The act of reviving can be tenacious; it tells us that there is something worth holding on to, worth the effort of continued endurance. Whether that tenacity reveals itself through an overworn sweater that once belonged to abuelito or a tradition that was once subject to erasure generations ago but now lives on at the dinner table, revival can appear as a revolutionary act of remembrance. 


The act of reviving can also be dangerous; it rips through the nails and tangled barbed wire put forth to limit our access. These barriers are built over time, generating layers and layers of sediment until the consequent erosion leaves the answers we seek illegible. Revival can be for our own good but also against our better interests. “BEWARE,” the gates to our curiosities may say, reminding us that some stones are better left unturned. Or are they?


The act of reviving can be so full of love; it washes away our tendencies to hide from what brings us together. It reminds us that even amidst all the subtle efforts to stratify us further away from each other as humans, reviving our shared ideas, passions, cultures, and quirks illustrates the fragility of social structures that aim to suppress what makes us stronger.