

TELLING THINGS  
AS THEY HAPPENED

Evangelina Corona Cadena

Documentación y Estudios de Mujeres, A.C.

First Spanish edition, August 2007  
First English edition, August 2016

© Copyright English edition, Mexico, 2016, by  
Documentación y Estudios de Mujeres, A. C.  
José de Teresa No. 253 Col. Campestre,  
Tlacopac 01040 México, D. F.

Tel. 5663 3745 Fax 5662 5208

Printed in Mexico

ISBN 9781370970858

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the publisher.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Introduction

Foreword

I. Recalling my elders

II. Peasant childhood

III. Portrait of a young maid

IV. A family of women

V. A house of my own

VI. The seaming profession

VII. The 1985 earthquake: A before and an after

VIII. The September 19 national union of the sewing, dress garment, similar and related workers

IX. Learning a truly Christian life

X. Ecclesiastical incongruity

XI. The shadowy areas of politics

XII. Back to work

XIII. The nursery: The apple of my eye

XIV. The great paradox

XV. Closing words

XVI. Chronology of Evangelina Corona

Four "Crazy thoughts"

INTRODUCTION

You are a special women  
You came to be important  
You have been friend of all of us  
You don't deny anyone your support  
You have been generous until today  
You already chose this path  
Achieving many improvements  
Ignoring your destiny  
You were born in a poor crib  
But you have become a leader.

A very rocky road  
You have traveled  
Laughing at everyone  
You have lived neglecting yourself  
Expecting nothing  
A white soul you have had.

You comb grey hair  
To fight you have learned  
Giving all the years you still have of life

This organization you have defended  
This organization you have defended  
Nothing in exchange you have asked  
Support and love to all you have offered.

Congratulations on your birthday

I want to express my most  
extensive and sincere  
appreciation to Patricia Vega  
for her toilsome work  
in rescuing my memoirs.

Evangelina Corona Cadena

FOREWORD

My name is Evangelina Corona Cadena and I just turned sixty-eight years old. In fact, never before I had felt such an interest in recounting my life because I think that we are not used to read the experiences of others; what we do is to read life itself, every day, just while dawn is given to us.

Nonetheless, Rosendo Sánchez, a teammate who was also a member of the September 19 Seamstresses Union, constantly phones me to ask me that I write my memoirs.

—Look partner, you just cannot let all your experience to get lost. You must tell it so others know that things can be done—he insists and he insists before me.

—What for? I haven't done anything special. Who can be interested in someone unknown who's just one more in the world and has nothing outstanding, except that she simply went through a radical change in her daily life?—I always answer him.

—No, partner. You must accept the fact that you were recognized by the people, that the citizenship acknowledged that you did positive things. Accordingly, that's what can be useful to other persons—he contradicts me.

—But I'm not a lady, and the truth, I don't know how to write! —and end of the discussion.

I am pleased and honored that the DEMAC companions are certain that my experiences can be useful for society and for the generations to come. Thus, from an invitation and the decision to facilitate this process, there was no longer any objection on my part to express, recount or share what I have lived.

Without having them planned, these stories have emerged of the everyday life in which I have lived. However, I think that experience provides you with things that you cannot convey because you have no words to express what you live.

More than successes, what I have had are abrupt changes in my life, changes I never expected. I never imagined that I would be the Leader of the Seamstresses Labor Union, I never thought to be part of the Chamber of Deputies, I never set myself as a goal to be part of the Council of Elders of my church, nor I dreamed of visiting other countries or competing for a mayor's office.

The problem I have is that I cannot write (I studied until the third grade of primary school) or well, rather, I don't know how to keep the track of what has been written. If, for instance, I write what I'm going to say, the very moment I'm giving the speech, preaching or speaking in public, I depart from what appears on the page, and then I have to find a way to continue, but only with my own feeling, not with what is written. Somehow, what is happening this day becomes the framework that I use to shape my speech, both at a social and political level, but also at a religious level. That's why I never write. If anything, a few brief notes. This is why I had refused to write my testimony. Nonetheless, taking the experiences off the drawer in which they were put away and share them today has been a kind of very beneficial therapy.

However, before going into details I want to say that I am part of a family of eight siblings and that the religious aspect is what has kept us together. We gather in different places, but we all profess the Evangelical faith, the Christian faith, and we all assume the religious commitment whatever the place where we are living.

Therefore, I think that we must wake up with joy and with our eyes raised to heaven to see the wonders that God allows us to see. And if we have problems from time to time, we should cry when we have them. And if we have pain, then we have to heal ourselves. But we must never let us feel out of sorts. We must overcome everything. Every moment brings its own advice; every moment brings its own inspiration; every moment brings its flavor, be it pleasant or unpleasant.

RECALLING MY ELDERS

To begin, I might say that I am a countrywoman. I come from the State of Tlaxcala. I was born in San Antonio Cuaxomulco in 1938. My parents were peasants: he was Donaciano Corona Cervantes and my mom's name was Felicitas Cadena Cadena. And, as I said, we are eight siblings, five women and three men, all with the Corona Cadena family names and biblical given names: Jahaziel, Efraim, Bithynia, Eliezer, Eliacim, and then my twin sister Noema and I, Evangelina, and finally, Nehemiah. There were other two little children who died.

San Antonio Cuaxomulco was a very small peasant village; at that time there was no electricity nor the buses entered; it was like a small ranch with houses scattered, one over here and one over there. Logically, now it has expanded a little, but anyway it still remains a province. I don't throw away the fact that the village has outdone itself a lot since it became a municipality, and since there were more schools; but up to what I knew, there were only a primary and a secondary schools.

However, due to the difficult economic situation that my parents lived, unfortunately at the village almost all the siblings could just study until the third grade of primary. Some were able to half study a little more, but it was on their own account, here, in Mexico City.

An encounter in Mexico City

As I've said, my father's name was Donaciano Corona Cervantes and my mother's Felicitas Cadena Cadena. My father was born in the State of Tlaxcala and my mother in the State of Hidalgo. But they met each other in Mexico City, because such is destiny, and they got married in 1922. And when they went back to the village, around 1928, they already carried a girl, my oldest sister: Jahaziel.

I can't say I saw it because I was not yet born, but my dad told us that he left the countryside to work as a bricklayer in Mexico City. He used to tell us that he had the chance to build the National Palace corner which overlooks the street of Moneda. He also worked at the Nonoalco-Tlatelolco Bridge and some other constructions in the Federal District.

I think that the natural survival spirit that all humans have drove him to defend his coworkers and that caused him problems with the contractors at the time and, as they started to plot against him, he decided to return to Tlaxcala, to the countryside.

My father used to tell us that in several occasions they asked him:

—And you, why do you have to defend those workers?

As my dad was very punctual and responsible at work, the engineers held him in high esteem and used to name him boss of the other construction workers. But the contractors did not like that he defended all the workers; they told him to think only about himself, and thus he began to have problems. That fostered my father's decision to go back to the village.

The religious harassment

In 1928, when they arrived at the village, my dad and my mom already had adopted another religious ideology: they were Methodists. On the other hand, at the village everybody was Catholic, including my grandparents. Therefore, they began to have serious, serious problems, which caused an increase in my family's poverty because my dad used to go work at one place and three days later they didn't let him enter there because he had already been improperly recommended: he was one of the heretics, the devils in person. That was very prejudicial to him and it impoverished even more the family. A judgement had been passed in advance: the parish priest himself encouraged the families to finish them off, to kill them off, because "those heretics" could not live in the village and there were even several attempts to kill him.

On the other hand, we had to go down to the river to wash the clothes. If my mom started to wash up-the-river, the next day that place was already occupied and she had to look for another place down-the-river. The rationale was to annoy, to offend, to make their life impossible.

They had a tough time in that respect. However, it was another example that we, as their children, were able to learn: to keep firmly the beliefs and endure all things. My parents never bent under threats or pressures.

An unexpected blessing

In the village we lived on an undersized budget. Certainly, my father used to work the land, but, even if he worked on his plots the whole day, the countryside is rain-fed land and while there was no rain he couldn't sow. But he was always working the land here and there, picking up stones over there, damming so that, in due time, rainwater didn't wash away the soil.

My mom was the one who provided the money, because she worked now selling pulque, now selling sweets, now selling soap, things that people could buy. Or she walked to another village to swap her things for seeds, beans, corn or whatever she could get, even chickens or eggs, the matter was to bring something to eat at home. I can almost say that she was the one who supported the house.

On the other hand, God gave my mom the vision, the gift to take care for more than 30 years of women expecting babies and women in labor: she prepared them since the first months and she moved the babies to their normal position when there were problems. Once again I reiterate that "thank God" because in all those years of working as a midwife, neither a child nor a mother died under her care, something that I consider almost a miracle because she did not even went to school. How did she learn? Who knows! She had the gift of touch and she could feel if a baby was incorrectly or correctly positioned. Besides, she knew to rub the children when they suffered from indigestion, and if a child fell she could treat his little head. In other words, she had something that none of her eight children have been able to have: that wonder of taking care of women in labor without having the least knowledge. How did she learn to cut the navel? How did she learn to see the placenta came out complete? Only "the one above", God, can answer those questions.

My mom also injected very well and everyone looked for her because the kids didn't cry when she injected them. She always began with a joke; there was a small poem she used to sing them:

Ay, ya-ya-yai!  
Here the wizard went by  
with its bedroll wings  
and its sack tail.

And when she said costal, bang! She gave the shot! Just like that, among jokes. There were days when she was required from morning until night. People came looking for her help at any time. She never turned to excuses: she never said "I'm tired", "I'm sleepy". Although she was about to give birth herself, she continued to attend to women in labor, she continued to give shots at any time, night or day.

She also knew embroidering, weaving and she made lovely openwork stitching handcrafts, although no one ever taught her. How did she learn? We never knew. She also learned to read and write all by herself. She told us that she used to steal the letters my grandfather wrote to my grandmother, and then she started to rewrite them, copying all the words that appeared in the letter without knowing their meaning. She just did the exercise, calligraphy, so to say. Later, she bought one of those spelling books in use at the time and someone began to teach her more or less; afterwards, she learned to read by reading the Bible. Every Sunday she went to the temple, to the Sunday school, where she learned to read.

The miracle of the lime kiln

I insist that my parents had a very difficult existence in the village, although there was an event that can be considered miraculous. It happened to my dad who, besides farming, also made some money calcining lime stone.

In the highland, he owned a kiln and he had fix it to calcine that stone. According to what my dad told us (this is another thing that I didn't witness personally), the kiln was near a ravine and one its walls was part of ravine's wall. And in front of the kiln my dad had made a cave from where he could be attentive to nurture the fire so that the stone kept calcining.

My dad told us that he was lying in the cave and had just stocked the kiln with firewood when, just a little while after, he heard a noise. He went to see what it was and he discovered that the grate had broken, that the kiln had collapsed and had smothered. He told us that he started shedding tears because that was his only hope for earning some money: he was about to finish the last stone calcining when the kiln collapsed.

Then my dad came out of his cave and returned home; he met my mom and told her:

—Just my luck! The kiln collapsed so I came back. What's the purpose of staying there?

As soon as it dawned, they both went very early to see how the kiln had collapsed and they found tracks of people on horse and people on foot who had been searching for him. My parents saw those evidences and came back home to keep lamenting the fact that the kiln had collapsed and a whole load of lime had been lost.

Later, my dad came across a neighbor who told him:

—Hey, we didn't know that you were a warlock.

—Why do you say that?

—Because yesterday people went searching for you to throw you into your own oven.

How would things be? Why the kiln collapsed? Why it put out alone? That was for us like a miracle. My dad escaped by a miracle of being burned alive.

The priest's daughter

But what caused a change in the attitude of the village towards my parents was another similar act. Precisely, my dad had gone to the kiln, but he was just rebuilding it. When he left, he told my mom:

—Lock yourself, I'll come later, but you lock yourself carefully.

It was a January 17. My dad left and my mom stayed in the shack where they were living, and she left the door open and she began to sing, because she loved to sing and she sang a lot despite the experiences she was going through, and out of the blue appeared two women, one more or less adult and a young girl sixteen years old more or less. My mother told us that the older woman said to her:

—Goodnight ma'am. Listen, don't be bad. You see, we came to the village saint's day but we got lost and we no longer know how to return to our village,—and she added—, and I came to see if you can direct me so I can find my way home.

Our village was San Antonio Cuaxomulco and those women came from another village called San Salvador Tzompantepec. Then my mom told them:

—Yes, but the problem is that it's already dark.

— Moreover, I feel that I've been followed and the truth is that I am afraid,—added the woman.

And my mom looked out and heard some whistling somewhere near. And then my mom said:

—Look, ma'am, you'd better wait for my husband to come back so that he accompanies you and shows you the way, because now it's already dark. You'd better stay here.

—It's just that if I stay here the priest is going to get very angry because he left me in the care of someone.

But that 'someone' had gone to have some drinks and had left the woman and the girl by themselves, that's why they were lost. Then my mother told her:

—All the more reason. You'd better wait for my husband and tomorrow very early he'll show you your way.

And so, my mother convinced her and they stayed there, in the kitchen, talking. Sometime later, when my dad arrived, he was surprised to find that there were two unknown women at home. He used to tell us that, when he was arriving home, he was puzzled to hear voices, rumors, somewhere around, in the dark. And then he said to the woman:

—Look, ma'am, as my wife already told you, I also think that we cannot go out just now because there's danger. Someone is transmitting signals out there. You'd better stay here and I'll show you the way very early in the morning.

And the woman stayed. The next day my dad got up and led the woman with her little girl and, to everyone's surprise, it turned out that the teenager was the priest's daughter. And they told my dad how things had happened and my dad told her that, in fact, he had heard that danger, and for that reason he had not accompany them at night nor had he let them leave.

Then the priest reacted and began to remove from the people's mind the idea that they had to eliminate my parents. That incident brought about a slight change in my family's situation.

In the villages, they see the priest as a saint, as God's representative. And although the priest abuses women, they don't feel raped; rather, they think: "How wonderful having a child of the saint!" It's an entirely different mentality. And when the woman told my parents her situation, she didn't say it with shame, but rather as if it was a blessing that the priest had fathered her daughter.

