Feature Photo by Geno Rodriguez

We are from “allá afuera.” As such, we inhabit a nebulous and intangible world in the imagination of those who have not trekked beyond their Caribbean waters (and in even those who have). It is as if, in the insular colonial imagery, we dwell upon the heavens, sitting on top fragile clouds or lurking behind the stars, out of touch with humanity. But celestial beings we are not. Our existence, on Earth, is obscured. We are deemed a throw-away people, cultural pollutants, who were never suppose to return, never to witness the island of our forebearers. “Tú no eres Boricua” can be the most spiteful slander an islander can bestow upon us, not so much because of an innate insecurity, but the acknowledgment of our difference.

“i want to go back to puerto rico,
but i wonder if my kink could live
in ponce, mayagüez and carolina”
(Tato Laviera)

According to the 2010 United States census, there are, for the first time in our history, more Puerto Ricans living in the U.S. than on the island; 4.6 million to 3.7 million to be exact. As time continues, less and less the children of Borinquen reside on our tragic Eden, despite the conviction that it remains our communal ‘home.’ The question why is important, but what characterizes our exiled existence as a hint to new collective directions is even more intriguing.
As stated by Boricua theorist Juan Flores, the root definition of Diaspora means a “scattering or of sowing seeds (-sperien) across space (dia-)”, a suitable metaphor for the construction of Puerto Rican enclaves; from a minute bud to a growing vine germinating nuances in identity and community-building. For Flores, a Diaspora is not just about people moving to a new place, but the unraveling of a consciousness about the place they are in and the place they left. In the aftermath of the first Great Migration of the late 1940s to early 1960s, we forged emblems of our “inherited cultural backgrounds” in institutions, cultural festivities, literature, music, and political organizations, but with a palette of distinct “ruptures and innovations” detailing, exalting, and even lamenting our cultural aberration from those on the island. Like that of nations, our community is imagined, because although we could never know all the members of such a disparate Diaspora, it is a communion in which our connection is internally recognized and a camaraderie eternally yearned for.
With controversial origins and often critiqued markers like ‘Chi-Rican’ or ‘Nuyorican’, we are united by a reference point and a new location, but of also disturbing social ills. As an au courant exodus out of our island unfolds before our tired eyes, we continue to face high levels of poverty and low levels of formal education, exacerbated by the destruction and displacement of our historic centers and a psyche of inferiority. Moreover, the cultural and political institutions we have created throughout the decades are decaying because there are those among us who submit to the pressure to homogenize our experiences and unique historical memories under a “latino umbrella” and thus render any affirmed puertorriqueñidad as taboo and separatist. And even worse, those of us who obtain any sort of money or education, leave our life-centers, detach and disassociate themselves from ‘those in the ghetto’ and produce offspring with a sort of Du Boisian triple-consciousness – never accepted by a racist world and never truly accepted by one’s own people on both sides of the Atlantic. We are here, but less cohesive and pronounced, persistently misrepresented and misunderstood by the islander, the greater U.S. society, and by some in our flock.
The leaking faucet of our tropical kin continues to flow and detrimental social forces endure in a masquerade around our unmarked tombstones. We are at the crossroads of possibilities stretching from a path of great historical and contemporary resilient feats, but jointly, across the cities and towns of our presence, something is lacking, the earth-shattering urgency remains nonexistent. With the effort of producing and amplifying safe spaces of in-depth dialogue on such socio-political conundrums and subsequently courses of direct action, can we approach the horizon with a profoundly inspiring, renewed, and reinvigorated vision for our people in the Diaspora. But the challenge has so few recruits while any semblance of our existence continues to erode. We are full of possibilities, but in a deep slumber we continue to lay.

Next Part: The New Boricua: A Renewed Vision

References:
1. Laviera, Tato. (1992). my graduation speech. la carreta made a u-turn (pp. 17). Houston: Arte Público Press.
2. United States Census Bureau. (May 26, 2011). 2010 Census Shows Nation’s Hispanic Population Grew Four Times Faster Than Total U.S. Population. Retrieved from http://2010.census.gov/news/releases/operations/cb11-cn146.html
3. Flores, Juan. (2009). The Diaspora Strikes Back: Caribeño Tales of Learning and Turning (pp. 16-17). New York: Taylor & Francis Group.
5. Anderson, Benedict (2006). Imagined Communities. New York: Verso.
6. Du Bois. W.E.B. (1903). Of Our Spiritual Strivings. In The Souls of Black Folk. The Health Anthology of American Literature: Volume D Modern Period 1910-1945 (pp. 897-902). Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company.

