(Chicago Park District Board of Commission) 

(Institute of Puerto Rican Arts & Culture)

- Wednesday, February 8th marks a new benchmark for Puerto Rican Chicago.  On that date the Chicago Park District Board voted unanimously to designate IPRAC as a Museum In The Park. This momentous event caps off nearly 10 years of struggle by community leaders to establish IPRAC as a Museum In The Park. IPRAC now becomes the only museum in the United States exclusively dedicated to the artistic and cultural expressions of the Puerto Rican community; and joins the exclusive domain of such museums as the Museum of Science and Industry, the DuSable Museum and the National Museum of Mexican Art.

Ray Vázquez, Chairman of the Board of IPRAC, in expressing his gratitude to the board of commissioners of the Chicago Park District, stated: “This is a historic day for Chicago’s Puerto Rican community, but more importantly, it speaks to Chicago’s commitment to diversity. Today, all of Chicago should celebrate this momentous occasion.” There are many people who need to be thanked, too many to name here, but a special thanks must go out to Mayor Rahm Emanuel, Governor Pat Quinn, State Representative Cynthia Soto, Billy Ocasio and Carmen Lonstein. Without their efforts, this historic moment would not have been possible. A celebratory event will take place in the near future for community residents to partake in a celebration of IPRAC’s recent achievement and the major milestone it represents for the Humboldt Park residents and the Puerto Rican community.

3015 W. Division St. • www.IPRAC.ORG • www.Facebook.com/IPRAC

My great-grandfather, Marcos Burgos Santiago, died at the age of ninety-nine. His funeral, as my cousin Denise recalled, was larger than life. It seemed as if the entire town came to pay their respects to the oldest man that they knew. He had never lived anywhere else but in Juncos, Puerto Rico, in the same barrio, just like his parents before him. His house, once made up of dirt floors and a tin roof, now serves a new generation of family residing comfortably behind concrete walls. I remember still how he would show me, with pride, a missing part of his finger, chopped off from a machete while he worked harvesting sugarcane. In a way, he was showcasing how much the land was bounded to him and to the extent in which it left its mark.

Though he lived what many would call a long and full life, one thing haunts me. Born at the turn of the 20th century, Don Marcos resided completely under the rule of the United States. Almost one hundred years of life and he never knew what it meant to live in freedom. He knew love, being married to my great-grandmother for nearly seventy years. He knew pain, having comforted his six-year-old daughter, as she lay in her death bed, waiting for his return from the fields so as to pass finally into oblivion. But not freedom. Even worse, nor did his parents, who lived under Spanish rule, or their parents before them. Five-hundred-years have passed and Puerto Rico remains a colony, property of another country with a government that does not nor is expected to have our interests or our feelings in mind. Even the most ardent pro-statehooder acknowledges this. The same for some populares, if you catch them in a bar on a warm Saturday evening. Five. Hundred. Years.

There was more for Don Marcos to care about, of course, than some nebulous and abstract concepts like freedom, self-determination, and a representative democracy that shares a stage among a league of nations. He had to feed his family (made increasingly difficult by the guzzling-up of arable land by corporate greed that transformed the island into a sugar monopoly).
He had to ensure a formal education for his children (who were taught that Spanish was a primitive language and that their forefather was George Washington). His severed finger was a life-long indicator of his endurance and hard-work. But such a scar dug deeper than it appeared to be. It cloaked the entire island. The ugly and disgusting scar of colonialism.
Like millions of others, Don Marcos’ son left the barrio for the fields of New Jersey and then to the decaying Chicago metropolis, to make a new life with his wife and children. None ever returned to live among the yellow flamboyan trees and probably never will. But we should shed no more tears. Although the island is of a far spatial and temporal distance, it is an undeniable spiritual center of our existence. Our beloved Zion.

However, we have not only extended the boundaries of an ethno-cultural nation located on the island, but in some ways, constructed a parallel national experience. It is too difficult for those, like Don Marcos, who never left, to fully and deeply connect with the poetry of Pedro Pietri, or the prose of Nicholasa Mohr, or some of the plays of Jose Rivera. We are diaspora people with our own distinctiveness. More importantly, we inhabit lands that we call our own.

A little over a month ago, I asked a close friend to explore with me the Puerto Rican communities of Williamsburg and Bushwick, Brooklyn, places, like El Barrio in Manhattan, where her own grandparents migrated to. As we traveled through locations with street-signs marking “Avenue of Puerto Rico” and “Borinquen Place” we soon realized that the eroding murals depicting urban jibaros and palm trees spoke to a Golden Age long dislodged from reality.
With the exception of a few cars blasting reggaeton and rows of housing projects that reflect our state-sponsored ghettoization, this side of Brooklyn was visibly absent of a once bustling Puerto Rican enclave. Although the street was teeming with young, white “hipsters” visiting store-front art galleries, it was as if we were metaphysically stranded in a desert. The life we were seeking did not exist but in our memories, so nothing around us stimulated our senses. We longed for a place we could call home.

Mari and I both have homes, though, and in historic Puerto Rican communities too; the South Bronx and Humboldt Park, respectively. Just as my family could travel outside of their small town and experience the landscape of their nation, the possibility also exists in the diaspora. Similar to the Black, Chicana/o, and Native American experiences, while we have settled in clusters in diverse and disparate areas throughout the U.S., we have an opportunity to witness our communities and to share our histories and struggles. This is how we develop(ed) a collective identity and potentially find a forum from which we seek solutions to our ills.

Moreover, such a dynamic expands the “va y ven” paradigm that conceptualizes a multi-linear route between U.S. cities and towns towards and from the island. I propose to you that there simultaneously exist, especially in settlement and occupation patterns, a movement between the diaspora enclaves. Unfortunately, not so much in terms of dialogue and community-building efforts.

