Student Posts – Page 2 – Indigenous Rights in Latin America

Chile’s Comando Jungla: An agent of racism

Emma Ferrer on June 10, 2019

Content Warning: Police Brutality
In November of 2018, a young Mapuche man was driving his tractor when he was involved in an ‘exchange’ of gunfire, which later turned out to be just the police firing at the young man, killing him, in an all too familiar case of police brutality. The police claimed he ‘fit a description’ and were ‘acting in self defense.’ The man was found to be unarmed, contrary to the police departments claims. This case added to the long and complicated history between the police the Mapuche, inciting protests against the injustice experienced by the Mapuche people at the hands of the police. Piñera, the right-wing Chilean president, after pressure from protesters following the November 2018 case, made a statement about new leadership and conflict resolution, but the Mapuche people know they are empty words.
These types of protests, demonstrations, and riots by the Mapuche are cited as the reason a comando jungla, in addition to the normal police force, is necessary on their lands under the pretense of combating terrorism. The action was enabled by the terrorism Law 18.314 written into the constitution during the Chilean dictatorship, that is still in place today, intending to silence political opposition with little regard for the due process of law to consolidate Pinochet’s power. Trained in the U.S. and Colombia starting in 2007, the special force was deployed to the region that contains the Mapuche ancestral lands, the epicenter of the activism that is actively fighting for land rights and autonomy for their people. The state has used police force as a social control born out of explicit racism against the Mapuche. These actions and policies are part of the larger agenda to erase indigenous culture and subjugate indigenous people into the western hierarchy to benefit the neoliberal machine of the elite.

Indigenous Languages: Access to Language Learning Services

becerraa on June 10, 2019

This is a small list of different language learning tools collected by students of the class. Language is an important aspect of culture, however, many of the indigenous peoples sometimes struggle linguistically. The population who speak indigenous languages is few, so sometimes they are not able to communicate. The dominance of Spanish and the forced learning of it affected communities. We compiled links with access to language learning tools for indigenous languages to increase their visibility.

MULTIPLE LANGUAGES AND SERVICES

Duolingo: https://www.duolingo.com/
Offers GUARANÍ, NAVAJO, and HAWAI’IAN

Native Languages: http://www.native-languages.org/

The Live Lingua School: https://www.livelingua.com/

The Talking Dictionary Series by Living Tongues:
https://livingtongues.org/talking-dictionaries/
Offers indigenous languages spoken in Peru, Bolivia, Paraguay, Chile, and USA

GUARANÍ

Language resource by Native Languages: http://www.native-languages.org/guarani.htm

MAORI

The Complete English-Maori Dictionary: http://www.maorilanguage.info/mao_lang_faq.html

MAPUDUNGUN (Mapuche)

Mapuche to Spanish dictionary: https://yazg.wordpress.com/diccionario-mapudungun/

A Mapuche language learning site:
http://educagratis.cl/moodle/course/view.php?id=464

NAHUATL

The Nahuatl Dictionary: https://nahuatl.uoregon.edu/

OBJIWE

The Objiwe People’s Dictionary: https://ojibwe.lib.umn.edu

A Dictionary fo the Objiway Language by Nichols Baraga and John Nichols

QUECHUA

English-Quechua Dictionary created by the Institute of Education Services: https://eric.ed.gov/?id=ED012031, https://files.eric.ed.gov/fulltext/ED012031.pdf

Quechua-Spanish-English dictionary by Clodoalso Soto: http://www.clacs.illinois.edu/quechua/documents/QuechuaDicc.pdf

Live Quechua Lessons by Barry Brian Werger: http://www.ullanta.com/quechua/#livelessons

English to Quechua dictionary by Glosbe: https://glosbe.com/en/qu.

