Saturday, October 21, 2017

Women in the Mexican Revolution

So now that you know something about the Mexican Revolution, let’s talk about the women.
When I ask my world history students to discuss gender roles in any given time/place, they usually start by saying that women “didn’t work” but “stayed at home.” It is a statement that is usually in the right ballpark, but isn’t quite accurate. A more accurate statement for most times and places since the emergence of civilizations would be: Women were expected to not to work outside of the home, but for most families, this ideal was out of reach. This statement acknowledges that even when women have “stayed at home” most were still working, even if it was not wage labor. It also shows that a separate domestic sphere was an expectation, and an ideal of patriarchal societies that was seldom lived up to, simply because it is not a practical economic arrangement for most families and never has been.
The statement is certainly true of 19th century Mexico. Dominated by the Catholic Church from the 16th century Spanish conquest, Mexican society was a dyed-in-the-wool patriarchy – and yet, when the revolution started in 1910, women accounted for more than half of the industrial Mexican work force. Similar to the United States, female factory workers received lower wages than men – making them more cost effective for factory owners. Manufacturing jobs tended to be gender segregated, with most female factory workers working in the tobacco and textile industries. A third of the female workforce was employed in domestic service. Women also participated in agricultural labor, but in smaller numbers. Historians debate the exact figure, but one historian claims that in Oaxaca in 1907 women – being “cheaper than machines” – constituted as much as 15 percent of the agricultural work force.
Middle class women had also begun to enter the workforce by the end of the Porfiriato, mostly taking jobs as teachers and government workers, but with some women also becoming doctors, dentists, and lawyers.
Women always have a stake in the revolutions, wars, and civil wars that ensnare their homelands. Before the outbreak of the Mexican Revolution, women workers and intellectuals were already organizing to protest working conditions and the presidency of Porfirio Díaz, among other grievances. Throughout the course of the revolution, women who remained in the factories periodically went on strike.
Women also participated actively on the battlefield and in the militaries of the revolution – a role for which they are more well known. Women supported and fought for all sides of the revolution, including support for the existing government (Federales). Each camp differed in its approach to women’s support and participation. Women who played a material role in the revolution are collectively called Soldaderas. Derived from the Spanish word for daily wages, many of these women were camp followers. Women have historically played an important role as support service for the military. Women – frequently wives or other relatives of male soldiers – would “follow” the soldiers as they moved from one encampment to the next, sometimes bringing their children with them. Their roles included cooking, maintaining camp, sex work, nursing, and smuggling or spying. Many of the militaries of Europe and the U.S. halted these practices in the late 19th century and reassigned many of the camp follower roles to rank and file military men. Even after the military officially took control of these roles, women continued to serve in some of these capacities– i.e. serving in WWI as nurses and ambulance drivers.
Camp followers were never far away from the battlefield, and, as happened in the American Revolution and the American Civil War, camp followers sometimes became female soldiers: sometimes temporarily, and openly female, and sometimes long-term in male guise. Compared to other camp followers in history, soldaderas were more frequently, and more openly, fighting as female soldiers. Notably, the Mexican Revolution also provided opportunities for some transgender expression. Famously Amelio Robles Avila, born female, was able to express his male identity as a soldier in the Revolution, and was even able to get his birth certificate changed by the Mexican government and maintain male identity after the war was over. (On a side note, we are accustomed to talking about women disguising as men to be in the military, and I wonder how many were women who wanted to be in the military, versus how many were transgender. I think it would be a challenging but interesting research project!)
Amelio Robles Avila, formally Amelia.

