, and their own histories. I don’t pretend to be an expert on Latin América, much less on the countries I have visited and only experienced a sliver of what they really are. I am not even an expert in my own country! But these are beautiful places I have visited and I wanted to share a bit of each one with you this Hispanic Heritage Month, in the hopes that it inspires you to visit places that you might have never thought of visiting.
Today, I take you to the land of the Quetzal: Guatemala. The Quetzal is a small bird endemic to certain parts of Central América. Unfortunately, the bird is endangered, and their numbers continue to dwindle. They are also very shy, and in all the years I have visited Central América, including the areas where the Quetzal is present, I have never seen one in real life. That does not take away from the reality that Guatemala is beautiful, full of history and wonderful things to experience, from its culture to its delicious cuisine.
My first visit to Guatemala was by car. I was visiting a friend in El Salvador, and we decided to drive to Guatemala for a long weekend. This was the first — and so far, only — time I crossed a land border in Central América. I drove through the southern part of El Salvador, entering Guatemala through the Hachadura entrance, crossing the Río Paz. This is a border entrance mostly used by trailers, and it wasn’t until almost an hour when I realized that I could’ve skipped the line of trailers and enter through a second gate for passenger cars. The process was different than entering and exiting the land border between the USA and México or Canada, both of which I have crossed in the past. Here, I had to leave the car and
The Río Paz border between El Salvador (right) and Guatemala (left.)
present my passport and pay the entry fee inside the customs and immigration building. Once over the other side, a few miles away from the border, we were stopped and our car searched. Again, a different experience. But the border patrol was really nice and, although I had to pay an extra fee — wink, wink — at the border crossing, the border patrol who stopped us didn’t ask for extra payments. They were curious about the binoculars I had and the Swiss knife I was carrying. Thankfully, they didn’t seize them and we went on our way.
It was fun driving through a country for the first time. We passed several small and large villages and towns, taking in all the beauty of the country. At last, very late at night after I got lost, we entered Antigua Guatemala, the most visited tourist city in the country. Antigua is, without a doubt, one of the most beautiful cities I have ever visited. The first time I was here, with my Salvadorean friend, we visited several churches and ruins, taking in all the history of this previous capital of the former Captaincy General of Guatemala from which many of the administrative business of Central América took place during colonial times.
This first time I visited was during low tourism season, which is honestly the best to visit. The city only had a handful of tourists, and pretty everyone was local. We visited a bar in the main square, and got to chat with the other two people at the bar. It turned out to be a couple of friends, one local to Antigua, and her friend from Perú was visiting. With the only bartender being the other person there, we had a pretty cool, international group: two Guatemalan women, a Peruvian man, a Salvadorean man, and myself, a Puerto Rican man. Central América, the Caribbean, and South América coming together to enjoy some delicious Guatemalan rum.
More recently, I went back to Antigua, as my husband and I visited Guatemala for my birthday last September 2022. The city was as charming and as beautiful as always and my husband was also enamored by the city and its charm. The history of this city is worth learning, as well as taking the time to
Proudly displaying the national flag on a passenger bus in Antigua Guatemala.
explore every inch of the place. Of course, the food here is like in no other place! From the local carts selling all sorts of delicious traditional Guatemalan snacks to the international restaurants with five-star chefs from around the world! I can still taste the delicious French dishes I ate here, better than at any French restaurant I have visited in the USA thus far.
When I returned to Guatemala this past year, our first stop was not Antigua, though. As soon as we stepped out of the airport, we rented a car and drove to Santa Catarina Palopó, a tiny village on the eastern side of Lake Atitlán in the center of the country. The lake itself is beautiful, and the small village was the perfect place to relax and disconnect from the hustle and bustle of work. The village also has a coffee museum, which for me, having grown up in a coffee farm, was wonderful to experience. Santa Catarina also has, like most of Guatemala, a strong Maya identity. This was something that both my husband and I enjoyed, as he is of Maya Yucatec descend. Although their dialects differ (and my husband doesn’t speak Yucatec Mayan, just knows a few phrases and words), there are cultural ties that made this place feel like home for him. The huge window in our room also looked right into the lake, with the tall volcanoes on the other side of the lake. Waking up to this beautiful view was extraordinary. From here we also visited the slightly larger and certainly busier town of Panajachel, where you can walk a couple of miles through their open market and buy all sorts of knickknacks and delicious traditional foods. Our visit to Panajachel was met with a torrential rain that lasted for over an hour, and trapped us at a snacks and beer cart on the boardwalk by the side of the lake.
The view of Lake Atitlán from our hotel room in Santa Catalina Polopó.
An unforgettable experience driving to Santa Catarina from Guatemala City happened as we traversed all the roads with huge mountains on one side and cliffs covered in coffee trees on the other. I am very used to driving through roads like this, as it is very similar to where I grew up. Unfortunately for my husband, this is not what he is accustomed to and he was terrified. At some point, we came to a river — or what would be considered a large creek in the USA — and there was a signed telling drivers to be careful, as the bridge had fallen and cars must cross the river. My husband looked at me terrified and ask, “what are we going to do now?” To which I responded: “We drive through the river!” And off we go! Again, this was not the first time I had driven through a river, and it was just a great and unforgettable experience for us both.
On our way back, we took a slightly different road — although we had to cross the river again — in order to visit the archeological ruins of Iximche. As I drove by, we came to an unfinished road with a gate and a tiny space open on the side. The GPS said that was the route, so we were a bit lost and curious on how the heck we were going to get to the ruins through here. We first asked a kid who walked by and he said the keys to the gate was kept at a neighbor’s house and we should walk there to ask them to open for us. Still perplexed on how we were going to continue our journey, we suddenly saw a small passenger bus drive through the small opening on the side of the gate. I wasn’t sure if this was private property, so I didn’t know if we could go through. But we saw a woman carrying some wood and her kids walking towards our side of the gate and asked her about the route to Iximche. She confirmed we were on the right path, and that everyone has to cross through the small opening next to the gate. We did… and about 30 minutes later, we were at the archeological ruins.
I highly recommend visiting places like this archeological site. The place is a beautiful park for everyone. There is a little museum where you can learn about the Maya culture and the history of the place. Besides, this is so out of the tourists’ path, that you will find yourself as the only non Guatemalans there. It was wonderful!
The bounty you can find at the central market in Guatemala City.
