today I learned about the history of a place I’ve learned to love and to call home called SantAna. And among beautiful young acitvists I heard one amazing present history in the making/news from one of my communities, that marriage equality came to NY. And I’ve realized the journeys of learning my history from back home (Peru), and to learn the history of my new home (Santa Ana), and the history of a non-geopgraphical community (LGBTQ…etc) have taken me to the point where I can say I know where I came from. I know what other people did so that I could be where I’m at. Or at least I’m on my journey to understanding that. How can we live in amnesia most of our lives? How can we not know our own histories? It determines everything that’s around us; from the parks and schools we go to, to our buildings, to the words we use, to the words we don’t use, to the things we are allowed or not allowed to do. It’s a connection. Almost spiritual. A shared history with those of the past who were in one way or another like us. Former acitvists, former poets, former lgbtq people, former inhabitants of this continent, etc. Our ancestry is not only our “blood” and family ties. My ancestors were from all over the world, from different cultures, and different colors of skin. Maybe it’s because I need to know the history of something to be able to define it. But ever since I learned my histories, I feel like I know myself a lot more.