Trustworthy persons

Later on, due to their personal example and the life they led, and thanks to their persistence and withstand all the hell people gave them, after a long time my parents were finally accepted in the village.

In her responsibility and zeal to get ahead in her job as a midwife, my mom always spoke on behalf of God and she placed the results of what she did in the Lord's hands. And that started to stay put in the minds of the persons who, somehow, had this very close relationship with my mom. And, as I said earlier, she was very cheerful, she always sang, but mostly she sang the praises and the brief choruses that are traditionally sung in the temple, and that encouraged people.

And little by little they saw in her something else: she was not anymore just the woman who was going to inject them to heal them, but rather a person in whom they could pin their trust, their sorrows and their ailments. We might say that, all of a sudden, they saw her as their "love doctor" and they started revealing her their secrets. The attitude of the village changed to such a point that my mom ended up giving advices to women. And my mom was very reserved regarding her conversations with people, because she felt committed with those who were trusting her and thus she was always very careful. All this made that after some time several persons showed interest in changing of religion.

And with regard to my dad, the priest himself changed his stance after learning that my dad had protected his woman and his daughter; not only he ceased stressing that it was necessary to eliminate them, but there were occasions in which he invited him to social events in which the priest himself participated and he even introduced him verbally. And his personal situation started to change gradually. When my dad was elected mayor, they recognized that his stand remained firm and that he was respectful and he did a lot in favor of the village. Then they realized that he was not an enemy, but rather a person who had assumed a responsibility as a Christian, and that they could trust him. Of course, neither everyone saw him badly, nor everyone saw him well; and there was also those who began scheming against him.

The death of my dad and my mom

When my dad died I was already a grown up, some 24 years old, and Mahelí, my eldest daughter, was already born.

It is said that my father died in an accident when he fell into a ravine. We don't know it for certain and we haven't been able to confirm it, but we weren't interested in clarify it because life doesn't sprout again. We don't know if he was pushed or if he fell. What we do know is that he went out in the morning because he was going to meet some friends in the village and they got plastered drinking pulque.

Of what little we could find out about the accident was that, as in the countryside there are no restrooms, my dad squatted to relieve himself near the edge of the ravine. That's why we believe—as we cannot assert that he was pushed—that maybe he stumbled due to his pulques and he fell into the ravine. However, the odd thing is that he had his trousers already well buttoned, not unbuttoned. That makes us keep wondering if he fell over or he was pushed.

On the other hand, we were also informed that they had been him tussling in the wilderness with Cenobio Perez, a man who used to make his life miserable. But these are only "tell-tales". There's nothing we were able to confirm in this regard.

Such is the political life and its clashes. My dad was the person who managed that the village became a municipality, and in 1936 he became municipal president or mayor. And Mr. Pérez couldn't stand that because he always wanted to brag, to show everybody that he was more than my dad. Thus he began a fierce political struggle.

My dad's ideas were different: he didn't coveted anything for his own benefit; rather, his ambition was to enhance the village and therefore benefit the people living in it. During his tenure as mayor, he built bridges, the kiosk, another school, the city hall... In one word: he fixed the village. My dad became a mayor before the Institutional Revolutionary Party (PRl) was founded; but in the end that was the party that stayed in power for many years.

Why turn a blind eye to reality? I think that's one of the things that I've also learned: we must state things as they are. After all, what's the problem? Whatever happened has already passed, is already a yesterday.

We know that my dad used to drink occasionally and that he shouldn't have drunk that day. Indeed, one of the things that, as Christians, we must avoid, is to fall into those excesses. In the Protestant Church they don't tell you "do not drink wine!" but rather, "do it, but do not overdo". However, many times as humans, we let ourselves be carried away by alcohol and we don't give a damn if we leave our family without eating; but my dad was not like that. Yes, he used to drink his pulques because that was the cheapest and most common drink in the village, and sometimes, when we saw him half-dull, we knew that it was because he had been drinking and smoking. Other than that, he was an upright, hardworking, determined man, but, as every human being, he got tired and needed some leisure. So that impelled him go to the village to chat with his friends and drink some pulques. And we also believe that somehow it was the pulque that threw him into the hole.

And when my dad died, I brought my mom to live with me in Mexico City. We lived together many years when we were a very happy family. She not only helped me to look after and raise my children, but she also backed me economically, many times at my same level because, despite her old age, my mother was still working, giving injections. Once she had the idea of collecting the empty bottles of the injections that she had given that day and she counted 24.

Unfortunately, back in 1988 my mom suffered a stroke and half her body got paralyzed. She remained almost two years disabled and she died on November 29, 1991. She had just turned 87. I can say that I don't look like her at all. At most, I could say that, compared with all what she did, perhaps I am a bit of her smallest fingernail.

PEASANT CHILDHOOD

My family is of a peasant origin, so I spent the first years of my life in the country.

During my childhood, and until I was 14 years, my main activity was to help my dad in the field and my mom at home.

We helped my dad prepare the soil for sowing corn, black beans, wheat, barley, potatoes, broad beans... But the land was arid, dry, and every year the harvest became more stunted. The needs of the family kept increasing as the eight siblings we were growing.

I remember that we had to walk for half an hour to reach the school and, besides, as at home we didn't have enough resources for the expenses of all of us, when one enrolled in the school, another had to leave it, and if this one quit it, that one was enrolled, and in this fashion we all went to school in turns.

Here I stress that I just studied up to the third grade of primary school, because work itself didn't allowed us to continue studying: we had to take care of the animals, bring water from a point twenty minutes away from the house, chop and collect firewood... In short, we didn't have time left for other activities. The eight siblings we had to work all the same in the field; there were no differences: being a girl was not an excuse to stay at home.

Nowadays, children five or six years old already go to school, but before you could only enroll in school after turning nine years old. And, as time passed, we turned 13 or 14 and we couldn't continue studying because we spent almost all day working in the field.

So neither we could have much contact with our relatives. They rarely came home and we only said "good morning" and "good afternoon" when we bumped into each other; there was a detachment not due to different ways of thinking, but because the work in the field kept us busy all day long and thus we couldn't visit our relatives and they didn't visit us either.

A rustic happiness

The tasks that we did were: watch the animals and collecting grass to prepare them food. Then, we had to go and pick up the seeds according to the month of the season...

My dad used to work on Sundays, and as the temple was pretty far—in the town of Apizaco, a two hours walk—neither we used to go to church frequently, and then we stayed to work with him. And the task consisted in collecting stones, because he had built a big dyke in the ravine so that during the rainy season water didn't carry away more topsoil of the ravine.

On the field, our work started at 7:00 or 8:00 in the morning, and at noon we returned home to fulfill other activities. On Sundays, mom carried to the field a big pot of hot atole and tortillas. That's why we loved go to work.

On normal days, we helped taking care of the animals. We had oxen and donkeys. Oxen yokes were for work; at least there were six to eight animals. And we also had two or three donkeys. We also had to feed the chickens: we had to thresh corn to give them the tail of the cob. We always had to dekernel the ears of corn to obtain the kernel corn both to feed the animals and to cook it in a pot or a can to get what we called nixcornil, and with the nixtamal already cooked we went to the mill or we hand-grounded it to prepare the dough for making tortillas or pozal as appropriate.

Collect firewood or bring water from the river were also some activities that we carried out even if we were helping dad gathering the harvest in the field. Sometimes we went to help in the field, some others we performed the other activities. We took turns between all the brothers and sisters, regardless of our gender: we had to do everything evenly.

The countryside clears the mind

I always liked to go to the countryside, because it seems to clear one's mind, one seems to breathe a more pure air... I don't know. I also liked very much to take care of animals: although they were oxen, they were docile, peaceful. I remember that many times I led them to the gully to drink its water and I dragged my way down grabbing their tails, pulling myself like a train, as children do when they go sliding.

It was a very nice life, in its rural aspect, which I loved. I also learned to herd the team of oxen to tug the rake, a huge beam that is used after sowing to flatten the soil so that when the wind blows it doesn't carry away all the seed.

Aspiring to possess something

However, sometimes we wanted to have a new dress or shoes... because I started to wear shoes until I turned nine years: we used to walk barefoot no matter the cold, on earth, on grass... Over there, everywhere.

Naturally, we always wanted to possess something of our own and that prompted me to seek another environment and let me leave my house and go to work to help my parents.

At age 13, I was already grown up and I couldn't continue relying completely on my parents. But in the village there was nothing else one could do except hiring oneself as a day laborer in exchange for a few pesos, or one-third of corn. However, it was really very little what one could net in cash, just a few cents, at most one peso.

Then, thinking already as a young woman, with a little more maturity on the head, I decided to leave my parents' to find a job where I could earn a real salary.

I never imagined that the experience of having been a peasant girl would serve me many years later, when I had to speak in public during various meetings and demonstrations, because I consider that there's no best speech than to talk about the episodes that one has lived.

I remember particularly the 12th of October 1985, at the Zócalo.

I was invited to greet the fellow peasants integrating the group Tierra y Libertad, and I spoke to them as a peasant. And I think they must have liked what I told them about how helping my father in the field had let me notice how difficult it is to sow, because my words were received with kindness and respect.

The Cuaxomulco municipality is formed by plateaus, plains, high plateaus and rough terrains. The name of the municipality comes from the nahuatl word cuahxomulco which means "in the corner of the trees".

The first chronicle known about this tlaxcateca area date back to the year 350 BC, when the pre-Hispanic town Barrio de Xaltelulco, belonging to the present municipal territory of Cuaxomulco, controlled a series of settlements whose full expansion took place from 1100 to 1519 AD.

However, the peaceful life of these pre-Hispanic populations was violently interrupted by the Spanish army, which, under the command of Hernan Cortes, destroyed and burned those settlements in retaliation for the resistance put up by the confederate army of Tlaxcala.

Like many other communities of Tlaxcala, Cuaxomulco joined a process encompassing the evangelization, the establishment of the Spanish civil institutions and of Spaniard farmers or homesteaders.

During Mexico's War of Independence, its residents joined individually the insurgent forces and subsequently opposed the annexation of Tlaxcala to the State of Puebla. Once Tlaxcala was erected a free and sovereign State, Cuaxomulco depended on the municipality of Tzompantepec; however, years later Tzompantepec self-sufficiency prompted the severance of Cuaxomulco and surrounding villages from the mentioned municipality.

During the Mexican Revolution, some Tlaxcala homesteaders displayed their sympathy for the Revolution and participated in the democratic battle against Porfirio Diaz's dictatorship.

Today, the town of San Antonio Cuaxomulco is the municipal seat of a territory that has 2,300 inhabitants, and whose main activity still is agriculture.

The name of the municipality comes from the patron saint of the village, Saint Anthony Abbot; around the year 1750, a temple was built in his honor, inside which is a retable in Baroque style, characteristic of the 18th-century.

Source: Enciclopedia de los Municipios de México, Instituto Nacional para el Federalismo y el Desarrollo Municipal (INAFED), Secretaría de Gobernación, Mexico, 2005. Information of the Tlaxcala State Government.

PORTRAIT OF A YOUNG MAID

Willing to help my parents economically, I left the village in 1949, close to turn 12 years old. At that age I joined the domestic workforce in a small town: Apizaco, Tlaxcala.

Although in the first house where I started to work I was only paid 40 pesos a month, for me that was a fortune because while I had been working in the field I hadn't earn one single cent.

The master of the house

The problem that I had during my first and bad experience as a domestic worker—and I stress the bad part—was that after some time, the master of the house tried to get smart on me. And one night, when I was taking a bath, he forced and opened the bathroom door. He entered and fixed his eyes on me: he saw me naked. He was one of those men who take for granted that all women could fall into their clutches.

But the next day, before the master woke up, I jumped over the fence and I went back to my house. From Apizaco to San Antonio Cuaxomulco it was a two hours walk. Even so, I ventured to go because I preferred to escape so as not having to accept the proposition of the man.

When I got home, I found with surprise that my parents were away. The homeowners had gone to tell them that I had disappeared, that they knew nothing of my whereabouts, and that they didn't knew the reason of my escape. That's why my parents, along with the homeowners, had gone to look for me somewhere, and when all of them returned, they found me sitting outside the door of the house.

—I'm here already.

I told them everything that had happened and, of course, the master denied everything. But I still remember clearly that he was very dark-skinned and that he turned pale, white as a pambazo.

I said that due to the proposals and actions of the master, I would not go back to work with them and that I would only return to their house so they could check what I had carried with me, as in a cardboard box I had put away all my gadgets and my clothes.

The lady had ordered some new dresses for me and she took them back; she said that she didn't want to give them to me because she did not believe that her husband had attempted such a thing.

Another use of a bike

But my parents believed me and they talk to me very openly about that issue. Later, after checking what I had taken with me, we went to take back a bike that I had rented on my way home, when the cardboard box started to be a very heavy weight for me. As I didn't know how to ride a bike, I just pushed it with my stuff on it to avoid having to carry it.

The lady had a pleasant manner with me and I accompanied the children everywhere; I was hired to work as a maid, but due to my youth and my interrelation with the children, I ended up devoting myself to put in order all their stuff. The treatment I received was not the wonder of the world, but it was respectful, especially from the lady. And there was a lot of camaraderie with the children. The only problem was the master of the house... In short: although it was not a pleasant experience, somehow it helped me to toughen up, to start building the value we must give ourselves.

I repeat that at that time 40 pesos were a fortune for me. I didn't care too much if it was a fair payment or not. There were things that I had to do and there was a payment for it. But in addition, there I had food, hot water to bathe, a real bed, I could wash and iron and, besides, I also sat down to watch TV with the kids.

I am not ashamed to acknowledge that I was maid. It was an honest work that allowed me to help my parents economically; however, I was forced to leave it.

The babysitter girl

After spending some time at home, I left the village and went to work again in Apizaco. They also paid me 40 pesos, but the treatment was different and that induced me to work in that house only very short time. I didn't feel comfortable because there they had a different place for the servants and we ate in the kitchen; there was not the unity at table that we had in the other house. And in addition, the lady was very scrupulous: you could not grab the child because you had to go wash his hands.