Many times we speak of “our people” as some amorphous tangled body living in the air. Though we are not all inhabiting rigid geographic areas, there are numerous locations, such as in Newark, Orlando, Philadelphia, and Chicago, where we have constructed community for generations; where our artistic and political expressions have blossomed. The areas, oftentimes left to us in disarray, have also been loci of a decolonization process, because in them we have exhibited what was denied to us on the island, denied from Don Marcos: self-determination.
But colonialism stalks us wherever we lay our feet, this time in the form of gentrification that rips away the freedom for self-dewfinition and self-reliance. We must begin then to imagine ourselves as conducting a distinct national experience rooted, like my great-grandfather’s hands, in land. Subsequently, we will realize our immense responsibility to each other in composing a country-wide challenge to the most alarming and destructive force facing us today.

In other words, displacement in Graham Avenue in Bushwhick should be just as important to Clark Avenue in Cleveland or Park Street in Hartford, because they all inhabit a vast Boricuascape. Without such a vision and action-plan, our descendants too may lament over a burden that should have been kept from them long ago.

Xavier “Xavi” Luis Burgos

While we all have our favorite musicians: past, present and futuristic; baby, I was made to El Gran Combo de Puerto Rico’s music. While many musical talents are worth mentioning, to me, none are more deserving than thee.  I hereby exercise my First Amendment Right to Freedom of Speech to wit: “El Gran Combo de Puerto Rico as a whole and each individual member, past and present, are phenomenon’s in their field.” Since 1962, this group of Salsa Gods has been touring the world enticing all ears and teaching the world that Salsa genre is timeless, distinguished, classy, well-formed as well as exceptionally lyricfied. Their songs are magically conformed to everyday Latin life-expressions. It’s internationally identifiable; just read some of their song titles below:

 - El Matrimonio
(Matrimony)
- La Receta de Amor
(Love’s recipe)
-  Sin Salsa no Hay Paraiso
(Aint’ no paradise without Salsa)
- Me Liberé
(I’m liberated!)
- Jala Jala
(Pull-Pull)

Rafael Ithier, who will turn 86 years of age this year, was first seduced by music at the tender age of 8. His first job at age 8, was as a guitarist for a group named “Conjunto Lucerito” in which he earned a quarter per gig. While his dream was to be a baseball player, the economic hardship at home and the death of his father, forced him to continue earning a living as a musician.
Today he stands a legend. As so, he remains a serene, pleasing and sympathetic humble man. So humble in fact, that when you hear my interview, the tone is that of one catching up with a family member.
Rafael was born in “La Perla” of Viejo San Juan, Puerto Rico in 1926, born to Nicolas and Merida Ithier. Rafa’s first influence was his father, a guitarist. Another great influence was his uncle Salvador, also a guitarist and a vocalist for a group named “Trio Borinquen” de Rafael Hernández Marín. It would seem as though, as many Puerto Ricans in similar times, he was forced to work rather than pursue an education. Lucky for us, he did not pursue an education in commercial business administration, as he once wished; instead, right after his military career, he took his hunger for business and talent for music and took his steps into what culminated in the empire we know today to be “El Gran Combo de Puerto Rico.”
While speaking to him, I realized how the most monumental moments in each of our lives start with one instant. Rafa’s moment came right after he was discharged from the military; he sought out his buddies (Cortijo y su Combo) to reunite and celebrate his return. At the time they were at a radio station doing a show, they pulled him in to perform and that’s how, in a nutshell, his road to El Gran Combo began.
While Rafa attributes much of his success to his experience as a band member, among others, to “Cortijo y su Combo” it goes without saying that his longevity has proved successful. Similarly, to date he has upheld and continues to infect all members with a professional expectation and demeanor that entails responsibility on the part of all members as well as timeliness and seriousness for the art. He explained to me that he instilled in each member to look at the group for what it is, “a job,” and it’s to be taken serious. He mentioned that pleasures and business should never be mixed. Obviously, this explains El Gran Combo’s long-term success.

Interview:

Transcription:
(M/Madeline) (R/Rafael)

