Chris Sabatini, Editor-in-Chief of Americas Quarterly and Senior Director of the Americas Society/Council of the Americas, sends a message to Roots of Hope at the 2011 Roots of Hope Conference in Boston!
If you cannot see the video below, click on this link.
Monday, June 13, 2011
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Making Wishes Come True
By Miraisy Rodriguez
Soon after attending the 2011 Raices Cuba Conference in Boston, the Miami Roots Board I volunteer with began planning “Bowl for a Cause,” because we heard of non-governmental afterschool youth programs on the island that were in need of our help.
Not too long ago I wrote that my wish for Cuban Youth this year was that they would learn something, anything. I wrote about wanting youth on the island to give me something to fight for. Feeling perhaps a little run down by the quick changes happening in the Middle East, as compared to the stagnation in the country I was born in, I wrote with a yearning for action from within the Island.
As life would have it, the universe heard my call; though granted, perhaps the universe interpreted my blog post a little differently than I would have intended.
I have three cousins, six, fourteen and seventeen, who recently arrived from Cuba. Talking to them about their education has been quite shocking. The oldest one tells me of a lack of teachers, of math classes being taught by students her own age who barely understand what they’re teaching. The youngest one is exemplary of a lack of student preparation in the formative years: where the average six year old in this country has started reading, can count to 100, and can spell her name, we have only just begun to teach my little cousin the alphabet (in Spanish and English).
When I heard that there were non-governmental centers in Cuba working on youth development after school and that there is a list of supplies they need, I turned to the Miami Roots Board with hope and enthusiasm, and they responded.
This coming Thursday we’re hosting a bowling event through which we hope to collect gift cards (from stores like Toys R’ Us and Office Max) that can be used to buy the supplies these afterschool care centers have asked for. I said in my earlier post that I wished Cuban youth would give me something to do for them, and now they have.
I will proudly go to “Bowl for a Cause” this Thursday with my little grain of sand (shaped like a gift card)!
Will you join me?
Miraisy Rodriguez was born in Santa Clara, but raised in Miami. She is a second year law student who likes to blog on her free time and volunteers with the Miami Roots’ Network. Her personal blog may be found at www.miraisy.com
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Un sueño entre dos patrias
By Romy Portuondo
To visit the original publication of this piece in El Nuevo Herald, see here.
En la mañana del pasado viernes 13 de mayo realicé el sueño de miles de jóvenes en todo el mundo. Yo, Romy Lissette Portuondo Remior, me hice graduada universitaria. Allí, sentada en el Bank United Center de la Universidad de Miami, no podía creer que después de veintidós años, al fin cumplía esta meta tan especial. Sin embargo, ni los decanos en sus vestiduras ceremoniales, ni la música, ni las palabras de la propia Donna Shalala, la presidenta de la universidad, podían opacar el brillo tan singular que irradiaba la pareja sentada en la primera fila de la sección 118: mis padres. Cámara en mano, allí estaban listos para ver a su niñita –una cubanita que llegó a Miami con cinco años– realizar su sueño.
En las semanas que precedieron a mi fecha de graduación, mis pensamientos –casi involuntariamente– se concentraban en los sacrificios y esfuerzos de mis padres que hicieron este momento posible.
Yo nací en 1989 en La Habana, Cuba. Como tantos que comparten mi historia, mi camino a Estados Unidos no fue fácil. Mi padre, un hombre brillante, se graduó de Yale en 1959 y regresó a Cuba para luchar por su patria. Con el paso del tiempo él mismo se dio cuenta de que el sueño que él tenía para su hija no era posible cumplirlo bajo las circunstancias en las cuales se encontraba nuestro país. Gracias a la insistencia de mi madre, él me otorgó el permiso para dejar a mi patria y venir a Miami. Aquí comienza mi vida como cubanoamericana. Esta ha sido una vida marcada por la dicotomía entre dos patrias; dos patrias que se han unido en mí para componer mi ser.
Desde mi llegada a Miami siempre he sentido un deber hacia mis dos patrias y hacia las personas que me han ayudado a encaminarme en mi vida. Por esta razón, el éxito no ha sido una aspiración, sino un compromiso.
No tengo con qué pagarle a mi padre: si no fuese por su permiso quizás jamás habría llegado a esta tierra llena de oportunidades. Por esto, cada triunfo académico, cada logro y marca de excelencia la dedico a su memoria.