by Xavier Burgos

La portavoz del Cuerpo de Ingenieros del Ejército de Estados Unidos en Jacksonville, Florida, Nancy Sticht, reveló al periódico regional La Perla del Sur que el permiso final para la construcción del Gasoducto del Norte podría retrasarse, lo que podría extenderse al año 2012.
De acuerdo con la información, al Cuerpo de Ingenieros le tomará un mes más completar la “Evaluación Ambiental Preliminar” del proyecto llamado la “Vía Verde”. Según la funcionaria, el análisis podría estar listo para el mes de noviembre. Y si es completada la evaluación preliminar para ese mes, tendrían luego que discutir los hallazgos entre las partes interesadas como la ciudadanía. Por lo tanto, los procesos durarían otros 30 días y no se conoce si será por consulta directa con las personas.
“Sabemos que las comunidades pueden tener información que quizás nosotros no tengamos, así que es importante conseguir los comentarios de ellos”, según Sticht declaró a La Perla del Sur. Luego de esos 30 días, el Cuerpo de Ingenieros decidirá si emite una Evaluación Ambiental Final o pone en marcha otro estudio aún más riguroso, la Declaración de Impacto Ambiental Federal (DIAF). Este proceso, entre evaluaciones de datos y recomendaciones, se alargaría hasta el mes de diciembre.
Sticht le reconoció al semanario La Perla del Sur que el espacio de tiempo está “apretado” para emitir una decisión final antes de que concluya el año. “El equipo que está evaluando esto está enfocado en hacer un buen trabajo, mirando toda la información y consultando con las agencias pertinentes. Y cuando se trata de un proyecto complejo como éste, eso toma tiempo”, recalcó la funcionaria federal. “Ellos no están enfocados en cumplir con un ‘deadline’”, agregó según La Perla.
Para el portavoz de Casa Pueblo, Arturo Massol Deyá, el atraso en el informe que se había rumorado saldría a la luz el 30 de septiembre, es un cambio de postura por parte del Cuerpo de Ingenieros producto de la desobediencia civil realizada por él y otros activistas frente a la Casa Blanca, así como de la gestión del congresista de origen puertorriqueño Luis Gutiérrez. Para Massol Deyá, es la victoria de otra batalla.
“Hemos ganado otra batalla, pero el país debe estar alerta, porque el aviso de huracán aún está vigente”, continuó el líder comunitario. “Exhortamos al Gobierno a retirar la propuesta del Gasoducto y a concentrar sus recursos limitados en opciones reales que beneficien a los 1.5 millones de abonados de la Autoridad de Energía Eléctrica”.
Diferentes entidades se han expresado en contra del proyecto como Casa Pueblo, Sierra Club, la National Congress of Puerto Rican Rights, The Labor Council for Latin-American Advancement, Lafayette Presbyterian Church, Union Theological Seminary, Greenpeace, Earth Justice, Green Party, East Harlem Preservation, El Puente, LatinoSports, la VirtualBoricua.com, la Trinity Lutheran Church de Brooklyn y grupos sociales a través de la red social Facebook y Twitter.

