There is a very real pain that comes from watching Air Force One touch down in Havana.
There is real sorrow and heartache in witnessing the President of the United States pause for a photo op in front of a mural of the communist revolutionary (and false folk hero), Che Guevara.
Anger is stirred upon hearing our President warmly address the despotic leaders of the communist enclave to our South and bitter frustration bitten back as Raul Castro lies through his teeth about the righteousness of his rule.
The entire drama stinks of rotten promises, decaying dreams and grotesque repression. It’s a knife to the soul of Cuban-Americans everywhere, which is why an almost audible groan can be heard coming from our adopted capital in South Florida.
I don’t know if the Cuban embargo was the “right” answer for our foreign policy with Cuba. I believe in free trade, with everyone, so I lean towards the side of ending the embargo. I don’t know if we’ve been right to do our very best to cloister Cuba and cut off the backwards little nation for so many years, but I believe in the right of every nation to self-rule, so I think it was likely a misguided effort.
What I do know? With every ounce of my being I know that the Castro regime was, is, and always will be evil, repressive, monstrous, and deserving of destruction. Which is why it is so painful to watch our spineless Commander-in-Chief waddle off of his plush plane, stand in front of the gathered media smiling his big smile and waving his awkwardly obtuse wave while standing on the soil my father’s father fled.
My family’s blood lay under Obama’s big patent leather feet. My forbears’ bones groan beneath the weight of his haughty laugh. My tears roll big and fat down my woolen and dusky cheeks, cheeks made ruddy, not by laboring in the sugarcane fields but by the generations of work before me. The pain my parents suffered screams from within my spirit.
And what does our President do?…
Read the full article by Onan Coca at EagleRising.