No tengo con qué pagarle a la comunidad que me recibió como expatriada, que me acogió y me ha visto crecer. Por esto me he dedicado a ser una portavoz de la comunidad cubanoamericana en cada foro que me encuentre, siempre orgullosa de los logros, el idioma y la cultura de nuestro pueblo.
No tengo con qué pagarle a mis familiares y mentores, quienes me han guiado durante los años de mi juventud. Por esto, les brindo mi amor y cariño.
Y, por supuesto, nunca tendré con qué pagarles a mis padres por el amor y el sacrificio que han hecho por mí. Un padrastro que me acogió como su propia hija y una madre que abandonó todo por ofrecerme una vida mejor. A ustedes les debo todo y no tengo palabras para expresar cuánto los quiero.
Hoy domingo 15 de mayo, me siento no sólo graduada universitaria, sino una ciudadana del mundo, cargada con el deber de representar a mi comunidad y cultura en todo lo que haga. En las palabras de Martí: “Yo no sirvo más que al deber, y con éste seré siempre lo bastante poderoso”.
Estudiante cubanoamericana.
Read more: http://www.elnuevoherald.com/2011/05/20/944993/romy-portuondo-un-sueno-entre.html#ixzz1NIIdFcqX
To visit the original publication of this piece in El Nuevo Herald, see here.
En la mañana del pasado viernes 13 de mayo realicé el sueño de miles de jóvenes en todo el mundo. Yo, Romy Lissette Portuondo Remior, me hice graduada universitaria. Allí, sentada en el Bank United Center de la Universidad de Miami, no podía creer que después de veintidós años, al fin cumplía esta meta tan especial. Sin embargo, ni los decanos en sus vestiduras ceremoniales, ni la música, ni las palabras de la propia Donna Shalala, la presidenta de la universidad, podían opacar el brillo tan singular que irradiaba la pareja sentada en la primera fila de la sección 118: mis padres. Cámara en mano, allí estaban listos para ver a su niñita –una cubanita que llegó a Miami con cinco años– realizar su sueño.
En las semanas que precedieron a mi fecha de graduación, mis pensamientos –casi involuntariamente– se concentraban en los sacrificios y esfuerzos de mis padres que hicieron este momento posible.
Yo nací en 1989 en La Habana, Cuba. Como tantos que comparten mi historia, mi camino a Estados Unidos no fue fácil. Mi padre, un hombre brillante, se graduó de Yale en 1959 y regresó a Cuba para luchar por su patria. Con el paso del tiempo él mismo se dio cuenta de que el sueño que él tenía para su hija no era posible cumplirlo bajo las circunstancias en las cuales se encontraba nuestro país. Gracias a la insistencia de mi madre, él me otorgó el permiso para dejar a mi patria y venir a Miami. Aquí comienza mi vida como cubanoamericana. Esta ha sido una vida marcada por la dicotomía entre dos patrias; dos patrias que se han unido en mí para componer mi ser.
Desde mi llegada a Miami siempre he sentido un deber hacia mis dos patrias y hacia las personas que me han ayudado a encaminarme en mi vida. Por esta razón, el éxito no ha sido una aspiración, sino un compromiso.
No tengo con qué pagarle a mi padre: si no fuese por su permiso quizás jamás habría llegado a esta tierra llena de oportunidades. Por esto, cada triunfo académico, cada logro y marca de excelencia la dedico a su memoria.
No tengo con qué pagarle a la comunidad que me recibió como expatriada, que me acogió y me ha visto crecer. Por esto me he dedicado a ser una portavoz de la comunidad cubanoamericana en cada foro que me encuentre, siempre orgullosa de los logros, el idioma y la cultura de nuestro pueblo.
No tengo con qué pagarle a mis familiares y mentores, quienes me han guiado durante los años de mi juventud. Por esto, les brindo mi amor y cariño.
Y, por supuesto, nunca tendré con qué pagarles a mis padres por el amor y el sacrificio que han hecho por mí. Un padrastro que me acogió como su propia hija y una madre que abandonó todo por ofrecerme una vida mejor. A ustedes les debo todo y no tengo palabras para expresar cuánto los quiero.
Hoy domingo 15 de mayo, me siento no sólo graduada universitaria, sino una ciudadana del mundo, cargada con el deber de representar a mi comunidad y cultura en todo lo que haga. En las palabras de Martí: “Yo no sirvo más que al deber, y con éste seré siempre lo bastante poderoso”.
