Xavier's Revenge

Art of the Gilded Age/ Social Justice & Visual Arts

2012-01-19T22:50:00.002-06:00

Thomas Eakins
Max Schmitt in a Singule Skull, 1871

Let's Deport Everyone!

2011-09-30T21:31:00.003-05:00

The current, hotly contested debate on immigration is moving more into the realm of the extreme. And it is going to get hotter and ever more dangerous! Newton’s Third Law of Motion states that “for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.” The action? Decades of a broken system that deports and separates thousands of families that have undocumented and documented members. A system that also promotes the destitution of hundreds of thousands of young people who cannot go to college because they came to the U.S. as paper-less children. Moreover, legal proposals that instill fear and hatred for the more than 12 million undocumented.

The reaction? Millions of people, mostly Latinas/os, marching on March 10, 2006 and every May 1 since then in cities across the country, demanding comprehensive immigration reform. Another reaction was an increase in Latina/o voter participation, especially in swing states, that voted for President Barack Obama because he promised to address immigration in his first 100 days. Due to former Chief of Staff Rahm Emmanuel and others in his close circle, he never followed-up on his obligation. In a last-minute gesture, he pushed for the passing of the Dream Act, a bill that would’ve provided a path of citizenship to the foreign-born if they came to the U.S. as children and either went to college or joined the military. The Democrat-controlled Senate rejected it twice.

Now we have another sort of reaction, one that could have been expected, but many wished would never come. A national move to the Right. The result of the midterm elections was a Republican re-take of the House of Representatives, an increase in the Senate, and a ridiculous 690-seat gain in state legislatures across the U.S.

On January 5, in a press conference by the “Coalition of State Legislatures for Legal Immigration,” the new goal for the right-wing was made clear. Challenge the 14th Amendment of the U.S. Constitution, which allows for citizenship by anyone born in the country, in state government so that it can climb the ladder to the federal level. In essence, the vision is to deport all of the “anchor-babies” of the undocumented, along with their families. According to one Oklahoma legislator, the issue of citizenship is the “holy grail of the illegal immigration debate.” For a California Congressman, the issue is about proving that “it takes more than walking across the border to become an American citizen. It’s what’s in our souls.” Six states, from Pennsylvania to Nebraska, are beginning to discuss such legislation and the coalition is pushing 40 other states to do the same.

One of the main arguments for this attack on a 143-year-old Constitutional Amendment is that the U.S. is one of the few countries in the world that allows birth-right citizenship. This is true. No country in Europe does so, and some, like Ireland, France, and the UK have repealed such laws in the recent past. Hatred for the “other” is the main motivation. For the Europeans, it is the belligerent disgust for the Roma peoples or “gypsies,” that are “diluting” their alleged national cohesiveness. And even more ironic is their hatred for Middle-Eastern and African peoples, who, as former colonial subjects in their vast Empires, were contracted to work to maintain their economic productivity. If anyone thinks that anti-Latina/o racism is not motivating the immigration debate in the U.S., think again! After the draconian SB1070 law was passed in Arizona, allowing police authorities to detain anyone “who looked like” they did not have papers, another deceitful bill was approved. HB 2281 bill outlawed all ethnic studies classes from K-12, most notably Chicana/o studies, in a largely Mexican state (and a former territory of México).

It is evermore frightening when it was the “Tea Party” – a loosely connected body of reactionary populists who want to reinterpret the constitution to meet their own, utopian ends – who put these demagogues into power. But this utopia is, obviously, not for everyone. Whenever there are those who are openly calling for the exclusion of human beings while using language that speaks to an almost spiritual calling blessed by God, beware of their final solution. In the distorted rationale of such movements, “the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away.”

Originally published in January 2011 gozamos.com and La Voz del Paseo Boricua newspaper

Don't Ask, Don't Tell, Don't Challenge Anything

2011-04-11T18:37:00.002-05:00

In the national pantheon of lesbian and gay history, President Obama will have a special place for his accomplished effort to repeal the “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” (DADT) regulation in the United States military. DADT, a controversial measure since its inception seventeen years ago, officially allowed lesbian, bisexual, and gay people to join the ranks of this country’s most revered institution, only if they did not reveal their sexuality. On December 22, 2010, President Obama, after a majority vote in Congress four days earlier, finally signed into law the revocation of this discriminatory measure in the presence of a large, supportive crowd in the Interior Department auditorium. Many in the media and friends and associates of mine understandably applauded this act for its human rights contribution and the potential momentum it could offer to a national LGBTQ movement. However, another message was also sent that day–one in which for some is an oversight, while for others is the crux of a malicious agenda: if LGBTQ people want any sort of recognition or civil rights, it is done by including ourselves into this society, not by challenging it. The end result will not be true societal transformation or liberation for LGBTQ people, but the promotion of politics of assimilation that do not represent or address the interests of much of the “community.”

It does not take a fool to recognize that DADT was discriminatory and unconstitutional, as ruled by California Judge Virginia A. Phillips on October 12, 2010 in response to a lawsuit by the Log Cabin Republicans. The origins of the regulation are from the Clinton administration’s quest for complete inclusion of lesbian, bisexual, and gay people in the military. Prior to DADT, recruiting officers were obliged to question and screen potential candidates for “homosexual tendencies.” This was done in order to “protect the morale, mission, and accomplishments” of this prestigious fighting force from such a “severe personality defect,” as stated in official documents. Of course, top military leaders and the public refused to accept drastic changes, so a deal was struck. Gay, bisexual, and lesbian people could serve silently without questions but be discharged if she or he “came out.” In an announcement of the new policy on July 19, 1993, former President Bill Clinton argued that it was “the right thing to do and the best way to do it.” Ever since then, there has been a trend in the national LGBTQ movement to push the policy further, for complete and utter integration and acceptance of lesbian, bisexual and gay people in the military.

However, it would be too easy just to say that the military is discriminatory and should be more open and not inquire if we should be validating such an institution in the first place. There lies a problem. The voices that advocate for LGBTQ social justice but not in a way that accepts current institutions for all their violence and inherent exclusionary power, are left out of the dominant discourse. It is our responsibility to ask the question: when and how does an issue become an “LGBTQ issue”? In other words, who has the power to mark an issue as representing a particular group identity? Who has the resources to make something important at the national level? How inclusive is a civil rights campaign? More importantly, which issues are deemed more important and for what reasons and what compromises are made and at whose expense? It is no coincidence that a conservative organization, whose Board of Directors are made up of all homosexual white men – the Log Cabin Republicans – were the ones who filed the successful lawsuit presided by Judge Phillips. Organizations such as this, whose core values include a “free market, limited government, and a strong national defense” do not have the interests of all LGBTQ people, especially those of queer people of color, in mind.

In an act of political protagonism, the Obama administration requested in an appeals court a judicial halt of Judge Phillip’s order to the Pentagon, which was already preparing to stop following DADT after the ruling. The Supreme Court also upheld the request by the presidential administration. This was all done so that President Obama could take full credit in destroying the policy, since he has come up short on other campaign promises. This is where things get interesting. The repeal was passed as a stand-alone bill because it was taken out of a large Pentagon policy bill that Republicans were filibustering. Republicans, as the alleged guardians of a moral conservatism that seeks to uphold the institution of family, voted in large numbers for the repeal, but only after it was taken out of the original package. The reason? The bill included Democrat-sponsored last-minute provisions, most notably one that would have created a path to citizenship for undocumented peoples who came to the U.S. as children. Without coincidence, the DREAM Act had been defeated again around the same time of the DADT debates. The successful lawsuit by members of a conservative elite and the belligerent refusal to pass any sort of comprehensive immigration reform speak to what is the national LGBTQ movement. It is about polishing or should I say, “whitening” the image of LGBTQ people into a non-threatening package. In other words, dirty, brown immigrants are threatening this country’s institutions, while the clean, white gay man or lesbian down the street are playing by the rules even if they are a “little different.”

Luis Aponte-Parés and Jorge B. Merced in “Página Omitídas: The Gay and Lesbian Presence,” pinpoint the socio-historical origins of a movement that initially sought radical social transformation and an agenda of cross-cultural and political connections to one that “excluded or subordinated other types of oppressions.” In their study of the Puerto Rican and Latina/o presence in the emergence of an LGBTQ movement in the 1960s and 1970s, they saw that those with power, capital, and access created an agenda that served their interests, which were for white, middle-class gay men, and at times, women. This exclusive vision is evident even in the DADT spectacle, where the presence of transgender voices were absent. But those deviants don’t matter, right?

We should have a much more open society, without a doubt. However, nowhere in the call to remove DADT was there a call to the end of the wars in Afghanistan or Iraq. The discourse has been: include us in society and not reshape it to meet the needs of everyone. In very few prominent places is there a call to reshape an institution in which people learn to kill and conquer foreign lands. Imagine a world in which the resources used to dismantle DADT were put in–with LGBTQ people at the forefront–to change U.S. foreign policy and the devastating mission of the military all together. The immediate and long-term results of dismantling DADT will be the swelling of the ranks of a massive military industrial complex, making it a more effective fighting force of death and destruction. When there are those who say all this was a success for the movement, one must ask, for whom? For transgender people who still cannot serve? For people of color, who enlist in higher numbers, who not only suffer homophobia and transphobia, but housing discrimination, income inequality, and everyday racism? For us, the military becomes an only escape out of poverty and lack of opportunities. For the millions of people around the world who become causalities of war? Now that DADT is repealed, a new kind of policy has emerged, one which says don’t ask questions, don’t tell any truths, and don’t challenge anything too much. As LGBTQ people, that is not the kind of movement we should be applauding or building.

Originally published in the January edition of La Voz del Paseo Boricua and Gozamos.com

The Politics of Flags, Gandules and Lechón

2010-12-21T22:43:00.003-06:00

Oye, if you haven't noticed by now, I love the Puerto Rican people so much. We have done many great things and we have an abundance of potential. Nonetheless, due to the fact that we have been dragged through the mud of history for so long, we have picked-up some negative habits that act as barricades in our way to a healthier, more vibrant community.

Por ejemplo: Anyone who even briefly listens to a fast-paced, ficha slamming domino game or catches some bochinche hidden between the aisles of the grocery store, will notice the common “Pero bendito,Puerto Ricans are just so lazy” or “We are not united like the Mexicans are!” It is just too common for us to think of ourselves as just collectively lacking y punto. Instead, I suggest, there should be a: “Las cosas son bien malas, but look at all we have accomplished!” or “how do you think we can change things?” And even better: “how can I challenge myself and my people to address certain issues that is understood as pressing and important?” I assure you, things would be much different for us as a community if we all asked questions that were a little more critical and dedicated even a little time to making things better for us all. This is not to fall into the same trap of cynicism from atop an ivory tower, but to push and agitate the people that I care so much about.

Undoubtedly, there will be those who will respond to all this with: “but I don't get into politics.” Others, even worse, will say “¡La gente de La Division son bien locas!” because many of us working in the community believe in independence for Puerto Rico, which is an often tainted idea. Sorry to shock you though, Boricua, but politics is does not exist just through a ballot box or marching down the street, but can be found in everything we do, like at a domino game or the grocery store. Mejor dicho, Puerto Rican identity and culture is highly political and the expressions of which speak to strong beliefs that can serve as points for community action.

Many of our people enjoy the smell of arroz con gandules don't we, with a little lechón on top of that during Christmas Eve while playing parranda in the background, right? What did it take for that to even be possible, decades after Boricuas came to the U.S., and still be present amongst the third and fourth generations? Those everyday things like food and music from an island across the ocean, reveals the collective push to affirm that we should not erase who we are. While other ethnic groups were skillfully allowed to Americanize over time and forgot their language and traditions, Puerto Ricans never hyphened our identity to “Puerto Rican-American.” As the salsa lyrics by the black Boricua composer, Tite Curet Alonso, eloquently states, “Yo sé que no te gustó que yo plantara bandera, pero a lo hecho pecho, también yo tengo derecho” (“I know that you didn't like that I put up my flag, but what's done is done, I too have a right”). Even our flag, made in 1895 by pro-independence exiles in New York City and made illegal until 1952, is a colorful political statement that we are here and refuse to change, especially in the United States.

