Yes, we are still celebrating.
Some people consider it tacky to rejoice in the death of what some people around the world are calling a great leader.
Apparently, those people never lived in Cuba.
Apparently, these people did not bury too many souls who left this earth waiting for a free Cuba.
The fallen dictator of my island home brought nothing resembling positivity or redemption in his quest for revolution.
His misguided journey on the ego bus has led to a very literate country who literally have to eat their words because sustenance is scarce.
His even further unrelenting followers have left an island in infrastructure ruin as they isolated themselves from the rest of humanity.
His populace follows the majority rule and the majority rule is daily survival.
He displaced an entire generation of Cubans who had to find solace on borrowed soil, he displaced my family and he displaced me.
I’m not complaining. I am taking every iota of gratitude from my being and enveloping myself in my beautiful American flag – but I regret deeply not knowing my homeland.
That loss I owe to the man upon whose death I place no grief.
The loss to his family is but a fragment of the loss to the thousands of families who abandoned their homes, reinvented their livelihoods, lost their identity, were robbed of their integrity and relinquished their pride when forced to embrace a life in exile.
So, we celebrate. Some more overzealous than others, but the joy is the same.
Our behavior is not tacky.
We are happy.
We are glad he is dead.
If you had our history and our stories, you would be glad too.