Dear friends, family, and community,
I hope this letter finds you well! I’m writing to you because I’m about to start work as a Human Rights Accompanier in Guatemala through the organization NISGUA (Network in Solidarity with the People of Guatemala). I’ve already told many of you about this work; I committed to the job last October and have been preparing for it for several months now, but in this letter I want to share with you some of the commitments that brought me to it and some of my thoughts before it starts. First, a short word about what NISGUA does: along with a coalition of other organizations, NISGUA sends human rights accompaniers to Guatemala to build relationships of solidarity with Guatemalan organizations and activists, upon their request. These Guatemalan human rights defenders are at risk of repression and retaliation by the Guatemalan state and private security forces, and international accompaniment is one tool they use to protect themselves. Mostly they work in two areas: indigenous land/resource sovereignty and justice and accountability in the wake of the country’s 36-year internal armed conflict. As an accompanier, I’ll provide an international observer’s presence (which has been shown to dissuade the violence and repression directed at these community leaders) and report on the efforts of Guatemalan human rights defenders to a U.S. audience (including you!) Both of these sides of the job are intended to strengthen bonds of solidarity across national borders, languages, and experiences. I’ve been thinking a lot about community — how we support each other and show up for each other in families, peer groups, classrooms, and friendships to cultivate survival and joy. I’ve been lucky to be a part of many communities already in my life, and in this time of transition I’m taking stock of how those communities have shaped me and how I can make choices that give back to them. You are all members of some community or other that has shaped and supported me, and I’m reaching out both as an invitation to you to get involved in work that you might not otherwise be able to, and to thank you for whatever role you played in getting me here. As I begin this transition, I’m holding close the lessons I have learned from my communities: lessons of music, food, love, and resilience from my family, lessons of critical thinking and hard work from Mt. Lebanon and Oberlin, lessons of tenderness and strength from my friends, and new lessons of solidarity and internationalism from NISGUA. I’m also thinking about what I have to learn from communal resistance at work in Guatemala right now—community referendums indigenous people are using to assert autonomy over their lands, student groups protesting governmental corruption, and countless other actions rooted in connectedness and relationship. Having grown up in a culture that prizes competition and individualism, and discourages us from seeing the ways in which our lives and wellbeings are bound up with one another, I’m humbled and excited to learn about these commitments to collective liberation. Your generosity, wisdom, and guidance continue to inspire and nourish me. I hope you are all doing well in the various places you find yourselves, and I would love to hear back from you about how life is! Thanks for supporting and forming me. More soon. In thanks and solidarity, Olivia
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