This morning I woke up to the news that Communist-in-chief of Cuba, Fidel Castro, had passed. As someone who has Afro-Cuban heritage, I took to Facebook and text message to check in with my family to gauge their reactions. I was largely met with a bag of mixed emotions. A devout Christian, my aunt refused to celebrate Castro’s death, asserting her respect for the dead as cause to remain silent on Castro. She did, however mention that her grandparents, my great grandparents, would celebrate this day. My cousin simply posted a message that read “sin palabras” or in English, “I am without words.”

As the day went on and my phone buzzed to life with the news, I began to search through the interweb to gauge the world’s reaction. The higher I searched, the more conflicted I grew. As someone whose dad came to the US as a Marielito, a Cuban refugee during the Mariel boat lift in 1980, I didn’t know how to respond. I was told stories of the atrocities Castro committed in the name of Cuba, some of which Afro-Cubans were the main targets. Disappearances, political imprisonment, starvation. But rectifying Castro the dictator, with Castro the folk hero who withstood American Imperialism and who supported Black Liberation efforts, has proven to be nothing less than difficult for me.

While some rightfully cheer the death of the a dictator, I can’t help but to think of the line “Who lives, who dies, who tells your story” from Alexander Hamilton. Most people who seem to exalt Castro as a hero, a respectable and worthy adversary to US hypocrisy, refuse to acknowledge his fifty years worth of infractions against human rights. Yes he gave asylum to wrongfully persecuted Black American Activists and often - when the rest of the world refused or turned a blind eye - sent aid to African countries in desperate situations. Cuban doctors were some of the first on the front lines during the Ebola scare while the US looked to prevent people from countries in Africa from entering the country. Others, as I’ve seen, a lot being white Batista era Cubans (think Rafael “Ted” Cruz), celebrate his death but in the same breath exalt the unfortunate President Elect, a Fascist in the making, Donald Trump. They see Castro’s death as a chance to reclaim Cuba, whereas I see it as a chance for the US to attempt to recolonise the country as it had been doing during Fulgencio Batista’s regime. They also dismiss the US’s own infractions, domestic and abroad, against human rights (hello, Standing Rock anyone?).

What I’ve essentially come to realise as my social media platforms blooms with people focusing on his death, is that iconic figures are far more nuanced than we allot them to be. Either we want to remember them for the good times, or berate them - dancing on their graves - for the bad. The question arising out of all of this is does the negative outweigh the positive when it comes to our leaders and public figures. I really don’t know. I’ve come to grapple with this question as President Obama, my “problematic fave.” Now I am not under circumstances comparing an eight year presidency to a fifty year rule; I’m simply reflecting on the notion that one person’s savior can be someone else’s satan. We currently live in an either/or binary society were the in-betweens are dismissed or ignored. We want black or white but the only certainty in this world is that it exists in shades of gray.

I studied Castro through the lens of the Black liberation movement, I studied him as an ally to Black plight here in the state, my Papi had another lens to view Castro through. Both images are correct, both construct two sides of the same coin. As 2016 comes to a close, and the fate of the world morphs into more and more uncertainties, I watch with baited breath. I hope that somewhere in the cosmos, my Papi can now sing Guantanamera with pride. I hope that Castro’s passing has brought peace to some. As for myself, I’ll continue to sort through my ambivalence while keeping the tiny island that runs through my blood in my thoughts.

Todo lo que sé es ¡Viva Cuba libre!