Most of the Ayoreo were violently forced out of their traditional territory during the second half of the 20th century and were “reduced” to small settlements, where they had to become sedentary to survive. The first encounters were registered in 1711 and 1726, when the Jesuits founded the San Ignacio de Zamucos mission with several local Ayoreo groups. In 1745, an uprising put an end to this establishment. Over a hundred years went by before there were news regarding the Ayoreo. The local group Jnupegosode got close to the Santa Cruz-Puerto Suárez railroad workers in Bolivia.

Throughout the first half of the 20th century, people who worked in oil companies came into contact with them in the Paraguayan Chaco. In the 1960s, a systematic search and contact process was initiated to find the Ayoreo. It concluded with their deportation and their reduction to missionary settlements. The last case of contact and sedentarization of isolated groups in Paraguay dates back to 2004.

The Guaraní Indigenous Autonomy of Charagua aims at maintaining the protected areas to guarantee the autonomous decision of no contact by the isolated Ayoreo groups. Photo: ORE / Andrés Unterladstaetter

The Guaraní Indigenous Autonomy of Charagua aims at maintaining the protected areas to guarantee the autonomous decision of no contact by the isolated Ayoreo groups. Photo: ORE / Andrés Unterladstaetter

Evidence and testimonies of those isolated

The presence of isolated groups in Bolivia and Paraguay is known in both countries. In Bolivia, information has been collected methodic and systematically, although it has been difficult to do it on a sustained basis. In Paraguay, Iniciativa Amotocoide has conducted a systematic monitoring of isolated groups since 2002.

With the testimony of the sedentarized Ayoreo and the records of the signs of their presence, Iniciativa Amotocoide calculates there are at least ten small groups (or family groups), separated and with communication among them, that continue their nomadic life in the north and west of the Paraguayan Chaco. They are estimated to be between 80 and 150 people and, at least one group, is part of the local people of Totobiegosode. The others are yet to be identified.

In little over ten years, areas and routes used by nomadic groups were identified. The signs registered are varied: wholes left in trees after a recent extraction of honey; clan symbols on tree barks and cacti; tools and huts found in clearings and the delineation of now furrows; shamanic markings warning other groups of their presence or the area that can be reached without resorting to violence; footprints near bodies of water and trails in the hills; and objects left close to settlements as a sign of peace, friendship, or exchange.

Regarding the testimonies, there have been sightings of naked people holding weapons or tools, as well as voices and cries heard by non-indigenous people. One of the most important record is the testimony of elder Ayoreo members who remember relatives who never left the area and that, because of the time elapsed, it is possible to assume they are still alive.

Deforestation, usurpation and risk of contact

The advance of the land clearing endangers both the survival of the isolated peoples and their ways of life. On a daily basis, the Paraguayan Chaco loses close to 800 hectares of forest, which represents the fastest deforestation in the world. The traditional territory of the Ayoreo people is directly impacted by this ecocide and those groups living in voluntary isolation are the most vulnerable. To this threat, we must add the building of roads, drug trafficking, the missionary groups, mining, exploratory oil drillings, and, of course, climate change. Moreover, the Paraguayan State has not yet formally recognized the existence of isolated groups, and there are no public policies created for their protection.

The advance of the economic exploitation towards their territories means the occupation of areas which are vital for the Ayoreo groups. Agrobusiness is, currently, the main reason for deforestation of the Chaco forest and, as a consequence, the Ayoreo world is being destroyed. Besides the irrecoverable loss of their habitat, this represents an exponential increase in situations that endanger those isolated: forced displacement, disease transmission, loss of food sovereignty, death, undesired contact, and violent encounters with casualties on both sides.

Sometimes, the isolated are considered intruders when they enter private property. Due to the increasing water shortage, they are forced to risk being exposed when they get close to cattle ranches at night in order to extract water from the cutwaters. The same strategy is used to collect salt.

