It should come as no surprise that this blog was neglected, just like every other blog or journal I've ever tried to maintain. Really, at the end of the day, sometimes you just don't want to talk about it. But here we are, nearing the end of the Chiapas Practicum, and I feel like I need to leave some footprint here about the past month.
So, I'll start with work. I'm assisting with several cases right now, but the central case is one I've been working on all summer. It is a petition for a review of a homicide case. An indigenous woman was accused and convicted of murdering her husband, but she did not receive any semblance of a fair trial. Apart from this, the center has taken on cases involving pension/alimony (see photo to the left: me and Luisa, the daughter of a women whose pension case the center is carrying, at the site of the land given to the woman to build a house), custody, orders of protection, and other defense work. The judicial system here is drastically different than that of the US. I've been to municipal and traditional courts for various hearings and steps in the trial process. One of the main differences is that in Mexico, the trial is written, not oral, and usually takes place in an office with the parties all present typing away the relevant document. (For example, preliminary statements to the authorities, which have the weight of depositions, are taken at the municipal court in one of several offices with old computers. The statement is typed up as the person gives it, and then it is printed and copies are sometimes made. And, if you'll let me stretch this side note a bit farther, let's talk about the printers. They are as loud as the very first printer I ever remember seeing, and you put one legal-sized page in at a time, and then you must turn it over and put it back through to print on the other side. And so very long files, which are common, take a long time to print. I think Mexico's judicial system would double its efficiency if they used printers that printed more than one page at a time, and printed the pages faster than their current speeds, which is near the equivalent of handwriting.)
In addition to casework, the center does workshops and popular education in the surrounding indigenous communities. I've gone to quite a few of these, and it's both exciting and frustrating at the same time. What a humbling experience to be allowed and accepted into these communities and to be able to watch women and girls as they work through some of the problems facing their community. But, it's difficult, too; sometimes there isn't a lot of participation, sometimes the fear is too thick, sometimes the division to sharp, and the women do not open up. The oppression is on their faces. There are consequences to what they share. They often do not trust each other. And it's depressing, too; sometimes the women are discouraged when they learn about their rights, because all it does is show them how they don't have those rights. Some women choose not to know. And I can't exactly blame them for that. But, it's uplifting, too; I've seen some breakthroughs through art, and through dynamic games (which are an unbelieveably effective tool!), and I've seen trust form in a couple of communities. Overall, this work has led me to rededicate myself to human rights work. It's really easy, being in Chicago, watching classmates vie for lucrative positions, to strive for the same thing. But I know that salary is only relevant with regard to my ability to pay back my debt. And I've heard things like, "just give it a few years, you will see how people in this field really are," "or, your passion for it will die out once you get into the 'real world.'" And I think there's legitimacy to those statements. We all bring baggage into human rights work. We are all drawn here for different reasons, and some of them are really fucked up reasons. And we all have shortcomings, we can all be petty, we simply don't have the shoulders for bearing the weight of our work 24/7. And as for the passion, well, I think when we face stress in life we try to give ourselves a break, we look for shortcuts, and we slack in some way. Human rights workers are humans. And I know that sometimes we get in the way of work. But I feel dedicated and re-energized.
Well, for the sake of getting something done this morning, I'll end this post with a To Be Continued. And I'll leave you with one of my favorite pictures from this whole trip. It's of the girls from El Puerto, and the girl in the back is holding a copy of an international convention on the rights of young people. The two girls in fron thave their lips pierced. The one girl who is hiding did not make eye contact with anyone the entire day.