Trying to keep up with the responsibilities of school and family is a formidable task, especially when you are a teenager. This sort of balancing act is an all too familiar routine for young mothers and parents attending the Lolita Lebrón Family Learning Center (FLC), an educational program addressing the needs of adolescent parents in Humboldt Park. The program has been in existence since 1993, when it served women aged 14-45 with children seven years of age or younger. In its current form, the program offers high school coursework, parenting workshops, on-site childcare, and parent-child activities to young parents, mostly mothers.
Over the past 18 years, many mothers have crossed the FLC’s threshold, with hopes of achieving their high school diploma and improving their life circumstances, not just for themselves, but for the future of their children. Hundreds of women have graduated from the FLC and have gone on to be successful in a variety of professions, including education, social work, and healthcare; many have also transformed their personal lives and made significant changes, such as leaving abusive relationships and becoming more independent.
One such graduate is Maria Lopez, who graduated from the FLC in 1995. More than 15 years later, she was invited to return to the FLC and share her experiences with current students. Now 50 years old, she gave birth to her first child when she was 19. She enrolled in the FLC when she was 35 and had her fourth child.  She stated that her favorite aspect of being involved in the FLC was  “learning [about my] culture” and what “lots of Puerto Ricans go through, especially Pedro Albizu Campos “(who is also the namesake of the high school affiliated with the FLC). She described herself as “not hav[ing] that knowledge” before she attended the FLC.  In the years since completing the program, she has enrolled in college and served as a drug/addiction counselor for 10 years.
On Friday September 23rd, Maria shared with young women at the FLC how she changed her life by enrolling in the program. She exuded warmth and energy as she encouraged young women to reach their goals. This presentation was the inaugural session in a mentorship series, the brainchild of Danette Sokacich, the current director of the FLC and Laura Ruth Johnson, the first director of the program. Afterward, when asked what she hoped the young mothers would take away from her session, Maria responded: “just finish what we’ve started … even though there were obstacles in our way.”
If you are a graduate of the FLC and are interested in sharing your experiences with current students, please contact Danette Sokacich at 312.532.4684 or email danettes@pedroalbizucamposhs.org.

On Wednesday, September 14th, the University of Illinois at Chicago’s (UIC) Rafael Cintrón Latino Cultural Center (LCC) celebrated its 35th Anniversary. Rosa Cabrera, (new) Director of the LCC, organized the daylong program to commemorate the struggle to preserve this cultural and political space within UIC, as well as celebrate the longevity of its legacy 35 years later. The center was filled with multiple generations of students, activist, university faculty and community members invested in the establishment and development of this historic space.
Part of the daylong program included seven panelists representing the 70’s, 80’s, 90’s and 2000’s, all of who worked to establish and advance the LCC. The panelists included two of the LCC founders, José López, Director of the Puerto Rican Cultural Center, and Leonard Ramírez, former Director of the Latin American Recruitment and Educational Services (LARES) Program at UIC. Each spoke of how the LCC came through student activists who took-over University Hall in 1973 in protest to claim a space for Latin@s on campus. From their struggle, came the LCC, Latin American/Latin@s Studies Program, as well as the LARES Program. These initiatives opened the doors for more Latin@ students to have an opportunity for higher education at UIC. Hence, the 5 other panelists; Sara Agate, Claudio Gaete, Sofia Mohammad Castañeda, Jackie Rodríguez, and Willie Rodríguez, that represented each decade thereafter. Each panelist spoke of the different efforts used to promote, preserve, and continue the work of the LCC at UIC, as well as in the Latin@ communities throughout Chicago.
As the facilitator of the panel, as well as a former student leader of the Union for Puerto Rican Students at UIC, to me their stories represented a wide array of socio-historical-political junctures that Latin@s have not simply survived but thrived with historical and cultural pride.

by Judy Diaz

As a kid growing up in the deep campo of Vega Baja bordering Morovis, I read   in marvel Ricardo Alegría’s newspaper articles on the Tainos and other tidbits of Puerto Rican culture. Long before telephone lines ever got to the isolated campo, waiting for these articles become something to do, as I fantasized that one day I would become an anthropologist. This was way before I would interview Professor Ricardo Alegría at the Centro de Estudios Puertorriqueños for my doctoral thesis. That thesis would become Sponsored Identities: Cultural Politics in Puerto Rico (1997), a critical exposé of the Institute of Puerto Rican Culture and the official cultural policy Alegría helped found. A product of the times, my book was informed by a renewed criticism on the cultural essentialisms that limited an assessment of more popular expressions of Puerto Ricaness, including the Puerto Rican diaspora’s Nuyorican culture, which was quickly becoming my own.

As we mourn the loss of this titan of Puerto Rican anthropology, it is worth recalling the historical conditions of the ‘50s and ‘60s and early 1970s that made Alegría’s work so powerful and necessary and him such an influence on generations of scholars, students, artists and activists. See, way before it was fashionable to openly love Puerto Rican culture in Puerto Rico, and politically acceptable to waive flags and even to play folk instruments and music, the island was enveloped in an aggressive U.S. assimilationist policy intended to Americanize Puerto Ricans, rip them of their language and of any pride or knowledge of their history and culture.

