For those who are unfamiliar, Opportunity Zones are a federal economic development initiative established during Trump’s first term. The idea is to revitalize economically distressed areas by offering tax breaks to investors. That is the theory.
In practice, and based on my experience living in Boston, investors primarily flock to Opportunity Zones for tax benefits. There is no genuine commitment to improving the lives of residents. Quite the opposite: the program is a convenient tool for gentrification and displacement, driving out long-time communities of color. That is happening in Boston right now.
Puerto Rico’s massive, ongoing exodus to the mainland is no coincidence. It is the direct result of decades of failed Washington policies and a local political class that governs like it is mixing a cake from a box: just add federal funds, bake, and slice locally. There is no will to roll up sleeves and craft local, ground-up solutions, unlike states, which must.
Instead, politicians rely on federal poverty programs for short-term political gain and then point fingers when the results fail to meet expectations. That is why, in 2025, nearly 40% of Puerto Ricans still depend on federal aid.
While Opportunity Zones apply selectively to poor neighborhoods in the states, Puerto Rico’s poverty is so entrenched that the entire island qualified as one big Opportunity Zone. And local politicians have turned that into yet another way to profit from the status quo.
Historically, Puerto Rico has exported its poverty to the mainland to ease tensions at home. We observed that during the 1940s, 1950s, and 1960s, when the federal Operation Bootstrap aimed to transition the island’s economy from an agricultural to an industrial one, did not create enough jobs for displaced peasants.
Hundreds of factories from the mainland flew to the island to recruit unskilled people for the jobs that undocumented migrants do today. Those illiterate Puerto Ricans were concentrated in New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Connecticut, Rhode Island, Massachusetts, and Illinois. They lived in the same neglected and segregated neighborhoods as African Americans and experienced the same racism and discrimination for not speaking English.
However, exporting poverty to the mainland is backfiring. Today, it is not just people who are economically disadvantaged who leave; it is the middle and professional class, too. I know because I was one of them: the Puerto Rican government laid me off as a public school teacher during the 2006 government shutdown. Like many, I had to find my future in the States without having command of English, as a gay person with broken family ties on the island, and without a network of people welcoming me on the mainland.
That is why you will not see me waving Puerto Rican flags at hollow festivals in Boston. To me, these are distractions - cultural pageantry that hides an unchanged reality. Worse still, island politicians want the diaspora to open their wallets for tourism and nostalgia while they pocket the profits. Did you know that over half of the island’s tourists are Puerto Ricans from the States?
For those with relatives in Puerto Rico, I encourage you to support your loved ones, non-profits, and hard-working businesses. However, be mindful of your consumption spending, as those sales taxes often go to corrupt politicians.
My pride runs deeper than a flag on a T-shirt. I am more radical or idealistic if you prefer. I will leave my comfort in the States and go back when Puerto Rico is independent, even if it means starting from nothing.
At least then, I will live with dignity in my own country, not in a dependent colony run by corrupt opportunists at Washington’s mercy. That day, I will leave the States with my flag from head to toe. Until then, my love for Puerto Rico is not for sale.
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