Telling the untold: Two students and their teacher document Oakland’s Mam community
This story was produced by El Tímpano, a civic media organization serving and covering the Bay Area’s Latino and Mayan immigrant communities. The original version of the story can be found here.
I wasn’t used to hearing anything about my Mam culture at school. Most classes focused on U.S. history, or maybe Mexican history, but never Mam. My only knowledge of my culture came from my parents and my family, tales of their lives in Guatemala and what they endured to get us to where we are today. I was one of the few Mam speakers at Skyline High School in Oakland, where I graduated last year. It wasn’t until our history teacher, Javier Armas, took notice of our tight-knit Mam community and the rich culture embedded in us, and began teaching our class about the Mam people and about Guatemala. He noticed my keen interest, and brought the idea to me and my classmate Miguel Ortiz, another Mam student, of compiling our Mam history into a book, which we later called Mam History: Oakland Notes on the History of the Mayan-Mam Language.
Truthfully, Miguel and I were skeptical at first. We had no idea what would entail creating a book, or where to even start. It felt like a huge load to lift on top of school work and life. But Mr. Armas encouraged us to participate, noting how important it was to him to have young Mam students have a voice in the book, to be able to tell the tales of our ancestors and our language. Being a Mam speaker means being a trilingual speaker. It’s not as simple as being able to speak Mam and English, but also Spanish to be able to communicate with local resources and our local Latino community. Being able to speak Mam means I can connect with elders in our community who might feel isolated or misunderstood. It’s also beautiful to be able to share your language with others, to see people’s faces light up when they hear something familiar or new.
Developing and putting together this book was a long and detailed process. It took months of interviews, research, and late nights at the library. My favorite part of the process was being able to connect with the elders in our Mam community. I feel so grateful to live in a place like Oakland, where the Mam community is so strong and caring. My favorite part of making the book was the interviews. I talked to family and friends, people still living in Guatemala, Mam speakers, people who really knew the culture. Hearing their voices reminded me why we started this project in the first place. Everyone has their own version of history, their own truths, but together, they form a bigger picture. That’s what we wanted to show.
I enjoyed profiling my people, of the Todos Santos Cuchumatán, an indigenous community in Guatemala known for its rich indigenous roots that are still prevalent today. They told me stories of a community who cared for each other, who looked out for one another. Like, if someone passes away, the community comes together and donates money and gives support — not just as charity, but because they know that one day, they might need help too. I included this because even within Guatemala, not all Mam communities know about each other’s support systems. I had a family story to share — my sister’s husband wasn’t from our region, and only learned about these traditions when someone close to him passed. Writing about that felt meaningful.
But the most difficult part of this process was the researching part. This grueling process made me realize how important a project like this is, because there is such a lack of information on the Mam history that made it so difficult to research. Miguel and I spent hours at the Oakland Library, scouring the internet and the libraries books to try to find accurate information on our culture. We came to find that we had to rely on our families and our communities for this information, because they were the people that lived the history.
I’m incredibly grateful to my father, who was essential to this research process. He patiently sat with me time after time and listened to my questions and gave me answers. He loves history, always watching the news and talking about the past, especially the wars in Guatemala and how people—especially women—were treated. He was the one who really gave me insight into what life was like back then, and what it meant for him to leave.
He came to the U.S. for safety, and for opportunity. I was born here, but I never forget that everything I have is because of the sacrifices my parents made. Back then, they heard about the U.S. like it was this golden land of safety and money, where you could work and send money back to support your family. But it wasn’t that simple. Now it’s even harder, with immigration policies and ICE raids making people afraid to leave their homes. I see people in my community afraid to leave their homes, afraid to go to work or take their kids to school. I notice how much emptier our streets are and the fear that is running rampant. But a piece of paper doesn’t define us. It doesn’t erase our histories, our identities, or our worth.
That’s one reason this book matters so much. Because people don’t expect much from Mam youth. They don’t expect us to be writers, or leaders. But we are. This book proves that. When we won the Oakland Heritage Award, I was so proud — but nervous too. Speaking in front of so many people was scary, but it also meant that they were hearing our voices. My dad was especially proud. He told me how important it is that our generation knows what the older generation went through — so we can appreciate everything we have and carry our stories forward.
Now that I’ve graduated, my dream is to go to college and study nursing. I want to be the first in my family to graduate from college and I want to give back to my community. I don’t take this opportunity for granted. My parents came here to give us a better life and I want to honor that. I want to show that we can succeed — not just for ourselves, but for everyone who came before us.