Just recently I took my grandmother and her partner to a concert of age-old Puerto Rican music full of trovadoras and rapidly playing cuatro guitarists from the island and Humboldt Park and noticed the songs, sung by young ladies of the mountains, praising “our flag and our nation.” And interestingly enough, as I looked to my left, I saw my grandmother and her boyfriend – in their 50s and 60s - teary-eyed and quietly emotional. I asked if everything was ok and she responded: “This reminds me of my parents and my childhood... I miss Puerto Rico.”

She has been in the U.S. for 43 years and her boyfriend, for only 3 years. Their time of distance is different but their physical distance is not. They no longer live in Puerto Rico, but Puerto Rico stays alive in them and those, like myself, who cannot remember dancing danzas at weddings under the palm trees. But still, we are Puerto Ricans, whose identities are located here, in Chicago and in Humboldt Park, different but with strong connections, like Spanglish, simultaneously new and old. We are The New Boricuas, you can say and saying so is very political. And as we see ourselves as political beings we must, hopefully, see that each and every one of us can be actors in social transformation and must do so on behalf of the needs of our people.

Originally published in La Voz del Paseo Boricua newspaper, December 2010 edition

A Chicago Puerto Rican in Hartford

2010-12-21T22:29:00.008-06:00

It always baffled me when friends and colleagues of mine would see me outside of the fluid boundaries of Humboldt Park and comment, “Oh wow, you’re outside the two flags!” While such remarks are made in fairly good-humor, they are more telling about the deep-seated feelings about people who do community work. In other words, “those activists” are too narrow-minded or insular; they do not experience or understand the world outside a few blocks, which of course, is bad. All in all, a sentiment of “I could never do that kind of work, because I’ll end up like that” is felt. That kind of idea only damages the possibilities of maintaining and expanding work that seeks to improve the lives of community residents. And more importantly, those who get hurt the most in the process are the very residents themselves.

Just recently, I traveled outside the neighborhood to attend the Puerto Rican Studies Association Conference in Hartford, Connecticut. Although I listened to the work of the Puerto Rican intelligentsia, which for me proved that our communities can also produce great scholars and intellectuals, I also wanted to understand what connections could be drawn between academia and the people they study. This faraway New England city always peeked my interest due to its very large Puerto Rican community, which, in terms of proportion, is the second largest in the U.S. Plus, the mayor and much of the political establishment is led by Boricuas. Therefore a few friends and I ventured outside the walls of the swanky hotel where the conference was held to see what links could be made between Paseo Boricua and Park Street, the economic and cultural center for the Hartfordian Boricua.

As we walked down Park Street, there were visible signs of urban decay and poverty: the multiple young men, walking around with seemingly nothing to do and some “run-down” homes and buildings. Of course, this is what outsiders too often focus on, especially when visiting communities of color. What is most important and amazing, and perhaps sometimes even overlooked by community workers and academics, were the distinct signs of economic and cultural development. Block after block there were small business ventures that included everything from restaurants and cafes, to bookstores, record shops, and jewelers. As I entered these places of business, it was obvious that they were all owned by Puerto Rican and Latina/o longtime residents who also employed longtime local residents of color.

Social networks and civic engagement seemed to be rich, with residents conversing with each other as they walked down the street and in cafes, and some passing out information on electoral candidates. Furthermore, there were multiple buildings that have been reconstructed to look like structures in Viejo San Juan, with pastel-colored façades and iron-gate balconies. The neighborhood also included murals and community centers that depicted cultural and political themes of the island. Yes, social ills existed, but there was a community that was economically vibrant and culturally puertorriqueño – an important place in which to continue addressing the problems we face as a nation.

In Humboldt Park, we are also developing our community on our own terms, similar to that of Hartford, by holistically intersecting economics, politics, health, housing, and education within the framework of Puerto Rican identity. All this is done with the idea that in a racist and classist society, how can we own the places we live in, create a legitimate internal economy, and address the issues that affect us. Thus, to those that say that community workers are too “stuck” in Humboldt Park, I say that it takes a strong connection and sense of rootedness in your own community to truly appreciate and understand what others have built and to create a common agenda that will lift us all up as a people.

Originally published in La Voz del Paseo Boricua newspaper, November 2010 edition

I'm more Puerto Rican than you...

2010-12-21T21:51:00.006-06:00

As I have written before in this column, the issue of Puerto Rican identity, especially for those who are from the Diaspora, i.e "Diasporicans" (Boricuas in the U.S.) is a complicated and even painful one to discuss.

Who defines who is and is not Puerto Rican?

Why do Puerto Ricans that are second and third generation, who cannot speak Spanish and have only seen the island in the photographs, proudly display the flag on everything, from tattoos to car stickers?

Are Puerto Ricans on the island really in a privilaged place in terms of knowing who they are and where they stand as a people?

To research these questions, I turned to none other than facebook – the social networking website - to began a discussion. I began it with a statement that I do not believe (and it will explain itself as you read), but wrote it to stir people's minds and emotions. I hope the comments selected will enrich your opinions and thoughts on Puerto Rican identity. The following is an abridged (and grammatically correct) version of what transpired vis-à-vis Facebook:

Me: I'm more Puerto Rican than any Boricua born on the island because I have had to fight for my identity instead of having it handed to me...

Diasporican #1: AMEN!!!! How can I even begin to explain that to others??

Islander #1: Everyone has their own experiences... I don't know if you are more Puerto Rican but ultimately it is the way you feel...

Diasporican #2: It's interesting you say that because I've had this discussion with my cousins on the island, and they just don't get it.

Islander #2 (my aunt): And of course I disagree with you at least 50% of the way. You know your history, you fight for Puerto Rican rights in Chicago, you live the flavors. You might be more Boricua than some but not most. There's a couple of people that discredit our island but most of us love our background. We do have a love-hate relationship with Puerto Rico but you have to live here (not read about it or experience it during vacations) to understand that. That's why no one from here will ever understand or accept when you say you're more Puerto Rican than the ones living here, but if that's how you feel, ok.

Islander #3: You think we have not fought for our identity Xavi? You don't think as a Puerto Rican I struggle everyday to show these mofos we exist? You don't think it hurts when I see maps in history books that don't even have the island on it? You think our identity is handed to us just because we were born en la isla? La isla, its already a dilemma my man. Its even harder, you know why? Because I was born in a place like no other: with their own traditions, culture, climate, people, their own selves; yet, we are not recognized. We are "La isla del encanto" con el desencanto de no ser nada. Ni esto, ni lo otro. We too have to fight for our identity, much more than anybody. ¿Dónde nació Pedro Albizu Campos, Ramón Emeterio Betances, Juan Antonio Corretjer? No fue en New York, no fue en Chicago; yet, this are los próceres, the ultimate fighters of our independence, the people you emulate. ¿Dónde nació Lolita Lebrón? ¿Dónde nació Filiberto? Who organized and said to La Marina "salte pal carajo de Vieques"? Nobody gave me my identity, nobody gave nobody anything. You could be from NY, CHI, Puerto Rico. If you identify yourself as a Puerto Rican you are still looking for your identity and ESPECIALLY if you were born in Puerto Rico.

Me: I'm loving this discussion. I do have to say that identity is much more complicated than one thinks. I myself began this discussion with an essentialist view of identity... and I did it on PURPOSE. Do I believe Puerto Ricans on the island or in the Diaspora are more Puerto Rican than each other? NO! Because we are a nation of 8 million, not just 4 million on the island or in the Diaspora. The point of initiating this discussion was to 1) To prove to everyone, even my dear Titi, that it is painful and wrong to say a person is "more" than someone else, especially in terms of identity and 2) To see the different reactions between my friends who were born or live on the island and those who are “”Diasporicans”. The differences are clear. All those who were born or live on the island reacted negatively to what I had to say while my fellow “Diasporicans” cheered me on. Isn't that ironic? LOL

Me: Oh an by the way, even though I agree with you 100%, Lolita Lebrón joined the Nationalist Party in New York City. The campaign for the freedom of the five Nationalists began in Chicago. The last grouping of Puerto Rican Political Prisoners were almost all born in Chicago or in New York and the campaign for their freedom started in Chicago. Betances wrote his most eloquent writings in Paris and Hostos did so in the Dominican Republic and Chile, and Juan Antonio Corretjer wrote “Boricua en la luna” in Chicago, which is the greatest proof that without the Diaspora, Puerto Rico would be incomplete. Oh, and the Vieques movement would not have been successful if it wasn't for the compañeros in the U.S.

Islander #2 (my aunt): Well I think you're full of it. Even if you were trying make some kind of experiment, of course we were going to get offended. It's like if I say I'm more American than any soldier who has served in Afghanistan or Iraq.

But you're right, there is a difference between Puerto Ricans who live in the U.S. than those who live here in Puerto Rico. We think it's very funny when you people demand liberty, equality, march and complain about our social/democratic issues when all you know is due to books and newspapers.

When you all move here, work here and contribute here then we can actually talk more seriously.

Me: Ok, Titi, let's take back that Puerto Rican flag you hold so dear and bring it back to New York where it was made. When you're willing to do that, then I'll say what you wrote makes sense.

Also, who's "you people?" Let's not be essentialist here and regroup everyone into one experience and category. I guess my "experiment" didn't really work, because you still feel you have the right to define who's a "true" Puerto Rican...

Through observations, I believe that the two things that elicit the most discussion from Puerto Ricans and even divides the Puerto Rican family is the conversation on puertorriqueñidad and the status of Puerto Rico. In terms of identity, as you have read, there is no easy way to describe what constitutes a “true” Puerto Rican and what criterion exists to allow someone into the category of “Boricua de pura cepa.” But here is some food for thought:

When one actively excludes people from a community, you are actively developing feelings of anger, sadness, and confusion. However, one also fans the fires of empowerment and affirmation. It is like when my grandmother came to the U.S. in 1967 and was “greeted” with racism. In turn, she held onto her Puerto Rican roots and worked to instill in her children and grandchildren the beauty of being Boricua, even though most were not born there. It pushes me to tears when some of my cousins call me “American” instead of what I truly am. How can you tell a little boy, with a smile on his face and a Puerto Rican flag, during a hot summer day during the parade that the symbol he carries does not represent him? And that is why the “Diasporicans” cheered me on in the discussion. They, too, know the pain of being ignored, the love they feel for a country that sometimes wants to forget that half of its citizens left the island, but those same citizens will have Puerto Rico in their hearts and memories, forever

Originally published in La Voz del Paseo Boricua newspaper, December 2009 edition

Are Puerto Ricans Really Lazy?

2010-08-06T23:04:00.005-05:00

One time, on my blog (www.xaviersrevenge.blogspot.com), someone made an anonymous comment that I wear my Puerto Rican pride “like that kid in High School who thinks he discovered Led Zeppelin, and for 4 years wears black zeppelin shirts to school.” Although I don't particularly care for the music of Led Zeppelin (no offense to his fans), the remark made me question whether there is anything wrong with being proud to be Boricua and displaying that nationalism in everything I do.

Growing up, my grandmother would occasionally comment to me that if she could be reborn that she would be Puerto Rican all over again. I would ask quietly in my hand, whats so special with being from a tiny little island like Puerto Rico? Ironically, in conversations on the islands future political status, my grandmother would say that “que los boricuas son bien bagos” and cannot survive as an independent nation. How could a woman with so much national pride and dignity at the same time limit our own collective potential?

