My, my, where do I even start? The Quarter Rican was by far the most unique play I’ve ever been to.  The sounds, the lighting, the set design, it was all such an amazing experience. Courtesy of the Puerto Rican Traveling Theater, just off the side on 47th street and 8th avenue, nestled right into the Theater District. It looks so nice and cozy on the outside, and it gets even better on the inside. It used to be a firefighter station, but got closed down soon after, which definitely explains how so much can fit into what I initially thought was a repurposed apartment building.
Anyway, back to the play. It follows the story of a half Puerto-Rican man named Danny, who is concerned about his son’s future, who happens to be, Quarter Rican. He worries about how he can teach his son about his heritage without forcing it onto him, so that his child knows his roots and knows his culture. And throughout the entire show he is reassured that he will be fine, creating his own, “Puerto Rican starter kit” from which he will draw upon once his baby grows older than one and so.
I love the lesson that Quarter Rican teaches about identity, about not being afraid to be yourself and not being afraid of passing on the culture running through your blood and soul. I love how freshly it depicts the struggle of being different and having to live with it, and making the most of it, for yourself and for your children. I love the musical numbers, “La ballada de Pablo” being one of my favorites, though to be honest, they were all great. I also loved how on the wall behind the entire show were captions, but they were in the opposite language the people on stage were speaking. If they were speaking English, the captions were Spanish, and the other way around. That’s so cool.
This play was so great to see.

On our class trip to the Tenement Museum, we had dived into the well-preserved life of the Levines, who at that time would have been no one special. Just another family stuffed into an apartment on Orchard Street, all 7 of them in various stages of development. Funny enough, there were exactly seven of us who managed to make it to the tour, so we got an accurate depiction of what it would be like stepping over one another trying to get to each vantage point. I was completely enamored with every tiny detail, from the cloths from where two hired girls would sew and prepare frills and lace for dresses, to the repurposed barrels and crates for what I’m pretty sure were biscuits, to the little table which contained breads and jars and kettles, and a little book on if memory serves was a government handbook of some sort, sorry if not. But above it all I loved how I could stand in the midst of all the relatively peaceful proceedings of everyone observing what they were, and imagine just how loud it would’ve been in this little place. Between the sounds of the treadle sewing machine, the sounds of the stalls and haggling and the buying just outside the window in the street below, the sound of a mother cooking food, a child frustrated in their crib, it all coalesces into an image I can’t help but not love. It was a life for them, and for them it worked out.

Also I can’t not help but mention this. So, at I think 1902, the price of kosher meat was raised to an uncomfortable amount, and many Jewish wives went out into the streets to protest. Notable events included someone throwing a brick through a butchery window and a police officer slapped in the face by a piece of meat, that I think was beef.

On the class trip to the Museum of the City of New York, I found myself in awe that this city had so much history packed into it, a history of change, of people fighting for better lives. What I noticed was that each exhibit (which mind you all of which was neatly organized into one single room) had a tablet on which was written a timeline of each major event to happen for each and every movement, or series of changes. What struck me about that was that as we went further and further into the exhibit, all these timelines began to overlap. They began to overlap more and more and more till the point where I began to imagine all these people fighting for their rights, for justice, and for everything they needed, they fought shoulder to shoulder in the annals of history. And more likely than not they probably did. They probably did go to support each other at their protests. They probably did have common interests because more rights for one means that there is precedent for another to receive their own. And upon such an avalanche of progress we have, we are, and we will continue to push for a better future for everyone. I hope.
Also, I will add that the tour was such an amazing experience, I learned so much and that I would love to go see their other tours if I find the time.

Sorry for the camera angle.