On one occasion, when my mom came to collect my monthly payment, the lady almost ordered to wash with alcohol the spot where she had been standing. Hence, as I didn't consider pleasing those things, very soon I quit and I went to another house.

At the other house I received enough acceptance and more familiarity.

The homeowners called me cuata affectionately and their treatment was pleasant, respectful; they had a daughter and a son that I had to take care of.

But at the christening of the son they intoxicated me because they invited me a few glasses of anisette.

—Come here, cuata. Have a little drink with us, —told me the granddady of the children.

And, what could I know then about drinks, alcohol, and all that! So, I drink it and then the other man, the father of the child, added:

—How can you only have a toast with him? Now have another drink with me.

And wham! Down it went! And so, without realizing it, I drank until I got drunk. I knew it because I had to watch very closely who I had in front of me and who I was talking to.

We were all around the table and, well, then they brought me the child, but as they saw me staggering, they wanted to take him from me. However I didn't want to let him go and I walked with him, but I felt as if I had elephant legs, as if I wasn't stepping well. Finally I gave the child to the lady, I went to sleep and I no longer knew what happened afterwards... until the next day when I got up to do my chores.

That was another experience that, while it is true that there was no malicious intent in it because we all were there celebrating the christening of the child, nor it was something pleasant at all; however, it let me find out that alcohol in excess can lead you to lose your head. Frankly, I never liked alcohol.

The year Jorge Negrete died

I arrived to Mexico City for the first time in 1953. It is a date that I keep in mind because it was when Jorge Negrete died and it got branded in my memory.

As I had already gone out to work, and although I earned very little, I was aware that with that money I could help my parents. The 40 pesos that I gave my mom would help them to buy some things, isn't it?

My eldest sister was already married and lived in the Agricola Oriental district. She was the first that came to live in Mexico City and after that everything was easier for the other sisters because we had a house where to arrive. Besides, we always came when we had a job assured, because my sister had already found it for us.

We were five women who had left our house and my sister, my twin, who also worked in Mexico City, was informed that a couple required a maid willing to work for them in the Lomas de Chapultepec district. Thus I started working with the Mendiola family, comprising the parents and three daughters.

I entered directly as a chambermaid and, suddenly, I helped the cook. The family daughters were already teenagers and were always at school and performing activities we didn't share. I watered the garden or helped the laundress who came once a week.

It was a nice experience in that house because the three young girls even shared their clothes with me. Sometimes it was clothes they no longer wanted and on other occasions, when their parents bought them new clothes, they also bought some for me. I was very young at that time, I was 15 or 16. I stayed working there three years and when in 1957 I asked permission to attend the wedding of one of my brothers, I didn't return to work with them.

Although I ate in the kitchen and there I started to wear a short-sleeves pink uniform with a white apron, because, yes, there was some pressure to stress the social differences: "you are there and I am here", sometimes they called us and we started to talk among all, together with the lady. To some extent, the relationship was friendly and not something as radical as only employer-maid: we had harmony. Of course I couldn't attend their events, which was completely logical, but in the house they were good persons, both with the cook, as with the maid and the laundress.

By then, I already earned 150 pesos a month, which was not yet a lot of money but, as I had no expenses, I sent the whole amount to my parents. In fact, I had no expenses because I ate, I drank, I slept, I bathed and I washed my clothes there. So, as I hadn't the expenses mentioned, those 150 pesos really went a long way. Other than helping my parents, sometimes I also gave some cents to my eldest sister, at whose house in the Agricola Oriental district we use to arrive.

Sundays were my days off and, without prior notice, I used to go and visit my sister and we stayed at her place. Sometimes we'd go to the Good Shepherd temple situated on Aztecs street, near La Lagunilla market. It is the church my sister used to go to and where my eldest daughter got married. Or I went to the temple of the Holy Trinity on Gante Street number five and where my mom got married.

Some great gringos

After the wedding of my brother and staying sometime at home, I returned to Mexico City and started to work again in the Lomas de Chapultepec district, at Sierra Leona 735, with the Djerassi family.

I remember that the master, Dr. Carl Djerassi, was a chemist who worked at Syntex, a pharmaceutical company that was on the way out to the Toluca highway, close to the Cuajimalpa municipal district, but I never knew exactly which were his duties in the laboratory; I only knew that he left early and returned late because he was an important executive.

His wife's name was Norma London Djerassi, and the couple had a son named Dale and a daughter named Pamela. There I also entered to work as a maid and they also treated me very well. We had many liberties and when they went on vacation, the lady brought us a small gift; that means that at least they remembered us caringly.

I don't remember the date I started to work with the Djerassi family, but I was about 18 or 19 years old. Between them they spoke English, but they talked to us in Spanish because we had no clue of English, not even the alphabet.

I remember that, on two occasions, Dr. Carl and Mrs. Norma went to my home to meet my parents in San Antonio Cuaxomulco. Despite being foreigners and having a high income level, they had no qualms or prejudice about going to roll about their feet on the dust, because their car could not reach the place where I lived, and they had to walk quite a stretch on dust. They also enjoyed the nopales and the warm tortillas, which was the only food we were able to offer them.

For me, that was a sign of their simplicity, their humanity and understanding. I don't know what words to use, but that fact sparked in me an identification and a sympathy for them.

I keep a picture of Mrs. Norma when we prompted her to ride the donkey and I'm pulling it. I also keep somewhere a letter that Mrs. Norma wrote to my parents after I stopped working with that family. Because in 1959 I had to ask permission to keep my sister Jahaziel company, the eldest of the family, when her baby was born, and afterwards, that same year but months later, I also kept my sister-in-law company to greet her second child, named Alfredo, and I stayed two months with her.

I never answered the letter: I was rude with the gringuitos. I didn't return to work with them because, around those dates, I was already pregnant with my first daughter, Mahelí, who was born in February 1960, when I had just turned 21 years old.

When my daughter was born, I went back to my parents' house and I stayed at the village for three years. After the death of my dad, in 1963, I went back to Mexico City because I had the opportunity to change activities and join the sewing trade.

The letter of Mrs. Norma Djerassi to my dad

Sierra Leona 735

Mexico, D.F. Mexico

October 29, 1959

Dear Mr.Corona,

Many greetings to all your family. I hope everyone is in good health now.

I want to ask you something, if you allow me. Is your kind daughter Evangelina with you there?

Until the cook (who was in my house when "Eva" was here) left, I wasn't aware that she treated so badly everyone. I think that because of that Evangelina left. I want to tell you that that cook is no longer here. Now I don't have a cook. I have at home a very sympathetic maid and I want another girl to help her. I want to know if Evangelina wants to come back to my house to help me for some ten months that are all the time that we will still be here. At the end of August 1960 we will leave to live in the United States.

Evangelina always behaved well in my home and if she wants to return to live without difficulties with the cook I will be pleased.

I say goodbye to you,

Sincerely,

Mrs. Norma Djerassi

A FAMILY OF WOMEN

During some time I kept living between San Antonio Cuaxomulco and Mexico City. And in one of those occasions, when I returned to the village due to the wedding of one of my brothers, at my parents' house was organized a party attended by friends and neighbors. And at that party I became engaged to a guy named Adrian Perez Montiel.

That was my first and only crush. During the time I stayed in the village we saw each other every week. I lived in my parents' house, and although the boyfriend worked in Mexico City, he came to see me every week at the village. It was one of those occasions when one flies off the candle.

We fell in love and became engaged. Time passed and one day I will never forget, a Holy Saturday, he invited me to go with him to the Church of the village so I could see how the Catholics celebrated that day, which is when they remove the purple altar cloths with which they cover the altars.

On our way home, when we were coming back from the church, Adrian invited me to live with him, but I answered him with a definitive no; that those things should not be done that way. In addition, I told him:

—Think that you are of one religion and me of another and that by uniting our lives you'll have to get closer to my religion or me to yours.

Then he answered me:

—Look, I'd better let you free. I was inviting you because starting next week I will not be able to come to see you anymore because my employer is sending me to Guadalajara.

I was between 18 and 19 years old. And to some extent I considered Adrian's family as mine; I loved his mother almost as I loved my own parents. And the feeling did not stop there: it was a very nice friendship with all his brothers and sisters.

I remember that I felt excited even when I saw passing the mule he used to ride when he visited me. I was able to recognize the sound of the hoofs of his mount from a mile away, and I knew exactly when it was about to arrive to his house or to mine.

Having different religions was not an impediment to fall in love. I think it was a real infatuation. Maybe we could have been happy: we would be reaching 45 years of living together; but, well, fate did not willed that way and we terminated our engagement.

After some time, one day I went to launder in the same place of the river where his mother and sister washed their clothes. And at lunchtime we made a small fire to heat the food, because when we went to wash, we carried our lunch, and we sat down to eat together. Inside the basket of the mother I saw a piece of paper that said "Banco de Londres y Mexico" and so I found out that Adrian was still working in the same place. And as I had not yet accepted any other courtship proposal, I asked my parents' permission to go working again to Mexico City.

And I left the village with the intention of looking for Adrian. At that time I started working in a jewelry store, but I lasted little time there because I couldn't get used to it. However I had enough time to go looking for him.

The jewelry store was on Monte de Piedad Street, and one day I went to ask about Adrian at the Banco de Londres y Mexico branch which was near the clock, the one that is at the corner of 16 de Septiembre and Venustiano Carranza Streets, and they told me that he was working in another branch, the one located on Republica de Cuba Street, near La Lagunilla market and which still exists, as I long as know.

I made up my mind and one day, at lunchtime, I bought a sandwich and I went to look for him; I wanted to see him even if it was through the window, because we had no engagement anymore.

He had told me that he was going to Guadalajara, but it wasn't so. I confirmed that he was in Mexico City: in fact he didn't want to keep going out with me, so there was nothing I could do. From a distance I was able to see that he was leaving the bank with his new girlfriend. And there I suffered a terrible disappointment, I lost heart, it hurt me, I don't know how to describe what I felt at that moment.

My midsummer madness

I was walking back to work and I came across a man whose name was Julio Pacheco, in fact I don't know if he still lives or if he is already dead. The fact is that he started to talk to me and he asked me my name. As I was going fairly depressed he said to me:

I would like to see you some other time, when you feel better.

And we made an appointment for the 1st of May.

When that date arrived, he invited me to the movies, but as not a single movie-house was open we went to row at the Chapultepec Park pond. And then, as a result of my youth and of not having someone to watch over me, we ended in a hotel. I felt that this was my way of releasing the sentimentality I was bearing. It was a moment of revenge, a response to the "you already have your girlfriend", then, "I'm also going to have someone with whom to go out"; and well, due to that brief stay at the hotel I got pregnant with my oldest daughter.

The baby was born on February 10, 1960, so I got pregnant in 59. We met about three times more because he already knew I was pregnant. But as I started to feel more confident, I also began to check his wallet and I came across the pictures of two paunchy little boys, with their T shirts, showing their navels and who turned out to be his children.

At that time I knew I was pregnant so I threw in his face why he was looking for other flings if he already had a wife, and he replied:

Because my wife is hard to please. I already gave her everything: a TV set, a washing machine, a blender, the whole furniture of the house, but she's never satisfied and she's always annoying me. He has two children and now she's expecting her third one.

And then he simply added:

If you have a girl, I'd better divorce her and marry you.

That's great!—I told him. And convinced of my words, I added:

But, you know what? I'm not going to base my happiness or that of my baby on the ashes and ruins of another family. So pick your way and I'll pick mine. I hope that you don't look for me and I will not look for you.

He had already two sons and with the one his wife was expecting there were going to be three.

Your wife is absolutely right. It's not fair to tell her "have a fridge or a TV set" so that you can satisfy your sexual needs with someone else. I don't have to shatter that family. So, farewell and that's it!

Julio Pacheco never got to know the girl. We never saw each other again. We didn't even phone us. I can't call it a real infatuation; it was a pastime, a midsummer madness. I had no right to claim anything because I agreed to go with him. If he would have forced me, perhaps I would have screamed, I would have claimed him, what do I know...

The fact is that the girl was born in Mexico City. I had not notified my parents of the pregnancy. Although I had gone several times to the village, as I didn't displayed a big belly, my pregnancy was not noticeable. They only found it out when my sister-in-law sent them a message:

Evangelina is pregnant and she is about to give birth...

From the outset I had to tell my sister, the eldest, that I was expecting a baby and I stayed at her house until the delivery. It was a girl that I named Maheli. And 19 days after the birth of the baby, my dad went to pick me and he took me to his house. He told me:

You don't have to be a freeloader with anyone. Here is your home. Come to the village.

There was never a claim, there was never a reproach; that forced me to keep myself out of problems for a long time. When Maheli was born in 1960, I was 21 years old and I stayed living in San Antonio Cuaxomulco three more years until 1963, when the accident that killed my dad occurred.

By then, my other brother, who also lived in the house, was already married and I felt uncomfortable because there lived my mom, my sister-in-law and my brother, and we were another family they had to sustain. So, I told my mom that I would rather go to work again in Mexico City.

Single mom by conviction

I had no other sexual relation until I got pregnant with my second daughter, Ana Janette, who was born on June 11, 1972. There's a 12 years difference between my two daughters.

The birth of my second daughter was the result of a single encounter with a guy. I was walking about Pino Suarez Street, window-shopping and (because I have the bad habit of smiling if someone looks at me) a man went by and he saw me and I saw him. It must have been more or less in 1970 or 71.

I kept on walking and, after a while, the man came back and told me:

You have a very nice smile.

Thus began our chat and he kept accompanying me where I was walking, window-shopping. I gave him the address of my workplace, because by then I already worked in a building on the corner of Pino Suarez and Izazaga Streets, in front of the Church of San Miguel, in the same company that years later would move to a building in San Antonio Abad Avenue that collapsed during the 1985 earthquake. At that time the company name was Elisé and we agreed to meet again at another time.

Time passed and we began to meet and during our third appointment the guy suggested me that we go to a hotel, so I told him:

I'm not used to do that.

Perhaps. But it's very nice...

I'm not interested. If one day I do accept to go to bed with a man it would be because I want to have another child, nothing else; and not because I want to have a good time.