M: ¿Qué consejo le daría usted a los artistas salseros jóvenes para llegar a la grandeza de El Gran Combo?
R: Bueno, que sean responsables, que sean disciplinados, que huyan de los vicios y las drogas y que se respeten a ellos mismos para que puedan respetar a los demás, verdad?  Porque si uno no se respeta a uno mismo, no puedes respetar a los demás; esto está demás pa’ decirlo.  Lo ve? Y que se dediquen a eso, si se van a dedicar.
M: En su opinión profesional como director de El Gran Combo, ¿cómo es que han podido llegar ustedes a poder celebrar 50 años de aniversario, qué ha sido “la caña”, verdad, lo más esencial de un grupo salsero para poder llegar a esta larga trayectoria de 50 años?
R: Bueno, como te dije, nosotros hemos sido bastante responsables, yo pienso, que nosotros hemos tenido la dicha, verdad, de tener una serie de cooperación de los medios de comunicación que han sido muy cooperadores con nosotros. Y pienso que eso también ayuda, porque eso hace falta la promoción.  Y nosotros, pues yo pienso, hemos sido bastante responsables.  No somos ni estamos locos, ni se nos sube a la cabeza que, ¿cómo se dice?, que somos grandes estrellas. Sabemos que tenemos que trabajar con responsabilidad y yo creo que esos han sido los motivos, las razones por la cuales hemos sido tan disciplinados.  No permitimos vicios aquí que sean exagerados ni cosas de drogas; eso no se permite en El Gran Combo. Pienso que ése ha sido el motivo y razón por lo cual El Gran Combo ha durado tanto.M: ¿Qué ha sido lo más difícil de ser el director de El Gra
Combo?
R: Bueno, lo más difícil ha sido, sobre todo, naturalmente, tratar de bregar con doce o trece caracteres diferente, verdad?  Y crearles conciencia de que nosotros, todos, tenemos un propósito.  “YO NO SOY EL GRAN COMBO, EL GRAN COMBO SOMOS TODOS NOSOTROS.”
El mismo empeño que yo pongo, tienen que ponerlo todos.  Y la misma responsabilidad que yo tengo, tienen que tenerla todos.  Y, tú sabes, cuando vienen nuevos, pues vienen con problemas de resabios y costumbres que traen de otros sitios, y esas cosas.  Bueno, coordinar todo eso al extremo de que ellos entiendan y hayan creado conciencia, yo creo que lo han logrado. Saben que nosotros tenemos una responsabilidad, tú sabes, porque somos El Gran Combo de Puerto Rico. Que nos miran como un símbolo, nos miran como unos representantes, una representación de Puerto Rico. Es una responsabilidad adicional para tocar más. O tocar bien o tocar mal, lo que sea.  Y yo creo que ya los muchachos, a la edad que tenemos nosotros, pues ya sabemos y hemos creado conciencia de que eso es muy importante, y que eso hay que hacerlo y hacerlo bien. Todo bien que hagamos, pues nos va a beneficiar, y todo mal que hagamos, pues nos va a hacer daño. Yo creo que ya los muchachos tienen conciencia de todo eso.  Y por eso yo creo que tú ves que no tenemos problemas en ese aspecto de decir que aquí no hay mucho resabio, ni muchas malas mañas, ni malas costumbres; porque somos responsables de que todo lo bueno que hagamos nos va a seguir beneficiando. El grupo está consciente de eso.
M: Que le puedes decir a su publico quien se preocupa que las futuras generaciones dentro de la  salsa pierdan la humildez y sus fundamientos?.
R: Pienso que hay buenos muchachos, verdad, que están haciendo buena música, que quizás no tengan la promoción que tuvimos nosotros, porque ahora el asunto de la radio y la televisión se hace mas difícil.  Y hay buenos artistas que si tuvieran quizás, la oportunidad de que los promovieran como nos promovieron a nosotros tantos años atrás, pues los ayudaría mucho, tú sabes.  Pero, pienso que también hay muchos muchachos de éstos, muchachos jóvenes, verdad, que quizás no estén preparados para, como digo yo, recibir un aplauso.  Se le da un aplauso y “pierden la tabla” como digo yo, verdad.  Y entonces quizás no están preparados para eso; los aplauden dos veces y se le llena la cabeza de humo, y una serie de cosas que a la larga les hace daño. ¿Tú entiendes?
M: Exacto.
R: Pero cosas buenas, y talentos buenos hay de sobra, ¿tú endientes?  Y yo pienso, verdad, que si se dedicaran de lleno a ésto y se olvidaran de los nombres de las posiciones que yo soy “number one,” y yo me como la gente viva y esas cosas y demás, pues van a llegar, porque talento tienen.  Y es cuestión de que entiendan que esto es un trabajo, que esto es un negocio, que esto, mientras más accesible y humilde uno sea, pues más la gente te va a querer y más te va a admirar, ¿lo ves? Y entonces, pues…  ¡Esto es mucha responsabilidad!  Cuando vean que hay que empezar a las diez, es empezar a las 10, no empiezas a las 11.  Y los vicios, tienen que eliminarlos, los vicios se acabaron.  Eso es lo que rompe los paradigmas de las situaciones.  Pero, yo creo que hay buen talento, si se empeñan pueden lograrlo, quizás no logren 50 años, pero yo pienso que vas a ver cosas dentro de 4 o 5 años, de mucha, mucha fuerza.

