Anna Hebra Flaster Interviews her Younger Self

In Ana Hebra Flaster‘s powerful debut memoir, Flaster chronicles her family’s refugee journey from a Cuban barrio to a New Hampshire mill town, capturing the resilience, love, and complex identity of immigrant life in the U.S. Featured on NPR and PBS, and a finalist for major literary prizes, Flaster’s memoir reveals how the strong-willed women in her family wove stories of their Cuban past, creating a new origin tale of triumph over communism and corruption as they dealt with the challenges of assimilating to life as outsiders in a new country.

Offering a candid look at growing up in a Cuban-American household, learning English through Gilligan’s Island, and navigating the complexity of cultural identity. Ana’s is a universal story that truly humanizes the immigrant experience for anyone willing to listen.

Big Ana interviews little Ana (Anita)

Big Ana interviews little Ana (Anita)

This interview takes place on the last night of our Cuban lives in our beloved barrio of Juanelo, Cuba. It’s 1967. Eight years of revolution have passed. People had thought the revolution was ending Batista’s dictatorship and that Cuba would return to its 1940 democratic constitution. Instead, there are more restrictions than during Batista. Life is no longer about living. It’s about politics and ideology and being revolutionaries. Everything is owned by the revolution now. Neighbors are denouncing neighbors. Workers and students are pulled from work and school to march in parades. Some people who were deemed to be enemies of the revolution have been executed, like some of my father’s fellow factory workers. They wouldn’t stay quiet.

The motorcycle guard has just arrived in the barrio with our family’s exit papers. My parents had almost given up on ever receiving them. They’d had to quit their jobs three years before when they applied for the “permiso.” Jobs were for revolutionaries. We were gusanos, worms, the term the government used for people like us who wanted to leave Cuba and the new revolutionary society. The family had just 30 minutes to pack. One change of clothes for each member of the family, one extra pair of shows. Nothing of value. Not that the family had anything of value. Material value, anyway.

The family is on the street saying goodbye to neighbors. I’m five about to turn six. I am fascinated by the banner that’s stretching across our now closed front door.

Me: Do you know what’s happening?

Anita: Why are people crying and happy at the same time? I think we’re sad. Why are we sad?

Me: You will be going to live in the United States, where your cousins and your aunt are now.

Anita: Tia sent me a little piece of gum wrapped in foil in her last letter. It tasted like the sky.

Me: Do you miss them?

Anita: Yes!

Me: You’ll see them soon.

Anita: But why is everyone crying? Is it because people found out we’re worms? (Anita crooks her pinky and wriggles it).

Me: That’s funny! Who taught you to do that?

Anita: Abuela Fina, Tia, and Mami. It’s a secret that we’re worms. I’m not supposed to talk about it. But I want to. Everybody knows we’re worms. They call me that at school. That’s why we laugh about being (she crooks her finger again and wriggles it) little worms!

Me: That’s really funny! But It’s ok to be a little scared.

Anita: I don’t want to be scared. I want to be guapa. Mami says to ponte quapa. I’m going to be like her. Brave. I can make myself brave.

Me: I’ve seen that! So tonight, when you are sleeping at Tio’s—

Anita: The guard kicked us out of our house.

Me: I know.

Anita: He put a big banner on our door. Sealed it shut. Whap, whap, slap, slap. Tight! It’s the same banner they put on Florecita’s door when her family disappeared—flew away. That’s what they say. They flew away.

Me: I know it bothers you that the dishes and the food were still on the table when he kicked you out.

Anita: The guard had a gun.

Me: He’s gone now. You saw the moto going up Castillo.

Anita: He laughed at Papi.

Me: I know. So you’ll be a little scared but you’ll also be a little brave. A little of both. You’ll sleep in Tio’s apartment upstairs and tomorrow people will come to say goodbye to you and Abuela Fina, Mami, Papi, and Sergito.

Anita: Why?

Me: . . .

Anita: I love my teacher.

Me: Isn’t she great? She’ll come to say goodbye tomorrow too. She’ll make herself brave by coming to the house of a gusano, but she loves you and wants to say goodbye. So will your great grandfather, Don Manuel, and Tio Manolo, and Tina, and Abuela Cuca and lots of people who love you.

Anita: I don’t want to say goodbye to her. I love her bangs. They curl. (she makes a spiral shape with her finger).

Me: She’s so nice to you. I know you don’t want to go away, but you’ll be living with Tia and Alberto and Angelito. In the U n i t e d S t a t e s of A m e r I c a.

Anita: Angelito is the oldest. Alberto is a little bad. He threw Mami’s talcum powder all over the porch so we could slide around in it. Mami got mad. . . .America? Are there soldiers there?

Me; Yes but you don’t see them much.

Anita: I don’t want to go to Vietnam.

Me: You’re not going to Vietnam.

Anita: Good! I don’t want to go there.

Me: How do you know about Vietnam?

Anita: At school they told us the American soldiers kill women and little kids in Vietnam. I don’t want to go there.

Me: . . .

Anita: Do you know what’s going to happen?

Me: . . .

—

Property of the Revolution: From a Cuban Barrio to a New Hampshire Mill Town

Ana Hebra Flaster’s Property of the Revolution: From a Cuban Barrio to a New Hampshire Mill Town is a captivating memoir that chronicles the extraordinary journey of a Cuban refugee family from post-revolutionary Cuba to a snowy New Hampshire mill town in 1967. Through vivid storytelling and loving vignettes (some of which have been prominently featured on NPR and PBS), Flaster brings to life her childhood in a vibrant Cuban-American household, complete with an abuela, tia, cousins, and canaries. She reveals how the strong-willed women in her family wove stories of their scrappy Havana barrio and Cuba into daily life, creating a new origin story of triumph over communism and corruption, even as they struggled to assimilate to life in a new country.

At heart, all of the intimate stories in Flaster’s memoir highlight the indomitable spirit of immigrants, as she recounts learning English by watching Gilligan’s Island and deciphering American culture through the lyrics of “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.” Throughout the chaos, her family’s quirky wisdom and her mother’s battle cry of “ponte guapa” (make yourself brave) provide strength when it is needed most, showing how fierce love, stubborn will, and the sheer strength of family can put nine new Americans back on their feet – even when they’ve lost nearly everything in the process.

As Flaster recounts her unlikely journey from refugee child to successful American professional, she eventually uncovers the hidden costs of her family’s displacement. When her own daughter turns five, the age at which Flaster fled Cuba, long-buried memories resurface, demanding an adult’s reckoning with the psychological trauma of the past – a powerful testament to the enduring impact of the refugee experience, even generations later. Property of the Revolution celebrates the resilience of the immigrant spirit as a whole, while honestly portraying the enormous challenges and complexities of cultural assimilation and identity formation, as well as illustrating how the journey of refugee-dom never truly ends.

Perfect for readers of memoirs, immigrant stories, and family histories, Property of the Revolution offers a unique window into a pivotal moment in Cuban-American history while speaking to the universal themes of loss, reinvention, and the unbreakable bonds that define family.

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Tags: featured, women writers

Category: Interviews, On Writing