From here we went to Antigua and after a few days at the city, we headed to Guatemala City. Guatemala City is, like most Latin American capitals, a city of contrasts. There are the rich suburbs with the people who, belonging to the place, do not feel like they are from there but want to control the lives of those who are. The poor areas where people survive in whichever way they can. The modern areas where poor and rich mingle; some selling stuff and other buying stuff. There is the central market, where you can see the largest carrots ever grown by human — well, at least in my view — and the most beautiful, organic fruits and vegetables you can imagine. You also can also see the beautiful and creative folk art, clothes, and shoes. This was the second time I visited Guatemala City, and can say that I really like this place.
There is one thing about Guatemala for which I highly admire the country and its people. While most of Latin América continues to produce coffee for the international market while falling prey of the Nescafé ruse to strip us from quality coffee and replacing it with the chemical concoctions that are instant coffees, Guatemala has hold on to their real coffee. As one of the staff told me husband when he asked about instant or at least decaf coffee at the hotel in Santa Catarina Polopó: “Here, throughout the country, we only serve quality coffee. You will not find anything of low quality like decaf let along instant coffee anywhere on these lands.” As the proud son of a former coffee farmer, that makes Guatemala one of my favorite places to visit.
As I continue inviting you to explore the places I have visited in our beloved and beautiful Latin America this Hispanic Heritage Month, I want to bring you with me to Panamá.
A view of Panamá City from the isthmus. The contrast of modernization with tradition is everywhere in the city.
It is possible that the only thing you know about Panamá is the canal. The Panamá Canal crosses the country north to south, opening a waterway for large container ships to cross from the Caribbean Sea to the Pacific Ocean. The Panamá Canal is quite significant for various reasons. First, because ships no longer have to do the difficult navigation around the southernmost point in the continent through Tierra del Fuego, to reach the Pacific Ocean from the Atlantic. Second, because it helped in cutting Panamá from Colombia, from which it was a department prior to its independence. Third, because the canal was USA territory until 1999, and thus, is another palpable reminder of the way in which the United States have had an overarching presence in Latin American affairs. Finally, the canal is also the big scar that divides the American continent, physically cutting the north and south parts of the large landmass that is América.
I have only visited Panamá once. My mentor, friend, and second mother, whom I met while she was a professor at the university I attended, lives there. Her ties to Panamá are strong. When she attended the same school she eventually taught at, she met the father of her sons, who was at the time, an international student from Panamá. Her sons were born there, and currently, her surviving son’s children live there. It makes sense for her, already retired, to live near her grandchildren and son.
A while ago, I decided I wanted to visit her. It had been quite some time since the last time I had seen her, and I felt it was right for me to visit as she had already traveled to visit me while I lived in NYC and she was in Pennsylvania. I also wanted to meet her son, as I consider her a second mother and it would’ve been great to meet my quasi-brother. Up until that time, Panamá had been a layover stop on my way to other Latin American countries. In fact, I had never stepped out of the Tocumén International Airport in Panamá City before. Thus, I didn’t have any expectations from the country, other than meeting my mentor and friend.
The Panamá Canal is the link between the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans.
What I discovered was way more than a beautiful Latin American country! I discovered a country with a complex history, wonderful people, delicious cuisine, and an accent that was so close to my own that I always felt at home.
My friend is a lesbian activist, and as such, I had the chance to connect with the LGBTQ community in Panamá and experience the country through their eyes.
The most significant experience I had in the country, was a visit to the Kuna or Guna people. The Guna are one of the surviving indigenous peoples who the colonizers were not able to erase. Like many other indigenous cultures from around the world, the Guna do not have a strictly binary gender system. In the Guna communities there is a third sex, the “Wigudum”, who play an important role in their societies.
When I visited with the Guna, I had the wonderful opportunity to meet some Wigudum people. Some of them were concerned because, although they had been accepted by the majority of their communities, US-backed Evangelical churches were growing in their communities. This meant that US puritanical and hypocritical mores were being spread throughout their communities, including the marginalization and demonization of the Wigudum. Moreover, the hypocritical aspect of the US puritanical moral code was using Wigudum young people as sex objects in private while rejecting their humanity from the pulpit. At the time, I was serving in parish ministry, and although the church I served is a very progressive congregation, I couldn’t get the guilt off of me. Modern, US Evangelical Christianity is annihilating a culture that survived millennia of colonization.
Still, visiting with the Guna was the most beautiful part of my visit to Panamá. They did not perform for me as a tourist. They did not put on a show to entertain me. I didn’t act as if I knew more than them about their country, their culture, or their struggle. I visited with humility and an open mind, hoping the learn from and with them, even if for just a few hours. I highly recommend connecting with indigenous communities, if possible, when visiting any Latin American country in which there are indigenous communities. Visiting with them will offer a better understanding of their culture, their history, their current realities, and the damage that colonization continues to do.
Sharing with Guna people was the highlight of my visit to Panamá.
Of course, I had the chance to visit the Panamá Canal. It is an impressive view. Watching the huge vessels travel through this intricate piece of engineering is really a sight. It is also an interesting experience to visit the canal zone. The canal was transferred back to Panamá as it was always intended, in 1999. Since then, Panamanians have moved to the zone, while some service members from the USA have also stayed. It is an interesting reality worth witnessing.
The final place I would suggest visiting in Panamá — of the places I visited, because I cannot speak for the whole country — is the old town. Contrary to other old towns throughout Latin America, Panamá’s is small and not well maintained. The structures are crumbling, and they reminded me more of Havana than San Juan. The ruins of the old city are also nearby and they are an interesting place to visit to learn more about Panamá’s development. I am not sure about the rest of the country, but Panamá City is a sprawling experiment on US capitalist development. Huge skyscrapers are being built everyday. Hundreds of housing units unreachable for locals are being sold to international investors with no intentions to help the people of the country. However, since infrastructure is still lacking, water barely reaches the units beyond the third floor, and power outages are very common.
Visiting Panamá was a great experience for me. It showed me both sides of Latin America: the side still connected to our ancestors, cultures, and traditions, and the side that is the unsuspected victim of globalization and US imperialism. As a Puerto Rican, it was a great way to know that my people, my Island, are not alone in suffering the impact of invasive US imperialist policies. As the late Panamanian poet Dimas Lidio Pitty once wrote:
A view of my little settlement of Castañer, where I grew up, in the mountains where the municipalities of Lares (my birth town), Adjuntas (my hometown), Yauco, and Maricao meet.
I continue my journey of sharing with you all during this Hispanic Heritage Month a little bit about each Latin American country I have visited. Today, I want to invite you to come to my own home-country: Puerto Rico!
I was hoping to publish this yesterday, September 23rd, but unfortunately, as the saying goes: life happened. September 23rd is significant for many Puerto Ricans because it is the anniversary of the Lares Revolt, or as we know it, El Grito de Lares. You can read more about this event through the link embedded in the prior sentence, but here’s a short explanation.