Mádeline Rodríguez

Este es un día glorioso  y agradezco al Ateneo de Puerto Rico y a su presidente, mi buen amigo, el Doctor José Milton Soltero por haberme hecho el honor de invitarme a compartirlo con todos ustedes. Es glorioso que nuestro pueblo se reúna, como hoy, a conmemorar y celebrar su historia, su cultura y a sus héroes.
Porque, como muy bien dice el Grupo “Puerto Rico Para Tod@s” (todos y todas), grupo que defiende los derechos humanos de los homosexuales, las lesbianas, las personas bisexuales y transgénicas, Puerto Rico nos pertenece a todos, y a todas,  los y las boricuas. Hoy conmemoramos otro aniversario de la bandera de Puerto Rico. Esa bandera que nos une.  Esa bandera que nos emociona y nos enorgullece cuando se levanta en cualquier parte del planeta.
Esa bandera que hoy, la mayoría abrumadora de todos los puertorriqueños, los que residen en la isla y los que residen fuera de la isla reconocen como su bandera, pero que en un tiempo no muy lejano le costó persecución y cárcel a quienes la levantaron. Esa bandera fue creada por los puertorriqueños organizados en la Sección Puerto Rico del Partido Revolucionario Cubano en la ciudad de Nueva York.  O, sea, esa bandera que hoy es la de todos los puertorriqueños la diseñaron boricuas que residían en Estados Unidos. Esos patriotas eran, como el gran Apóstol cubano y de toda América, el gran José Martí, discípulos del gran Ramón Emeterio Betances.
Betances, el Padre de la Patria, el primer ciudadano de Puerto Rico, El Antillano, a quien también honramos aquí hoy. Ese mismo Betances, quien junto a Eugenio María de Hostos y Segundo Ruiz Belvis le dieron continuidad histórica a la lucha de Simón Bolívar por obtener la libertad de toda América, luchando por la independencia y la unidad de todas las Antillas, y por  la libertad de todos los seres humanos, empezando por la de los esclavos.
Betances nos enseñó con su ejemplo que se lucha por la justicia desde cualquier lugar donde el destino nos ubica.  Y nos enseñó, que nadie se puede considerar verdaderamente libre mientras otros sufran opresión y persecución. Siguiendo su ejemplo, hoy damos la lucha por lograr justicia para los inmigrantes en Estados Unidos.
Más de doce millones de seres humanos, muchos de ellos procedentes de nuestros países hermanos de la América Latina que llegaron a Estados Unidos buscando lo mismo que millones de boricuas que emigraron allá, buscando empleo para ganarse el pan y para proveerle a sus hijos una vida decente y próspera.  Gente trabajadora y decente, muchos de los cuales tienen esposos ó esposas, ó hijos que son ciudadanos de Estados Unidos,  Son trabajadores que hacen los trabajos que nadie quiere hacer, con los sueldos más bajos y con las condiciones de trabajo y de vivienda peores.  Estos hermanos y hermanas viven aterrorizados con la posibilidad de ser deportados y de que sus familias sean divididas. Sin duda, este es el gran asunto de derechos humanos en los Estados Unidos hoy. Estoy seguro que si viviese, el Doctor Betances me estaría orientando cómo mejor adelantar esta lucha a la que dedico tanto estos esfuerzos. Y en esa lucha, como en muchas otras, la comunidad puertorriqueña residente en Estados Unidos hace grandes contribuciones.
La patria puertorriqueña nos pertenece a todos, los que residen en la isla y los que residimos fuera de ella. Y todos contribuimos  como mejor podemos a hacerla grande.  Como esos puertorriqueños residentes de Nueva York que diseñaron nuestra bandera. Ó, como Rafael Hernández, cuando escribió “Lamento Borincano” también en Nueva York. Ó como los jóvenes boricuas en Nueva York y otras partes que tanto contribuyeron a la creación de lo que hoy llamamos Salsa.  Lo que hoy se conoce como “estudios puertorriqueños” es una gran contribución académica de la diáspora boricua a Puerto Rico y al mundo.
También algo que no se comenta mucho pero que ha sido  y es  tan importante para la economía de Puerto Rico, los billones de dólares que los emigrantes puertorriqueños han enviado a través de los años a sus familiares en la isla.  Esto es lo que hoy llamamos “remesas”, y estos envíos que hacen los trabajadores migrantes a sus familias en México, El Salvador y muchos otros países es uno de los renglones principales de esas economías, como también lo es en Puerto Rico.
Puerto Rico nos pertenece a todos y todos tenemos el derecho inalienable de participar en cualquier proceso serio de autodeterminación de Puerto Rico.  Así como Betances y Hostos nunca renunciaron a su derecho y a su deber de participar en los procesos descolonizadores de  Puerto Rico, hoy no se puede concebir de un proceso genuino para la solución de la condición colonial de Puerto Rico que no incluya a todos los puertorriqueños, residentes y no residentes en la isla, en igualdad de condiciones y derechos.
Puerto Rico nos pertenece a todos.  Le pertenece a las generaciones pasadas, como la de Betances, le pertenece a nuestra generación y le pertenece a las generaciones futuras. Esas generaciones futuras están representadas aquí hoy por René Pérez,  Residente,  Calle 13.
René Pérez es el Roberto Clemente de la música nueva.  Así como Clemente barría con los títulos de bateo, René Pérez ha barrido con los “Grammies”.  Diecinueve Grammies, incluyendo el “Disco del Año”.  Increíble. Y todos los boricuas orgullosos gritamos “Pa’ lante René”
En su canción “Latinoamérica” que se ganó el premio Grammy por “”Canción del Año”, René escribió: “Soy lo que me enseñó mi padre, El que no quiere a su patria no quiere a su madre,  Soy América Latina, un pueblo sin piernas pero que camina”. Estas palabras las pudo haber escrito Betances, Albizu Campos Julia de Burgos, ó Juan Antonio Corretjer.
Calle 13 es la voz de muchos jóvenes puertorriqueños y latinoamericanos.  Representa un punto de vista nuevo, sin tapujos ni frenos.  Expresa frustración y rabia con una realidad colonial, con la opresión, con la desigualdad social, los prejuicios y está en abierta solidaridad con los pobres, los trabajadores, los inmigrantes.  Es una voz de compromiso con la patria y con toda América Latina, comprometida con la justicia y en rebeldía abierta contra los opresores y sus representantes. René Pérez es merecedor de la Medalla Ramón Emeterio Betances que hoy le otorga el Ateneo, y  me honro en unir mi voz a ese homenaje. Sí, la patria nos pertenece a todos.
Por eso, nada más apropiado que dedicarle este evento de hoy a Oscar López. A  él también le pertenece esta patria y él pertenece en ella. Oscar López Rivera es mucho más que un prisionero político. Oscar López es un ser humano que siente y padece, como todos nosotros. Ya es tiempo de traerlo a casa. Siempre he pensado que para caminar hacia adelante como pueblo, debe existir la reconciliación entre los puertorriqueños. Debemos unirnos en todo aquello que podamos unirnos.  Y pienso que no se puede avanzar en la ruta de la descolonización de Puerto Rico mientras tengamos personas en la cárcel por haber luchado contra el colonialismo.
Todos los 19 años que llevo sirviendo como miembro del Congreso representando al cuarto distrito de Illinois he dedicado tiempo y esfuerzos a lograr la excarcelación de los prisioneros políticos puertorriqueños.  De los 15 prisioneros políticos puertorriqueños de Chicago que comenzaron a servir sentencias a finales de los años ‘70’s y principios de los ‘80’s y luego de más de treinta años en la cárcel, Oscar López es hoy el único del que permanece encarcelado.
Esta es una situación que debe tocarnos en lo más profundo de nuestros corazones y nuestra alma. A los puertorriqueños nos disgusta el abuso y la injusticia, y no existen otras palabras para  describir la situación de Oscar. Como ustedes saben, mi padre falleció el 11 de diciembre.  De inmediato hice lo que haría cualquier puertorriqueño, me monté en un avión y vine a San Sebastián a  acompañar  a mi mamá y a compartir con mi familia.  Tengo muy fresco en mi mente lo importante que fue para toda nuestra familia y para mi estar juntos frente a esta situación. A Oscar se le negó ese derecho humano básico, cuando murió su madre, Doña Mita, y cuando falleció, más recientemente su hermana Clara.
Caminando por el barrio de Chicago ó por las calles de las ciudades, pueblos y campos de Puerto Rico he visto cómo gente común y corriente se acerca a los prisioneros políticos liberados y les abrazan, les estrechan sus manos, le expresan su aprecio y cariño. Y he visto con gran alegría como estos compatriotas se han integrado a la vida,  tanto a la vida de sus familias y sus amigos y de su pueblo, pero también a sus propias vidas, donde se envuelven en sus trabajos ó sus talleres de arte ó artesanías y a sus actividades libremente escogidas.
El pueblo puertorriqueño les ha recibido a todos con los brazos abiertos. A todos, menos a uno.  Al que todavía mantienen injustamente en prisión.