Around my neck, I wear a macheté to remind me of my familial roots – for my grandfather and his father before him who toiled in the U.S company-owned sugarcane fields. Everyday, they rose at the crack of dawn to sweat under 100 degree weather while wearing long-sleeve shirts and gloves, cutting the hard, human-size sugarcane stems while the fields crackled with fire, engulfing them with smoke. I invoked this memory to my grandmother when she made the comment and the fact that at age 18, until she was 8 months pregnant with my aunt (who now is getting a doctorates in Education), she worked, standing for hours on end, at a factory in a new country, during the middle of a Chicago winter. Los boricuas son bien bagos, ¿verdad?

Countless Puerto Ricans in Chicago have similar stories to these, many of which will never be told. However, what can be told is recorded facts of the collective possibilities of the Boricua people.

On their website, the Puerto Rico Space Grant Consortium states that Puerto Rico is the leading producer of Latinas/os in the United States who have a bachelors degree in Science, Technology, Engineering, and Mathematics. According to the consortium, islanders receive 17% of those degrees, while they account for only 9% of the Latina/o population.

Furthermore, according to a 2005-2006 study from the American Chemical Society, the Mayagüez Campus of the University of Puerto Rico graduates more chemical engineers than any college in the entire U.S.

While reading the article, La Radio Ante Nuevo Retos, by Elmer Gonález in La Claridad newspaper (May 20-26, 2010), I also discovered that the fifth radio transmission in the entire world and the second in all of Latin America took place in none other than Puerto Rico on December 3, 1922. What were the first sounds broadcasted from the radio station? The musical notes of our beloved national anthem, La Borinqueña.

And we don't even have to look to the island to see how Boricuas are able to accomplish so much. One of the first Puerto Rican families in Chicago, the Sanabrias, were pioneers in engineering and television. According to the 1989 book, “Chicago: Historia de Nuestra Comunidad Puertorriqueña” by Manuel Martínez, the Chicago-born Boricua engineer, Ulises Armand Sanabria, was the “builder and engineer of the first television station in Chicago on June 12, 1928” and founded the Sanabria Television Corporation in January, 1931 where he produced the “first 10' television pictures for public viewing.” He also founded the American Television Institute in 1935.

This is only a small glimpse of what we, as a people, have accomplished. This is not to say that other people of different nationalities have not accomplished great feats, but it is my attempt to chip away from the prevalent cynicism and self-hate among our community. As for my grandmother who, after years, made these negative comments about Puerto Ricans. Well, she promised to stop. Why? Well, I told her that if she wanted people to look upon her and her people in a good light it all must begin with herself – we have the key to our image.

So often, we are hooked on whats wrong and “bad” about our people and community – we just need to learn how to see the world differently. If you, the reader, were to look at Division Street and Humboldt Park more than just a ghetto and see how the Puerto Rican community has transformed those spaces into something to be proud of, then you will understand what I mean. Then take it further and think of how we, as Boricuas, with so many obstacles in our way, are able to accomplish so much and how we continue to do so, together, as a community, here, on Paseo Boricua.

Originally published in La Voz del Paseo Boricua, June 2010 edition and Que Ondee Sola July 2010

The Students Are the Guardians of a Radical Past

2010-08-06T23:00:00.003-05:00

What began in April as a call for a 48-hour student strike at the University of Puerto Rico (UPR), Río Piedras campus, is now reaching its second month. This student struggle has not only surprised and mesmerized multiple political sectors of the island, from the university administration and the central government, the independence movement and the unions, but more importantly the general populace and the international community.

As reported in our last edition of La Voz del Paseo Boricua, the student strike that has now extended to all 11 of the campuses of the university system, began as a response to the austerity measures of the school's administration and the government of the right-wing and pro-statehood Luis Fortuño. UPR is no exception, with the government vying to reduce its legally-binding subsidies, but the students have been keen in defending their “right to education.”

On July 1, the 14-member National Negotiating Committee (NNC), which was chosen in democratic student assemblies of thousands of participants, clearly stated the students' demands to the island through multiple internet and radio outlets.

Demand number one: withdraw Certification 98, which removes student waivers for many students and university employees and their families. Demand number two: stop the policies of privatization of any campus. In essence, UPR must remain a public university. Demand number three: end the rise in tuition costs. And the last and fourth demand: no legal sanctions against any student who has participated in the strike. The UPR administration has not fully promised to meet these demands and thus, the students remain unwavering in this struggle.

The message also reported that tuition was raised 33% in 2005 and a total of 16% in 2007 and will, once again, be raised this upcoming August. Furthermore, the students stated that in a letter sent by the UPR administration on June 28, 2007 and one sent in 2009 by the President of the Board of Trustees, Ygri Rivera, that “raising the cost of tuition is not a viable solution and will not resolve the situation.” Meanwhile, the administration has admitted that it has been “incapable of collecting more than $300 million in debt owed to UPR.”

The students, in the face of so much defamation and lies, have remained strong in their convictions, as well as their character. Students have painted murals, conducted educational theatrical performances, study groups, community clean-ups, their own radio station, Radio Huelga, and will even organize their own graduation on June 13. This strike has offered the concrete application of student skills, proving that political struggle and community work is also bastion of educational possibilities.

Nonetheless, on May 20, numerous students were arrested and dozens of others were beaten, in broad daylight and in front of Univision news cameras, by the police for simply protesting in front of the Convention Center where Fortuño was speaking. Two days earlier, after numerous violent altercations instigated by the police squad guarding the Río Piedras campus gates, the students and the unions joined in a peaceful national march and strike that invoked thousands of people.

On May 22, in solidarity with the general strike, the Union for Puerto Rican Students (UPRS) student organizations at Northeastern Illinois University and the University of Illinois-Chicago hosted a “Charla sobre la Huelga Estudiantil en Puerto Rico” with the President of the Comité Pro-Derechos Humanos de Puerto Rico, Eduardo Villanueva, J.D., as the main speaker. In the intimate conversation on Paseo Boricua, with over 30 people in attendance, the prestigious lawyer described the UPR strike as new hope for the island in continuing the radical work for political and social change that was established in decades pasts. This is echoed by the main slogan and website of the NCC, “UPR es un País” - “UPR is a Country.” The student strike is intricately connected to the problems facing Puerto Rico and as such, the students are offering solutions, ones that should be applied throughout the nation.

Originally published in La Voz del Paseo Boricua, June 2010

From Barrio Dream to Nightmare, But With Hope

2010-08-06T22:26:00.004-05:00

“Rather than... building up real estate holdings and a retail sector that could cushion the community against bad times... many [Puerto Ricans] relocated repeatedly, sometimes by choice but often not. The villains of the true West Side Story are demolition crews rather than street gangs.... In fact, Puerto Ricans have done well when they have had something like a successful barrio experience.” p148-156 in Strangers Among Us by Roberto Suro.

So often violence that is in your face, covered in blood, sensationalized on TV, and done by our young people is spoken about. One form of extreme violence that is often ignored is that of people being kicked out of their homes, slowly. In Humboldt Park, with the rising of rents and property taxes and the greed of city inspectors and real estate developers, thousands of Puerto Ricans have been forced to leave our historic home. Still, many remain despite the obstacles they face.

Not long ago, I met Albert Méndez, a Boricua who has lived in Humboldt Park all his life and despite all the obstacles him and his family have faced, refuses to give up, pack up, and leave the community. In 1994, while still in his mid-twenties, he bought a three story property in the community, where he is raising four children (one of which is in college studying biology) with his wife, Daisy, while working in a youth program. Then the violence of a demolition and construction crew crashed into their barrio dream.

In 2005, a real estate developer sought to buy his and his parents’ property and when they refused, he bought the home that was sandwiched between their two properties, demolished it, and constructed a huge condominium. In the process, the construction crew destroyed one of the Méndez’s building foundation. “It was like an earthquake,” says Albert while he gave me a tour of the building and video captured after the event.

According to Mr. Méndez, when the foundation was destroyed, as well as the gangway of his parents’ home, the construction crew fled for a while only to return denying any wrongdoing. Nonetheless, they fixed the gangway of his parents, but refused to do the same for the Méndez family for the very fact that it would cost about $170,000-$175,000 to fix the damage. The destruction (both initial and long-term) includes a carbon monoxide leak and a sewer collapse in the basement, cracks in the apartment walls and the brick frame of the building, collapsed ceilings in the apartments, water leaks, and the list go on as well as a tilted building. The most scary aspect is that the building’s second foundation, which was untouched, prevented the building from completely collapsing. Much of these things had to be fixed out of Mr. Méndez’s pocket since he is a responsible landlord, and his insurance company also refused to pay since it was not damage caused by a natural disaster.

A legal battle ensued between the family and the developer, which continues today. “I’m not looking for compensation, we just want our home to be fixed to the way it was,” says Mr. Méndez. In a sinister twist of events, his lawyer put a lean on the condominum so that while their case in pending, the developer could not sell it, but in turn he filed for bankruptcy, the bank took the property, and then sold it for $600,000. “There’s time you get to the point... that you want to take your loss and leave,” says Mr. Méndez, but with still a feeling of hope and determination to rectify the wrong.

How much more of the violence of displacement can our community take? Some people question why is it so important to continue to develop a Puerto Rican barrio, especially in the midst of so much adversity. As long as Boricuas like the Méndez family do not give up, we cannot as a community give up either. However, we also need to struggle as a community, to do more on the issue of gentrification, before it is too late.

Originally published in La Voz del Paseo Boricua, July 2010 edition

A Day in Support of Affordable Housing

2010-08-06T22:18:00.015-05:00

On April 24 the ¡Humboldt Park NO SE VENDE! campaign, alongside the Bickerdike Redevelopment Corporation (BRC) organizing department, mobilized nearly 70 community residents and activists to collect 451 supportive signatures for the not-for-profit housing corporation’s Zapata Apartments in Logan Square’s Armitage Avenue Corridor. The petition drive included a day of conversation about the project, a door-knocking workshop, and two and a half hours of door-to-door canvassing from North to Central Park Avenues, Armitage to Kimball Avenues.

The massive petition drive was organized around the theme of supporting affordable housing in our community. As one volunteer, Ramón Sánchez, 18, stated: “I do support affordable housing. There are some people, like minorities, who need it because of the [bad] economy.”

Although, the ¡Humboldt Park NO SE VENDE! campaign focuses primarily in the Humboldt Park community through the organizing of residents to support the development of Paseo Boricua, the organization holds onto the idea that an attack on affordable housing anywhere is an attack on affordable housing everywhere. Nowhere is this more true than in the recent onslaught of misinformation surrounding Zapata Apartments, promoted by self-interest groups and individuals, such as the so-called “Armitage Neighbors Together” (ANT).

In 2003, community-led planning sessions through the Logan Square New Communities Program identified a shortage of affordable rental housing near under-enrolled elementary and middle-schools. BRC was asked by the Logan Square Neighborhood Association to be the developer of this much-needed project. As Joy Aruguete, Executive Director of BRC eloquently stated, “All of our projects is at the behest of community residents.” For 42 years, the aforementioned housing organization has just done that, building about 1,000 rental units of affordable housing in communities such as West Town, Hermosa, Logan Square and in Humboldt Park, where it just recently completed its massive three-building La Estancia project on Paseo Boricua.

Zapata Apartments has been in the process for nearly five years and just when it was gaining steam, ANT emerged with a long-awaited attack, even going as far as suing the city of Chicago for supporting the project. Throughout the years BRC has met with thousands of community residents in the area, even those who initially opposed the project. “We have no reason not to meet who are anti-affordable housing [people],” says Mrs. Aruguete. However, it is not dialogue that this opposition is seeking. Many of ANT’s members are real-estate developers angry at the prospect of a community developing on its own terms without the need for the ridiculous profits that have displaced thousands of working Puerto Rican and Latina/o families from Logan Square and Humboldt Park.