To be openly proud of being Puerto Rican was to be an “independentista” or “nacionalista” and to be ostracized and run the risk of not getting government jobs and contracts. My interviews with cultural activists associated with the Institute of Puerto Rican Culture showed that many of them had been victims of political profiling simply on account of their cultural work. One showed me his carpeta (FBI file) that described his “subversive” activities: playing Puerto Rican folk music at church. That he played the “cuatro,” a four-string guitar now recognized as a beloved national instrument, was noted as evidence. This is the obscure political context to which Alegría’s work became such a powerful rejoinder.

Working with the first locally elected governor of Puerto Rico, Luis Muñoz Marin, Alegría helped found the Institute of Puerto Rican Culture (ICP) in 1956, which he led for over eighteen years. From there he helped launch a revival of all things Puerto Rican through festivals, activities, museums and cultural centers celebrating Puerto Rican culture, especially the island’s Jibaro (peasant) culture and the Taino.

It would take decades before the ICP would fully venture into the island’s African legacy, though it featured in the renewed ICP appreciation for Bomba y Plena music and the Festivities of Loiza Aldea. Since, scholars have rightfully noted that Alegría’s cultural nationalist project was also part of a larger cooptation of nationalism that neutralized its most radical components, placing it at the service of the colonial commonwealth government. Others, myself included, exposed the essentialist views of Puerto Rican culture that became “officialized” through the many preservation and cultural projects promoted, and the elitism bred when some aspects and representations of Puerto Rican culture are considered more ‘authentic’ than others. But these critiques stand on ground that was paved through hard won struggles that need to be also be appreciated, especially in their greatest achievement: the generalized appreciation and popularization of Puerto Rican culture, a culture that had long been shamed and purposefully persecuted on the island

Today, this key achievement deserves to be remembered and cherished along with the lessons from Alegría’s life-long mission. We especially benefit from remembering the legacy of Ricardo Alegría as Puerto Rico continues to be enveloped in a neoliberal Pro-Statehood administration that consistently refers to Puerto Ricans as “Americans,” dislodging the progress Puerto Ricans have made in overcoming our shamed colonial past. His memory should make us recall how hard we had to fight for the right to be recognized as Puerto Rican irrespective of background and political persuasion, and whether we’re born on the island or not. In his memory, I hope we continue to be defiantly Puerto Rican, lovingly, openly and proudly.

Arlene Dávila, Ph.D. is a Professor of Anthropo- logy and American Studies at New York University. She is a cultural anthropologist interested in urban and ethnic studies, the political economy of culture and media and consumption studies. Her work focuses on Puerto Ricans in the eastern U.S., and Latinos nationwide. She is especially interested the politics of culture and representation as they play out in a variety of institutional settings as varied as museums and contemporary culture industries. Professor Dávila teaches courses on comparative ethnic studies, race and nation in the Americas, Latino/a popular culture, global ethnography and consumption studies. She is author of Sponsored Identities: Cultural Politics in Puerto Rico (Temple University), Latino Spin: Public Image and the Whitewashing of Race (NYU Press), Latinos Inc: Marketing and the Making of a People (University of California Press), and Barrio Dreams: Puerto Ricans, Latinos and the Neoliberal City (University of California Press). Her new book, Culture Works: Space, Value and Mobility across the Neoliberal Americas, is forthcoming from NYU Press next spring. She can be reached at ad62@nyu.edu

Prominent Attorney Carmen Lonstein, a Senior Partner at Baker & McKenzie LLP and Board Member of IPRAC, welcomed Governor Pat Quinn to the Institute of Puerto Rican Arts & Culture on August 20th for the signing of SB630. During her remarks she acknowledged the commitment of Governor Quinn to make IPRAC a Museum In The Park.
Key legislators in the passing of SB630 were Rep. Cynthia Soto and State Senator Iris Martínez. The bill seeks to address the issue of arbitrary school closings by CPS without any community engagement. The following provisions are some of the highlights of the bill:
•School Actions have to be announced by CPS every year by December 1st – before the application deadline for selective enrollment schools.
•CPS must issue a written announcement explaining its reasons for wanting to take a school action.
•Hearings will be run by Independent Hearings Officers and can’t be held until 30 days after the CPS announcement of the proposed School Actions.
•CPS must have School Transition Plans to support and aid students and schools impacted if and when School Actions are approved by the CPS Board.
Among the many prominent leaders in attendance from various community organizations were Block Togethers, Chicago Coalition for the Homeless, Design for Change and the Grand Boulevard Federation, José Sánchez, CEO of Norwegian, Rev. Freddy Santiago, Rebaño Church and Rev. Wilfredo de Jesús, New Life Convenent, as well as State Rep. Luis Arroyo.