- A Oscar López Rivera
A través de todos estos años, he tenido la oportunidad de visitar a Oscar en la prisión en muchas ocasiones.
He visto, cómo su cuerpo comienza a mostrar el paso del tiempo. Pero, también he visto cómo ante las peores adversidades su espíritu se crece y se fortalece.  A través de todos estos años he visto como su compromiso con su patria y con su pueblo nunca ha dado la menor señal de debilitamiento.
De hecho, a Oscar lo convencieron amigos, familiares y compañeros de que saliendo Carlos Alberto Torres de la prisión aceptara participar de la audiencia para considerar su libertad condicional, ó “Parole”. Sencillamente, luego de más de 30 años de prisión, no tiene sentido que Oscar siga encarcelado.
Desafortunadamente, esta petición de libertad bajo palabra fue recientemente denegada de  manera cruel e injusta. Oscar nunca fue acusado, y mucho menos encontrado culpable de de hacerle daño a persona alguna.  ¿Cómo es posible que veamos a asesinos, violadores, y traficantes de drogas salir de la cárcel luego de 5, 10 ó 20 años, mientras mantienen a Oscar preso luego de servir 30 años?
Basta pensar por un momento acerca de nuestras propias vidas por los últimos 30 años para darnos cuenta que es sencillamente inhumano e inaceptable todo lo que le siguen negando a Oscar al mantenerlo encerrado. Sencillamente, la situación de Oscar es cruel e inhumana y no podemos seguir tolerando este abuso contra él. Si Oscar hubiese aceptado la oferta del presidente Clinton para salir con condiciones de la cárcel ya estaría entre sus familiares y entre su pueblo.  Pero, en ese momento Oscar entendió que no podía aceptar la oferta mientras quedaran otros de sus compañeros en prisión. Pero, hoy ya no cabe duda de que sea tiempo de traer a Oscar de regreso a su casa.
Por eso, quiero hacer un llamado a todo el pueblo generoso y noble de Puerto Rico a que nos unamos, como lo hicimos para lograr la paz para Vieques, como lo hacemos en momentos de tragedia, para hablar con una sola voz y exigir la excarcelación de Oscar López. Es momento de trabajar para lograr que toda la sociedad civil de Puerto Rico, todas las organizaciones cívicas y religiosas, todos los cuerpos de gobierno se expresen claramente a favor de la excarcelación de Oscar.
Sugiero que todos nos comprometamos a comenzar a hablarle acerca de este caso a nuestros amigos, vecinos, familiares y compañeros de trabajo y de organización, en nuestras iglesias, centros de trabajos y donde quiera que compartimos con otros boricuas acerca de la necesidad de actuar para corregir esta injusticia que tanto hiere nuestra sensibilidad de pueblo. Sigo y seguiré comprometido con hacer todo lo que esté a mi alcance para colaborar con los esfuerzos para lograr su libertad. Espero que todos los buenos puertorriqueños lo hagan también.

Muchas gracias.
By Luis Gutierrez

“And in spite of the fact that here the silence from outside is more painful than the solitude inside the cave, the song of a bird or the sound of a cicada always reaches me to awaken my faith and keep me going.”  (Oscar López Rivera)