In a lawsuit filed just moments after ANT officially applied for a non-profit status, the group claimed that Zapata was an “unconstitutional re-zoning of certain property” and includes “invidious spot zoning,” or in other words, complete disregard of the surrounding nature of the community. In actuality, the project itself will fill lots that have been vacant for two decades with 1-3 bedroom apartments and even play lot for community youth. Furthermore, the possible tax revenue generated from the project could reach up to $72,000 a year, when there was once none. Also, the units will be priced 50% below of the median area income.

In response, BRC addressed the major concerns specified in the lawsuit and is still continuing with the zoning process. The petition that they have put out also seeks to gain some Tax Increment Financing (TIF), which is all too rare for affordable housing in Chicago, for the project in the 35^th Ward.

Originally published in La Voz del Paseo Boricua, May 2010 and Gozamos.com

Latin America: Guardian of the 21st Century

2010-05-08T17:18:00.003-05:00

In a fiery speech at the advent of the new century, the controversial populist President of Venezuela, Hugo Chávez, proclaimed that the 21st century will be the century of Latin America. As a key representative of the “New Left” in Latin America, Chávez was symbolically foreshadowing the important role Latin America will play in reshaping the world.

If one is to understand the modern world, one only needs to look over 500 years ago, when feudal Europe shook of its medieval cloak and entered into a new stage of development. This was no accident. As Columbus landed onto the shores of the Caribbean, it was the subsequent brutal enslavement and genocide of the indigenous populations and the squandering of their natural resources that made thar new stage possible. Furthermore, it was the devastation of Africa and the mass deportation and bondage of its peoples to colonial Latin America that also propelled Europe onto the pathway of modernity. In the midst of all this, began the composition of new peoples, new identities, and new strategies of resistance. Most importantly, alternative societies (to the rigid colonial system imposed by Europe) were created, most notably the maroon societies.

Even though Latin America has partially shrugged off the overt colonial enslavement of Europe, the United States has entered the scene under the banner of divine intervention and destiny. From the occupation of Puerto Rico and México, to the multiple interventions in Panamá, Dominican Republic, and Haiti, the U.S. rose to a superpower on the strained backs of its “backyard,” explicit in the Monroe Doctrine of 1823.

Nonetheless, with multiple revolutions, such as the Cuban Revolution in 1959 and the Sandinista Rebellion in Nicaragua in 1979, Latin America has told the U.S. to get its hands off of the region. However, the 20th century was the self-proclaimed “American Century” and the noose from the North tightened, as the policies of neoliberalism became à la mode. Through deals with México, Chile, and Central America, poverty was exacerbated and forced millions into a diaspora to work in the Northern metropolis. Puerto Rico was its experiment station.

After the often failed urban and rural guerilla movements that spread across the region during the 1960s, 70’s, and 80s, many put down their guns and thought of a new way to build an equitable society: electoral politics. Thus began a wave of left-wing presidencies, from Hugo Chávez in Venezuela to Evo Morales in Bolivia, to the return of the Sandinistas in Nicaragua under Daniel Ortega. These leftist presidencies and governments continued the work to insert their nation’s marginalized who live in the barrios and favelas in a process of self-determination so they can build a bright collective future. The U.S. still looks on with great caution, meddling its dirty fingers once in a while.

From music to literature, art to language, those at the margins of colonial and post-independence Latin America have produced a different vision of the world. From reinventing education through the writings of Brazilian educator, Paulo Freire, to re-imagining the future city through the “metrobus” system in Colombia, Latin America looks back at the abuses of the past and sees the future as a challenge full of possibilities. When late last year the Brazilian city of Río de Janeiro was chosen as the host city of the 2016 Summer Olympic Games – the second in Latin America and the “Third World” and the first in South America – the words of Hugo Chávez never echoed so true.

Originally published in Que Ondee Sola magazine, April 2010

There is No Democracy in Puerto Rico

2010-05-08T17:11:00.008-05:00

The Farce of the Puerto Rico Democracy Act of 2009

On April 29, the United States House of Representatives approved the Puerto Rico Democracy Act of 2009 or Bill 2499, leading the push for a nonbinding referendum on Puerto Rico’s status with the U.S. Nothing is new and certainly, nothing is certain.

In 1998, the Young Bill passed through that branch of the U.S. legislature by one vote and stalled in the Senate. In response to the inaction of the U.S. government, under the pro-statehood regime of then-Governor Pedro Rosselló, an island-wide and nonbinding referendum was held. The option, “None of the Above” won. Twelve years later, another pro-statehood regime, now under auspices of Governor Luis Fortuño and his right-hand man, Resident Commissioner Pedro Pierluisi, who is the island’s only representative to the House, is pushing for another Congressional referendum. This time though, it passed the House by 273 votes, with 169 in opposition. Is this bill really providing democracy to Puerto Rico?

One problem: Puerto Rico has never, ever, in the entire 112-year history of the U.S. occupation of the island, has been allowed self-determination. Every organic act by the U.S. Congress has been without the full consultation of the Puerto Rico people.

The Foraker Act of 1900 removed the martial law inflicted on Puerto Ricans since 1898 and established a governor for the island – handpicked by the U.S. President, of course.

The Jones Act of 1917 imposed U.S. citizenship onto Puerto Ricans just in time to draft its men into World War I.

In the 1922, U.S Supreme Court case, Balzac v. Porto Rico (the U.S. changed “Puerto” to “Porto” to fit its linguistic needs after the 1898 invasion), the island legally was defined as “belong[ing] to, but…not a part of” the United States.” That legal standing of being an unincorporated territory has not changed, even with Public Law 600 signed by then-President Truman in 1951, allowing for the island to have a constitution. The only vote of that era was whether Boricuas wanted not to have a constitution or to have one. There was no option for a constitution as an independent or sovereign republic or any other status option for that matter.

By July 25, 1952 (the anniversary of the U.S. invasion) when Puerto Rico officially became the “Estado Libre Asociado” or “Freely Associated State,” and the Puerto Rican flag, which was illegal until then, became the official (and redesigned) symbol of this new “autonomous” territory, some believed that the island reached a new era. Though it was officially removed a year later from the list of colonial positions (at the request of the U.S government, not the Puerto Rican people) from the United Nation’s decolonization committee, the U.S. Congress still is the dominant force on the island. The Puerto Rican Constitution itself says that all Federal Laws supersede island laws. Thus, there is no “free association.” That is a bold face lie!

What is an even greater lie is the idea that Bill 2499 will provide democracy for Puerto Rico. The U.S. Congress has never granted a legally binding (meaning they are obligated to follow through) referendum for the Puerto Rican people to decide our future, despite having full constitutional authority on the island. Bill 2499 does not even provide a binding referendum for the island. It provides a two-step symbolic nonbinding vote. First, whether Puerto Ricans are content with the present status or not. If not, a second vote will be held with the options of Statehood, full Independence, Associated Republic (independence with some matters in the control of the U.S.), or, yet again, “Commonwealth.” To the lament of Fortuño, the “Commonwealth” option was tagged on last minute, which clearly contradicts the first vote, but is a clear message that the U.S. Congress is afraid that people will vote for statehood. Even the estadistas recognize that the U.S. is conducting a colonial enterprise on the island, benefiting through millions of dollars the Social Security benefits that Puerto Rican workers feed into the system, the billions of dollars spent on U.S. consumer products, and the multiple military installations.

Furthermore, what the pro-statehood movement is not telling the Boricua people is that the United States Congress, even if Puerto Ricans one day go insane and vote for statehood by an immense majority, does not have to grant it. It’s a nonbinding referendum! Moreover, even if the path to eventual statehood is made by the U.S. Congress, it could take nearly 100 years, as it did to states like Alaska and New México. Just like the 1922 Supreme Court case, Puerto Rico is like a T-shirt, to be taken off or buttoned up when convenient; it is just property that happens to have 4 million people. True democracy is allowing the Puerto Rican people to decide. Democracy is self-determination, not lies.

Originally published in La Voz del Paseo Boricua, May 2010 and Gozamos.com

To Study & To Struggle

2010-05-08T17:07:00.002-05:00

A Massive Student Strike Paralyzes the University of Puerto Rico

Some say that the University of Puerto Rico (UPR) was founded in 1903 in order to produce a local intelligentsia subservient to the demands of the United States, which only five years earlier ripped the island from Spain. In the 107 years since, the exact opposite has taken place.

In 1948, pro-independence students invited the president of the Puerto Rican Nationalist Party, Dr. Pedro Albizu Campos, as a guest speaker, who recently had been released after serving ten years in a U.S. prison. The then-chancellor of the UPR’s Río Piedras campus, Jaime Benítez, refused to allow Albizu Campos to enter, prompting student protests. In response, a group of student leaders who held Puerto Rican flags, which was illegal during the time, were expelled.

In 1970, a massive student struggle emerged in the midst of the Vietnam War, calling for the removal of the ROTC from the Río Piedras campus. During the conflict, a policeman killed a young student, Antonia Martínez Lagares, who subsequently became a symbol of the Puerto Rican student movement.

On April 21, 2010 a new student movement commenced in response to the austerity measures proposed by the UPR President, José Ramón de la Torre, and the Governor of Puerto Rico, Luis Fortuño, spawning an indefinite strike that is paralyzing the UPR system and brought international attention to the island.

Entering his second year in office, the right-wing and pro-statehood governor has proven to have little respect for Puerto Rico’s institutions. From firing nearly 20,000 government employees that provoked a massive one-day general strike to cutting the Institute of Puerto Rican Culture’s budget in half to getting rid of the membership requirement for lawyers to one of the island’s oldest institutions, the Puerto Rican Bar Association, Fortuño is reshaping the island, as many believe, in order to prepare it for statehood.

The UPR is no exception to Fortuño’s reign of terror. A new proposal, Certification 98, passed by the university’s Board of Trustees, eliminates fee exceptions for student athletes and university employees and their families. Furthermore, there is a proposed budget cut of up to $100 million. In response, a student-driven Negotiating Committee of 16 members were created and a list of demands were composed, which includes alternative measures to the massive budget cuts. These measures include the budget reduction of the burdensome Office of the President and a call for payment of multiple private and public entities that owe the university millions of dollars. The UPR president and the Río Piedras chancellor, Ana Guadalupe, refused to meet with the committee and washed their hands of the issue by transmitting their demands to the Board of Trustees, which are dragging their feet to review them.

Thus, on April 13 over 3,000 students from the Río Piedras campus assembled in an auditorium and the majority of those present voted in favor of a 48-hour strike. The UPR administration still refuses to meet with the students.

Now the UPR is experiencing an indefinite strike, which has expanded to include eight of the 11 campuses throughout the island.

Hundreds of students and staff even occupied, for a time, the Río Piedras campus until Riot Police, at the insistence of the Chancellor, forcefully removed them. Then she officially closed down the university’s operations, locked the main entrance, and ordered police to guard the campus. This prompted a student lawsuit and the Puerto Rican Supreme Court ordered the university to re-open its gates by May 3. Meanwhile, hundreds of students have congregated at the gates, holding theatrical performances, discussions, and even clean-ups and beautification projects of the surrounding area.

The response of support for the UPR strike has been major. The official Student Council of Río Piedras initially opposed the action but soon joined the Negotiating Committee. The Puerto Rican Association of University Professors and the Committee of Students of Private Universities have also joined the strike. Moreover, on April 27, a huge concert with thousands of students, called “¡Qué Vivan Los Estudiantes!” – “Long Live The Students!”, was held in front of the locked gates of the Río Piedras campus. Musical artists from the island and around the world, such as Calle 13, Ricky Martin, Rubén Blades, and Juanes, offered their support.

