SHOT 2008 "To Sit or Kneel: Creating Gender, Race, and Nation in Central America"

TO SIT OR KNEEL: CREATING GENDER, RACE, AND NATION IN CENTRALAMERICA

Heather J. Abdelnur, Ph.D.Augusta State University, Georgia U.S.A.

Society for the History of Technology50 th Annual Meeting, Lisbon, Portugal 2008

Introductions

Over the past year I have been reconsidering just how I

approach the History of Latin America. Trained in the economic

history of the Caribbean Basin and shaped to concentrate more

specifically on the connections of trade and transport in the

highlands of Central America, I have moved further and further from

my initial doctoral research on the intrusions of British textiles

into the ports of the former Kingdom of Guatemala and the resultant

destruction of its own local textile industry within the triangle

of trade in Salvadoran indigo, lowland cotton, and highland

weaving. I have become much more interested in the “who” of the

production of goods and the “how” of the method of that production

and focused my attentions on those that wove, what types of

products they created, and for whose ownership those products would

ultimately find themselves. Along the way, I have uncovered

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fascinating accounts of angry guild members frustrated by

indigenous hawkers of thread, ladies and household mistresses

crying over the supposed theft of precious items by their servants,

the importation of a wide variety of textiles from Europe and Asia

housed in the shops of wealthy merchants, pawnshops with an

abundance of textiles for sale on their shelves, and indigenous

peoples continuing to produce goods for their own consumption as

had occurred from time immemorial.

I am firmly convinced that a reliable way of measuring the

changes in gender stratified work environments, the shifting nature

of social definitions of male and female, and the overall fusion of

a multitude of ethnic peoples into what is now modern-day Central

America can happen through the investigation of weaving practices

by a chronological approach to society’s past. Some of what will

be presented here requires an interdisciplinary investigation

through archaeological record, correlation of print media and

colonial archival research, and, for the more recent era, travel

accounts, as well as personal time spent researching in Central

America. My intent is to present a revisionist take on the social

history of Guatemala and the surrounding nations—areas of the

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former Maya kingdoms—through a survey of the weaving “environment”

over the course of more than 500 years. So that it will not be a

total blur, I will accompany some portions of what I am discussing

with visual imagery for greater emphasis and clarity as well as to

provide primary examples related to my topic.

Part I—Pre-Columbian

Prior to Spanish arrival in what is now the region of Central

America and Southern Mexico in the 1520s, commonly called

Mesoamerica for certain cultural commonalities, weaving had been an

essential part of the woman’s sphere of duties, with much precious

time devoted to care of family and preparation of food as well as

for the creation of essential textiles. From the archaeological

record, scholars have uncovered the remains of textile impressions

in clay artifacts at Maya sites from somewhere in the range of 900-

1500 CE.1 These fabric imprints in the clay hint at pattern, but

cannot indicate gender, symbolism, color, or function. There is

also no evidence to demonstrate just how Mesoamerican women adopted

and adapted the stick loom technology to their own purposes.2 1 See Patricia Rieff Anawalt, “Out of the Past,” available online as continuous text at http://www2.essex.ac.uk/arthistory/arara/issue_six/paper4.html.2 Cherri Pancake brought to light some thirty years ago the fact that the Mesoamerican loom development “must be a matter of speculation, since it appearsin the archaeological evidence only in its completed form.” See “Textile

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There are, however, many other examples of weaving and sewing

