Memory, Migration, & the Power of Our Untold Histories: A Conversation with Pablo Leon

Pablo Leon's Graphic Novel Silenced Voices: Reclaiming Memories form the Guatemalan Genocide

Pablo Leon is a Guatemalan-American author and artist whose work bridges the worlds of animation, comics, and documentary filmmaking. Currently based in Los Angeles, Leon has emerged as a vital voice in contemporary graphic storytelling, particularly in narratives exploring Central American history, migration, and intergenerational trauma. His 2019 Eisner Award-nominated comic The Journey brought intimate attention to the experiences of unaccompanied child migrants. He has since illustrated Marvel's acclaimed Miles Morales: Shock Waves and Stranger Tides graphic novels with writer Justin A. Reynolds, worked with major studios including Disney, Warner Bros, and Nickelodeon, and continues to create powerful narratives that illuminate often-silenced histories.

His latest work, Silenced Voices, represents the culmination of over a decade of research and reflection on the Guatemalan Civil War and its lasting impact on multiple generations. The graphic novel weaves together historical documentation with personal experience to create what Leon describes as a bridge for conversation—particularly for younger generations who have been denied access to their own histories.

Frederick Luis Aldama: Pablo, welcome. It's wonderful to have you here to discuss your incredible body of work. Let's start with your journey—from Guatemala to DC to LA, and eventually into animation and comics. Can you walk us through that path, touching on works like The Journey and your Miles Morales graphic novels?

Pablo Leon: Thank you for having me. I grew up in Guatemala during the tail end of our armed conflict—I still saw the dying embers of it, the peace accords, everything. When my parents migrated here, we settled in the DC, Maryland, Virginia area. I've always wanted to do comics—that's been my thing. Though I fell into animation through a friend from school (and you don't just "fall" into animation—it's hard work), comics remained my passion.

Between Atlanta and Los Angeles, I wrote The Journey, where I interviewed a girl—now a woman—about her unaccompanied crossing from Central America through Mexico in 2005. That was when we saw this huge influx of unaccompanied migrant children. The comic's Eisner nomination opened doors, leading to the Scholastic-Marvel collaboration on Miles Morales: Shock Waves.

What I loved about that project was its contained nature—you only need to know Spider-Man basics. But it also explored Miles's Puerto Rican heritage, addressing the earthquake that devastated the island and the resilience of its people. It was geared toward kids but dealt with real, substantial themes.

"When I came to the US, it was like nothing. No one's talking about [the Guatemalan Civil War]. It's still to this day unknown."

Aldama: Your new book, Silenced Voices, combines historical research on the Guatemalan Civil War with immigrant experience in an expansive way. There's a tradition in Latin America—the testimonio, exemplified by Rigoberta Menchú's "I as we" narrative. Does that resonate with your approach? And who is your ideal reader for this work?

Leon: The testimonio tradition is complex, especially in Guatemala where we have a large indigenous Maya population who were the primary targets during our 36-year armed conflict. The 1980s were the worst period, which is where I focus the story.

What's tragic is that we barely talk about it in Guatemala. When we do, people say, "Why are you bringing this up?" But it's crucial we acknowledge that this affected mostly the indigenous population. Now that many Indigenous people can speak about what happened to their families, you see these anti-Indigenous, racist feelings surfacing—people saying, "How dare you speak about these things?"

As for my audience—I've come to realize that many adults have already made up their minds about history and belief. But middle grade and high school students, teenagers—they're more open. They have time to research, discuss, and develop empathy. This is a YA story aimed at opening discussion, at helping them understand: remember what happened so it doesn't happen again.

My hope is that it makes its way to Latin America, to Guatemala, because this history isn't taught in schools there. It's a blip in education at best. I want this to be a bridge to open conversation.

Aldama: Clara's silence in your title Silenced Voices speaks to trauma so deep she dare not address it. It takes the televised Ríos Montt trial for her to finally open up to her sons. Can you discuss that parallel between personal and societal silence?

Page from Silenced Voices

Leon: Those pages at the end of the first chapter are crucial. You meet the second brother, see their dynamic—one curious, one not wanting to stir things up but with a contentious relationship with his mom. She's had this blow-up of anger earlier, going through emotional trauma, and finally decides to open up.

We address the most contentious question in Guatemala: Was there a genocide? Based on documents, research, books—yes, there was. I've interviewed people who went through similar experiences. They don't break when telling these stories; they just tell you what happened, calm but to the point.

"Our children are the continuation of the struggle."

That's the second most important line for me. The kids' struggle is not knowing their history, wanting to learn more, but that history is massive, all over the place. And first and second generation immigrants have our own struggles living in the US. It's a never-ending cycle that's hard to break.

Aldama: Let's discuss your visual choices. On pages 64-65, we have this tremendous scene between mother and daughter. Comics is such a visually driven narrative form—how did you approach depicting violence in this historical context?

Leon: This used to have more visual, depicted violence. But after consuming so much research about the level of violence that happened, something clicked. If this is affecting me just through words, I don't think it's responsible to visually depict it all.

