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Thursday, June 15, 2017
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
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ed Belize and Panama) for the first
time in years. And, of course, aca-
demic collections like U.S. Central
Americans Reconstructing Mem-
ories, Struggles, and Communities
of Resistance allow for new voices
to re-center conversations around
what Central American identity
means in the context of the States.
These are far from the only people
doing this work, but in many ways,
they form one of the many epicen-
ters of this new movement shaking
up where Central Americans exist
in the U.S. consciousness.
For Central Americans — and
for those who aren’t — out there
looking to learn more, these
resources are all great places to
start.
In her poem “What It’s Like to
Be a Central American Unicorn for
Those Who Aren’t,” Maya Chin-
chilla says that Central Americans
are “mythical creatures” — uni-
corns, even — who exist outside
most people’s realm of possibil-
ity. Nevertheless, as we continue
through a year that already threat-
ens to make coming to or staying
in the U.S. more difficult for those
in the isthmus and in our com-
munities, it is essential that we
stop pushing these countries and
people to the sidelines. Whether
reading this is the first time you’ve
ever centered Central America —
and especially if it is — do not let
it be your last. We may be the stuff
of fairytales, but we’re out here
on Twitter too, already starting
these conversations, and looking
for others to find and support our
communities. All you need to do is
look.
¿Entendés, vos?
Abrazos,
Patrick Mullen-Coyoy
Straight from
the Unicorn’s
Mouth:
Centering
Central America
By PATRICK MULLEN-COYOY
Michigan in Color Contributor
To my fellow Central American
unicorns,
As you know, it’s not easy being
a Central American in the United
States — it’s not easy being Latinx,
period. But we all know that being
Central American is a little differ-
ent.
Let’s recap: For most people in
the United States, Central Amer-
ica stopped existing somewhere
around the mid-90s. Why should
we care? It’s not like a CIA-backed
coup led to the successful over-
throw of Guatemala’s Ten Years of
Spring, of course. And why would
we even bother looking at El Sal-
vador or Nicaragua, where years of
U.S. intervention lead to civil war
and even more death? Besides, it’s
not like refugees kept coming to
the United States after the peace
accords were signed! (They did.)
With our bloodstained foot out the
door of our past, why should any of
this matter, anyway?
Now, you might anticipate we
would have paid more attention
to Central America again in 2014.
You would have been hard-pressed
to avoid discussing it, what with
more than 50,000 unaccompanied
minors fleeing conditions of vio-
lence and poverty in Honduras,
El Salvador and Guatemala. Three
years ago isn’t that long, right?
You would be wrong.
After the all too necessary seg-
ments on CNN that summer with
a panic about the “crisis on the
border,” there was … nothing. No
one talked — talks — about these
children anymore. Obama said
things were fine, so they must be,
despite the fact that fiscal year
2016 demonstrated apprehensions
of minors nearing those of 2014. “A
brief spike” is how these lives were
described.
Knowing this, you might say
to yourself that even if the gen-
eral public doesn’t focus too much
attention on Central Americans,
they must be centered within
Latina/o and Latin American
Studies departments and cours-
es. We’re focused on all Latines,
including Central Americans. Or
so the assumption would go.
Unfortunately, this is far from
the norm. In most any Latina/o
Studies or Latin American history
course (barring California State
University Northridge’s special-
ized program), Central American
history, literature, politics, culture
and people are generally located
somewhere in between the Cuban
revolution and NAFTA. One class,
mid-way through the syllabus.
Perfunctory discussion of how
civil war came to pass in Guate-
mala and El Salvador. Massacres.
Refugees. Peace accords. If you’re
lucky, maybe you’ll even read
Rigoberta Menchú’s memoir. Then
on to Argentina.
A bleak view, to be sure.
Nevertheless, this history of
erasure, ignorance and invisibi-
lization is far from the end for our
communities. If others do not care
about Central America in the ways
that we need, then we must do the
work. Not for them, but for us — as
we did before the civil wars and as
we continue to do today. We need
place our own testimonials, our
own stories, our own narratives of
heartbreak and heroism at the cen-
ter ourselves of the Americas. We
must develop a voice for ourselves,
not apart from the wider Latinx
community, but in harmony with
that louder, pan-ethnic melody.