That's because no one has made you happy.

I already told you: no. I'm not interested.

Those were my words, "not because I want to have a good time". And time went by and he insisted on his proposal. One day he showed me some pills he was carrying.

Look, you can take one of this pills so that you don't get pregnant...

No, my dear! I already told you that if I decide to go to bed with a man it's because I want to have a child.

We saw each other some other times. Sometimes he accompanied me up near the house, because I never let him know exactly where I lived, nor meet someone in my family. By then I had rented a little place a few blocks from my sister's house.

I remember that the last but one time that we met he told me:

Grant it to me! Although it's only once!

But I hope it's clear to you that it will be the last day that you're gonna see me...

I don't mind, I swear you'll like it!

And one day, after work, I went with him. We remained at the hotel only a little while and then I went home. The next day, he went back to meet me after work.

You know what? I warned you that if I went with you it would be the last time that we would see each other. I don't want you to look for me and I will not look for you. Goodbye!

How can you say goodbye? Look, I...

Well, if you want to go around with a doll, that's your problem, because I won't even answer you.

And I assert that it was the last time we saw each other because the next day he went to pick me after work thinking that I had said something stupid and that I was going to accept him. But that didn't happen so.

Among the talks we had when he accompanied me heading to my house, once he told me:

Why don't we come to an agreement and we live together? I'll move to your house.

And I told him:

Are you out of your mind? I won't take you to my daughter's house nor am I going to take her out of the bed where she sleeps to let a guy lay there, a guy that maybe, after a while, also lays with her. Forget it! We never met!

He wanted to go live with me and I had to house him as if he was the wonder of the world. However, the main reason I didn't want him to live with me was because I had a 12 years old daughter and with the mentality of that guy it could be very easy for him to win over or rape her.

If biological fathers rape their own daughters, I could not risk my daughter to be raped by some guy! And even less if it was a guy who I had got into my house! That made me react and I made up my mind: "No stranger enters my house", I told myself.

When I agreed to have sex with Janette's father it was because I wanted to have another child. But I never accepted the cohabitation that the girl's father proposed me. I preferred the loneliness with another child instead of putting at risk my eldest daughter.

After that, over the years there was always someone who proposed to me or asked me to be his girlfriend. I wasn't so bad looking to go unnoticed, but I didn't want to live enslaved under the yoke of a man. And my two daughters are there, thank God. Both are now married. The eldest married at 21 and the younger almost at 29.

I rather be my daughter's servant

When my brothers learned that I was pregnant for the second time, they tried to break the link between my mom, my girl and I. And they started to hassle Maheli with the idea that the oncoming baby was going to supplant her and I don't know how many other things they told her. The point is that they were trying to embitter our relationship.

They even suggest my mom to abandon me. Only my twin sister, who was born during the same birth as I, said nothing. She simply said:

Leave her alone, it's a right that she has.

To all of my brothers who offered to take her to their houses, my mom answered:

I'd rather be my daughter's maid than the servant of my daughter-in-law or my son-in-law.

Unfortunately that's what happens traditionally with the daughters-in-law. There was a problem with my first sister-in-law, because she didn't wanted my brother to go visit my mom and give her some money so she could buy herself something. My mother was able to make her assessment from a detail as small as that one; she recognized that they were not going to treat her well if she went to live with them. That was the thought on which my mom based her decision to stay with me despite my pregnancy.

My daughter Janette was born in 1972. My mother stayed living with me. The four we spent a long time at my eldest sister's house. Then we lived in two different rented apartments until we finally moved to a house that, over time, I was able to buy.

When my brothers started to give me a roasting, trying to convince my mom to go and live with them, my mom told them no:

Here I feel well and here I stay. Because in my daughter's house I sing, I cry, I laugh, I jump or I plant a stick, because this is also my home. And in the house of any of you I will be left in a corner, isolated, living as a freeloader.

Honestly, I laugh a lot when I remember that, because as she behaved as the housewife, my mom used to tell me:

I am as the wife and you are as the husband: you just come, you give me the money and you leave.

But we were fine that way. And we were even more united because we attended the same temple. We always ate together when I came back from work and we were happy. We never had a serious problem that could be said that caused her to cry or that she went mad because I did something. What's more, she was a great help raising my daughters.

Nobody learns from other's mistakes

I have seen the suffering of many women who I have become acquainted with throughout my life: neighbors, friends, seaming co-workers who commented me "I had no money to buy food for my children" but who, nevertheless, had to go home to serve dinner to their husband. Really, with those experiences you don't feel like having a partner like that. All the things one has to endure to be hugged, kissed and fondled for a while... are not worthwhile.

Despite the saying that "nobody learns through other's experience", I preferred to learn through the experience of other women because I could see the suffering of my co-workers who had a child, and another, and another. And who bears the brunt? They do!

I have known so many women who have been unhappy and whose marriages were nothing but suffering: women whose husbands were violent and vicious; women whose husbands gave them a life of poverty because they were moochers and they spend their time playing cards instead of attending to their family; women who had to look after their daughters to prevent that their drunk husband tries to rape them; jealous men who almost killed the mother in front of their children.

That's a terrible life that we don't wish for anyone, let alone for ourselves. And all this made me wonder what I wanted for a guy like those. And I decided that it was better to live alone than in bad company. And thank God, the family was able to get ahead, most of all because my mom was with me and she helped me a lot with the girls. I used to leave home at seven o'clock for work and come back almost at seven in the evening.

And it was my mom who attended the school meetings, who used to sign the report cards. It was her who used to go to see what was going on if there was a requirement at the school... In short, it was her who saw on the girls.

I think that way we lived much more peaceful, much happier. I arrived home and my mom was singing. She had been happy, and then she went out to give injections or people came home for her to inject them. Or pregnant women came to be rubbed on their belly...

My daughters didn't need to know their fathers

When time came to talk about their respective fathers, I told my two daughters the truth. I told Maheli that as I had found out that her father was already married, I decided I was not going to found the happiness of the girl on the ashes of another marriage. And in the case of Janette, I told her that I could not bring home a man who could supplant her sister or my mother; much less expose them both; because if from the start the man had proposed me a cohabitation that was a clue that he was not trustworthy.

I didn't tell any of my daughters that their father had forced me. At different times I assumed my responsibility in front of them because I had made the decision to get pregnant. My daughters respected and understood my decision. I discussed the matter with them when each of them reached adolescence.

Although I never asked them, I suspect that perhaps they asked my mom some times more. I think my mom chatted a lot with my daughters and gave them examples of many situations because she had mingled with so many married couples and with so many couples when she attended childbirths, that she had been able to see how men always coerced women to be submissive. I think that my mom must have discussed that matter with my daughters...

Even lately, Janette asked me:

And well, how was my dad?

And I answered her with these words:

I really didn't have a lot of dealings with him. At best, we met six times. I didn't even ask the name of his parents or if he ate or didn't ate. He was one of those guys who live their life without commitments or remorse of any kind.

Janette answered me:

It was better that I never knew him because I don't know how I would have reacted if I knew who he is and where he is...

I've told my two daughters the truth: that their fathers had nothing special or unique, because all men are the same and behave in the same way.

Whatever the circumstances, I made the decision that "you go your way and I go mine", and from that moment on I never saw them again. Moreover, I am convinced that if I saw them now I would not be able to recognize them; I don't know if they live or not, if they are healthy or sick, or what has happened to their lives.

Maheli's dad was a teacher and, as long as I know, he practiced some sport because he used to go to the Deportivo Chapultepec Club. It's all I know about him. I never memorized or knew his second family name because our relationship didn't last very long. They were moments—as I always have called them—of Midsummer madness.

What worries us, as moms, is what our daughters might say about us. In some way we fear how they will react because, when we tell them the truth, we run the risk that they understand and admire us or that they reject and despise us. Fortunately, the girls reacted positively, they didn't care. However, I also feared that they could rebel and tell me "because you did it, then I will also do it", but luckily that never happened.

The worst thing of all: My own daughter's rejection

Within the seamstresses union, most of them smoked and drank. On many occasions they insisted that I join them smoking and drinking.

At least have a small drink and one cigarette.

And I always turned down their invitation because it is something I don't like and not even due to my religion: I simply don't take a liking to those things.

What kept me firm in my position not to smoke or drink was an experience, very tough for me, I had with my daughter Janette. I was coming from the union and when I got home my daughter said to me:

Mom, step away. Yuck! Don't you dare to come close to me! You stink of cigarette smoke!

Feeling rejected by my own daughter was the last straw for me. In fact, I didn't smoke, but I spent so much time among smokers that my clothes ended impregnated with that smell.

That was between 1985 and 1986; Janette was already 14 years old; that was an age in which she could have told me, "Alright, I'm also going to smoke. If you're smoking I'm going to do it just like you do." However, as my daughter never saw me smoking or drinking, she didn't have that bad example.

A HOUSE OF MY OWN

What else can we ask if we have a family and a house of our own!

One has to go stringing things together, as they happen, one by one...

I remember that for a long time I lived in the house of my sister Jahaziel, the eldest of all, in the Agricola Oriental district. In addition to my mom, from my village I brought my eldest daughter, Maheli, when she was six years old, and so she was able to study her primary school in Mexico City. But then problems began to arise between cousins: they snubbed the girl and provoke her. Sometimes, my mom berated her and even gave her a spank, but that was rather unfair because my girl usually behaved well, although sometimes she deserved, rightly, a good tug on her ears.

So, to avoid problems, I decided to move somewhere else. I had to rent in two different places before I could buy a small house—which is the one where I have lived for 30 years—and since the beginning my mom was very pleased with my project.

False promises

Then I started investigating how I could buy a house... The first opportunity I thought I had was at the beginning of the 1970s, during the election campaign for the administration change from president Diaz Ordaz to Echeverria, who at the time was trying to obtain his party's nomination.

Both at the campaign committees and in the propaganda, they offered people their assistance to buy a house. They asked us to give them our address and to fill our election I.D. card, because at that time there were no official voter credentials, just cards. Then, we wrote our address and supposedly that made us supporters of the Institutional Revolutionary Party (PRI). We were persons in need of a house who were going to support the presidency candidate in his campaign with the idea that we would receive some help to get our house...

So, I started looking for a house in many places: I went to the Iztacalco hills; then I went to Zaragoza Avenue where there were some shacks that I didn't like because there were so small that I called them "pigeon lofts": they only had a really very small living room and a closet with a small bedroom and that's all. Although they were very small, I neither had the opportunity to buy one of those.

I kept looking for a home because I realized that the guys of the PRI had brain-washed us with the promise that if we supported them we were going to have our own house. After voting, and the campaign being over, we went to ask for the house they had promised us or, at least, a lot where we could build one. The committee had vanished completely; I realized that it had been a sham, that everything had been a flash in the pan, and nothing else.

But I kept with the idea that I had to take my mom out of my sister's house as soon as possible so that she could have a place to attend her clients with freedom and peace of mind, and that made me insist on searching.

And between one of those comings and goings, I told one of my sisters:

Listen, I'm looking for a house. If you find out that there's one somewhere, tell me so I can talk and see what my 'chances' are.

Payment by installments

And it turned out that a friend, an acquaintance of my sister—God knows how they met!—was going to sell his home near the market of San Juan and that he could sell it by installments. We made an appointment and my mom and I when to talk with him. We agreed that I would hand him a 15 thousand pesos down payment and I would sign monthly one thousand pesos promissory notes to pay the rest: 35 thousand pesos which, including the deed and the paperwork, increased to close to 65 thousand pesos because, as the house was intestate, I had to pay those procedures and the notary public fee on the change of owner. All of that, almost doubled the price.

When we talked with him, we agreed, and my mom was thrilled. The house was not as it is now. At that time it only had two rooms, and the small bathroom was outside, it had an overlying wall: pebbles and small bricks, just with its small wooden door, and it had a cistern. There was a passageway and in the back of the plot there was a small room which was already falling down because it was abandoned: it was nothing but a wall because it lacked everything, even a roof.

The moneylender woman

Well, to close the deal I had to pawn and borrow money because although in my sewing job I almost always earned a little more than the minimum wage, two minimum wages at that time, it was not enough to collect the 15 thousand pesos down payment and the fixed monthly payments.

So I had to resort to a woman who lent money, as far as the Aragon district. I don't remember who recommended her to me, but she lent us money. Fortunately, the interest she asked me was not burdensome, it was three percent, but it greatly affected our economy because every month we had to pay the promissory note and its interest separately.

I closed the deal in 1974: I handled the man the down payment and I signed the promissory letters. That same year I started to pay and we moved to what would be my house since that moment on. We began to repair it very slowly.

The first thing we had to build was a front wall because as there was nothing there, people just came inside the plot all day long. Some officials from the municipality also had to come to do the alignment because the terrain has a five centimeters width reduction. We had to negotiate with the landlord on that side to avoid any problem at the time I would demolish the small back room.

Housewarming

We started to repair and clean the house because it was full of all sorts of garbage: dead animals, dirt, bugs... It's something difficult to imagine.

We had no problems with the neighbors. We fixed everything and we finally moved into our house on November 1974. I remember very well that date because we were already living there when we celebrated my daughter's Maheli 15th birthday and Janette's christening.

Fortunately I paid the small house relatively quickly because whenever I could I paid promissory notes in advance and in less than four years I paid off the balance. For example, I entered a group savings pool which is a savings method very common among the seamstresses because it helps us get out of economic troubles, and that was how I could get a property.

Although it only lasted four years, it was a period somehow sad because we had to endure many economic restrictions and the one who mainly paid the consequences was my eldest daughter, Maheli, because during that time I couldn't buy her many of the things she wanted.

Nonetheless, that economic hardship forced me to be more responsible both with my mom and my daughters. That situation also forced me to keep away from all kind of entertainment anywhere else. My life was from work to home and from home to work, except when we had rehearsals of the choir of the Church, or some meeting or study. In those occasions, I knew I would find my mom and the girls in the temple, because we never leave them alone at home. My mom helped me a lot to take care of them and bring them up.

Thus, in 1985, when the Seamstress Union was founded and I started leading it, there were at least five years since I had finished paying the house.

