CRUZ CONTROL
Hi, I'm Rubén
WHERE I COME FROM
A Tapestry of Resilience: A Puerto Rican Family in New York
I grew up in this “All American” neighborhood where I struggled to be accepted. My family originates from Puerto Rico. Like many women of her generation, my mother sacrificed her education at 14 to join the workforce alongside my grandmother and aunt in a textile factory. This "piece work" sustained our family.
She later met and married my father, raising my brother and me. Their divorce in the late 1960s, a time marked by social change and upheaval, coincided with a nascent rise in divorce rates – a stark contrast to the one-in-250 statistic of the past. As a single mother, we navigated the welfare system, but financial hardship never overshadowed the spirit of resilience instilled in us by my mother, a master at resourceful living.
At the age of seven, we relocated from Brooklyn to Queens. Though just a few subway stops away, the move felt like a vast migration. I grappled with a pronounced lisp and stutter, finding solace in the support of a dedicated speech therapist.
Our family was the sole Puerto Rican presence in the neighborhood, and I, with my darker complexion, stood out even more. Bullying and altercations became a daily routine, landing me frequently in the principal's office, accused of "initiating" conflicts against overwhelming odds. Despite being outnumbered and physically attacked, I displayed unwavering determination, refusing to surrender despite the taunts and physical injuries.
One particularly harrowing experience involved being swarmed by ten students in the schoolyard. The chaotic melee resulted in minimal physical harm, but the complicity of the security guard, a grinning witness who offered no intervention, remains a haunting memory. More disturbing was the anonymous act of cruelty – a deliberate step on my outstretched hand, a symbolic act of oppression delivered under the indifferent gaze of authority. Predictably, blame fell upon me, resulting in another suspension for "inciting" a fight.
The emotional toll was immense. The color of my skin became a source of deep self-loathing. Witnessing my struggle, my family felt a profound sense of helplessness. My father, determined to counteract these experiences, introduced me to figures from our heritage.
Weekends were filled with excursions to museums and parks, exposing me to the wonders of the city and fostering a sense of cultural pride.
A gradual shift began to take shape. The neighborhood demographics evolved, welcoming families from diverse backgrounds – Guyana, Pakistan – a microcosm of the city's rich tapestry. Sunday afternoons were a sensory delight, infused with the aroma of sizzling Italian fare from one neighbor's kitchen, intermingling with the fragrant curried oxtail stew from another.
One pivotal moment arrived when my father introduced me to Herman Badillo, a pioneering Puerto Rican politician, during his campaign. Seeing him, a man who shared my heritage, holding such a prominent position, was a transformative experience. It shattered the limitations imposed by societal prejudice and ignited a spark of self-acceptance.
As our neighborhood grew and matured, so too did our understanding and acceptance of each other. The adversity we faced ultimately forged a stronger sense of community, a testament to the enduring power of resilience.
Welfare, Work, and Self-Discovery
The topic of welfare reform has remained surprisingly static in public discourse since the 1970s. During a high school debate class, I had the opportunity to disrupt this inertia. With a deep breath, I revealed to my classmates that my family relied on welfare assistance. The ensuing silence and the shift in their expressions were palpable. This experience underscored the social stigma attached to such realities in that era, where certain truths, like being on welfare, LGBTQ+ identity, or socioeconomic background, were rarely openly discussed.
Meeting their gaze, I spoke with pride about my mother's resourcefulness in raising our family. I recounted how we bartered with our landlord, trading building upkeep and garbage duty for a reduced rent. At fourteen, I secured a work permit, a gateway to jobs like sweeping at a lumberyard or sorting wires at an electrician's office. My classmates absorbed this information silently until the class bell finally broke the tension.
The teacher later commended my courage, a sentiment that resonated deeply. While the revelation felt more like a statement of truth than an act of bravery, it solidified a core principle: unwavering advocacy for truth, then and now.
Years later, a twist of fate placed me as a homeowner directly across the street from my elementary school, P.S. 62. One neighbor turned out to be a former classmate. Remarkably, our past experiences never resurfaced in conversation. It seemed the bullying and prejudice of our youth were relics of a bygone era, replaced by a more mature understanding.
The path to harmonious co-existence is rarely smooth, but we persevere – living, learning, and growing together. This is the evolving tapestry of the American neighborhood, a source of immense pride for me.
In 2006, I transitioned from corporate America to entrepreneurship, alongside my wife. Our consulting firm supports non-profit organizations in healthcare, wellness, arts, and cultural programs, with a focus on serving seniors and children. We currently collaborate with over a dozen senior centers, the Department of Education, and the Department of Parks and Recreation. Furthermore, I've partnered with city council members on senior and child-centered initiatives. Our documentary, "Echoes in a Glass," exploring the lives of seniors during COVID-19, garnered recognition, with NY-1 awarding me "New Yorker of the Week" honors for my work with the elderly.
Despite ideological differences – my next-door neighbor, a CPA and Progressive Democrat, and my neighbor across the street, a Steel Workers Union member and Conservative Republican – a core value transcends political divides on our block: neighborliness. During the last snowfall, the latter selflessly cleared both our sidewalks and driveways, exemplifying the pragmatic spirit that binds us. In return, my neighbor with financial expertise offered pro bono assistance with a complex business tax issue. Similarly, I've lent a hand with repairs to both their front doors. These acts illustrate a fundamental truth: on our block, in our district, community takes precedence over partisan politics.
However, the current socio-political landscape demands a fresh perspective. The traditional political rhetoric no longer resonates with the challenges we face. Our focus must shift toward practical solutions – navigating the complexities of work, ensuring our children's well-being, and safeguarding our vulnerable elderly population. Alarmingly, rising property taxes and predatory scams are jeopardizing the homes of seniors in our community.
The strength of our neighborhood lies in its interconnectedness. As neighbors, we have a shared responsibility to support one another – nurturing our children and protecting our seniors. Our rich tapestry of cultures and religions is a defining characteristic of the "New American Neighborhood," a vibrant community that deserves unwavering dedication. This is my home, my workplace, and the place where I choose to remain committed and engaged.
