The Pervasive Nature of Machismo and the Furious Power Against It
I would be the first to tell you that sexism exists globally. It, like capitalism, thrusts itself in every aspect of our lives, forcing itself on everyone around the world. However, living in a different place, culture, country, and context allows you to see sexism that exists there more clearly—and therefore get more frustrated—because you are not accustomed to it as you are the sexism that exists back home. I have experienced my fair share of sexism back home from dress codes, double standards when it comes to, well, everything, to being scared of men while walking alone by myself in the evening. You know, the stuff that women have to deal with on the daily.
In Tocagón/San Rafael, I have been sexually assaulted and had to deal with, “Tu tienes un novio?” pretty much every time I meet a man. However, nothing is more frustrating for me than dealing with sexism at home. Living in a household in which the only male is my 12-year old brother affords me with the privilege of not dealing with (much) sexism at home. The same was true in my Quito host family, in which the only male in the household was my 22-year host brother, who my host mother and sister kept in check all the time, so he knew what was up (Love you, JoséCarlo!). I am accustomed to everyone in the household contributing to household chores. I am expected to but so is my brother.
That’s not true in my current host family in Tocagón. Not only do I live with a host father but there are men around all the time because my family employs people who are helping them construct another house. In the beginning I was having meals with dozens of men, nowadays its at least three. This opens a lot of room for sexism. The oldest man always sits at the head of the table. It is very common for men to expect to be served meals by women while the women are eating or otherwise preoccupied even though they are perfectly capable of serving themselves. My host mother could have just finished serving everyone and not within 5-10 minutes of her finally sitting down and eating her meal a man extends his empty bowl towards her asking for more. My mother then has to stop her meal and refill this man’s bowl—and do it repeatedly throughout the meal for the different men eating with us.
One evening, I walked into the kitchen hoping for dinner. There wasn’t any food so I asked my mom, “Necesite ayuda para cocinar la cena?” As I was helping my host mother cook dinner, a stream of at least 5-6 men came in. My mom said, “La comida está cocinando.” One of the men responded, “Ah, no hay?” and proceeded to find himself a seat. The men resumed their conversations. I kind of rolled my eyes then because it was frustrating for me to see me, my host mom, and host cousin cooking dinner, the men knowing dinner isn’t ready, and yet not thinking they ought to offer their help so that dinner would be ready as fast as possible.
As I was cutting onions, one of the men demonstrated in Spanish and with his hands how he thought the onions should be properly cut. I looked up and responded, “Tu quieres hacer?” Do you want to do it? He just laughed. Not only did he not offer to help make dinner but he obnoxiously demonstrated to me how I should be cutting the onions.
Here, it is acceptable for indigenous men to wear Western clothes, but indigenous women usually have to wear the traditional indigenous long skirt and flats, that seem difficult to do laborious tasks in like farming or commuting on foot on rocky, uneven, sharp streets. However, they do it anyway with that wear.
I went to a wedding ceremony earlier in October and was able to witness the way in which drinks are served. There is one cup from which everyone drinks out of and a person who carries a carton of the drinks, pours it into the cup, and stops in front of everyone and offers the drink. The person who is offered the drink either refuses it or takes it and drinks the entire thing or throws out the leftover on the floor and returns the cup to the person. That was how I was served my soda with my meal. However, later in the evening, when alcohol was being served, none of the women were offered alcohol.
Unlike back home though, I remember actually feeling safer when a man was walking behind me one night because that meant that if I got attacked by a dog, I’d have someone who had my back.
While I critique the sexism that exists in my host family, I am reminded by how my mother back home always yells at me or gets upset whenever I wear something a little shorter than she likes. I am reminded of how I have to adjust my clothing so it is, by my mother’s definition, modest or not come out of my room whenever there is a male visitor. Men are not allowed to know when I have my period so god forbid my thrown out pad is visible in the trash can. I am able to, however, actively, openly, and clearly critique these things directly to my mom because we understand each other linguistically and I don’t really give a fuck about abiding by cultural norms in my own household. I do not have that freedom here though. Whenever I get catcalled in New York City, I do not hesitate to turn around, stick up my middle finger, and say a loud, “Fuck you!” all while keeping direct eye contact with the perpetrator. I would be out of my mind if I did that here though.
