In 1961, my father, 21 year-old Edgar Sopo, put down his books, picked-up a rifle, and risked his life in the Bay of Pigs invasion. Just two years before, his father, my grandfather, died as a political prisoner at the hands of a revolution he...
In 1960, four years after emigrating from Cuba, my father, Carlos Palacio, and his family visited Cuba for the first time since they settled in Hialeah; they drove down to the Keys and boarded a car ferry that floated them across the Florida Straits to...
Mi padre me ha enseñado que hay que apreciar, respetar y conectar con mi cultura y mi historia. My father left Cuba in the Mariel boatlift of 1980, in which as many as 120,000 Cubans made a traumatic exodus to the United States. He was born...
We spent an afternoon taking photos in the new Little Havana, a neighborhood that has welcomed Miami’s working class and immigrants for 80 years now, from white to black to Cuban to Honduran. Photos are set to Richard Blanco’s poem ‘La Revolución at Antonio’s Mercado’ Para la...