Photography played a notable role in our perceptions of women in the revolution. The prevalent photos of female soldiers in bandoliers were still the exception rather than the rule, with most female participants maintaining the traditional roles of camp followers. It is also true, as in most 20th century wars, that the lines were more frequently blurred between civilian and combatant, meaning that women who did not intentionally fight on a regular basis, might still become combatants from time to time, especially if they or their families were under attack. Depending on who is counting, between 1 and 2 million Mexicans died as a result of the revolution between 1910-1920, including hundreds of thousands of women. Causes of death not only included battlefield violence, but also violence against civilians, and the starvation and disease that usually accompany war.
Female soldiers were a minority: most women participated in the revolution in other ways, such as camp following or political activism. Not only were the ranks of female soldiers small to begin with, but they had mostly disappeared by 1915. As armies ran out of supplies, and moved towards a guerrilla model (requiring small, extremely mobile units) they not only dumped their female soldiers, but sometimes even the soldaderas (camp followers) as well.
Despite their participation in the revolution, women largely saw a decline in status afterwards. Recall that in 1910, when the revolution started, women accounted for more than half of Mexico’s industrial workforce. By 1940, they were only thirteen percent of the industrial workforce. In almost every Mexican state, the percentage of women in the workforce declined from 1900 to 1940. (This example is evidence that the status of women is not on a constant trajectory of improvement, but remains vulnerable to backsliding – something many American women are now becoming acutely aware of.)  Like the United States’ own current labor crisis, this was largely because the mechanization of factory work meant a decreased need for factory workers. Those factory jobs that remained were offered to male workers and female workers were pushed increasingly into the service sector. As with before the revolution, most working women worked in domestic service. Other new service careers opened to women, such as telephone operators, and in urban areas, many women worked as street vendors, mainly selling food.
For educated and middle class women, the post-revolutionary period of the 1920s and 30s offered greater job opportunities as teachers and government workers, with well over a third of government workers in Mexico City being female in 1938.
In addition to these mixed economic results, women also received mixed political gains from the revolution. The constitution of 1917 made the protection of working women and their children the law of the land, by protecting a woman’s right to paid maternity leave, a guarantee of keeping her job, and accommodations for nursing/lactation upon return to work. Unfortunately, this law was not enforced very well during the 1920s. Minimum wage laws did not protect women, and it remained acceptable to pay women less than men under the assumption that women’s wages were only to support themselves and not a family, despite the fact that many women were heads of households. The new laws were written with many of the same expectations of the pre-revolutionary patriarchy: mainly, that women should be married, and that women should not seek employment without their husbands’ permission. Additionally, despite calling for suffrage during the revolution itself, as well as throughout the 1920s and 30s, Mexican women did not receive full suffrage until 1953. Prior to that, women’s voting rights were determined at the state level. When women could vote, it was only in local elections or elections within political parties.
The recasting of the soldadera and female soldier in the popular imagination also undermined many of the gains that women had fought for during the revolution. Post revolution, depictions of female soldiers and soldaderas tended to emphasize their loyalty towards men, such as by explaining their involvement as being motivated by loyalty to their husbands or lovers, rather than any kind of political goal. Corridos – love ballads – artwork, and film, also tended to sexualize the soldaderas, emphasizing beauty over bravery and turning them into femme fatale: characters who are dangerous for their rejection of normative female behavior and expectations and are only redeemed when they agree to become subordinate to men.
Historian Anna Macias best summarizes the importance of this topic, so, I will leave you with the words she used to close her own article:
“Women, then, played a very important and varied role in the Mexican Revolution, on the front, behind the lines, in favor of or against one of the most significant social revolutions of the twentieth century. Yet, except for occasional references to soldaderas, most historians of that epic struggle have ignored the active role of Mexican women in the Revolution as precursors, journalists, propagandists, political activists, and soldiers. Only artists and novelists have given serious attention to the way the Revolution victimized millions of women and, outside of religious publications, there has been a vast silence concerning the active role of women in opposing the Mexican Revolution in its anti-clerical aspects. In addition, to date very few historians have noticed that the Revolution acted as a catalyst for the acceleration of the women’s movement in Mexico during and immediately after the struggle. By ignoring the active participation of millions of women in the Mexican Revolution, historians have helped to perpetuate the myth of Mexican women as weak, inert, passive, and dependent human beings. The contrary is true, and in the course of the Mexican Revolution women, individually and in groups, demonstrated great courage, deep conviction, enormous resourcefulness, and a willingness to be actively involved in a cause in which they fervently believed.”

Sources:
Born in Blood and Fire by John Charles Chasteen
History Channel
The Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo (Yale, the Avalon Project)
Oxford Research Encyclopedias: Latin American History. Working Women in the Mexican Revolution, by Susie S. Porter
McNair Scholars Journal, Grand Valley State University, From Soldadera to Adelita: The Depiction of Women in the Mexican Revolution,” by Delia Fernández, 2009.
Macias, Anna. Women and the Mexican Revolution, 1910-1920. The Americas, Vol. 37, No. 1 (Jul., 1980), pp. 53-82. Cambridge University Press Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/981040
Reséndez Fuentes, Andrés. Battleground Women: Soldaderas and Female Soldiers in the Mexican Revolution. The Americas, Vol. 51, No. 4 (Apr., 1995), pp. 525-553. Cambridge University Press. Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1007679

Saturday, October 7, 2017

Women in the Mexican Revolution: The Prequel

Ongoing debates in the United States over the role of women, homosexuals, and transgender people in the military overlook – among other things – an important historical fact: women and LGBTQ people have historically always played a role in the world’s militaries, whether invited or not. The posts over the next several weeks will highlight the roles of women and LGBTQ people in conflicts that ended one hundred years ago.
A century ago, the world was in chaos. World War I raged on around the globe and the U.S. had thrown its hat into the ring. Russia had left the war due to revolution and civil war. In Mexico, a bloody, decade-long revolution was violently meandering towards its conclusion. In all of these conflicts, women were on the frontlines, whether they wanted to be or not. 

"La Adelita," a character from a folk song about the revolution, is a sexualized, fantasy version of women in the Mexican Revolution.

