Kassandra Robledo

La Hermana Mayor

“When you’re the eldest daughter, the weight of the world falls on you,”

Soy la madre de mis hermanos,
niña-madre desde los ocho años,
la que los arropa y canta sus sueños,
la que no puede fallar, porque todo se viene abajo.

Me dijeron, y es verdad.
Como pegamento, sostengo los pedazos:
mi madre ausente,
mi padre presente, pero perdido en otros lazos.

Cada comida que preparo,

Cada herida que sano,

Cada sueño que guardo callado,

Todo es por ellos, hasta que dejemos de sobrevivir y podamos sanar.

Sin libertad,

Sin infancia,

Sin tregua,

no descanso—no soy libre hasta que ellos lo sean.
"Ellos no pueden sanar si yo no estoy completa,"
hasta que sus alas no dependan de las mías.

Todo es por ellos, hasta el final,
porque en nuestra cultura, en mi sangre,
la hija mayor siempre camina primero,
para que los otros puedan ser libres después.

The Eldest Daughter

I am the mother of my siblings—a child-mother since I was eight. The one who tucks them in and sings to them at night. The one who braids their hair and ties their shoes. The last face they see at night and the first in the morning.

I am their sun and I am their moon.

I am the one who cannot fail because the world, their world would collapse.

“When you’re the eldest daughter, the weight of the world falls on you,” is what I was told, and it's true. Like glue, I hold together what is left—a mother that was taken away, a father present but lost in another world. I take the pieces of a healing mother and a broken father, gluing them, to make a mixmatched puzzle. That’s our family.

Every meal I cook,

Every wound I heal,

Every hand I hold,

Every tear I swipe,

Every dream I silently bury—it's all for them.

The four of us are still here, still trying to survive. It’s all for them until we stop merely surviving, can I think about myself. Until we stop trying to survive, can we truly heal.

But will I ever really be able to heal. My body carries more than blood. I carry the traumas of generations past and present. I carry the soul of everyone, the burden for everyone. I carry all of this, each day since I was eight. Without freedom, without a childhood, without reprieve.

Without rest.

I do not rest, because I will not rest until the rest. I will not let go until they are let go. I can’t heal until they are whole. I can’t heal until their wings no longer depend on mine.

Everything is for them,

Everything till the end,

Because in our culture, the eldest daughter always walks first,

So the others can walk free after.