In 1868, a group of people from Puerto Rico and Cuba were ready to raise in armed revolution against the Spanish Empire. There were coordinated efforts to overthrow the Spaniard government in both colonies, at around the same time. Unfortunately, the Spaniard government heard about the plans and things had to change. In Puerto Rico, the revolutionaries decided to go ahead with the revolt ahead of the original planned date. On September 23rd, a group from Lares, a town in the mountains of the Island, marched from the hacienda of Manuel Rojas and his family to the center of town. They proclaimed the Republic of Puerto Rico from the balcony of the Roman Catholic Church in the main plaza, and installed a temporary government. As they moved through the mountains to take on other towns and cities, the rebellion was squashed by the armed Spaniard forces, bringing to an end the dreams of a free country. Just a few years later, in 1898, when the Island was just admitted to the Kingdom of Spain as an official province, with representation in the Spanish Courts (Congress), the United States invaded and made Puerto Rico, first, a military colony, and later, an unincorporated territory. Or, in simple English: Puerto Rico is a colony of the United States.
Of course, I have my own opinions about the political realities of the Island. However, this post is about our culture, our island, and the wonderful places you can explore when you visit. If you want my opinions on the political realities, you can find some here on this blog or just by reading some of my posts elsewhere such as my social media channels.
A mural honoring our African ancestors in an ancient building in Old San Juan.
With all that out of the way, here is my beautiful Puerto Rico! Almost everyone who visits the Island stays only in San Juan, the capital city. Although the city has some beautiful, important, and historical places to visit, staying only there is a huge mistake travelers make. It is especially sad when travelers only stay in the Condado area, where most hotels and tourist traps are. If you only visit Condado and Old San Juan, you might as well just stay in Miami Beach, Cancún or any of the other clones of soulless blocks of concrete make for USAmericans’ entertainment. If you want to keep reading, you will know where to experience the real Puerto Rico.
I was born in the municipality of Lares, as a matter of fact. And so was famous singer-songwriter José Feliciano of “Feliz Navidad” fame. But that’s as much as we share with each other. However, the town of Lares itself is worth visiting. Not only because it’ll give you a clear idea of how is life in the mountains, but also because of the wonderful things you can find here. Right next to the plaza there is a famous ice-cream shop where you can have some of the most famous Puerto Rican delicacies in ice-cream form. Arroz con gandules (rice with pigeon peas), coquito (a coconut based drink), rum, garlic, salted codfish, and a bunch of other familiar and unfamiliar flavors are just some of the ice-creams you can try at Heladería Lares. On the way to the town of San Sebastián from Lares, you can also see the beautiful flora of the Island, and even dip into one of the many great waterfalls on the side of the road.
I personally do not enjoy much of the eastern part of the Island. However, there is plenty to visit there. El Yunque is a rainforest that our Taíno ancestors venerated as it is the place where Yucahú, the Supreme Being, resides. El Yunque is also the natural barrier the Island has to stop the constant hurricanes that every year threaten the country. The islands of Vieques and Culebra can also be reached from the eastern side of the country. Although I am not of a beach person, I have enjoyed visiting both islands for different reasons. If the beach is your thing, Playa Flamingos in Culebra has constantly being rated as one of the top beaches in the world. A short small plane ride will take you from the mainland to either one of the Islands, as the ferries that carry passengers and cars are often out of service.
On the mainland, the town of Loíza can show you our deep connection with Mother Africa. Loíza is a town full of culture, rhythm, music, dancing, and delicious foods from our African ancestors. It is quite common to see tambores (drums) being brought out of any house, and immediately a party will start. Everyone will gather around the drums and listen carefully as they communicate with the Orishas who accompanied our ancestors from Mother Africa to the Caribbean. Bomba and plena, two of our African-inspired dances can be experienced here more often than in other parts of the Island. The area of Piñones, just west of Loíza, is a couple of miles of coastline covered with kiosks and food trucks where you can try all sorts of delicious small bites from our culinary traditions.
The Three Kings Hill, entrance to the Pork Highway in the town of Cayey.
On the way south through the town of Cayey, you can find what some have called the “Pork Highway.” This stretch of mountain roads is filled with roasted pork eateries. The Puerto Rican diet is based mostly on pork, and roasted pork — lechón asado — is king here. At the bottom of the road, you can find The Hill of the Three Kings, a monumental sculpture to the Wise Men — or Three Kings — from the Christian tradition, who are said to have visited the infant Jesus at his home to bring presents of gold, myrrh, and incense. Christmas is long in Puerto Rico, starting with the USAmerican holiday of Thanksgiving (the fourth Thursday of November) and running through eight days after the Feast of Epiphany on January 6th. The celebration of the Three Kings — Reyes Magos — is the biggest Christmas party in the Island. A visit during this time of the year is highly encouraged.
I was born and raised in the mountains, so this areas is very close to my heart. I already mentioned Lares, but there are so many other wonderful places to visit around the central mountains range. My hometown of Adjuntas has much to offer. Visitors can see the wonderful work of community initiatives such as Casa Pueblo, a world leader in advancing solar power for underserved communities. The organization also has other initiatives as a coffee farm, organic coffee production, a butterfly farm, and El Bosque del Pueblo, a forest that was reclaimed from the nation’s government and private hands who wanted to mine precious minerals at the expense of the rivers and creeks that run through the area. Moreover, my hometown has lakes, creeks, and rivers you can explore, and the second highest peak in the mountains, Cerro Guilarte, where you can spend a day of hiking. The municipal government also hosts a weekly folk art market at the main plaza (full disclosure, my sister is a town councilmember), and you can find the best bakery goods at a bakery on one side of the plaza while the best pizza in town on the other side. OK, I know I have spent a lot of time here, but I know and love my town, so I had to give it a bit more shout outs!
There are other wonderful places to visit throughout the mountains. Aibonito has the Festival of Flowers. For those who are religious, Maricao has a shrine to the Virgin Mary that is very well known. Las Marías hosts the annual Festival of the Sweet Orange. Jayuya has the highest point in the mountain range, Cerro Punta, the Museum of the Cemí showing indigenous artifacts, and you can hike down to a river with a pretty well preserved collection of indigenous petroglyphs carved into a big boulder known as Piedra Escrita (Written Boulder.)
La Cruceta del Vigía, Ponce, from which you can see the whole city and some of the islands off the southern coast of the country.
