I cannot continue to stay silent about the systemic and ecological disasters going on in the Caribbean. Homes destroyed and mass bought by bigger entities to drive out natives of their own homes. Hand built, cared for, and painted with their own flesh blood and tears only to be forced out and covered over with boring white paint to create unity and the tourist dream. While I can not speak from personal experience from other counties in the Caribbean our stories have similar themes of disaster, displacement, and a watering down of culture to create a comfortable bed for disrespecting tourist to lay in (not all tourist are bad this speaks only to the ones who suck).
Pictured above we have my paternal grandmothers home post Maria and consistent earthquakes that take place multiple times each year. I hadn’t visited my grandmothers home in Guanica, Puerto Rico in some time ,and sadly neither had she. Before my grandmother left this earth she had some memory of home having doors, windows, and even a gate in the front of her driveway. She was a stereotypical insane cleaner so if she saw this many weeds she would lose her mind.
Last time I had seen this I was with her in the back cutting open coconuts with her 3 machetes, trying to catch chickens, and then ending the day playing dominos on that top porch. See the last time I was there I didn’t need her address cause I was with her. So when me and my mom where taking care of family in PR we decided to take our free time and drive from the north-west down an hour to my grandmothers home. We knew which barrio to go to ,but thought that since we had went so many times we could wing it when it came to finding her house. We were lost.
This state of lost was not just due to not recognizing the area it was more than that. It felt like a haze driving through. A clouded memory while driving through the streets. Seeing places that felt known ,but missing a puzzle piece. After sometime driving and almost deciding to call it quits we took one more lap. I told my mother that I knew for a fact what the house next to her house looked like so let’s go looking for that one instead. On our last loop we found her home.
I was overwhelmed not only by the sight of the home ,but also to the realization that we had passed her home 3x’s. I had realized only after that we kept passing her house due to recognizing a new house that we had pointed out each time we had passed it. Her house had become such a shell of itself that we drove passed it with no clue in the world. We walked through the grass seeing an unkempt pomegranate tree that you could tell had not been tended to due to many cycles of rotten fruit on the ground. We didn’t even dare enter the actual house because the foundation was already classified as weak, and it was visible with cracks all throughout the walls. We saw paint chipping and even a stray goat tied up to said tree (he was sweet and just stared at me as his goat friend were at the next house over).
What is not shown in the picture of my grandmothers house is a spray painted number. These numbers could be a result of FEMA marking these homes ,but are more consistent with homes needing to be demolished due to an inability to live in said homes. And many these homes were marked by these numbers. All that flashed through my head were images of my father as a young boy walking to the bus stop, park, or even his families homes. I could only but image what he would feel walking through these streets. Seeing the dust of the dirt clouding the roads. I remember being in the house hearing trucks with big speakers blasting the radios going up and down each street getting quieter or louder based on their distance.
But at the end of this I get to go home. I go home to my home and bed unaffected. Yes with worries of where I might end up ,but not to the extent families in Guanica or Rincon or Aibonito or any area of Puerto Rico has to imagine. I get to chose to live with my community or to take the risk to venture afar(with the little money I have). But to the average Boricua that choice is almost always made for them. Leave and find safety or stay and risk displacement. Also with the caveat that you water and light will be cut off semi regularly.
There is a love and admiration for this country that is brewing revolution. Nurses ready to fight for livable wages, citizens reminding everyone that Las playas son del pueblo (the beaches are for the people), students fighting for their schools to stay open, and everyone fighting for their right to stay in their land. So when you see a Bad Bunny concert clip on TikTok or maybe even go to see him live look into the crowd of people fighting for their country, their homes that they worked so hard for, their education and healthcare that they are owed. Understand his lyrics because they aren’t just throw away lyrics about sex and drugs. They are a portrait of the Puerto Rican people live in action battling everyday for a better Borikén. They are a part of the struggles taking place in all of Haiti, The Virgin Islands, Cuba, and every other Caribbean island. Go and support local business, be respectful, and learn/connect with the natives just trying to stay on their enchanted island.
Ps.
If you can connect this to your families home let me know your experiences! I know I am mainly talking about Puerto Rico/ the Caribbean due to family heritage and that being my area of study ,but it is not lost on me that this connects in it own ways to other countries.
Im just here learning more about my culture everyday unapologetically and trying to be a platform for others in their walks of life. Puerto Rico is a big part of my life through language, music, education. I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the actually struggles friends, family ,and other citizens have/currently are going through in all areas. It is more than a vacation spot it is a home to many.