The situation in Puerto Rico: A resident details the devastation and desperation

“Here, on the island you can smell the desperation in the air with that pungent hint of upcoming panic.
It feels like for some very key people in power might as well leave us here to die.”

— Diana Soto, Puerto Rico

Each summer, I volunteer to help out at an event called Yaa Halla, Y’All, a four-day convention, for lack of a better word, for belly dancers and musicians from around the world that includes, workshops, competitions and shows.
This summer, I had the chance to meet a young woman from Puerto Rico named Diana Soto. She was an amazing dancer and I was happy to add her to my Facebook friends list. Over the course of the last week and a half, I have been watching carefully for her updates from her home in Puerto Rico, wanting to make sure that she and others made it through the wrath of Hurricane Maria.
At first, Diana’s Facebook posts were upbeat, hopeful and determined — it was a horrible situation, she would say, but she and those with her were alive and were going to be ok.
But Thursday night, Sept. 28, that changed. Diana Soto is alive; she is determined. But she is also tired, wavering on the edge of defeat, unable to comprehend why the U.S. government and President Trump have seemingly turned their backs on the people of Puerto Rico.
With her permission, I am sharing with you her post from Sept. 28, to allow her eloquence to hopefully bring home to everyone who sees this the true depth and scope of the devastation — and the despair — the people are Puerto Rico are facing. Because maybe enough people know, enough people will speak up and DEMAND that they get the help they so desperately need.
Diana Soto, about 9 p.m. CST Thursday, Sept. 28:

I am tired. Dead tired. Every day here feels like an epic mission. Getting groceries, getting gas, getting cash … . Since there’s no electricity and almost no communications, everything is cash only. For the past 3 days I haven’t seen drinking water available anywhere. And then I read about Trump, talking about the debt and I … I can’t.

I see how shipping restrictions were lifted quickly for Texas and Florida but for us it took an eternity, lots of pressure and in the end, restrictions were lifted for only 10 days. I mean, I’m happy it got lifted; I hope the pressure keeps on, and I am thankful to those that have lobbied for fair treatment for Puerto Rico and fast emergency relief. But I had never lived the violence of savage capitalism and racism so directly on such a life-threatening, institutionalized scale. Here, on the island you can smell the desperation in the air with that pungent hint of upcoming panic. It feels like some very key people in power might as well leave us here to die.

We are strong. And generous. From day one we went to the streets and started cleaning up and helping each other. But please, fancy people in power, don’t make it even harder for us and for the thousands that have sent help, and want to keep on helping, to do this.

Today for the first time I was able to have reliable internet access for a while and I read and read. And saw pictures. And pretty much got a grasp of things on a macro level for the first time. I knew the level of destruction was incredibly high. I saw it in my neighborhood; I saw it in my family, some of whom have lost their homes. But when you realize the scale of it, and how it is being prolonged and augmented by neglect, choosing twitter wars over concrete actions and pretty much making it hard for the incredible outflow of help that you guys have sent to make it here fast enough to the people who need it … .

l guess this is what the institutionalization of violence feels like.

This is not a news clip. This is not an academic paper, nor a hypothetical, theoretical speech. This is not a Ph.D thesis topic. People live and die by this shit — by the violence of racism and of capitalism gone savage.

I know I am lucky. I am alive. Thus far my friends, students and family (the ones accounted for) are all alive. I get to write to you. I get to feel connected a bit. I have friends literally flying from the U.S. to bring us and others things in their personal luggage because the government (FEMA, the feds, PR politicians, who knows?) is not distributing things efficiently. But most people here don’t. Drinking water, food, a viable means of transportation and connection — people need these things.

And I just feel squashed by it all.

I will get up. We all will. I will dance again. We will dance again and soon. We shall not be squashed like bugs, discarded as unimportant and cumbersome trash. We are alive and we will STAY alive. We shall overcome and we shall THRIVE.

But tonight I’ll be honest, I’m on the floor. Tired as fuck.