The wind and rain of La Santa Rosa was still rattling the windows and inundating the city streets here in Buenos Aires as my first full week of both classes and my internship began. That is, Wednesday morning I arrived at the offices of CODESEDH (Committee for the Defense of Health, Ethics and Human Rights) on Avenida Sánz Peña for the first time. On my way via blocks of walking and a few transfers on three different subte lines, I stepped over four paraguas (umbrellas) that ‘Santa Rosa’ had snatched from the clutch of unfortunate commuters and carried off to their destruction. One really feels the bite of 9 degrees Celsius when the rain runs down your bare hands! But the cold didn’t permeate my spirits today. Today I appreciated just how unique this semester promises to be, ¡Dale! (‘dah-lay’ Bring it on).
Why had I just arrived at the offices of the human rights NGO (Non-Government Organization)? Last Friday I received word that my request to volunteer as an intern with CODESEDH had been accepted by María Ofelia, the organization’s director. As I arrived that gray day, I was quite glad to look across the street a block from the building’s entrance to see my friend and fellow Georgetown student, Ginny waving at me! We buzzed the intercom from below and waited to be let in. The office’s receptionist, Sabina, greeted us and once our meeting with María began, served us piping hot maté. We were briefed on more details about the role we will be playing for the next three months as volunteers. The organization is an umbrella for three main projects. First, it provides counsel and assistance to those testifying in cases involving state terrorism or violations of human rights – especially those perpetrated during the last military dictatorship between 1976 and 1983. In many cases, these witnesses are themselves the victims of torture or survivors of organized killings that were carried out against ‘enemies’ and political opponents of the state. Second, a wing of the operations carries out advocacy of the Declaration on the Rights of the Child. This international treaty on the rights of youth around the world was passed twenty years ago and remains unsigned by the United States. Third, the organization keeps an office dedicated to educating members of the community about human rights as well as collecting information about abuses of said rights. Sounded like a ‘field office’ outside of Buenos Aires to me.
Ginny, Toland and I will be working with the documents housed in the library and data-base as well as day-to-day activities of the office. On Mondays, I plan to attend the briefings where the team of lawyers and psychologist talk about current projects or trials that are being coordinated. This way, I’ll be able to learn how this unique civil society team works to carry out its work. Furthermore, I’ll be informed when and where the trials are being held – some of which will be outside the city itself and will provide a few unique travel opportunities!
Later that day, I found myself sitting in class at la UCA once again for Latin American Politics and braced for what can be a two hour battle to remain focused enough to follow Santiago’s disjointed lecture. This night, however, I was pleasantly surprised that the topic pulled me in more than any other lecture has to date.
The topic was indigenous movements in Latin America. Santiago is a short man who wears clothes that can best be described by imagining if Banana Republic had a sporty line of clothing. He wears classes and has long black hair that resembles Jesse’s hair from Full House. He kicked off the night’s class by asking a difficult question: ‘How can we measure the indigenous population of the countries of Central and South America?’ My Argentine friends (who are all brilliant and progressive minded International Relation students in their last year of university) all began interjecting ways to classify and count the number of natives living in countries. Jimena chimed in about the hair and skin color, and Leandro insisted that height and facial features were just as important in determining if someone was Indian or not. Magdalena suggested language as a determining factor. As the list of features grew, my lessons from Dr. (Charles) King’s lecture on the social construction of race and ethnicity flooded my memory. For the first time in this class that usually leaves me feeling like a fish out of water (with the subject not being my expertise), I confidently chimed in that the best way to measure the indigenous populations is to determine on an individual basis who identifies as Indian. “Raza es una construción social,” I said. Race is a social construction.
Just as I had hit a mental barrier in Professor King’s class last semester, my Argentine friends seemed stymied by the proposal. Suggesting that being of one identity group wasn’t an objective question based on biology or genealogy, but a subjective question was getting the same skeptical reaction from my new classmates that it had the first time I grappled with the idea.
The class continued and we concluded that simply looking indigenous doesn’t mean that the individual is indigenous. For example, if the individual doesn’t speak the native tongue, has a Spanish name and is not tied to the traditional agricultural economy of Latin America’s natives, how could it be meaningful to call him Indian? For the sake of making an accurate social and political description of his identity the opinions, preferences and occupations he holds ought to be weighed more significantly than skin color.
It was great feeling like I had something to contribute to class that night. If you’re still struggling with the very thin outline of the argument on the socially created significance of race – I’d be happy to debate it further with you! It’s wild social science!
For now, I’m going to sign off with the hopes that my raincoat has dried, the rain ceases and that Argentina wins the futbol match against 2010 World Cup Champion, Spain, on Tuesday this week. I’ll be there in my Blue and White supporting my surrogate country!
Ciao.
