Shadia Almasri shares her thoughts on the

The journey to our past through Aloha Boricua was one of discovery and rediscovery.  If I would have to explain who my character is throughout the play I would have to say that it is definitely one of many dimensions.  At first I was going to be Queen Liliuokalani: the last monarch of Hawaii before the invasion of the United States took place in 1893.  As rehearsals continued my character began to redefine itself as a narrator and conscience of the plot.  I would say that she is, in many ways, more related to Chu than to Queen Lili but she also maintains that sense of entitlement and power as if she were a queen.  Her narration is done mostly through music and song as opposed to Chu and Monsserate which use, in most part, verbal narration to drive the story. Her feelings towards the journey of the Puerto Ricans to Hawaii are one of justification.  In other words, she feels that all of this needed to happen so that the sense of nationalism would reach its maximum potential which is no matter where you are where or where you end up in life, geographically or emotionally speaking…la patria eres tú.

I really did not understand what migration meant until I decided to move to this city a couple of years ago.  Growing up in Puerto Rico, I really never new what it meant to be a minority or to have to constantly prove yourself as anything more than an individual.  Once I moved to New York I automatically was labeled as many things, without even choosing to do so.  All of a sudden I was a 20-something-single-puertorican-singing-studying-arabic-non New Yorker-musician-performer-trying to make it in the big apple-dudette. And I saw myself forced to prove myself against or in favor of these self or auto imposed stigmas.  This city forces you to question who you are on a daily basis and I guess I have gotten use to that by now; but it was quite an imposition when I first got here.

As I began to meet this regal type narrator through “Aloha Boricua”, my concept of nationalism and migration began to change, if it was ever defined to begin with.  Who you, we, or they are is something that humbly changes from time to time. But Queen Lili helped me deal with the resentment of the past. She has helped me understand that history is greatly responsible of whom we are and if anyone is proud of whom they are, they have to embrace their journey instead of resenting it.

I am, as many, a product of two cultures.  My father (RIP) was Syrian and my mother is Puerto Rican.  They both met in Spain during their college years. They moved to USA shortly after getting married and I was born in Gainesville, Florida.  When I was 5 years old, I and my mother moved to Puerto Rico where I was raised until I moved to New York. Getting to know Flor, Pura, Manuel, Chu and Monserrate has played an important part in this ever-changing, never-ending migration story perspective and journey of mine. From Manuel I could see the innocence and the optimism I once had and hope to never lose when confronted with change and challenges.  I hope to keep and continue to be inspired by Pura’s integrity, commitment and leadership.  Flor’s strength and courage will always remind me of my mother’s and many mothers’ unconditional love and faith in their children. I will always be cautious of how history can surprise you, confuse you, and amuse you just how Chu does throughout the play. And I will always honor and respect the wisdom and history that decorate Monserrate’s lips with every word that he says. Thanks to “Aloha Boricua” I will keep reminding myself to always listen to the voice that tells me to never stop my course “…siento una voz que me dice, nunca detengas tu rumbo, siento una voz que repite, busca siempre donde laborar”.

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