WAYUUNAIKI

A translating tool based on Basic Illustrated Dictionary; Wayuunaiki-Spanish; Spanish-Wayuunaiki (Diccionario básico ilustrado; Wayuunaiki-Español; Español-Wayuunaiki):
https://pueblosoriginarios.com/lenguas/wayuu.php

A Wayuunaiki to Spanish illustrated dictionary: https://www.academia.edu/9990081/DICCIONARIO_B%C3%81SICO_ILUSTRADO_WAYUUNAIKI-ESPA%C3%91OL_ESPA%C3%91OL-WAYUUNAIKI

YAQUI

A web resource by the Native Languages of America:
http://www.native-languages.org/yaqui.htm

Indigenous Rights Organization

delgadoe on June 10, 2019

The Beginning

One of the Indigenous movements in Mexico is the Zapatista Army of National Liberation (Ejército Zapatista de Liberación Nacional). They are a far-left libertarian-socialist political and guerrilla group founded on November 17, 1983 by non-Indigenous members of the National Libertarian Forces and Indigenous inhabitants in Chiapas, Mexico. They hold control of most of the southernmost states in Mexico. This movement was named after Emiliano Zapata, who was the main leader of the peasant revolution in Morelos.

The EZLN has grown among the Indigenous communities and the peasant organizations. The Zapatistas’ main goals were land reform and redistribution, political and cultural autonomy for Indigenous groups, and protection for these Indigenous communities. The North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) and the privatization of land, specifically communal farms were the main policies that began the EZLN movement. They saw themselves as a revolution against the rise of neoliberalism and became a platform to raise awareness of the inequality in Mexican society. The EZLN wanted more democratization of the Mexican government as the Partido Revolucionario Institucional (PRI) has been in power for decades.

On January 1, 1994, they made their first public declaration against the Mexican government. The EZLN called for an armed struggle against economic policies hurtful to the peasant and Indigenous communities, as peaceful protests did not achieve any change. An estimated 3,000 Zapatistas seized towns in Chiapas and had brief success until the Mexican army counterattacked. On January 12, 1994, the armed clashes stopped and the Zapatistas retreated into the surrounding jungles. To this day, the Zapatistas are still active, mostly in the southern states of Mexico.
Activity during the 2000s
In 2001, the Zapatistas created 32 “autonomous municipalities in Chiapas, Mexico, where they implemented their demands without the Mexican government’s support and with funding from international organizations.
In 2005, the Zapatistas presented the Sixth Declaration of the Lacandon Jungle where they spoke about their vision for Mexico and the world. This included support of Indigenous communities, racial minorities and peasants. It also supported the leftists government in other Latin American countries like Cuba, Bolivia and Ecuador.
In 2006, the Zapatistas began “The Other Campaign” where the EZLN visited all 31 Mexican states at the same time the 2006 presidential election was taking place. Before the campaign began, the EZLN invited national leftist organizations, Indigenous groups and non-governmental organizations to listen to the group’s claims for human rights and their goals.
In 2007, the EZLN along with other Indigenous communities in the Americas announced the Intercontinental Indigenous Encounter. The purpose of this meeting was to connect with other Indigenous communities through their shared pains and sufferings but also their differences.

Sources:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zapatista_Army_of_National_Liberation#History
https://www.britannica.com/topic/Zapatista-National-Liberation-Army
Images:
(https://www.flickr.com/photos/92258912@N00/64601617)
License: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/deed.en
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Mexico.Chis.EZLN.01.jpg
License:
https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/deed.en

Intersectionality

haysa on June 10, 2019

Intersectionality: Why Aren’t Indigenous Peoples of African Descent Discussed in Conversations Regarding Indigeneity?

