Chair calls next panel; Minerva Diaz testifies on displacement

Okay, next panel, Madeline, Donald, Nilsa, Aviles, are y'all cousins?

Yesenia, Aviles, oh you got a whole bunch of cousins, and Minerva Diaz.

Is there a turn here?

No.

However you, yeah.

So I'm just going to get this going.

Do it.

Do it.

Deputy Speaker, Council, thank you for doing this and good seeing you again.

I know.

And Ms.

Alvarez, thank you for bringing these three resolutions to the table.

My name is Minerva Diaz.

Me llamo Minerva Diaz, born Minerva Ortiz.

I'm going to speak in English because my Spanish is not so great.

Okay, so my name is Minerva Diaz.

My mother came from Puerto Rico to Manhattan's Lower East Side with her family when she was 14.

My siblings and I are first generation born here in the States.

I didn't know about Resolution 494 until my cousin, Nelsa, shared it with me a few days ago via text.

My immediate response was, shall I meet you there?

Days earlier, we were here in Harlem celebrating the opening of my latest exhibition, Preciosa, My Mother, Her Island, inspired by the song Lo Que Le Pasó a Hawaii.

I had never heard that song before this year's Super Bowl halftime show.

The words tore through me, they broke my heart, and I couldn't shake them loose.

I understood the emotional depth of the song, but I didn't understand its connection to Hawaii until I began researching the parallels between Hawaii and Puerto Rico.

The loss of land,

displacement of local communities, and the fear of losing cultural identity.

Although my mother built her life here in the States, Puerto Rico never stopped being her home.

That is why Resolution 494 resonates so deeply with me.

And we don't have to look as far as

Hawaii or Puerto Rico to understand the consequences of displacement.

Right here on our own island of Manhattan, we have San Juan Hill, an 18 block black and brown community of approximately 7,000 residents and 800 business

that was uprooted in 1958 through eminent domain to build Lincoln Center and Fordham University's Manhattan campus.

Time expired.

There is currently a traveling exhibition, Afterlives of San Juan Hill, documenting what happened to that community.

It is on view at Fordham University.

At the museum till October 4th.

I encourage everyone to see.

And I'm gonna end with this.

Today as we discuss the Project Essencia, the history raises an important question.

What have we learned and how do we ensure that voices of existing communities here heard before decisions are made that could permanently change their lives, homes, and identities?

Thank you for the time.