I want people to take pride in Spanish Harlem. These are people that everyone in the community could relate to... people who mean something special to us.
This is your heritage,' he said, as if from this dance we could know about his own childhood, about the flavor and grit of tenement buildings in Spanish Harlem, and projects in Red Hook, and dance halls, and city parks, and about how his own Paps, how he had beat him, how he taught him to dance, as if we could hear Spanish in his movements, as if Puerto Rico was a man in a bathrobe, grabbing another beer from the fridge and raising it to drink, his head back, still dancing, still steeping and snapping perfectly in time.
As a Latino growing up in Spanish harlem, it's not easy trying not to be hot-headed.
We had the skirts with the slits up the side, sort of tough, sort of Spanish Harlem cool, but sweet too.
I'd love to go to art school. I'd love to learn how to draw. I'd love to be fluent in Spanish. I'd like to be a brain surgeon.
I look around me and I don’t see any rock’n’roll at the moment. Instead it’s all choreography and stylists and wigs and stuff. It’s like they’re afraid to let the music breathe. No one has their own identity like the Ronettes did back in the day. We had the skirts with the slits up the side, sort of tough, sort of Spanish Harlem cool, but sweet too. We didn’t have no dancers, we didn’t have no goddamn wigs.
After years of research, scientists recently reported that there is, indeed, arroz in Spanish Harlem. A full tongue and an empty brain are seldom parted.
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