Anexis Matos's Blog

I’m an advocate,

though I don’t want to be one.

Do I have a choice?

Dear student,

A staff member reported that they helped you navigate around campus. Please make an appointment so we can discuss how we can help you.

Sincerely,

Allen

DeLaila rereads the email. Again? After being at Illusrian Academy for four years without any of these incidents, she thought she got lucky this time. In her previous school, she had issues with a woman from the office that was supposed to help her for accepting and asking for help from security around campus.

Her last incident occurred when she was walking down the hallway and didn’t realize she was approaching a staircase until her cane let her know. Although she found the route for where she wanted to go, a security guard told the woman that she almost fell down the stairs. DeLaila cleared everything up, but the woman suggested that she didn’t receive orientation and mobility around the school. When the orientation and mobility instructor came, she mentioned the incident and, again, DeLaila had to clear things up, but the instructor understood.

At that time, she was simply irritated. The woman was another person who had opinions about her skills. She wouldn’t be the first. Now…

She hits preply and begins to write.

Hello, Allen,

This morning, someone walked with me to the bus stop and they helped me navigate. There’s a lot of snow, making navigation difficult. I want to make clear that I didn’t ask him for help. We walked together for a few minutes and he attempted to help me.

I know who wrote to you because I asked him for help the previous semester to find a classroom in a very confusing building. This said, it doesn’t give him the right to write to you and insinuate that I had issues navigating. When we were walking together, we were in conversation. He had the opportunity to ask me questions and chose not to communicate like the adult he is.

I don’t need your help. When I need it, I’ll write to you. Don’t write to me about this again. I don’t plan to waste my time on misunderstandings.

DeLaila sends the email. She probably should have waited until she calmed down, but the humiliation won’t let her.

Your contribution is appreciated.

Your contribution is appreciated.

Your contribution is appreciated.

Fiction can do what history can’t. History refers to real events in our past with dates and people we never met and will never meet. Fiction refers to a piece of art that tells a story. While history may tell a story, it’s never as compelling. It’s not an emotional recounting as fiction would give. Fiction can make you care like history never will.

When historical events are adapted to fiction, it can be a good way to bring awareness to their importance. This was the case with the Mirabal sisters. In 1994, Julia Alvarez published In the Time of the Butterflies, a historical fiction novel detailing the lives of the women who are now heroes. The women fought to topple a dictatorship that spanned three decades. Led by Rafael Leonidas Trujillo, it was a period where Dominicans were oppressed and where democracy didn’t exist, though there was the illusion of it.

Originally written in English, In the Time of the Butterflies brought the story of the Mirabal sisters to an international audience. This included the Dominicans who lived in the US. Dominicans who lived through the dictatorship and understood all it cost the country and its people. When it was translated into Spanish, it was even more successful, widening the story’s audience.

This is the power of an adaptation. When something is adapted to another medium, the goal is to introduce it to a different audience and get them interested in the original source material. However, an adaptation should also be able to hold its own. It should tell its story without depending on its audience looking for the original source material. It should aim to give the audience a complete story, leaving nothing important out.

Enter the movie adaptation of In the Time of the Butterflies. It’s reasonable to assume the film attempted to do what the book did. It’s also reasonable to assume that it brought the story to people who didn’t know about the book or are not avid readers. Unfortunately, the film doesn’t tell a complete story. It tells a story, but not the one of the original source material.

No adaptation will ever be perfect. Changes will have to be made. These changes will depend on the medium to which the original source material will be adapted to. For a film, most details will have to be cut, especially if it’s a novel. A film is like a short story. Unfortunately, it’s very limited by length.

The book tells the story of all four sisters, including Dedé who didn’t participate in the rebellion. Patria, Minerva, and María Teresa’s chapters are written in first person. Patria and Minerva’s chapters are written in traditional narrative. María Teresa’s, however, are written in journal entries. Ded€’s chapters are written in third person, with the exception of the epilogue which switches to first person. The story is also told in two timelines. Patria, Minerva, and María Teresa’s chapters take place from their childhood to their death in 1960. Most of Ded€’s chapters are written in the present timeline, 1994.

The story begins with Dedé accepting an interview request. The interviewer’s questions lead to flashbacks. The interviewer serves as the plot device to bring out the story as Dedé remembers it. The book makes clear that Dedé is telling the story, though the chapters in the past are told in her sisters’ points of view.