In this context, we should highlight that Paraguay has the highest percentage of land concentration in the world. According to its Gini coefficient (0.93), Paraguay almost reaches perfect inequality. Most estates, cleared due to monoculture plantations or cattle ranching, were acquired illegitimately. The Ayoreo lands began to be usurped during the dictatorship of Alfredo Stroessner (1954-1989) and the governments led by the Colorado Party (1989- 2008). Based on privileges granted by the government and legal trickery, the alleged new owners do not acknowledge any right to land previous to the one granted by the States. The conflict usually causes protests and killings, which is the reason why violence is increasing in the area.

At the same time land concentration and deforestation are happening, the isolated Ayoreo still practice their nomadic way of life and walk the same migratory routes used by previous generations. According to their cosmovision, there are no political borders and modern legality does not guarantee land ownership. Their migratory routes are increasingly busy and fragmented by people, fences, roads, and the facilities of the extractive industries. The consequence is obvious: the occupation of their lands negatively affects traditional practices of the Ayoreo people living in voluntary isolation.

The forest and agrobusiness. Soybean and corn planting increase along deforestation, to the detriment of biodiversity in the Chaco region. Photo: ORE / Andrés Unterladstaetter

The forest and agrobusiness. Soybean and corn planting increase along deforestation, to the detriment of biodiversity in the Chaco region. Photo: ORE / Andrés Unterladstaetter

Fires, roads and forced evangelization

In 2012, in a hearing before the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights (IACHR), it was evidenced that the accelerated growth of the farming frontier in the territories where the isolated Ayoreo live had increased sightings in the Chaco region. That same year, the Bolivian government passed Supreme Decree No. 1286 establishing an area of 536,568 hectares where land protection measures would be applied before conducting interdisciplinary studies. This area was located in the Ñembi Guasu Area of Conservation and Ecological Importance, which is part of both the Kaa-Iya National Park and the Otuquis National Park, within the jurisdiction of the Guaraní Indigenous Autonomy of Charagua Iyambae (bordering Paraguay). However, the studies required by the decree were not conducted and the measures were not implemented.

The most catastrophic event, which affected the roads used by isolated and non-isolated Ayoreo families, occurred during August and October 2019 with the forest fires in Chiquitanía and the Bolivian Chaco. These fires acquired unseen dimensions. According to the Authority of Fiscalization and Social Control of Forests and Land, the surface affected amounted to 3,519,843 hectares, while other sources suggest it reached more than 5 million. The fire impacted mostly the ecosystems defined in the Supreme Decree No. 1286 within the Guaraní protected area of Ñembi Guasu, bordering Paraguay. With this catastrophe, it is possible to assume that the areas where the nomadic isolated people lives have been absolutely modified, causing the decree to be mostly outdated.

The expansion of the road network represents a great impact on the land, with traumatic and irreversible effects on the lives of the isolated groups. An open road is the first step towards a new clearing, the illegal extraction of precious wood, poachers, and speculative developers. If the roads are paved, the impact is even greater. Infrastructure works have negative effects derived from deforestation and the loss of vital ecosystem services for indigenous and non-indigenous people. To the isolated, it also represents a disruption to the unity of their land, a new reference, and a new obstacle to overcome.

In 2020, a project by the Ministry of Public Works and Communications of Paraguay became news. It would allow the building of a road across Defensores del Chaco National Park and would permanently alter the life of the isolated and the animals of the area. It would be the second heavy-traffic high-speed road to cross the park. According to the project, they are planning bridges and sewers over the streams and over the river Timane. This means it will be considered a national route, which will greatly affect the environment.

Finally, even though it is still considered inadmissible to contact the isolated groups “to save them and teach them the word of Christ”, the missionary action continues during the 21st century. In both countries, the church known as A Nuevas Tribus aims at evangelizing the Ayoreo people, constantly organizing international and intercommunity trips. Consequently, the Ayoreo are forced to deny their cosmovision due to decisions imposed by Christian missionaries, which also represents a form of ethnocide.

