¡Despierta Boricua!

Today is the Puerto Rican Day Parade. Contrary to what you may (or may not) have heard, the parade isn’t a rape fest, or an organized crime spree. The following was posted by a Boricua* for the NY Post several years ago and it features the many highlights of what is still one of the largest (if not the largest) outdoor event in the U.S. A little personal side note: one of my sisters was a PR Parade Beauty queen (in the mid 70s).

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“Grito de Lares” by Augusto Marin

El Grito de Lares: Several hundred women and men revolted against Spain for Puerto Rican independence on Sept. 23, 1868. The main leader was Ramón Betances. The insurrection failed because the upper class was apathetic, the rebels lacked adequate training and equipment, and because the Spanish authorities knew (with the help of Puerto Rican traitors -- aka conservatives) of the rebels' plans in advance.

-=[ Puerto Rican Parade ]=-

50 Greatest Moments

By Eneida del Valle

Last Updated: 5:00 AM, June 6, 2007 / Posted: 5:00 AM, June 6, 2007

From beauty queens who marched in heels to politicians who sported fake smiles to win some votes, to the controversial 'Seinfeld' episode, the Puerto Rican Parade has made Big Apple history for over half a century.

March 1958: Leaders from the Puerto Rican community decide to break away from the Hispanic Day Parade and create the Puerto Rican Day Parade. According to an editorial in "El Diario," the main objective of the Hispanic Day Parade, which was mainly run by Puerto Ricans, is to unite all peoples of the Spanish language. The Puerto Rican Day Parade is founded by Victor Lopez, the march’s first president; coordinator Jose “Chuito” Caballero; Peter Ortiz; Luisa Quintero; Luis Amando Feliciano; Vicente Hernández; Angel M. Arroyo; Atanacio Rivera Feliciano; and Amalio Maisanave Ríos.

April 1958: The first Puerto Rican Day parade is held on Fifth Avenue on April 14 as 5,000 Boricuas march in front of a crowd of 125,000. It’s a huge success, receiving a hail of positive reviews from the media. The Herald Tribune says, “There are longer and larger parades but none encompass the spirit of the Puerto Rican Day Parade,” and the New York Times says, “The Puerto Ricans have taken over Fifth Avenue.” Then-New York Mayor Robert F. Wagner is quoted in the New York Times, as saying “The Puerto Ricans have demonstrated their civic and cultural contributions to the City of New York.” But what really got tongues wagging was when Gloria Burgos, the queen of the parade, and her court, walked all 34 blocks in high heels after the float she was supposed to appear on never showed up. Attendees included then-Governor of Puerto Rico Don Luis Muñoz Marin and Oscar González Suarez, Esq. as the Grand Marshall.

April 12, 1959: The second parade goes off -- but not without a hitch. Community leaders and the media form an alliance called Un Frente Unido por un Solo Desfile (A United Front for One Parade) in an effort to unite the Hispanic Day Parade and the Puerto Rican Day Parade, urging organizers for unity and harmony. But to no avail. The president of the parade, Mr. Victor Lopez, is quoted in El Diario de Nueva York as saying, “The parade will definitely not unite with any other Hispanic parade in New York City.” Despite the 40-degree weather, it’s attended by 160,000 people and more than 10,000 people make their way up Fifth Avenue. Then-New York Governor Nelson Rockefeller is in attendance.

April 1960 & 1961: Parade continues its success up Fifth Avenue with more than 165,000 in attendance both years.

June 1962: It’s official! The parade is held on June 10, the second Sunday in June and that date has not changed since. In order to have the legislators from the main island attend the parade – they’re all tied up until May 30 -- organizers decide to change the date to accommodate them and the route is extended from 44th-86th streets. Good thing they waited! The ‘62 parade is billed as the best, brightest, biggest and most expensive ever, costing $100,000 with 50 floats and 40 bands -- and half a million Boricuas in attendance. Yet it was former Mayor of San Juan Felisa Rincón who stole the show. Instead of staying with the rest of the politicians at the stage on 64th Street, she made the decision to ride in a convertible, causing an outpouring of love and support from the crowd.