And now, after so many years, when I mull over on the matter, I think that the effort and sacrifices were worth: the girls were happy because they no longer had to endure the "grim faces" of their cousins, nor bear the disadvantages of living in a rented place. Eventually, my daughters were in their own home.

THE SEAMING PROFESSION

Faced with the opportunity of entering the seaming trade, after the death of my father I returned permanently to the city of Mexico. The experience that I previously had in a jewelry store, although very brief, allowed me to change activity and stop being a maid.

I entered the seaming profession almost without knowing how to thread a needle. At the village we had a pedal and shuttle very old machine that my mom utilized to make us dresses. Sometimes, my mom let us play with the little machine: she pulled out a piece of cloth here and another one there so that I could sew them on the machine and that allowed me to have a small notion on the subject. But it was not the same to thread a machine like the one of my mom than one of a workshop. It was only years later when I learned to thread a professional machine watching how one of my sisters did it.

Uniforms for the "tamarinds"

I got my first seaming-related job around 1959. It was at Casa Gante located in Revillagigedo Street near the corner with Victoria Street. It was a small sewing shop in downtown Mexico City, almost in front of the Alameda Square, and there they made the uniforms for the "tamarinds", as people used to call the traffic officers because of the brown and beige uniforms they wore.

I began working in that company because my eldest nephew, Apolonio Ramos, who kept the books of Casa Gante, connected me with that job. There I lasted a short time, only a few months, because my dad came to Mexico City to take me back to the village.

My activity was, rather, like tailoring: I ironed the shoulder pads and then sew them by hand in their place in jackets and sport coats. When years later I formally joined the sewing shops, I started doing the overlock stitching of the trousers on the overlock machine, because at that time the stitches were still loose, not like now when virtually all stitches are tight.

We called my work threading and it was done so that the garments didn't fray, and I had to do it by hand. In Casa Gante they only employed sewing machines for the assemblies, that is, to sew together the shoulders or the sides, or to close the sleeves. I was also assigned to iron the garments and thus shape the jacket sleeves; that was like making the fabric bloom so that it opened and then we could shape the shoulders.

I remember that I earned 77 pesos a week, a little more than twice what I earned as a maid. But as at that time I started to spend on bus tickets, I soon discovered that such an amount was not enough for much: I gave some of it to my sister, because I was living at hers', and sometimes I bought her some stuff for the pantry. On the other hand, I couldn't continue sending my parents the full monthly payment, just part of it.

In fact, I have very few memories of that time because most of my workmates were men and they talked to each other as men: very bubbly, with double meaning expressions and dirty jokes. At times I felt uncomfortable because I couldn't get the meaning of their sayings and I preferred to ignore them, as if I didn't hear them, because I disliked their behavior. So I didn't relate a lot with them and I don't even remember their names. I only remember Mrs. Carmen: she was the one who helped me, who told me what I had to do, and who taught me how to do it.

As in that place there were more men than women, I was very isolated and my schedule was from 8:00 in the morning until 7:00 in the evening, with a recess for lunch, and although sometimes I ate somewhere nearby, generally I brought a sandwich that I prepared at home.

At that time there were not as much bus routes as today and it was a real problem to go downtown. Sometimes I had to walk from La Candelaria district, because the bus route terminal was there at a street called La Santisima, down to the Alameda Central square.

My first formal employer

When I came to settle permanently in Mexico City, I joined the seaming trade when, in 1964, I started working in a factory located at 42 Uruguay Street. The company's name was Rommy Terly. Later it would be named Jennifer Line and its owners were the Jewish brothers Elias, Pepe and Eduardo Anquie. I found out about that company because my sister Bitinia, the third of us, worked there.

I can say that, more than his brothers, Elias Anquie was my first formal and legal employer in the sewing industry, because at Casa Gante, where they made the uniforms for the "tamarinds", I never met the owner. I must have worked one or two years at Jennifer Line (I don't remember exactly) because in 1968 and 1969 I was already working at the Cervantes workshop which made sewing maquila for Mr Elias.

I will always remember my first work experience at Jennifer Line because, by the way, I did it all wrong: I was assigned to do a type of blouse that had an embroidered strip between two sewing lines. And as I didn't know yet how to operate and thread properly the overlock machine, my sewing was all loose and the stitches, which seemed fangs, could be untied with just a small pull.

When my boss checked the 250 blouses I had just finished sewing their yokes, he noticed that all the seams opened up, so, with the help of my sister, I had to redo all my work to fix that flaw.

Mr Elias Anquie behaved really cool with me because he was patient with me and although I spent a lot of time with those blouses, he didn't tell me: "You know what, Miss? You're fired!"

I remained working a long time with the Anquies. I always received a nice treatment from them; later, when they faced financial problems due to the lack of work, they transferred me to one of their sewing maquila suppliers.

The Cervantes workshop

During 1968 and 1969 I was already working for mister Cervantes at 7 Argentina Street, where now is located the Templo Mayor museum. The subway was inaugurated during that period. The workshop didn't have a name, but it was one of the several sewing maquila suppliers of the Anquies.

There I had some very dear female friends. I remember very well one of them whose name was Leonor Hernandez Torres, because her initials were the name of the LTH batteries and I used to make fun of her for that. But she married and she stopped working; I knew beforehand that her change of life would separate us.

Then came another young woman who replaced Leonor both in the workplace and in my feelings. Her name was Rufina but I cannot remember her family names. We became great friends, but soon some coworkers started sowing discord and predisposed us against each other and she stopped talking to me; I also cried for her.

They fooled Rufina telling her that I was trying to steal her boyfriend and that's why she stopped talking to me. But even more: in the workshop we worked with music and we had all the Cuco Sanchez songs, and she started putting a song really spicy that alluded to betrayals.

I like a lot Cuco's songs, but they recall me that that girl allowed herself to be carried away by the disastrous ideas of some other female pals and so she stopped talking to me. I used to go out and about with that girl and we ate together, so when she stopped talking to me I felt a great pain because I didn't know the reason. I had the doubt of what had happened, why she put those betrayal songs, especially a song that says, "I'll pay you back with the same currency so that you are well paid and even if there's some change you can keep it".

That workshop used to assemble garments for the Jennifer Line company and they paid extremely cheap their workers. Later I would find out that it was just one case of the seamstress's exploitation.

Mr. Cervantes himself used to teach and guide us. He told us what each of us was going to do. Sometimes, when he saw that I had finished what I had to do with the over, he asked me to lend a hand to my female coworkers, assigning me the work they were supposed to do.

Many times I told my coworkers that it was good that the boss trusted me, but that it was bad because I had to open and close the shop. Mr. Cervantes left the premises very unconcerned and it was me who had to open, close, and assign the work to the girls, in addition to my work at the over. In one word, he doubled my work but he didn't double my salary. The only advantage was that I felt satisfied because, obviously, being entrusted the shop keys was a distinction, a sign that he trusted me, and he trusted me because he had appraised my responsibility, and that speaks well of you, but it doesn't help you earn more money...

When the workshop was moved to the San Bartolo Naucalpan municipality, some of my coworkers agreed to follow Mr. Cervantes. However, I didn't accept to go work at that new address because it was too far away from home, so I decided to look for another job.

For me, 1968 went by unnoticed

In 1968, the subway construction was at its peak and I didn't know much about the students. Although I was working in Argentina Street, very close to the notorious high school, it was very far from where the students carried out their rallies and protest parades.

From the Argentina Street, westbound to Tlatelolco, there's a great distance and I never went that way as I traveled southbound to go back to the Agricola Oriental district where I lived.

It was very difficult for me to read the newspapers at that time because the sewing work schedule took up all my time and didn't let me see beyond it. We may pass in front of a newspapers stand and see the headlines, but nothing else. And concerning the radio, I can't say that we could hear at the news because all we heard in the workshop was Cuco Sanchez music, sung music. That's why I never heard about the student's movement. I went from my house to work and back.

I didn't even have the opportunity to see a rally. The only thing that stopped us on our way was the train passing at San Lazaro, at a crossing the bus had to go through unavoidably. And when the train grabbed us, the bus was delayed. If it was on my way back home there was no problem: we just waited and that was all. But if that happened on our way to work, that meant being late because it was a very long train with some forty wagons that took a long time to pass.

Fifteen years at Elisé/Popet

When the Cervantes workshop moved to Naucalpan, I started to look for work, and I ran into a man I didn't know, but to whom I asked just by chance:

—Mister, do you know a place where they need seamstresses?

—The shop where I am working is looking for seamstresses. You can go and see. The address is 37 Izazaga Street almost on the corner with Pino Suarez, on the fourth floor.

That's how I arrived at the Elisé factory, whose owner was Mr. Samuel Bizu. They made me a test, I passed it and I began to work that same day. By that time, with what I had learned with Mr. Elias and Mr. Cervantes I could perform well. In fact I've never considered myself the "best", because there were other coworkers who were faster and more self-confident working with the over.

Here they timed us with a stopwatch to check how much time we needed to complete each garment and determine how many pieces we had to produce each day.

Sometime we became almost one hundred female workers in Izazaga, but then Elisé was merged with Mr. Bizú's son workshop, its name was changed and was moved to another site because at Izazaga Street rents were very high.

Besides merging both workshops, they also reduced the workforce. And I suppose that with the savings on the payroll and the rent they were able to rent two floors in the new building—there was only one floor in Izazaga—and they installed the sewing shops in one floor and they left the other one for the cutting jobs and for using it as a warehouse.

At the San Antonio Abad workshop we produced garments for department stores such as El Palacio de Hierro, Liverpool, Sears and Suburbia in its early days. I always thought highly of Mr. Samuel Bizú, the owner, because he used to behave very well with us and occasionally he even spent time with us and we shared our food with him: he wasn't conceited at all believed and he ate our tortillas.

I already had 15 years working in Bizú's factory and he had never called my attention, not even for being late: in 15 years I only had three absences and I was late two times. So when the boss came to the workshop to greet women workers, I was pleased and I left my work a little while to go meet him with a hug. So I was shocked the day Mr. Bizú came really mad at me and ordered me to go to his office and he told me:

—Mistress, I am sick of you for upsetting the factory. If you don't want to work, don't work, but don't incite the rest of the seamstresses to stop working. Leave them in peace.

The engineer and the chiefs of personnel had falsely accused me of promoting slowdowns. When the boss stopped screaming and scolding me, I calmly explained him the situation and took him to the shop so he could check it personally:

—Look, I'm not the boss and work stops because there's a bottleneck. Check my payroll and my reports and you'll see that I'm the one who produces more work. So it would be absurd for me to tell the other workers not to rush when I am working as hard as I can to supply all the assembly line, to feed the seven machines operating after me. The problem is that the blouses are coming in incomplete, without the trim, the bias and the pockets. Is that my fault, my responsibility?

Fortunately, the boss recognized that work was poorly organized; he apologized and we kept our good relationship, treating each other with respect. And there are things that I do blame the boss and others that I don't.

For instance, Mr. Bizú had the erroneous idea that we were paid our full salary, that at least we all earned the minimum wage, because that was what informed him his accountant when he handed him the payroll report for his signature.

But reality was different: the accountant Raul Aguilar took money out of the workers' payroll envelopes arguing that they were paid too much and I imagine that he kept that money for himself. He assigned us a garment quota and if a coworker exceeded it he didn't pay her the surplus.

It was as if we worked by the piece, but without receiving the payment for the work delivered. Sometimes when I recognized this situation I went the accountant office to defend the girls. I complained to the accountant for what he was doing and sometimes he returned them their money, but some other times he simply ignored our complaints.

I am not saying that there was no exploitation nor I justify the behavior of our employers, because they always had money to buy machines, to buy cars, to go on vacation, but they never had money to increase the wages of the seamstresses.

That's why people use to say that Jews are exploitative bosses, but there are Mexicans worse than the Jews, such as accountant Raul Aguilar, who was a Mexican but nevertheless a despicable person. He was the one who started sowing discord between the boss and the female workers. However, it is also true that very often the bosses' middlemen were more unfair than the bosses themselves.

In the end, when we moved to the building at 150 San Antonio Abad Avenue, the company's name was already Jean, S.A. and Popet. It had some 120 female workers, many of them would be caught there by the 1985 earthquake.

The overlock, a machine I loved a lot

My sister Bitinia—the one who was already working for Mr. Elias in the same factory where she got me a job—taught me how to operate and thread the over.

However, my other sister, in whose house I lived, had also a machine and she sewed maquila in her house. At that time she mostly sewed the elastic of panties and slips. But she also sewed aprons that she was delivered at her home by the lady who got her the maquila.

And somehow, seeing how my sister sewed at home, I learned and I also got the idea without having a trainer teaching me specifically that this operation must be done this way and this other one this way; I learned as needs arose.

When I started operating motor-powered sewing machines, the first I learned to operate was the straight stitch machine, but only superficially: some tweezers of the sleeve or tweezers for the front of blouses.

Later, as I practiced and became more skilled with the over, I also started sewing the whole garment, but under the guidance of the supervisor or of the other coworkers who did that work.

The overlock is a fine machine: it stitches, neatens and trims away excess fabric. Over the years I also learned to operate the rolled hemmer, the buttonhole and the button attachment machines. However, I never operated the irons, although they were already steam and cylinder irons; in this area I only handle the usual domestic iron.

But of all the machines, the over was my piece of cake. When it got lost due to the earthquake, I cried lot because I considered it my co-worker, my instrument, my tool, my food provider... One learns to love the things with which we spend a lot of our time, we share our daily work.

The over is a very, very fast machine and has blades that trim away the excess fabric as the needles go sewing; thus, a brief inattention and there goes the garment that gets trimmed. It has such speed that the blade can get heated to the extent that it melts the thread, mainly if it is polyester.

Sometimes we had problems with the machine because if we had to stop sewing for some reason, the thread got stuck in the needle, melted and cut. And as a result we had to rethread the machine, with the ensuing loss of time.

Main health problems of seamstresses described by them, and how to solve them

Insufficient lighting and use of artificial (fluorescent or neon) light causes decreased vision or blindness. (Practiced strategy: for guiding their sewing or cutting, the seamstresses used their touch and not their sight.) Suggested solution: report blown light bulbs, larger premises with big windows letting enter natural light).

