Last Sunday, June 8, the yearly tradition of the Puerto Rican day parade overwhelms New York City. It happens every first Sunday in June, when the mass of Nuyoricans color 5th avenue in a wash of red white and blue. For a whole day, the bougiest neighborhood in the bougiest city in the bougiest nation in the world rings with loud thumps of Reggaeton and repeated shouts of B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-Boricua!
For this one day, a prideful people gather to show really how loud, passionate and in-your-face one goup of people can really be. Puerto Rican flags are painted on cars, flown from the highest of skyscrapers, and worn as every article of clothing imagineable. (who knew they made boxer underwear with the PR flag?)
It almost reminds me of the pride that Black folks felt last week when Barack Obama finally (and yes, FINALLY!) secured the Democratic nomination to be president of the United States. We were proud. We smiled, cheered, and congratulated each other. We forwarded emails and re-watched all the great speeches. We compared Obama to every Black leader imaginable. Most of all we just reminisced how none of us thought this could happen in our life time. Black folks have never been so proud.
And so subdued.
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