Nonetheless, the opposition has remained firm. Fortuño himself, a day before the concert, spoke directly to the strike in his yearly “State of the Commonwealth” address. In his incendiary speech, which received massive applause by the pro-statehood controlled Congress, he chastised the students for abusing their “privilege,” especially in the face of such a gracious government system. Reminiscent of a national speech by Mexican President Gustavo Díaz Ordaz when confronting massive student protests on the eve of the 1968 Olympics, Fortuño said that the people of Puerto Rico are of law and order and believe in democracy. At the conclusion of his address, he said “…we are here, ready and willing to offer the help… to protect the rights of all the students – both to the miniscule group that protest to the immense majority of those who want classes to continue.”

As mentioned earlier, there is a long trajectory of student struggle at the UPR, proving that one of the most important institutions in Puerto Rico is producing minds eager to reshape the challenge with a fair dialogue and open arms or continue a tradition that left the Plaza of Tlatelolco in México City stained with blood in the summer of ‘68.

Originally published in La Voz del Paseo Boricua, May 2010 and Gozamos.com

Is Latina/o a Race?

2010-05-08T17:03:00.002-05:00

“I’m going to put Black as my race,” says Andrew Torres, 16, a student of the Barrio, Arts, Culture, and Communications Academy after school program in Humboldt Park. “But, you look white and got red hair!” I exclaimed with a smile of interest. “Yeah, but don’t Puerto Ricans got Black in us?” he responded with a look of confusion. “Yes we do,” I said.

The U.S. Congress requires for the counting of every person in the United States every 10 years and the U.S. Census Bureau puts a lot of work in making this happen. After everyone is counted the results play a very large role in deciding on how much funding is allocated to schools, special projects, political representation, among other important things. In many ways, the relationship between the government (on all of its levels) and communities are determined by who and how many live in those areas. For Latinas/os, the census plays a unique role.

Now that “Hispanic” and “Latino” are official options in the census since 1970, they are still ethnic options, not race options. In other words, the U.S. government recognizes that there are Latinas/os in the U.S. (now more than 40 million of us and growing!) but we are not at the level of “white,” “Black,” or “American Indian” as a category.

First of all, the idea of race is different in Latin America. My student could easily pass for white, but his entire life is not that of a white person, but of a Puerto Rican growing up in Humboldt Park among people of color. He also recognizes that Puerto Ricans are a mixed people – Taíno Indian, European, and African. The U.S. Census Bureau’s neat categories do not fit the Puerto Rican or Latin American reality of a beautifully mixed people. That is why we are forced to choose, but is that choice really reflective of our history; of our experiences?

I consider myself a “Black” Puerto Rican – my African ancestry is more obvious in my skin-color and facial features more so than other Boricuas, but is my experience the same as an African-American? What about my uncle Junior? He is very light-skinned, but was called “spic” when he was in the South because they knew he was not white. Is he going to put “white” on the census?

It also must be noted that being Puerto Rican is different from being Mexican or Dominican or any other ethnic group from Latin America. The grouping of all these different nationalities into one category like “Latino” is limiting, but making them all separate races will not solve anything. “Latino” is empowering. There is much that makes us distinct, but there is so much that binds us. The great show of solidarity between the Puerto Rican and Mexican communities in the Immigration Movement proves that.

In the end, my people, put on the census that you are “Latino” and do it proudly. We all must be counted – only then could we tell this country that we are a people to be recognized and our issues must be taken into account, from immigration to gentrification. Also, make sure you put what Latina/o grouping you are from. In communities like Humboldt Park, which is experiencing displacement because of rising rents and property taxes we need to know how many Puerto Ricans are still here so we can continue to build what we have struggled so much to build. Those Paseo Boricua Flags are not going anywhere! “¡Boricua, Házte Contar!”

As for the “race” question, put what you like. I put “other/ mixed” because that is what I/we are. As a Mexican educator put it, we are la raza cósmica, the cosmic race.

Originally published in La Voz del Paseo Boricua, April 2010 and Gozamos.com

A Prison Behind a Glass Window

2010-05-08T16:33:00.011-05:00

A mock cell in Humboldt Park is bringing attention to the plight of the Puerto Rican Political Prisoners

Passing Western Avenue and entering through a humongous steel Puerto Rican flag, marking the entrance to Paseo Boricua and Humboldt Park, what one sees is totally dependent on who you are talking to.

Some see a ghetto. Others see a strong community, and there are those who listen to their iPods and stay clueless. What I guarantee most do not expect to find as they pass old men wearing well-pressed guayaberas is a window-front prison cell with volunteer prisoners.

In 2006, National Boricua Human Rights Network (NBHRN) thought of an idea to bring the issue of the Puerto Rican Political Prisoners to the forefront of the community’s and city’s consciousness. The organization, which focuses on issues of human rights in the Puerto Rican community in the U.S. and on the island, decided on a new type of performance art that would engage residents, activists, and of course the federal government. At that time one of the two political prisoners, Oscar López Rivera, was completing 25 years in jail. So NBHRN built a mock cell at the window-front of the Café Teatro Batey Urbano Youth Space, exactly 6 feet by 9 feet, with prison bars, a bed, and a toilet. For 25 days straight a volunteer stayed imprisoned for 24 hours with only books, paper, and pen to pass the time. The event even reached the pages of the Chicago Tribune.

“The response was overwhelming,” said NBHRN National Coordinator Michelle Morales, 34. “From the media [to the] community and it was positive! We decided to revisit it this year for the 30 years of incarceration of [political prisoner] Carlos Alberto Torres.” Now, four years later, as one walks down Division Street, white-shirt prisoners can be viewed again, imprisoned behind glass.

On one of my visits to the cell, I met a young woman sitting solemnly on the bed who was very much proud of her contribution. When first hearing about the prison cell project, Julia Montañez, 17, thought, “I wish I could do that. I want to be part of this movement to free the political prisoners.” When asked what her family thinks about her doing this, she said, “They support this and visited me. They support the movement also. We’re a very politically aware family.”

Although all this began in Chicago, it is spreading throughout the country. “I’ve been involved [in NBHRN] for 8 years and this is the first time I see the campaign in an upswing. We’ve developed new chapters in Detroit, New York City, and New England,” said Morales. New York City is also conducting a similar prison cell project in the El Barrio/East Harlem community.

On April 3 the last volunteer prisoner was released from the mock cell followed by a commemorative event at Batey Urbano. That date was chosen because it marks the 30th anniversary of the capture of Alberto Torres alongside 10 other political prisoners. After decades of activism and a swelling movement, all were released by presidential clemency in 1999, except Oscar López Rivera and Haydee Beltrán (who was released last year). April 3 is also the birthday of the last volunteer prisoner, who at one time was a real political prisoner in federal prison.

Ricardo Jiménez, 53, was 23 years old when he was captured by the police in Evanston, Illinois in 1980. “Based on international law, colonialism is a crime against humanity. We were part of a national liberation struggle for Puerto Rico,” said Jiménez in a strong tone. “The 11 who were captured in 1980 were sentenced with a peculiar crime called “seditious conspiracy to overthrow the U.S. government.” Though they were not charged with any particular violent crime, the group received sentences ranging from 55-105 years. Jiménez was sentenced to 98 years.

Now Jiménez spends his time ensuring that his two imprisoned compañeros get released just as he was. “We must bring them home,” he says with determination. He recently traveled through the East Coast with the NBHRN sponsored play, “Crime Against Humanity,” visiting the multiple NBHRN chapters, speaking at community centers and universities. The play, which offers firsthand accounts of the suffering the political prisoners experienced while in incarcerated, is co-authored by former political prisoner, Luis Rosa, who was also at the April 3 event.

When asked what she would say to Oscar López Rivera and Carlos Alberto Torres if they were released, Julia Montañez paused and thought carefully for a moment, and with a smile uttered, “I’d say, ‘We did it!’”

Originally published in La Voz del Paseo Boricua, March 2010 and Gozamos.com

Frida Kahlo Lives in Logan Square

2010-03-29T23:14:00.002-05:00

As I stepped over the crumbling ice on the cracked sidewalks of Logan Square and entered a nearly-hidden coach home, I was met by Frida Kahlo – literally at the door.

The old red entrance illuminated the presence of the renowned Mexican artist, painted in a proud and elegant pose, her famous indigenous dresses decorated in paper maché. And most intriguing of all was the quote that swum above her head: “Pies pa' que los quiero si tengo alas pa' volar” - “Why do I need feet when I have wings to fly.”

“Frida's body was failing her – her toes and foot were amputated. If I ever was in a situation like that... I'd feel useless... if I couldn't paint, I'd want wings too,” said Patricia Pérez, 30, explaining the reason why she was evoked to place Frida onto her door. At this moment, I realized that one can find Latin America thousands of miles away from its troubled borders – our art is alive where one finds a Latina/o determined to represent and redefine our identities.

Walking through her slick wooden floors and fresh hibiscus flowers I was dazzled by a painting full of blazing imagery, a self-portrait, her face gray and omnipotent above a Mayan temple, her arms portrayed as roots into the smooth, brown earth. “As a kid [painting] was my therapy... my salvation. I was a Puerto Rican and Guatemalan kid in Lakeview schools where the majority were white. I felt lost in my identity,” she said with a youthful smile.

It was at age nine when she first painted, portraying a freestyle music artist. Years past, she has kept her focus on portraits: “I create art, but its really the people who bring it to life, people inspire me.”

Two weeks into her job as an art instructor at Simons Park in the Humboldt Park community, she was told by a 13-year-old young woman that she was the “whitest” Puerto Rican she had ever met. Patricia's response was, “I know what you meant, but I want you to tell me. If I'm here to teach you, I need to learn from you.” The young woman explained that she had never met anyone who treated students with the same respect as adults. It was this uncommon teaching style that led her to realize that many of her students were trapped in a world of physical, sexual, and substance abuse. “I couldn't just tell them to paint,” says Patricia, acknowledging her deep sense of responsibility. It was this that inspired her to help create, along with four other women, an all-woman's mentorship group called “Las Caras Lindas” (The Beautiful Faces) four years ago at San Lucas Church in Humboldt Park.

“We have an inside-out structure... first we work with the individual – who is the individual in this life... The second aspect is the community – who are you in this community, what is your role.” Patricia and the other mentors have the young women produce art on the program's central themes and they also invite Latina/o and Black guest speakers (so the young women can identify with them) to conduct workshops whose topics range from domestic violence to safe sex. In addition, they organize cultural immersion trips around the country, meeting artists, poets, and writers. “[We want them] to understand their greater society and to be who and whatever they'd like to be.”

When asked on future plans, Patricia recalls a trip to Guatemala when she was 6-years-old, seeing children, her age, with oversized clothes and no shoes, begging for money. “I saw myself in these kids,” she says with a melancholic tone. That is why she is planning a trip next year to teach art to orphans in Tanzania and, in years to come, to do the same in Guatemala in a landfill that houses tens of thousands of people. “This is the work I need to do.”

Although the life of Frida Kahlo is now immersed in magical nostalgia, what made her life so marvelous was that she was deeply rooted in reality, supporting causes of the poor and the oppressed in México and Latin America. It is evident that Patricia is inheriting an important legacy. Frida Kahlo not only lives on her Logan Square door, but is alive and kicking in the artist that resurrected her.

Originally published in Gozamos.com

Puerto Rico Explodes, but for Fortuño “Such is Life.”

2009-11-02T19:55:00.011-06:00

“In solidarity with my neighbors, friends... and mostly because of the remorse I feel for voting for all these bastards that lied to us. ¡PA' LANTE CON EL PARO! (Ahead with the strike!)”