apparatus that appear in the form of tools from spindle whorls

dating back to the 500s BCE and spinning bowls/gourds, to bone

needles and awls, as well as fragments of female figurines

representing weavers, all of which pepper the archaeological

sites.3 Part of the extreme importance to historians in utilizing

the evidence provided by archaeologists is that there is not a

single (to the best of my knowledge) remaining piece of woven cloth

from the pre-Columbian or even the colonial period originating in

the highlands of Mesoamerica. The reason for this complete lack of

textiles or “prehispanic costumes” is due mostly to climate, though

Patricia Anawalt also attributes this loss to the burial practices

of pre-Columbian Middle Americans.4 Cloth and clothing remains areTraditions of the Highland Maya: Some Aspects of Development and Change,” 3.3 See Anne Pollard Rowe, A Century of Change in Guatemalan Textiles, 13. She states, “Butfor the highlands, the only specific traces for most of the area’s history are clay spindle whorls, and impressions of coarse plain-weave textiles on pottery. This evidence allowsus to say that they did indeed spin and weave, probably cotton, but that is all.” This is also documented by Cherri Pancake with the caution that this may be backed up to an earlier date if more evidence is retrieved, from page 1 of her4 See Anawalt, “Prehispanic Survivals,” El Palacio, 13. This is also indicated by Krystyna Deuss as she states, “A major frustration for those wishing to trace the development of Maya textiles from Pre-Columbian times through to the 20th Century has always been the lack of material evidence. Apart from some tiny cloth remnants found at various archaeological sites, no known examples of highland Maya weaving exist prior to Maudslay’s collection…” See Deuss, “A Glimpse of Guatemala: A Century of Change in Maya Weavings,” Ghereh, 13. Even Rowe states on page 13 that, “At the outset it must be admitted that very littleis known about either weaving or costume of the Guatemalan highlands before the

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nearly impossible to conceive of in the extremely damp, humid,

tropical lowland environment of Yucatan, and the coastline of

Central America. Equally problematic is the damp, humid, cloud

forest environment of Chiapas or the Central American highlands.

Scholars are left with a fragment or two from Jaina, or the “Island

of the Dead”, off the coast of Campeche in Mexico, or the remains

of pottery with hints at the wrappings of textiles from sacred

sites, like those dredged from the well, or cenote, of Chichen Itzá

in the late 19th century as well as from other areas of Yucatán,

México and the Petén of northern Guatemala.5

Images of Mayan gods and goddesses, some representing weaving

and others with elaborate textile presentations can be found in the

Dresden, Madrid, Paris, and Grolier codices, or “screen-folded

manuscripts”.6 These are the only four surviving pre-Columbian

written records of the Maya; all others suffered destruction by

late 19th century.” See also Hilda Delgado Pang in “Similarities between CertainEarly Spanish, Contemporary Spanish Folk, and Mesoamerican Indian Textile DesignMotifs,” page 388, where she claims, “Unfortunately, while there is some information on costume at Contact, specifics on design are almost nil.”5 See Harriet F. Beaubien, “Textile-Clay Laminates:  A special-use material in ancient Mesoamerica,” on the FAMSI website at http://www.famsi.org/reports/01010/section03.htm an image of textile impressions in clay.Anawalt in “Out of the Past” also documents the retrievals from the well at Chichen Itza, though saying that precise patterns are “too blackened to make outprecise patterns.” 6 http://digital.library.northwestern.edu/codex/background.html.

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fire upon arrival of the Spanish.7 The Paris codex is very fragile

to the point of near disintegration, and the Grolier codex is

merely a few surviving fragments. Of great use to the social

historian and, for those interested in technology, are the images

contained in the Dresden, though somewhat damaged in WWII, and

Madrid booklets. Not only do the codices provide valuable

information revealing the everyday life and religious practices of

the pre-Columbian Maya, they provide direct evidence of elite

clothing and ritual associations with cloth and bodily adornment

and the physical means by which the weavers created loincloths,

capes, skirts, and other pieces.8

The linkages between the everyday and the divine are furthered

by connecting weaving with an actual Mayan goddess, thus indicating

the importance of textile arts as a major foundation of the

occupational function of the female sex in the pre-Conquest period.

This deity was the goddess of rains and floods, weaving, and

childbirth—essentially, the goddess of women’s “nature” and

7 Images of the three of the codices are online at the UC Irvine website at http://www.lib.uci.edu/libraries/exhibits/meso/maya2.html. 8 See Rosemary Joyce of Harvard University “Images of Gender and Labor Organization in Classic Maya Society,” Chapter 6 page 63, Figures 1 and 2, though the images originate with the site of El Peru. See the associated webpage at http://www.anthro.appstate.edu/ebooks/gender/ch06.html.