Minú, Minerva’s daughter comes to visit Dedé as the interviewer is leaving. She’s the one who asks the question that leads to the final chapters of the story. These final chapters detail the events that lead up to the assassination of Patria, Minerva, and María Teresa on their way back home from visiting their husbands. It also contains the epilogue which details events after their deaths.

The book takes a lot of time to detail the sisters’ lives. Most of the story is dedicated to making them human in the reader’s eyes. Yes, they were heroes, but they were also women with their own lives. They married in love. They had children. They were sisters. By the end, their deaths are impactful because readers got to see them as humans, not heroes. They’re heroic because they were everyday women with a mission.

Another thing the book built up well is why the sisters are known as the butterflies. Everyone had a code name in the rebellion to remain unidentified. This was theirs with Minerva as the original butterfly.

While the movie may have brought the story to a wider audience, it doesn’t tell the story of the Mirabal sisters. It tells the story of Minerva Mirabal. Even then, it doesn’t tell it well. Not even bothering to characterize her, it tells her story in a sequence of events without the addition of what led to them. Her sisters become side characters when they were main characters. For the movie, the title is misleading as her sisters don’t play a part of this story. The movie makes it look like Minerva was the only one who played the biggest part in Trujillo’s toppling and that her sisters were dragged into it.

Where the book tells a clear story, the movie is difficult to follow. Scenes come one after another without structure or flow. Time passes, but it’s difficult to tell what’s happening. I also found it difficult to pay attention as its flow affected the story’s cohesion.

The story is told in Minerva’s point of view. In a few points during the movie, she will narrate, telling the viewer specific details about the time. She also lets the viewer into her mind. It’s similar to a first person point of view. Her narration doesn’t happen often, however. It usually only happens when the movie wants to highlight an important event, such as when María Teresa, Leandro, Pedrito, Manolo, and she were imprisoned. While not extremely graphic, torture is shown and she highlights what she held on to in order to survive.

Much of the story dramatizes Trujillo’s acts during that time. It takes focus away from the women who, like everyone else in Dominican Republic, were victims of the oppressive dictatorship. It reminds me about how true crime is criticized for giving attention to the criminals rather than the victims. Perhaps the movie wanted to point out the horrors to inform the viewers that this was a very bloody period. However, it only succeeds in not telling the story of the women represented in the film.

Another event the movie dramatizes is the death of the Mirabal sisters. As mentioned previously, they were killed on their way back home from visiting their husbands. They were intercepted over a mountain road and their driver, Rufino de la Cruz was killed. At gunpoint, the sisters were kidnapped. They were beaten and strangled. Their bodies, along with their driver’s, were placed in the car and it was pushed off a cliff to make it look like an accident.

I can’t be sure how graphic this was in the movie. However, based on the sound, it appeared to be very graphic. Either way, this is how the movie ends. If the film wanted to bring awareness to these events, why end it like this? Why not show their legacy? The final impact? With this ending, rather than being impactful, the deaths feel hollow.

By ending like this, the movie doesn’t highlight that the women became martyrs to the revolution. The women were killed in November 25, 1960 and Trujillo was killed six months later on May 30, 1961. This ended his dictatorship. However, the authoritarian tradition continued to be held up by his successor, Joaquin Balaguer.

I’d like to bring your attention to the lack of focus on Trujillo in this essay. In her book, Alvarez’s focus on him is very limited. He only appears as necessary, something the movie, unfortunately, doesn’t adhere to. In my writing, I’ve chosen not to focus so much on him as Alvarez did. Focusing on Trujillo would taint the memory of the women who gave their lives for their country. However, in order to understand why the sisters’ deaths was so impactful, I begrudgingly have to talk about him.

The Mirabal sisters became martyrs to the revolutionary cause because the Dominican people could not stomach the killing of women. Their deaths were too much because Trujillo presented himself as a champion of women and mothers. He granted full female suffrage in 1942. In 1945, he sent one of the first female delegates of any country to the United Nations. He used these actions as a testament to his progressive attitude.

It was also known that Trujillo liked women. Many would hide their daughters when he was visiting their town. He also sent his secret police to look for girls. Very young girls. No one had a choice as it would not have been wise to oppose him.