If few outsiders are willing to
amplify our lives, dramas, fears,
traumas and dreams, then we
need to do that for one another.
We have to cultivate new soli-
darities and open ourselves up to
messy diasporic identities. “Cen-
tral American,” “Central Ameri-
can-American” and “U.S. Central
American” are far from all-encom-
passing terms. That said, by allow-
ing for people to voice their own
lives and experiences as they will
— and in whichever of the count-
less languages of Central America
they prefer — then perhaps we can
avoid the totalizing narratives of
Central America that have existed
for so long.
In large part, this work is
already being done. Folks like Dr.
Leisy Abrego and “Dichos de un
bicho” use the #CentAmStudies
tag on social media to develop an
archive of useful news, articles
and discussions about Central
Americans. Central America Con-
temporary on Tumblr and Central
American Art on Twitter docu-
ment
often-overlooked
artists
and artwork. Tia Chucha Press’s
recent anthology The Wandering
Song: Central American Writing in
the United States brings together
poetry and writing from across the
isthmus (including the oft-shunt-
Happy
Father’s Day
By JASON ROWLAND
Michigan in Color Managing Editor
“A ship is safe in harbor, but
that’s not what ships are built for”
-John A. Shedd
Dad,
Oddly enough, my most pivotal
memories of us are simple conver-
sations that meant nothing at the
time, but mean everything today.
The conversations that, unbe-
knownst to you (and definitely to
me), triggered a shift in mindset
or attitude. The conversations that
have stuck around in my memory
after all of these years. The conver-
sations that ended with a variation
of “you’ll understand one day.”
One such conversation hap-
pened in your car, around what
feels like an eternity ago to me —
but probably feels like last month to
you — as I listened to you describe
a show called “The Twilight Zone”
that you watched as a kid. As you
went on recounting the scenes in
one particular episode, my inter-
est rose. Aliens? Meteors? Arma-
geddon? I was hooked. Finally, my
curiosity burst free: “Is it based on
a true story?” I asked. Your answer
has stuck with me since. Instead of
simply saying no and moved on, you
launched into a lesson about the
importance of critical thinking. It
quickly made sense that if we were
discussing a show about the end of
the world, it couldn’t be based on a
true story — a shift in mindset that
arose from a simple conversation.
Another time, I remember ask-
ing, “Dad, if I’m homeless when I
grow up, will you let me live with
you?” Much to my surprise, you
answered no — quickly followed by
“but you don’t have to worry about
that.” I’m not sure why I remember
that exchange, but I do. However,
what’s crystal clear to me now is
the motivation behind your answer.
Instead of teaching me that failure
was an option — that I don’t need
to try — you instilled in me the les-
son of self-reliance. While today I
know I could crash on your couch
whenever I need to, that’s not
what I needed to hear at the time. I
didn’t recognize that then, but you
did. While your answer may not
have been what I wanted to hear,
it’s what you knew was necessary.
Much like your incessant warn-
ings, and despite my correspond-
ing doubt, that the “one day” when
I would understand your lessons
would arrive sooner rather than
later, every morning I awake to
discover that today is the “one day”
I heard so much about. Luckily,
you’ve equipped me with the tools
necessary to thrive.
All of this is to say that I am who
I am today largely because of the
small conversations we had many
years ago. Perhaps it’s impossible
for any one memory to sum up all
of our talks. However, my memo-
ries of the following come close:
you reminding me that you’re not
here to “be my friend,” but you’re
here to be my father. At the time,
I couldn’t see why you can’t be
both — but now I do. A friend won’t
always be genuinely happy for us
when we succeed; a father will.
A friend won’t always correct us
when we’re wrong; a father will.
And a friend won’t always love us
after we mess up; a father will. And
you’ve proven this to be true time
and time again.
Love you and happy Father’s
Day, Jason.