To write: it was his main tool. For creation, expression, and organization. To bring order, lift up, inspire, and make an impact. And if it was Alexander Hamilton’s tool, it is also Lin-Manuel Miranda‘s. Like a modern Merlin, Lin transforms clay into gold, history into verse, and collective pain into song.
Today, I share this reflection on the musical, the artist, and how works like Hamilton reflect the depth of our dreams, the voices that scream in silence waiting to be heard, and what lies in the darkness awaiting its moment (as Eliza sings in “Burn”). And when time says “it’s now,” what does the wind sing to us? What does the sun whisper? What do the stars and water reveal?
As in the era of the colonies’ revolution, pressure and anguish can only go so far. There is no fall there: there is a leap. There are wings. There is a cry. Singing from the body, from the lungs, is a revolutionary act. The tongues expand, the times accelerate. Rap in Hamilton is the soundtrack of this acceleration. We struggle to keep pace, just as we struggle to keep up with today’s world. But those who listen closely, understand. Those who practice, sing. Those who feel, rise.
I first saw the musical in July 2020, when it premiered on Disney+. That year when everything turned upside down, Hamilton moved me on many levels. The sociopolitical and public health situations made the musical feel like a song of hope and redemption. Years later, when protests for immigrant rights were rising again, my daughter Sarah, who knows every lyric by heart, suggested we watch it again. Neither of us remembered it was the 10th anniversary of its debut or that the original cast appeared at the Tony Awards this year. That only confirms Hamilton isn’t just a show. It’s a popular chant that pulses from within. And it calls us.
Watching her sing each verse with the power of an open heart, with tears in her eyes and her body vibrating, reminded me that we are also writing history with our daughters. That memory is not only in books or on stage. It is in the living room, in the shared voice, in the fire that gets passed down.
Every detail in the wardrobe, stage movement, and character composition has its code. Hamilton walks in straight lines, always forward, always driven by urgency. Burr moves in circles, watches, waits, circles again. One represents impulse. The other, restraint. Those who rap are the ones who die young. Those who sing in classical styles live longer. It’s a symbolic logic, almost spiritual.
The staging is rich in sensory details: the heartbeat-like drumbeat, the dim lights intensifying during critical decisions, the creaking floor of the rotating stage representing time in motion. Every scene smells of transition, urgency, destiny. The color palette, meticulous choreography, and interwoven voices are like threads of one shared memory: Hamilton is meant to be felt with the entire body.
The song “My Shot” echoes ancestrally for those of us who arrived in this country seeking a better life. It is more than an energetic refrain: it is a manifesto. “I’m not throwing away my shot” is the affirmation of someone who knows their opportunity isn’t theirs alone. It is the echo of all who didn’t make it, those who stayed behind, those who dreamed but couldn’t realize it. For us immigrants, taking our shot isn’t about ambition: it’s about honor, gratitude, and emotional responsibility.
And in the background, a shadow: alcohol, present in the story as the silent companion of the heroes. Then, and now. Cycles that never fully close, inherited wounds. Like a nation that still hasn’t healed from gun violence. I live in Pennsylvania, near Philadelphia, where churches and schools organize silent protests with shirts bearing the names of young people killed by gunfire. In my son’s 10th-grade class, a classmate was murdered. Gun violence hasn’t been solved in the 21st century; it has escalated. That’s why peace, life, and dreaming of a full life deserve to be sung. Dreaming isn’t excess, it’s a right. And from the forest, from the trees, from the spirits watching over us, comes the echo of those who cleared the path.
And if Lin-Manuel Miranda turns mud into gold, he does so through a cast that is largely made up of artists of color and immigrants. This choice is far from trivial: it gives voice to the story of the United States from the perspectives of those who have historically been silenced, except for King George III, played by a white actor, a symbolic decision that underscores the otherness of colonial power.
And the women in Hamilton… The Schuyler sisters are not side characters. They are voice, history, and fire. Eliza, especially, is the one who preserves memory, fights for dignity, and upholds legacy. She is the invisible heart of the story.
Hamilton is not just a musical. It is an act of magic. It was written with fire. And we, in listening, are ignited too.
And as I write these lines for Mamá XXI, I invite you to explore the healing and transformative power of expression, beyond form, structure, or genre. If you feel called to dive deeper into intuitive, dreamlike, and symbolic creation, I welcome you to visit my parallel creative space: Aurora Plateada, a sanctuary of spiritual and artistic expression.
🎟️ How to Watch Hamilton Today
🎫 #Ham4Ham Digital Lottery: Every Friday at midnight, the Broadway lottery opens for $10 tickets. It closes the following Thursday at noon.
📱 Official App: Download the Broadway Direct app or visit hamiltonmusical.com/lottery
📍 Also touring in cities like Chicago, San Francisco, and more.
🎵 Available on:
- Disney+ (filmed version with the original cast)
- Spotify, Apple Music, and more to listen to the soundtrack
- YouTube (interviews, special performances, and songs)
🎶 Musical Symbolism and Curious Details
| Element | Meaning |
|---|---|
| Rap | Used by characters who die young or struggle internally (Hamilton, Laurens). |
| Classical Style | Associated with those who live longer or embody stability (Washington, Eliza). |
| Leitmotifs | Musical phrases like “My Shot” and “Wait for It” repeat with variations to show evolution or fate. |
| Stage Movements | Hamilton moves in straight lines. Burr in circles. Each gesture is part of the storytelling. |
🌟 Did You Know…?
- Lin-Manuel Miranda wrote Hamilton while on vacation, inspired by Ron Chernow’s biography.
- Songs like “Satisfied” were built using circular musical structures that mimic the character’s emotional rewind.
- The show took 7 years to complete. The first draft of “My Shot” alone took over a year.
- Miranda is currently working on a new concept album titled Warriors.
- Inspiration: The album is inspired by the 1979 film The Warriors, which in turn is based on the 1965 novel by Sol Yurick.
- Original Concept: The original story follows a gang from Coney Island trying to make their way home after being wrongly blamed for the murder of a gang leader.
- The Twist: Miranda and Eisa Davis (co-creators of the album) shifted the perspective, turning the “Warriors” into an all-female gang. This allowed them to explore themes of misogyny and violence through a new lens.
- Collaboration: Miranda and Davis collaborated on the album, with Miranda focusing on the music and Davis on the lyrics and narrative.
- Genre: The album blends hip-hop, musical theater, and various styles that reflect the diversity of New York City.
- Themes: The album explores themes of revenge, peace, violence, adversity, and loss, with a focus on how women might respond to these challenges.
- Standalone Piece: The creators aimed for the album to be distinct enough to stand on its own, rather than be seen as a direct adaptation of the film.
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