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concerns. She appears in the Dresden Codex as a young woman,

Ixchel, with an elaborately decorated skirt and in the Madrid Codex

as an old woman, Xaqchel or Saqchel, occupied at her loom.9 Here

is verification of the import that weaving had on society in

general to have direct ties to the gods, and further proof of the

value of women’s work in Mayan society; women connected the heavens

and the earth by using natural elements to create symbolic works of

utilitarian mastery modeled after the goddess.

So, at the close of the 15th century, prior to the arrival of

the Spaniards into what is now Southern Mexico, Yucatán Peninsula,

and the interior of Central America, the Empire of the Maya had

long since been dismantled. The Maya peoples had dispersed into

smaller kingdoms, clans and kinship groups and, especially in the

highlands, scattered amongst craggy peaks and lush valleys and

divided by language and local identity. The commonality amongst

these distinct groups, however, was in the maintenance of

particular traditions and the guarding of similar elements of

material culture. Though, certainly, elevation and cold factored

9 Both the young Ixchel and the old Saqchel weaver woman images are available onthe California State Los Angeles site at http://instructional1.calstatela.edu/bevans/Art446-04-IntroMayan/WebPage-Thumb.00002.html.

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into the choice of attire for a Maya man or woman and delineated

someone from the highlands of 6000+ foot elevation from a lowland

person at sea level in a tropical and/or rainforest environment,

the similarity of method of textile production, function, and

habiliment were the same. Women wove, not men. Women used

backstrap or stick looms to weave using locally grown cotton,

agave, or pita fiber and adorned with local feathers, fur and

metals, and dyed with natural plant, insect, or mollusk shell dyes.

The cloth was usually draped or tied, not sewn, and did not encase

the body, but merely covered it. The cloth itself had four “web

edges” or “selvages” so there really was not a need for fitting or

cutting. But, the cloth itself was limited by the arm span of the

woman herself with most fabric not exceeding one yard in width and

limited by weight and stability to no more than five yards in

length.10 Now, enter the Iberians.

Part II—Conquest

In 1524, a close companion and fellow conquistador to Hernán

Cortés, named Pedro de Alvarado, left Mexico on a quest to find

more riches and glory in the Maya kingdoms to the south. Owing

10 Pancake, 6-7.

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partly to a previous epidemic of smallpox spreading through the

population along established trade routes between the Aztec and

Maya-controlled areas, to in-fighting and warfare amongst the major

highland Maya kingdoms, to a huge divide in weaponry and military

technology between the Spanish and Native American groups, but also

due to surprise, the conquest of the highland Maya was completed in

a matter of several years. Soon after crushing the remaining

kingdoms of Los Altos by playing various groups against each other,

Spanish conquistadors created the first of many capitals at the

Kaqchikel Maya city of Iximché and began their rule of

exploitation.11

These early settlers of the 16th century who survived the

initial encounters, warring, deluges, and more, introduced their

European-style wooden footlooms and male-dominated arts to the

newly claimed area, complete with the stamp of colonial power and

11 After a few short years, the capital was moved to a more appealing spot to theSpanish in a fertile valley alongside the extinct Volcán de Agua at the town nowknown as Ciudad Vieja in Guatemala. The soon-to-be Kingdom of Guatemala, with Alvarado at its head, appealed to quick settlement due to its comfortable climate and densely settled indigenous population for a coerced labor force. Ironically, there was a cataclysm where during heavy rains the crater of the volcano filled with water like a giant bowl, and the mountainside collapsed sending water, mud, and debris onto the sleeping inhabitants (killing even Alvarado’s wife, Doña Beatriz). The capital was again ordered to be moved further from the volcano to the area named Santiago de los Caballeros, now knownas La Antigua.

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dominance. What emerged over the course of the next 300 years was

the gradual yet permanent division of technological labor based not

only on racial heritage of Native American versus Iberian, but also

on gender of male versus female. While this split in the

production of textiles has been noted by both anthropologists and

historians, the addition into academic writings has more often than

not been to add color to their publications. Rather than simply

document the presence of dual modes of production and their

corresponding hands at work, more emphasis should be given to

focusing on the convergence of the person with the product as a

window into a unique view of a society in development. After

conquest, there could no longer be simply a “New World” of

indigenous peoples and producers of locally made cloths for

domestic consumption or religious utilization. Neither was there

an “Old World” of Iberian-made woolens and tapestries static and

separate in the Kingdom of Guatemala; instead, a syncretism of

sorts emerged as demands were made for tribute payments in cloth

and to this mixture were added the importation of luxuries produced

in Asia as well as northern Europe.12

12 Ruth Morrissey is a great resource for the early conquest period and tribute cloth.

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Part III—Early Colonial Period