Noise mainly generated by the sewing machines causes headaches and, eventually, hearing loss. (Practiced strategy: listening to music as a relaxation means to decrease the noise intensity and make work more enjoyable. Thwarting noise with more noise, although musical. Suggested solution: provide earplugs or earmuffs).

Poor ventilation causes build-up of vapors and excessive heat coming from the machines. (Practiced strategy: open the windows and "cool down" before leaving the workshop.) Proposed solution: install appropriate ventilation systems).

Repetitive operations cause tiredness. (Practiced strategy: slowdowns and production control.) Suggested solution: repetitive operations must be rotating).

Exposure to toxic vapors coming from fabric stain-removers (white gas and thinner), detergents to wash fabrics and garments to remove the rubber and the oil of the machines and, and the gas and alcohol used for cleaning the machines. (Practiced strategy: the seamstresses went sporadically to the bathroom to stop breathing those substances for a while; they also covered their mouth with some piece of cloth and they wore gloves when they could).

Ingestion of dust and lint from the fabrics and garments, as well as from the street and the machines. (Suggested solution: use respirators) They also proposed that factories should give every seamstress one liter of milk every other day to clean her lungs, but they failed.)

Physical positions. Most of those who work seated were those who assembled the garments on the straight, special and finishing phase machines. They described this position as the one that "most damages the lungs", as they had to remain 'humpbacked' for hours, thus causing them a deformation of their back. Those who worked standing also got very tired for being standing the whole shift; their feet, back and waist hurt, and sometimes they even developed varicose veins. (Suggested solution: staggered breaks).

Source: Patricia Ravelo Blancas, Trabajo, enfermedad y resistencia entre costureras de la Ciudad de México, Secretaria del Trabajo y Prevision Social, Mexico, 2001.

THE 1985 EARTHQUAKE: A BEFORE AND AN AFTER

On September 19, 1985, at the time of the earthquake, I was leaving my youngest daughter, Janette, at the middle high school located about six blocks from our house. I remember that we were waiting in line for the entry of the girls.

The floor started to move and we lean up against the wall of the school. We waited, as we could, for the earthquake to end. As it had rained the night before, there was water in the curbs of the street and the water moved as small sea waves; besides feeling the movement that way, we also recognized that it was shaking. Then we turned towards the electricity poles and we could see that the wires were swinging. Anyway, I waited there until the girls were allowed to enter the school and then I took my bus bound to my work.

Only a short time before, at most some three months, the female workers had pitch a fit because they had moved our check in time but maintaining the break time we had for lunch. Before, I entered at 7 a.m., but when they changed my entry time to 8 a.m., I began to leave the workplace one hour later and for me it was terrible because due to the trip on the bus and everything else it was really dark when I got home. But thanks to this change of schedule, the earthquake didn't catch me inside the sewing workshop. It was the protection of "who is up there" (God) and that has helped me on various occasions throughout my life.

The bus line that left me closer to my workplace was called Circuito Hospitales and its terminal was in the Topacio and Clavijero Streets; from there I usually walked down to San Antonio Abad Avenue. But the day of the earthquake, when we were crossing the Francisco del Paso y Troncoso Avenue, we started to see that the sidewalks slabs were out of place and the traffic was very slow.

Barely, the bus reached Morazan Avenue, which is now Congreso de la Union Avenue, and it couldn't go further because the trolley buses were blocking the traffic as they couldn't move due to the lack of electrical power. So, I had to get down there and walk all my way to San Antonio Abad Avenue.

The building looked like a "sandwich"

I remember that, when I was still on the bus, I was boasting that the building where I worked was not going to collapse because after a previous earthquake, which was also quite strong, some experts came to inspect it and they told us that the building had not suffered damages because it was built on hydraulic pilings (so far I don't know what the hell those things are). The words of the architect made me feel confident and the issue didn't bother me anymore. That's why, despite all the difficulties, that September 19, 1985 I tried to get to work, confident of the experts' assessment which gave me the peace of mind that everything was going to be OK.

I had a lot of trouble to arrive because there were no buses running. Sirens could be heard everywhere, and people ran aghast. For me it was something normal that from the La Viga Avenue one could see the Corona beer billboard located on the roof of the building. And when I reached La Viga Avenue, as I couldn't see the small crown I said to myself "Oh my gosh, what happened here?" But at that moment I thought that I couldn't see the billboard because, as I was walking, I was still far away.

I kept walking and when I got closer I could see the pile of rubble and my surprise was huge when I saw that the building where I worked was like "seated"; instead of the eleven floors it had, now its height was the equivalent to four floors. It had collapsed as a sandwich and currently it only has two floors and a half.

I was impressed to find that the tricolor flag that we had made with pieces of fabric of the garments that we sewed and that we had placed on the window for the Independence holidays of September 15 and 16, was waving alone among the piles of rubble, as asking for help. So far I still think about that little flag waving in the middle of the collapsed building, and I get a lump in my throat.

We never knew exactly how many, but quite a few coworkers got trapped, others were able to escape and we never knew what happened to the rest. I don't know it for sure, but I cannot utterly dismiss it because when we could finally go inside the remains of the building, I went to what had been the freight elevator and it smelled of rotten. This elevator was big because it was used to lift fabrics, machinery and merchandise; according to my calculations it could fit some 20 people tightly. But it was never opened.

There were 14 workshops operating in that building! Besides, on the ground floor there was an office of the Public Education Secretariat (SEP).

It was really something dreadful, a tremendous shock. What I did was to walk, turning around, to see if it could find some of my other coworkers, to see who was alive or if there was someone I knew. The coworkers who remained inside the top floors and could get out from the rubble, tied pieces of cloth to get down like "Tarzan". Little by little we met with those who had also decided to come despite the situation.

Indelible events

Then we saw that we could not approach the building because soldiers had already surrounded the area and did not let anyone pass. However, at the corner of Gutierrez Najera Street and San Antonio Abad Avenue was a terminal of kombis—now minibuses—and I saw several of those vehicles crushed. Then I saw a kombi trying to make its way as fast as possible and through its opened door I could see inside a woman with her legs covered with blood.

I also saw that a stationary gas tank was dumped in San Antonio Abad Avenue and for that reason the army had cordoned off almost immediately the area, because of the risk that the gas could explode. That made us stay there with some coworkers who, when we met, we hugged saying:

—What will happen now?

Some sobbed uncontrollably, some reassured each other, and some others suggested that if we weren't going to be able to do anything there, we should better look for the boss to ask him what his plans were, what encouragement he would give us, and if we were going to keep working for him or not anymore.

We waited to be as many as we could and we head for the office of the boss, sited in Fray Servando Avenue, between Bolivar and Isabel la Catolica Streets. We only gathered 20 of us, although at that time at least some 60 people were working in the workshop. Though we weren't going very far, it took us a long time to get there because, as there were no buses, we had to walk along the streets still open; and here and there we found many people crying in the median strips; many people asking loudly for help, the sound of sirens, smoke and dust... It was an experience that, truth be told, I wouldn't like to go through again for anything in the world.

When we found the boss, whose name was Samuel Bizú, he told us that in those moments he couldn't think of anything because the building where he was had also been damaged. So we made an appointment to meet days later at the Victoria Square, the one that is next to the Villa de Cortes subway station.

Damages to the seamstresses due to the 1985 earthquake

1,326 workshops or factories were closed, 800 of which completely destroyed

Without salary most of the seamstresses of the damaged factories

Between 6 and 7 thousand female workers, mostly seamstresses, were affected.

Most of them used to work labor days of more than 10 hours and were paid less than the minimum official wage.

Many workshops are dummy companies and, as such, they are able to evade all kinds of responsibilities with just taking away their equipment

Source: Sara Lovera and Luis Alberto Rodriguez, La Jornada, October 3, 1985; and Ricardo del Muro and Saide Sesin in Unomásuno, October 9, 1985.

The days following the tragedy

The stench of the corpses still buried under the rubble could be sensed in the air. It was three days after the earthquake and we hadn't yet received a proposal that calmed us down, or at least one telling us if we were going to continue working for the boss or not, so we went to look for Martin Martinez Roque, the union representative we had at that time.

But instead of representing the interests of the workers, Martinez Roque seemed to be the representative of the boss. However, he led us to the Worker's Protection Agency to file a claim and request the reopening of the factory and the reinstatement of the workers or their dismissal compensation.

The hearing was held on October 8th and that day the boss proposed that our situation be considered as a "fortuitous fact" that had not been caused neither by him nor by us, the seamstresses. Accordingly, he offered us 20 percent of what the law establishes for fortuitous facts and the union representative advised us to accept his offer because there were other bosses who didn't offer even that. He tried to compel us on the grounds that it was better to accept that instead of getting nothing.

But we refused and decided to take the boss to court. At that moment the union representative left us and no longer supported us. We wanted the Local Board of Conciliation and Arbitration of the Federal District to determine the legal amount corresponding to each worker, because the boss had hastily made a calculation according to which those of us who had been working for him almost 15 years would not even receive 75 thousand pesos of those days, that is 7,500 pesos of today, and those who had only four or five years working for him would not receive one single cent.

Most of us were completely ignorant of what the law said on the matter. And as we had rejected the offer of the boss, that same day we started to be contacted by persons who invited the seamstresses to unite and set up what later would be the Union de Costureras en Lucha.

A few days before, the man from the union had told us that he would have wanted to offer a job to all of us, but he had not many companies under his control. So he only offered us three jobs in the southwest part of the city, back in the direction of Contreras, and three teammates went to work there.

I used to travel to the Taxqueña metro terminal and there I took a bus bound for the Mercado de la Bola. Thus I arrived to work and in the afternoon I traveled back to downtown. It was then when I could see how many people were committing acts of rapine. Although there was no service at the San Antonio Abad station, the trains stopped there for some time and from the window I could see people stealing things from the sewing workshops. I saw a man who looked chubby for wearing many jackets one above the other: those were the jackets that we had made and that I recognized because I had worked on them.

Disaster zone: the sewing workshops

There were several sewing workshops on San Antonio Abad Avenue. In the building where I worked, there were 14 workshops; in the building on the side was Verona; closer, but on the other side, was Carniva1; a little lower were Annabel and Dimension Weld in the same building, and in the corner was the Topeka workshop.

Of all those buildings, several women came out crying. Our Carnival coworkers told us that their employer tried to compel them to work but they were afraid to enter the building because it was still standing, but damaged, with cracked stairs.

I remember that when the employers tried to take the machines out of the building where the Annabel and Dimension Weld workshops operated, which were in fact two large factories, the seamstresses formed a human chain and throw themselves to the floor to prevent them to do so. The owners displayed more interest in rescuing their machinery and fabrics than in the lives of our trapped teammates. The Verona workshop building, which only had six floors, was barely damaged because it only tilted and thus pushed back the building where I used to work, nonetheless, the seamstresses were afraid to get in it.

Some days later, when it was determined that the people trapped under the debris could not be alive anymore, out of the Topeka building they began to remove bloodstained fabric rolls, some of them with parts of scalp. That allows us to infer that those rolls fell down and crushed the persons; but the Topeka people didn't care to take out the corpses from within the rolls. That's why many female workers were considered missing and their bodies were never found.

After several days, as the relatives of the trapped seamstresses could not find their names in the lists of the already identified bodies, they planted themselves in front of the collapsed buildings, waiting for the rubbles to be removed and thus they could find the corpses of their relatives, but days passed and passed, and nothing happened.

Initially, the surviving seamstresses we had hoped that the bosses would appear and vouch for all of us. Nonetheless, when the employers suddenly appeared it was to take away their machinery: for them those things were worth more than the lives of their female workers.

The feminists' call

As a result of the dissemination of the seamstresses' situation, mainly through newspapers, a group of feminists convened a meeting to discuss the defenselessness situation in which we were and resolve what could be done in this regard. The meeting was carried out at the forum of the Gandhi Bookstore in the first days of October. Among the convening women were Elena Poniatowska, Neus Expresate, Amalia Garcia, Marta Lamas, Angeles Mastreta, Lorenia Parada, Eli Bartra, Fatima Fernandez Christlieb, Victoria Novelo, Marie-Claire Acosta and Rosa Maria Roffiel, just to mention some names I still recall. They were the first persons to show solidarity for the seamstresses and who helped in the site of the tragedy, whether individually or organized through a committee. Feminists fulfilled a very important function as they began to guide the seamstresses in the defense of our rights.

The seamstresses start to get organized

Monday, September 23, I started working at the workshop located in the Magdalena Contreras delegation and October 8 was the last day I worked there. I only worked two weeks and the next Monday I just went back to pick my scissors and other things I had left there.

That same October 8 I went back to San Antonio Abad Avenue to have a look at what had happened during those days and because it was the designated date for the labor hearing with whom had been our boss. I found that many volunteers who were students or teachers of the Universidad Nacional Autonoma de Mexico (UNAM), the Universidad Autonoma Metropolitana (UAM) and the Colegio de Ciencias y Humanidades (CCH) were already working in the disaster area.

In fact, I don't know who showed up first because when I arrived many male and female volunteers were already there. However, I mostly recall Yan Maria Castro, Alma Oseguera, Alfredo Hernandez whom we nicknamed "Cuauhtemoc" and his partner, Mercedes Uribe, as well as many others whose faces I still keep in my memory but whose names and family names escape me.

They were some of those who started to bring together and organize the seamstresses. The teachers and the students taught us to install plastic awnings to protect us from heat and cold; and who took us to "go can in hand" to ask for help and solidarity to support the group while the employers responded to our claim for compensation or reopening of the workplace. We went to the universities to ask for solidarity, to the Pascual sodas cooperative, to a glass factory; we went to Telefonos de Mexico, to the Mexican Electricians Union headquarters, to the streets.

Several seamstresses kept guard, watching that owners didn't come to carry away the machines, because these were the only guarantee that we had to demand that female workers were compensated in accordance with the law.

But some employers were overly rude and one of them even said that the seamstresses were costing him more alive than dead. And with that statement he stirred the anger of the workers who decided to stand firm in the place and declared, "no one will move us from here", to prevent the owners to carry away the machinery.