The forest megafires that devastated Bolivia in 2019 affected more than 3.5 million hectares, endangering the lives of the isolated groups. Photo: Pablo Ortiz

The forest megafires that devastated Bolivia in 2019 affected more than 3.5 million hectares, endangering the lives of the isolated groups. Photo: Pablo Ortiz

Determinants of genocide

The violent transformation and usurpation of traditional Ayoreo land force those isolated to abandon some regions. Escaping is always traumatic and carries risks: they may find intruders in the forests and, many times, the invaders carry out manhunts to get rid of them and occupy the land, which is a clear example of ethnic cleansing. The elders who had experienced these situations and who are now sedentarized explain that it is very difficult and painful to try to understand from their cultural perspective what is happening in the forest. Fear of the unknown leads to a state of tension that causes social and individual stress. Sometimes, moving away is not an option so they remain close to the risk area not knowing how long the danger will persist.

The Ayoreo groups living in voluntary isolation are experimenting a worsening of their already difficult living conditions. On the Bolivian side of the border, the Guaraní Indigenous Autonomy of Charagua is considering the option of creating a special category of protected area. It would be an intangible good in order to guarantee the autonomous decision of no contact of the isolated Ayoreo. The demarcation of an intangible land would mean a double layer of protection and would allow them to recompose a land that has been affected by unprecedented environmental catastrophes. Having access to land is a fundamental condition to avoid contact with the national society.

The different threats described lead to genocide, which is encouraged by the development model and is actively supported by the governments. Those who are part of the State and are responsible for this crime must make it come to an end immediately by implementing different actions: limiting the access of individuals, returning traditional lands to the Ayoreo people, stopping the traffic and the advancement in the territory, and saving the ecosystems affected by the fires. The Paraguayan and Bolivian States have the power to take these measures. Political will is the only thing needed to stop the genocide.

Miguel Lovera, Jieun Kang, Miguel Ángel Alarcón y Norma Flores Allende are members of the Amotocodie Initiative, an institution in Paraguay that works for the protection of the Chaco region and accompanies the Ayoreo people in the defense of their land, culture and ways of life.

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Antonia Urrejola: We are indeed living in a time in which there is more discussion than ever before about how international bodies come to tell States what to do. It’s a debate that has always existed, but now it has taken on greater force. Beyond the respective political inclinations of each government, there is a tendency to question human rights bodies in particular, putting forward a discourse of national sovereignty and of non-interference on a domestic level. The issue is particularly complicated in highly polarised countries. When the IACHR denounces a human rights violation in a given country, that denunciation is against the State, which has the obligation to prevent, investigate and punish such violations. Unfortunately, in the current context of polarization present in various countries in the region, our declarations, even when they are in accordance with our mandate and independent of the government in power, are often used in internal debate, depending on the political situation at the time.

On the other hand, we must always remember that multilateral organisations such as the OAS or the UN are made up of states and are therefore not supranatural but instead intergovernmental bodies. The OAS is no more than what its states want it to be. They determine the organisation’s policies and priorities. However, it should be noted that the Commission, although part of the OAS, functions as an autonomous body. The seven commissioners who make up the Commission were elected by the OAS Assembly, but we have full autonomy and we do not answer to any State and in turn, our decisions reflect that autonomy.

Urrejola with women from the Qhara Qhara Nation. Photo: IACHR

DI: What is the main strength of the work the commission does?

AU: Our strength lies in our permanent monitoring of the human rights situation throughout the continent, in making serious violations of rights visible to the international community and especially in our recommendations and declarations to the States to make progress in preventing human rights violations or, if they occur, in investigating them and ensuring those responsible are held accountable. But the strength of our recommendations depends very much on the States’ political will to comply with them. The same applies to the judgments of the Inter-American Court or the recommendations of the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights. But again, I insist that, beyond the strength of our declarations, implementation depends on the political will of the States concerned by these declarations. But as we find ourselves within a context where several States are questioning multilateral bodies, the political will tends to be diluted. An important part of our mandate is to monitor the human rights situation and to denounce human rights violations committed by States and this is obviously always cause for tensions. In the past, States resolved these tensions privately and diplomatically. Today, to the extent of multilateral bodies being questioned, these tensions and questionings are often made public and that does little to help resolve human rights issues, but instead often generates even more tension.

