Taking Off the Blindfold: How We Got Here In a Nutshell
By Rebeca Santiago
History tends to highlight a few events, with a particular focus on the people with the ability and faculties to document it. These events now seem normal, almost inevitable. But when you live history, the perspective changes by a lot. When you live it, you expect things to bounce back to the way they used to be, yet that’s never how history goes. Living history is like walking blindfolded: you think you have an idea of where you’re going, but when you open your eyes you have no idea what to make of your surroundings.
In the elaborate story that is history, things need to change for the plot to go on. The change is necessary and seemingly painless.
The key word here is seemingly. When we think about it, the past is filled with tragedy and pain, much like today. And as the people who lived that pain disappear, it feels more distant, colder, unreal. And this is how we end up in the same cycles with the end result of history repeating itself.
So this is a quick recap of what happened to our little Island.
I’ve come to realize that throughout my life, I’ve constantly heard that things are in the toilet, politically and economically speaking. There has always been an echo of a phrase we’ve always heard, but weren’t sure where it came from: things have never been as bad as they are now. With this mindset, things have never felt alright. The only time I can think of where people weren’t complaining about the economy and how it was being handled was when FDR was president (1944), and I was far from being born and this economic benefit wasn’t happening directly here.
I’ve never lived in an economically prosper Puerto Rico. I don’t know what that’s like. Then again, I don’t know what a lot of things are like. For example, how things used to be culturally and politically just a few decades ago. Back when more people lived in the mountains and education was more what you learned on the field than what a teacher lectured.
Right around this time you would hear people say: “Luis Muñoz Marin made us people.” I remember my grandmother saying that her mother used to say that.
It says a lot that a certain person (that can still be called to memory) is the pinpoint moment or determination of when a community was given enough rights or recognition to be called people. The history of our little Island has been filled with indignation, inhumanity, and over all injustice. It’s the oldest colony in the Caribbean (and colonies aren’t even supposed to be a thing). We were experimented on and the people that fought for our independence were the first to experience methods of torture involving radiation (1951).
This being written in English may come off a little hypocritical, granted. But these are the effects of being the colony of one of the biggest superpowers in the world. First, we were Spain’s and Ramon Power y Giralt (1811) fought for our equal treatment. Then we were handed over to the land of the free and home of the brave to be eventually poked and prodded in secret. We were expected to know a language without the proper education. And to this day we still want equity (even if it is through inefficient methods) and it’s not being delivered.
You may know our island’s name, because a couple of years ago we got our first Gold Medal in the Olympics (2016) or because we are the Star of the Caribbean (being outstandingly noticeable at night from the view of a plane or even a satellite, due to the amount of luminic contamination we produce) or because we rank high in the amount of asphalt there is (in excess, mind you) in relation with our 35×100 dimensions.
We tend to pound our chests with pride and stand tall when we say where we come from. But it’s hard to understand why. It’s hard to explain where the love one feels for their country comes from. We are blinded by our pride to reflect on the grim implications of our past. Maybe it’s the traditions and classic culture. It’s probably the only genuinely good thing we have.
Many would argue that our people have morals and hearts of gold and in part that’s true. We witnessed this during the aftermath of hurricane Maria, neighbor helping neighbor. But where did this go? During the aftermath, my family slept with a flimsy excuse of a gate that was only waist high. It was nerve racking at the beginning, but we grew used to it, much like I grew accustomed to walking home late in the dark and not being worried. But the electricity came back and now the notion of sleeping with half a gate or walking home alone is terrifying. The crime and the rate of its violence recently is, to say the least, alarming. It almost makes the idea of someone helping a neighbor sound ridiculous.
After a disaster such as hurricane Maria one would hope that something good might come out of that devastation. And to be honest, things aren’t that bad yet, but they’re soon going to be. Instead of help and politicians actually stepping up, all we got was more corruption and disappointment. We needed a leader, but we lacked one; we’ve lacked a real leader for decades. The way this situation and many others have been handled leave us with the pressing questions: was this the plan? Was this the route? It’s been a year and some change since Maria struck and we’re still feeling effects of this natural phenomenon. The irresponsibility with which this crisis has been handled is overwhelming. It makes anyone with half a brain question the efficiency of a government.
One feels they have their hands tied. So, this is me taking off the blindfold, seeing that soon we won’t be able to live here, knowing that the States don’t have the answer, and not really knowing what to do with myself. This is me hoping against hope that things will get better, while I pack my things, and head out the door. This is me hoping that someday I can come back home, knowing that home is where the heart is, and hoping that my heart stays in Puerto Rico.
For further reading, please check out (though don’t limit yourselves to) these writings:
-
War Against All Puerto Ricans by Nelson A. Denis
-
Los cerebros que se van y el corazón que se queda by Magali Garcia Ramis