When most think of indigenous people (especially those in Latin America), indigenous people who also have African heritage are not a part of the conversation. Specifically, in our class where we discussed a variety of different indigenous rights and issues, Afro-Indigeneity was not a topic we discussed until a few students voiced their thoughts on the lack of such content. And even then, the discussion was brief and only a limited amount of sources were provided as course materials (at no fault of the professor). While indigenous people in Latin America are a marginalized and oppressed group, the Afro-Latinx/Indigenous community is marginalized within the already marginalized group– much like how African American or Black people are oppressed and marginalized in the United States and queer Black people are marginalized within the Black community.
What Afro-Indigenous people are deprived of is their ability to be indigenous. As Avi Chomsky and Cindy Forster express in their 2006 article “Who Is Indigenous? Who Is Afro-Colombian? Who Decides?”, people who claim both African and indigenous heritage are not recognized as both African and indigenous because they are considered “peasants” and are “defined . . . as “a group of families of African descent that possesses its own culture, shares a history, and has its own traditions and customs . . . who demonstrate and conserve a consciousness of their identity that distinguishes them from other ethnic groups”. In other words, Afro-Colombian people are their own separate group/ethnicity and are thus excluded from indigenous communities. They must pick one identity over the other and many times that identity is chosen for them; fore, Afro-Indigenous people are not indigenous to many people because of their African heritage– they are Afro-whatever (whatever referring to the Latin American country in which African-descended people live/populate).
Afro-Indigenous peoples are excluded from indigenous conversations just as it is difficult for indigenous women to be a part of the same discussions. They have to prove themselves in ways that other indigenous people do not; and yet, Afro-Indigenous people are still not considered members of indigenous communities. They are not allowed to have more than one identity. They must be what their country and society dictate they are.
This is to say that not all Afro-Latinx American people are of indigenous descent and are shunned or excluded from the communities, but the fact remains that there is a lack of scholarship on Afro-Indigenous people and their inclusion in indigenous communities.

Works Cited

Chomsky, Avi, and Cindy Forster. “Who Is Indigenous? Who Is Afro-Colombian? Who Decides?”

Cultural Survival. December 2006. Accessed June 2019. https://www.culturalsurvival.org/publications/cultural-survival-quarterly/who-indigenous-who-afro-colombian-who-decides.

McGrath, Elena. “The Indian Question.” Indigenous Rights in Latin America, Carleton College,

Northfield, MN, April 5, 2019

Postero, Nancy Grey, and Leon Zamosc. “Introduction: Indigenous Movements and the Indian

Question in Latin America.” In The Struggle for Indigenous Rights in Latin America, 1-31. Sussex Academic Press, 2012.

The Coloniality of Gender

becerraa on June 10, 2019

In the Western world, discussions on the struggles produced by colonialism tend to be myopic. For example, the application of western feminists theories in non-western societies falls shorts of fully demonstrating the complexities of the subjugation of people based on gender within the colonial state. In general, western feminist thought lacks an understanding of how gender became a tool to oppress people. Maria Lugones writes “The Coloniality of Gender” to offer more insight on the confluence of gender and colonialism. She critiques the discussion on the coloniality of power concept by Anibal Quijano with the help of feminist theoretical frameworks by Women of Color feminists. Her essay explores her interest in the intersection of “race, class, gender, and sexuality” within the colonial power structure to highlight the shortsighted discussions of liberation and struggle by men, and in particular, men of color.
The coloniality of power describes the concept of how modernity resulted from the legacies of colonialism through the domination, exploitation, and oppression of people under the Eurocentric capitalism and from racialization in the Americas [1]. Lugones criticized this model for being too narrow because it “veil[s] the ways in which non-’white’ colonized women were subjected and disempowered. She explains that she understands how Quijano sees the subjugation of people through the “axis of the coloniality of power,” and how he sees gender within this restrictive framework. However, his shortcomings demonstrate how women of color are overlooked even in academic discussions. Lugones then lists examples of the coloniality of gender.
Lugones describes the inconsistencies within gender assignation and its relation to understanding biological sex. For example, intersex people are 1 in 4 globally, and depending on which genitalia they were born with, they would be assigned a sex identity. However, even within this assignation, Lugones explains, notions of subordination based on gender are imposed. This ties with what Oyéronké Oyewùmí explains about the implementation of gender in the colonization of the Yoruba people. With colonization, gender subordination and race inferiorization were imposed on the Yoruba thus stripping their social structures. Paula Gunn Allen also explains how many North American indigenous communities were gynocratic and their belief systems revolved around female deities, yet that changed with colonization. Subordination of women came through the “the decimation of populations through starvation, disease, and disruption of all social, spiritual, and economic structures,” Gunn Allen adds that indigenous men were complicit in the restructuring of their social order especially after many were taken to England to learn the “way of the English.” This demonstrates the extent which sex, gender, and sexuality were colonized by the Euro-centric capitalist power. Lugones then describes how the feminist movements of the twentieth century were not designed for the use of women of color. The feminism of white women, bourgeois white women, only focused on their subordination and did not so because they did not see themselves in the “intersection of race, gender and other forceful marks of subjection or domination.” Stereotypes about women and men of color emphasize the importance of seeing this because it manifested how the norm for gender expectations and relations were centered around white men and women, first the bourgeois and later middle class. Likewise, heterosexuality is a construction that arose and marked the appropriate relations between people as they aligned with the colonial/modern gender system.
These examples demonstrate how gender is also a tool for establishing domination over colonized places. Because gender is not always investigated separately, it can be missed in conversations about the struggles of decolonization. In this article, Lugones demonstrated how colonization created a new gender system, and how it affected the social structures that people and made them more susceptible to exploitation from Europeans. Within these examples, Women of Color feminists demonstrated the depth of change necessary to leave societies vulnerable to oppression and how these become overlooked.
These insights are helpful within our Latin American context because we have read on examples of how gender affects Indigenous Peoples. We read on about the Muxe of Oaxaca, and how indigenous women are seen as more indigenous than men, to list some examples. Colonization profoundly transformed people and societies. It is easy however to dismiss the impacts of it when discussions about it are dominated by men, and men of color, who do not perceive gender to be influential topics. Within our class, it was helpful to read about women’s experiences because they launched conversations on the role gender plays in history the indigenous people of Latin America.