In the south, the city of Ponce offers from much to visitors. The area of Serrallés Castle has the aforementioned “castle” — in reality, a huge mansion for the Serrallés family, who were early rum producers –, a Japanese Garden, and the Cruceta del Vigía, a lookout where you can catch a pretty impressive sight of the whole area all the way to some of the islands off the southern coast. The main plaza is also worth visiting. You can shop around the downtown area for folk art as well as for guayaberas, our traditional male shirts. The historic Fire Station is a jewel in the middle of the city. The Roman Catholic Cathedral of Our Lady of Guadalupe displays an ancient icon of this advocation of the Virgin Mary that comes from the town of Guadalupe in Murcia, Spain, from which the Mexican advocation takes its name and likeness. (Yes, the Virgin of Guadalupe comes from Spain. The story of the Mexican apparition is much later, and the advocation comes because the bishop who heard San Juan Diego first, saw in the image a Virgin that reminded him of his hometown.) The Museum of Art of Ponce is another jewel in the south, with the largest collection of art in all of the Caribbean. Still in the southern part, you can visit the beaches in Guánica, while also walking along the boardwalk right on the bay where the USA soldiers invaded the island. In Lajas you can visit, stay, and certainly eat, at La Parguera, a great beach neighborhood with a long history of fishing and community development. It is here also where you can witness the wonders of nature in their bioluminescent waters. If you are lucky enough to be there in a new moon night, you can take a boat to the area where these microorganisms make the dark waters look bright blue with their light.
The lighthouse, cliffs, and beach in Cabo Rojo.
The western part has the town of San Germán, which is deemed the “Mother of Towns”, as it was from here that most of the south, central, and western towns and cities were established. There you can also walk through ancient stone roads, and look at colonial architecture still used today. The Porta Coeli, an important museum of religious art, is located here, as well as the oldest private, religious university in the Island, the Inter American University, which is affiliated with the Presbyterian Church, USA. Cabo Rojo is another beach town. As I said, I am not big on beaches, but Cabo Rojo has the only beach I actually like: Playa Sucia or La Playuela. To get there, you will drive through the salinas, a natural pool of salt water where salt is harvested, and which sometimes looks pink because of the microorganisms that overgrow here during certain times of the year. The cliffs by the old lighthouse are worth visiting, but with plenty of caution as many people have dater nature here, which is never a good idea. Mayagüez is the largest town in the western part. I had the chance to live here while in boarding school in high school, and college. The second largest campus of the University of Puerto Rico is here. The center of the town offers lost of entertainments yearlong, but Christmas is probably the best time of the year to visit Mayagüez. There are always parties on the main plaza, and lots of bars and restaurants offering live music — usually with local artists who might be students at the local UPR campus –, theater productions you can catch at the majestic Yagüez Theater. Rincón, a beach town next to Mayagüez, attracts amateur and professional surfers from throughout the world. The town just recently remodeled the park around the lighthouse, and you can come here to spend a relaxing time, dance to the live music, and catch a sight of the whales that come to this area every year.
The National Monument to El Jíbaro. The jíbaro refers to people from the mountains, usually laborers, who toil the land, work hard, value cooperation and community, and keep a humble semblance. Many urbanites rejected the jíbaro, and some still look down at us. I am proud to come from this culture and these people, and forever will be proud to be a jíbaro myself.
As you drive north, the cities and towns of Aguadilla, Isabela, and Quebradillas offer pristine beaches and a relaxing atmosphere. In Quebradillas you can also find the ruins of the old train that crisscrossed the Island. In the area of Guajataca, the old tunnel offers a pretty cool experience of stepping into history as you walk through it.
These are just some of my favorite places to visit in my Island! Of course, I had to leave so much more, which is equally beautiful. There are haciendas, and parks, and caves, and mountains to hike, and foods to try, and festivals to attend. As you can read, if your visit to the Island only consisted on staying in San Juan, you missed 99% of what makes Puerto Rico, the Enchanted Island of the Caribbean.
Today I continue my Hispanic Heritage Month project of sharing some highlights of the Latin American countries I have visited, by sharing about one of my favorite countries: Cuba.
Puerto Rican poet and revolutionary patriot, Lola Rodríguez de Tió, once wrote a poem which has the following lines:
Cuba y Puerto Rico son | Cuba and Puerto Rico are de un pájaro las dos alas, | of the same bird, it’s two wings reciben flores o balas | they get flowers or bullets sobre el mismo corazón… | over the same heart…
Rodríguez de Tió captured this way the closeness between the histories of her — and my — native Puerto Rico, and our beloved sibling, Cuba. Indeed, the history of the two islands is closely related. Perhaps this is one of the reasons why I always felt attracted by Cuba. Since I was a kid, I wanted to visit our sister island. I had the first chance to visit as part of a religious delegation to work with local churches. Since then, I have visited Cuba a few times in different capacities. Always learning more, and always exploring more places. Havana, Matanzas, Santa Clara, Holguín, Bayamo, and Santiago de Cuba, are some of the most recognized places I have visited in Cuba. I have also been to small towns and communities that are not as recognized, and visited places that are either off limit to tourists or that are not as well known outside of local circles.
Once I finally visited Cuba I understood how close my country and Cuba really are. The people, the food, the colonial architecture, the popular sayings… there is so much in common! No wonder Cubans have been migrating to Puerto Rico for centuries, even before the Revolution. Moreover, the accent of eastern Cuba is quite similar to the mountain accent of Puerto Rico — which is my natural accent.
I have loved every inch of Cuba that I have visited. But continuing with the goal of sharing just a few highlights of my favorite places, I will focus on the places I have enjoyed visiting the most.
Havana is a place that every Latin person should visit at least once in their lifetimes. The city is filled with the resiliency of the people who live in this beautiful island. Walking through the streets of this Caribbean metropolis is stepping into a piece of history of our beloved Latin America. Each building is the still life of a time that is no more. As the rest of the continent moved forward after 1960, Havana stayed there,
frozen in time. The structures, like the people, have witnessed all types of change with bravado and resiliency. Some buildings, like some people, have given in to neglect. The old cars carry the dreams and hopes of a community that desperately claims for some respite. Everyone has someone to blame: the Revolution, the system, the murderous USA blockade, etc. The truths is, as always, more complexed than what we want it to be. This is also reflected in life in Cuba. All these feelings can only be understood if you really listened to the people… both what they tell you publicly, and what they imply subtly through their words. Havana is the place where you will feel this the most.
Walking along the Malecón, you will experience the reality of Cubans. People pacing back and forth. Some looking for their friends. Others just wanting to escape for a few hours from their homes, work, or any other responsibilities by enjoying the sound of the waves and the music coming from all around. Others walk around hoping to fall madly in love with the person who will finally offer them the ticket to liberty. While others, just walk around hoping for a client with whom they can escape their reality if only for a few hours, while also making a buck to bring food back to their families. Havana is a city of raw emotions and complexity.