Estudiante cubanoamericana.
Read more: http://www.elnuevoherald.com/2011/05/20/944993/romy-portuondo-un-sueno-entre.html#ixzz1NIIdFcqX
Friday, May 20, 2011
My Wish for Cuban Youth: Part 9
This post marks the ninth entry for the current Roots of Hope blog prompt: "My Wish for Cuban Youth."
Chances
By Karla Vergara
Commencement weekend at Cornell University begins next Friday. As I have spent the last couple of days reflecting on what has truly been an incredibly enlightening four years, I can’t help also invoking the memories built at the start of this journey. I came across Cornell when I was about fifteen and I still didn’t quite know what I wanted out of life. Coming from Puerto Rico to the U.S. for a three-week summer college program didn’t seem like a decisive step to take back then. Never did I imagine that that summer would shed light upon what became my dream.
I attended a private school in Puerto Rico, where most kids who graduate stay within the public university system on the island. And, while said system does offer quality education, I realized early on it wasn’t for me. Then I found Cornell. Or Cornell found me.
Needless to say, being accepted into Cornell University became the goal that defined me through high school. And on the evening of December 15th, 2006, with my best friend by my side, both drenched in sweaty schoolgirl uniforms, I stared blankly at a screen that whispered that my dream school had accepted me: “Congratulations! It is with great pleasure that we inform you that you have been accepted into Cornell University’s College of Arts & Sciences!” With one sentence, I had become an admitted student, projected to graduate in May 2011.
That seems like it only happened yesterday, and here I stand—4 years later. Four years of arduous reading, writing, thinking, crying, laughing, and all those things that are supposed to compose one’s enriching college experience.
There is only a week left until graduation. I constantly find myself looking at the countdown that is annually posted on Cornell’s website for the graduating seniors, wishing the countdown would move a little faster. I constantly tell my friends back home what an excruciatingly painful four years it was. I often repeat to myself, “I can’t wait to start my life!” And then I stop.
At least I had the opportunity to fight for what I want. At least I had a choice. At least I am graduating from the school of my dreams. At least I am now able to choose what I want for myself. How many young adults around the world, in Cuba, wouldn’t love a chance to reach for what I have? And why is it that they can only wish and dream without ever getting to experience the feeling of accomplishment I had when I looked at that computer screen that night? Today, I have a new dream, a new hope: giving my counterparts in Cuba the same opportunities of chasing after their dreams.
Dreaming is everything, and yet meaningless if the dream is out of reach. An education is priceless, but worthless if it does not inspire us to dream further. The fact that I was able to make my dream a reality translates into an undying sense of duty I feel towards those who, no matter how hard they fight or how loud they cry, are not heard.
Karla was born and raised in Puerto Rico and is currently a graduating senior at Cornell University, where she majored in Asian Studies and minored Latino Studies. She is currently in the process of moving to Miami and preparing for law school admissions and is extremely excited to continue to empower Cuban youth on the island.
Chances
By Karla Vergara
Commencement weekend at Cornell University begins next Friday. As I have spent the last couple of days reflecting on what has truly been an incredibly enlightening four years, I can’t help also invoking the memories built at the start of this journey. I came across Cornell when I was about fifteen and I still didn’t quite know what I wanted out of life. Coming from Puerto Rico to the U.S. for a three-week summer college program didn’t seem like a decisive step to take back then. Never did I imagine that that summer would shed light upon what became my dream.
I attended a private school in Puerto Rico, where most kids who graduate stay within the public university system on the island. And, while said system does offer quality education, I realized early on it wasn’t for me. Then I found Cornell. Or Cornell found me.
Needless to say, being accepted into Cornell University became the goal that defined me through high school. And on the evening of December 15th, 2006, with my best friend by my side, both drenched in sweaty schoolgirl uniforms, I stared blankly at a screen that whispered that my dream school had accepted me: “Congratulations! It is with great pleasure that we inform you that you have been accepted into Cornell University’s College of Arts & Sciences!” With one sentence, I had become an admitted student, projected to graduate in May 2011.
That seems like it only happened yesterday, and here I stand—4 years later. Four years of arduous reading, writing, thinking, crying, laughing, and all those things that are supposed to compose one’s enriching college experience.