I still remember that one of the employers who caused more problems was David Meta. And I don't know if he was of Spanish or Jewish origin, but he was a real slave driver. In addition, and according to the data our teammates of Dimension Weld gave me, their employer named Elias Serur was also a real slave driver who threatened his female workers to put them on a blacklist if they lodged a complaint.

The seamstresses who were in the middle of the debris trying to rescue our companions, we began to identify among ourselves because we had similar needs and we were facing similar problems. That's why later we would say that "our union had emerged out of the rubble".

Initially two groups were formed: the Organizacion de Costureras del Centro which comprised some 600 seamstresses of some eight factories located downtown and which was advised by the members of the group Comunicacion, Intercambio para el Desarrollo Humano de America Latina (Cindhal); and the Union de Costureras en Lucha, which included the coworkers of 15 factories located in San Antonio Abad Avenue and which was advised by the Colectivo Revolucion Integral (CRI) whose members were, among others, Patricia Nava and Guadalupe Benavides, as well as Patricia Mercado, Yan Maria Castro and Alma Oseguera.

As days passed, the advisers of the two groups came to an agreement and decided that, to have more power, the best was to merge those two groups, which later would be the basis to found the union.

October 12: the first big protest march

Almost one month had passed since the earthquake and, as we still hadn't received an answer from the employers or from the Government, we marched to Los Pinos, the official residence of the President of the Republic.

On Saturday, October 12, the day we marched for the first time to Los Pinos, I had already joined the group Union de Costureras en Lucha which was in motion in San Antonio Abad Avenue and, although the labor union was not yet formed, we were making acquaintance with the activist teammates and the lawyers who later would be the political female advisers and the legal advisers of what would be the Sindicato de Costureras 19 de Septiembre.

I remember very well that it was a huge march because many victims of the earthquake were gathered there: the seamstresses, the homeless and many other workers who had also lost their source of employment.

It was the first time I went to Los Pinos and I marched without having the faintest idea that I would be put in charge of the trade union. As many other of my coworkers, I was there individually, expecting to find a solution to my problems. Later, when we were granted the official registration as a labor union and that I was chosen as its General Secretary, in all the meetings I was placed in the front row, along with many other trade union leaders.

When we arrived at Los Pinos, a small commission delivered a list of demands which ended up in the hands of the former PRI member Hilda Anderson Nevares to whom, as the representative of the President, we handed over the documents we had because she was supposed to help solve all our problems. But she never did anything and she only kept the papers.

As a first item, a hearing to speak face-to-face with President Miguel de la Madrid was requested; as a second item, the reopening of the sources of employment and the reinstatement of the workers were requested; in another item, the compensation for workers who no longer would be reinstated was requested; we also requested that financial resources were allotted to establish a reconstruction fund that would allow all victims to recuperate the homes they lost due to the earthquake.

In the specific case of the seamstresses, among the most important items was the request for the registration of the trade union that was about to be created: a union of women, for women and run by women.

When we were coming back from Los Pinos, the seamstresses' consultants invited us to greet the peasants who were at the Zocalo and there I talked to them as a peasant.

From San Antonio Abad to Los Pinos

As the days kept passing without obtaining an answer to the list of demands we had delivered the previous occasion, we decided that on October 18 we would march from the San Antonio Abad metro station to the Angel of Independence monument and from there to Los Pinos, to see the President personally. On that occasion we had a hearing with President De la Madrid Hurtado. I had the opportunity to be there as a member of a commission of about 70 people whose function was to outline the President the problems we were facing in those days.

The consultants decided who would enter to talk to the President. Although I don't remember the names of all because they were a lot, I recall that Cecilia Soto was there; she was the lawyer of the Popular Revolutionary Movement and, besides having very good knowledge, she was a well-balanced person, not as the other advisers who passed their time shouting; there were also Manuel Fuentes, lawyer of the National Front of Democratic Lawyers, and Arturo Alcalde Justiniani, husband of Berta Lujan, who was Comptroller of the Federal District Government; there were also Jorge Viveros, Jose Cardozo, Patricia Nava, Guadalupe Benavides, Patricia Mercado, Itziar Lozano, Isabel Gonzalez, Antonio Martinez and Antonio Alvarado, who taught us about surplus value; but as in the march there was also other victims, there were also Cuauhtemoc Abarca, Alejandro Vargas and Victoria Guillen, among others: they were all the advisers who sat to dialogue and make decisions. I think that they were the ones who chose me to be part of the committee which met with the President. As I already had the opportunity to greet the peasants at the rally in the Zocalo, I think that maybe my participation there caught the attention of the advisers who, in that moment, noticed my ease to speak in public, although I cannot assure it because so far no one had told me "Hey, you speak very nice" or "You screw things up here and there", but I imagine that motivated their decision.

Then, when the commission came out of Los Pinos, the lawyer Soto Blanco asked me to convey my teammates what the President Miguel de la Madrid had told me. I don't remember exactly the words that I used in that occasion, but I still recall what someone told me later:

—First I thought, "Come on, what can that woman Evangelina know about public speaking!" But when I heard her I changed my mind and I said to myself, "Oh, my gosh! She deserves all my respect!"

Exploitation? What the hell is that?

Before the September 19 earthquake, I was not conscious of the exploitation or non-exploitation. For me, 1985 was a before and an after in my life. If the earthquake had not happened, I would still be unconcerned, satisfied with being offered a job and nothing else.

But this tragedy forced me to carry out a tremendous jump: first the workshop in which I was working collapsed, then I became a representative of the union. Today, what employer would hire me after having been a trade union leader who demanded them to pay the seamstresses a fair compensation? No one! They might say: "This is a disturber who will come to incite my female workers to kick up a fuss."

Gone amongst the rubble were the days when the boss came to the workshop to greet us and I felt very pleased and I stopped working for some minutes to go greet him with a hug. At that time I had a different viewpoint about work, that's why I always say that before the earthquake I had no idea of the seamstresses work situation and the word "exploitation" did not yet exist in my vocabulary...

THE 'SEPTEMBER 19 NATIONAL UNION OF THE SEWING, DRESS, GARMENT, SIMILAR

AND RELATED INDUSTRY WORKERS'

Whenever I think about the trade union, the first thing I recall is the banner that a group of painter companions, Casandra, David and Daniel, painted for us. They were three young students of the art school La Esmeralda who called themselves Eyes of Fight. We carried that banner in all our marches and we displayed it at the first solidarity forum which, already as a union, we convened in Cloister of Sor Juana. And there was the reporter Sara Lovera, who always wrote about all the seamstresses issues in a way very close to what was happening.

I remember that in the speech I delivered at that forum, I thanked the support of the youngsters, alluding to the meaning that their banner had for me: it was as if the seamstresses had broken the mannequin reminiscent of a shell that had crushed us, but of which we had finally came out to defend our rights. I said that formerly the seamstresses were like a mannequin that employers handled and manipulated as they pleased: we didn't care if we didn't see anything, we didn't knew if we were or not exploited at work.

'And when the earthquake took place,' I carried on with my explanation of the banner, 'it broke not only the buildings, but it also broke the silence and the mannequin that tied and crushed us. And out of that break came a seamstress who fights for her freedom and her dignity.' I also mentioned the fact that the scissors symbolized that we had at last cut the umbilical cord that linked us with the employers, because we had them deep within our hearts. And the seamstresses also had to cut those ties.

Of course, these are not exactly the same words, but I remember that those were some of the ideas that the banner inspired me, because it was very special for me and I liked it a lot. That was my vision; what I extracted from the images the youngsters had painted.

The banner disappeared for some time and later some teammates recovered it because some rumble transporters were using it to cover their truck. I never knew how the banner had ended on that truck, but the fact is that those teammates recovered it and when I left the Union, members of Ojos de Lucha took it with them.

And I hope this is not considered a claim, because although the banner used to bring me many memories, it was not something of my property. However that banner allowed me to see very clearly what our situation was and how it had changed due to the earthquake.

Situation of seamstresses in 1985

700 thousand female workers in the clothing industry in the country

More than 40 thousand seamstresses unemployed due to the earthquake and in a state of helplessness

50 percent of sewing production in clandestine workshops

51.33 percent of female workers with weekly contracts

18.66 percent of female workers with permanent contracts

73.33 percent of female workers don't know what is a union and its purpose

89.35 percent of female workers are convinced that the employer appoints the union leader

Source: Sara Lovera, in La Jornada, November 7, 1985.

The official birth of the labor union

When, on October 18, we went to Los Pinos, and after President Miguel de la Madrid listened to our problems and our demands for some 25 minutes, he sent us to see the then Secretary of Labor and Social Welfare, Arsenio Farell Cubillas, who he ordered to receive us and analyze the seamstresses' problems in order to reach a just and permanent solution and, furthermore, within the law. During our first meeting with the Secretary of Labor we were informed that the government had accepted all our list of demands.

So the next day, October 19, our legal advisers began to write at top speed the bunch of documents that were necessary to obtain the immediate registration of an independent union since, according to our demands, the President had promised us that we would not be affiliated to any of the existing workers' federations, whose leaders were known for selling the collective contracts, for signing behind the female workers back and for keeping illegal relations with the employers.

Meanwhile, the coworkers belonging to some 42 factories we kept meeting in our provisional offices: awnings and tents set up in San Antonio Abad Avenue. By that time, some 8 thousand seamstresses we were already organized and we had some 84 representatives.

And as our meeting with Farell Cubillas was settled at 12:00 o'clock on October 20, that same day at 8:00 a.m. we met at our camp in order to make up the Executive Committee of the new labor union and thus arrive to the Secretariat of Labor with the official names and the necessary documentation to register the new union of seamstresses.

Election of the Executive Committee

I remember that all of this happened very early, on Sunday, October 20, before leaving to the Secretariat. When I arrived at the camp, the advisers had already in mind a list with the names of the likely members of the Executive Committee.

I was considered in their list, but not as General Secretary. The advisers called several of us who were on their list and informed us the names of those who were considered and for what post. At that moment, someone I don't recall who was it said:

—Mrs. Evangelina Corona has more poise to be the General Secretary of the Labor Union,—and all advisers agreed.

The advisors were discussing among them what was more convenient. Thus, in that moment they also decided that the two large groups of seamstresses we would join the Frente Autentico del Trabajo (FAT) trade unions, because they had already unions in Irapuato, something that was essential because to obtain the registration as a Trade Union at national level we needed at least two entities and the FAT leaders provided us the registers of their unions.

But the big fuss was that as the FAT unions were already unions of operating companies, the female workers of the Union de Costureras en Lucha saw their strength in jeopardy because they had fewer members, we were all victims and we lacked a running company. And the same thing happened with the Union de Costureras del Centro. That was the reason for forming the coalition between the three groups.

The search for a balance between the different groups explains why certain portfolios were already set aside by the advisers of each group. I'm not totally sure, but Cecilia Soto must have been the one who proposed me to be the General Secretary. Then they shifted us again within all the positions of the Executive Committee and eventually the teammates agreed and voted for me.

When we were reviewing the documents, making the registers and drafting the statutes, I never imagined or dreamed that I would end up being the union's General Secretary, and even less that I would remain in that position during three terms, mostly because I had joined the movement several days after my teammates because I had worked during a fortnight at the Contreras factory.

So, now when they ask or tell me that it was me who organized the union, I always answer:

—No way. I was neither the initiator nor the organizer of the union. Indeed, I became its leader, but that's something different. Those who organized everything were the advisers who already knew about fighting and who had had previous experiences.

I neither like to be called leader; I was the legal representative of the trade union and that's all. I hardly talk about the Secretary General position because I consider it a level of too much pomp and I don't like pomp.

Guadalupe Benavides of the CRI was who took my oath as General Secretary of the union and then they asked me to give a speech. I remember much of what I said on that occasion because at the end my fellow female advisers made fun of me.

I mentioned that having accepted to be the union's representative was a burden and a very hard responsibility because it was something totally unknown for me. However, I told my fellow seamstresses that I had accepted the job because I was convinced that the union was coming into being to serve and not to be served. Then I said three words unexpectedly: justice, freedom and responsibility; Then I added that it was a shared responsibility because "the union is all of us, not only its Executive Committee".

Members of the first Executive Committee of the  
September 19 Seamstresses' Union

Evangelina Corona, General Secretary

Substitute: María Guadalupe Conde Dorado

Evelia Bocardo Garcia, Labor and Conflict Secretary

Substitute: Isabel Quintana Trejo

Evangelina Vidales Hernandez, Finance Secretary

Substitute: Alicia Cerezo Martinez

Berta Salinas, Organization Secretary

Substitute: Antonio Velasquez Loza

Concepción Guerrero, Minutes and Agreements Secretary

Substitute: María Mauricio Hernandez P.

Ana Bertha Rodriguez Reyes, Foreign Affairs Secretary

Substitute: Luz Vazquez Martínez

Aldegunda Rojas, Press and Propaganda Secretary

Substitute: Constancia Prieto

Irene Bárcenas Solis, Labor Education Secretary

Substitute: Micaela Reyes Tirado

Elena Galindo, Sports and Entertainment Secretary

Substitute: Guadalupe Rodriguez.

Source: Alfonso Ortega Aguirre, La mujer trabajadora de la industria de la confecci6n de prendas de vestir. Caso de las costureras de mediana, pequeña industria y talleres de la confección en el centro de la ciudad de México, Thesis for the Degree in Sociology, Faculty of Social and Political Sciences, UNAM, 1986.

The registration and something else

After more than 12 hours of talks with Arsenio Farell Cubillas, at 1:00 a.m. the Secretary of Labor and Social Welfare handed me the formal register of the September 19 National Union of the Sewing, Dress, Garment, Similar and Related

Industry Workers.

Although this was considered a great success, because the union registration was achieved in the record time of a few hours, that procedure just marked the beginning of what, according to what Farell Cubillas told us, would be a long and difficult struggle: to fight for the entitlement of some 500 collective contracts of companies that authorities had registered and, on that list, we had to point out which of those companies had faked unions or 'white' unions, also known as protection unions, because they protected the interests of employers.