On October 15, while Puerto Ricans everywhere – from Chicago to Juncos, San Lorenzo to New York – were searching for information on the biggest national strike the island has ever seen (over 200,000 people), I read online this striking comment from my aunt in Puerto Rico. And trust me, if you know my aunt's politics, the comment is striking. She is a vehement penepé – a member of the pro-statehood party, Partido Nuevo Progresista, that currently holds a monopoly of power. However, in the midst of the chaos that once again entrenches the “island of enchantment” she publically renounces her allegiance to the party. She is not alone. From the time that Luis Fortuño Burset was elected last november, the faith that Boricuas once had for him has transformed into a frustration that is spilling into the streets. But why?

A pro-statehood, republican governor of Puerto Rico is what happened! A person whose election campaign announced that it would “reduce the size of the government without firing anyone.” But by the end of this year, nearly 20,000 will have been fired from their government jobs. A person who was elected mainly because his opponent, Aníbal Acevedo Vilá, was under an FBI investigation motivated by his condemnation of their assassination of pro-independence leader Filiberto Ojeda Ríos. Almost all charges were dropped after he lost to Fortuño.

Now Puerto Rico is re-approaching former Governor Rosselló's taste for societal decadence and intellectual retardation. The theme of Fortuño's administration can be summed up in a statement by Jaime González, former director of “Portal del Futuro,” a redevelopment project in the town of Ceiba. “We are going to create some stores that will have products that you [residents of Ceiba] can't buy, but 'such is life.' Not everyone is so graced.” He ended by saying that at least the residents have the option of walking a pathway by the sea and watching the wealthy descend from their cruise ships and do some expensive shopping. ¡Qué compasión!

“Such is life” is the attitude when this year Fortuño dismantled the land trust of one of the oldest and poorest communities in Santurce, Caño Martín Peña, thus creating a path for their destruction in order to build elite condominiums. “Such is life” is the idea when he banned some of the finest Puerto Rican works of literature from schools. Any society that begins to censor books, especially under the mantle of "protecting young minds" must prepare itself for the advent of a long, treacherous nightmare.

“Such is life” when he announced that he must fire 17,000 government employees. Included in the firings is 53% of the staff of the Institute of Puerto Rican Culture – an institution created to preserve and protect one of the most valuable possessions of our island: our culture. For someone who leads a party that eagerly advocates the “americanization” of the island to prepare it for statehood, this makes perfect sense. That is also why his administration stood by while locally-produced shows and talent on WAPA TV – the most popular Puerto Rican television channel - were cancelled and their staff fired.

“Such is life” when his administration defended the excessive use of force when the state police beat bloody university students in Río Piedras who refused to obey his new law on the sale of alcohol. And God forbid if you speak up! When music star René Pérez of Calle 13 called the governor a “son of a b****” on MTV 3 he was called, puzzling, by Fortuño's Secretary of Interior a “socialista de discoteca” (club socialist) and his concert in San Juan was completely cancelled by the penepé mayor. Although René's statement was not the most eloquent, it is part of the massive frustration that spilled into the streets of San Juan a day later by union members, students, mothers, fathers – everyday people who feel that Puerto Rico is headed towards a dangerous path. However, it must be noted that René began his statement with what I believe should be on the minds of all those who are dissatisfied with Fortuño's policies: “One must be free and Latin America is incomplete without Puerto Rico free.”

Last week some of the tanks of the Caribbean Petroleum Company in Bayamón exploded during the night, burning a fire that lasted for two days, displaced thousands of people, and shot up black toxic smoke thousands of feet into the air. It is almost as if an atomic bomb exploded in the middle of the San Juan Metropolitan area. And in some ways it did. It was the climax of a year-long nightmare. With its loud explosions that shattered windows and ripped off roofs, the event at the oil plant was figuratively telling Puerto Rico to wake up. And not just wake up and throw-out Fortuño and his cronies in four years, but to find a real solution, one that René Pérez understands well.

Originally published in La Voz del Paseo Boricua, November 2010 and Que Ondee Sola magazine.

Fortuño's Administration is Now Banning Books...

2009-09-16T17:40:00.007-05:00

It's official, Fortuño's administration in Puerto Rico is approaching Rosselló-type decadence and intellectual retardation.

Not only is he an avid statehooder and right-wing member of the U.S. Republican Party (a friend of mine once described him as someone who just happens to have a Spanish suriname, to his own lament, of course), has thrown thousands of people onto the streets and into the unemployment lines, is promoting a military-style police force (to beat-up university students, of course), he now promotes the banning of books! (For more information, click here, here, and here)

In a theater review, I described "la isla del encanto" as "a land in the clouds, bordering the unreal and the fantastic - that to fathom it is to envision a dream dancing with a nightmare." With this most recent occurrence by the Fortuño administration to hinder the political, social, and intellectual development of the island, I believe my description is evermore accurate and relevant.

Any society that begins to censor books, especially under the mantle of "protecting young minds" must prepare itself for the advent of a long, treacherous nightmare.

Books, especially from our Boricua masters Edgardo Rodríguez Juliá and José Luis González, enable humanity to produce a critical eye onto our contemporary and historic realities - to understand the complexities of being human and the urgent issues that affect us. And, hopefully, to find solutions to those problems. "El entierro de Cortijo," by Rodríguez Juliá, for example, is one of my favorite books and actively seeks to portray the sometimes painful intersection between class, race, popular culture, political corruption, and sexism in the colonial urban Puerto Rican context. Just because there is one sex scene (between a Senator and a poor mulata, at that!) in this, one of the most popular pieces of Boricua literature, is, I believe, not the real motive of Fortuño's regime. It is because it deals with all the aforementioned issues.

Censorship has no place in Puerto Rico, Señor Fortuño!

A Chicago Puerto Rican in Nueva York

2009-08-28T12:59:00.006-05:00

“Sí no me lo cuento, me muero” – “If I don’t tell the tale, I’ll die” - says the aging black boricua actor in an iconic Puerto Rican accent in a tone that borders laughter and sadness. It is a line that stays stuck in the mind of a compañero, Justino Rodríguez, who I accompanied to the theatrical production.

The play, “Cuento que me cuentan” by Pregones Theater of the South Bronx told the story of a group of poor and desperate, but strikingly hopeful and resilient farmers at turn of the 20th century Puerto Rico as they are recruited to work for a sugarcane company in Hawaii. They are cramped with thousands of their compatriotas in a small ship with very little food or sympathy, watching their friends and families escape in route until they rebel and take over the ship from its gringo crew. While for many in the audience this obra teatral invoked a submerged history, for me, in the context of my recent trip to New York City, it did so much more. It set the stage, so to speak, for the idea that the history of Puerto Ricans of the Diaspora (in the United States) cannot reside in the unspoken past, but must live forever in the hearts and minds of our communities and inform our future. If not, we will surely collectively die.

When the major writings of Jesús Colón, a Puerto Rican migrant to La Gran Manzana in the early decades of the 20th century, were compiled in a book called “A Puerto Rican in New York,” a nascent community of struggling tobacco workers came alive for the first time to many Boricuas living in the city in the 1960s. This written history echoed in a conversation I had with Lucila Rodríguez, who allowed me to stay at her home during my trip. While overlooking the neighborhood in Queens of my adolescence across the East River from a park in Manhattan, she recollected the story of her aunt who came to the city in a cargo ship in 1926. With a big smile that betrayed a sparkle in her eyes, she sounded out in a deliberate boricua accent the ship’s name – “the Marine Tiger,” following it with laughter. Lucila, herself, was born in one of the Diaspora’s oldest communities – El Barrio/ East Harlem - only a few blocks away from where our island’s national poet, Julia de Burgos, died in the 1950s. This location is now adorned with a mosaic while across the street there is a cultural center named after her. History is indeed, all around us.

While taking the Bronx bus #2 down the Grand Concourse, from Fordham Road, only a few blocks from where my parents met in the 1980s, I could not help but think of Paseo Boricua as I saw Puerto Rican flags flying from window after window. Nonetheless, Puerto Rican New York is in a sad state of affairs, as Justino laments. Its institutions are moving more into the “mainstream” and shaking off thier Puerto Rican-focuses. The Puerto Rican Day Parade, the largest in the country, is becoming more of a showcase of the latest brands and corporations instead of our cultural traditions and nuances. The Puerto Rican university organizations are disappearing and losing their connection to the community. And, of course, the Puerto Rican community itself is being displaced, as expensive high-rises are eclipsing the brownstones that Boricuas resided in for decades. This is not just in New York, but in every place Puerto Ricans have struggled to create community, from New Haven to San Francisco. There are still groups of dedicated and brilliant Boricuas in these cities willing to develop their communities, but for the most part the Diaspora, its institutions, and with it, our history are eroding.

The slogan of this newspaper is “Advocating for the Preservation of our ‘pedacito de patria’ – our piece of motherland, a piece of Puerto Rico away from home. When those poor farmers from Puerto Rico were persuaded, under false pretenses, to slave in Hawaii, they turned around and created a lasting community that, after over a hundred years, still exists and claims its puertorriqueñidad. The same is detailed in the New York chronicles of Jesús Colón. But it is slowly dying. Walking down Paseo Boricua, the Puerto Ricans of Chicago have created a community like no other, from age-old institutions like the Puerto Rican Cultural Center to new ones like the Institute for Puerto Rican Arts & Culture and with so many young people leading the way. And of course nowhere can you find two 59-foot Puerto Rican Flags and so many Puerto Rican-owned businesses in one street. Some might see this as a ghetto in comparison to neighborhoods of the rich and privileged, but we must see it as a shinning star of communities that have struggled and that continue to struggle. But as we enter intense and trying times, as our rents and property taxes go higher and pessimism takes hold on some of our people, one thing must remain certain: that a Puerto Rican community must exist on Paseo Boricua and Humboldt Park, and can only do so with the support of our people and our leaders. Hopefully, in decades to come, when someone asks what is the story of Paseo Boricua, we will not just be a story to be told but a history that is still living.

Originally published in the "Fíjate" column of the August 2009 edition of La Voz del Paseo Boricua newspaper

Love in the Time of Migration

2009-08-28T12:46:00.006-05:00

Some say that Puerto Rico is a land in the clouds, bordering the unreal and the fantastic - that to fathom it is to envision a dream dancing with a nightmare.

It is thus a daunting task, especially for artists, to capture and creatively express this island of contradictions. The Puerto Rican playwright José Rivera, who with his recent play Boleros for the Disenchanted, has come as close as anyone to portraying the surreal Puerto Rican experience in the 20^th century. The theatrical piece, which had a run at the Goodman Theatre from June 20-July 26 detailed, through a love affair between Flora and Eusebio, the trials and tribulations of being on an island “on the move” in the 1950s.

The first act we are introduced to Flora, who like many jíbaras of her day, her entire world is only a small barrio in her town – Miraflores. The expectations for her are simple: get married, have a family, and stay true to God's word. And this she does, marrying a national guardsman, Eusebio, whom she met in Santurce. However, the political and economic forces that guide the island (which are subtly mentioned in the play) shakes-up the narrative of what Flora life was suppose to be. Everyday, thousands of the island's young are migrating to the United States since the island's resources and land have been toyed with by the very country they are escaping to, as lamented in angry bursts by Flora's father, Don Fermín. “Good people flee the material poverty on the island only to find the spiritual poverty up North is worse than anything they ever imagined,” he says in a strong but uncertain tone.

The second act takes place in rural Alabama, 1992. We find the couple living alienated in moderate poverty, their children scattered around the world. Eusebio is bedridden without legs due to his diabetes, but Flora is as devout to him as she is to God, even after learning of his infidelities. The irony is that her cousin Petra was the one who wanted to migrate to the U.S. when they were young, but a letter to Flora reveals a happy old woman surrounded by her grandchildren. Flora finally knew what her father meant when she tells her only friend, with a tone of sadness, of her brother who left to the U.S.“I never heard from my brother again. We only heard stories of a handsome man in the Bronx, playing his guitar, with a smile on his face.” Flora probably wishes she could be her brother of these stories, even if they are not true. Migration changed Flora and Eusebio forever, but at the end, even in sickness, they remain together every moment of their day, because the only piece of Puerto Rico they have is each other.

