Equal opportunities

A man climbed a tree to watch me from my balcony while I was alone in my room, doing things I would only ever do in private. I was preyed upon.

I thought about the Nica men that objectify and violate my privacy, these men that I now despise. And I realize these are some of the same men that I once was so dedicated to protecting from oppression. So I forgave them. 

Anger is a sort of jealousy, a jealousy over the illusion of power, an emotion that only prevents me from deserving what I want. I was jealous of his ability to see, to pry. I can also see what does not want to be seen. I can also pry.

The world does not give out equal opportunities, but it also does not give out equal virtues. And I was born with so much courage it enraged everyone around me, even the ones I kept the closest. Why her? They would ask. As if it was unfair. It is unfair. I see it now. But I don’t know how to give it away. I have tried, at least I tried. 

The voices of people from Nicaragua are dark and speak of horror and humiliation. They speak of the underworld and witchcraft. secrets that are powerful and difficult. Their broken wailing flooding over the borders of Costa Rica, crying for sanctuary, for brotherhood, for humanity.