Rain was uncommon in El Salvador during the dry season when I decided to study abroad. So, when it started pouring in the middle of the night, my classmates and I met in the cobblestone streets between our homes and decided to play Red Rover. Half of us linked arms strongly and faced the other half who did the same. We put some distance between both lines of linked beings and then called over someone from the other line. Unfortunately, it quickly became apparent to the opposing team that I was the weakest link. My hands are small, my grip weak, and my anxiety about getting hurt strong. So every time they would run as fast as they could right at my small, weak, anxious hand and I would let go and break the chain.
The next day, we all woke up early and headed to history class where we learned about the Salvadoran Civil War that lasted from 1980-1992 between the government and a number of united left-wing groups. The Salvadoran government, which was receiving funding from the United States, was responsible for a number of human rights violations during these years. Uncomfortable with the US involvement in this atrocious war, some Americans traveled to El Salvador during the conflict to ask the Salvadorans what they could do to help. Their response: to be in solidarity- to stand with them, to fight with them, to learn from them, to link hands with them and challenge the opposing team guilty of the degradation of human dignity through greed, violence, and oppression throughout Salvadoran history. The Salvadorans called out to the global community to join their line.
Unfortunately, the poverty, violence, and oppression in El Salvador still cause wink links within this line of communal solidarity. The Salvadorans are still calling us to be with them. So when I was in college, I heard their call and decided to answer it. I moved to El Salvador for two different six month periods in 2007 and 2008, and really came to understand the strength of solidarity. Even though I was a white, wealthy, American woman with a great amount of privilege, the Salvadorans invited me to join their lives, to enter their homes, to be with their families, to teach in their schools, to sing in their churches, and to volunteer in their hospitals so that I could come to know them, to understand them, and ultimately to love them. It is my job now to share their story, as it is so interlinked with my own.
Since I began writing more openly about my experience with sexual abuse recovery, I have often been approached with the same question that the Americans asked the Salvadorans back in the 1980's, "What can we do to help? How can we, as your community, support those who have been abused?" My response, which I learned from the patience and grace of the Salvadoran people: be in solidarity with us- stand with us, fight with us, learn from us.
The truth is that I don't want anyone to understand from personal experience what I've been through. The truth is, too many people do. I, like so many survivors, chose to recover mostly alone. I opened up to a small community of trusted friends about my experience, but didn't reach out to the greater survivor network because I was ashamed to identify myself as such. I'm quickly learning that the line of survivors standing in solidarity already exists and I am now strong enough to join it. I wish I would've joined it earlier. I hope to encourage those who have been abused to join us early and let us support you through your journey of recovery.
For those who haven't been abused, we need you too. I learned so about love, trust, friendship, boundaries, and patience from the people who were raised right and were open to sharing their wisdom with me. My friends were my models to show me that there was a better way, that there were more options than the limited ones presented to me by my own family, that I could choose to be and act differently.
So, this is my call: Come, grab my hand, and let us grow the strong line of survivors and supporters who walk and talk together, who write and fight together, who sing and bring justice together. I'm confident now that in this game, I will not be the weakest link, I will not let go, I will not break this chain. So join me; join us.
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