On the 4th of July, "Borinquen Querida"

Soon after I wrote my last blog entry, I knew what subject I wanted to tackle next. Little did I know that it would take me two months to sit down to write about it:  being a Latino in America. Having watched a portion of Soledad O’Brien’s four part series on CNN, I knew that I somehow wanted to tell my own story, then something unexpected happened. As I tried to put my thoughts together into a coherent order, I realized that I did not know for sure who I really was anymore. I suspect that many individuals, who, like me, have left their homeland to pursue a better future for themselves in a foreign land, feel the same way I do.

I was born in a US territory, but in a country very much attached to its Spanish roots, customs, religion and traditions. These traditions are derived from the Puerto Rican creoles, Spaniards, African slaves and Taino Indians who have inhabited the Island since its known history. Puerto Ricans are passionate about everything:  from religion and politics, to music, sports and even beauty pageants. Most islanders have the gift of gab and are very much prone to gossip. After all, the art of conversation had much to do with having an ample line of subjects to discuss, including not only serious subjects such as politics but also your neighbors and your family… and yes, the lives of total strangers most of us had no business talking about. Often confused with a having a bad temper, we know that we must stand by our convictions and want to ensure that everyone knows where we stand. Not that we are trying to prove that others are necessarily wrong and we are right mind you. We just want to prove a point.  It is just our way of displaying that we stand by what we preach. And we love music, especially the undolating tones of the Afro-Caribbean beat.

I was born into what is officially known as the “Estado Libre Associado de Puerto Rico”, what gets erroneously translated as the “Commonwealth of Puerto Rico”. Allow me to translate the territory’s official name: The Free Associated State of Puerto Rico. Is Puerto Rico really a state? Not really. It is by definition a colony of the United States. Is Puerto Rico free? Negative. It is a protectorate of the United States. Is that association by free choice? No. Puerto Rico became part of the United States as bounty of War.  So politically speaking, who are we?  On one hand, we are given the opportunity to repesent our country as an independant nation during the Olympics, and on the other the Puerto Rican flag or Coat of Arms cannot be displayed anywhere when a foreign dignatary arrvies in the Island as was the case on the ocassion of Pope John Paul II's visit to celebrate the Eucharist in the 1980's.

When I was in elementary school, we were taught that Puerto Rico was of paramount importance to the United States as it was in military, economic and cultural terms located on a very strategic geographical point. We were the gateway between the old world and the new, between Europe and Africa and the rest of America. In times of war, Puerto Rico was and would be, the place where all operations in defense of the United States would emanate from. Today we know that such a presumption was terribly naive. We were never taught of the horrific scientific experiments that were conducted with Puerto Rican women, of the Marine’s many secret (and not to secret) war games in our land, just to name two. But our association with the United States had many positive aspects as well. American citizenship was chief amongst those benefits. For this, we were the envy of the entire continent. However, there were many others who would have died to see the Island a free country rather than to consider the possibility of annexation to a county that was not Catholic, did not speak our language, and could not understand nor cared to learn about our culture. Truth be told, I do not think that Puerto Rico could have survived without the aid of the United States. Were Puerto Rico to become independent tomorrow, I do not see how it could sustain itself. To explain the intricate details of this very complex political association, would take a long time and it is not my intent to dictate a lecture on such matters.

As you may already know, I came to the United States when I was 18 years old to attend college. Having been raised in a melting pot, little did I know that other people were not as color-blind as I was. I not only looked different, despite being a “white” Puerto Rican, but I sounded “funny” and spoke in the very proper “Queen’s English”, although at the time, I did not know what any of those things meant. Scared as I was to be in a foreign land, there were things that were very familiar to me as I was well acquainted with many aspects of American culture, as is the rest of the world, I suppose. America dominated the world in fashion, pop-culture and politics. Who I was, or rather, where I had come from, became a major issue the moment I landed in this country although hitherto had been of no importance.

