For Salvadorian Women Matter


At roughly 1 am on a quiet November night I found Claudia Lars or should I say, Margarita del Carmen Brannon Vega.
I discovered a missing piece of me that I didn’t know I had misplaced.
It was like accidentally finding a long-lost love letter that your mother hid to keep you from the dangers love brings.
It is unfolding in front of me, inside of me, or beside me, I can’t quite tell.
It’s now a part of me.
It’s as if I discovered a relative. 
It’s as if I found a hidden and magical spot in the woods just for me. 
So much of me now makes sense.
All of a sudden my doubts were being filled in with the proper puzzle pieces, pieces I was certain didn't exist.
I thought I was going to live forever empty in certain places.

I’ve always grown up being told by others that “El Salvador is a poor country, it’s not worth knowing, never mind your longing for your background it’s time to pay attention to the country where you were born but have nothing in common with.” 
I was constantly led to believe that people from El Salvador have never been important, have never been amazing, have never been anyone worth knowing.” 
I believed them.
Imagine my incredulity when a Salvadoran woman mattered, let alone shared a passion for words.
I don't blame my parents. They just wanted me to thrive and that meant being more American. When people would ask me where I was from, I’d always proudly answer “El Salvador!” My mom would grab my shoulder hard enough to let me know I was in trouble and say “ she is from here, she is American.”

She was a poet and a feminist.
She was strong and a romantic.
She was complicated and smart.
I feel so understood.
I feel so overwhelmed.

When I love something I rush to discover it.
But the sweet joy in every single thread of her expertly woven words make it unbearable to continue digging without pausing.
So I’ll treasure this slow uncovering.
I’ll watch it blossom.
I’ll let it brighten my soul.
I’ll let it enlighten my soul.
I’ll let it touch my soul.
For Salvadorian women matter.
Who would’ve thought?

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