My parents both arrived in New York City after World War II, at different times but for the same reason the search for work. They left a country they loved, but where they could not make a living. About half a million Puerto Ricans made the same journey fleeing economic despair, the result of the US colonization of the island. Government officials blamed the people for the disastrous economic situation claiming that the problem was "overpopulation." They promoted the mass exodus of Puerto Ricans and implemented policies that sterilized thousands of poor and working women. The Young Lords are the sons and daughters of this Great Migration. As young people growing up in the United States, we witnessed how our parents were exploited, degraded, and humiliated. We felt their suffering, and we too had experiences with poverty and racism. All of this propelled us into action to fight for justice.

That last migration in 1947 spawned a generation who had one foot in the United States, and maybe they had dreams of Puerto Rico, but the reality of their existence was here.

being Puerto Rican is more than speaking and writing a language, and more than a language. It is a culture and a way of thinking; an environment; customs; food; a very complex context.

she came from Puerto Rico, where they also have, you know, this English language supremacy, like, decades of U.S. colonial policies that cast English as a superior language. You know, this was a school where a majority of the kids were Mexican American or children of immigrants. And they, you know, the mostly white teachers, they wanted us to learn English as quickly as possible. So the parents at the time thought that this was a good thing, that it would result in us, you know, being bilingual and knowing English faster. But what happened is, like, this ended up in many cases supplanting our native language.

The island of Puerto Rico is a small but complicated place. It's the only place in the world, I think, where you have a Latin American culture and you're an American citizen. I wrote a paper published by the University of Oklahoma's Department of Psychology about Puerto Ricans being like adopted citizens. I describe myself as an adopted citizen, much like a child who has been adopted by a family. He or she doesn't look like that family and longs to know who his or her parents really are. I was taught in the schools that Americans adopted Puerto Rico, it is not a real country. So, am I supposed to be forever grateful because someone adopted us and took us in? The Spaniards first, and then the United States? How does a child, then, form an identity?

I came from an Afro-Puerto Rican middle class family that was hard-working and very proud of its heritage and personal accomplishments. So the images of Puerto Rican gangsters, loose women and heroin addicts that were paraded in the media had nothing to do with my reality. Some of our people did lead those lives, but they weren't the majority in my community. The negative images that were ascribed to us all incensed the adults in my life who were too busy providing for their families to raise a potent political voice. As I grew older, I realized that the stereotypes were not just offensive but dangerous as well. Regardless of my experience, those images persisted, shaping the cultural perceptions of my community. I still meet people who can't believe I'm Puerto Rican because I speak English so well or, as I was told lately, insist that I couldn't possibly be Puerto Rican because Puerto Ricans are white. Those stereotypes and racist caricatures are out there still. It's my job to keep creating new and authentic images for our community.

Not only are Puerto Ricans citizens by birth, but one would be hard-pressed to find a Puerto Rican without a sister in New York or a son in Chicago, a cousin in Orlando or a daughter in Honolulu or Oklahoma City.

In the Lower East Side, the Puerto Ricans had already been ‘project-ed.’ The people were used to living in the projects. They worked on ships on South Street or in hotels. There were a lot of people collecting records, so music became a really important connection between New York City and Puerto Rico. We spoke English in the street and Spanish at home. A lot of music from Puerto Rico was played in the streets and in people’s homes. We listened to Bomba, Plena, pop music and Salsa.

A Puerto Rican writer from New York is doubly dislocated: first, there is dislocation from Puerto Rico; secondly, there is Puerto Rico’s dislocation from itself. Puerto Rico is a colony of the United States. It may be a truism that you can’t go home again, but it’s especially true when home is an occupied territory. A Puerto Rican writer from New York, like myself, is twice alienated. I never forget that in this country I belong to a marginalized, silenced, even despised community; yet, in Puerto Rico, as a “Nuyorican” poet, I am marginalized again, for reasons related and unrelated to the island’s colonial status…

It was from these friendships and the multiple fronts of activism of what we now call the Puerto Rican Movement that I was able to solidify my own emerging research and teaching interests in the process of unveiling new decolonial knowledge about women and the Puerto Rican diaspora. The social and political movements that bourgeoned within the stateside Puerto Rican communities in the late 1960s and 1970s allowed many island Puerto Ricans who migrated to New York during those years to reach a better understanding of the conditions, hardships, and survival and liberation struggles afflicting the hundreds of thousands migrants who had settled in the city during the previous decades. In the frontlines of these struggles were the Young Lords Organization (later transformed into the Young Lords Party and the Puerto Rican Revolutionary Workers Organization), the Puerto Rican Student Union (PRSU), El Comité, and Resistencia Puertorriqueña, to name a few. Although their primary sphere of action was New York City, their fighting spirit and claims for social justice rapidly spread to other US cities with large concentrations of Puerto Ricans. These groups carried the banners of struggle and resistance on behalf of impoverished and disenfranchised stateside communities where Puerto Rican migrants had settled and for the liberation of Puerto Rico.

Puerto Ricans...castrate their children. As a reality check. Because they know the colonial systems will not allow their children to achieve all the things that they want in life. I saw that in my childhood. I saw this impotence that was imposed on me since my childhood. But I said, “I’m going to build an empire of uselessness. I’m going to take from the Americans the ingenuity, and I’m going to take from the Spaniards the wisdom.” And that’s what I do. I mix wisdom and ingenuity.

Puerto Ricans don't like to talk about racism or admit that it exists among Puerto Ricans. Boricuas talk of an island free from racism, or they say that the amerikkkans brought it. Although the amerikkkans did make it worse, racism in Puerto Rico began with the Spanish. According to them, one drop of white blood meant you were white and better than your Black compatriot. Acceptance was given according to the "degree of whiteness."

Puerto Rico is Spanish American in its past, Anglo-Saxon in its present, and, I trust, in the deepest sense Pan-American in its future

Being a daughter of very strong Afro-Puerto Rican rural women, I could never understand the stereotype of the submissive, defeated woman who had no options and no power. I was surrounded by monumentally powerful and talented women who never got a chance to showcase their potential outside their homes and their communities. I got a good taste of it as a child in my South Bronx community. When I was sent to Puerto Rico during my formative years, ties to the past were solidified and I had a better understanding of where I came from and what gifts had been bequeathed to me. Those women who came before me didn't have the option of sharing their stories in public, but thanks to their sacrifices, I could, and I do share the stories with a much broader audience. Writing gave me a vehicle for bringing readers into the world I grew up in.