on this day of more and more people coming into the streets to stand with and for those who are running to freedom, please join me in breathing in Grandmother Flordemayo’s immigration journey of six decades ago that transports us into the experience of a child… a tale still so painful, she could only say it to her daughter to spread to the world…

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“HEATHER, I NEED TO STOP AND GO AND WASH MY FACE I NEED TO PUT WATER ON ALL OF MY EMOTIONS THAT I FEEL THIS TOPIC IS TOO PAINFUL TO WRITE ABOUT

Yesterday when you asked me to write something it was the day of Ajmaq a day of forgiveness. I prayed all day on the meaning of forgiveness. A child migrating to this country . How do you forgive persecution, injustice, abuse,human rights violations, ignorance,prejudice, belittlement, pain, isolation, not having a voice, and a language barrier? The right of expression, the need of compassion, the warmth of an understanding human, we do not understand why we are being treated like this. ‘We are at the mercy of God and pray someone hears your prayers’

The other day the day of Noj. The day of knowing I pray to all the people around the globe that they receive the liberation and the freedom that they need.

Even now sixty years later. I have a difficult time speaking about this journey without all of the emotions that are in my heart. I was a child when my mother told us we are going to the United States . I only had a few days before we left . My mind and my emotions were frozen. I could not even ask a question. The wonder of it all was incomprehensible. I remember those moments in time moving as if in slow motion. I looked around at the beauty of my surroundings the green plants the warm temperature the voice of my brothers and sisters. I remember my moms demeanor in her face was without expression. The night before we left no one slept. I was woken up in the cool midnight walking to the bus-stop. We boarded in the early morning hour with a ride to Managua, Nicaragua. That was the moment my journey started. My body was use to the mountain air and surroundings. I found myself in a city that was totally different busy with cars, people all around me, noise and the temperature was so hot. All I could do is hold my moms hand very tight. We stayed that night at my moms friends house to leave the next morning. We flew from Managua to Miami to La Guardia airport in NYC. My mind went into another transition. That became imprinted in my heart. The reality of my home, my town was all gone it was like it only existed in my mind.

I often asked my mom before she passed. I was younger than 17 years old
“Mama why did we come to the US her answer was always the same
Hija (daughter)
I wanted you to have a better life
We have no rights in Central America we as women
We cannot say NO to sex
We cannot say how many children we want to have
We cannot speak and express our thoughts
We have No rights to an education
We cannot say NO to all of the domestic and field work that we do
We cannot say NO to cooking and looking for food
We have no rights on what clothing we want to wear
We are under the domination of someone else

My mom said
I brought you here to have a better life than mine
I had NO rights as a women in Central America NO rights at all
So we run- run — run— to find freedom

Love and Light,
Grandmother Flordemayo”

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may these words soften the hardhearted freeing us all…