‘To speak or to die’: Poetics of Puerto Rican Hope and Resistance

*Note: this essay was originally submitted for a university assessment as part of an Empire and Aftermaths module. Its original full length title is ‘To speak or to die’: ‘the independence (of puerto rico)’ as a Poetics of Puerto Rican Hope and Resistance.

Sadly I don’t think Substack will allow me to include the full list of poems I have written on due to copyright issues, however most can be found online. It should also be kept in mind that these poems are translated from Spanish into English, and that Salas Rivera included each original poem alongside its translated counterpart in the anthology. Some Spanish language even remains embedded within the translations, in order to bring the reader closer to Puerto Rican culture. This is in line with the notion of ‘cultural opacity,’ the belief that the minds of those from other cultures are somehow ‘opaque,’ or harder to see. It is a kind of ‘untranslatability,’ operating as a reclamation and a protest against the colonisation of language.

The series of poems entitled ‘the independence (of puerto rico)’ from Roque Raquel Salas Rivera’s anthology ‘Before island is volcano’ (2022) captures a contemporary portrait of Puerto Rico as a land and people shaped by colonialism, bearing wounds continually deepened by colonial structures that perpetuate a cycle of dependency in the wake of ongoing events, such as Hurricane Maria in 2017. Academics Edna Acosta-Belén and Carlos Santiago have traced Puerto Rico’s history as a U.S. territory and examined how this colonial relationship, the ultimate governance of the island being retained by the U.S. Congress, continues to negatively affect Puerto Ricans today. In the face of current financial crises or natural disasters, they argue, Puerto Ricans face a “powerlessness and dependency inherent in their colonial condition” (Acosta-Belén & Santiago, 2). The series deals with the amalgam of feelings this history creates, and how it constructs Puerto Rican identity, both personally and nationally. This manifests itself, Frances Negrón-Muntaner argues, in an internalised sense of subordination and shame for the dependent position in which Puerto Ricans find themselves. “If it were not for the "shame" of being Puerto Rican, there would be no boricua identity [...] as we know it” (Negrón-Muntaner, xiii). Natasha Azank characterises Puerto Rican poetry as a ‘poetics of resistance,’ defined by the spirit of “resistance and survival [...] in the face of more than five hundred years of colonisation” (Azank, 1), expressing through their literature the national “struggle for self-determination and self-definition” (Azank, 1). I argue that these poems define the Puerto Rican struggle in terms of a push and pull between remaining within the perceived comfort and safety of accepting colonial narratives of shame, and seeking liberation through imagining an entirely new, independent future, in spite of the fear of the unknown. Salas Rivera thus constructs not only a poetics of resistance, but a ‘poetics of hope’ for the future of Puerto Rico.

The series begins by inspecting the ways Puerto Ricans have collectively internalised the narrative of dependency on the US, positioning themselves as subordinate, thus minimising their own sense of national identity. Rivera frequently uses collective pronouns throughout the first poem, italicising ‘we’ and ‘us’ as a rejection of the minimised importance of the Puerto Rican self as a self-defined whole. The “act of stating we are only an island” (Rivera, 1), the poet protests, is a “corrosive act” (Rivera, 1). Rivera urges Puerto Ricans not to ‘corrode’ their identity, as this hands power back to the oppressor. The poem continues “we’ve spent a lifetime fearing ourselves / while getting robbed by strangers,” (Rivera, 1) as a reminder of the ways in which the U.S. have diminished and exploited Puerto Rico for their own benefit. Acosta-Belén and Santiago note that the integration of the island’s economy with the U.S. economy has fed into Puerto Rico’s ever-increasing dependency on the “priorities and policies [of the U.S, making Puerto Rico] susceptible to its fluctuations, and more intensely affected by its downturns” (Acosta-Belén & Santiago, 3). This in combination with Puerto Ricans’ “limited control of their territory, economy, trade, and other government affairs” (Acosta-Belén & Santiago, 6) has facilitated migration, diminishing the population of archipelago Puerto Ricans and eroding their national identity. By constructing an oppositional ‘them,’ Rivera strengthens the presence of an ‘us,’ insisting that “we are [...] / more than what they imagine / and more than [...] / we have imagined” (Rivera, 1), in a demand for Puerto Ricans to envision ‘more’ for themselves. For the remainder of the poem, each stanza begins ‘we are,’ looking to Azank’s notion of the struggle for self-definition. Having outlined the need for the reclamation of it, the poet creates a semantics of power - “we are fatal / [...] high-and-mighty on the coast” (Rivera, 1) - and in turn, hope for an end to the oppressive forces restricting Puerto Ricans - “the death of trenches / and the governments that induce them” (Rivera, 1). This positive self-definition grows in the second poem with the repetition of ‘we are’ line openings and the comparatives “more,” “bigger,” “stronger,” “braver” (Rivera, 2). The standalone lines “we owe no one shame. / [nor] smallness.” represent the culmination of Rivera’s call to end the internalisation of the colonial narrative that Puerto Rico is merely an adjacent, a ‘leech’ to the U.S. - “the smallest of the upper” (Rivera, 2). Rivera utilises questioning as a rhetorical device to interrogate who holds the power in this colonial relationship, to suggest independence can be reclaimed through bravery, hope and self-determination: “who made them a copy of the key? [...] just leave them out. / just leave them gone” (Rivera, 2).

