Support AfroCaribbeanIndigenous Sibling create Stability and Safety in Motherland Venezuela

Hola, I’m Meru!! I trust this reaches the right peoples. Thank you. My intention is to call in support for my health, safety, and to continue the work I’m devoted to and called to do! I will explain my life situation in the most honest, vulnerable, and clear way. I try to write this shortly, but girl, it’s been too much for me to hold... and yet, I have a little light of trust and hope I will be seen, felt, and supported by people who feel and understand me. I know my work has been deeply inspiring to many, so I trust. Because trust and faith are all we have left.

I am a Venezuelan activist, artist, farmer, herbalist, musician, dancer, priestess, and healer—devoted to protecting Mother Nature, community, ancestral activation, liveliness, and decolonization. At the end of the day, I’m just a girl who needs support.

In 2020, when the global pandemic hit, I grabbed all my savings that were initially meant for Venezuela, but I went to Ecuador, because I couldn't enter Venezuela because of closed borders and the Venezuelan 'crisis'. In Ecuador I lived on a farm "off-grid," aka natural ancestral style. My Rastafari Life, aka Afro-Caribbean Indigenous dream. I had a flourishing farm filled with love, fruits, and vegetables. But then, there was a man—a violent, obsessive, controlling man—who made it impossible for me to stay there, and I had to leave everything behind: all my money invested in that home, almost three years of my life, my dog baby who then died... my dreams.

I have faced patriarchal violence in many forms. And it has come to a point where I truly need to be held. This is very scary to share and obviously puts me in danger, but again, living already does as a woman, as a queer/indigenous person, as an honest person who deeply cares and will never quit against hate and oppression. Because I do not have the privilege to quit. I was born a girl—of course, everything is my fault.

Later, I moved to Costa Rica, also had to leave because of a crazy man and an unsupportive community who shamed, blamed, and isolated me...

Sidenote, I faced violence / harassments aswell in The Netherlands aswell, since I was a kid, this is a global issue and patriarchal sickness..

Then finally, after 17 years, I recently returned to Venezuela!!! My biggest life dream—to the pueblo/village I was born and am deeply in love with. This village I honor deeply, and it is a very important African and Indigenous Caribbean village—the land of cacao. I dreamt of reuniting with my land and family and creating a safe, nurturing home, finally after years of not having my own. However, I’ve faced unexpected challenges and lies. My family misled me about land and housing opportunities, and I found that I no longer have access to the land where I planned to build a community space, a farm, and my home. I feel they just wanted me to build a house for them—that they have this idea because I have an Amite dad and because I had left Venezuela, I am able to support them financially. Even though I’ve said many times, my dad is not present in my life, and I’ve shared, not as deep as in this text, what I’ve been through. Again, I want to remember, this has nothing to do with who I am. This happens to a lot of incredible, intelligent women—that we live in a violent patriarchal world where we are not protected. This has been deeply stressful, especially as I arrived during a vulnerable time for me, missing an important Afro-Indigenous tradition in this pueblo and celebration that connects me to my heritage and ancestors. More importantly, I have no home or money for food. As you may know, Venezuela is going through a lot due to colonialism and exploitation, which they call an economic crisis. On top of that, the recent earthquakes have caused much destruction to the existing infrastructure and goods, a lot of rebuilding and resources are needed. Because I am a farmer and have been living on farms for the last six years, food wouldn’t be the main problem, but now both housing and food have been canceled last minute. I’ve had to spend the last of my money on last-minute solutions for housing, which is really expensive. And it’s extremely stressful as I’m alone here, with no family support, as they are also struggling and perhaps facing discrimination because I come from outside Venezuela—even though that was never my choice, dream, or fault.

Right now, I’m without stable housing. Finding affordable and welcoming places is very difficult here, especially for someone like me—the way I look, and I have an accent that often makes people believe I’m not Venezuelan. I want to stay in Venezuela, get to know my country, and continue my work, but I need your support to:

• Renew my Venezuelan passport ($250)

• Cover travel expenses to Caracas and find safe, temporary housing nearby for the two weeks it takes to renew the passport, which I need if I have to leave the country (there was a bombing here in January and heavy earthquakes in June and July), and I also really want my Venezuelan passport again

• Secure housing for at least two months to settle and plan my next steps (around $400 per month)

• Purchase a plane ticket to leave Venezuela when I’m ready (about $400 to nearby Caribbean countries)

I would love to offer an exchange for the donation, although honestly I am not in a place where I can promise to do so. I’ve been really struggling with my health, and now even my hair is falling out...

I’m sharing this with a lot of fear and vulnerability, worried about judgment or being misunderstood. I’ve been blamed and shamed a lot for patriarchal violence I’ve faced, being a woman, and the person I am. But my hope and love for Venezuela and its people remain strong. I believe in our resilience and in protecting our land, culture, and identities. With your help, I can rebuild my life here and continue contributing to my community.

Note on Country Selection: I chose the Netherlands for this GoFundMe campaign because I have a bank card there, and because Venezuela is not an option on this website. This also highlights the ongoing discrimination and disadvantage Venezuelans face in accessing international support.

Thank you for reading, for your support, and for holding space for my journey. Every contribution means the world and brings me closer to healing and building a future.

With gratitude,

Meru