A version of this article originally appeared on VICE Mexico. Leer en Español.On a six-day tour through the Free and Sovereign State of Chiapas last month, María de Jesús Patricio Martínez Marichuy transgressed traditional Mexican politics by making her struggle against machismo apparent—and indigenous girls and women visible.
In a country that registers an average of seven femicides per day and is governed by a male political class in crisis over high levels of corruption and impunity, the message of the first indigenous woman candidate seeking the presidency in the history of Mexico is reverberating.
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In the closing event in Oventic, Chiapa—home of the Zapatista Army of the National Liberation (EZLN) rebel group—covered by mist and intermittent drizzle, Marichuy, a representative of the Mexican government's Indigenous Council (ICG), said that women are the ones who feel the deepest pain due to the murders, disappearances, and imprisonments arbitrarily committed in the country.
"But it's precisely because we are the ones who feel the deepest pain, because we [experience] the greatest oppressions, that we women are also capable of feeling the deepest rage," she said. "And we must be able to transform that rage in an organized way in order to go on the offensive to dismantle the power from above, building with determination and without fear, the power from below."
The historic character of that pain in Mexico was palpable at the event. On the stage was Regina Santiago Rodríguez, a member of the legendary Eureka Committee of the Disappeared—a group of mothers whose children were abducted and systematically tortured during Mexico's Dirty War, a shadow government campaign waged against left-wing dissidents between the late 1970s and 1980s. Regina was mother to Irma Cruz Santiago, who disappeared in 1977. Standing next to her was Hilda Hernández, mother of César Manuel González, one of the 43 Mexican students at a teachers' college who notoriously disappeared in 2014.
On her way through various peasant communities, Marichuy was equally forceful in her defense of the natural resources that are being threatened or have already been ravaged by the government or powerful multinational companies.
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Marichuy—a native Nahua woman born in Tuxpan, in the western state of Jalisco—was clear about her feminist politics throughout her speech. That stance was also on display throughout her various campaign actions in the marginalized southeast region of Mexico, where especially profound gender inequalities exist thanks to a persistent cultural tradition of men dominating decision-making at every level.Fifty indigenous councilors—all of them women—from the ICG, and hailing from different parts of Mexico, accompanied the candidate at each of her events, sharing the microphone and seats on stage. And it was exclusively women and girls from ethnic groups such as Tzeltal, Tojolabal, Tzotzil, Choles, who participated during the welcoming and artistic presentations.The voice of the military command of the EZLN was also delivered exclusively via its female commanders: Everilda, Amada, Rosalinda, Miriam, and Hortencia (Zapatista tradition is to use only one name).
Yes, this was a special time for women. Not a single man took the microphone during the tour, which was held from October 14 to 19. When men were visible—especially in the security cordons of Zapatista militiamen, who were equipped with nightsticks—there was usually a female presence among them. The scene was dominated by indigenous girls who expressed their anti-capitalist positions, and offered performances reflecting their empowerment in the fields of health, education, and other essential jobs in their communities.
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Perhaps even more remarkable than the gender dynamics on display was the presence of non-partisan indigenous families and even supporters of Mexico's Institutional Revolutionary Party (PRI). This despite the fact that there was no distribution of food or souvenir posters—a well-known political practice known in México as acarreo.On the night before the start of the final event in Oventic, for example, we came across a young couple who have previously supported the PRI and hailed from San Andrés Larráinzar, a neighboring community that upholds traditions such as caciquismo—essentially a local version of machine boss politics where power is maintained over a rural region through corrupt means. They sold coffee and atole, a traditional warm cornmeal drink, on the road. The woman, Karla, was 18 years old and making her first incursion into Zapatista territory to listen to Marichuy's speech. Her parents were non-partisan and her in-laws were supporters of the PRI party. But all of them were on hand for the campaign event.
Living in autonomy
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The tour of the healer
In search of what's needed
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