To be a true to the traditions of the master Spanish weavers,

one had to sit at the loom with the latest technology of pulleys

and peddles. Where would the Maya men, the primary labor force in

the colonial period, or the soon-to-be products of miscegenation

both physically and culturally, fit into this work equation? If

weaving had existed solely associated with female labor, how could

Maya and Latinized men become weavers? There exists much

documentation to support that there were early obrajes, or

rudimentary organizations of factory labor to produce textiles in

colonial Mesoamerica. There is evidence to support the creation of

weaving guilds and the domination of commercialized fabric

production by men in urban areas that was to be sent to the cattle

ranches and mining camps of Nicaragua, the indigo plantations of El

Salvador, and for general use by laborers and servants in and

around the Kingdom of Guatemala. How could men produce these goods

without emasculating themselves?

Ultimately, Maya men would reject stick-looms along with the

spinning of cotton as “feminine”, restricting cotton usage to foot-

loomed utilitarian plain manta, or generic commercially produce

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yardage. These men psychologically could justify their entrance

into the world of loom technology by: first, suggesting footlooms

were foreign in origin and associated with the conquering peoples;

second, by being seated in a chair, stool, or on a bench, men were

physically raised off the ground; third, they focused on

utilitarian plain cotton yardage that was cut off the frame rather

than smaller selvedged handloom pieces. Men also adapted to the

introduction of sheep and the foreign use of woolens in clothing by

becoming the exclusive weavers and occasional spinners of wool,

though women might card and spin.13 There is some argument as to

just when the identity develops of Ladino, the creation of a new

ethnic identity of racially Maya in heritage, though culturally

hispanicized. Ruth Morrissey argues, somewhat unsuccessfully, that

the simple association of men who worked European footlooms and

with cotton textiles caused them to be “no longer identified with

Indian culture.”14

Why were women not the recipients of this new knowledge and

technology of Spanish treadleloom weaving? One suggestion is that

13 Pancake, 9.14 Ruth Claud Morrissey, “Continuity and Change in Backstrap Loom Textiles of Highland Guatemala,” 120.

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Europeans were accustomed to men weaving and it made sense to

continue that tradition. 15 Women, on the other hand, were

physically lowered by sitting or kneeling at ground level to weave,

evidence of their lowered social status. Women also retained the

traditions of cotton textile production for home, not commercial

use, with elaborate pattern and symbolism designating language-

specific and town-specific information as well as religious and

cultural beliefs. Their goods, however beautiful, and their looms,

however portable and adaptable to changes in tension and

manipulation of design, could not compete with the requirements of

extra yardage for Spanish clothing styles or the speed with which a

footloom could accomplish that goal. A Maya woman, depending on

the size and the intricacy of her weave, could take anywhere from

one to three months to complete a single shirt or carrying.16

There was also the mistaken notion that the simplicity of the stick

loom itself indicated simplicity of the finished product.

Not all women were weavers, however. Not only did the elite

as well as Ladinos normally purchase their cloth and clothing, but

there also existed a small, but distinct population of African

15 Pancake, 12.16 Pancake, 11.

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slaves in the early capitals of the Kingdom of Guatemala who worked

as household servants, tavern waitresses, shop clerks, and general

laborers.17 Either their employers had to purchase clothing for

them, or they had to buy it themselves. With the sense of luxury

associated with the lovely imports of French lace, British

Manchester textiles (largely contraband), Chinese silks, and the

cost and time needed to produce locally-made fabrics, it is of no

surprise that theft of cloth and clothing was a regular activity

conducted by both women and men. Much of what can be learned about

the underclass in colonial society, especially women of color,

emerges from the first person testimonies of the court cases of

petty theft. The archival holdings of the Archivo General de

Centroamérica (AGCA) are extensive and there are some valuable

resources from the 18th century with remnants of cloth sewn into

the document bundles, along with manufacturing import stamps,

waybills, transport receipts to local fairs and taxes paid.18 All

of these, to date, have been underutilized by historians of the

colonial period.

