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THE WARRIOR
The Invisible Boricua Indian
By Master Sergeant James "Running Fox" Lopez
United States Air Force: Retired & Elder of Taino Turabo Aymaco Tribe
Our relatives and ancestors have been warriors since time serves us. The only relative to die was a cousin who at 19 years of age, was killed in Vietnam. He need not have gone to Vietnam, because he was the only male survivor of his clan. We had none of that. When called, we served. If not called, we volunteered.
I remember an incident in 1952. In uniform I entered a bar in a city in Wyoming. There was a sign right behind the bartender that read, "Indians will not be served." There existed a law at that time in the state of Wyoming that Indians were prohibited from being served any kind of alcoholic beverage. This included beer. Without knowing my name, nor asking what ethnic background I was, the answer was always, "You must leave now."
Depending on who was looking at me, people would try to guess my nationality. Greek some would say, no! French, yeah, dark haired Frenchman. Still others would say, "Italian." Many who knew the Mexican people would say, he looks Mexican, but has the wrong accent. When I would say, "I was born in New York City," some would laugh. There are no Indians in New York City. Most were killed off by the English and Dutch. Those that survived were shipped out west, to join the Indians of the plains. "Don't you know that?" Once, when I visited Blackman Arkansas, the town Preacher came to me and said, "Welcome to our town." "I know who you are because I held a sermon in New York." "You are a Seneca Indian." I agreed politely rather than the Preacher lose face among his public. Yet, he was the only person I met who came closer to revealing my true Identity.
On another occasion, when some recognized my name as being Spanish, they would guess I was from Texas, New Mexico, Oklahoma, Arizona, or Nevada. When I told them I was from New York City, they would laugh out loud. "You are funny" they uttered. "There are no Mexicans in New York City." "Heck, any dummy knows that." I found it best to refrain from talking about my heritage. I became the Invisible Taino Indian and or the invisible Boricua.
I tried telling some Air Force friends of mine that I was not Mexican. That I was what today is known as a Puerto Rican. "Oh yeah, we did not know that." Later I heard the same Airman tell his friend that I was Portuguese. I had no idea that Puerto Ricans were not known outside the city limits of New York. Those who heard the name thought we were immigrants from the banana boat. They had no idea we were born Americans. In reality, they cared less.
The Air Force was not a place to meet any Indians or Puerto Ricans. If Indians existed, they, like myself, remained invisible. I found it was easier to make friends by not talking about Indians and or Puerto Ricans. One must remember, we are talking about a time when all you needed to get into the military is to make an X. In my outfit, there were only four High School graduates. I, the First Sergeant, our Squadron Commander, and a young 2nd Lt. pilot. All other officers and men did not have their High School Sheep Skins. There were 200 men assigned. That my friend, was the new Air Force.
During the Korean War I was stationed in what is called today, Morocco. It was a Depot Wing. We supplied Items of war to the Koreans, Vietnamese, and French. At that time three wars were going on. Korea, Indo China, and the revolution in French Morocco. I was one of a few men ever awarded the Presidential Vietnam Citation. We were awarded the Korean service medal, and the National Defense medal in French Morocco. All on the same day.
I did do a second tour of Vietnam, as a going home for retirement present. Overall, I can say my time in the military was not bad. I did make new friends, I have no Spanish accent, so that helped not being asked over and over, "Where do I come from." As the years passed, more and more integration occurred. Men were starting to respect one another. The laws about mixing of marriages were stroked down. Civil disobedience and protest was calming down. Strike teams to stop what was to be a black revolution were disbanded. Indians can drink in bars. Black people can drink out of water fountains located about the town and or parks.
I can go on and on, but there is not much we can do to bring the reality of the times to life. It is almost like a Fairy tale, today. You know something, I think we invisible Indians have been seen, here and there.
Bless you,
Running Fox
Taino Turabo Aymaco Tribe
Elder
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