DI: The political cost of States ignoring the Commission does not seem very high…

AU: I feel like in the past, those in power felt that there was a political cost, a kind of moral damage, if they were to publicly oppose themselves to the commission. Today, this is no longer the case and often this cost is insignificant. Criticism of the decisions or reports of the IACHR or the Court, questioning our mandate or objectivity by some States, sometimes by the presidents of the republic themselves, tells us that in many cases there is no cost whatsoever to questioning the Inter-American System or the work of human rights protection bodies in general. On the contrary, sometimes these questionings – that we are intervening in internal affairs or that we are politicized and biased – are made for reasons of internal policy, and this not only weakens the work of the human rights bodies, I insist, but the very defence of human rights as such. That is what worries me.

DI: How do victims react to the system’s slow pace or ineffectiveness?

AU: Many human rights organisations feel frustrated about the fact that we seem to be able to do no more than denounce, time and again, the same human rights violations. And they demand we do more. The court, for its part, issues judgements determining responsibility for human rights violations, establishing recommendations to states and following up on compliance with the judgments. But it can’t force states to comply with the judgments either. The strength of the ISHR lies in its declarations and judgments. States, by virtue of their own sovereignty, submit to the system and, by virtue of the principle of good faith, must comply with the recommendations. And when serious violations of human rights occur, people rightly think that the system is insufficient.

Urrejola in Santo Domingo during the 168^th period of the IACHR in 2018. Photo: IACHR

DI: How do you view the efficiency of the human rights system?

AU: In my opinion, both the United Nations system and the Inter-American System continue to be effective and play a key role. Firstly, by making cases of human rights violations visible. Because it has an effect, not only before the international community, but also internally. And, above all, I believe that it is a way to support the victims. On many occasions, the victims have expressed to us their interest in having their voice heard on the outside and the importance of feeling accompanied. At the end of the day, it is also a protective measure. Despite the weaknesses of the system, it is important for an international body to publicly point out when human rights are being violated. Or that precautionary measures are provided for a given person or group, since in some way there is a kind of inhibition on the part of states or state-owned agents. I believe that this continues to be very important in the region and in the context we find ourselves in. On the other hand, through the recommendations and judgments of the system’s bodies, human rights standards and principles are being established, which are permeating the spheres of public bodies and public policies, even if the immediate effect is not seen.

DI: And what is the effectiveness in countries with authoritarian governments that do not want to comply with the rulings?

AU: In authoritarian countries, where there is no division of power and impunity reigns, the commission fulfils its role of documenting human rights violations. Alongside the accompaniment of the victims, this documentation is very important for when processes are successfully initiated, such as in transitional justice, where human rights violations can be investigated and sanctioned. Therefore, this task of identifying and making visible – even if it’s not with immediate effect – plays a fundamental role.

DI: How does the Commission work in the countries where you are Rapporteur, such as Colombia, Ecuador and Nicaragua?

AU: The Commission is concerned about the escalating violence in Colombia. After a brief period of calm following the Peace Agreement, the various armed groups have now regrouped. At a meeting of indigenous women in Medellin, we were informed that after the Peace Agreement, the armed groups were not eliminated, but instead the actors changed. One leader told us they had previously managed to exist with the FARC, because although they had serious conflicts with them, they knew who was who and where not to go. There was a kind of pact of coexistence. But with the Peace Agreement, new, unknown armed groups appeared, putting pressure on their territories. These were FARC dissidents, paramilitaries and groups linked to drug trafficking and with their arrival, the violence intensified. For the indigenous peoples, the map of actors changed completely and, therefore, so did their methods of defence. Regardless of what the indigenous organizations think, I don’t think the state has quite understood the map of the new actors either. What is happening in Colombia is very complex and very tragic, following the hopes that were generated by the signing of the Peace Agreement. Despite the fact that we have had differences with the current government, I have to admit that from the IACHR we have managed to achieve a dialogue and advance in the implementation of precautionary measures, friendly settlement agreements. The same goes for Ecuador. At the end of the day, both States provide us with information and their various authorities participate in the working meetings and hearings. Dialogue is possible, beyond the differences and tensions that logically exist in some situations.

In 2019, Urrejola led a visit to the headquarters of the Confederación de Nacionalidades Indígenas del Ecuador (CONAIE) to hear testimonies on the violation of human rights. Photo: IACHR

DI: And what about Nicaragua?

