You have also written poems on loose sheets

One of my best friends from growing up is Nicaraguan. I'm planning a three month trip there to learn Spanish, hopefully experience some community organizing, and learn about myself by learning about others. I've spoken about my plans with her a bunch, but I always get this bitter-sweet vibe from her about it, like she's resentful of my decision to go to there. I understand why white,rich people traveling to Nicaragua is difficult for her to swallow. But, I don't agree with all of things she says about it, believing she is putting some of her own shit on all white people or all rich people who travel South.

She and I have a complicated eleven year relationship that I value more than most things in my life. Ours is a history based partially in privilege and oppression. As kids, she had to leave her Spanish and her Nicaraguan Cuban working class identity out of our rich Jewish group of friends . I participated, as a kid, in smashing her full identity into a smaller container. After being smashed up for so many years, when she left for college, she was finally able to break free of that group of people, but I'm still part of that past.

Generally, I feel nervous challenging her opinions on race/class issues, because of our history. But, at the same time, I think it is wrong for me to hold my tongue about things that she says that I don't agree with, simply because of guilt associated with our history or because she's Latina. I don't want that and I really assume she doesn't want that either. I want to make a more conscious effort to respectfully challenge her on things she says about race/class in the future.

I wrote her a letter explaining some of this. I hope she writes back.

*after the Sandinista revolution in 1979, the Sandinistas organized public poetry workshops for anyone to attend. the writing is realistic, really beautiful and written by normal people. here is a poem from one of the workshops (translated into English!) that I really love.

Letter-Poem

I am writing to you from this spot
amid this scenery which brings back memories
of walks hand in hand
beneath the trees
of fresh winds in our faces.
From here I say
taht although we are apart
I feel you are with me always.
You form a part of my work.
Each night we initiate a poem together.
I know that you
the same as me
on days like this
have also felt me close
and like me
you have also written poems on loose sheets
and you begin to feel as if we are together
and we can feel each other's hands
and even each otehr's lips.
This is what I am feeling, love.
This is what I am feeling.

Juan Ramón Falcón