Despite the series’ initial hopeful tone, the poet delves further into the complexities arising from this colonial relationship, and the barriers that threaten the hope of national independence. Continuing his interrogation of colonial power structures - “who told you,” “where were they,” “how come” (Rivera, 3) - the poetic form is fragmented. Rivera emphasises the way in which continual new challenges, such as Hurricane Maria, exacerbate the fear among Puerto Ricans that living without the support of the U.S is an impossibility, thus disrupting the process of liberation. The fallout from Hurricane Maria was a prime example of the detriment of colonial dependency: “government officials’ halfhearted initial hurricane emergency relief efforts and the absence so far of a clear fiscal commitment from the US Congress to the islandʼs long-term recovery from widespread destruction and economic collapse only confirm for many Puerto Ricans their unequal treatment as US citizens and further expose the limitations of the islandʼs subordinate colonial status” (Acosta-Belén & Santiago, 2). The ever-present tension between the dependency on U.S. support and the concomitant insufficiency of said support is reflected in the line “how come they only came to hit you down?” (Rivera, 3). The fracturing of the poem not only highlights the disruption to the everyday lives of Puerto Ricans in the wake of Hurricane Maria, but the disruption to writers such as Rivera himself. Azank quotes Barbara Harlow’s assertion that “the role of poetry in the liberation struggle itself has [...] been a crucial one, both as a force for mobilising a collective response to occupation and domination and as a repository for popular memory and consciousnessˮ (Harlow, 34 quoted in Azank, 8). Rivera therefore illustrates how the effects of colonialism serve to silence colonised voices, feeding into a cycle of dependency and producing a kind of ‘Stockholm Syndrome’; a desire to remain under colonial rule because it is comfortable and familiar, and out of fear that seeking liberation will only worsen the situation. Rivera embodies this sense of Stockholm Syndrome as the third poem continues. The lines “fruits we give to a god, / our hands pointing towards nothing. / [...] entire lineage of givers” (Rivera, 3) point to the ‘fruitlessness’ of the colonial relationship, constantly giving yet receiving very little in return, and one’s identity being reduced to a ‘giver.’ ‘Entire lineage’ cements the sense of familiarity with this role, creating the Stockholm Syndrome epitomised by the sentiment “how beautiful to give ourselves” (Rivera, 3).

Rivera ties together a ‘poetics of resistance’ and a ‘poetics of hope’ by emphasising collective mobilisation and ‘togetherness.’ As in the second poem, with its insistent mantra ‘we are,’ the fourth poem stresses that individual actants cannot enact change in isolation. A semantic field of collectivity - “gathered,” “connect,” “together,” “grouped” (Rivera, 4) - conveys the need for individuals to come together to bring about change. However, the poet rejects a ‘togetherness’ characterised by oppression; a nation of individuals tied together by the oppressive experience of living under colonialism - “together tears,” “furies grouped,” “isolated sparks” (Rivera, 4). Rather, Rivera advocates for connecting through hope and joy; looking to a brighter future as an act of rebellion against the notion that there can be no future without the presence of the coloniser. The poet states: “defend your joy / re-appropriate your resources” (Rivera, 4) in a call for the reclamation of a positive Puerto Rican identity, free from shame. This is in line with Negrón-Muntaner’s argument that “boricua bodies are persistently negotiating their shameful constitution, refashioning the looks that aim to humiliate or take joy away from them” (Negrón-Muntaner, xviii).