Lugones, Maria. “The Coloniality of Gender.” Worlds & Knowledges Otherwise 2, no. 2 (2008): 1–17. https://globalstudies.trinity.duke.edu/projects/wko-gender.
[1] Quijano, Anibal, and Michael Ennis. “Coloniality of Power, Eurocentrism, and Latin America.” Nepantla: Views from South 1, no. 3 (November 1, 2000): 533–80. https://muse.jhu.edu/article/23906.

Afro-Indigenous People and Relations

bettinm on June 10, 2019

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Afro-indigenous people in Central and South American countries seem to be poorly represented; information about their presence is difficult to find. Although certain sources indicate that indigenous Latin Americans historically intermingled with Africans and people of African descent who were brought to the region as slaves, indigenous people seem to exist in their own category apart from Afro-Latin Americans. Additionally, although the terms mestizo (person of European and indigenous heritage) and mulatto (person of mixed European and African descent) are often used in scholarship and literature, there doesn’t seems to be a common or evident term for people with mixed Afro-indigenous heritage.

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[1]

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As a result, the existence people of this racial makeup is mostly disregarded or ignored. This limitation on the exploration of mixed-race people indicates the control of white people in society, as people are only relevant if they are white in some aspect. Even so, only people who are completely white are valued and treated with respect. This ignorance of the presence of black people in and related to indigenous communities is especially evident in the context of Central and South America. In general, scholarship about any type of relationships that exist between people of African descent and indigenous people explores this concept in North American tribal communities. However, this information can potentially apply to similar interactions in the context of Latin America, revealing more about race dynamics and the presence of minority groups in that region.

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In his article Dangerous Decolonizing: Indians and Blacks in the Legacy of Jim Crow, author Brian Klopotek explores the presence of blackness in Indian communities, specifically in the Choctaw tribe, as well as the general relationships between black people and Native Americans. He discusses how existing indigenous methodologies limit research in certain ways. The author mentions that U.S. indigenous studies only explore interracial relationships as they exist between Indians and whites. This indicates that U.S. society is very white dominated, because the existence of Native Americans (and other minority groups) is only discussed as it relates to white people. The same limitations seem to exist in scholarship about indigenous Latin Americans, most likely because in this context, a lot of history of indigenous people was written by Europeans. As a result, more modern research about indigenous communities and cultures, especially that created by members of these tribes, often ignore relationships they have with any other racial groups, seeking instead to share the story of indigenous people because they have been silenced for so long. Similarly, Klopotek mentions, the commonalities indigenous people share with other racial minorities are often ignored because research tries to set Indians apart from other people of color. However, as members of relatively diverse communities who experience oppression and marginalization, Native Americans and scholarship about them should explore how they fit into greater society.

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“certain Native Americans have ‘at times reproduced systems of oppression from the colonizers within [their] own communities.’”

