As A Little Girl Growing Up In Colombia Fixed

, my first lullabies weren’t soft. They were loud. Not violent—just vivo . The crack of a chiva bus backfiring on a cobblestone hill. The pock-pock-pock of my mother patting masa into arepas at 6 AM. The metallic cling of an aguardiente bottle cap hitting the floor during a parranda .

Colombia is a country of hyper-diverse geography, and your playground depended on which of the five regions you called home. as a little girl growing up in colombia

: Observers note that 11- and 12-year-old girls today often display a high level of confidence and exuberance regarding their future opportunities. , my first lullabies weren’t soft