It's crucial to be responsible about things that happened to real people. Most violence here happens off-screen—you see it starting but don't see it fully. That's more powerful than... I don't want to say it's pornographic to show that level of violence, but there's a line.

I learned this from my short film Remember Us about the Salvadoran Civil War. Initially, we had lots of onscreen violence that felt like shock value. The beauty of animation and comics is they take so long to make—you learn as you go. The last thing you want is to make someone so uncomfortable they stop reading when you have something important to say.

Violence has its place and time. For this book, we needed subtlety. You can only imagine what happened to people. Some things I fought to keep—not visual violence, but how soldiers referred to people as subhuman. That needed to stay because it's historically what happened.

Aldama: How do you decide pacing and paneling to control the emotional rhythm? Has your animation work influenced this?

Leon: Pacing is about having moments to rest, to breathe. Not every panel needs text or dialogue. Those quiet moments are essential. Like page 64, after they witness their father's death—we have this spread where they don't say anything, just cry and hug. A whole page is like a long shot in film.

Being historical fiction means we must discuss certain things, but we can also develop these characters because they exist, they live. It's not just throwing historical facts at readers but taking them through a journey. When they're hiding in the mountains, you have quiet moments where they're mad at each other but not speaking—just existing.

Aldama: Your color palette shifts depending on point of view and emotion. Can you discuss those choices?

Leon: We have flashbacks within flashbacks, and those are in one tone to avoid confusing readers. But I consciously decided not to change much between present and past. I wanted the full experience—this is what they lived, not just "the past." We spend most time in the past, and I wanted them to coexist in the same world.

The book took longer than normal—usually two years for a graphic novel, this took about four. My drawing style changed throughout. By the end, when a character is in the '90s punk scene in Latin spaces, I didn't want it in different colors. I needed it to exist as I witnessed it—in full color.

Aldama: There's a powerful line: "Until Mom talked to us, I felt a part of who we were was denied to us." The brothers become more mindful, even activist. Can you discuss that transformation?

Leon: That's the most important line to me. Someone said this during my research, and it struck something in me. During the Argentine dictatorship, many migrants who left had no idea about the trials that put the military on trial. There are these holes in our history that don't feel like they're for us, but they're still part of us through our parents, our lineage.

"A part of them being denied... some people felt that."

As first or second generation, it becomes complicated—are we really part of that? Are we allowed to be? It's a salad of feelings. That's where you start feeling this needs to be more important. We see this character becoming maybe too obsessed, creating conflict with his brother, but it's how some people feel. It was important to show that.

Aldama: Are Remember Us, Silenced Voices, and The Journey all part of a larger project exploring Guatemalan history and memory?

Leon: I've wanted to make something like this for almost twelve years. Originally, I wanted a book about conflicts in Central America. When I came to the States, none of this was being talked about. Guatemala has great food, coffee, wonderful culture, very kind people. But the things that ruined our countries, that we still feel in our society—those weren't discussed.

Remember Us is a sister project to Silenced Voices. There's even a character cameo from the film in the book because they exist in the same world. As I've grown older, I realized we need to talk about these things because we're forgetting them. Our youth barely get taught this. It brings dignity to everyone we lost, to people we never found—keeping this alive.

But I have to be honest—it's not always healthy to only do this work. The research can be really heavy. You hear stories that stay with you. That's why I enjoy the Miles Morales books, animation, kids' shows—they provide balance.

Eventually, I don't necessarily want to keep doing only this, but to be a trampoline. If someone says, "I also want to talk about these things," and this book helps open that door—absolutely, use me. The more of us that talk about these things, we win.

Aldama: What upcoming projects can you share with us?

Leon: I have another book at HarperCollins that should be revealed soon. I'm working on a hybrid live-action/animation documentary that touches on the armed conflict but focuses more on future generations in Guatemala—where are we going now?

I'm developing another documentary about Isabel de los Ángeles Ruano, a famous Guatemalan poet who's become an urban legend but was really abandoned by the state. It's about what society does to artists and creatives—we treat them well once they're dead, but while alive, we leave them behind.

I'm also pitching an animated movie about migration that we can discuss with children, based on a book by Mexican author Jairo Buitrago. We're hoping to push it forward next year.

The audience for these projects is me—I'm the main audience, and everyone else comes along. Hopefully they'll get made soon.

Aldama: Pablo, thank you for taking us on this journey—not only in our conversation but through your gorgeous Silenced Voices, a journey of memory, silence, intergenerational trauma, and the power of storytelling.

About Silenced Voices

In this moving intergenerational tale, Eisner-nominated creator Pablo Leon combines historical research of the Guatemalan Civil War with his own experiences as a Guatemalan immigrant. Set between Langley Park, Maryland in 2013 and Petén, Guatemala in 1982, the story follows brothers Jose and Charlie as they learn about their mother Clara's buried past when the genocide trial of Efraín Ríos Montt brings long-silenced histories to light. Told from multiple perspectives, Silenced Voices explores collective trauma, memory, and the weight of untold histories across generations.

See also the Latinx Pop Mag review of Silenced Voices here!