There is only a week left until graduation. I constantly find myself looking at the countdown that is annually posted on Cornell’s website for the graduating seniors, wishing the countdown would move a little faster. I constantly tell my friends back home what an excruciatingly painful four years it was. I often repeat to myself, “I can’t wait to start my life!” And then I stop.
At least I had the opportunity to fight for what I want. At least I had a choice. At least I am graduating from the school of my dreams. At least I am now able to choose what I want for myself. How many young adults around the world, in Cuba, wouldn’t love a chance to reach for what I have? And why is it that they can only wish and dream without ever getting to experience the feeling of accomplishment I had when I looked at that computer screen that night? Today, I have a new dream, a new hope: giving my counterparts in Cuba the same opportunities of chasing after their dreams.
Dreaming is everything, and yet meaningless if the dream is out of reach. An education is priceless, but worthless if it does not inspire us to dream further. The fact that I was able to make my dream a reality translates into an undying sense of duty I feel towards those who, no matter how hard they fight or how loud they cry, are not heard.
Karla was born and raised in Puerto Rico and is currently a graduating senior at Cornell University, where she majored in Asian Studies and minored Latino Studies. She is currently in the process of moving to Miami and preparing for law school admissions and is extremely excited to continue to empower Cuban youth on the island.
Thursday, May 12, 2011
Their Journey Home Without a Map
By Miguel Cruz
I have a nice routine going Monday evenings now a days. After attempting to break a sweat at the gym, a tuna sandwich sits on my coffee/dining room/work table with a No Reservations marathon on in the background. Fancy, huh?
Man I need to travel. I never studied abroad in college. The whole "too expensive to pay out of pocket, too rich to get a scholarship for it" thing. (Rich? Did I not just mention the tuna sandwich and multi-used $20 IKEA coffee table? Whatever.) Besides, I don’t want to travel abroad with a group of people from here. That’s a vacation. Too comforting. I want to Travel. That is, interact with people from a place on Earth I’ve never seen, learn how they live their lives, and bring back those memories with me to help guide my life moving forward.
With a couple of months of tuna rather than rib-eye – and a few more to go, at that – trip one is finally planned. Unfortunately, that’s a wonderful luxury some cannot even dream of, specifically those in Cuba.
I promise you there are 23-year olds in Cuba with the same “What the hell do I do with my life now?” question that I have. And I guarantee that they can only dream about answering that question through travel.
Cuban youth need this. They need an opportunity to get lost in a place they have never seen before. No assignments, just a couple hundred bucks, a spontaneous personality, and a notebook. That’s unfortunately the easy part.
The real problem is what do youth in Cuba have to come back to? Why should they even go back to Cuba if they leave? Friends and family aside, they lack the incentive to return home with their memories.
What they need is a clean slate to come back to. They need the opportunity to mold their memories and experiences abroad into their own lives, in their own country.
The Cuban government ultimately has a decision to make. If they do indeed break with what history estimates will happen, then it is our responsibility to make these youth’s dreams become reality, and their choice as to how to draw their own map moving forward.
Miguel Cruz moved to Dallas, TX from Cuba when he was two years old. After studying Aerospace Engineering at the University of Texas at Austin, he now resides in Ft. Worth, TX.
I have a nice routine going Monday evenings now a days. After attempting to break a sweat at the gym, a tuna sandwich sits on my coffee/dining room/work table with a No Reservations marathon on in the background. Fancy, huh?
Man I need to travel. I never studied abroad in college. The whole "too expensive to pay out of pocket, too rich to get a scholarship for it" thing. (Rich? Did I not just mention the tuna sandwich and multi-used $20 IKEA coffee table? Whatever.) Besides, I don’t want to travel abroad with a group of people from here. That’s a vacation. Too comforting. I want to Travel. That is, interact with people from a place on Earth I’ve never seen, learn how they live their lives, and bring back those memories with me to help guide my life moving forward.
With a couple of months of tuna rather than rib-eye – and a few more to go, at that – trip one is finally planned. Unfortunately, that’s a wonderful luxury some cannot even dream of, specifically those in Cuba.
I promise you there are 23-year olds in Cuba with the same “What the hell do I do with my life now?” question that I have. And I guarantee that they can only dream about answering that question through travel.
Cuban youth need this. They need an opportunity to get lost in a place they have never seen before. No assignments, just a couple hundred bucks, a spontaneous personality, and a notebook. That’s unfortunately the easy part.
