The Grit of the Human Spirit: From Colombia to the Western Slope
They told me not to go....
Before I moved to Colombia, South América to teach at an International School, my family tried to wrap me in a blanket of fear woven from US news headlines. They saw a caricature of a country; I saw the reality.
Those years offered me an unforgettable experience witnessing the most beautiful people, traditions, and cultures that didn’t just open my eyes—they shattered the "programming" of my upbringing.
Travel is the ultimate disruptor.
If we stay in the comfort zone of our societal conditioning, we miss the heartbeat of the world.
Colombia changed my DNA.
It turned my world upside down and pointed my compass South forever.
The Awakening:
From Tacos to "La Bestia"
Returning to the US felt like wearing clothes two sizes too small. I moved to Durango, Colorado, taking a teaching job while moonlighting as a waitress at Tacos Nayarit and volunteering at Compañeros. I was desperate to keep the Spanish I had fought to learn through immersion.
During those late nights, I started watching documentaries like La Bestia. I watched, rattled to my core, as families and unaccompanied children; risked everything to hop atop freight trains—exposed to the rain, the cold, the cartels, and the constant threat of violence.
People that embark on this type of journey don’t leave their homes because they "feel like a change."
Their survival demands it. Whether it's fleeing political violence in Venezuela or the harrowing trek through the Darién Gap—the most dangerous route on earth—these journeys are fueled by a grit most of us will never have to summon.
The Front Lines: Oaxaca
A year later, I was on the ground in Oaxaca, Mexico. My days (that first winter) were spent in a migrant shelter and teaching art at the Oaxaca Street Children Center—
At COMI; the shelter, I assisted as a cook, cleaned, and held space for people seeking asylum.
I saw families arrive with literally nothing. They had walked for months through the mountains of Central America.
No shoes.
No food.
No water.
Just the sheer resilience of the human spirit.
I remember an aunt who fled Honduras in the middle of the night with her nephew because a gang had threatened to kill his entire family if he didn't join them.
This is the reality the comfortable world ignores.
Javier: The Boy Who Stayed
Ten years later, I found myself back in a Colorado public school, teaching ESL. That’s where I met Javier.
Javier had recently arrived from Colombia, mid-year, carrying trauma that was visible in the way he breathed.
His second day at school, he collapsed in the hallway in a pool of tears, unable to step into the classroom.
I approached him, speaking Spanish with a spark of excitement. I told him how excited I was he was here and said, get this, "I lived in Colombia," The shift was instant. His eyes lit up; his body softened. We formed a bond built on shared songs and mutual respect. He eventually shared stories of crossing the Darién Gap—horrors no child should know.
But we also shared a love for Reggaeton.
On his last day of school, he cried again, fearing he’d lose the teacher who truly saw him...
Javier, with his "gangster/feral" style and unbreakable spirit, reminded me why I do this.
In a society that demands we suppress our edges and stay in line, his raw survival was a masterpiece.
Advocacy: The Fuerza of the Spirit
Today, my days are spent on the Western Slope of Colorado, working for an immigrant rights organization. I sit across from men and women who have ridden La Bestia and walked through mountains to get here.
I recently listened to a man from Honduras share his journey. As I looked into his soft, humble eyes, I felt a familiar mix of emotions: Anger that the world is built in a way that forces such hardship on some while others live in total ignorance, and Awe at the absolute fuerza (strength) of those who endure it.
My work isn't just about paperwork or appointments; it’s about witnessing. It’s about honoring the resilience of those who leave everything behind for the simple, radical hope of a new life.
Yours truly, Amy; XXX
