Over six months after the back-t0-back hits of Hurricanes Irma and Maria, the island of Puerto Rico continues to recover from these storms while facing new challenges: another island-wide blackout, loss of FEMA motel housing assistance for those that fled the island for the mainland United States, and nearly 300 schools closing permanently this summer as a result of declining enrollment. The comics community answers the call for assistance with recover with this anthology from Lion Forge, the first of two anthologies to benefit the island to be released this year. (The second, from DC Comics, will arrive on May 23, 2018.)
Cover Art by Naomi FranquizWritten and Illustrated by Various
Cover Art by Naomi Franquiz
Back Cover Art by Kristen Van Dam
Edited by Marco Lopez, Desiree Rodriguez, Hazel Newlevant, Derek Ruiz, and Neil SchwartzThe comics community comes together in empathy for the destruction that Puerto Rico faced after the island was hit with two major hurricanes in quick succession. Many Latinx contributors answered to call to share in prose and art their reflections on Puerto Rican people and culture to offer insight into the life of this island community and their resilience in the face of disaster. All proceeds from “Puerto Rico Strong” will be donated to support relief efforts.
Like many Americans, most of what I know about Puerto Rico comes in bits and pieces. It’s the island that is part of the United States but is not a state but sometimes decides it wants to be a state. The homeland of Hamilton composer Lin-Manuel Miranda. The parade in New York City every June that is at times glorious celebration, and others, controversial tragedy. That island that Rita Moreno’s Maria in West Side Story left because “I like the Island Manhattan. Smoke on your pipe and put that in!” The origin of that really delicious coquito drink that some of the secretaries at my previous law firm jobs would bring in on the holidays that was like eggnog.
I watched the twin disasters of Hurricanes Maria and Irma unfold from afar, hearing stories of the island’s destruction second hand from friends whose family members were trapped on the island in the immediate aftermath, cut off from communication. I shared in their pain and fear of not knowing if grandparents, cousins, friends, had lived or died. And yet, that pain was still distant to me, as a white woman comfortably living in the northeastern United States. “Puerto Rico Strong” was part of my personal initiative to follow what my Multiversity colleage Paul Lai professes in his podcast Comics Syllabus: to read widely and dig deep. This was a culture that had touched me on a superficial level, like a tap on the shoulder. What I needed now was a deep tissue massage into Puerto Rican life.
Not much of this work touches directly on the natural disasters of 2017, though there are more than a few pieces that address it, directly or indirectly. Anthony Otero and Charles Ugas’s “La Casita of American Heroes” shows how even those trained to be the most unaffected in tragedy lose that facade when the tragedy hits very close to home. Grant Alter’s “Family,” a tale of his friendship with a Puerto Rican man in the Bronx through comics, ends with a personal plea to provide any help that you can, since “we’re all in this together.” Other stories, like “Resilience by Lamplight” and “What Remains in the Dark” are tales using the metaphor of a single, small flame, both the literal light of a gas lamp or candle and the figurative flame of hope, to light one’s way through dark times.
The majority of “Puerto Rico Strong” is a education and celebration of the island’s history and culture, from the Taino indigenous people that settled throughout the Caribbean to the present day, pre-Maria and Irma financial and political troubles. Here is where the versatility in storytelling shines, featuring everything from straight historical narrative (“A Broken P.R.O.M.E.S.A.,” by Rosa Colón) to futuristic alternative history (“Pasitos Grandes” by Tristan J. Tarwater and Cynthia Santos) to adventure (“The Last Pirate in the Caribbean” by Mina Elwell and T.E. Lawrence). Artists and writers do not shy away from the political agenda in their stories when necessary, hinting at a United States that was more colonizer than benevolent friend in the early years of the island’s relationship, and tackling President Trump and his tossing of paper towels to a crowd of survivors with unabashed disgust and anger.
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There are also unknown (to many Americans) aspects of island history that will shock and horrify. In two back to back works, Lillian Rivera and Ally Shwed shed light on the U.S. imposed forced sterilization that many Puerto Rican women faced from the 1930s to the 1970s. Ms. Rivera’s views it from a more personal perspective of a woman faced with the possibility of the procedure in Puerto Rico, choosing not to undergo it but only being confronted with the possibility again in America a decade later, right down to the exact same brochure she saw in Barceloneta. Ms. Shwed presents the simple facts of what was called by many women “La Operación” and its placement after Ms. Rivera’s piece only heightens the emotional tone of the former.
A good anthology finds a common thread to tie it together, while allowing individual artistic styles to shine. These artists all embrace the method that tells their story best, be it black and while editorial cartooning (“Thanks For Nothing” by Tom Beland”) to flat cartooning in the style of Gilbert Hernandez (the aforementioned “La Operación” and “A Broken P.R.O.M.E.S.A.”) to photorealism (“The Dragon of Bayamón” by Jeff Gomez, Fabian Nicieza, and Adriana Melo, and “Breaking Bread” by Tara Martinez and Rod Espinosa). This individualistic approach showcases versatility and skill, encouraging readers (myself included) to seek out more works on a singular, focused theme. If there is one thing many of these artists share in common in their technique, it is color. Save for a few stories where black and white cartooning is a deliberate choice (more on that in a bit), every story is rich in some level of color: the Crayola palette of “Pasitos Grandes” and “A Taino’s Tale,” the pastels of “Resilience by Lamplight,” the watercolors of “Helping Hands,” the pastel crayon texture of “Areytos.” It’s a reflection on the diversity in the Puerto Rican people.
The stories that tug at heartstrings the most are without questions the personal experiences: those of first or second-generation Americans returning to their homeland for the first time, the first time in a long time, or perhaps even the last time. One story in particular, Adam Lance Garcia and Heidi Black’s “Stories From My Father” plays with color and emotion to beautiful degree. Brightly colored panels depict the narrator’s recollection of her father’s memories of Puerto Rico, with her childhood memories fading to a more pastel, watercolor tone. Adulthood in the present day is devoid of any color, even when our heroine is in her homeland – – literally “Puerto Rico faded from view.” It’s a sublime metaphor for how the passage of time dulls our memories. Ms. Black uses what I call the “Schindler’s List Technique” of color in certain panels to bring back those youthful visions; in this case, a container of florecitas (iced cookies). By the end of the work, as the narrator reaffirms her commitment to make her own story of her homeland, the panels return to vibrant color, but richer than the opening – – the allegory of finding one’s own way to capture a shared history.
And what a shared history this island, these people have. It is horrific and heartbreaking that our own government’s response to these hurricanes has been slow at best, and thoroughly insulting to these people at its worst. Puerto Ricans are American citizens, and have been for nearly a century, which makes Washington’s official action a double slap in the face. My prayer is that works like “Puerto Rico Strong” and other efforts by cultural communities can raise awareness and empathy in other corners of our nation, leading to continued aid in all forms from the American people. Aren’t we stronger when we’re together, no matter where we are?