The real problem is what do youth in Cuba have to come back to? Why should they even go back to Cuba if they leave? Friends and family aside, they lack the incentive to return home with their memories.
What they need is a clean slate to come back to. They need the opportunity to mold their memories and experiences abroad into their own lives, in their own country.
The Cuban government ultimately has a decision to make. If they do indeed break with what history estimates will happen, then it is our responsibility to make these youth’s dreams become reality, and their choice as to how to draw their own map moving forward.
Miguel Cruz moved to Dallas, TX from Cuba when he was two years old. After studying Aerospace Engineering at the University of Texas at Austin, he now resides in Ft. Worth, TX.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
My Wish for Cuban Youth: Part 8
This post marks the eighth entry for the current Roots of Hope blog prompt: "My Wish for Cuban Youth."
By Miraisy Rodriguez
I’m not competing in a beauty pageant, so I won’t pretend to answer how we can bring peace to Cuba. All I’ll do is wish that in the 9 months left in 2011 Cuban youth will somehow learn, and thereby bring peace to themselves.
Learn what? Everything! I want young people in Manicaragua, Placetas, and other small towns, nowhere near la Habana, to know who Yoani Sanchez is. I want them to know that U.S. President Carter visited Cuba and spoke on behalf of Cuban spies rather than on their behalf. I want Cuban youth to know that it’s up to them to change that country.
It’s new for me to say “that” country, but for as many years as I’ve been saying “my” country, nothing has happened. The truth is that as much as Cuba is a place I’m nostalgic for and will never stop being my place of birth, I consider myself lucky to have been taken from there by my parents. Yes, it’s important for me to stay abreast of the situation on the ground there, and teach all my friends and colleagues here about it, but what good is that if youth on the ground are clueless? It pains me to speak to the cousins I still have living in Cuba, or those recently arrived, and realize that they know very little about what’s actually going on in their world. It pains me to see some truth to the statements made in the film “The Grandchildren of the Revolution,” that people left in Cuba need to stay, that intelligently informed minds must stop fleeing if the country is to change.
It wasn’t an American-Egyptian that got people in Egypt riled up. All the legwork was done by Egyptians in Egypt. How they did it was a bit amazing, a bit scary, a bit mysterious, but a lot effective. Granted, most of the efforts, at least according to news sources here, took place in Cairo. Cuba, however, is not Egypt, la Habana is not Cairo, and I don’t live in Cuba.
So I wish that sometime soon some Cuban youth will realize that the fight for freedom must be well planned and that it must come at the oppressors from all sides. When that youth aligns with the Habana resistance leaders and the two start campaigning all over Cuba, the fight will have truly started. And then…I will “like” their Facebook page, I will re-post, re-tweet, Wordpress, and whatever else, all their efforts. I will be there for them! My wish is that they’ll soon give me somewhere to be.
Miraisy Rodriguez was born in Santa Clara, but raised in Miami. She is a second year law student who likes to blog on her free time and volunteers with the Miami Roots’ Network. Her personal blog may be found at www.miraisy.com.
By Miraisy Rodriguez
I’m not competing in a beauty pageant, so I won’t pretend to answer how we can bring peace to Cuba. All I’ll do is wish that in the 9 months left in 2011 Cuban youth will somehow learn, and thereby bring peace to themselves.
Learn what? Everything! I want young people in Manicaragua, Placetas, and other small towns, nowhere near la Habana, to know who Yoani Sanchez is. I want them to know that U.S. President Carter visited Cuba and spoke on behalf of Cuban spies rather than on their behalf. I want Cuban youth to know that it’s up to them to change that country.
It’s new for me to say “that” country, but for as many years as I’ve been saying “my” country, nothing has happened. The truth is that as much as Cuba is a place I’m nostalgic for and will never stop being my place of birth, I consider myself lucky to have been taken from there by my parents. Yes, it’s important for me to stay abreast of the situation on the ground there, and teach all my friends and colleagues here about it, but what good is that if youth on the ground are clueless? It pains me to speak to the cousins I still have living in Cuba, or those recently arrived, and realize that they know very little about what’s actually going on in their world. It pains me to see some truth to the statements made in the film “The Grandchildren of the Revolution,” that people left in Cuba need to stay, that intelligently informed minds must stop fleeing if the country is to change.
