Justice… What is justice? Many understand justice as those who decide to judge from their hand, based on a morality and value already granted, so that a community adheres and behaves within that pattern. However, justice is really that? Without having the absolute truth of that term, there are those of us who believe in and do justice from a humanitarian perspective in the practical and theoretical, weighing morality in a world where the person as a living entity is no longer one: he only becomes one more tool in an already imposed framework.
Who has enough capacity to say that it is just, if it defends the existence of hunger and misery knowing that we are all flesh and blood? A magistrate?, a head of state?, a military man?, a paco? Or an employee who only obeys what is already stipulated, without even thinking beyond that. The curious thing about all this is that even the most erudite being in political science adheres to the laws and way of life chosen by a minority, which has: the power of conviction, with trickery to charm others without them questioning what has been said; and they do so based on illusions and false comforts that lead to the loss of consciousness.
In life and its nuances there will be those of us who resist believing that everything must be so empty, there are those who maintain hope because our roots are deep, we are born surrounded by misery because they want us to be a commodity. However, the values that make us human make us just, make us rebels and subversives: we are the ones who seek dignity for the liberation of our people. We take our liberating weapons to confront the enemy: that same enemy who wants us subjugated.
Ready for anything, we move forward without forgetting who we are, without forgetting anything because our memory lives on and so we continue the attempts to do justice because that is the path and will be until the day I die.
That’s my story, that’s how I live to die. For the love of you who read this, I am just like you, you do not know me, I am no more than anyone else, I am the people, I am the corner of the population, I am the worker who gets up at 5 am to work, I am the mother who gets up early for her children, I am the mountain range and the sea, I am the earth and the sky, I am your brother and your neighbor, the convict, the lumpen, the bandit and the terrorist.
I am everything and at the same time nothing: but what I am least is a fascist and seller of life.
Tomás González Quezada, Subversive prisoner from the Ex penitentiary