After having spent more than twenty years studying and working in universities in the United States and Spain, as a teacher, I returned to Guatemala with the intention of promoting and disseminating the literary work of Guatemalan women. My academic experience in Guatemalan literature courses in particular, and Latin American literature in general, both in English, at the level of English literature departments, and in Spanish programs, in Latin American literature departments, is that yes, my students and colleagues knew Miguel Ángel Asturias, it was a miracle of the universe. For many of them, and even for the professors who worked with me, the bells of a certain “Yorye Boryes,” and “Garciáy Marqueses” rang in the distance; No Guatemalan author, and few Latin American authors (with the exception of Isabel Allende, who lives in the United States), were known to them. To give us a little consolation, because in “the kingdom of the blind, the one-eyed man is king,” they had not read, much less known, Cervantes and his masterful Don Quixote of La Mancha.
Upon arriving in Guatemala I was surprised that, of 36 national literature awards, only six women had achieved the coveted prize. The founding of the publishing house La Pepita responds to this inexplicable inequality. In a population with 52% women, according to population data from 2022, it is unlikely and statistically improbable that there are so few women who deserve the national award and even who write (we have high-caliber women writers in our homeland). Although it is true that there may be exogenous causes that explain the low contribution of women to national literature, my personal experience tells me that it is more plausible than the lack of incentives; little access to publication sources; and the non-existent support for culture is the cause of this decline.
For example, Guatemala has María Josefa García Granados de Saborío, poet; author of satirical sermons; feminist (when there was no place for feminism); founder of newspapers and magazines; author of newsletters where they criticized the government's excesses, and a illustrious pen (very advanced for the 19th century) whose work is detailed in a couple of books about her that can no longer be obtained, and little else of that.
The greatest wealth of a country is not gold, oil, or coin (although they are always welcome). A town is rich because of its people, not because of its material goods. In order to understand, love, and defend this people, it is essential to know their cultural production; spread it around the corners; respect and nurture the contributions of its people; and invest in more and more of them participating in the cultural field.
Culture should be like justice, blind and equitable. Unfortunately, it has become (in most countries, I must point out) a political weapon and a gender struggle.
Although my personal preference is inclined to avoid reducing the literary author to his political context and his genre, the inequality of laurels (I think we would settle for even a couple of leaves), of support, and the limited knowledge about Guatemalan authors has made me compelled to even the scales, even just a little.
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