17 Socolow, The Women of Colonial Latin America, 140.18 See my dissertation “A History of Highland Guatemalan Textiles: Lost Opportunities and Colonial Legacies, 1780-1820,” Texas Christian University, 2005.

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What is heavily documented and supportive of the importance of

textiles in colonial society and their production and usage by the

entire breadth of society is in regard to contraband and forced

labor practices. Murdo MacLeod provides extensive coverage about

contraband trade coming out of the Caribbean and flowing through

ports on the Central American coastline. Spanish forces could not

keep up with the demand for the goods and their inadequate

fortresses and military might could not plug all of the holes in

the dam from Belize to Honduras, while merchants loaded with

contraband textiles found their way into the capital city of the

Kingdom and to other areas in the highlands. In discussions of

forced labor, there was a form of coercion that related to textiles

called repartimiento de mercancías. Essentially indigenous women could

find themselves the unlucky recipients of hanks of raw fiber to

spin or with demands from Spanish administrators for certain

amounts of cloth to be woven. Oftentimes the weight of the fiber

was short and the women were forced to purchase more in order to

meet the length requirements final product. Occasionally they were

not paid or paid insufficiently for their time invested. This

practice continued through the end of the colonial period, even

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though prohibited by the Crown as excessive; whole towns, through

the corresponding male leadership, protested the excessive burden

placed on their women.

Part V—Middle Period

By the time of the separation of the Latin American mainland

from Spanish control in the 1820s, what had emerged was the

distinction of women’s textile production being relegated to the

marginality of the stick loom. Male Maya production of woolen

pieces was exclusively for indigenous men’s usage, and Ladino

footloom production created rough cotton pieces of inferior quality

for the lower classes and workers in society. Those of primarily

or “pure” Iberian heritage continued their guild memberships

copying European styles, and the wealthiest in society contributed

heavily to the importation of expensive goods. The inventories of

the storehouses, pawnshops, and wills of the wealthy abound in

luxury fabrics and clothing.19

19 Richmond Brown, “Profits, Prestige, and Persistence: Juan Fermín de Aycinena and the Spirit of Enterprise in the Kingdom of Guatemala,” HAHR, 417. “The tradegoods counted in the 1768 inventory reveal the great majority of the goods Juan Fermín [de Aycinena] imported were textiles: Italian velvets, taffeta from France and Spain, fine linen from Brittany, English flannel and serge, Chinese silks, damasks from China and Valencia, Belgian lace, cottons from Rouen, India,and China, and cheesecloth. The Aycinena store stocked luxury items, essentials, and articles for everyday use. It supplied thread, buttons, twine, ribbons, braids, tapestries, and chintz…petticoats…floorcloth, bedspreads,

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The late 19th and through the early 20th century can be

classified as a time of “progress” and “modernization.” Indigenous

peoples retained both types of loom technology split along gender

lines. Ladinos moved into purchasing sewing machines and working

with mass-produced fabrics, and with those of the upper classes

leaving textile production altogether except as consumers of

imported goods. Much of the written history of the national period

comes in the form of political unrest, change, rebellion, and

factionalism. In the course of a few decades, Central America was

first part of the Mexican Empire, then the separate and independent

United Provinces of Central America, and ultimately split into

separate nations. Chiapas, which had been part of the Kingdom of

Guatemala, chose to attach itself to México, though its climate,

geography, and the culture of its people are much more akin to that

of Guatemala than México.

With the opening of the ports and trade of the coastline of

Central America to the formerly barred and banned nations of

northern Europe, there was a great influx of trade goods,

merchants, explorers, missionaries, and diplomats particularly from

huipiles…blankets…”

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England and France, with Germany soon to follow with a boom in

coffee production. North Americans also came looking for adventure

and commercial activity. Much of what can be gleaned about textile

production in the mid-to-late 19th century comes in the form of

travel writings for foreigners present in the region. Some

recorded information as a diary, others for investors or government

officials at home, and still more for eventual publication.

