Fabiola Santiago writes at the Miami Herald what the death of dictator Fidel Castro means for many Cuban-Americans who have taken refuge in the United States from his brutal regime:
I was born the same year the Cuban Revolution triumphed. I was 10 years old when I left Cuba on a Freedom Flight in 1969 with parents who paid dearly for my freedom and future. I’m a grandmother now. That’s how long Fidel Castro has maintained his grip on Cuba, first as self-anointed despot, then after he ceded the throne to his brother, as symbol.
This is an iconic moment. Generations of Cubans, Cuban-Americans and our children in Miami, capital of exiles, are celebrating his physical erasure with an ardor reserved for World Series and NBA titles. Behold this hashtag on social media: #myabuelitosarehavingapartyinheaven.
Don’t judge us harshly. Give us this moment. Our exile is his doing. There’s no RIP from us for the embodiment of evil in our collective and personal histories.
Read the rest of the story at the Miami Herald.