The boys were handed 15 yards of braided polypropylene rope, a serrated knife, dried meat, and plátanos secos carefully wrapped in a woman’s headscarf. As Elio packed these items into his small military-issued backpack, Omar and the troop leader stood silently. Words were not exchanged; words were not needed. The only thing being traded at a higher value than words that summer were MP5s – and plane tickets. Either way, the Asociación of Salvadoran Boy Scouts had nonexpendable

I carry papers, pens, and erasers. I carry blank sheets of paper and I carry papers filled. Words crossed, highlighted and bolded communicate mental preoccupations. I carry the weight of my limitations, the things that remind me what I can and cannot do. I carry the weight of knowledge of things, things I should not know and should not tell. I carry the weight of memory. Memory of ancestors murdered in the name of intimidation, slaughtered for deviant imaginations, assassinat

What is difference? What is similarity? Are there definitions for these words or are am I asking some philosophical question? I sat in my school’s meeting house as my mind raced with questions. The facilitator had asked the group us to divide into “white” and “of color.” My thick fingers gripped the black denim covering my – even thicker – thighs. My feet tapped back and forth, playing their part in the colonial room’s deafening symphony. My peer’s breaths escaped in and ou