Chapter Text
Red. Rojo. It hung on nearly every wall in the neighbourhood - Usnavi saw the hue in the beautiful painting of the Cuban flag flying in Abuela’s apartment. She hung it right in the centre of her space, demanding attention from anyone who entered. She refused to let this part of her be forgotten - the part so closely entwined with her mother. Usnavi felt drawn to it - something about the brightness of that little triangle’s hue caught his attention and did not let it go. He was glad Abuela was proud of where she came from, and did not choose to forget the difficulties of the forgotten in Cuba. “Blood,” she told him, “It is the blood of those who fought for the freedom of my country, and it is the passion one should feel for their homeland. Alza la bandera, Usnavi, and be proud of where you came from. It is a gift.” He took this to heart. He made sure to hang a Dominican flag behind his counter the next day.
Camila displayed red on her wall too. She loved to cook - the tiny woven Puerto Rican flag took pride of place above her dining table. Kevin was never one for sharing his love for his country - the way he saw it, all it offered him was the life of his father, the red of the communism and of the flor de maga taunting him while he worked tirelessly on the fields. No, Kevin did not like the red above his table. But Camila remembered what Puerto Rico had done for her. Her homeland had raised her, nourished her, until finally she was ready to let go and jump into the busy city life of Nueva York. The red represented her love for where she came from, a love she hoped to instill in her daughter. “Nina,” she told her quietly one day, “This flag is small. But it is important. Because it represents us and all we’ve done and all we can look forward to doing. Do not listen to your father. He no longer sees the love in red, only the anger. If you had never seen Manhattan, who would you be? The red reminds you of where you come from, but also remember where you are going, mi vida, for red is the colour of Stanford. You are so much better for merging our worlds.” Nina wasn’t sure about that, but she knew red would be her goal - both Puerto Rico and California.
Daniela knew the significance of red in her life. Through her fragmented childhood, her brightest memories surrounded Christmas - tacky lights shining crimson. But what she noticed more was the way it drew the community together. No matter who you were, where you were from, the reds, whites and blues of Cuba, Puerto Rico and the Dominican Republic all converged in their new red, white and blue palette of the United States of America. Though red meant something different to all in her community, to Daniela it meant the community. This one tint unified them all - their struggles, their highs, and their community here in Washington Heights, where a red flag hung from every balcony. So for the 4th of July, she chose a red dress. A toast to the past, the present, and the future.
Alza la bandera.