Oscar López Rivera is turning 69 years old. He was born on Three Kings Day in San Sebastián. On May 29, 2012 he will mark the 31st anniversary of being a political prisoner in United States prison. With the enormous sensibility that characterizes his life, Oscar López Rivera presents us with a unique experience of the meaning and martyrdom of prison for the spirit of a political prisoner: “The dehumanization and pernicious existence that I’ve suffered since I’ve been in prison … is the death and annihilation of the spirit… this gulag was a maze of steel and cement constructed to isolate and incapacitate… We know that sensory deprivation and the denial of creative activity causes the spirit to wither and die. That’s exactly what the jailers are trying to do keeping me here. … In the case of those of us who are prisoners for loving and defending our Homeland, the U.S. government hasn’t the slightest excuse to hold us under such pernicious conditions … I am confident that I’ve chosen to serve a just and noble cause where that security resides. A free, democratic and just Homeland represents a sublime ideal which is worth struggling for. … I’m in this dungeon and the possibilities that I will be released are remote if not impossible, under an existence the same or worse than animals caged in the zoo under physical and spiritual attack but with complete dignity and with my conscience clean and clear. … The memory of our pain is worthy of being appreciated, remembered, and never buried … Even though from afar, all those times when you celebrate together, I enjoy them vicariously.”
(“Between Torture and Resistance,” Luis Nieves Falcón, 2011).
In effect, the prolonged imprisonment of Oscar López Rivera violates the principles and prevailing norms that prohibit inhumane, cruel and degrading treatment. The imposition of disproportionate sentences that result in being locked away for decades violates the most elemental norms of coexistence and civilization.
We must recall that the International Court of Justice has ruled, in the matter of United States diplomatic and consular personnel in Tehran, that “the fact of abusively depriving human beings of their freedom and subjecting them to physically cruel punishment is manifestly incompatible with the principles of the United Nations Charter and with the fundamental rights articulated in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.” (Passed on May 24, 1980, ICJ, Reports, 1980, par. 91).
The fundamental human rights which are absolute and cannot be abolished under any circumstance, including some of those expressed in the Universal Declaration, comprise the essential nucleus of human rights, “… expression … of a universal juridical conviction: rejection of barbarism.”
Time passes very slowly but inexorably witnesses Oscar’s presence as an indictment of colonialism and the brute force of the empire. And it is that those who struggle from the very depths of the spirit cannot go unnoticed.
Oscar’s life is summarized in his unconditional love for this homeland that has led him to sacrifice his life and that of his family in defense of the dignity and sovereignty of his people. He has taken every possible risk, the penalty and pain of prolonged imprisonment, torture, psychological assault, events that have not been able to break his free will.
Thus, today we venerate the patriot and recognize his bravery, temperament, valor, tenacity, clarity of purpose and unconditional love for this historic community. Oscar: spaces of light will open so that you will see and speak to us. We will sow the land of liberty. We will listen together to the sound of the birds and the water. We will paint with you to free the soul.
We will embrace in solidarity the oppressed and the needy. We will share life from the perspective of justice. We will be fierce defenders of the truth. We will never give up the cause our ancestors were committed to. Because we are convinced that your voice, your actions, your silence, your sacrifice and your vital energy maintain the pole from which the flag of the homeland will fly.

By Juan Santiago Nieves (Attorney)

Translated by Jan Susler People’s Law Office

“You can not buy the wind / You can not buy the sun…
You can not buy my joys / You can not buy my sorrows…
The juice of my struggle is not artificial /
For the fertilizer of my land is natural…
You can’t buy my life / My land isn’t for sale…
I’m what my father taught me/
If you do not love your country, you do not love your mother…
I’m Latin America / A people without legs yet walks …”

Under the pouring rain and the sounds of Venezuela’s youth orchestra, the lyrics of Calle 13’s Grammy award winning song “Latinoamerica” were chanted by thousands present for the closing ceremony of the first summit of the Community of Latin American and Caribbean States (CELAC). Held in Caracas, Venezuela on December 2 and 3, the CELAC represents the formation of a new political and economic regional bloc that unites thirty-three countries from across Latin America and the Caribbean, but which does not include the United States and Canada. This song, one of Calle 13’s most recent, has become the international anthem throughout the Spanish-speaking Americas. Not only does it poetically describe experiences of historical injustice, poverty and the ruthless operations carried in Latin America by the United States and its allies, but also it has reinserted Puerto Rico and its colonial situation on the Latin American and international stage.

Prior to CELAC summit, Bolivian President Evo Morales made an acknowledgement of Calle 13, stating that “their songs, their interpretations, represent the people of, not only Bolivia, but of Latin America as well.” Historically, Calle 13 has distinguished itself from other performers by giving voice to the voiceless, just as they did on the last day of the summit. Among the 33 nations invited to CELAC, Puerto Rico’s absence was the most felt. The absence of Puerto Rico is due to the fact that Puerto Rico is a colonial possession of the United States. Since the signing of the “Treaty of Paris” on December 10, 1898, which concluded the so-called Spanish American War, the fate of Puerto Rico and its people have been determined by the U.S. Congress.

Calle 13 is composed of stepbrothers René Pérez, Residente (lead singer), Eduardo Cabra, Visitante (producer), and their sister Ileana aka PG-13 (choirs). The group has created a bridge that connects Puerto Rico to the rest of Latin America. In addition to their ability to incorporate sounds and slang from throughout the Americas, the lyrics of Calle 13 have courageously denounced the contradictions of capitalism, the brutality of colonialism and right to free education. In doing so, they have assumed the mantle of visionary musicians like the likes of Silverio Rodríguez, Bob Marley, Femi Kuti, and the late Facundo Cabral. Through their music, they have reminded their fellow Puerto Ricans about the ills of U.S. colonialism and the importance of independence. For this reason, they have been consistently criticized and attacked by Puerto Rico’s upper middle class and conservative sectors. Through rhymes and beats, Calle 13 has advanced the patriotic work of Puerto Rican revolutionaries, such as Lolita Lebrón, Rafael Cancel Miranda, Juan Mari Bras and Juan Antonio Corretjer.

It is in this spirit that Calle 13 doesn’t forget their ancestors who have given their lives to free Puerto Rico. If we look back at Calle 13’s first political song, “Querido FBI,” it was angry denunciation of Machetero leader Filiberto Ojeda Ríos’ assassination by the FBI in 2005. Ojeda’s death, in fact, marked a major turning point for the group, as they soon after embarked on a journey to better understand the social injustices that have and continue to occur on our continent.