William T. Brigham, of the United States, in the course of his

travels in the highlands, peaked into peoples’ homes and happened

upon a weaver in his home.20 What Brigham witnessed was a

continuation of a colonial tradition; the loom described was a draw

loom that the Spanish had adopted from the Chinese in their Asian

trading in colonial times.21 In a K’iché area, Brigham also took

note, in very flattering tones, of stick loom production that

successfully functioned as well.22 Usually the travelers were 20 See William T. Brigham, Guatemala: The Land of the Quetzal, 139. “The loom had two harnesses worked by the foot of the weaver, and twelve more pulled by a boy at the side; the bobbins were wound on bits of small bamboo. It was a long way back in the series of the evolution of a modern carpet-loom, and yet it did its work exceedingly well, if slowly…”21 Pancake, 12.22 Brigham, 252. “In textile work they were advanced, obtaining results with their rude hand-looms that even to-day would hold their own against the machine-made fabrics of the present day for durability and aptness of design…their shawls or blankets are often works of art…and without pattern before her she traced figures resembling those in the old manuscripts, though mingled with verymodern-looking pictures.” Also of use is my M.A. Thesis from Tulane University,

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interested in recording the exotic of the region, paying much more

careful attention to indigenous costume and the unusual, rather

than footloom pieces or Westernized wear of the elite of Central

America, unless to criticize for the lack of current mode of

fashion. For that reason, Brigham’s account is particularly

important and the contrast he provides from the 1880s. The

photography of those such as Eadweard Muybridge is equally valuable

in documenting change.23 However posed the images, the photos shed

light on a subject largely ignored by local historians and record-

keepers of the day. By the late 1800s, textile manufacturing in

Central America had contracted back to cottage industry as

consumers, however much they would have preferred to support

locally made goods, could not ignore the inexpensive British

imports flooding their nations.24

1997, dealing specifically with 19th century travel account literature and imagesof the other in highland Guatemala. Helen Sanborn, Anne Cary Maudslay, and manyothers are fantastic sources of detailed information of textile design and use in the 19th century as is Lily de Jongh Osborne, Matilda Geddings Grey, and others for the early 20th century.23 Muybridge’s photos are well represented in revised travel texts such as that of Helen Sanborn, as well as by anthropologists like Anne Pollard Rowe for a comparison of the then and now. They are even used by historians such as R. Williams for evidence of coffee production in the 19th century. Most of the photographs are owned by Harvard University.24 David McCreery, in his By the Sweat of Their Brow: A History of Work in Latin America, on page 100 supports this statement also emphasizing that by taking away locally produced textiles it reduced “one of women’s key roles in the family” and ultimately “contributed their marginalization.” The import of British and other

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Part VII—Modern Era

More recently, Maya peoples are adapting to a globalized

marketplace and have begun to increasingly attach themselves to the

Westernized ideas of Fair Trade, participating in weaving

cooperatives, and even being part of catchy websites designed to

attract attention to their “traditional” textiles, though the sites

are usually created by North Americans or Europeans and not

themselves. With this increase in awareness of a global market,

there has been a loss of sorts in that cottons are more frequently

being replaced by acrylics. To the credit of the Mayan weavers,

acrylic is considered warming like “wool,” but not being as

difficult to clean, itchy, or expensive. Plus, it holds its colors

much more easily and can retain a vibrancy in tone that the wool or

cotton cannot manage. Other examples of Mayan adaptability come in

the shifting of pattern. Perhaps one reason for the continued

survival of pre-Hispanic types of textiles is precisely because of

the adaptability of the weavers; thus, it should not surprise

world manufacturers into Latin America and the collapse of local industry is also heavily discussed by R. L. Woodward, Jr. in numerous publications and MilesWortman in his Government and Society in Central America, 1680-1840.

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academics to find modern pieces being increasingly modified to

cater to a new tourist market.

