ever since @diasporapapi on IG asked what we would do the day puerto rico became free, I haven’t stopped thinking about it. because I have never thought about it before. I don’t think it ever felt that possible in my body, possible enough to imagine what I would do that day, like I'm thinking about what I’m going to do for my birthday next month.
what is it like for freedom to not feel so far away?
I thought maybe I’d collapse on the sidewalk sobbing, wailing in waves. I saw all the boricuas who live here in this tiny, white city coming out of our high rent homes, where we spend a lot of time hiding. it wouldn’t be surprising if a parade erupted.
but then I remember that this may not even be something they want. then I remember that they might even think it a foolish thing, for our people to be self-governing. anti-imperialism has been so dangerous for boriken, remains so dangerous. so colonialism has it’s claws deeply puncturing into our souls. god forbid we would want anything that wasn’t permitted to be given to us.
I know there are so many of us ripping these claws out, fighting for this freedom to feel possible. I believe in us, I do. and, knowing that there are more of us who don’t even consider this a worthwhile dream fortifies me in centering my work in spiritual decolonization.
so the day that puerto rico becomes free, I will be sobbing on the sidewalk, surrounded by the most beautiful party none of us have ever been to. I will dance bomba in the streets with boricuas who remember we never wanted to be godfearing to whiteness. we will seduce the most terrified of us with our certainty, with our elated Afro-Indigenous sovereignty.
until that day, I will take moments to practice the part of my body beginning to believe this dream could come true. one tear at a time, these claws will detract from inside of me. one wild laugh at a time, these claws will detract from me. one glorious moment at a time I will imagine, feeding the timeline in which this has already happened until it’s strong enough to emerge in this one.
and may it be so for African and Indigenous people everywhere.
-September 26, 2020 | morning writing practice
dedicated to Jezabeth Roca Gonzalez, Adela Nieves Martinez, Melissa La Sirena, Angelique Amy Rivera, Cassandra Lopez Fradera, Jackie Torres, Stella Caban, Yasmin Hernandez, & Zarah Soria.