On the last day of the summit, René Perez (Residente) became the most important popular voice that Puerto Rico has thus far in 21st century. Its significant contribution to Puerto Rico is so relevant that it invites the question: Who, in the absence of Calle 13, would popularly connect Puerto Rico to the rest of Latin America? Their presence in Venezuela not only gave voice to all the Puerto Ricans who believe in a sovereign Puerto Rico, but also made the point that the CELAC summit was incomplete without Puerto Rico. This important point was powerfully reiterated during the summit by the Nicaraguan president Daniel Ortega, who noted: “We are thirty-three, but are still missing Puerto Rico; sooner rather than later, Puerto Rico will incorporate itself.”

by Jonathan Rivera Lizardi

For more on CELAC visit: http://www.telesurtv.net/secciones/afondo/especiales/CELAC_2011/ or Facebook/TeleSur

Envision, for a moment, a soundless and barren urban landscape, encroached on by a harrowing, opaque sky and bright, white snow mystically descending from the heavens, with only dim street lights to guide a path. Your awe-struck eyes gaze upon the overwhelming swarm of small, cold particles engulfing the air, swirling with the wind in a synchronized, rhythmic movement, rapidly melting on sun-burnt skin. Finally, your mind collides with the cognizance that this shall be the eternal home of lineages unrealized and that Puerto Rico is a land of no return. What a sorrowful and beautiful genesis to a narrative laid before us; the setting of the stage of an epic and incomparable tale of tragedy and greatness unforeseen.

Such was the experience of thousands of pioneras/os, like my grandmother, who endured a particular migration decades ago; there were many before and many after them. In whatever time we locate the conception of a diaspora that owes its existence to a U.S. government-sponsored colonial enterprise, we must descry the fact that subsequent generations, physically distant from the island, continue to identify as Boricua. Some merely say that one can still be Puerto Rican even if residing outside Puerto Rico, as if the island is lending us magical keys to a locket of authenticity. In many ways, to be Puerto Rican is to be a part of our diaspora. In other words, there is a distinctive Puerto Ricanness in the U.S. and the island is just one (important) piece in a complex and colorful mosaic of cultural ruptures and innovations.

No matter if God decides to rid our little chaotic island
from its uncertain misery
and sends a wave of destruction from the very
waters that brought us our oppressive history
and sinks Borinquen to the water’s floor
our story will be narrated by the jíbaros on the  moon

Unfortunately, our communities are burdened with institutions, artisans, and educators who make it a point to extract the political from the cultural. Puerto Rican cultural consciousness is inextricable from the political. When the dwellers of the island and the diaspora began to understand themselves and their cultural productions as distinctively, unmistakably, and uniquely Boricua, they simultaneously understood, due to a subordinate sociopolitical status, the danger in making such claims. In essence, Puerto Rican culture and identity is a product of resistance. Thus, to be proudly Boricua, is to be solemnly defiant. To affirm a puertorriqueñidad is to thwart the processes that seek our destruction. But, many of our institutions, artisans, and educators present the world with sanitized, nostalgic, and island-centered artistic representations detached from our lived experiences in the U.S. Most, but not all, contemporary art by the Puerto Rican Diaspora is thus without purpose or direction.

Yes, there are many possible routes and trajectories, but one thing must be clear: there needs to be an aesthetic attached to an ongoing process to cultivate a non-assimilationist, diaspora-specific, solution-proposing, and culturally affirming agenda. In order for it to be meaningful, this aesthetic, utilizing photography, painting, literature, poetry, film, theater, sculpture, music, dance, and song, must be by and for our people and rooted in our communities (both historic and new).
If we construct a New Boricua Diaspora aesthetic we can, with greater clarity, understand who we are and map out possible directions. Quite simply and unequivocally, we can begin to recognize and honor our beauty, particularities, and greatness and heal wounds of self-hate and cynicism. This, for what it is worth, is an invitation to dialogue and to create. Who shall heed the call? Whose art will proclaim, “Behold, the Boricua Diaspora, in all its lamentations, in all its glory”?

by Xavier “Xavi” Luis Burgos/Photo by Perla de León in 1977.

“Softly, Puerto Rican, you ain’t alone,
Muchos están contigo and
you’ve got a home….

…Flex your breath of life,
talk about your breeze
and forget you nots.
Write your say
about sidewalks dirty.

Scribble your mean message
on dingy hallway-walls.
Express your aptitude
and limit not its call.”
(From Softly, Puerto Rican, You Ain’t Alone by Piri Thomas)

On October 17, 2011, Piri Thomas, a pioneering cultural champion of the Puerto Rican Diaspora, died at the age of 83. Poet, novelist, and vocal witness to the plight of the underclass, Thomas is considered the father of a Spanglish linguistic tradition and modern Boricua letters. But more importantly, he constructed an incredible legacy on which a modern Latina/o literature was built upon.

As demonstrated in his work, racism was an important fixture in the social development of Thomas’ life. Born in 1928 in El Barrio, New York City to Puerto Rican and Cuban migrants, they gave him an anglicized name, John Peter Thomas, in an effort to assimilate the family. His mother called him “Piri”(the Spanish pronunciation of “Petey”) as a nickname. Growing-up, he battled white ethnic gangs and struggled with his skin color and West African features due to the favored treatment given to his light-skinned siblings from his father. Subsequently, he endured drug addiction, homelessness, and prison.

Much of these experiences were chronicled in his most famous work, Down These Mean Streets, published in 1967, that places front and center discussions of the systematic origins and abuses facing our communities. As a result, his autobiography not only empowered the Boricua diaspora to produce its own unique literature, but validated the new cultural and linguistic expressions that the children of Boricua migrants were developing, like Spanglish. Without a doubt, Thomas was brave to write in a form and style that did not accommodate to the expectations of the white U.S. literary establishment. In other words, he ensured that our stories had to be told from us and in the way that we tell them. Therefore, the Nuyorican Movement and contemporary Latina/o literature are products of Thomas’ tenacity and eloquent ferocity.