Eminent Central American historian, Ralph Lee Woodward, Jr.

one remarked to me that his wife, the late Sue McGrady Woodward,

had brought a cross stitch coffee table book to Guatemala in the

1960s. Not long after, the Woodwards returned to Guatemala to find

examples of fruit baskets and bucolic scenes of birds and trees

copied into the dress of the women in the highlands. How ironic

that those designs, which are very intricate and wonderfully

executed, are now considered after 40+ years to be the costume of

San Antonio Aguas Calientes, having replaced the traditional shirts

of geometric patterning laden with symbolism of the countryside and

farming. Yet, this knowledge of change is commonly forgotten and

the tourists greatly desire these reverse-weave designs as some of

the best examples (and most expensive) of traditional Mayan

overshirts.

In the 1970s, anthropologists began to document the popularity

of the “peasant” style in the Western world, increasing interest

and purchase of Mayan handicrafts. From belts, to bags, to shirts,

and blankets, Western consumers could not get enough of the

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“primitive” items from the region. Anne Lambert wrote, “In the

Spring of 1976 one could go into almost any clothing store in North

America or Europe, or look in almost any fashion magazine or mail

order catalogue, and find garments which were Guatemalan, adapted

from Guatemalan garments, or influenced by Guatemalan design.”25

For Lambert, one unfortunate result of this desire for the goods

was a decrease of backstrap-loom pieces in favor of more footloom-

produced goods of standardized quality and design. The implication

was that women’s weaving would ultimately be further devalued.26

Tracy Bachrach Ehlers learned of a group in San Antonio that

purposely wanted to weave items for tourists, specifically to sell

placemats and belts to consumers in New York, yet the women did not

know how to use the donated footloom from the local Catholic

Church.27 The Church sisters taught sewing on machines and both

men and women learned to use the footlooms and they developed a

strong marketing campaign called “Hilos del Lago” under the helm of

an U.S. Peace Corps activist.28 While the group managed to do

25 Anne M. Lambert, “Textile Transposal: Guatemala in Interchange with Outside Markets,” 146.26 Lambert, 148.27 Tracy Bachrach Ehlers, “Belts, Business and Bloomindale’s: An Alternative Model for Guatemalan Artisan Development,” 186.28 Ehlers, 182,187.

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quite well and the members increased their general standard of

living, Ehlers states that the women “have abandoned the

traditional red blouse” and that some “99 percent of the men in the

town” no longer wear their woolen kilt.29

The 1980s were a particularly dark time in Latin America.

Guatemala experienced what has been termed the “Harvest of

Violence” or simply la violencia with increasingly brutal

dictatorships at the helm of political power. With the Guatemalan

government being unable to distinguish a Maya peasant from a

Communist guerrilla, the military simply ordered scorched earth

campaigns designed to eliminate all potential threats. Others were

relocated by the government into carefully controlled newly created

settlements. Many, including church leaders and foreign scholars,

were assassinated and whole villages suffered mass executions.

Hundreds of thousands of people moved across the northern border,

only to find southern México was not a friendly place to be.

Difficulties had been building in the form of a major rebellion by

what would be called the Zapatista army in Chiapas, Mexico. Life

29 Ibid., 192.

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had become too hard for subsistence farmers and southern Mexico was

by far the poorest and least developed of the Mexican states.

The United Nations ultimately stepped in with peacekeeping

forces and promoted an end decades of war in 1996. Again it became

safe to travel to and within Guatemala. Chiapas, though, still has

numerous military checkpoints even today. In the 1990s with

renewed tourism and rebirth of lost connections with foreign

scholars and church and nonprofit activists, Guatemalan weavers

again adapted to the newly expanding market. Anthropologist Carol

Hendrickson surveyed hundreds of U.S. mail order catalogs targeting

advertisements for Maya textiles for sale. She found that major

U.S. labels like L.L. Bean, Victoria’s Secret, and even non-profits

such as Oxfam, all were in the craze for handicrafts.30 Since the

1990s weaving cooperatives, schools for weaving instruction, and

shops of artisanías have increased in number in major tourist

centers. Greater opportunities in education, possibilities for

transportation, and slightly more economic security has caused a

blurring of national identity in textile consumption. Fewer and

fewer men can be distinguished as either ladino or indígena, because

30 See Carol Hendrickson, “Selling Guatemala: Maya export products in US mail-order catalogues.”

24

of lack of use of traditional costuming and increased

bilingualization.31 Fewer and fewer Maya women can be associated

with their town of origin or their language group given a sort of

Maya “generic” in skirt and shirt production. Mass produced skirts

on the treadle loom and western fabrics “cut” in the Maya style are

more cost effective, if having a shorter life-span handwashed on

the pila stone. There is still, most certainly, agreement by Maya

women that the traditional shirt and skirt are more beautiful and

longer-lasting, but symbolism and tradition are falling behind

economic necessity, creating the possibility for multiple changes

of outfits, and fewer and fewer women learning to weave for

themselves; instead they can hire out someone to weave something

special for them or buy a generic in the market.