On April 8, 2011 an expanded Institute of Puerto Rican Arts and Culture (IPRAC) celebrated the opening of its new exhibition, “Lo Que Trajo el Barco,” by three, young Puerto Rican artists from three distinct locations but with intersecting narratives. The exhibition, which will be open to the public until June 2011, also served as a tribute to the living master of Puerto Rican art, Antonio Martorell, whose much-anticipated exhibit is scheduled to follow.

The artists, Miguel Luciano, Josué Pellot, and Ramón Miranda, live in places of great distance from one another: New York City, Chicago, and Puerto Rico, respectively. However, what they share in their art is a deep desire to grapple with and understand the Puerto Rican context. For these masters of their craft, Puerto Rico and its multiple socio-cultural and political productions serve as a reference point from which to begin the ever-important dialogue of our identity, but the discourse continues beyond the waters of the Caribbean. The question of who and what we are as a distinct, but disparate people, extend to and incorporate those very places in which we have settled and created community.

For a case in point, one of the pieces on display, “Machetero Air Force Ones/ Filiberto Ojeda Uptowns” by Miguel Luciano, may seem to be just another pair of fresh, white Nike shoes with spray-painted Puerto Rican flags – a common feature in the ghettos of the U.S. However, the colorful images of an assassinated pro-independence leader that stirred an uproar on the island and in the U.S. provide a compelling commentary on issues of materialism, cultural authenticity, the mass production of art and propaganda, collective memory, the synchronization of culture, and puertorriqueñidad in the Diaspora. It is no coincidence that the title of the exhibition is called “Lo Que Trajo el Barco” – “What was brought by the boat,” taken from a song by “El sonero mayor” Ismael Rivera. Migration not only moved half our people across the ocean, but also challenged our very definition of what it means to be Puerto Rican.

To gain a better understanding of the exhibition, his art, and to explore the themes of identity and history in Puerto Rican art, we interviewed the humble and profound Miguel
Luciano, whose renowned work has been showcased in galleries and museums around the world. From Paris to Moscow, Brooklyn to Slovenia and even on cover of the scholarly Reggaetón: An Anthology, Luciano’s pieces are providing new insights and a playful rendition of our national character.

Where were you born and raised? Where did you study? Why did you decide to become an artist?

I was born in San Juan, Puerto Rico and grew up in the United States from Seattle to Miami and I now live in New York City. I was always interested and had a passion for art and drawing ever since I was a kid. I was also interested in social justice and activism and I knew I could combine these things and make work that could contribute to social change; looking at artwork as a vehicle for social change.

In your presentation at the opening of your collaborative exhibition at IPRAC, you spoke about playing on the readings of Puerto Rican and Caribbean cultural signifiers and layering new mythologies. How do you decide which cultural signifiers are significant enough to present in your work? What is your purpose in using Puerto Rican cultural symbols?

I look at our visual history and how it is taught usually, and I look at the cultural signifiers that are often used to represent Puerto Rican culture and identity. I use these histories and cultural symbols in order to challenge and flip them and do the same to how we see ourselves [as Puerto Ricans].

Also, to re-inscribe them with new meaning and change essentialist ideas, with an attempt to see how we self-identity and how we were identified throughout history.

Why did you choose to present those three particular pieces of your work at IPRAC?

It started with a dialogue with the other artists [Josue Pellot and Ramón Miranda Beltrán] in order to see how our work could relate to each other and to find a common theme. The pieces at IPRAC, I’ve wanted to share with the Chicago audience, especially the Pure Plantanium Pendant and the Machetero  Air Force Ones. I wanted to show them for a while in Humboldt Park, since there is a vibrant youth presence in the community and I thought it would resonate in that context. For the Cosmic Taíno piece, it includes a figure of a Bohique, who was a spiritual sage in the indigenous community. This character is often used in children’s books in Puerto Rico and I use it to play with it and to talk about illumination and consciousness in a spiritual way. It also serves as a good contrast to Josue Pellot’s neon lights, which represents conquest and death, while my piece represents spirituality and life. Also, the title of the exhibit, “Lo Que Trajo el Barco,” speaks to a theme of colonialism.

Do you consider yourself a Puerto Rican artist or an artist that is Puerto Rican? What is the difference, if there is any?