Santa Clara is the city with which I really fell in love. This city is filled with art, and music, and innovation. Wherever you turn, there is another new experience to have. The pace of the city is slower, calmer, more reflective than in the big city of Havana. It was in Santa Clara where I first experience the inventiveness of the Cuban people. It was here where I fell in love with the art of a local artist who is now famous and lifting Cuba’s artistic heritage up around the world. Santa Clara is one of my happy places, and I can’t wait to visit again.
Matanzas is the city that reconnected me to my Yoruba ancestors. It was the place where I came face to face with the Orishas, who called me back home to their protection. Matanzas was also the place where I learned of the potential that Cuban theologians have to really transform the face of Christianity should the blockade wasn’t there. Their voices are clear, filled with wisdom rooted in their realities, and centered in love, affirmation, and empowerment. Perhaps I wouldn’t have left the church had I studied with these theologians instead of where I went. It was also in Matanzas where I felt for the first time the “summer love” feelings so ubiquitous of teen romance movies. Matanzas keeps one of my most beautiful memories of deep connections with one of the most fascinating human beings I have ever met and whom I will always love.
Finally, Santiago de Cuba is a place that will always be in my heart. Not only does the city and I share a name, but there is much more we share. The eastern provinces have a similar accent to the Puerto Rican accent. It is here where I can visit any place and be welcomed as one of their own. In Santiago, I am just the other wing of that same bird. In Santiago, I am no longer just Puerto Rican, I am Cuban too. It is from Santiago de Cuba where the Bacardí family hailed. They moved to Puerto Rico where they finally established their rum business. Funnily, I have been three times to Santiago and have yet to visit the Museum Bacardí. Each time I visit, the museum is closed for one reason or another. An inconvenience for me. The reality of a tired system for them. Santiago has the fortresses that remind me of home. It is the place where I can eat like a local, in local establishments not for tourists, pay with Cuban pesos instead of the currency for foreigners, the place where I can visit any museum without even having the show a national identity card because they take for granted that I belong there. If there was a city I can call my second hometown, it would be Santiago de Cuba.
There are, of course, many other beautiful places to visit in Cuba. Throughout my years traveling there and nurturing friendships in the island, I have visited the beach town of Guardalavaca, the Bellamar Caves, the Martin Luther King Jr Center, and so many other wonderful, hidden gems. Cuba really is the Pearl of the Caribbean.
When Hispanic Heritage Month was established it was with the idea of recognizing the contributions of Hispanic-Americans (as our community was known) to the United States. Since the term “Hispanic” was a government construct to group a very diverse group of people, other concepts such as “Latino/a” have been used. We understand that not all Latinos/as are Hispanics, and that any terminology used to group our community is going to fall short. Latin America is an extremely diverse region. Our ancestors are Indigenous, African, European, Asian, and of every combination thereof. There are hundreds of different languages spoken throughout the region in addition to Spanish, Portuguese, and Creole. Our histories, cuisines, faiths, values, and every aspect of culture are different. Hispanic Heritage Month is supposed to celebrate this diverse group of peoples, highlighting our contributions to the larger US society, of which Latinos/as have been a part since before the United States was formed as a country.
Yet, for some groups within the Latino/a community, Hispanic Heritage Month can be a reminder of how cultural hegemony erases diversity and identity. The challenge of celebrating a diverse community that does not fit the clear, simple, and binary definitions of the majority Euro-centric American culture reduces Hispanic Heritage Month to a celebration of whichever Latin American cultural heritage is most prominent in a particular context. The month that was meant to celebrate our diversity is reduced to the celebration of the Spanish-Caribbean in the eastern seaboard of the USA, or of Mexican-American communities in the Southwest and West. This cultural hegemony makes invisible large portions of our communities.
Cultural Hegemony Gets Personal
I speak to this from personal experience. When I first moved to the mainland USA it was to the eastern coast. As a Puerto Rican, it was easy for me to find representations of my culture anywhere I went. I didn’t have to adapt my dialect too much and for the most part, people understood when I said “habichuela” or “bizcocho” or “guagua.” The historic large diasporas of Spanish-Caribbean peoples to the easter parts of the USA means that our cultures, dialects, and cuisines are more prevalent. Other people of Latin American descent usually must adapt to these Spanish-Caribbean cultures (Cuba, Dominican Republic, and Puerto Rico.) Once I moved to the West coast, things were totally different. Out here, the prevalent cultures are Mexican and Mexican-American. People from all over Latin America and of any Latin American heritage must adapt to these cultures as they have been adopted by the Euro-American majority as the standard or default definition of “Latinidad.” More concerning is the expansion of this standard definition and its adoption by politicians, nonprofits, businesses, and many other groups.
The invisibilization of non-Mexican Latin people has profound consequences both for our communities and for society at large. Spanish is reduced to one dialect and one accent (usually norteño or chilango) at the expense of the plethora of dialects spoken throughout Latin America and the many variations of the Mexican dialect. Latino Indigeneity is reduced to Aztec and Maya identities at the expense of Mapuche, Arawak, Taíno, Guaraní, Garifuna, and the thousands of indigenous groups that still inhabit Latin America. The Afro-Latino/a identity is forgotten as “mestizaje” – the mixing of European and Indigenous identities – is made the standard of Latinidad. And Protestant, Evangelical, Jewish, Muslim, Buddhist, Hindu, Santero, Espiritista, and other faith traditions practiced by Latin folk are hidden in favor of a particular Roman Catholic experience that doesn’t even consider the beautifully diverse experiences and traditions of non-Mexican Latin Catholic communities. For instance, growing up Protestant, I never observed “Día de los Muertos”, or sang to “La Virgen de Guadalupe” on December 12th. Although I recognize and honor the importance these celebrations have, they do not define my Latinidad, nor do they define Latinidad for at least half of Latinos/as in the United States.
The Mexican cultural hegemony promoted by white supremacy is not only impacting non-Mexican Latin folk. This cultural hegemony also impacts other Mexicans. My husband is Mexican, from the state of Yucatán, and of Maya indigenous identity. In the white supremacist, cultural hegemonic definition of “Mexican” and of “Latinidad”, his accent, his cuisine, and his traditions do not fit. From time immemorial, the Maya people of Yucatán have celebrated “Hanal Pixan”, a month-long observance to welcome back and honor those ancestors who are before us (in Maya tradition, the past is before us, while the present is behind us because we cannot see it.) During this time, families prepare altars, present food and drinks as offerings, and have rituals of welcoming for the ancestors. On three different dates throughout the month a special tamal called “pib” is prepared and eaten with those ancestors. Hanal Pixan has been merged to
some extent with the Roman Catholic tradition of All Souls and All Saints Days, while keeping much of its Mayan roots. But you would never find a hint of this Mexican cultural tradition presented in any of the “Hispanic” celebrations of “Día de los Muertos.” Once again, cultural hegemony erases a part of our identities.
