I was the only Palauan in my college classrooms
Empowered but also
Intimidated. Nervous. Scared.
I felt small.
Despite the fact I hailed from the largest ocean.
I had resilience in my blood but was afraid to use it.
Imposter syndrome was like a stubborn tick I couldn’t get rid of.
I wasn’t as smart as them.
I thought to myself, could I ever catch up?
I couldn’t give my ancestors hope just to give up.
I descended from a line of women who stood their ground and danced with pride.
What seems impossible to reach for
A woman from an island can be achieved.
Yet that was still not enough for me to feel I belonged.
I couldn’t.
My heart belonged back home.
Yet still I trusted.
I was exactly where I was meant to be.
Our voice, our words, our songs
Carry our culture and identity.
When our mothers cry
Our ancestors roar.
When our children speak up
Our ancestors rejoice.
And with the sun, we rise
And so, with the moon.
Set our sail to explore
What’s beyond the sea
And what’s within.
Hope that our children and theirs
Have a place to call home.
An identity to embrace.
I get to take the steps my ancestors couldn’t.
It is because of them I can do
Anything I set my mind to.
Step into rooms their footprints guided me to.
Because they fought and survived
Led by heart and mind,
Traces of their bravery planted seeds
Of hope and courage
For us to dream, to live, to thrive.
Their pain endured,
So that their children
Could have peace.
Their pain silenced,
So that their children may achieve.
You tell me to describe dignity.
Dignity is my mother, her mother
And her mother’s mother.
Who cry in the dark
And keep their head held high.
Something I never truly understood
Until I had a child.
They fulfill their duties as matriarchs
Over and over to a society
That unapologetically asks for more
and more.
A home built not by bricks but
Our grandmother’s silent tears
That continue to water our peace.
Resilience sharper than a spear.
Trauma is passed down
Worn with grace. Worn like a crown.
Our sisters holding the broken pieces of our
Heart together.
Weaving us back to life
Despite feeling dead inside.
And with our wounded wings, together we soar high.
PASSIONATE PALAUAN 