It wasn’t an American-Egyptian that got people in Egypt riled up. All the legwork was done by Egyptians in Egypt. How they did it was a bit amazing, a bit scary, a bit mysterious, but a lot effective. Granted, most of the efforts, at least according to news sources here, took place in Cairo. Cuba, however, is not Egypt, la Habana is not Cairo, and I don’t live in Cuba.
So I wish that sometime soon some Cuban youth will realize that the fight for freedom must be well planned and that it must come at the oppressors from all sides. When that youth aligns with the Habana resistance leaders and the two start campaigning all over Cuba, the fight will have truly started. And then…I will “like” their Facebook page, I will re-post, re-tweet, Wordpress, and whatever else, all their efforts. I will be there for them! My wish is that they’ll soon give me somewhere to be.
Miraisy Rodriguez was born in Santa Clara, but raised in Miami. She is a second year law student who likes to blog on her free time and volunteers with the Miami Roots’ Network. Her personal blog may be found at www.miraisy.com.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Reaching Their Fullness, Not Ours
By Miguel Cruz
This morning, I found myself on the World Youth Day 2011 website, realizing that that’s why a one-way flight to Madrid in August is over $2000 on American Airlines. On the front page was an article about John Paul II. Of course I had to click. I try to soak in as many articles that are written about, in my opinion, one of the most brilliant men that have ever walked this earth.
As I finished the article, still reflecting over a week later on the remarks of Archbishop Wenski in Boston, I reread the homily given by John Paul II in Havana on January 25, 1998. Reread it a few times actually. One part resonated in my head.
…liberation cannot be reduced to its social and political aspects, but rather reaches its fullness in the exercise of freedom of conscience…
I’m not going to pretend in any fashion that I can analyze writing. Probably more importantly, I should have made a disclaimer at the beginning of this post that I can’t actually write either. But that sentence… Wow. How did he do that? How did he inject hope into me with such simple words? And then, if I felt like that, how did the people in Jose Marti Plaza feel when they heard that in person?
Here is the irony. Although I find John Paul II as one of the most influential persons in my life, I do not find myself entirely connected to my Catholic upbringing. The reasons why are not relevant to this post. However, it does show the incredible reach of a simple man.
Whether you are religious or not, one thing is obvious. He’s right. Freedom of conscience is a fundamental human right that no man can ever deny another. The people of Cuba need to be reminded of this as much as possible.
They need to be reminded that they truly are the authors of their own future.
We can remind the Cuban people of that from wherever we are. What they do with that confidence is solely up to them.
Miguel Cruz moved to Dallas, TX from Cuba when he was 2 years old. After studying Aerospace Engineering at the University of Texas at Austin, he now resides in Ft. Worth, TX.
This morning, I found myself on the World Youth Day 2011 website, realizing that that’s why a one-way flight to Madrid in August is over $2000 on American Airlines. On the front page was an article about John Paul II. Of course I had to click. I try to soak in as many articles that are written about, in my opinion, one of the most brilliant men that have ever walked this earth.
As I finished the article, still reflecting over a week later on the remarks of Archbishop Wenski in Boston, I reread the homily given by John Paul II in Havana on January 25, 1998. Reread it a few times actually. One part resonated in my head.
…liberation cannot be reduced to its social and political aspects, but rather reaches its fullness in the exercise of freedom of conscience…
I’m not going to pretend in any fashion that I can analyze writing. Probably more importantly, I should have made a disclaimer at the beginning of this post that I can’t actually write either. But that sentence… Wow. How did he do that? How did he inject hope into me with such simple words? And then, if I felt like that, how did the people in Jose Marti Plaza feel when they heard that in person?
Here is the irony. Although I find John Paul II as one of the most influential persons in my life, I do not find myself entirely connected to my Catholic upbringing. The reasons why are not relevant to this post. However, it does show the incredible reach of a simple man.
Whether you are religious or not, one thing is obvious. He’s right. Freedom of conscience is a fundamental human right that no man can ever deny another. The people of Cuba need to be reminded of this as much as possible.
They need to be reminded that they truly are the authors of their own future.
We can remind the Cuban people of that from wherever we are. What they do with that confidence is solely up to them.
Miguel Cruz moved to Dallas, TX from Cuba when he was 2 years old. After studying Aerospace Engineering at the University of Texas at Austin, he now resides in Ft. Worth, TX.
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