To Sit with It

I know young sibling rivalry, disagreements, arguments, fixed positions, big emotions. I grew up surrounded by all of it.

In the midst of it, everything felt huge, red, impossible.

How can they be doing this to me?

But once we were past it, it looked smaller from a distance.

Not such a big deal after all.

I stand on a green field, rooted in hard history.

I think of disagreements, arguments, and fixed positions that are nothing like our childish discussions.

Sibling rivalry at this level is hard to comprehend.

I remember being in elementary school, back in Venezuela, struggling with the concept of civil war. “What do you mean they fought each other?”

My understanding of conflict only knew countries against countries. That felt easier to accept: “They wanted one thing, and they wanted something different, because they were from two different places.”

My history teacher’s explanation of civil wars was… insufficient. He failed to explain so much. Failed to provide context. When I tried to compare civil wars to sibling fighting, it felt impossible.

And since it wasn’t my own country’s history, I guess my teacher didn’t feel the need to go deeper. I also never felt confident enough to ask.

Standing on this Tennessee field, learning about the blood spilled and the many lives lost, my heart feels impossibly heavy.

I know this kind of sibling rivalry.

I am no stranger to seeing brothers and sisters of a country turn against each other, unable to recognize themselves in the other.

Ideals and beliefs so deeply rooted that seeing the other becomes nearly impossible.

I hear about the battles, see the cannons, and think about the lengths people will go to defend what they stand for.

It’s hard for me to write about conflict.

I feel vulnerable even thinking about sharing these thoughts.

Yet I walk with humility through these fields, recognizing the history that took place here, and I stop to reflect on the importance of processing it.

I’m learning to lean into understanding before speaking.

To take in the history, to sit with it, before forming an opinion.

I don’t write much about Venezuela.

And it’s not because of the pain it may cause.

Hearing others talk about my country is something I’m still learning to navigate.

There are so many opinions, so many perspectives, so many different “truths,” and often, not much awareness.

So I don’t say much unless I’m asked.

But writing I must.

As I move through these battlefield maps and historical markers, I see someone’s decision to write down what happened here.

I see someone using words to try to capture the immensity of these events, so that people can read and take in the significance of history. To sit with it.

Because it matters.