el salvador

  • usa:*steals half of Mexico*
  • usa:*cuts Panama in half and then retains the rights to the Canal for about 100 years*
  • usa:*sets up Banana Republics in Central American*
  • usa:*orchestrates coup d'etats everytime they don't like an elected leader in Central American countries*
  • usa:*continues to fuel civil war in Nicaragua by giving money and training to the Contras*
  • usa:*is an ally of dictator Manuel Noriega and even has him working with the CIA*
  • usa:*is the main consumer of the drugs that cause drug cartels and drug related violence to exist"
  • usa:*supports autoritarian regimes in Guatemala (Ríos Montt) and El Salvador (José Napoleón Duarte)*
  • usa:*fuels gun violence in Central America in order to have a market to sell more (smuggled) guns to*
  • usa:*forces neoliberal policies like CAFTA that harm local Central American industries and brands that are not able to compete with their American counterparts*
  • usa:*uses Manifest Destiny and the Monroe Doctrine to justify their fucked up foreign policy*


Read these:

As Secretary of State, Hillary Admits to Deporting Orphaned Refugees to Send Message to Warlords Not to Let Them Flee

Hillary Clinton’s Child-Deportation Flip-Flop

     “’We have to send a clear message: Just because your child gets across            the border, that doesn’t mean the child gets to stay,’ she said.”

     “’We don’t want to send a message that is contrary to our laws, or we’ll               encourage more children to make that dangerous journey,’ she added.”

Hillary Clinton Defends Call To Deport Child Migrants

Why Hillary Clinton Doesn’t Deserve the Latino Vote

This article made me so sad. My parents got married right before the civil war in El Salvador. My dad came here in 1979, right before my brother was born. He looked for a job for six months in San Diego, before his sister found him something in New York. He found an apartment and worked for 3 years. My mother would write him and tell him about the bodies that littered the porch and yard almost every night. He saved enough money to go back to El Salvador, hire a couple of coyotes and bring my mother and brother home.

My mom had no idea he was coming. She was hanging laundry and my brother was playing with his toys when my father showed up. “It’s time to go,” he said. My mother looked at him and the two men with him. She nodded. This was real. She scooped up my brother and barely had time to say goodbye to her family before they were on their way.

They made it to Guadalajara by bus, the most luxurious leg of their trip. They made the rest of their way by foot. My mom, my dad, the coyotes, and my brother who was only 3 at the time.

They made their way through desert and jungle, mostly at night. There’s one part of the story my mom tells over and over, recalling every detail like it was yesterday. They had reached a cliff that dropped about 20 feet. The only way around it was to jump it. My mom, having carried my brother most of the way put him down as she watched one of the coyotes and my dad jump. “Jump,” the other one said to her. “No. No. I’ll go back. This is too much. I’d rather go back,” she was frightened but she did not cry. “This is your only choice,” the man told her. “I am not jumping that with my son. Leave. I’ll go back.” The man stared at her. She was serious. In one swift motion, he picked my brother up, jumped the cliff and took off, past my father and the other man. My mom did not hesitate. Next thing she knew, she was tackling the coyote and taking her son back. “It was the only way to get you to jump,” the man said.

Crossing the actual border was easy. There was a hole underneath the fence that they all crawled through. From there, they ran for what my mother says felt like forever. Through people’s yards, past their barking dogs, until they came to a truck. They piled in, along with others who were also being smuggled in. The drive was long. I’m not sure how long they stayed in the house where they were being hidden, or how they were able to get on a plane, but they made it to San Diego airport. My dad bought my brother a little toy car before they got on the plane to New York. My brother says this is the first thing he remembers.

I think a lot about this story and what my parents went through to get here. I think a lot about what life must have been like back in El Salvador. My mother tells me about a little girl who went missing, only to be found buried upside down in the ground, her legs sticking out, and a pole jammed between them. It was a real life nightmare, and even though the war is over, gangs have taken over. Not much has really changed.

The people who come to this country, especially from Central America, see the US as their only hope. If they stay where they are, they die. They can come here, and they might die on the way, but there is hope that they won’t. That’s it. Their choices are die or maybe die. And IF they actually get here, it’s only to find that they’re not actually wanted here. No one wants to help them, they can’t find work, they are literally illegal. Imagine someone telling you your entire life and presence is illegal. You are not worth anything, not even your life. You left a life of fear for a life of new fears. Fear of being caught, fear of being found, accompanied by the still too familiar fear of dying. Their idea of The American Dream was a lie.

My parents and my brother are all United States citizens now. They are hard-working, tax-paying American citizens. My mother probably knows more about American History than anybody reading this. But she still doesn’t speak English too well, and since she doesn’t wear her certificate of citizenship around her neck, people will still think that she should go back to where she came from.

“Go back to where you came from. Go back to your life of fear, of hopelessness and nothing. Go back to probably die.”

Fuck you.