Translated by Marvin Najarro
Latin America, with its multicolors, its fecundity, its Native Peoples and its martyrs, is a land of contradictions, among them, the defeated generations accommodated in the shadow of brazenness, opportunism and indifference. Generations that refuse an identity of their own and who trample every trace of memory and dignity.
Inept, lethargic generations, unable to fend for themselves, to dare to create, to question, to formulate an analysis of their own, who became accustomed to copy and paste, and to hide behind other people’s words and actions, because doing so, does not demand any responsibility for their own acts. They are, therefore, the useful puppets of a system of domination, which increasingly cements itself on the inert root of those who easily forget, because they live floating in a bubble of indolence and individualism.
Unable to denounce and politically transform the time in which they have lived, these generations have become the solid steps through which the criminal cliques that govern us climb.
In order not to compromise, they swagger in phrases which they repeat with the deep fervor of a sanctimonious person in a Holy Week procession, and recite pretexts with the seriousness of the cowards. Generations who make of poetry the worst of outrages. Because it is easy to pretend not to understand, to lack knowledge, to play ignorant; because it is easy to live from the exploitation of others.
Because thinking for oneself is a whole revolution; because expressing one’s own thinking is an affront to the system, because analyzing is not the same as copy and paste; because to question what is unjust requires blood in the veins; because to act against the abuse is not something of the fainthearted. Because the comfort, the favors, the contacts and the benefits obtained from the silence and the cover-up; of disloyalty, are at stake.
A Latin America fragmented and humiliated by generations of spiritless who allowed others to decide for them, who were incapable of exploring for themselves, who allowed themselves to be trapped in a world of appearances, corruption, bribes, abuse, and consumerism. Generations that denied themselves the opportunity to disagree and the responsibility to object. Who let themselves be carried away by a stream of sewage that leaves them reeking to submission.
So defeated they are that they have become incapable of recognizing, and on the contrary they taint, the memory of so many who throughout history their lives have been torn as payment for dreaming of a free and fertile land. So defeated, that they prefer to pretend not to see, for to observe compels to question, to denounce and to demand. So defeated, that they have chosen to look down or turn a blind eye: when the abuser hits, kills and disappears those who with guts and love have raised the voice for the oppressed.
Generations that never made an attempt to recover their identity, their dignity and their freedom; generations who are so defeated that they will continue receiving crumbs and believing everything they are told by those who manufacture the current system of control; it is the unmitigated truth, and they will learn it as a habit and a pattern that they will continue to pass on to the next generations; making Latin America the perfect soil for the affront and oblivion. While they are accomplices and responsible for the oppression of their peoples, these generations ignore, or pretend to ignore, that they too were mutilated and have lost much more, because without dignity life is like a husk.
Are these generations recoverable? Yes. But it is betting on delirium, and you need the guts of crazy dreamers to recover the seed and make it germinate.
In madness there isn’t room for the idea that a swallow does not make summer. In the resistance inhabits the evergreen of hope.
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Ilka Oliva Corado @ilkaolivacorado email@example.com
Translated by Marvin Najarro