Supporting Youth in Central America Through Narrative Practices
April 8, 2026
In the Social Justice portfolio of the CAMY Fund, we support the work of organized youth in Central America through narrative practices that highlight their journey and challenge dominant discourses.
By Melissa Zamora Monge
My experience as a program officer for the Central American Youth Fund (CAMY Fund) has led me to understand support as walking alongside, as being present in the moment or circumstance where one or more people are the focus. It is being there to offer support and try to respond to unforeseen needs, a willingness to understand the reality in which this movement takes place. It is attentive listening with patience, admiration, and curiosity.
There is a profound sense of community in support. To support is to affirm that no person or organization should do everything alone, that what they experience and build is important for those of us who walk alongside them.
It is from this understanding that, through the Social Justice portfolio, we provide support to strengthen the sustainability of organizations of young feminists, Afro-descendants, Indigenous people, LGBTQ+ individuals, and migrants in Costa Rica, Honduras, Guatemala, and El Salvador. These organizations, in turn, support other people and communities facing systems of oppression and discrimination. They provide support, and we support them.
We create spaces for the exchange of knowledge and collaboration. We support them in telling the stories of their work and in participating in strategic discussion spaces that amplify their agendas in favor of equality and the recognition of diverse identities.
If I had to think of an object that explains the act of providing support, I would think of a colorful woven bag, the kind we use to go to the market. An object that is worn, close, and practical. Inside, you put what you need because it provides support. It doesn’t have a rigid shape: if the contents are heavy, the bag stretches; if they are light, it shrinks.
Our way of providing support is like that bag. It doesn’t impose a structure, but rather adapts its form to the needs of organizations. It’s a resilient fabric, the sum of many threads. If one thread tightens, the others distribute the weight. Because accompaniment is about building a safety net so that what we put in the bag doesn’t spill out onto the floor. Of course, like any bag, accompaniment has its limits; while it can’t contain everything, it can help make the load easier to carry.
In recent months, narrative practices have become one of the ways in which, for me, accompaniment has taken shape. This approach to working with others in community, organizational, or therapeutic settings, developed by Michael White and David Epston, creators of narrative therapy, posits that our identities are composed of multiple stories, never just one, and that dominant discourses often overshadow the stories of resistance and hope that are also part of who we are.
Furthermore, this approach maintains, among other things, that individuals, groups, and communities are experts in their own lives. With these premises, narrative practices give structure to actions I was already carrying out: listening, asking questions, documenting, and connecting. They also allow me to initiate conversations in spaces of trust where organizations share stories that recognize their strengths and the interconnectedness that sustains their work.
The stories that organizations have woven together, with our support, but in their own words, validate their growth, their capacity for adaptation, and their creativity. In them, they name the reciprocal relationships that strengthen them and the perspectives that nourish their present and their ideas for the future.
Relying on narrative practices to provide support has led me to link one story to another, and others, until I recognize interconnectedness and collaboration as a common thread. In them, I see a constellation of narratives that challenge the dominant discourses that push us toward individualism. They remind me of another principle of narrative practices: that identity is a collective event.
A few days ago, I heard that “we cannot let oppression write the only story, nor allow it to have the last word.” I would add “oppression and authoritarianism.” Because telling stories about what we do has the potential to mobilize us and amplify our commitment to human rights and equality in Central America.
My hope is that we can continue telling stories about how we build ourselves together through collaboration, because it is precisely in this shared journey that accompaniment ceases to be just a common word and becomes a daily practice of transformation that I am still learning to embody.