The Causes and Roots of Cultural Hegemony
There are many causes for cultural hegemony. Our own brains try to minimize the use of energy by categorizing things around us in the simplest ways. Culturally, we try to group people as to make it easier for us to understand them. White supremacy in particular has been really great at minimizing differences by grouping folk as “white” and “black” and then assigning value to each category, with lighter skin being more valuable than darker skin. This tool of control offers Latinos/as, who are of every race, a mirage opportunity to “become white” and thus, access power. The lighter our skin, the closer we are to being part of the standard definition of “American.”
It is in this context where we find the first clues to this cultural hegemony imposed in Latinidad. First, the powers-that-be decided that “Hispanic” was a good enough category for people of Latin American descent. This was regardless of their racial background or historical heritage. Whether a person was indigenous to these lands or an Austrian Jew who found refuge in Argentina, now both were classified as “Hispanic” for the mere fact that Spain conquered most of what is today Latin America. Second, when the communities reacted to this misnomer, they came up with “Latino”, and if they were progressive enough, “Latino or Latina.” This at least alleviated the reality of those who, having cultural roots in Latin America, did not have or do not want to be associated with Spanish heritage. The Euro-American majority decided how our community was going to be named, regardless of centuries of self-identification within our communities. Finally, the acceptance of mestizaje as the standard of Latinidad served the purpose of ensuring that Latinos and Latinas thought of ourselves as “almost white” people in the context of the United States. (Please know that this concept is used very differently within Latin America. But I will not be discussing this in this essay.) Erasing Afro Latinidad can only serve the white supremacy agenda, not advance the Latino/a community.
On the other hand, once the stage was set to have a homogenous definition of Latinidad, it was easier for one dominant Latin culture to ignore the rest.
Throughout the years, Mexico has been extremely successful in developing its media presence throughout Latin America. The richest man in Mexico also happens to be the most successful telecommunications executive in Latin American, Carlos Slim Helú. América Móvil, his telecommunications empire, has an almost monopoly of the communications world throughout all of Latin America with the notable exception of Cuba. The Mexican theater and film “Golden Age” marked the scenic arts in ways that no other country was able to do. Today, Mexican novelas (soap operas) and movies dominate most of the TV market throughout the continent. Pretty much any Spanish language singer – and sometimes actors – who wants to have a successful career knows that they must gain over the Mexican market, no matter how successful they might be in their countries of origin and neighboring countries.
As a result of the success of Mexican cultural exports – films, novelas, music, cuisine, etc. – there is no corner of Latin America that has not been exposed to the Mexican dialect (on its norteño and capital city versions), foods, and music, among others. Thus, although pretty much any Spanish-speaker can understand Mexican Spanish, people in Mexico and people of Mexican descent elsewhere have not had the chance to be exposed to our dialects. Therefore, although there are plenty of words in Spanish to call a cake – bizcocho, torta, queque –, pastel has become the “standard” in the USA. If they are only familiar with Mexican Spanish, someone will be very confused when a South American asks them for a torta and find out that they meant a cake, and not a sandwich. That’s because torta is the South American Spanih word for cake, while in Mexico they call cakes, pastel. There are plenty of examples like this, as words for beans (judías, habichuelas, caraotas), pepper (ají, pimiento), banana (guineo, cambur, banano), jacket (chompa, cazadora, abrigo) and many others are Mexicanized and the many different ways in which they are called elsewhere are forgotten.
This is not on the Mexican people’s backs. I am not advocating for the elimination of Mexican dialects in public or private use, nor am I complaining about Mexico’s success in investing in its own arts and cultural programs. On the contrary, I admire the fact that, with the USA being so relentless in spreading American English as the lingua franca, and American music and films as standards, Mexico has successfully overcome this by continuing to produce high-quality content in Spanish in pretty much all the art forms. What I am doing is explaining the reasons why it is so common for the Mexican dialect to be the “standard” for Spanish in the United States.
The white supremacy structures in which the USA operates make it easier for homogenization to take place. It also makes it easier for the rest of us to be invisible during a month that is supposed to highlight the contributions of all our cultures, histories, and identities.
A Possible Solution
Is it possible for this cultural hegemony to be overcome? I believe it is!
If we want to go back to the origins of Hispanic Heritage Month we can hold on to the core of its purpose: to celebrate the contributions of Hispanics and Latinos/as to the USA. It is absolutely perfect to include tacos, tamales, norteño music, and Mexican folk dances in your Hispanic Heritage Month celebrations. And it is equally important to expand this and include other cuisines, dances, histories, and symbols of more Latin American communities. Here are some ideas on how your agency, nonprofit, church, workplace, or any other group can expand their offerings to celebrate our comunidad.
Don’t assume. Ask! It is so simple. Even if you are of Latino heritage, ask around to find out more about the Latino/a community in your area. Even if there is one specific national heritage more prominent than others, I assure you that you will find people of all sorts of Latina/o cultural heritage around. Ask them what would be meaningful to include in any celebration of our cultures.
Learn. Read books from authors of every national background. Follow news from throughout the region so you know what’s affecting local communities with ties to those regions. Read about the history of colonization of USA in our countries of origin so you can understand the patterns of migration of our communities. Watch documentaries about our region and our countries of origin. Attend events created by and for Latinos/as, especially if they are from cultures outside of whichever is the majority Latin culture in your context.
Expand the celebrations. Find out who is the small business owner of a restaurant from a Latin cuisine that is not from the majority Latin community represented in your area. Order from them instead! Introduce even other Latinas/os to cuisines different than theirs. A business can have a whole catered event with different empanadas from all throughout the continent! The same for dances and performances. Bring in tango dancers, include bachata and salsa in your parties, teach a cumbia class during one of the events. (As reggaeton becomes more and more prominent in Hispanic Heritage Month celebrations, I highly recommend checking with people who speak the dialect of the signers, as many of the lyrics can be extremely crass, offensive, and vulgar to specific communities. Also, not all reggaeton lyrics are like this, and I personally enjoy the style, so this is not a judgment on the genre, just a recommendation to make spaces more accessible and safe for all.)
Have fun! Among the many things that unite all our communities is how boisterous, energetic, and fun we are! Whether we call it pachanga, farra, parranda, juerga, fiesta, pary, bembé or whatever other word we have for it, Latin parties are filled with joy and celebration. There might be a time to start, but you never know when the party will end. Have flexibility with your celebrations and let the community enjoy its time together.
