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I envy Puertoricans
I have always carried a certain weight on top of me, a mental stopgap that doesn’t let me enjoy my heritage. My parents being from Peru, they identify themselves as Peruvians, even though they are very grateful of the opportunities Puerto Rico (and by extension the US) have given them. They even became citizens, because they thought it was the right thing.
They talked about their families in Peru, that long distance cousin and aunt. My grandmas that I met briefly. But they have never been nationalists, they don’t raise a flag of any country. They follow the politics of Peru or Puerto Rico with a bypass interest. They were more concerned with raising their family.
The thinking and pondering, I was the one that got that gene. I was mesmerized by the fact that Puertoricans loved their little island. There might be some bitterness at the fact that belongs to the United States, but they love every grain of sand they own. They carry their flags and are not afraid to show it. If you live near a latino community, you know that for sure. They are proud of their history and of their ups and downs.
Me, well, not so much. Not that hate it, but I could never share in that pride. It didn’t belong to me, I didn’t do anything to earn it, in my mind at least. I was always an outsider that just happened to live there.
You see, I don’t look Puertorican, and my Spanish accent, it seems is not Puertorican enough. Within minutes of meeting someone one their first questions was “Where you from?”. As if the years I have put into being part of their culture wasn’t enough. The fact that I knew their history and share their upbringing, I was still an outsider. A type of subtle racism.
Let me interject something here and make it clear, because whenever you bring “racism” into something it can be very divisive. The racism I talk about is not one of hate, or of reject. More of wondering. As if they are asking “How you made it here?”, “How you found out about us?”
There’s no malice behind their questions, but I couldn’t help but feel like I wasn’t one of them. I could share with them, and I could laugh with them, I could even be accepted by them, but never a true one of them. Again, this is my take on it, I still know my Puertorican friends never meant anything other than good in their actions and love for me and viceversa.
But when you don’t feel you belong to the place where you were born, then maybe you belong to the place your parents came from. After all, you came from them, you look like them.. So last year at the ripe old age of 34 I went to Peru.
I visited my extended family for the first time since I was 7 years old. I wasn’t sure what to expect. My parents were there too, so that helped in the introduction to family. They accepted me from the moment I landed. They treated me like if I have never left. They would introduce me to other family members and talk to me like if I knew what was going on in their families. I could feel their love even though they barely knew who I was just a few ours priors.
I can only say I love them for that. But I couldn’t help that I also wasn’t one of them. My skin color is lighter than them. The process foods that I eat and my bad habits makes me carry my weight in a different weight. The way I walk and talk is nothing like them. I was still an outsider.
Now all of this is in my head, I will admit to that. I carry that. I put that upon myself. And if I could get beyond that I would in a second. But for some reason I can’t.
Can’t help but feel like I will always be at the party looking in through the window. I wish I had pride in where I come from. I wish I could carry a flag and make it feel like it belongs in my hand. Listen to my country’s anthem and feel pride and joy. But I can’t. That’s not me. I’m just a vagabond really. A man without a country. I envy those who show their flag with pride.
I envy Puertoricans.
Except if you put your flag in your car’s windshield. That’s just plain trashy. lol.
35 years old and counting…
I’m going to change my life. For better or worse, I’m changing my life. And I’m scared for that.
I’m as scared of that, as I have been of anything else in my life. I’m too old to start over, and too young to give up. I’m too immature for my own good and too much of a thinker and not a doer.
That’s why I want to change. I want to embrace life and start anew, but I guess I’ll start my old tale at the beginning:
My parents are immigrants from Peru, my father is a very adventurous guy. He has lived a life that movie stars dream of. My mother has been his steady companion for about half a century. We didn’t grow up with much, but never poor. There wasn’t any big extravagant things in our house, but we always had a home. We didn’t go out to eat (rarely), but food was never scarce.
We grew up in Puerto Rico, my parents come from Peru. Both Spanish speaking countries, and while there’s some similarities, the differences are daunting. We speak the same language, but don’t talk the same. We eat the same ingredients but not the same foods. We are separated by years of traditions.
Puerto Rico, if you don’t know, is part of United States, we are not a state, but a commonwealth. A more politically minded person can tell you the more minute differences, but with the exception of some taxes that we don’t paid, and the fact that we can’t vote for the president, we are pretty much on-par with the other 50 states. A Hawaii that speaks Spanish if you want.
Not going to bore you with details, but Puerto Rico has never been an independent country. Not since the Spaniards claimed it in 1493 by Christopher Columbus (yes, that Columbus). We were owned by Spain until 1898 when Spain and United States got into a little turf war. Spain lost and as part of the treaty, Spain granted independence to Cuba and Puerto Rico became a consolation prize to United States. The U.S.A. really wanted Cuba, but Cuba was in the middle of it’s own independence fight with Spain, so it was easier to take over the smaller island of Puerto Rico.
Puertoricans are conflicted with this, some like the status quo, others want to become the 51st state, and a smaller contingency wants independence. Politics are the #1 sports in Puerto Rico, followed by Baseball, Basketball, Boxing. So every four years there’s a big fight over which party is going to take over. As a kid it was hard to understand all the different points of views, and when I was able to see them, I realized that I just didn’t care enough. If I wanted to become a state (my preference) it was just easier to go to the States. I never voted in a Puerto Rico election, I was finally eligible to vote a week after the elections. By the time the next election rolled around I was already living in United States.
Forgot to mentioned, one of the perks of being born in Puerto Rico, is that you are a US citizen by birthright, so there was no VISA hoops to go through to come to America.
I’ll talk more about my parents and Peru on my next post.
Don't Follow My Lead 