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Unfortunately, Klopotek’s exploration of the manifestations of racial prejudice within indigenous communities demonstrates negative aspects of the relationships that exist between Native Americans and other minority groups. Because this article examines a tribe that lives in the southeastern part of the United States, aspects of the surrounding areas, specifically antiblack racism, have infiltrated this indigenous community. Interestingly, the author mentions how, when interacting with other minority groups, certain Native Americans have “at times reproduced systems of oppression from the colonizers within [their] own communities.” [2] This represents the dynamic that often occurs among minority groups in that they seek to be the least oppressed rather than work together for a common cause against the primary oppressor: white people. Additionally, the schisms that develop between different minority groups weakens them and allows white people to gain even more control, further solidifying their position as the dominant race in society.

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[1] Nicolás León, Cuadro De Castas Coloniales, 1924, Las Castas Del México Colonial o Nueva España, Museo Nacional Del Virreinato, Tepotzotlán, México.

[2] Brian Klopotek, “Dangerous Decolonizing: Indians and Blacks and the Legacy of Jim Crow,” ed. Florencia E. Mallon, in Decolonizing Native Histories: Collaboration, Knowledge, and Language in the Americas, VII (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2012), 180, accessed May 14, 2019.

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Indigenous Rights Organizations: CONAVIGUA

goitys on June 9, 2019

The National Coordination of Widows of Guatemala (la Coordinadora Nacional de Viudas de Guatemala: CONAVIGUA) has a website, which you can find here: http://conavigua.tripod.com/, as well as a Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/Conavigua-Guatemala-457506251121355/. Both pages are in Spanish. The major participants of this group are Guatemalan women whose husbands were killed in the Guatemalan Civil War. The objectives of this group include food, peace, equal education, protection for widows and mothers, protection for indigenous women, socioeconomic equality, and equal rights for indigenous communities. The group also seeks integration to la Unidad de Accion Sindical y Popular (UASP), a major union organization in Guatemala. CONAVIGUA, as well as the community the organization represents, faces some serious threats, in addition to the factors that led to the creation of the group in the first place. According to the website, members of CONAVIGUA have been threatened with violence by government soldiers for speaking out.