Although many were killed in his time, including children, the killing of women was too much. Out of all his crimes, this one had the greatest effect. The Dominican people were horrified. It, according to a biographer, “did something to their machismo.”

It took years, but the Mirabal sisters were recognized as heroes, both nationally and internationally. Minerva, who studied law and graduated with the highest honors, but was prohibited from practicing by Trujillo was even given the title she deserves, summa cum laude. Their faces are in the 200 peso bill and a statue that Trujillo made of himself is now covered with murals of them.

They’re survived by their children and grandchildren they didn’t have the chance to meet. Dedé also dedicated her life to making sure they were not forgotten. The home the Mirabal sisters used to live at is now a museum. You can find pictures, items that belonged to them, and María Teresa’s braid which Dedé cut before she was buried.

Ded€’s work, however, is done, both literally and figuratively. She died at age 87 in 2014. As Dominican citizens, we benefit from the work done by the Mirabal sisters as well as others who fought for freedom during the dictatorship. We can’t afford to forget our history. We must make sure to remember the butterflies.

Are you here for me

or for something you want to

see from us today?

You were once a friend,

but too many demands signaled our end.

Your constant necesity for perfection

led me into a world of deception.

When I crossed a line you didn’t like,

judgments flew like battle cries.

I wanted to make you a distant memory,

but realized without you it’s hard to breathe.

I kept you at arms length

and learned not to bend.

We’re still friends, you and I,

but time will tell if it will reach the sky.

I stared at the assignment,

unsure what to do.

I had not done the first part,

but there were already problems.

I could only comment

on one person’s reply.

You wanted me

to let the teacher know.

I considered it,

but saw it was only five points,

so I ignored you.

I did the first part of the assignment.

Submitted it.

Responded

to the only person I could.

You pushed

for me to explain why to the teacher,

but I ignored you.

You’re not always right.

You push too far.

Take too many liberties.

What would have been the point anyway?

The assignment

was only worth five points,

but that doesn’t matter to you,

so I have to fight you.

When you speak to me,

you disappear like ocean waves.

You only return

when your friend

translates your words.

“You never understand me!”

You slap my fingers with a rigid ruler,

but it’s less painful than before.

Before,

you were more present.

You were like homemade lemonade or orange juice,

more sweet than sour.

Now you’re like salt water.

My eyes itch.

My fingers hurt.

I don’t have many words to talk to you

like I do with your friend.

Your friend is calm.

Maternal.

With the patience of a good teacher,

she offers words and alternatives.

You’re her shadow,

looking for a place to shine.

I don’t remember

how I met her,

but I remember

being her student.

She was frightening,

a shadow

watching my every move.

I grew quiet around her,

hoping to make my life a little easier.

It didn’t work,

but it was easier

than having a conversation with her.

I always wondered where you were.

Were you close?

Far away?

Unwilling to get involved?

Maybe somewhere in between?

I don’t know,

but I think I may have seen you.

The moments

were few and far between.

They were rare,

but welcomed,

even if I said nothing.

You stood beside all of them.

The scary teacher

who always wanted more.

The aid and teacher

who looked out for me

when she was there.

But I didn’t see you.

It could have been

my imagination.

You’re an unlikely

friend to me, but I wonder

when your friendship ends.

I’m back for a bittersweet announcement. I’ve been considering this blog for some time and realized I need a change. I burned out on my previous content. It was very time-consuming for very little and it became too much.

I’ve decided to, at least for now, not post written reviews. I’ll still be reviewing books on my YouTube channel which I’ll share here, so you’ll still be able to get my opinions. I might write reviews, but, like with audio description critiques, only if there’s something I really want to say.

I won’t be pushing myself to post on a schedule. I’ve really been enjoying dropping occasional posts. I plan to publish creative writing. This will include poetry, flash fiction, short stories, and, whenever I’m in the mood, creative nonfiction. I hope you enjoy this new direction, even though I may not always be posting. I do have a bunch of poems I have edited that I’ll publish in the next few weeks, but, after that, I don’t know what comes next.

Finally, I’ve decided to shelve The Rightful Bride. I know at least a few of you enjoyed it and I did too. However, I couldn’t follow the schedule I wanted. Also, my hope was to show writers that first drafts aren’t perfect. One of the biggest lessons I learned is that, sometimes, you have to shelve a project in the first draft. It can be for any reason.

Thanks for reading today. I’ll see you next week.