A more realistic depiction of a "Soldadera." Soldaderas could be either camp followers or active soldiers.
As revolutions and civil wars go, the Mexican Revolution (approximately 1910-1920) is complicated and difficult to summarize. But here’s the skinny.
The first Mexican Revolution was a ten-year war for independence from Spain that began in 1810, catalyzed by Napoleon’s invasion of Spain. After successfully snipping the umbilical cord with the Mother Country in 1821, there continued to be conflicts over governing the newly independent country. In 1836, a group of American immigrants to the Mexican province of Texas declared themselves an independent republic and were swiftly annexed by the United States. From 1846-1848, the United States and Mexico fought a war (against the protestations of Henry David Thoreau) and the U.S. came away with California, New Mexico, Utah, Nevada, Arizona and some 75,000 Mexican citizens who were given 12 months to move and retain Mexican citizenship or stay and become American citizens. (As it turns out, staying was not a good choice for Mexican citizens of indigenous heritage.) After that, Mexico had another civil war called “The War of Reform,” and the resulting progressive government led by Benito Juarez was out of money. Then, while the U.S. was distracted by its own civil war, Napoleon III of France decided to make a grab for Mexico by declaring the Austrian Maximillian Hapsburg and his Belgian wife, Carlotta, as Emperor and Empress of Mexico. (Don’t worry: no matter how much you study that arrangement, it still makes no sense.) Contrary to popular belief in the U.S., Cinco de Mayo is not Mexican Independence Day. Rather, it celebrates Mexican victory over the French in the Battle of Puebla shortly before the French successfully occupied the country. 
After the Mexicans kicked the French out in 1867, Benito Juarez was re-instated as president. However, in 1871, General Porfirio Díaz led an uprising against Juarez and eventually Porfirio Díaz became president of Mexico in 1877 and remained president until 1910, ushering in a period of authoritarian rule, but also, stability. This period is also known as the Porfiriato. 
Phew. And we haven’t even gotten to the 1910-1920 Mexican Revolution yet. Buckle up.
During the Porfiriato, the Mexican export economy boomed. The totally value of Mexican trade, with exports including silver, sugar, coffee and fibers (cotton and henequen), grew by 900 percent. This period brought economic prosperity to the growing middle class who numbered approximately a million by 1900, while 8 million poor rural workers (who were mostly indigenous or mestizo) did most of the work and in increasingly bad conditions. As was common around the world in the industrial era, farmland was bought up by wealthy landowners to create large cash crop plantations and build railroads. As a result, subsistence farming was no longer an available activity for most of the rural poor, who now had to engage in often exploitative wage labor on the plantations. When the revolution began in 1910, the economy of Mexico was still mostly rural, however, only 3% of the population owned land and a quarter of Mexican land (usually parts including oil and mineral wealth) were foreign owned.
Porfirio Díaz maintained a façade of democracy: there were regular elections, but thanks to patronage, poll taxes, literacy requirements, and intimidation, only Díaz-approved candidates ever won. Díaz used trade revenues coming into Mexico to create a large bureaucracy, with plenty of white-collar jobs to keep the expanding middle class happy. He subsidized the press as well, but imprisoned the journalists who spoke out against him. Mounted police called Rurales patrolled the countryside to keep it “safe” for foreign investors, mostly from the United States. 
As with many revolutions, the Mexican Revolution was a confluence of the needs of the rural poor and the desires of the middle class for greater political power. As the Porfriato entered its third decade, Francisco Madero, the son of a plantation owner, challenged the power of the octogenarian dictator. Initially, Madero’s demands were not particularly radical: he only wanted Díaz to share his power among the Mexican elite. After Díaz refused and had Madero jailed, Madero radicalized, calling for land to be returned to the peasants, thus broadening his appeal, but also making him an enemy of the rich and powerful – and the United States. Madero’s imprisonment and calls for change inspired local revolutionary leaders – such as the iconic Emiliano Zapata – to rebel.
Díaz fled the country in 1911 to live out the rest of his days in Paris. 
Díaz’s power vacuum left behind no clear ruler, and the “revolution” – like most revolutions – was fought by rebel groups with different goals who could momentarily agree on not liking the current regime. With Díaz gone, the differences among the rebel groups came home to roost. Francisco Madero ruled from 1911 until his assassination in 1913 (with tacit approval from the United States’ very flip-floppy Mexico policy) and 100 years after its initial war of independence, Mexico was once more embroiled in a chaotic and violent civil war.
But, what about the women? 
Based on my assumption that the average reader is not overly familiar with the Mexican Revolution, I thought it was important to lay out some context before I could talk about women’s experiences of the revolution in any meaningful way. However, even the “skinny” version of the revolution is messy and bloated. So, take some time to digest and stay tuned for the next installment when there will for real-sies be some babes. 

Sources:
Born in Blood and Fire by John Charles Chasteen
History Channel
The Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo (Yale, the Avalon Project)