FCYU-Feature Story

Check All That Apply
I'm keeping my Taino heritage alive

By Destiny Frasqueri

Whenever I come to the “Ethnicity” box of an application, or a test I’m filling out, I “check all that apply”: Latino and Native American.

And whenever someone asks, “What are you?” I tell them I am Puerto Rican and Taino.

The Taino Indians are a subgroup of the Arwakan Indians, who were the first people to live in Puerto Rico, then known as Boriken. The Taino were a thriving people with a distinguished language and culture before being conquered by Christopher Columbus and his trail of Spanish conquistadors through the 15th and 16th centuries.

When people call me “Spanish,” I correct them and say, “No, I am not from Spain, therefore I am not Spanish.” I refuse to be called Hispanic or Spanish, because those are just labels used to (incorrectly) describe Latin American people. “Spanish-speaking” is not the same as Spanish.

There are over 20 countries in Latin America, each one with its own distinct history, culture, and people. Why should I be thrown in a category that contradicts the diversity, distinction, and history of all Latin American people?

What I Am

I am a descendent of an indigenous (native) tribe, so why not acknowledge what I biologically am? My mother (who died when I was 2) and her parents had the high, strong cheekbones and copper skin of indigenous Tainos. The woman who raised me, just by coincidence, also has Taino blood. She introduced me to the Wanakan nation, a Taino group based in New York, when I was 8.

The nation is a group that celebrates and passes down traditional Taino culture. It has a chief, called a cacique, and many sub-chiefs. When I was little, my foster mother and my uncle and I went on family camping trips to Bear Mountain, in upstate New York, with the nation. In the morning we’d watch the sun rise, and later the group would do ceremonial dances in a field.

When I was 12, my sister and I started going every Saturday to a school in Manhattan where we’d embroider Taino cloth and make Taino jewelry with shells and beads. We also learned some Taino language and hieroglyphics. Sometimes the Wanakan nation would host other indigenous nations, including the Cherokee and Aztec, and everyone would share their dances. Once we did a presentation for the United Nations.

When I formally joined the nation, the cacique gave me the name Kudwabo Kamauito, which means “rising sun.” A few years ago, I was made tekina, the lead dancer, in the aryeto, an annual celebration. Being Taino gave me great pride in who I was, and a sense of identity, even when I was a little girl.

Uncovering Hidden History

I almost never find anything about Tainos in school textbooks, and I feel excluded from world history. I don’t understand why Taino is missing. It’s not the lost city of Atlantis. There are plenty of books, artifacts in museums, and Taino nations keeping the culture alive. So why is it constantly excluded from the works that include other South American civilizations such as the Aztec, the Maya, the Inca, and the Olmec?

Indigenous people throughout the Americas have been robbed of their culture. A lot of people don’t realize that Puerto Rico has had its identity taken and tampered with for over 500 years. Spanish conquistadors enslaved its natives and raped its women. The Tainos were forced to speak Spanish and convert to Catholicism. They were robbed of their culture, and a lot of them who refused to assimilate into Spanish culture hid in the hills so they wouldn’t be killed.

I can’t stop countries from invading other countries, but I advocate for the Tainos in my own way. I keep my culture alive by incorporating it in my everyday life. I educate people when I tell them about my culture. I teach myself Taino words, so I can teach them to my children when I have a family. Immersing myself in Taino culture means it can never leave me and my thoughts.

I hope to advocate for Taino rights when I’m older: I’d like to start by changing Columbus Day to a holiday celebrating indigenous people. In the meantime, upholding my culture is a form of advocacy, because I’m telling a story that’s been covered up.

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