AU: Unfortunately we have no dialogue with the Nicaraguan state. We maintain a monitoring mechanism, although we have no real influence on the state itself. But for the organizations, the work of the Commission continues to be fundamental in making human rights violations visible because, when in a way, the world has forgotten about Nicaragua. The State is not present at the working meetings or public hearings of the IACHR: during my three-year term as Rapporteur for Nicaragua, they participated in only one meeting to discuss the prior consultation with the Miskito people of the Atlantic Coast. And lately they have not responded to our requests for information either. I find it unfortunate that they accuse us of having a biased position. At the end of the day, if the state refuses to give us its own view of the facts, they cannot accuse us of not being impartial when they don’t provide us with information.

DI: As Rapporteur for indigenous peoples, have you seen any significant changes in the use of the Inter-American System by indigenous organizations?

AU: The indigenous issue has always been present in the Commission. In fact, the Rapporteurship has been working since the 1990s and we have several thematic reports and cases that have reached the courts. I believe that the Interamerican System has made a great contribution in the area of indigenous rights. What has changed is related to the evolution of the indigenous organizations themselves, which is evident in the indigenous representation before the Commission. The organisations have become much more familiar with the system. And it has been very important for the Commissioners and officials of the Commission to have direct contact with the indigenous representatives. One of our priorities has been to provide indigenous organisations with direct training on the Interamerican System so that they can use it themselves. Without devaluing the role of the institutions supporting the indigenous movement, it has been important for us to have direct contact with indigenous communities and organisations.

DI: Has Covid-19 made this interaction more difficult?

AU: Paradoxically, in this time of pandemic and digital divide, thanks to Zoom, I have had even more contact with the representatives of the indigenous territories. Before, due to time constraints, during my country visits, we did not move far from the big cities, except for the in loco visits. Both for the organisations and for the Commission, this increase in direct dialogue has been a learning experience and we have been able to give more content to the perspective of the indigenous peoples themselves, without intermediaries, regarding the human rights situations that afflict them, their priorities and their proposals for tackling the challenges they face.

DI: However, the Inter-American Court has issued a number of important rulings in favour of indigenous peoples who do not comply…

AU: I fully understand the frustration of the organizations in terms of the effectiveness of the system. But I would like to highlight two issues. On the one hand, the effect of the judgement on each individual case. And the second is the importance of the judgement in the evolution of human rights standards. Judgements have a multiplying effect on all states, on public policies, on legislation and on the awareness of complying with the standards that these judgements set out. The court’s rulings are interpretive of the Inter- American Convention and the inter-American standards are developed through the judgements. Likewise, the judgements permeate the public policies of the states. The latest judgement of Lhaka Honat vs. the Argentine state argues for the right of indigenous communities to adequate food and water. It is true that the effects of these judgements take years, but the ruling is remarkable and shows the importance of the system and its evolution.

Urrejola is also the Rapporteur for Truth and Justice and Rapporteur for Nicaragua, Colombia, Ecuador and Guyana. Photo: IACHR

DI: This frustration is also associated with the setback of many rights.

AU: That is true and I am concerned about these setbacks. In public discourse, there are elected authorities in several countries in the region who are re-justifying human rights violations, torture or justifying the disproportionate use of force by police in demonstrations. Security forces are once again using repressive force that had been unheard of on the continent. The problem is that the excessive use of force is beginning to be justified by society and we are returning to an attitude of “them” and “us”. Therefore, I believe there are setbacks that go beyond the discourse of some authorities, who undoubtedly bear much of the responsibility for this, there is also a setback in the civic debate. On the one hand, we are making great progress in human rights standards and raising awareness, but on the other hand, we are seeing that human rights violations such as extrajudicial executions or torture are once again being accepted or justified. It took us many years for clear standards to exist on issues related to crimes against humanity, for example, torture, and now we see how many sectors of our societies are once again justifying some of these violations.

DI: In the face of these setbacks, where does your hope lie?

AU: I’d like to reiterate that I understand the frustration of people who need solutions in the face of displacement, threats and killings. And unfortunately, often the people who fought for these sentences don’t get to see the impact they have made. But beyond that, the Commission’s recommendations and the Court’s rulings are generating a kind of “inter-American awareness” regarding human rights. And that is very positive from the point of view of respect for human rights in the region.

