![]() Everybody's children just ran the gamut of shades. My grandfather's family was very dark and very light all at once. My uncle Juancito was the oldest, and the darkest. My grandfather moved his family to Florida first. But a few moments into the discussion, something clicked and she acknowledged it. ![]() At first she didn't understand what I was saying. I asked my mom if she knew that this was a story about our own history. There was a weird disconnect between what was happening to Clara and her compatriots and her own experience. So I watched it with my mom, a light-skinned Puerto Rican woman born on the island and moving to the States at the age of 7. This was a story about the horror of America. This was no tale of a man's epic journey throughout the magical realm to reunite with his love. This was no tale of Lemuel Gulliver experiencing the stupidity of human society. Then that 3rd episode happened and forced to throw out all that bullshit out of my head. I was ready to follow along that symbolic path and parallel journeys they would take, all flavored by those books. I let that literary part of my brain kick in, and was patting myself on the back for recognizing the clues of the books that were presented Gulliver's Travels and The Oddysey. It was my partner who pushed me to the next one to follow these characters' journey. That first episode was so painful, that I almost gave up. I enjoyed it as well, but II will tell you, its was very hard sometimes. This was after I had already seen the first 9 with my partner, a Korean immigrant who just loved it. SO last weekend I binge-watched the first 9 episodes of The Underground Railroad on Prime with my mom.
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