Recovered Black History: Arturo Schomburg

As a young boy, I encountered an issue I’m sure many other Latin@s, other people of color, and marginalized groups encounter. One day I asked a teacher why she didn’t teach the history of my people and her response was that my people didn’t have a history. When I reported this exchange to my father, he told me that was a lie and thus began my instruction on Puerto Rican Studies. One of the first figures my father taught me about was the Puerto Rican scholar, Arturo Alfonso Schomburg.

You see, while Schomburg was in grade school, one of his teachers similarly claimed that blacks had no history, heroes or accomplishments. This exchange inspired Schomburg to prove the teacher wrong, and he dedicated his life to finding and documenting the accomplishments of Africans on their own continent and in the diaspora, including Afro-Latinos and led him to a life-long quest for Africana Knowledge. Schomburg would also become deeply allied with the African American experience and was one of the main figures of the Harlem Renaissance. He was also among the earliest advocates for Black Studies. Given his immense educational contribution to knowledge about the Black world, which continued to include a special interest in the Caribbean, Latin America, and Spain, Schomburg may be considered the most memorable of Afro-Latin@s in the United States. Schomburg’s life on the color line, his direct knowledge, and experience of racism in the Caribbean and the Untied States, and his kinship with other Afro-Caribbeans and African Americans served as a model for Afro-Latin@s through the first half of the 20^th century. Almost one-hundred years after Arturo Schomburg called for the study of “Negro History,” he continues to serve as a symbol of diasporic unity and as an inspiration for Afro-Latin@s seeking knowledge about their African roots. Today, arguably the world’s largest repository of Africana, The Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture, bears his name.

The following is an excerpt I found in my files. Take note that what Schomburg is proposing here is extremely radical for its time. He’s not merely proposing Black Studies, he’s also making a case for a pedagogy outside the Eurocentric paradigm. Furthermore, he’s inclusive of women, an unpopular and controversial notion at the time of its writing.

Between Black and White: Latino/as In the US

-=[ Black and White and Spic and Span ]=-

-Naaaahhh... You ain't no Porta Reecan.

-I keep telling you: The boy is a Black man with an accent.

-- Wille Perdomo (for Piri Thomas), Nigger-Reecan Blues

[Editor's Note: I've been lazy and as the Latino contingent of this blog, I've been remiss in my duties, what with this being "His-Panic Heritage Month" and all... Anyway, this is in response to some here calling Rick Sanchez "white." Just letting you muthafuckas know, first gringo (black or white) calls me white, gets a visit from the Nuyorican Hit Squad! LOL!!]

Growing up, I had a friend who we nicknamed, “Shadow.” Shadow was a Golden Gloves champion, a Puerto Rican whose dark skin earned him the moniker. He was dark, but not as black as another childhood friend we used to call “Blue.” LOL. Blue was an African American, a cocolo as Puerto Ricans used to sometimes refer to African Americans (yes, it was a pejorative).

The thing with Shadow was that, though he was dark-skinned, he had a sister who was very light-skinned -- light-skinned as in “white” not “Creole,” or “high yellow.” In fact, they looked as if they came from different families. I have blue eyes and I am light-skinned. I was often mistaken for being white. Shadow and I used to hang out and we would watch each other’s backs because the rough and tumble ghettos of New York City where we were raised, we identified as Puerto Ricans.

Blacks and whites used to get very confused around Puerto Ricans because we would refuse to identify as either black or white. I am not white, in the sense that I identify with whiteness as it is defined in the U.S. Shadow didn’t identify as black as it is defined in the US. Before anything, we were were first Boricuas -- Puerto Ricans.

These issues caused many problems for Puerto Ricans. At home, we were treated equally: there was no “white Puerto Rican” vs. a “black Puerto Rican,” we were brothers and sisters, cousins, aunts and uncles. Our mothers didn't say, “My white Puerto Rican son, Eddie,” or “My black Puerto Rican niece, Nydia.” We were Puerto Ricans.

We were familia, communidad, and skin color wasn’t a determining factor for accessing love or whatever benefits our families could provide. The same, however, wasn’t true when we were exposed to the social institutions in the USA. At school, we were often separated though my cousin at home was just as smart as I was. Though I don’t identify as a white, I learned quickly that I was given preferential treatment because of my Eurocentric features. We all learned this early on in our lives. In some cases, it served to makes us cling more closely together, in other instances it was a source of much pain and grief -- of identity crisis.