Part VIII—Conclusions

Many scholars will agree that the greatest and longest lasting

changes in weaving technology in the former Maya kingdoms occurred

31 Rowe discussed this topic on page 17 with, “The modern Guatemalan man’s costume follows the general European tradition of shirt and pants plus various types of accessories, but there is considerable variation from one village to another in the degree of acculturation. In some villages the Indian male costume is indistinguishable from that of the Ladinos and no vestige of native tradition remains. In others, the cloth is commercially produced, but cut and sewn in an archaic style that is distinct from modern clothing, but is not really native either.”

25

at the introduction of the Spanish footloom, closely followed by

the introduction of sheep and the spinning wheel.32 It is also

generally accepted by historians and anthropologists alike that

there is an obvious and permanent split along lines of gender and

race from the colonial period through the present time regarding

method of production and choice of fiber and utilitarian output,

however much that has begun to blur since the 1990s.33 Beyond

that, there should be greater use of interdisciplinary sources

pioneered by archeologists, anthropologists, and historical

geographers by those in the History profession.34 The application

of ethnographic and ethnohistorical sources and interpretations to

the traditional historical narrative would produce a much richer

32 This is supported by Pancake, Rowe, Morrissey, and by the now antiquated worksof Sol Tax and the 1930s-1940s researchers in anthropology and archaeology in Mesoamerica.33 Pancake states on page 12, “To this day, with few exceptions it is the male who operates a treadle loom, and the female who weaves with the traditional stick loom.” Morrissey on page 140 states, “The division of labor in productionof commercial textiles seems to have assigned men to weaving with treadle looms and women to spinning, embroidery, and weaving with backstrap looms.” Rowe agrees on page 16, “While the backstrap loom is most often employed by women whouse it primarily to weave clothes for their families and who limit themselves tocotton almost exclusively, the treadle loom is used by men to produce both wool and cotton fabric commercially.”34 W. George Lovell, in particular, has greatly advanced my own knowledge of the history of Guatemala with his influential classic Conquest and Survival in Colonial Guatemala : A Historical Geography of the Cuchumatan Highlands, 1500-1821.

26

and fuller picture of long term change in Central American social

and economic history.

Historians of Mexico, the core areas of the Andes and even

Bolivia, all areas of high concentrations of peoples of Spanish as

well as indigenous descent, have produced fine works for both the

colonial and national periods related to: indigenous contributions

to national economies, textiles as cottage industry, the shift to

proto-industrialization, and ultimately to modern forms of

production, as well as research and publications on material

culture, gender, and occupation. Historians of Central America

have somehow lagged far behind in this trend. The tendency has

been to leave the disparate Maya groups to other disciplines and

mention of them has been as a mass of unskilled and coerced labor,

except in extraordinary and sensational court case testimony.35

The emphasis here is to re-examine the traditional mindset of the

Maya existing as a nation within the larger nations, somehow there,

yet still somehow apart. While this may hold true for political

power, the Maya, as demonstrated here, have been fully integrated

into the domestic economies of their larger regions, whether

35 Rene Reeves and Greg Grandin are obvious exceptions to this statement.

27

southern Mexico or in Central America, since the time of first

contact. Even now, that integration is only more fully cemented as

the Maya-speaking men and women are connected to the globalized

world through the international and internet sales of their

handicrafts and working sometimes alongside their ladino

counterparts. The culmination of all of the years under discussion

indicates that Central Americans, like their textiles, are very

complex in origin and development. A combination of threads of

Mediterranean and North African traditions mixed with Mayan

elements, has resulted in a national heritage that continues to

enthrall locals and foreigners alike.

28

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