Summary of Now Peru Is Mine

goitys on June 9, 2019

In Now Peru Is Mine: The Life and Times of a Campesino Activist, Manuel Llamojha Mitma and Jaymie Patricia Heilman present a testimonio of Llamojha’s lifelong activism and struggles against socioeconomic and racial oppression in Peru—and across the globe, to some extent—throughout the 20th century. Now Peru Is Mine illustrates the idea that nonviolent resistance, especially activism involving the written word, can be far more effective than violent means with respect to achieving social progress.
The book begins by outlining the events of Llamojha’s early life that led him on his activist path. Although Llamojha was born to an indigenous peasant family in a community with a severely low literacy rate, his father taught him to read and write at a young age. Llamojha witnessed the abuses of the hacendados firsthand, and these injustices, in conjunction with his literacy, inspired in him a desire to lead and make a difference. He initially intended to become a priest, but was unjustly rejected as a result of his race and class. He then joined the military, planning to use his service as the jumping-off point for a revolution, but was dismissed for these very same revolutionary inclinations. Over time, Llamojha learned more about the systems of oppression operating in Peru, through books, word of mouth, and his personal observations. He became secretary general of a migrant club in his community, challenging the local authorities.
Next, Llamojha and Heilman focus on Llamojha’s activism with the Jhajhamarka hacienda. Llamojha would use his ever-present typewriter, as well as makeshift seals and other “official” devices, to compose complex legal documents. The authorities constantly harassed him, occasionally forging documents to brand him a communist. Llamojha observes that he was in jail so often that it became like home to him. He was even forced to fake his own death at one point in order to evade arrest. This constant turmoil was difficult for his family to handle at times. While Llamojha was in jail, he also continued his activism. Eventually, he was elected personero legal of Concepción, a position to which he continued to be reelected over the years.
Llamojha was later elected secretary general of the Confederación Campesina del Perú, and in the sixties he traveled to various socialist countries, including Cuba, the Soviet Union, and China. Llamojha criticized the brand of communism practiced by the USSR, favoring instead the peasant-oriented communism of Mao’s China. Upon his return, Llamojha was jailed for an entire year. Unfortunately, in the seventies, schisms developed within the CCP in response to the state-enforced agrarian reforms of the Velasco military government. Llamojha and others opposed the regime because they felt the reforms were insufficient, and disempowered the peasant class. During this period, various other disputes also arose within the left.
Next, Llamojha and Heilman recount likely the darkest period in Llamojha’s life: the loss of his son Herbert. Herbert was wrongfully arrested on suspicion of involvement in a terrorist attack perpetrated by the Shining Path. Disturbingly, he was turned in by Llamojha’s own brother, who was apparently sympathetic to the hacendado cause. The Shining Path later attacked the prison in which Herbert was being held, and he escaped, but he was never officially seen again. This tragedy profoundly devastated Llamojha and his family. In this regard, Llamojha and Heilman present a pointed critique of violent revolutionary tactics like those employed by the Shining Path and other militant organizations.
Now Peru Is Mine addresses issues that are echoed within a plethora of scholarly works, including Waskar Ari-Chachaki’s essay “Between Indian Law and Qullasuyu Nationalism: Gregorio Titiriku and the Making of AMP Indigenous Activists, 1921-1964.” Both works demonstrate the power of literacy in terms of organizing movements and effecting social progress. Like Llamojha, intellectual activist Gregorio Titiriku had a father who taught him to read and write early in his life. Like Llamojha, these abilities inspired and allowed for Titiriku’s career as an activist. Finally, for both Llamojha and Titiriku, the knowledge of and familiarity with the intricacies of their respective governing institutions provided by literacy was instrumental in their success. This connection is important because it demonstrates that the effectiveness of Llamojha’s writing-oriented, nonviolent resistance is not an isolated aberration. These forms of activism work across the globe and across historical time periods, not just in Peru and not just during the period of Llamojha’s work.
Llamojha and Heilman’s message regarding the importance of this kind of resistance can be seen in one passage in the book in particular, which depicts some highly meaningful images. In Chapter Two, “‘I Made the Hacendados Tremble’: Defending Jhajhamarka Campesinos, 1948-1952,” specifically on pages 47 through 52, Llamojha and Heilman describe how Llamojha used his typewriter and makeshift stamps to draw up documents. Llamojha recounts that he used to carry his typewriter wherever he went so that he would always be prepared to draft petitions, formal requests, memos, and the like, if the situation should present itself. He goes on to explain that he would then take these documents directly to the national government himself, bypassing the local authorities. In doing so, Llamojha was time and time again able to win important rights and protections for his people, going so far as to “make the hacendados tremble.” The image of Llamojha carrying his typewriter around wherever he would go is especially striking because it contrasts so strongly with more traditional images of revolutionaries carrying guns and other weapons. Llamojha’s example affirms the adage that the pen (or typewriter, as the case may be), is truly mightier than the sword.
Works Cited
Ari-Chachaki, Waskar. “Between Indian Law and Qullasuyu Nationalism. Gregorio Titiriku and the Making of AMP Indigenous Activists, 1921-1964.” Bolivian Studies Journal/Revista De Estudios Bolivianos, vol. 15, 2011, pp. 91–113., doi:10.5195/bsj.2010.11.
Mitma, Manuel Llamojha, and Jaymie Patricia Heilman. Now Peru Is Mine: the Life and Times of a Campesino Activist. Duke University Press, 2016.

