Throughout the Vos del Sur program, we studied the complex history between Central America and the U.S. South. While I was aware of the connection, my eyes and mind were opened to just how deep the relationship goes. I am very grateful for all the things I learned in this class and even more grateful for the opportunity to exemplify these connections with my little island paradise, Roatán.
When I’m asked how I learned embroidery, I usually say "by osmosis." I can’t remember if it was one of the ladies at church, my mom, or maybe that Bible school the summer after fifth grade. Growing up in Tennessee, it felt like every girl knew how to sew. When I’m asked where I got my first beads, I’m not sure about that either – maybe from my abuelita when she lived with us, or from my tía when she visited from Los Angeles. This artwork intentionally uses media and materials that bring together my heritages from Tennessee and Guatemala. It is an homage to the people and cultures that raised me. I am grateful to Vos del Sur for the opportunity to reflect critically on my positionality and on what it means to me to be from the South.
Thinking about my family’s journey and encountering these sources, made me ask: What makes the U.S. South a historically, economically, and militarily unique space not just in the United States, but also on the global stage? Why is it important to recover and make meaning of these connections as Central American immigrants and the children of immigrants living in the U.S. South today? What can we learn from the legacies of internationalist, working-class, and cross-racial resistance in the South, particularly the Black Radical Tradition? Why do these questions matter in our current political climate?
This project includes two main narratives. Part I is based on a story pulled from an oral history interview I conducted with my father, Miguel, about an event from his childhood in El Salvador. Part II offers a personal reflection of my childhood and what it was like as a mixed, U.S. Central American growing up in the U.S. South. An audio recording, with various speakers reading the text, is also available. The audio for Part I includes the voices of my father, my little brother, and myself while Part II is voiced by my father, my older brother, and myself. This is an intergenerational project and story.
My mother arrived in Los Angeles in 1991, a year before the brutal civil war in El Salvador came to an end. She brought with her few belongings, including a work visa and memories of carnage and poverty. These scattered stories of pain and violence shaped my understanding of her distant home country growing up, a country I would not see until I decided to visit as an adult, much to my mother’s dismay. Her sporadic stories were steeped in trauma; the silences and shame that enveloped this distant place raised questions for me about why this country hurt my mother so much. When I was around two or three years old, we moved from my birthplace of Los Angeles to find a life away from a Guatemalan father who created strife in my mother’s life. My mom hoped to find a better life surrounded by our family in Long Island, New York, a hub for many Salvadorans.
