It’s almost never easy to leave home—especially when that decision is made for you by circumstances beyond your control. And for many immigrants, the journey from their place of origin to the United States is a bittersweet one. There is simultaneously an appreciation for new opportunities coupled with a sadness about the things and people left behind. For Puerto Ricans who are leaving the island, especially because of Hurricane Maria, there is a similar sentiment. Of course, they are already American citizens so they are not emigrating by moving to the mainland. But they are leaving a distinct culture, traditions, language and experiences that will be sorely missed when they leave their beloved island behind.
Because of a long-standing financial crisis, the number of Puerto Ricans who have moved to the mainland for employment, family reunification and other reasons has been steadily on the rise. Hurricane Maria just hastened this pattern.
Even before Maria strafed the region, a record number of Puerto Ricans were realizing that the declining island might be where their heart is but cannot be where their feet stay. Nearly 500,000 people left Puerto Rico for the mainland during the past decade, according to the Pew Research Center, pushing the stateside Puerto Rican population past the number living on the island last year — an estimated 3.3 million.
The government of Puerto Rico’s guess is that by the end of 2018, 200,000 more residents will have left the U.S. territory for good, moving to places such as Florida, New York, Texas, Pennsylvania, New Jersey and New England. It would mean another drop of more than 5 percent in the island’s population.
A lot of those who have left the island are young people with degrees and burgeoning careers who, unfortunately, do not see staying on the island as sustainable financially. Others may be parents who feel that they cannot afford to raise school-aged children in the uncertainty of the recovery and wait out what might happen on the island post-Maria. Currently, two-thirds of schools on the island have power. But that doesn’t mean all is well. Many schools only have power a few days a week—resulting in frequent disruptions and an environment that hinders students’ learning potential. Additionally, in February, the governor announced a plan to close more than 300 schools and privatize others. This has not gone over well with parents and and teachers who say that they were not involved in any discussions with government officials about education reform.
The infrastructure situation also remains challenging. At present, there are approximately 150,000 homes and business that remain without power (or 11 percent of the island) and outages continue to occur with frequency. And with the many scandals facing PREPA (the Puerto Rican Power Authority) and the government plan to privatize that company as well, it looks unlikely to stabilize anytime soon.
The island’s bankrupt public utility has struggled to restore power amid contracting scandals, material shortages and intermittent blackouts, and the biggest restoration contractor, Fluor Corp., confirmed that it is pulling out of Puerto Rico in the next several weeks after reaching the funding limit of its $746 million contract.
The governor announced plans last month to privatize the electric utility, sparking standoffs with unionized workers and arousing suspicions from residents. Some municipalities such as San Sebastian, a town in the island’s northwest corner, didn’t wait and formed their own volunteer brigades to string up power lines and return electricity to thousands of residents.
Others have decided to wait it out—no matter what happens. When I traveled to the island of Vieques in late January, both natives of Puerto Rico and transplants living there seemed positive that things would get better and displayed a sense of resilience, determination and passion for the place that they call home. Eva Bolivar, owner of Restaurante Bili, lost nearly everything in the storm. But she decided to keep busy and give back to her community by joining Chef Jose Andres’s World Central Kitchen and Chefs for Puerto Rico. This meant opening up her restaurant’s kitchen (even though the restaurant had been badly damaged in the storm) in order to cook meals for local residents. At their peak, Eva and her volunteer chefs and drivers were preparing and delivering 1,400 meals a day. When I asked people about their lives post-storm, every single person I talked to insisted on staying where they are. Eva specifically said “This is my home. I’m not going anywhere.” This was a sentiment shared by those I talked to in San Juan as well. Puerto Ricans are passionate about their island and they are consistently stepping up to help one another out. When I talked to a group of people at a restaurant in San Juan, one told me “It’s ordinary people who are helping. It’s like we’ve all been deputized as rescuers.”
For those who have chosen to leave, there is uncertainty about what the future will bring. People are slowly but surely preparing themselves for a move, or have moved already, but are not clear on whether the change will be temporary or permanent.
Victor Dominguez set a June deadline for his island. If Puerto Rico doesn’t get the lights back on and move the economy, the mortgage banker will take his family elsewhere.
“I am very attached to my island, and my preference is to stay here, but I have to think what’s best for my son,” the 39-year-old said. “I’m in a moment in which I have to be very observant about what’s happening and be flexible.”
In spite of all of the instability and transition, the hearts of Puerto Ricans remain strong and tied to the island. And some who left in the days and weeks are slowly returning—feeling an inexplicable pull back home. Carla Lopez and her husband are two of these people. They own a business in San Juan which provides space for local entrepreneurs to develop their own small enterprises. They went to Orlando after the storm and began a plan to rebuild their lives there. And then something happened. In an interview with The Washington Post, Lopez describes a moment when she realized being at home was her fate and her family went back.
While she was shopping at a farmers market, she realized her heart was still in Puerto Rico.
“What am I doing here?” she said. “I felt bad being there knowing what was happening back home.”
She and her husband decided to return to San Juan and give the business six months to see if they could rebound. [...]
“We have a social responsibility to provide this space,” Lopez said. “This is ours, this is our baby, and if we don’t fight for it, who will?”
Lopez, her husband and many others may be returning to fight for their island but an important question remains. What will they be going back to? With schools still not up to speed, crumbling infrastructure, an increase in suicides and an impending water crisis, the only thing certain about the future of Puerto Rico is that it faces more uncertainty. As grave as the situation is, a better future is still possible. And if anyone has the fierce determination, tenacity and courage to make it happen, it’s Puerto Ricans themselves.
To read how some women are doing their part to help transform the island, click here.
And to donate to organizations on the ground and that offer mental health services to Puerto Ricans, click here.