I was born in Cuba a mere 13 years after WWII. I lived a childhood in turmoil, during the late 50’s and early 60’s. Think Revolution, Bay of Pigs, Missile Crisis. I exiled to the United States in December of 1966, just in time for the turmoil of the civil rights days, more assassinations, Woodstock, and the Moon landing.
I finished high school in 1974 – and just came back from celebrating our 50th reunion from Henry County High School. This was a time when disco was still in the gay underground, soon to blossom into the mainstream. In college – Georgia Tech – I was exposed to folks from everywhere, different lifestyles, and different ways of thinking beyond what I had experienced in the confines of suburban (almost rural) middle Georgia.
I don’t know why I chose architecture; there are no architects in my family. But living and studying with architects expanded my horizons as to how to – literally – look at life. It also exposed me to the fringes of circles of drug, sex, rock-and-roll – and friends across the gender spectrum at a time when such was not yet ready for prime-time.
Simultaneously, I deepened my faith in Catholicism. And soon discovered the strong correlation of my liberal schooling and the social justice teachings of the Church. Thanks to the Agrupación Católica Universitária (ACU) – and the spiritual direction of Father Edd Salazar, S.J. – I committed to do ‘faith doing justice’.
All at the same time, I remained staunchly grounded on my “Cubaness”, never straying too far from my innermost desire to reconnect with my contemporaries that I had left behind when I exiled. Indeed, I increasingly became interested in learning more about how the Cuban Revolution went so wrong, how the beautiful aspirations of a more egalitarian, less corrupt society soon warped into a top-down repressive system from within and a system captive to imperialist demands from outside. I also saw the inexcusable ‘thumb on the scale’ that the US put on Cuba with an illegitimate embargo/blockade that to this day strangles the Cuban people and does nothing more than provide the Regime – and its adversaries (or corollaries?) in Miami – to do nothing substantive to change things.
The older I got professionally, the more I saw around me – and in history – people of good faith, people doing good deeds, people truly committed to the service of others. (Yes, my glasses are indeed rose colored!) I was a sponge, trying to learn as fast as I could to dispel hate and embrace love. Not easy, but certainly committed to the pursuit.
The twists and turns of life took me to working with disenfranchised communities and those in the margins in the US. I was privileged to work with entities that sought to create change for the common good, including NeighborWorks America. (I was not necessarily involved in direct services – I did more technical assistance). My professional work became my life’s commitment. My life’s commitment became my professional work. And so it was for 12 years with Montgomery County government under the leadership of mentors and greats like Ike Leggett. And I have not looked back. The last three years of post official work has brought me to the University of Maryland where I’ve ran across an amazing team of devoted academicians that have rekindled my passion for learning from, sharing with, and accompanying those whose voices are seldom heard.
Oh, and how sad what I see today! The seemingly total collapse of the aspirational ideals I embraced throughout my life: aspirational ideals where the down-and-out, the discarded, and the invisible can be authentically engaged and be part of defining a more caring, empathetic – and yes, loving community. Yet it was not to be – at least not yet.
When the Berlin wall fell, I thought for sure we were starting a truly transformative era in the world. When 9/11 happened, I thought for sure we’d come together. When January 6th happened I thought we’d surely wake up.
Yet it was not to be – at least not yet.
Regarding Cuba, I continued to dabble in whatever ways I could to remain connected. And then Obama went. And I saw a glimpse of what was possible. The aspirations became closer to reality. It was exhilarating and exciting. I truly thought that we were moving towards a more reciprocal, just, welcoming, and mutually beneficial diplomatic relationship. Yet it was not to be – at least not yet. (But, I keep trying to do my part by taking students to experience the reality – and better understand of the ‘whys’ of a perverse US policy).
Sometimes I think that I was born a decade too late. Had I been born earlier, I would have totally been a Woodstock hippie. Instead I became an old geezer that reminisces about those days with an idealism that is probably far from reality.
I don’t know that I am ready to grow old in a world opting for authoritarianism. It is sad to see the absence of aspiration of democracy anywhere in the world including the United States.
It is becoming clearly evident that I live in but a blip of history; a quirk of a world that is moving in the same direction it has always moved: more wars, more conflicts; our times are not different.
No, I have not fallen into desolation. There is still hope, there is still faith. Yet, it is a melancholic scene. So many dreams deferred. So many aspirations shattered. And now people in the United States are on the verge of willingly electing a movement that will certainly reverse – if not destroy – what in my lifetime many of us worked towards: A loving community, because it is meant to be – even if not yet.
May goodness prevail. Vote.