On April 4, 1980 a group of Puerto Rican Freedom Fighters, members of the FALN (Fuerzas Armadas para la Liberación Nacional or Armed Forces of National Liberation) were arrested in the u.s. and charged with sedition. They each received differing sentences, some at even 50 years to be served in state and federal institutions. Dylcia Pagan was one of those women. I didn't know at the time because I was five years old when it happened. As I grew up, enjoying my childhood, other children my age lived without their parents, who were imprisoned for their involvement to secure their nation's national right to freedom. Once such child, being raised as Ernesto Gomez Gomez in Mexico did not learn until the age of 10 that he was the son of Dylcia Pagan, incarcerated in California at the time, and of William Morales, another Puerto Rican freedom fighter who escaped from a hospital after his arrest and continues to live in exile in Cuba. Guillermo Morales, their son, was sent to Mexico to be protected from the u.s. agents who imprisoned his parents. As a young boy, learning of his biological parents, he set on a quest to get to know his mother, uprooting himself yet again to unfamiliar California, struggling to understand how his life had taken the course that it had. He overcame this great challenge, as an incredible son to two families, with the fighting spirit of his mother Dylcia, now free. They both live in Puerto Rico now, which unfortunately still isn't free.

I first heard of the FALN from my father as a teenager. In college, I found images of the political prisoners and read their stories. In 1995, I created my first painting dedicated to the female political prisoners, of which their were 6: Dylcia Pagan, Haydee Beltran, Alejandrina Torres, Carmen Valentín, Ida Luz Rodriguez and Alicia Rodriguez. I also worked with different campaigns for the freedom of the Puerto Rican Political Prisoners. That goal was realized in 1999 when Bill Clinton's administration offered conditional pardons to 11 of the prisoners. Unfortunately, it was only partially realized in that 4 individuals still remain behind bars.

I had the opportunity to meet Dylcia on two brief occasions since her release, but in the summer of 2005, I had the pleasure of visiting her home when Ricanstruction traveled to Loiza, Puerto Rico to shoot some scenes with Dylcia for the film Machetero. We were there to work and she was all about the production as her background is in film and television. Yet she welcomed us into her home, cooked breakfast for us and trusted us with her huge heart. Dylcia works like a machine but as a Nuyorican who loves her people and life, she understands the importance of loving and sharing the pleasures of life. She understands that fighting for freedom also means to taking that freedom by living freely. In the middle of a long day of shooting, she invited us to the beach behind her home. We had the entire beach to ourselves and it was heaven. She told us stories about life in New York and about her son and together we laughed as she reminisced while floating with the waves. The entire time I was in a daze thinking, "Wow, I'm here with Dylcia Pagan". For me that's the equivalent of a young kid meeting a favorite star athlete or movie star. This is an individual of a group of freedom fighters that I had read about, admired, that had inspired me to paint to work for my people, to work for the liberation of Puerto Rico and yet they were always far away behind bars. Now I had the blessing of being in Dylcia's home. Though that was a truly humbling experience, I was more humbled by how real of a person she is. For all the things she is: a Nuyorican, a Puerto Rican, a mom, a freedom fighter, a former political prisoner/ prisoner of war, a healer, a Buddhist, an espiritista, a filmmaker, a dancer--hanging with Dylcia is like hanging out with that family member that you seldom see but when you do see them it's all blood and you're loved for that basic connection. You laugh together and you struggle together because you're family, punto. Dylcia has a huge family in that case because she accepts all as such.

So watching her float that day in the water, her eyes squinting in the sun, got me to consider the concept of freedom and what that really means. The beach, which she calls "La playa de Dylcia y sus panas" was definitely delicious, but I had to consider the following:

What does that feel like after 20 years behind bars?
What does it feel like after 20 years behind bars for fighting for the freedom of your country to now be swimming in waters of your island?
What’s it like to be swimming because you're free from prison, but Puerto Rico is still not free? And so we must live freely while advancing the liberation struggle.

Ramon Emeterio Betances wrote: Querer ser libre es empezar a ser lo. (Wanting to be free is to start being free). That day I learned that in order for Dylcia and her comrades to fight for freedom, they had to live freely and create the mindset of a free Puerto Rico in their hearts. That is how they sacrificed, that is how they got through 20 years in prison and how they continue behind bars for those who are still in there. That is how they continue the work. And best of all that is how they are free to love with a capacity like I've never seen. Dylcia ends every phone call with "I love you". In Puerto Rico, after hanging out for the first time with former POW Elizam Escobar, he walked my dad and I to the car and said "I love you" to the both of us. Elizam is also from New York City. I've never seen Puerto Rican men in New York say “I love you” to one another so freely, particularly to someone they just met. Sometimes we hear those words and take them for granted. In the case of our freedom fighters, you don't question the words of someone who lived in clandestinity and then was imprisoned for 20 years. You take them, you believe them and through them you're inspired to love back just as deeply.

I painted Dylcia like I remembered her that day and the same way her love shined through in Vagabond's film Machetero. I associate her a lot with the ocean, with Yemaya. Seashells cover the foreground of the canvas and 20 shells for each year she spent in prison circle her head. Very much in the spirit of Yemaya, Dylcia has great love and is very nurturing to all-- sometimes intimidating people because like a real Puerto Rican mother, she'll check you when you need to be check. She doesn't care who your momma is. That's Dylcia. I wanted to paint her against the backdrop of the blue sky, because that is how I saw her that day in the ocean. That is also the blue sky that inspired the blue on our true Puerto Rican flag, whose sky blue was darkened and darkened by the u.s. government. That sky blue and that white star represent freedom to us. Freedom like the sky is natural and infinite. And like Filiberto Ojeda Rios liked to say, that truth, that sky, can not be covered with one hand. It is only a matter of time before the oppressive reigns seeking to contain our freedom will buckle.

For more information on Dylcia and her son see the award-winning documentary: The Double Life of Ernesto Gomez Gomez.