My hope lies with the victims and their families. On every trip I have had to make as Commissioner, I have heard heart-breaking stories from victims and their families throughout our continent. There is something of great importance that I always carry with me, which is a role that is not in the convention, nor in the OAS charter, nor in the IACHR regulations or statute. Nor is it in the doctrinal analyses of inter-American jurisprudence or the impact of the system. It is in fact, the reparative role that the IACHR has, simply by being a space where the victims are being listened to. It is impossible to build a democratic country without the victims being given a space to tell their stories. And I think that often, the IACHR succeeds in providing that space. At the end of the day, to be able to lend an ear to the silences that want to be heard, is without a doubt one of the IACHR’s greatest contributions and impacts and one of which I am very proud to be a part of.

I always remember my teacher and great human rights defender, who recently passed away this year, José Zalaquett, who said: “If you are thinking of establishing a link between the actions we develop and concrete changes, you are in the wrong business. In human rights, you shoot an arrow and you don’t know where it will land. Success is measured by the number of arrows you shoot”. To a certain extent, that is our job.

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In effect, for many indigenous peoples throughout the Americas, conceptions of gender and sexuality are rooted in their founding myths, the origin of their existence originating from sacred dual forces. In the region of Mesoamerica, among the Nahuas, it was believed that all existence was the result of the actions of Ometeotl, the sacred force composed of Omecihuatl (dual woman) and Ometecuhtli (dual man), in other words, a sacred and philosophical entity composed of the female-male pair.

In the Andean region, the sacred and creative principle was attributed to the deity of Viracocha, the sacred force that meant father-mother. They were even invoked as such in their native Quechua language: “Cay cari cachon, cay uarmi cachon”, which means, “be it male or female”. This conception is also reminiscent of the body, as they were revered as ulca apo, i.e. lord of the ulli (phallus) and the raca (vulva).

It was believed that the strength of these dual principles was projected onto human reality and the cosmos in its surrounding and all-encompassing quality. Their evolution in the terrestrial sphere meant they endowed each territorial space with attributes of one of each of the poles of duality, which implied the geographical partition and boundaries were defined by the differentiation of its gender qualities. Likewise, the activities of social reproduction depended on the division of the activities carried out by each individual according to their gender. While men were in charge of work in the public sphere and women in the domestic sphere, there were other realms that required the work of both: a kind of asymmetrical co-responsibility in which, according to the gender value the work entailed, some assumed responsibility and the direction of the actions, while others obeyed and assisted.

“Danza de las mascaritas” (Masked dance) in Santa María Huazolotitlan (Oaxaca, Meexico). Photo: Óscar González Gómez

Therefore, rather than adhering to fixed identity definitions, people acquired a gender position which depended on the role they embodied in a specific space and time. Thus, each human body went from an exclusive male-female polarity, to an intermediate stage, a continuous transit that required complementing each other in order to reproduce and maintain life. In both the social and domestic economy, the gender positions of each individual were required to maintain a collective cohesion. In short, more value was given to the diversity of gender positions, which each person took on to uphold a common livelihood, than the recognition of one’s individual identity.

Today, in addition to social reproduction activities, this gendered conception is implicit in indigenous rituals, traditions and dances. But above all, it is observed during the festivities associated with periods of agricultural fertility in which the various identities are collectively visible and recognized. In a large number of dances performed during the sowing and harvest periods, the corporal narrative of these dances maintains a close connection with human sexuality: young couples perform acts of courtship or they personify elderly people, who engage with the audience through verbal games and erotic interactions to the amusement of the audience. Lastly, there are men wo dress up in female clothes, pertaining to different ages, and are characterized by their insolent and lubricious behaviour.

Regarding the latter, some ethnographic studies have stated that these performers consider their acts to be of a clown-like nature. Others, however, associate them with a personification of the devil. Some anthropologists see them more as tricksters, given they assume a temporal, spatial and moral ambiguity.