Originally published in the August 2009 edition of La Voz del Paseo Boricua newspaper

Does Pro-Boricua Community = Anti-White?

2009-07-31T17:07:00.002-05:00

I am a leader in an anti-gentrification campaign in the community that I live in and we're constantly being labeled by (the mostly and small) reactionary elements in our community as "racist" or anti-white. This is echoed in such social networking forums like the Logan Square yahoo group. Here is my response:

The ¡Humboldt Park NO SE VENDE! campaign has never explicitly said "No white people in Humboldt Park"

This is an assumption that some people create (some maliciously, while other do it out of ignorance) that subconsciously reveal their own fears/ notions of what is involved in the process of gentrification. In other words, when people see an anti-gentrification campaign picking up speed they automatically assume its about white hate... why? Well because it is obvious that most of the "new residents" a.k.a. yuppies are white. You don't have to publish an article or host an event or do anything for someone to understand that obvious dynamic. Yes there has been graffiti, signs, and even things people have said in this community that are speak to that antagonism, but as a vision and in our work we have never publically said or done anything along those lines. We are about preserving the Puerto Rican community on Paseo Boricua and in Humboldt Park. We are pro-Boricua community as opposed to anti-white. However, most reactionary folks would automatically define that as racist anyway.

Nonetheless, in order to understand gentrification you must understand the history of racism and inequality and white-skin privilege in this country, which is where some people get uncomfortable.

The Happy Little Rainbow of Gentrification

2009-07-20T00:01:00.005-05:00

"To say that it is a pr community that welcomes all is also incorrect. It is an all community that welcomes all. We should not be fighting to keep "white people" out, we should be fighting to keep minorities in. Bringing awareness and business to the minority owned businesses and events being thrown in the park. If we say we are fighting to kick people out then we would be the same as them. Unity Unity Unity" says a Facebook commenter to an upcoming anti-gentrification event (look above).

My response: No one is denying that there are other latinas/os and people of color living in Humboldt Park. Nonetheless, this community is the cultural, economic, and political heart of the Puerto Rican people in Chicago. One way to combat gentrification is to stake a claim to an area - one that is rooted in the historical memory of its longtime residents. Therefore, with the strategy of Paseo Boricua (Division St.) this community is able to claim space in a myriad of way, whether it is with those two large flags or the murals on the walls. This a community that welcomes all, but also recognizes its historical and contemporary identity. I have met time and time again non-Puerto Rican residents of Humboldt Park who enjoy and participate what this community has done despite its Puerto Rican focus. This is also why we stand in solidarity with other communities of color facing gentrification, such as Pilsen and Bronzeville, the cultural hearts of the Mexican and Black communities, respectively.

Unity is also important that is why Elvira Arellano and Flor Crisóstomo - two undocumented Mexican mothers - stood in sanctuary in Adalberto Methodist Church right here on Paseo Boricua with the full support and protection of the Puerto Rican Cultural Center across the street. We accepted them wholeheartedly because we stand in SOLIDARITY with our Latina/o fellow sisters and brothers. They did not stay in 26th Street or in Pilsen but right here, in what they understood (and everyone in this city) understands to be the heart of the Puerto Rican community. Elvira said many times that she was proud to be on Paseo Boricua and thanked all the support she received from the Puerto Rican community. There is a difference between solidarity and respecting spaces than a multicultural farce where "we are all one." A huge difference.

There are blacks and Mexicans and other groups in Humboldt Park just as there are Puerto Ricans in Little Village and Cicero, but that is not the same as building entire monuments, institutions, festivities, social and political networks...etc in those particular places that represent a particular group. That is why there is not a Puerto Rican-focused effort to rally around gentrification in Logan Square (where there are plenty of Boricuas). It is in Humboldt Park because it is our historic center and fighting gentrification is just more than saying we need housing for all, but that there are things here worth defending.

Yuppies Strike Back

2009-07-13T16:21:00.009-05:00

Some more bochinche for you, my beautiful people:

“But also he fails to see that the people within the community are doing it to themselves. Putting the flags up was the action of ghettoization to themselves. My point is my friends is that before publishing a article there needs to be two things to happen here. One please proof read your articles. And second please have a point or take English 101," says a reader (I will call him “angry joe”) of my May 2009 Fíjate article.

“¡Ay míjo, qué revolú!” my grandmother would say if she only know what new drama her grandson got himself into. Well, as you all know, soy sin pelo en la lengua, papá. For new readers, let me explain what I mean by all this and why “angry joe” is so hysterical.

Well, in my last column I highlighted the urgent threat that the Puerto Rican community is facing with its displacement from Humboldt Park, represented in the form of a divisive e-mail by a new yuppie resident. In this e-mail, the resident was trying to persuade a community business owner from mingling with the ¡Humboldt Park NO SE VENDE! campaign, which is a grassroots organization seeking to preserve Paseo Boricua.

As Boricuas in Chicago, we have seen this time and time again: when our communities are “redeveloped” and “repackaged” we are then treated as unwelcome pests. Like the story of a conguero friend of mine who raised his children in Bucktown only to have his oldest son one day be harassed in front of their home because a yuppie could not believe that a Puerto Rican family could live on “his” block, the arrogance of such an e-mail is evident to anyone who can feel human emotions. So, of course, I published a piece of it with a response. ¿Ay bendito, porqué tú hiciste eso,?” my grandmother would say. Well, for long as we have a Puerto Rican community, we must seek to provide an open and democratic forum from which we must discuss pressing and relevant issues. The preservation of Paseo Boricua and its discontents is the issue.

But anyway, what a backlash I got from that! From close friends and associates jokingly saying “don't e-mail Xavi anything, he'll publish it in Fíjate!” to less funny and cute phone calls, e-mails, and even visits to the Puerto Rican Cultural Center, some people, one way or another, was bothered/amused by my column.

All joking aside, I write all this not for ego, but to again highlight the issue: if we do not talk and do something about the displacement of the Puerto Rican community in Humboldt Park, then the forum to discuss, engage, envision, and build will no longer exist.

As for “angry Joe's” e-mail, it does pinpoint an important and dangerous trend in thought by many new yuppie residents (not all are “angry new residents” - some are actually decent people who respect and understand the efforts of longtime residents to build this community and therefore seek to participate in it, not sabotage or bogart it): that Puerto Ricans have no right to claim this area as ours.

Well, if one looks up the origins of ghettos, then one will see that they were areas in European cities where Jews were forced to live because they were beyond the “Kingdom of Christ.” This forced segregation did not deter this group to produce communities full of culture, history, and commerce. Humboldt Park was left to us Boricuas as a poor, worn-out slum by its Eastern European residents who left to the suburbs. Although, it is not perfect, walk down Division Street today and compare it to the street that my mother walked on decades ago, there is a huge, positive difference (businesses, festivals, buildings that look like Viejo San Juan...etc) and with its Puerto Rican identity intact (beginning with those two, 59-feet Puerto Rican Flags). But with “angry Joes” walking around, how long will it last?

Originally published in the "Fíjate" column of the June edition of La Voz del Paseo Boricua newspaper

Change The Flag or Change The Status? Ay, Puerto Rico!

2009-07-13T14:43:00.012-05:00

Is it just El Nuevo Dia's reporting or do legislators in Puerto Rico like to use their positions to impose ambiguous and quite frankly, silly laws and regulations on their constituents (and the entire island)? Today in an article in the island's most widely circulated newspaper titled "Representante defiende proyecto para cambiar color a la bandera", reports that a Representative from Ponce is trying to officially change the colors of the Puerto Rican flag (gasps!). The legislator, Luis “Tato” León Rodríguez, (with a seemingly "Ponce es Ponce y lo demás es parking" attitude) says it is in order to "save and protect the integrity of this national symbol" (one that was interestingly created by Puerto Rican exiles in New York in 1895). What color is he trying to change it to? Well, the blue of the triangle - from its official dark blue to its historic light blue (more gasps!).

Now, anyone who knows me would think that I am now going crazy - am I not an independentista who knows and believes that the light blue is the original and revolutionary blue? Is this not what I want the flag too look like when the island is finally free and sovereign? Well, yes and yes! And for all those reasons it just boggles my mind why anyone in a position of (somewhat) power would advocate for the changing of a "national symbol" into its more revolutionary roots but also say in the same breath that this is not about the status issue (yeah, ok) but about filling a "legal gap."

Boricuas, as special as we are (¿Tú no sabías que Diós es puertorriqueño?), we cannot have our cake and eat it too. A legislator cannot legislate nationalism while simultaneously shying away from the idea of a sovereign nation. And you know what is the most ironic thing about all of this? That this man is a member of the pro-statehood party! Ave María, what next, the PNP is going to start advocating for a trade agreement with Cuba?

Anyway, this idea was shot down by Luis Fracaso... I mean Fortuño, who said in a press conference (in none other than in my town of Juncos!) that this never has been an issue of discussion and will not be in the future. ¡Fuácata!

Those Who Opposed Pastor De Jesús Just Didn't Get It!

2009-07-10T16:51:00.015-05:00

For the past few weeks now there has been quite a few news coverage (especially with a firestorm from the "blogging community") on the possible new Alderman of the 26th Ward, Rev. Wilfredo "Choco" De Jesús of New Life Covenant Church. Sadly, much of this coverage has been negative.

When I first discovered that longtime Alderman Billy Ocasio was resigning in order to join the Governor's cabinet and that he chose Pastor Choco as his replacement, I thought "this could not be a better choice!" May I ask, which Puerto Rican led institution in Humboldt Park has hundreds of members who are able to promote and organize such a electoral campaign? Next to none! Which community has been able to engage a church and a pastor in important social issues, from community preservation (look at all the real estate New Life has saved from greedy developers!) to immigration reform (by a Puerto Rican church, nonetheless!). In the last few elections in the 26th Ward, which is facing the displacement of its longtime residents (gentrification), we have been bombarded with puppet candidates who wanted to only serve the interests of greedy real estate developers and other anti-Paseo Boricua forces. Of course, some people remained myopic.

A few weeks ago, I was one of 20 of the mostly Puerto Rican representatives of different community organizations that work on LGBTQ issues who attended a meeting at La Bruquena restaurant a few weeks ago with Pastor De Jesús. The meeting was allegedly called in order to better understand the Pastor's views on LGBTQ issues. The biggest surprise though was that the vast majority of those who attended did not live in the 26th Ward! Actually many those in attendance represented organizations that did not completely focus on the Humboldt Park community or the 26th Ward. Interestingly enough, it was from those who did not live here that questions about important community issues like gentrification, the development of Paseo Boricua, violence, and education ...etc were absent. The only thing on their minds was this: "You are an evangelical pastor, therefore you hate gay people and you hate us, don't you!?" Up to that point I have never seen a group of people so concerned by just one issue - which is not surprising if you do not live or work in this ward.

Nonetheless, it was from those activists who live and work in this community, who organize LGBTQ events (which most of De Jesús' discontents do not attend), and fight homophobia and transphobia on a daily basis in the schools, programs, and institutions of Humboldt Park, that a real dialogue took place. In my experience, Humboldt Park and Paseo Boricua has become such a welcoming space for LGBTQ Boricuas and Latinas/os and that just did not happen because of the "Boystown elite" opened people's eyes. Look at Vida/SIDA as a community institution - where else do you see so many openly lesbian, gay, and transgendered people freely doing outreach to all the members of this community? Where else would there be a transgendered Queen for a major parade other than the Puerto Rican Cultural Center's Desfile del Pueblo/ Puerto Rican People's Parade every June? People have struggled and died to make LGBTQ Boricuas and Latinas/os feel welcomed in their OWN community so we would not have to suffer in the racist, sexist, and elitist so-called "Boystown."