I’m really not too concerned with that. I am Puerto Rican and an artist. My work has engaged Puerto Rican culture, history, and identity. The work also speaks to Latinos in general, but comes from the reference point that is Puerto Rican and that is where I’m from. And, I know who my
audience is and I don’t think of it as limiting. I don’t only show my artwork in the Puerto Rican community, but I’m very proud to show it in the community and that is a
priority for me. It is inspired by community and it makes sense to present it to the community. IPRAC, for example, doesn’t become an exclusive space that excludes the audience that I’m trying to get at, it provides a dialogue with a community.

Any special message you’d like to give to our readers and the Puerto Rican community in Chicago?

Go see the show and it is an honor to show my work in Chicago and in Humboldt Park.

For More Info go to: www.iprac.org

Several years ago, on the historic day of March 10, 2006, hundreds of thousands of students and families took to the streets in protest against Sensenbrenner bill H.R. 4437. This  repressive bill, which was successfully defeated thanks to such protests, sought to  criminalize undocumented immigration and make felons out of any individual or organization convicted of assisting undocumented immigrants.

Since then, Latino and immigrant rights activists have continued to demand comprehensive immigration reform and an end to raids, deportations, and attacks on immigrant communities. This first mega march took place here in Chicago, and spread throughout the country, sparking some of the largest protests in U.S. history. Though Chicago was, and continues to be, central to the national immigration debate, there is a tendency to ignore or forget the city’s contribution.

Fortunately, a recent book documents and analyzes Chicago’s special place in the immigrant rights movement. Edited by UIC professors, political scientist Amalia Pallares and sociologist Nilda Flores-González, ¡Marcha! Latino Chicago and the Immigrant Rights Movement explores the organizations, leaders, politics and identities that gave rise to the megamarches and to the broader politics of Latino and immigrant rights.

On March 31, Batey Urbano and the Puerto Rican Cultural Center (PRCC) hosted a community discussion of ¡Marcha!. Presenters included Flores-González, Pallares, Michael Rodríguez Muñiz, a contributor of a chapter on Puerto Rican participation in the immigrant rights movement, and Jhonathan Gomez, a member of a collective of photographers. Since its release, the book and photography exhibit has traveled to community spaces throughout the city,
stimulating reflection and brainstorming for the future. Given the PRCC’s longstanding involvement in the movement and the fact that two immigrant rights activists took sanctuary on Paseo Boricua, organizers felt an event in Humboldt Park was quite important.

Before a crowd of over 60 people, the presenters and audience engaged in discussion of the immigrant rights movement and prospects for progressive change in the future. It represents a great example of scholarship combining with political activism to carve out new possibilities.

¡Marcha! is published by and
available from the University of
Illinois Press.

On March 30, 2011, Norwegian American Hospital and the Greater Humboldt Park Community of Wellness, along with several other local Humboldt Park community organizations, took a bus load of 40 supporters to Springfield. The trip to the capital was an advocacy day to encourage the state’s General Assembly to reject Governor Pat Quinn’s proposed $552 million cut in Medicaid reimbursement to hospitals, nursing homes and other providers.

Supporters went around to their local representatives and asked them to consider the long-lasting negative effects of imposing Medicaid rate cuts to hospitals and the health care system, and how Norwegian American could be faced with $3.41 million in cuts per year.

Organizations that were present included: Block-by-Block: The Greater Humboldt Park Community Campaign Against Diabetes, Healthcare Alternative Systems Inc., Puerto Rican Cultural Center and Vida/SIDA.
“The advocacy day in Springfield was a huge success, and I think some very good momentum has been made, but work still needs to be done,” said Norwegian American Hospital President and Chief Executive Officer José R. Sánchez. “The proposed cut to Medicaid reimbursements would have a devastating impact on Norwegian American Hospital and, ultimately, negatively impact the already dire health status of the communities we serve.”

Norwegian American has been serving the needs of the community for over 115 years. Today, the community is home to many residents who are uninsured or underinsured, and have been found by public health researchers to have higher rates of asthma, diabetes, obesity and HIV/AIDS when compared to city and national rates. As a result, Norwegian American Hospital provides a large share of uncompensated care.

Hospitals are vital components of communities, providing essential services, including stability, care and employment to residents. All Illinois residents should be able to confidently rely on local hospitals at all times to meet their needs.