I remember still the awe-struck feeling of reading Down These Mean Streets in high school, deeply relating to his testimony of how dark-skinned Boricuas are devalued and the inhumanity of prison. And more importantly, my culture and my context was honored and respected in a world where we are rendered invisible or hopelessly delinquent. For many Boricua and Latina/o youth Piri Thomas contributed to the understanding of our social context and ourselves, stimulating a sense of hope and pride for which we shall be forever indebted.

by Xavier “Xavi” Luis Burgos

You Do Not Want To Miss This Rare Moment in the Latin Jazz Scene
An All-Star Line-Up For The Ages.

This year marks the 3rd Annual Navi-Jazz Concert and will feature the following renowned Puerto Rican Latin jazz artists:

• Edgar Abraham is a saxophonist, composer and master of sixteen instruments. Additionally, he is the creator of the unmatched Hyper-Virtuoso technique for the saxophone.

• Latin Grammy nominee Paoli Mejias is a distinguished master percussionist, ranked among the best in both Latin jazz and salsa. As a bandleader Paoli fuses straight-ahead jazz with African, Mediterranean & Caribbean folkloric rhythms to create a new dimension of Latin jazz that is global, energetic, and modern.

• Antonio Quijano is an electric bassist, composer and theorist. Quijano is author of Secessionist Method of Composition Encyclopedia which discusses the dozens of theories he has developed over the years. Quijano is the composer of more than 150,000 pieces of music and creator of the 2:1 technique for stringed instruments. He has lectured at major universities as an independent cultural researcher, writer, and theorist and is a pioneer in posthuman music and new music theory.

• Endel Dueño, known as the encyclopedia of the “Timbal,” has taken the place of “King of the Timbal” left by the legendary Tito Puente. Master of both the Timbal and Drums, Dueño is undoubtedly one of the most prodigious and talented musicians in the world today.

IPRAC is an art and educational institution devoted to the promotion, integration and advancement of the Puerto Rican culture. IPRAC brings to the community a visual arts and exhibition program that furthers the Puerto Rican arts tradition. IPRAC is in the process of transforming the historic Humboldt Park Stables into a world-class arts and cultural center.

Bienvenido Hormigueros/Video Fiesta Boricua11/Flickr

No es al comienzo de la construcción cuando se valora lo que se va a construir. No es el ímpetu inicial, ni la energía que se pone al principio, ni la idea que se tiene de lo que será lo que da la justa medida, el valor total de lo que se busca lograr. Es el resultado final, al llegar a la meta lo que nos pone ante los ojos y en el corazón el valor de aquello que con tanto trabajo y sacrificio se ha  logrado.
Acaba de terminar la 18na jornada de la Fiesta Boricua de Bandera a Bandera. Los que estamos de afuera no vemos el proceso, solamente el final, el resultado. Podríamos acaso imaginarnos los sinsabores, los conflictos, el arduo trabajo, las dificultades, las prolongadas reuniones, las pocas horas de sueño, las diferencias y desavenencias en cuánto a cómo hacer las cosas y las dificultades para reunir los fondos para sufragar los gastos de unas fiestas que, por lo que se ve, deben costar “un dineral”.  Más allá de eso, de tal vez imaginarnos ese escenario, creo que no podremos llegar nunca a aquilatar el trabajo que conlleva la organización de una fiesta como ésta. Hemos manifestado anteriormente en este espacio la admiración y el respeto que sentimos por esta comunidad del Paseo Boricua y por todos y todas los que componen el Centro Cultural Puertorriqueño Juan Antonio Corretjer, en Chicago. Me reitero en esa afirmación y la pongo en grado superlativo.
Después de la fiesta, después de la 18na Fiesta Boricua de Bandera a Bandera nos sentimos muy agradecidos por un espectáculo maravilloso de afirmación cultural puertorriqueña, de hermandad y solidaridad latinoamericana y de talentos extraordinarios. A propósito de la Fiesta, el alcalde del municipio homenajeado, el pueblo de Hormigueros, el Hon. Pedro J. García Figueroa expresó lo siguiente: “La hospitalidad y el orgullo patrio desplegado por la diáspora puertorriqueña en Chicago, ponen de manifiesto que, salvo algunas diferencias en el idioma, somos todos hermanos boricuas. En Chicago pudimos palpar lo que somos y lo que juntos podemos hacer para la redención de nuestra nación puertorriqueña”. Por otro lado, el director de la Oficina de Arte y Cultura del municipio, el Sr. Félix A. Ponce Labiosa puntualizó: “Esta Fiesta Boricua ha puesto de manifiesto cuán profundas están las raíces de nuestros compatriotas, aunque no estén afincados en el lar nativo. Estas raíces están sembradas en el alma colectiva.” “La muestra de talento artístico que se presentó fue de una variedad y calidad extraordinaria”, fue otro entre muchos comentarios muy positivos de los que fuimos testigos.
Compañeros y compañeras del Centro Cultural Puertorriqueño Juan Antonio Corretjer, ¡Gracias, un millón de gracias! Nos imaginamos que es muy difícil, y por fuentes fidedignas nos enteramos que esta pasada Fiesta Boricua tuvo muchas y grandes dificultades de distinta naturaleza, pero el resultado, como exponemos al principio, es lo que les da la justa medida del valor de sus esfuerzos, aunque los deje extenuados.
Como en todo lo que se hace con el corazón, hay que continuar a pesar de los sacrificios, continuar a pesar del arduo trabajo, continuar a pesar de los infortunios y los sinsabores, continuar a pesar de las presiones económicas, continuar a pesar de los que nos dificultan el trabajo, continuar a pesar de los pesares, a pesar de todo.
Como dejara dicho nuestro Poeta Nacional Juan Antonio Corretjer Montes: “La vida nunca cesa, la vida es lucha toda”. Adelante, adelante siempre. Esperamos verlos y abrazarlos nuevamente el próximo año.

by Carlos Quiles