Indigeneity and Land

hernandezo on June 9, 2019

One of the things that came to mind when reading the readings this week was what it means to be indigenous. The reason that this is something that I thought about frequently was because of what we read in Now Peru Is Mine by Manuel Mitma Llamojha and Jaymie Patricia Heilman. Llamojha explains on pages 11-12 about how he prefers to describe himself as a campesino versus calling himself Indian, Quechua, Aymara, or even indigenous. Although, the author does say, “His understanding of what it means to be a campesino is one that melds ethnic, class, and historical identities, and he is both passionate and explicit about his indigeneity.”1 It’s interesting that he chooses to use a social-economic label to describe himself. Although, it’s worth noting that he denounces the word “indian”, Llamojha says:
“Discrimination began when the Spanish took America. They categorized all the natives of the continent as ‘Indians,’ as people of another country, another world. I always felt proud when they called ‘Indian.’ When Christopher Columbus came to America, he thought that all the inhabitants of America from India. So I was proud when they said ‘Indian’ to me, because that meant I was from India.”2
This reminded me of conversations with my father who spoke to me of the remnants of indigenous lifestyle in his home pueblo of Pomoca, Michoacán. While he also shared the same sentiments about the use of the word “indio” or “indian” to describe himself as someone who comes from indigenous descent, he preferred to call himself a “campesino”, but used the two terms fairly interchangeably. His rationale for this was that as a Mexican with indigenous roots, he also resonated with the idea that being called “indian” further carried on a legacy of colonialism. While my father never explicitly said this, he felt it was wrong to call his fellow indigenous Mexican people with the incorrect name because they indeed weren’t from India, and therein lies a form of belittling and taking away from the strength and pride there is in indigeneity, and having colonizers rename and stick a name onto a people.
On a different note, the reason he strongly resonated with the word campesino was the fact that he felt that as a farmer, he saw the agricultural component, the physical labor that came with the lifestyle, and the spiritual connection to the land, as a means to fulfill the needs of his people were far more important than what demarcated him as indigenous, or “indio”, in geographic and racial terms. Just because he was darker skinned than other people in his pueblo and just because he didn’t live in the urbanized parts of Michoacan wasn’t what deemed him indigenous or being of indigenous descent. I think this proves to be a very valuable insight as to what it means to be indigenous. There’s merit in the work of cultivating land and creating a lifestyle and whole community based around that labor. It weaves together societies, fortifies relationships, gives these communities capital and a means of creating and contributing to national commerce. While most of the customs, language, and religions of that my dad said were forgotten and lost over the years, the land they owned and cultivated over generations were their claim to a past that is out of reach.
I think the thoughts that my dad had about indigeneity also find themselves expressed in the thoughts that Llamojha’s words and beliefs as well. As a result of his upbringing on an hacienda and being of indigenous descent, he also lived a life of extraneous labor and knew that the land was an integral part of indigenous people’s lives and identities. A lot of the denunciations he made were always tied to land. Whether it was unfair treatment and unjust labor conditions/hours for campesinos or the acquisition and claiming of lands that belonged to campesinos; all these are rooted in the lands that were owned by the people.
Hence, why the preservation of land, and moreover, the owning of these lands by the people that have been there for centuries, is arguably the most important component to indigenous rights. While my father himself didn’t unfairly lose lands at any point, he often points to the injustices American settlers imposed upon the Mexican people through the taking of lands above the current U.S border. So, he used that often times to describe a more universal struggle of the indigenous people we have been reading about that often had their lands unjustly taken, by coercion or by force. It brings us time and time again to the discourse over land and the claims that indigenous people have to them outside of the jurisdiction of the law that is often created thereafter only to tear indigenous people from the lands.
Works Cited
1. Mitma, Manuel Llamojha, and Jaymie Patricia Heilman. Now Peru Is Mine: The Life and times of a Campesino Activist. Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2016. 11-12.
2. Mitma, Manuel Llamojha, and Jaymie Patricia Heilman. Now Peru Is Mine: The Life and times of a Campesino Activist. Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2016. 11-12.

Oswaldo Guayasamín

brimn on June 9, 2019

Oswaldo Guayasamín (1919-1999) was an influential Quechua painter from Ecuador. Guayasamín used art to communicate the violence, oppression, and poverty of which he was witness. Guayasamín often depicts human figures. His work probably gained such a wide scope of recognition because it feels both highly personal and universal. It communicates universal human emotions of pain, grief, anger, and love — but also the unique conditions and experiences of indigenous Ecuadorians. His style is identified as a part of the Expressionist and Cubist movements.
Guayasamín was born in 1919 in Quito, Ecuador. His father was Quechua and his mother was Mestiza. He was the eldest of ten children. Guayasamín was interested in painting from a young age. He started to watercolor when he was 6 and shifting to oil when he was 10. “As he had already been expelled from six different schools for what his teachers considered a lack of academic talent, he enrolled in the School of Fine Arts [in 1932, at age 13] against his father’s wishes.”
His early was characterized by these artistic developments, and at the same time, it was marked by personal loss and political violence. Guayasamín’s mother died a premature death during his childhood years. Later, in 1932 (the same year he started art school) an armed conflict exploded between then president Neptalí Bonifaz Ascázubi’s far-right base and leftist paramilitary groups who sought to overthrow him. This coup sparked a four-day period of intense violence. During this time, Guayasamín witnessed a stray bullet hit and kill one of his best friends. This event would inspire the painting below, Los niños muertos (The dead children).

