Written by Elio Rodriguez Zeda (2023):

A cultural pride and Boricua spirit animates within my family whenever Puerto Rico is represented in media, whenever an old extended family member or old memory resurfaces, or whenever it's time for a fiesta. I recall late nights when the Puerto Rican boxer Miguel Cotto was set to fight, and my family would always gather around the living room TV with freshly made sorullitos (they are like a fried corn-meal dish). I recall the MANY family birthdays and parties that feature salsa music from the likes of Puerto Rico's own Marc Anthony and Héctor Lavoe, classic reggaetón songs, or just straight up Latino dancehall staples (it's literally not a Puerto Rican party unless Suavemente by Elvis Crespo is played at least once).

For my parents and grandparents, this strong attraction to Puerto Rico in these instances often serve as a source of pride and a general escape from an otherwise financially-tense working class situation. For me as a native-born Boricua who lived just about all their life in New Jersey with little Spanish skills, reggaetón music and Puerto Rican flag iconography served as a way to desperately clinch onto my cultural connection to an island I had no active memory of. But as of recent, talk of Puerto Rico has required vulnerable reflection on the problems that afflict its people; poverty and wealth inequality is irrefutable considering how many still suffer from the effects of Hurricane Maria 4 years ago. Furthermore, a 2021 state of emergency issued over the rise of gender violence against women and especially transgender citizens painfully revealed the reality of machismo that sadly permeates Puerto Rico. Thus when it comes to reflecting on my Puerto Rican identity, I grapple between my weirdly profound pride in its culture and a necessary attention to the social justice and socio-economic issues of the small, yet loud island.