{"id":259566,"date":"2026-07-13T17:04:38","date_gmt":"2026-07-13T14:04:38","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/1kitap1.com\/en\/estela-undrowning-rene-pena-govea\/"},"modified":"2026-07-13T17:04:38","modified_gmt":"2026-07-13T14:04:38","slug":"estela-undrowning-rene-pena-govea","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/1kitap1.com\/en\/estela-undrowning-rene-pena-govea\/","title":{"rendered":"Estela Undrowning – Rene Pena – Govea"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Chester nods once and Marisa and I follow suit. \u201cGreat,\u201d Ms. \u00c1lvarez says briskly. \u201cEstela, stay back a second.\u201d I hang back, wringing my hands together. Chester yanks the door open and Marisa follows him. \u201cEstela, how are you?\u201d Ms. \u00c1lvarez peers into my eyes. \u201cFine.\u201d \u201cAfter . . . the article?\u201d Ms. \u00c1lvarez drops off, waiting for me to speak.<\/p>\n

I exhale. \u201cI mean, not that great. I still feel like I\u2019m not exactly wanted at this school, but I\u2019m ready to just do my work, get my college apps in. . . .\u201d Ms. \u00c1lvarez pauses a beat, then asks, \u201cHave you heard about the meeting in my room today?\u201d \u201cYadira\u2019s meeting?\u201d I ask. \u201cWell, Yadira is facilitating,\u201d Ms. \u00c1lvarez says, \u201cbut it\u2019s not her meeting. It\u2019s supposed to be a space for students to share their experiences with racism at this school, some of which may resonate with you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, I\u2019m\u2014I\u2019m fine,\u201d I say, and notice that Ms. \u00c1lvarez looks disappointed. \u201cAre you sure?\u201d she insists. \u201cYou\u2019ve just had this big honor, but also all this attention and controversy that you did nothing to deserve.\u201d \u201cI thought you didn\u2019t want us to talk about the controversy,\u201d I say. I don\u2019t know why I\u2019m fighting Ms. \u00c1lvarez.<\/p>\n

I know she\u2019s on my side, but I really don\u2019t want to go to that meeting. It\u2019s not my responsibility to solve all the racism at this school. I don\u2019t want to bring more attention to the poetry contest\u2014it\u2019s embarrassing. And I have more important things to worry about. The eviction. Spanish. \u201cFighting in class and discussing it with others in a supportive environment are two different things,\u201d Ms. \u00c1lvarez says tiredly. \u201cDid you get in trouble for giving that interview?\u201d Ms. \u00c1lvarez looks taken aback. \u201cWith the reporter?<\/p>\n

No, I just took a personal day,\u201d she says.<\/p>\n

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el camino y nada m\u00e1s; are the only path, nothing else. caminante, no hay camino, Traveler, there is no path, se hace camino al andar. you make your own path by walking. Al andar se hace camino, As you walk, you make your path y al volver la vista atr\u00e1s and as you return your gaze behind, se ve la senda que nunca you see the trail that se ha de volver a pisar.<\/p>\n

you will never travel again. Caminante, no hay camino, Traveler, there is no path sino estelas en la mar. only ships\u2019 wakes on the sea. \u2014Antonio Machado, Proverbios y cantares, \u201cXXIX\u201d Desahogar, a direct translation says to vent, but the literal meaning is to undrown [ .<\/p>\n

. . ] Letting go of secrets and burdens, unraveling our papelitos guardados [ . . . ] May we no longer drown from the memories of pain left unsaid. \u2014David Luis Glisch-S\u00e1nchez and Nic Rodr\u00edguez-Villafa\u00f1e, Sana, Sana: Latinx Pain and Radical Visions for Healing and Justice OceanofPDF.com One Monday, August 19 You can\u2019t stay here, you don\u2019t belong, you have to get out, says the letter in the envelope. Of course, I can\u2019t know for sure, because I didn\u2019t actually read it.<\/p>\n

After I slid the envelope under my parents\u2019 bedroom door, I had four minutes to run for this bus, which now sails across 19th Avenue straight into a fog bank. My best friend, Jeli, leans into the aisle to push the stop request button and I realize that I\u2019ve made a mistake. Yes, it\u2019s the first day of senior year, and no, I can\u2019t be late. Still, I should have opened the letter.<\/p>\n

I could have made a plan. Instead, my mind skitters between words, appraising them. My fingers itch for my notebook, primed to purge this feeling. Words to Describe Our Possible Fate Destitution, ruination, defenestration, and the most precise: eviction. But the hypothetical words I imagine in the letter win; they pound in my chest: GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT!<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.<\/em><\/p>\n

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