9 Thursday, June 15, 2017 The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com NEWS 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.