Reclaiming La Herencia Hispana y Latina!
Latina trans activist Sylvia Rivera once said, “We have to be visible. We are not ashamed of who we are.” She was referring to the trans community and the LGBTQ community in general. Nevertheless, Rivera was a proud Latina woman too. She never hid her Venezuelan and Puerto Rican heritage. At times, the invisibilization of so many Latinidades makes us ashamed of being public. Many of us switch our accents or use dialects that are not natural to us. Often, we stay silent about our own heritage lest we make those in the majority uncomfortable. That is not the solution to cultural hegemony.
The solution to cultural hegemony is being visible, vocal, and proud of our individual cultural heritage and the many mixes of heritages created in the United States. Our Hispanic Heritage Month celebrations should be expansive and always expanding. It should show every aspect of Hispanic and Latino cultures. Hispanic Heritage Month should be a time to celebrate our diverse Latin heritage in all its extravagance. Let’s bring Garifuna dances, and serve Bolivian salteñas; let’s pour Chilean wines, and enjoy Guatemalan parrilladas; let’s dance to the rhythms of African drums in Puerto Rican bomba and Peruvian landó; serve sopa paraguaya and Dominican mangú… Let’s make every effort to create welcoming and diverse celebrations that honor the richness of our Latin cultures. Let’s proudly and very visibly reclaim our herencia!
The news have reported that the current White House administration instructed the Centers for Disease Control (CDC) from using seven words on their budget documents. With seven days left for Christmas, I decided to take the time to write a piece each day highlighting one of the seven words.
In the Christian tradition there is the sharing of the Seven Words. These are phrases that Jesus shared while being crucified. Many Christian churches share and preach on these Seven Words during their Good Friday liturgies. The Seven Words are the climax of what Christian theology calls “the story of salvation.” The last words that Jesus shares are: “it is finished” (John 19.30) and “into your hands I commend my spirit” (Luke 23.46.) After these words, Jesus expires.
According to the timeline of events, after Jesus expires on the cross he is placed into the tomb and on the third day he is resurrected. This is the hope of the Christian person: no matter how difficult the journey is, no matter how painful the culmination of life is, there is always the hope of resurrection. This is the message of Holy Week.
Why am I writing about Holy Week on the season of Advent leading into Christmas? Because the Seven Banned Words of the CDC are a mirror of those other Seven Words of Holy Week.
The current federal administration has been crucifying the remnants of the facsimile of democracy that the United States had. With each carefully orchestrated move, the current administration tries to diminish the people’s confidence and trust on institutions serve the country. They are intentional in the use of words to describe the institutions that keep some resemblance of democracy. The administration’s furious attack on the free press, their obsession with political rallies a year after elections, their systemic appointment of people completely unprepared and unqualified to lead the agencies they are appointed to oversee, their deliberate construction of lies disguised as truth, the unashamed use of FOX News as state propaganda television, and a myriad other big and small actions that undermine democratic processes are just the tip of the iceberg. The United States democracy is being crucified.
Diversity
Fetus
Transgender
Vulnerable
Entitlement
Science-based
Evidence-based
These words represent all that society stands for when they are on their way to progress. French philosopher and founder of Sociology, Auguste Comte, wrote about the stages of human progress. In Comte’s theory, societies move towards progress. There are three stages of society: theological, metaphysical, and positivist. A theological society looks at an unknown occurrence and places all responsibility on unseen beings that control our destinies. Any possibility of progress is thwarted by the society’s fear of angering their mythological beings. A metaphysical society is in the middle stage. Societies in this stage begin to understand that there are certain things that have an explanation. The understanding of actions and their consequences are part and parcel of this society’s natural development. Neither one of these two types of societies is inherently corrupt or ignorant. You cannot know what you do not know. However, these are not ideal societies. The ideal society is one in which members are exposed to a systemic way of understanding truth. To this Comte called a “positivist society.”
Although Auguste Comte’s positivist approach to explaining society is not ideal, it does have merit, especially taking into consideration the banning of words in certain official documents by the current administration. A positivist society understands that humanity is on a journey forward. This journey cannot be contained, no matter how much the powers that be may try to stop it. Resurrection is the conclusion to the crucifixion. Progress is the conclusion to temporary repression.
Democracies are vulnerable entities. They can suffer from the ego of leaders who place power over service. Interestingly, Christmas is the time of vulnerability. In the Christian tradition, Christmas commemorates the birth of a vulnerable child, from a vulnerable family, who was threatened, even as a fetus, with destruction by its enemies – political, economic, societal, cultural, and religious, among others. Christianity proclaims that this child that was born transcended what humanity understood at that moment about the relationship between humanity and its divine sovereign. Some theologians propose that this transcending experience of God made Sophia, the common image of God as Wisdom, take the form of Christ in the person of Jesus, thus making God a transgender reality showing humanity how close the Divinity is to all of humanity. The diversity of opinions that ages of science-based social studies and evidence-based conclusions have shown us, is evidence that societies do tend to move forward towards progress and positivism. It is our responsibility, our duty, and even out entitlement as engaged members of a functional society, to be in solidarity with the vulnerable democracy that we are so desperately trying to save. Resurrection is the conclusion of crucifixion, even during the time of Advent and Christmas.
Yesterday I worked a twelve-hour workday. The day before I had worked for thirteen hours straight. The day before was nine hours. I had taken exactly two days off in four months since I started my new job. I have worked on weekends and even when I have given my staff a day off, I have gone to the office or worked from home to finish a project or start a new one. My staff is always supportive and they have, on more than one occasion, asked me to take it slow, to pace down, and even encouraged me to take a day off. The Board of Directors of my organization expects me to work hard, but they have also encouraged me to practice self-care, to take time off, and to work at a healthy pace. I can show you emails, texts, and social media messages I have gotten from staff and Board members encouraging me and reminding me of practicing self-care. Yet, I continue to work.
Why do I do this? Sure, I love what I do. I thoroughly enjoy administration, management, strategic planning, and all that comes with this. But there’s a second, equally important reason why I work so much… and it is not because I am a workaholic.
The first new world in learned when I moved to New York City in 2000 was “spic.” There was a definition attached to this term. The spic is a lazy person; they live off of government handouts, they despise work, they are irresponsible, the have moved in droves to New York City and had made the space less livable, less desirable, less safe. The spic didn’t speak English and didn’t want to assimilate to the evidently superior “American” culture.