This painting was featured in Guayasamín’s “first exhibition in 1942 [which] stirred considerable controversy in the artistic community, as the majority of his works contained critical social and political undertones.”
Having graduated from The School of Fine Arts in 1940, Guayasamín’s career was already in full speed ahead. Soon after graduating, “Nelson Rockefeller visited Quito and was so impressed with Guayasamín’s art that he extended him an invitation to visit the United States, where the artist spent seven months visiting museums.” Soon thereafter, in 1943, Guayasamín traveled to Mexico where he met Diego Rivera and studied under José Clemente Orozco. As we can see, from the beginning of his artistic career, Guayasamín was recognized internationally for his talent, and through his travels gained a broadend international perspective. On his way back from Mexico to Ecuador, Guayasamín traveled through Peru, Bolivia, Chile, Argentina, Uruguay, and Brazil. The injustices that he witnessed during this tour inspired the first peiod of his artistic career, called Huacayñán (A Quechua word that roughly translates to “the trail of tears). It spanned from 1946 to 1953. The two paintings below were produced during this period of his artistic production, during which he created one mural and 103 pictures. He “depict[s] the misery and injustices suffered by racial and ethnic groups, particularly indigenous people, in Latin America. The works portray the cultures, feelings, traditions, identities and religions of these people and attempt to give them a voice.” The figure of Prisonero (1949) is fairly typical of the bodies that Oswaldo renders: thin, showing signs of poverty, with both the face and hands showing the anguish of the figure.

The next period of his artistic production is referred to as La edad de la ira, or The Age of Rage, which spanned roughly from 1953-1993.
The art that Guayasamín created during this middle period of his career was extremely politically and emotionally potent. He expressed his outrage and grief at many of the horrors of the 20th-century, such as the series of dictatorships that sprung forth in Latin America, the disappearings, the continued repression of indigenous peoples, the Vietnam War, and more.

Lágrimas de sangre (Tears of blood), 1973

For example, the image to the left, one of Guayasamín’s most famous, was painted in 1973 in direct response to the assassination of Salvador Allende in Chile. Guayasamín admired Allende greatly and dedicated this painting to Allende, and to “the theater director and musician Víctor Jara as well as Guayasamín’s close friend, the poet and diplomat Pablo Neruda.”
Guayasamín not only dedicated some of his paintings to specific political events and figures, but he also tried his hand at portraits. In 1996, he painted a portrait of Rigoberta Menchú, the famous K’iche’ activist from Guatemala.

Photo courtosy of Fundación Guayasamín, 1996.

The later period of Guayasamín’s career is called Ternura (Tenderness). Between the years of 1988 until 1999 when Guayasamín passed, he created about 100 paintings all belonging to this collection. These paintings were all dedicated to his deceased mother. Most of them depict a mother and child embracing. During these later years, Guayasamín shifted his focus, creating these more personal paintings. Like the paintings from earlier in his career, these paintings are centered around people and have his recognizable emotional potency. However, the emotions that Guayasamín conveys shift from angry outrage to a loving melancholy.

All paintings by Oswaldo Guayasamín, courtesy of Fundación Guayasamín.
Sources:
https://www.dailyartmagazine.com/oswaldo-guayasamin-art/
https://as.vanderbilt.edu/clas-resources/media/Guayasamin.pdf
http://www.artnet.com/artists/oswaldo-guayasam%C3%ADn/
https://www.dailyartmagazine.com/oswaldo-guayasamin-art/
https://www.wikiart.org/en/oswaldo-guayasamin
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ecuadorian_Civil_War
https://www.capilladelhombre.com