To all of De Jesús' discontents, there are a few things to take into consideration. Which evangelical pastor who would meet with a group of LGBTQ leaders? Which evangelical pastor in Chicago would explain herself/himself on hers/his beliefs to such a group? Which evangelical pastor would support the construction of a gay homeless shelter in Humboldt Park? He may believe things that I disagree with, but in the end, there is room for common ground, common understanding and respect, and for struggle and engagement. That is what participatory democracy is about.

Another point to consider is that, for those who live and work in the 26th Ward would know that a great and visionary Alderman like Billy Ocasio would never choose a replacement who would not work for and support the diverse experiences of his residents and the major initiatives of this community. Sadly, some have eaten the apple and have abandoned his legacy and vision.

Furthermore, without a community there will be no struggle to engage people (leaders or residents) in anything. As the Puerto Rican (and Latina/o) community continues to suffer gentrification then the forum in which to dialogue about important issues such as these becomes less and less available. It just becomes talking heads speaking to an imaginary community. If the Puerto Rican community is desecrated then where will all the LGBTQ Boricuas be? Boystown! Ha! Puerto Ricans were gentrified from Lakeview decades ago. For those who claim to be "Latina/o leaders" take this into consideration: Being a "Latina/o leader" means nothing if you do not have a community to lead. The next Alderman (or Alderwoman) of the 26th Ward will have to understand that in order to truly lead our community into a brighter future. ¡Fuácata!

Trip to Bronzeville: The Harlem of the Midwest

2009-07-05T21:23:00.010-05:00

Oh the agony of writing on this again. I know that I need to develop a consistent discipline in writing and reading, especially before I start school again. Summers/vacations have a way of isolating people from their responsibilities and longtime goals. Its like "live for the moment before it gets cold again! (especially for those who live in the Midwestern U.S.) So, what better way than to write on a blog - the ultimate modern-day vehicle of self-indulgence.

Anyway, speaking of diddle-dalling, I went to Bronzeville today with my partner and one of my closest friends. Say what you will, but the historical ethnic segregation of Chicago has provided much revenue and fame to the city - all you need is to look at the nickname of this garden metrópolis - the "city of neighborhoods." Of course, red lining and institutional racism is nothing to celebrate, but ethnic segregation has given (and still gives) an opportunity for immigrant groups, especially oppressed immigrant groups (even in the 2nd and 3rd generations) an opportunity to produce spaces of political and cultural resistance to assimilation and to produce an economy on their own terms in the hands of their own compatriotas. Por supuesto, this does not happen everywhere in this city. Bronzeville is an interesting case study, though.

As we went to Chicago's House of Chicken and Waffles (which ironically served great tasting black soul food with white and Indian waiters and Mexican cooks - you see a lot when you're waiting 35 minutes to get seated!) we walked through gargantuan empty lots and storefronts, housing complexes isolated by green lawns separating pedestrians with prison-like black gates, and old stone architectural treasures being engulfed by eager yuppies who work downtown.

Though, I couldn't help but happily think of the community's golden age when I saw all the black families strolling through its green boulevards, when it was dubbed the "Black Metropolis" (forever memorialized in a 1940s book of the same name). Although, its former infamous alderwoman tried to revitalize the community's black character by promoting a Jazz District, since thousands of its residents have left when red lining became illegal and moved into communities of either greater poverty and marginalization or insular wealth, it still has a long way to go. Hopefully its community residents/leaders and institutions are able to pay justice to its historic hayday while providing a new vision of a black community in the 21st century (that does not have to look the same as the Chicago Housing Authority's ridiculous and racist "mixed-housing" plan that it has already imposed on empty lots and bulldozed housing projects). Awww, a global city-wannabe waiting for the International Olympic Committee's 2016 OK sticker, full of contradictions and fading historical memory.

Bikes, Yuppies, and Internet bochinche

2009-07-01T22:48:00.013-05:00

“I am going to have a VERY hard time being at the Ciclo Urbano event if the No Se Vende people are talking about wanting white people to get the hell out in front of my children and waving Puerto Rican flags in our faces, ” wrote a new resident of Humboldt Park in an e-mail to the head of West Town Bikes on April 23.

Thus began a comedic fiasco well deserving of the title given to this commentary. But here is some background information first.

Humboldt Park (Chicago), in the last few years, is a community where homes, full of memories, are bulldozed and gutted, where families are pushed away by ridiculous increases in rent and harassment by greedy developers and city inspectors, and age-old murals are covered-up.

It is in this current reality that West Town Bikes, which is a mostly white-owned and frequented bike shop in Humboldt Park, decided to open-up a shop on Paseo Boricua. And with surprise of some, all this took place with the strong support of the Puerto Rican Cultural Center (PRCC). Why, you must be thinking, would an organization like the PRCC, which has been a leader in promoting and maintaing a Boricua cultural and business corridor along Division Street, facilitate this business' arrival here? Isn't biking like a poor yuppie's form of Starbucks coffee?

Well, one of the answers is because Puerto Ricans bike too! Puerto Ricans in Humboldt Park also have huge health disparities, which has pushed-up the rates of diabetes, obesity, and cancer. The PRCC also has programs like CO-OP Humboldt Park and Muévete, which work on the issues of health, including promoting physical activity. And most importantly, it is because being pro-Puerto Rican does not mean being anti-white or anti-new resident.

Those Paseo Boricua flags are gates of welcoming and gates of dialogue. West Town bikes respected what the Puerto Rican community has worked so hard to create on Division Street and decided to join the dialogue with its new shop, Ciclo Urbano. They also planned to celebrate this new relationship by organizing a large procession from their old location with the PRCC's Humboldt Park NO SE VENDE! Campaign (HPNSV). However, not all new residents, including the one who sent the e-mail, is as respectful or understanding of all this.

The e-mail's author (who I will call “angry neighbor,” since her personal identity is insignificant, but her actions is representative of a greater problem) also complained that HPNSV practiced “reverse racism” and had a “nationalist platform.” The angry neighbor made it a point to proudly claim that she was white, despite the fact she is “half hispanic” (her words), as a way to connect with the head of West Town Bikes. To sum it up, the e-mail's tone was along the lines of “we need to do something about these Puerto Ricans.” West Town Bikes did not buy it and we all enjoyed a procession on May 1 that included over 200 people.

Sadly, divisive tactics like those of angry neighbor is something that will only further destroy all the work that people have put into developing Paseo Boricua. There is an ever present sense of “yuppie isolationism,” where many angry new residents, longing for another Bucktown, seek to replace Paseo Boricua with their own visions of community instead of working with the community.

In the “city of neighborhoods” - a slogan that emerges from a horrendous history of racism and urban segregation – one can explore the world in only a few miles and a few minutes. In this global city one can find Pilsen, where México lurks in old Czech architecture and Bronzeville, the historic center of the “Black Metropolis.” One could also hear the loud sounds of Café Colao coffee brewing behind its counter, snapping its customers back home.

Once I gave a tour of this community to a group of young basketball players from Puerto Rico, who never stepped foot outside the island. While I explained the meaning of some murals and pointed to the iron emblems detailing symbols of Boricua culture on the light poles, I overheard whispers of excitement: “Wow, I feel like I'm in Puerto Rico, I feel like I'm home.”

The communities that I mentioned suffers from stains of ghettoization, places where people of color were forced to occupy, but are beginning to experience cultural and economic rebirth - development from the vision of its longtime residents. Sadly, Chicago, like most U.S. cities, is on a path of Disneyland cookie-cutter dreams– a metropolis of Lincoln and Wicker Parks for miles and miles. Like Pilsen and Bronzeville, Paseo Boricua and all of Humboldt Park, is in the path of the slow-moving bulldozer called gentrification. Our destruction will only please people like the angry neighbor and that is why we cannot let it happen anymore.

Originally published the column "Fíjate" in the May edition of La Voz del Paseo Boricua newspaper

A Puerto Rican Funeral for a Nuyorican Artist

2008-03-17T16:52:00.007-05:00

My favorite artist, and probably one of the most influential artist (outside Francisco Oller) in the entire Puerto Rican Archipelago, Rafael Tufiño, is dead, at 86. The governor of the island ordered all government institutions to fly their flags at half staff and Tufiño's body lays in state in the National Gallery of the Institute of Puerto Rican Culture (where his most famous work, Goyita, is posterized on its pastel, Viejo San Juan building). He will also be buried in the famed María Magdalena de Pazzis cemetary in Viejo San Juan alongside poets and nationalist leaders. The Puerto Rican people (Diaspora and island) has truly lost " A People's Artist" who depicted rural and urban Puerto Rican life with all its music, death, violence, and poverty. Ironically, he was was born in Brooklyn, New York (he moved to PR when he was 10), where he later returned to found Taller Boricua and El Museo de Barrio - two important Nuyorican artistic institutions. One of his sons even told the island newspaper, El Nuevo Día, that his nationalist art was created through his "distinct perspective" as being a Puerto Rican not born on the island, but finding the island later in his life. No one can claim that Puerto Ricans born outside the island are not truly Puerto Rican - New York claims the origin of our flag, the music of salsa, and one of our greatest artists. Even Chicago claims the largest Puerto Rican flag in the world.

Search for Equilibrium: May '07 to March '08

2007-05-17T02:14:00.008-05:00

Oh and to answer a few questions: Why Before Infinity? What's that picture on your blog title? What's that picture at the bottom of your page? Why that poem? Why is your url "Xavier's Revenge?" My, my, one at a time. The last line of one of my favorite poems, The Final Act by José de Diego is "before infinity." The poem ends with possibly de Diego's death under a colonized Puerto Rico, where his coffin is draped by the island's flag. Once the island becomes free, he escapes from the coffin and uses the flag as a shroud, "hoisted high...before infinity," which can be interpreted as the glorious experience of freedom that can never be robbed from one's collective memory, even in death. Or that not even death can cease the thirst for freedom.

The main picture is a photograph by Jamel Shabazz, a black New York City photographer, famous for capturing the nascent Hip-Hop scene in the 1980's - a dangerous and creative environment that I was born into. The bottom picture is a piece of a mural by my favorite artist Rafael Tufiño called "La plena." This piece is depicting the famous song called "Le Cortaron a Elena" - "They cut Elena," which can be interpreted as the struggles of life, poverty, and the wonderful rhythms that death may bring, which is also echoed in the sarcastic and political poem by Miguel Piñero.

As for "Xavier's Revenge," that lies at the hands of the resurrection of one of the greatest pleneros Rafael Cortijo by the eloquent and breathe-taking essay by Juan Flores called "Cortijo's Revenge." Rafael Cortijo, being a black Puerto Rican was venerated in life as a great musician but in death he was the center of controversy over the suggestion that his name should grace the title of the Capital's bourgeoisie performance hall of "culture" - Centro de Bellas Artes, which ironically stands where his house once stood. Long story short, after much racist and classist mud-slinging, the hall would be named after Luis A. Ferré (who was rich, half-Cuban, right-wing, white, and a former pro-statehood Governor). Nonetheless, it was Cortijo's revenge that a poor, black plenero (which is a Puerto Rican form of cultural production unlike ballet and symphony orchestras that resonates through the performance hall) from the ghettos of Santurce would spark national debate on race, class, culture, and identity. I am a poor, black Puerto Rican from the ghettos of New York and Chicago, but if you comment on my blog, then you have read what I had to write. Who would of thought that a marginalized human being as myself could capture your attention? Xavier's Revenge!