Thus, it’s frustrating interacting with sexism here, as I have in New York, but not similarly being able to actively speak out and fight against it as I would have been able to back home. I realize so much of my experience is informed by me growing up in a big city that I am as familiar with as the back of my hand but now living in a small agricultural rural community in which I do not know the language or context as well.
Here, I find myself being more frustrated with the sexism I face but I also remember, when I was in Quito, being struck by the power of the indigenous women that are currently leading the movement against extractivism, an economic model that massively extracts natural resources for the purposes of exporting raw goods, by Latin American governments. They organized a protest in resistance of Habitat 3, the UN conference on urban sustainability and development that convenes every 20 years. Quito was chosen to be the city that hosted the conference from October 17-20. They plastered large billboards with the words “Inclusive Cities” inscribed, but a lot of Habitat 3, and moreover the Urban Agenda—the non-legally binding commitment made by cities globally—was anything but. A number of talks and exhibitions were only available in English, making it inaccessible to the majority of Ecuadorians who have not had the same access to English as those who are in power. The park was fenced up and beefed with security, with special entrances and exits that often could only be found with thousands of people lined up waiting for entry. Sustainability was an obvious theme of the conference and the Urban Agenda, but issues of extractivism and how that substantially affects forced displacement of communities, particularly indigenous communities, to cities was not acknowledged, much less addressed. How can you talk about sustainability and inclusivity without addressing why massive amounts of people are being forced to move into cities—while in the very city that that is particularly rampant?
Currently, indigenous communities across South America are fighting against extractivism but they are often silenced because the media doesn’t cover them, making them vulnerable and too often victims of being falsely charged and imprisoned by their governments as terrorists because they are working with international organizations to fight against government policies that environmentally damage communities. In response, the indigenous women leading the fight against extractivism decided to have a large-scale mural painted of the different women across Ecuador who are defending life with the extractivist projects undertaken by the government, demonstrating how destructive it is to the environment—right in the center of Quito, just a few blocks away from where Habitat 3 was taking place. They additionally organized a protest in resistance to Habitat 3 that ended at the mural—making the movement to save life in Latin America visible to people from around the world.
The protest was one of the most dynamic, fruitful, and powerful protests I have ever been to. The majority of demonstrators had drums hung around their necks and an unrelenting, vigorous beat that lasted throughout the 5 hours duration of the protest, adjusting to the moods of the protestors as they were dealing with their demands for the sovereignty of the environment and the defense of life were being deliberately ignored by their own governments and the violence and brutality of the police against peaceful environment protectors.
Moreover, I was in awe due to being able to see the vigilance and militancy of the women leading this fight. They were fearless in their conviction of the capitalist and patriarchal governments that only survive by sucking the life out of everything and firm in their commitment to defend and protect.
The movement here is not so different from the movement I am familiar with back home in that they are both led by impacted women. However, there is something distinct and powerful in the way the movement here organizes—simply from the structure of their protest to the visibility and coordination of indigenous communities to the way they indict patriarchal capitalist governments in their fight for environmental justice. There was no question of the parallel nature in the ways in which men are able to violate women and other oppressed genders under the patriarchy and the ways in which President Correa and other governments are able to do the same to Mother Nature under capitalism. The two are tied, and both need to be destroyed for true liberation.
This protest was taking place while #noDAPL protestors were (and still are) similarly defending life in North Dakota and are similarly being violently and gruesomely targeted by the government there. The exploitation of the environment and the oppression of indigenous communities is global, but more importantly, so is the resistance against it and the women that are on the front lines of it.