Gloria

Yesterday, a woman named Gloria shared her story. Gloria is a survivor of the civil war in El Salvador (’79-’92); she recounted to us her experience living in a small village called Tacachico until 1981. Her story is one of oppression and courage, fear and fearlessness, struggle, and ultimately of survival. She spoke of marching in the thousands against a corrupt government only to be fire-hosed with water and later captured if found drenched. She stood in front of us as a testament to the pain and suffering caused by losing her loved ones; first her father, then her siblings and mother. They were killed for working towards a better existence, for believing in community, or simply for fleeing too slowly. Gloria retold her family’s countless escapes to the surrounding mountains where they would wait for their village to settle again. She discussed her own capture with her two children and how she couldn’t eat for fear of death; how she couldn’t feed her baby for lack of nutrients; and how she worried incessantly about her feverish son. She eventually fled El Salvador to where she lives now in Mexico.

It was powerful to be in that room with Gloria, to feel her story through her voice; it’s something I wish I could share with everyone; and it’s something I will carry with me always.

As someone who is community-minded, I can’t help but acknowledge that her personal struggle is couched in a greater global, economic, and political context. Furthermore, millions of people have stories filled with pain and suffering that are also pieces of a larger picture, constructed by systems that often ignore the need or will of the people. For instance, Gloria’s family was repressed by a military that received U.S. aid in the form of arms, military funding, and training for soldiers at the School of the Americas. This is something we don’t discuss in school, through the media, or in popular politics.

I recognize how difficult it can be to ask hard questions, to truly scrutinize the world we live in, and to attempt to be an agent of change every day. After all, it’s difficult to know whether or not the men and women who harvested my strawberries were paid adequately and treated humanely. Yet, to me, my experience in Puebla has renewed my energy to be conscientious of everyday decisions, to work toward a more sustainable and healthy future, and to do what I can for the betterment of all.

Ultimately, I am left with an important lesson: I may not be able to change our society’s oppressive structures tomorrow, but doing nothing is not (and will never be) an option.

*Originally posted by Julie Duncan on August 27, 2014 at: http://gsswblog.du.edu/globalpractice/2014/08/27/gloria/