In her study Eroticism, Sexuality and Humour in the Bolivian Highland Dances, social anthropologist Eveline Sigl (2012) explains that men who perform characters in female dress such as Awicha, Awila or Tayka (the “grandmother”) can be considered as ritual transformists, as their intention is not to represent a woman, but an intermediate state that combines the polarities of male and female, man and woman. Their ambiguous posture sustains the duality and their expressive quality and is one of mischief and audacity to potentiate their role in acts of collective entertainment. They portray allegories of sexual pleasure because their aim is to bring joy to those attending, while simultaneously, pass that joy on to mother earth, considering it to ba a prerequisite for her fertility. In essence, within these communal festivities, they contribute to the gratification of the Pachamama and the spirits of the seeds planted, so that the harvest and the coming agricultural year will be fruitful for everyone.

“Danza de las mascaritas” (Masked dance) in Santa María Huazolotitlan (Oaxaca, Meexico). Photo: Óscar González Gómez

The masked dance as a space for the expression of diversity

In Huazolotitlán, a ñuu savi (Mixtec) village on the Oaxacan coast in southern Mexico, a group of young people in 1998 requested that the community allow them to perform “the masked dance” again, after its removal from their festivities over a decade ago. Today it once again forms part of the dance repertoire within the festivities and ritual life of the coastal ñuu savi peoples. To such an extent that it is now recognized as an expression of their identity. It consists of choreographies by at least eight couples, each made up of a male and female character, all interpreted by exclusively male performers wearing wooden masks and allusive clothing. The act is accompanied by an orchestra that consists of a drummer, two saxophones, a trombone and at least three trumpets. The narrative of movements vary according to the rhythmic pattern of the more than 25 musical sounds that accompany them: the dancers form pairs by standing in two parallel rows facing each other, one side for the men and the other for the women. They perform a series of steps, as one side mirrors the other, linked together in cyclical body movements.

These dances being reintroduced to their ritual festivities, brought great joy to the group of young people. Beyond them being able to take on the role of female characters, the dance provided them with a space to express themselves openly. Although most of them refer to themselves as “homosexuals” or “gays”, they often prefer to avoid specific labels. Whenever emotional significance is attributed to their identification with the female character, they attest: “Since I’ve started participating in these dances, my family knows what my person is. They know who I am.” As a consequence, even though Huazolotitlán has embraced diverse sexual gender identities, they have also been given new meaning and, instead of using them as nominations pertaining to their sexual orientation or ‘preferences’, they are understood as a gender identity or personal identification with female attributes. This notion is reflected in the word used to refer to them in their native language: ru ndux’ ɨ ɨ translated into English means “man-woman”, or “effeminate”, “woman-like” or “feminine”.

With the community’s acceptance, these young members set up a group that regularly performs their dances on December 24 and 25, as well as several performances during the carnival period. At first, the village had its reservations, given that the young people chose to modify the costumes of the female characters by opting for fitted dresses (instead of those made of traditional cotton), incorporated high-heels, changed some dance steps and added music from other villages. Nevertheless, they managed to develop their own dance style and are now recognised for the quality of their performances. Even among the rest of the peoples in the ñuu savi region, dance has become an important point of reference for the visibility of men who identify as homosexuals, gays or ru ndux’ ɨ ɨ.

Beyond their dances, these men have an impact on the social reproduction activities of their village and especially those who are regarded as female within their families: some are responsible for domestic work and the care of younger siblings or their elderly parents; others are involved in trading, selling agricultural products and household goods; and some opt for artistic and aesthetic work such as creating choreographies for 15th birthday celebrations or creating commemorative objects for weddings and baptisms. However, the work for which they are most in demand for, is the manufacture of textiles and the production of traditional clothing, made on waist looms and hand embroidered.

The individual and collective effort to maintain traditional practices has allowed for the social recognition and integration of men of diverse sexual gender identities in the ñuu savi peoples of the Oaxacan coast. The value they have been given, is not a result of them claiming their identity in line with non-discriminatory legal principles. On the contrary, it is the outcome of a process of community reciprocity: respect and social recognition are obtained by complying with the rules and collective methods of organization, because through these, traditions are preserved, a space of authority is generated and the identity of a community is kept alive.

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