Perdida en San Juan

A theme that has continually surfaced in literature classes of mine is that of placelessness. It’s easy to feel in the obvious places: Denny’s (in LA?), in bus stations, airports, the cupones office. Where the marginalized are: hospitals, prisons, nursing homes. Sterility. It’s to be expected and it’s (generally) easy to escape from such places, at least physically.

But what happens when the placelessness is an entire island, that’s never been independent, and can’t easily be classified as either the US or Latin America? The placelessness is palpable: we float in the Caribbean. It’s both a mental and physical state. No man is an island, but an island is an island. The US grants “free state” status to the island which is such a crazy unique relationship that it has no real equal that I can think of. Nor is Puerto Rico part of Latin America, though because of its Spanish-speaking nature, the work of PR authors is found in LA lit classes. There is something distinctly American about the way people consume material goods here but unmistakably Latin American in its strong traditional values. Puerto Ricans don’t vote in United States elections, yet are found in large numbers in the Armed Forces. They hold US passports and can’t travel to Cuba, but don’t pay many US taxes and have their own flag. I send letters from a United States Post Office and can be reached at a US area code (787), but we celebrate the discovery of Puerto Rico as “national” holiday (Oct 12, its a Thursday and I have off from work).

I’ve been spending the past few weeks searching for grants. Countless programs are open only to “the 50 states and the District of Columbia,” thus excluding this island. On the other hand, I have not yet seen one program include Puerto Rico that purports to be open to the Caribbean. Latin American grants don’t even pretend to include Central America or the Caribbean and instead skip right to the fashionable Brasil, Argentina, Chile and sometimes, when feeling generous, Peru. There is exactly one foundation whose express purpose is fund Puerto Rican initiatives, and already it is spread so thin that its barely worth applying for. One grant that would be perfect for my organization and for which we are, I am convinced, more qualified for than any other program in the world, is open just to the States. This might seem fair until you consider my organization is registered as a 501(c)(3) nonprofit with the IRS.

It would be unfair to say that nobody seems to mind this. But the vast majority of the population here, it seems to me, doesn’t think a whole lot about it. Sure, there’s the fiercely independentista party (PIP) the awesome weekly nationalist paper (Claridad), and there seems to be a strong progressive, independentist presence at the UPR but I have actively sought out these groups. I work at a small, costly private university where nobody gives a fuck about anything at all. There are no student groups and it took the initiative of an American girl (my roommate) to start a recycling program on campus.

As the secretary in my office said, she believes that in their heart, every Puerto Rican wants independence. So why doesn’t anyone do anything about it? The placelessness is such a part of the place that without it, something would be lost. In gaining a concrete identity, real autonomy, the island might actually be further isolated. The PIP argues that PR doesn’t have a strong enough presence in international affairs and aren’t represented in the international arena. They’re right of course, and who cares if PR sends their own candidate for Miss Universe? That kind of thing, that brings national pride and support here, boils down to basically nothing.

Real independence is something that is so distant that it doesn’t seem possible or even desirable to the vast majority of Puerto Ricans. It might be an issue of confidence. Whereas the United States has this crazy ego problem, I might argue that this island has a inferiority complex. The arguments are familiar: PR couldn’t do it without the US’s help, the economy would collapse, we don’t export enough, there is no money. And this all seems logical and reasonable, and true that it would take years of careful planning to successfully declare independence. But it’s certainly possible. Think about all the tiny countries in the world that handle their own affairs quietly and without crisis. Especially since local and island-wide government function well enough (albeit with a high degree of corruption), PR is well-versed in handling internal affairs such as reasonably-priced public insurance programs (on a sliding scale) and extremely low costs for higher education, wide access to social programs and infrastructure development (one of the nicest train systems I’ve ever seen, but I should look into this, it may be US-funded).

As it was put to me at my orientation in my first week here, the PIP (independentistas) are “more of a movement than a party.” But why? A few years ago there was an island-wide vote on the issue of becoming a US state. It was defeated (as it would have been swiftly if it ever managed to reach Congress). Some say its because PR enjoys the loose, very beneficial association with the US and in some ways you can’t blame them. So the majority of Puerto Ricans choose not to be actively, unequivocally part of the US, but are content to be a possession. What?? Comments, please.