Tonight, the annual celebrations begin for Mexico’s Independence Day, September 16th. President Calderón will symbolically reenact Father Hidalgo’s “Grito de Dolores” by ringing the original bell, now hanging above the Palacio Nacional, and shouting “Viva México” while half a million on-lookers celebrate in the Zócalo. I hope they don’t get caught in the rain. Tomorrow is a fiesta patria and in the morning there will be a military parade down Reforma. (Shame on you if you thought Cinco de Mayo was Mexico’s Independence Day. It commemorates Mexico’s victory over the French at the Battle of Puebla and isn’t a huge holiday in other parts of Mexico.) Here at Macha Mexico, we thought we’d celebrate Mexico’s Independence from Spain by acknowledging some of the women who contributed to the struggle for independence.
Gertrudis Bocanegra as portrayed by Ofelia Medina
Gertrudis Bocanegra, known as “La Heroína de Pátzcuaro” was a criollo woman born to wealthy peninsulares (Spanish born parents) in Michoacan in 1765. Although her husband was originally a soldier in the Spanish army, when the War of Independence began they both joined the fight against Spain. She worked as a messenger, aiding communication between different fronts, but was finally captured in her hometown of Pátzcuaro. The myths around her execution include the claim that although she was tortured, she never gave up the names of her fellow rebels, and that she continued ranting against her executioners until she was shot by a firing squad. In the 1992 Spanish-language bio-pic Gertrudis, she was portrayed by Ofelia Medina, who also co-wrote the screenplay. A library named for her stands in Pátzcuaro, and contains a mural by Juan O’Gorman depicting Mexican history from the pre-Hispanic era to the Mexican Revolution.
Maria Josefa Ortiz de Dominguez
Maria Josefa Ortiz de Dominguez, known as “La Corregidora” (the corrector), was a wealthy criollo woman born in 1768. Although her parents died when she was still a baby, she was raised by her older sister, and educated at the then-prestigious Colegio de las Vizcaínas. As an adult, she hosted secret literary salons to read and discuss works of Enlightenment philosophy banned by the Catholic Church. Although her husband had been appointed a corregidor (magistrate) in Querétero, Josefa Ortiz maintained close ties with rebel organizers. The rebellion wasn’t scheduled to begin until December, but Spanish Royal troops began searching Querétero in September, where Miguel Hidalgo was hiding. Already suspected to have sympathies with the rebels, Josefa was ordered locked in her bedroom during the search, but she managed to get a message out to the mayor of the town. A rebel supporter, he informed Hidalgo of the search, effectively moving up the start of the revolution by three months. As punishment, Josefa was incarcerated in a convent until the end of the war. After independence, when Agustín de Iturbide became the emperor of Mexico, Josefa was offered the position of lady-in-waiting to the empress. A total badass who supported a Mexican republic instead of an empire, she rejected the position, as well as the imperial title “woman of honor.” A sculpture of Josefa Ortiz de Dominguez stands in the Plaza de Santo Domingo in the Centro Historico.
Leona Vicario
Leona Vicario was born to a rich criollo family in Mexico City in 1789, but was placed in the charge of her uncle after her parents died when she was a teenager. After he forbade her to marry insurgent Andrés Quintana Roo because of political differences, she fled to Tacuba, then a small down outside of the city, where she founded a group of women supporters of the independence movement. Later, she used her fortune to help fund the rebellion, and transmitted information to the rebels, acting as a spy through her connections in Mexico City, and co-founding a secret organization known as the Guadalupes. She was imprisoned in a convent for her involvement in the War of Independence until she was able to escape to Michoacán, where she was finally able to marry her husband. Her remains are easy to visit where they are interred within the column of the Ángel de la Independencia.
These are only three of the countless women who were no doubt involved in the struggles for Mexican indepedence, most of whom will never be recognized for their contributions. Of course, it’s no coincidence that the three most well-known women were wealthy and of Spanish (not mestizo or indigenous) ancestry. Additionally, it’s worth noting that although Mexico’s independence from Spain granted rights to criollos and some mestizo Mexicans, for poor and indigenous Mexicans, many of whom were still enslaved through indentured labor, things didn’t get too much brighter when “New Spain” became Mexico. In that spirit, I’ll be spending this Dia de la Independencia thinking about contemporary justice movements and whose voices continue to be erased.