Originally published in Mexico as Las Soldaderas, a coedition of Ediciones ERA and Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia, copyright © 1999.
Las Soldaderas: Women of the Mexican Revolution. Copyright © 2006 by Ediciones ERA.
Translation copyright 2006 © by Cinco Puntos Press.
Thanks to Luis Umberto Crosthwaite for text edit.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written consent from the publisher, except for brief quotations for reviews.
For further information, write Cinco Puntos Press, 701 Texas Avenue, El Paso, TX 79901; or call 1-915-838-1625.
FIRST EDITION
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Poniatowska, Elena.
[Soldaderas. English]
Las soldaderas: women of the Mexican Revolution / by Elena Poniatowska; translation by David Romo. -- 1st ed.
p. cm.
ISBN 9781933693514
1. Camp followers--Mexico--History--Pictorial works. 2. Mexico--History--Revolution, 1910-1920--Women--Pictorial works. 3. Women--Mexico--Social conditions--Pictorial works. 4. Women and the military--Mexico--History--Pictorial works. I. Romo, David Dorado. II. Title.
F1234.P78513 2006
972.08’160222--dc22
2006023353
Book and cover design by JB Bryan.
Translation by David Dorado Romo.
Contents
Las Soldaderas
The Casasola Collection
Elena Poniatowska
Elena Poniatowska
“‘The General promises to spare the lives of those who surrender immediately!’
“The soldiers didn’t answer.
“‘The General promises to spare the lives of those who surrender immediately!’
“When Villa entered Camargo with General Uribe at his side, a woman, whose face was completely disfigured by her suffering, rushed to meet them. She knelt two steps away from the rebel chief’s feet, her arms in the shape of a cross, and implored: ‘Sir, for the love of God, don’t kill my husband. I beg you, for the love of your mother!’
“‘Who is your husband, señora?’
“‘The paymaster. He’s a simple government employee, he’s not a combatant and that man standing beside you (General Baudelio Uribe) ordered an escort to take him to some unknown place.’
“Without the least show of emotion, General Uribe informed Villa: ‘The paymaster has already kicked the bucket.’
“Upon hearing this, the woman underwent an astonishing transformation. She stood up. Both the expression on her face and her words were no longer those of supplication but of revenge.
”‘Bandit son of a…! Murderer! Why don’t you kill me too?’
“A shot rang out from a .44 caliber pistol and the paymaster’s widow fell to the ground with her skull shattered.”
The woman’s murder wasn’t enough to calm Villa’s rage. Some of his local partisans, fearing that the Carrancista soldaderas might denounce them, asked him to kill the women. Villa ordered the execution of the ninety female prisoners.
Rafael F. Muñoz based his story Un disparo al vacío on this incident (which was told to him by José María Murrieta)—except in his account there were only sixty women. He denounces Villa’s treatment of both men and women who were taken prisoners during combat. His portrayal of Villa is powerful. It leaves a deep impression in our memories of the hard luster of his deep-set eyes, his rugged whiskers, his tightly fitting teeth—like those of a bulldog—jutting out from his wide jaws, his skin burned by the winter winds of the Mexican north, his cruel disposition.
According to the novelist, in 1916 Villa’s Dorados captured the train station from the Carrancistas in Santa Rosalía, Camargo, Chihuahua.11 Sixty soldaderas with their sons were taken prisoners. Someone from the group of women fired a shot that managed to nip the Centaur of the North’s hat.22
The Dorados were an elite corps personally loyal to Pancho Villa. They acted as bodyguards, adjutants or reserves in battle.
Pancho Villa.
Rafael F. Muñoz described his voice like a rumbling, his eyes like fire.
“Ladies, who fired that shot?”
The storyteller Muñoz describes how the group of women drew in even closer together. The shot had come from their direction.
Villa pulled out his gun and aimed it at the level of their heads.
“‘Ladies, who fired that shot?’
“And old woman with a pockmarked face raised her arm and yelled:
“‘All of us did. We all would like to kill you!’
“The rebel chief drew back.
“‘All of you? Then all of you will die before I do.’ […] The infantrymen began to tie them down, four, five or six in each ring.
“They tied the ropes tightly, bruising their flesh. In little time, the sixty women were tied up into ten or twelve bundles of human flesh, some standing up, others lying on the floor like stacks of firewood or barrels.
“The soldaderas screamed, not out of pain, but out of rage. There were no moans coming from the women’s mouths, only insults. They didn’t plead for mercy, instead they threatened an impossible revenge. The most blunt, vile and violent insults were heard coming from those piles of women pressed tightly against each other by the ropes. Sixty mouths cursing at once, sixty hatreds aimed at a single target, sixty imaginations searching for the cruelest, most bitter and searing phrase—a veritable symphony of curses and imprecations. […]
“Because the wood was dry and the wind blew, the human pyres burst into flame quickly. First, the women’s petticoats and their hair caught fire. Then the smell of burnt flesh. Yet the women never stopped cursing Villa. And after the blaze completely covered them, Villa heard a hoarse voice shouting from the pyre:
“‘You dog, son of a bitch! You will die like a dog!’
“One of Villa’s Dorados fired a shot and she crumbled underneath the flames.
“The Dorados rode back to town in silence until their chief spoke:
“‘What a damned bunch of loudmouthed women. How they insulted me! They were beginning to anger me.’”
There are several other accounts that confirm the massacre of the soldaderas. One of them states that a soldadera, whose husband was killed in the battle, fired the shot. Another, that a female colonel hiding among the group of women took advantage of the opportunity to try to assassinate Villa.
And one other account