I attended college on a full academic scholarship. Not only because I was a good student, but because I was a “minority”. In college, someone whom I considered a very dear, close American friend at the time, told me on my sophomore year, that it was because of people like me, that other deserving American students could not attend the college of their choice, namely the University of Massachusetts. To Jonathan, I had “stolen” their rightful place. In his mind, I was a case of Affirmative Action turned Reverse Discrimination. At the age of 20, and lacking the wisdom and maturity required to debate such a point, I became very defensive…and angry. I had never seen myself in such light. Why was my background such a big deal? My parents had raised me to treat everyone the same, so I could not understand where all this obsession with skin color and ethnical background was coming from nor the reason for it.

I had studied hard and had earned my rightful place, or at least that is what I thought. What Jonathan was trying to say I now believe is that we, some selected foreign students, got special treatment, and I believe today that we did. The way my entry score into college had been determined, I later learned, was by adding the high math score I had gotten in my SATs, to the high score I had received in the TOEFL, (the test of English as a second language) and ignoring the language portion of the SAT. By doing so, my score was as high as or higher than many who had only taken the SAT and had not been given any special consideration because they did not speak another language as their first. In my heart, I believe that University is a place where the learning needs to be not only academic, but cultural and diverse. By admitting students from other cultures, the Universities have the special responsibility to create a diverse environment that encourages learning and the development of a more open and tolerant society. Jonathan may have been right in some aspects, but what some of my American fellow students received in return is something that you do not get in a Puerto Rican institution of higher learning: to be truly exposed to the World at large and its people. Today, I do not naively think that I got admitted for such a lofty and honorable reason.  I realize it all translated into quotas and funding.

Since college, I have had the opportunity to work all over the United States and have been exposed to many cultures within our country. I do not mean cultures in the sense of other countries, but idiosyncrasies of peoples of different states. Minnesotans have their own culture, as do Californians, New Englanders, Texans and Southerners. It is amazing to me how one region of the country can be so different from another and how there is, although in a rather subdued fashion, a type of prejudice between residents of different states towards one another. As I have lived and coexisted with peoples of all backgrounds, I have taken in some of their cultural identities as well—and I love it. I can relate to all these individuals and not feel out of place when in their presence, for I have done what every human being should do to: to understand, learn and absorb your neighbors culture.

Turning 36 was a pivotal moment for me. That marked the year, where I had lived the same amount of time in Puerto Rico and the US. As my mother used to say to me in my late twenties and early thirties, that would be the time when I would begin feeling that I did not know where I belonged for despite having been born in a small, Spanish-speaking, Catholic Caribbean Island, I would become more and more assimilated to the culture of the United States. She was right. I know and feel proud of where I came from albeit with some sense of loss and distance. That part of my life is always latent in my thoughts.

What the future holds, I do not know.   I fear losing my language, so I speak Spanish whenever I can. Sometimes it scares me that I cannot remember how to say something, but my parents are always there to remind me. What will happen when they are gone? What will happen to my link to the Island? I fear losing my music. I have few Spanish records. Music being what it is, I can honestly say that I cannot relate to the modern Hispanic musical sensibilities. Perhaps, I am beginning to feel like my father, whom I used to make fun of for listening to music that I as I child considered old-fashion. To my astonishment, today I consider those then-awful tunes, “classics”. I fear losing touch with our literature. I love Spanish literature. A bit at a time, I have begun to purchase classics of Spanish and Latin American literature…in Spanish. I want to read them all again. It will be may way to re-connect.

I still visit Puerto Rico frequently and does my heart a lot of good. There is nothing like being in the land where you first drew breath.   So, am I American by virtue of my citizenship and Puerto Rico's affiliation with the US or am I Puerto Rican or Latino?  I guess I am all those things, but my heart still longs for the island with the blue sea, where the mountains touch the ocean and the sun radiates with refulgent splendor.  Today is the 4th of July: the celebration of American independence. As I count my blessings for all that this great county has given me, I feel that a part of me is getting lost in the distance and as I move farther along the path of life, the Island I see in the rear view mirror keeps getting smaller and smaller. I don’t ever want to lose sight of whom I am and where I came from. I will carry on and in my soul I always know where I once one belonged. Somehow I still do.  Rest assured.