People – especially USAmericans – have been enraged with President Trump’s comments about how Puerto Ricans have not done enough to help ourselves in light of the major natural disaster we have just experienced. For Trump, we are lazy people who do not want to work collaboratively. This is what he was taught about our community in the New York City of his early childhood. For the USAmerican public, for the most part, these are atrocious accusations. For the Puerto Rican community, these are just the same comments we’ve been hearing since our community started migrating to the mainland in the 1950s.
Although I commend and welcome the rage that Trump’s comments have sparked among my USAmerican friends, you must understand that his comments are not made in a vacuum. Trump is talking about the lazy spic that I have been told I am.
As a Puerto Rican living in exile, you are taught that you are part of a group of people who are, at once, “job stealers” and “lazy people.” How is it possible that we steal “American” jobs and don’t work enough at the same time, I have no idea.
Perhaps for many of you it was a surprise that the President of the United States depicted the people of Puerto Rico as lazy people who do not help ourselves. However, this is what we have heard as a community since the 1950s when our people started migrating in droves to the USA due to the economic realities of the Island cause, precisely, by the USA’s policies towards its colonies. It is this message the one that is still ingrained in my head, to the point that I work and work and work, lest someone accuse me of being lazy and not doing enough.
This is not something I am making up. Neither is this something that happened a while ago and certainly not in so-called “progressive” spaces. On the contrary. This thinking that Puerto Ricans, and Latino people in general, are lazy is still alive. Take, for instance, what happened to me for four years while I served a progressive congregation in one of the most so-called progressive cities in the USA. A woman who self-appointed as the leader of the church would call my office at random hours of the day, just to check that I was there, just to make sure I had come to the office that day. She wouldn’t want to talk to me. She just wanted to make sure that I was there. Her excuse was that she had heard I had not been active in the community, or doing enough home visits to the folk in the congregation. She used her self-appointed status as a leader of the church to let me know that “there were concerns” in the church that I wasn’t being effective. Of course, like any good oppressor, she couldn’t notice the flaw in her argument: I had to be in the office so I could demonstrate that I was doing my job of being in the community and visiting folk.
When you are confronted with this reality every day, you learn to navigate the system. You know that you must be perfect, perform beyond what people’s perceptions of your abilities are, and work twice as hard as anybody else. No wonder the great Nuyorican poet Pedro Pietri wrote about our community:
They worked
They were always on time
They were never late
They never spoke back
when they were insulted
They worked
They never took days off
that were not on the calendar
They never went on strike
without permission
They worked
ten days a week
and were only paid for five
They worked
They worked
They worked
and they died
They died broke
They died owing
They died never knowing
what the front entrance
of the first national city bank looks like
Juan
Miguel
Milagros
Olga
Manuel
All died yesterday today
and will die again tomorrow…[1]
My niece, Emely, is nine years old. She is bright, and funny, and loves to read, and loves math, and wants to become a singer and actress. A couple of years ago she had a list of books she wanted me to buy for her. Of course, as a bibliophile, I complied and bought all the books she asked me for and more. When I visited her again, she told me about one of the books I had given her.
I still remember when Emely started school. Since Emely grew up in a Spanish-speaking household, when she started school she didn’t speak English. She learned the language from her teachers and her classmates. On one occasion, when I asked her to speak Spanish with us and use English for other conversations in order to help her stay bilingual, she said something that shook me to my core. “Spanish is UUUUGLY!” she said. With a heavy heart, I asked her why she said that. She said that everyone in school said it. Spanish is ugly. English is beautiful.
I have talked with Emely about the importance of learning as many languages as she can. I have told her about the importance of using both English and Spanish to communicate, and to take any opportunity she might have in the future at school to learn other languages. I have told her how proud we are of her. I have continued to make sure that she is proud of her Mexican heritage and that she understands what it means to be a USAmerican too. I have shared with her my own Puerto Rican culture and heritage and have encouraged her to adopt what she might want to adopt from it. I have shared with her how wonderful it is to have a non-traditional family, and what a blessing it is that she has a wonderful, supportive, caring mother, and two dads, and so many uncles and aunts, and siblings who live in different homes, and a madrina and a padrino who care deeply for her.
Today, as a white supremacist, xenophobe, and sexual predator took the oath of office as President, I worry about Emely and her future as a Latina woman growing up in the USA. I know I cannot protect Emely or her brother all the time. I also know that her parents’ immigration status prevents them from providing all the protections that she – both of them, my niece and my nephew – deserve. But there are some things I can do. I can join the RESISTANCE and stand up for my niece.
And so, Emely, I will march tomorrow, Saturday, January 21st. Emely, I will answer the invitation from other women around the USA and the world to stand up to injustices against women. Even though you might be too young to understand, I will march because I love you, because I respect you, and because I believe in you as a woman.
There are also other reasons why I march in solidarity with my niece tomorrow. These are not the only ones, but here are some reasons to march:
I march because I believe that my niece Emely’s brown body is hers and only hers. No one, no matter what position of authority they might have, even if it’s the Presidency of the USA, has the right to touch your brown body, let alone grab it violently and without permission.
I march because I believe that you have the right to education, and that you have the right to make choices as to how far you want to take your education and what profession to pursue or not pursue. You have the right to access a job that is suitable to your abilities and your passions, and to be paid fairly and at the same rate than any male who will do the same job.
I march because, when the time comes for you to make choices about your body, it should be you, and only you, who make those decisions. Because your brown body is yours and deserves to be respected and honored. Because your brown skin is beautiful, and normal, and is neither “exotic” nor a stereotype to be paraded at the whim of those with power.
I march because I know that your parents can’t be exposed to deportation and because I want to continue being your uncle, not having to be your foster parent should something were to happen to my brother- and sister-in-law.
I march because I believe that, although you have been raised Roman Catholic, you should have the right to make the decision that makes YOU comfortable. I march because, if in the future you want to wear a hijab, you should be able to do it without fear of intimidation. I march because if in the future you choose not to believe in anything, you should not be punished for having no religion.
I march because I believe that you should feel safe in wearing whatever the hell you want to wear in public. I march because I believe that you should feel safe walking down the street and that no one should be cat-calling you, or intimidating you, or threatening your life and safety.
I march because I believe that you should be free to choose to love whomever you want to love, just as I love your uncle who gave me the blessing of being welcomed by this wonderful family that now both you and I, as outsiders, call “nuestra familia.” I march because I believe that you should love as many people as you wish to love and not being condemn for it.
I march because, if I march today, I know… I know… that by the time your Quinceañera comes, this will be a safer place for you and all your loved ones.
I could continue listing reasons to march, Emely, but I can’t. My eyes are filled with tears – you know how much I cry – and I can’t write anymore. But be sure, sobrina, I will march for you. I march for you, mi querida sobrina. I march because I know that staying home is not an option.
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