VivirLatino

Apparently Citizenship Day came and went. The entire I pondered my citizenship: how I was born into it, how my parents were born into it, and how my abuelos, when they were toddlers, woke up with it one morning. My U.S. citizenship, with all it’s rights, privileges, and associations is held somewhat heavily along with my passport and other “proofs” that I “belong” here. When I level criticisms against the U.S. and it’s policies, I am told to go back where I came from. Leave. As a Puerto Rican U.S. Citizen living within the 50 states, I can vote. If I were to reside in Puerto Rico, I could fight wars in the name of the United States but suddenly would have no say in who the Commander in Chief of the U.S. armed forces should be. I have considered going Juan Mari Bras style: moving to Puerto Rico and renouncing my U.S. Citizenship, after all, to quote the poeta Mariposa, Yo no naci en Puerto Rico, Puerto Rico nacio en mi. Pero when people ask “what are you”, I stumble a bit. Sometimes I say Nuyorican, placing myself firmly in the city I love while holding on to who my family is. Sometimes I say straight up, Rican. Sometimes I say Latina. Pero I never, ever say “American”, at least not the way people want me to say it.
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