After the hurricane, let us all be Puerto Ricans

My two older brothers, Miguel and José, and I were born in Puerto Rico. We moved to North Carolina in the early 1980s, a difficult plane ride for 4-year-old me. We were moving too far from my grandparents. And Miguel told me that if I did not remain still and quiet, a flight attendant would put a lifejacket on me and throw me out the window. Growing up though, my brothers and I were always there for each other. Our other friends understood that we were kind of a package deal. Our parents inculcated being there for each other. We learned it. In much the same way, we can all learn to be there for each other. I focus on Puerto Rico here, but we should be there for the U.S. Virgin Islands and for anyone marginalized, disenfranchised, and reduced to stereotypes.

Puerto Ricans have served and sacrificed alongside other Americans in every conflict since World War I. The Puerto Rican regiment earned over 2,700 Purple Hearts during the Korean War alone. Puerto Rican contributions have enhanced all branches of science, the humanities and government. And Puerto Ricans have been there like family for the mainland and other countries, following natural disasters.

Roberto Clemente, one of the most beloved Puerto Ricans in our island’s history, was 38 when he died in a plane crash in 1972. He was taking food, medical supplies and other necessities to earthquake victims in Nicaragua. Perhaps together we can honor his memory by taking carefully planned action now.

Rebuilding the island’s infrastructure will require creativity, expertise and transparency. Efforts toward improved harnessing of natural energy should consider how to prevent future storms from interfering with energy systems’ functioning. Solar panels and windmills could be designed so that with a 24-hour advance notice they could be disassembled and afterward reassembled within the same time frame. This should include the logistics of storing all materials within a well-constructed, safe warehouse, and of training residents to disassemble and reassemble all equipment.

Collaboration between residents and a range of experts on the island (see San Juan ULTRA) and the mainland presents an exciting opportunity for members of communities to acquire knowledge and skills for self-sustainability. Successful partnerships could serve as models for other parts of the United States.

Schools throughout the island could also become part of the collaborative effort, through both arts and sciences, such that students, teachers and parents learn to foster clean energy and waste reduction through authentic interactions with experts from a range of fields.

Additionally, colleges, trade schools and universities here could join those on the island in the rebuilding and cleaning efforts. Semesters of study could combine the arts and sciences in mutually beneficial ways.

I will close with something I wrote in a letter sent to various to people in early October. CNN correspondent Leyla Santiago shared a strikingly similar memory about her own grandfather and the song I describe below in an article that she wrote later that same month. She was not one of my letter recipients. This coincidence suggests a strongly shared sentiment among Puerto Ricans. And not just those of us who were born there or whose family was from the island. The identifier Puerto Rican includes people who had no initial connection to the island. They moved there for whatever reason, decided to stay, and became Puerto Rican.

Puerto Rico has a hold on even those of us who moved to the mainland at a young age. When we go back to visit our relatives and friends, we are surrounded by warmth, soul-satisfying food, and music and laughter that blend together with the rhythm of our language. One night, driving through the lit streets of Old San Juan, my late grandfather (a WWII U.S. Army captain), already succumbing to dementia, began to sing “En mi Viejo San Juan.” My grandmother and parents joined in. The song expresses the longing that the singer has for the island after having left it and grown old away from Puerto Rico. The singer longs to return to Old San Juan before dying, to dream there by the sea. I was and remain haunted by the words of the song and the feeling in my family’s voices as they sang. I was home. And at the same time, Durham was (and remains) also home. Hopefully, more people will come to appreciate the sentiment of this song as they spend time in Puerto Rico and participate in its rebuilding.

This story was originally published November 18, 2017 at 10:30 AM with the headline "After the hurricane, let us all be Puerto Ricans."