Rivera returns to the ‘Stockholm Syndrome’ of colonised Puerto Ricans in the fifth poem, examining the fears inherent in the idea of a liberated future, and how these can be reframed. Speaking from the perspective of one paralysed by fear, the fifth poem expresses the dread of regretting fighting for one’s independence: “won’t you be haunted by this one choice? / make sure you want to do this. / we have so little left.” (Rivera, 5). The fight for freedom is characterised in this poem as a laborious, constant process: “[...] after a fight / there’s no fight left. / they will send new nations to kill us. / and then what will you offer?” (Rivera, 5). This sentiment is echoed in the final instalment in the series, a quote from Frantz Fanon, a political philosopher speaking on the tiresome process of the struggle for liberation: “the colonised never stops achieving his freedom from nine in the evening until six in the morning” (Fanon quoted in Rivera, 8). The sixth poem verbalises fears of abandonment or punishment by the coloniser in the face of rebellion - “won’t your gods leave you? / [...] won’t your joys be withheld like goods in the port? / won’t you be punished for the dream / you chose to manifest?” (Rivera, 6). For a moment spanning across poems six and seven, the speaker teeters on the precipice of hope, yet remains incapacitated by despair - “a round, final terror” (Rivera, 7) - aware of the familiarity they are choosing to leave behind.

As the series unravels into this pervasive, cyclical sense of despair - “won’t they come back with more armies, / bigger guns, / denser strategies, / new elections?” (Rivera, 5) - it hits upon a crucial point: “won’t you die?” (Rivera, 5). Whilst this line appears to give up hope entirely on the possibility of a liberated future, it is in fact the point at which Rivera’s ‘poetics of hope’ actualises. Despite the increasing entrapment between the forces of hope and despair, the moment at which the speaker faces the reality of death is the same moment at which they are set free. It calls back to the reality expressed most plainly in poem four: “we live on stolen time” (Rivera, 4). The speaker reaches the understanding of the impossible situation the colonised subject is placed in; regardless of whether they choose to rebel, exploitation and oppression will persist. The speaker will inevitably die, yet without resistance, the cycle will continue - “do you think you can avoid pain? / [...] if you took the cautious path, they still exploited you, / [...] and you were good your whole life. / you won’t lose what you don’t have” (Rivera, 4). It is this point upon which Rivera’s poetics of hope hinges; no amount of ‘goodness’ in the eyes of the coloniser will earn the colonised true freedom. Liberation is not something that can be granted by the oppressor, rather it must be taken by force. Facing the reality of intrinsic pain and shame allows the speaker to conclude that hope is worth the struggle. Negrón-Muntaner acknowledges this: “While shame, like any self-awareness, is painful, it is no less true that as the affect of reflexivity and self-discovery, it is a precondition to transformation and hope” (Negrón-Muntaner, xviii).

Rivera’s poetics of hope for Puerto Rican independence is constructed through the eyes of the colonised subject, trapped by shame forged by a colonial past, which perpetuates dependency and prevents the possibility of looking to an independent future. The complexity of the ‘Stockholm Syndrome’ produced by colonialism is explored via the cyclical waves of hope and despair that overwhelm the subject. Ultimately, Rivera looks to a collective recognition of the past, in order to envision a future of freedom; advocating for community, and a shared understanding that the first step to breaking free from an oppressive regime is to seize joy and fight to define the Puerto Rican self as a whole, in the face of narratives that deny this.

Bibliography

Raquel Salas Rivera. Antes Que Isla Es Volcán / before Island Is Volcano. Beacon Press, 5 Apr. 2022.

Azank, Natasha. “The Guerilla Tongue”: The Politics of Resistance in Puerto Rican Poetry, University of Massachusetts Amherst, United States -- Massachusetts, 2012.

Acosta-Belén, Edna and Santiago, Carlos E.. Puerto Ricans in the United States: A Contemporary Portrait, Boulder, USA Lynne Rienner Publishers, 2018.

Negrón-Muntaner, Frances, ‘Prefaceʼ in Boricua Pop: Puerto Ricans and the Latinization of American Culture, New York University Press, 2004.