Some 200 seamstresses or more were present at the meeting with Farell Cubillas, because the union registration was only one of the items of a list of demands in which we asked the intervention of the labor authorities to summon the employers to sit at a negotiating table with us and our advisors, and thus settle the solution for the overall problem of the seamstresses.

During the talks that we had with Farell Cubillas, 6 working commissions were formed to address the most urgent issues: one dedicated to the formation of the union; one that would carry out the establishment of cooperatives and their financing; one that would watch over the experts' appraisal of buildings damaged, according to a list provided by the seamstresses themselves; one that would oversee the reopening of our work places, relocating them within the metropolitan area; one that would seek to determine the responsibilities of those employers who eluded their obligations; and, finally, the commission in charge of issues concerning the Instituto Mexicano del Seguro Social (IMSS) as the institution responsible for supervising the compensations and the payment to the relatives of the trapped female workers.

The Solidarity dolls cooperative business

On October 21st was formally constituted the 'September 19 Mexican Garment Cooperative Society', with a membership of 72 female partners working in three companies of the fashion industry: the Articles of Incorporation of the Cooperative signal the election of Victoria Munive Semoc as President of its Board of Directors.

Although I really didn't have much to do with the cooperative, what I know is that the Secretary of Labor and Social Welfare himself invited the female workers who were fighting for the compensation or the reopening of the workplaces to organize ourselves in cooperatives as a way to improve our situation.

Shortly after the cooperative began producing dolls (I don't know exactly whose idea was it to make dolls, but I think it was seamstress Hortensia Morales who promoted those dolls because she is the one who told me that story) with the purpose of selling them as part of a solidarity campaign in favor of seamstresses and to help disseminate our problems.

That's why initially there were only two models of dolls: Lucha, a tall and skinny doll because she didn't eat or sleep, and as she had a poor life (both economically and in the health, work, care and love aspect) she struggled to overcome these obstacles; and Victoria, who was a chubby doll because she was already eating well, she was already peaceful, she had not an employer putting pressure on her, she was already organized with other coworkers and had improved her living conditions.

The cooperative was founded with the idea that it was going to be a new work experience. The teammates were happy and very excited because now they would not work for the benefit of an employer, but in a project that would benefit the whole group and they hoped all of us would be better.

At first, the concept was very well received and our teammates sold many dolls. They didn't have a fixed price, but rather a voluntary cooperation was asked for them. For example, in several occasions I carried them to conferences which were held outside the country; I no longer remember, but I think I took them to the Philippines to sell them there.

The teammates used to tell me, "Now we are going to work for ourselves". However, problems arouse between them because of issues such as: "How is it possible that someone who was my peer now is going to become my boss? We don't accept that a peer of our same level may know more or may be more able to manage and organize things." The first problem that occurred in the cooperative was precisely when the teammates began to question among themselves:

—And you, why must you be the boss?

When the dolls reached their sales peak, the associates began to have a lot of work, but as it was a cooperative, they no longer had a salary: they shared the profits, after expenses, in equal parts. However some felt that for being all day long in front of the sewing machines they worked more than those walking in the streets and selling the dolls.

Along with these first clashes, the success of the little dolls started to decline; the cooperative began to have economic problems because its income was just enough to cover the costs and to share out a tiny financial support; therefore, some teammates began to despair, and walked out.

In addition to the above, in my opinion the project was ruined when artists intervened and began to change the original designs of the dolls, thinking that in such a way the dolls would recoup their success. Thus, they began to do what I call "inanities" because they made the doll look coquettish or exotic; and although they were designs from renowned artists, the dolls lost their original essence and stop conveying the messages of the first Lucha and Victoria. They became something completely alien to the initial idea and some costed up to one thousand pesos of that time. Who could buy dolls of that price? That's when sales began to decrease and that, ultimately, ended up ruining the cooperative.

There may be people thinking otherwise, but in my opinion the so-called support of the artists ended up damaging the project because the dolls became very expensive. The reproduction of their new designs was very laborious and, as a finishing touch, they no longer had the original meaning. It seems that someone wanted to see the whole matter as a business and it didn't work that way.

I agree that persons like Elena Poniatowska really supported the project. By the way, I admire that woman a lot not only for her writings, but because she has always been a very supportive person with many causes and social movements, and she has helped many people. Now she supports Andres Manuel Lopez Obrador and, to tell the truth, I haven't been able to stay stolid in front of what we believe was a fraud, because Lopez Obrador won the Presidency of the country, that's a fact, and on Sunday, July 30, 2006 I also had the opportunity to talk at the Zocalo. By the actions of Elena Poniatowska, one can see that she is a woman committed to what is happening in the country. She is a very open woman and a very good friend.

Resuming the dolls' topic, the project thrived for some time; they even made up several exhibitions in different places and the dolls were sold well, but then they were transformed into something fanciful and very expensive. I went once to one of those exhibitions and I felt bad because I don't like that someone plays with women's body, and they might be "very artists", but they had converted the small doll in something really exotic.

The cooperative started with 78 associates and ended with only 12. It closed its doors in 2003. It is a pity because although the group already owned a building at 68 Transval Street, it ended being seized.

And that was the fate of many other co-ops formed in 1985, simultaneously to the creation of the Union.

The clashes for the control

As from the beginning it was agreed that the first Executive Committee would last in office six months, when that period came to an end the fight over its control started between the advisers representing the four political groups that had given life to the Union.

May 17 and 18, 1986 were the dates established to carry out the first Extraordinary Congress of the Union, in order to appraise the achievements made so far and to decide if the members of the Committee would remain in our posts or it was renewed completely.

On that occasion, I began to understand that one of our main problems was that the advisers expected that we remained always dependent of them. I lived it personally when they were discussing the arrangements to form the new Committee: "We remove this one because she doesn't suit us and we leave that one."

The truth is that perhaps I wasn't skilled enough to distinguish between the positive and the negative, but what I didn't like, and I say it openly, is that I felt that they moved us as chess pieces.

I remember that at dawn we were still at San Antonio Abad preparing the congress, and the advisers were still discussing among them who and which group was going to keep what, since all of them demanded more places on the Committee, claiming that they represented more factories.

I was impressed by the way they were fighting for places for their female bosses. The situation angered me and I said to all of them:

—What the heck! Are we some chess pieces that you move at your will?

Guadalupe Benavides from the CRI told me:

-To you already consider it another force - and she saw me as other people, but I was really alone by that

—We already consider you another force—, and she saw me as a person from another current, but in fact I was alone because I knew absolutely nothing.

On that occasion the four political groups [the CRI, of Guadalupe Benavides and Patricia Nava; the FAT, of Berta Salinas; Mujeres en Accion Sindical (MAS) of Patricia Mercado; and the Movimiento Popular Revolucionario (MRP) of Cecilia Soto], agreed that I remain as General Secretary of the Union.

When we arrived at the Congress they simply said:

—We're leaving companion Evangelina where she is because she has the representation and she has made a good impression everywhere.

They didn't move me, but they replaced all the others.
However, no one even asked me if I wanted to remain in that post or not, but I thought: "Well, I accept it; we will continue working for the benefit of the guild." But they neither asked the other teammates if they were satisfied or not, if they wanted to continue or not.

Of course, during the Congress each group voted for its own candidates, that I recall very well; then I started to have problems with all the advisers because I didn't fit in any of their groups. I remained as a salt shaker, in the middle, in the post of General Secretary.

For the second period that I lived as General Secretary, there were much more problems with the teammates of the CRI, Guadalupe Benavides and Patricia Nava, who start saying that re-election shouldn't be allowed, but Cecilia Soto Blanco and Patricia Mercado intervened, achieving a consensus in my favor.

The attorney Soto Blanco told the other advisers:

—It's not convenient to remove Doña Eva because her image, her charisma and her presence gives us the opportunity of getting a lot of support.

And thus ended the pettifoggery. Although the teammates at the CRI accepted my second period, as they didn't want me in the General Secretariat they distributed a flyer with a picture where they showed me as Fidel Velazquez, saying that I wanted to go on forever in the Union.

In this book I talk about my experience in the Presbyterian Church.

Just before my third term, which corresponded to the 1989 Congress, once again Guadalupe Benavides and Patricia Nava launched a political campaign against me, resorting to a series of lies in which also incurred Elsa Castellanos: that I was a totally harmful person who had stolen things from the Union, that I had built myself a three-story home with a copper entrance door, that I had a car and a chauffeur... I must still have at home some of their flyers. I never saw again Guadalupe Benavides, Patricia Nava or Elsa Castellanos.

With whom I kept a sporadic contact was with Patricia Mercado, but she distanced because when I was in the Chamber of Deputies I didn't agree with the stance that specific gender policies were passed for women, because I believe that we must all fight: men and women of different ages.

Cooperatives, sentenced to death

All the cooperatives that were created in 1985 and 1986 failed due to the unfair competition from foreign companies that the Free Trade Agreement (FTA) made possible.

If a cooperative is already at a disadvantage against a company because its capital, costs, profits, management are different, when the FTA becomes effective and a lot of junk enters the country, like those pirated Barbie dolls, the situation worsens. If already the usual companies were going out of business, what could be expected of the cooperatives!

Of all the cooperatives founded by seamstresses that I got to know—at least 30—only one that makes diapers is still operating.

The priest and the nun

I remember with great affection a young man who, when he came to work with the seamstresses was about to be ordained as priest and whom at first his superiors didn't want to ordain because they thought he was acting as a troublemaker with the trade union.

He is father Jose Jesus Sigalas who many times invited me to his parish, La Purisima, somewhere in Iztapalapa, so that I could share with people the situations we were living as seamstresses and how the Trade Union came into being.

This priest helped me get and buy the property where the trade union's nursery school functions; he took all the necessary steps to obtain the required funding, and I mention him in past tense because, unfortunately, father Jose Jesus died after a long illness.

Jose Jesus Sigalas was not a priest who only officiated masses, he was a man who got to work inside the enterprises to see personally the situation of the workers; he was a very committed and a very close friend of the working class; his parish was always full of young people; he never raised objections against drug-addicts, prostitutes, or anyone. He received everybody and got along with everybody.

He carried out a very valuable task and I have a good memory of him; he couldn't do more because his time came to an end, but the fact that he went to work in the factories to know first-hand the situation of the workers, satisfies me.

And I can say the same of a nun whose name is Martha Vera.

She also helped me a lot. She was like my shoulder to cry on. When I felt too downhearted, she came and comforted me. She is a great friend with whom, from time to time, I still communicate. Although there's already some time I haven't written or called her, I know she was sent to Argentina and then to Nicaragua. The latest information I had about her is that she took courses in alternative medicine and that she was helping Guatemalan women to overcome the problems they face.

Jose Jesus Sigalas and Martha Vera are two persons who I admire for their commitment, for their dedication, for breaking with the scheme that the Church is only a place to beat your chest in ecstasy. They didn't mind suffering persecutions or abuses; they didn't see those situations as an obstacle to serve their neighbor, the needy. I have them both in very high esteem.

Those who lend us a hand

When Manuel Camacho Solis was a PRI member and Regent of Mexico City—now he belongs to the Democratic Revolution Party (PRD)—he lend me a hand when I went to ask him for help for that nursery school that caused me so many headaches.

And thus I set off a big fuss because the teammates didn't like that I had asked for help a member of the PRI. But I didn't care a damn what party Camacho Solis belonged to, because what I needed was to solve and overcome the situation; I went to ask him for help and he helped me. I will always recognize and thank him for that.

I also have fond memories of that CCH teacher who we nicknamed "Cuauhtemoc" and whose name is Alfredo Hernandez, because other than being a great friend, he was always on the lookout for what we could need. I appreciate more his effort and support that that of my other coworkers.

Regardless of the frictions that we might have had, I also acknowledge the support received from the CRI's members, Guadalupe Benavides and Patricia Nava; they really were ebullient and they were with us in the most difficult moments of the early days. They were advisers who didn't mind having to come in the middle of the night or very early; they always collaborated in whatever was necessary, be it to go 'ask for solidarity' or go here and there. Undeniably, they were very hard-working and committed women, although later they changed their stance towards me. It's a pity, but what could I do.

I leave to the end, but not for being the last, Maricarmen de Lara. She was very courageous and supportive producing the documentary No les pedimos un viaje a la luna, addressing and denouncing the situation the seamstresses lived in 1985, as well as recording both the emergence of the September 19 Union and some of its first battles and successes.

Besides being a great help as a backup of our campaigns in quest of solidarity, that documentary performed a very important function of denunciation by revealing all the wrongdoings that were committed at the time of the earthquake regarding the seamstresses because, regrettably, many of them due to the negligence of the authorities and the greediness of the textile industry business owners.

We used to go with that film to the universities to show the youngsters how the business owners gave more value to assets than to human life. But the documentary also tells the progress of our union, the participation of the seamstresses, the monstrous collusion between authorities and traditional unions to allow the exploitation of our teammates.

No les pedimos un viaje a la luna is also the testimony of women's struggle: how they gather their courage to keep going, to demand, to defend their dignity as women. The film reflects the transformation of women who started to feel that they existed: because until that time the seamstresses we were considered and treated as an object, as another machine. However, since the organization of the union they started to see us as human beings who were hungry, cold and had needs... Awareness started with ourselves.

Salary of a seamstress in 1985

The salary of a seamstress for a 14 hours workday (from 7:00 a.m. to 9:00 p.m., with a 30 minutes recess for lunch) is 800 pesos (of that time), less a discount for each garment that, according to the employer's assessment, is imperfect.

Source: Antonio Acevedo, in Unomásuno, October 9, 1985.

Our first parade as a union

The repression that we suffered May 1st, 1986, date in which workers usually parade grouped in their various labor or trade union organizations, was also registered in Maricarmen de Lara's documentary.

We thought that due to the support we had received from President Miguel de la Madrid and to the fact of being women the authorities would let us freely join the parade. Big disappointment, because it was not so.

That May 1st, honestly, I thought that our seamstresses' contingent with our banner would be able to leave the union headquarters and walk along San Antonio Abad Avenue to the footbridge crossing to 20 de Noviembre Avenue, and finally reach the Zocalo.

And so we began, but when we reached Lucas Alaman Avenue a police blockade prevented us from going forward: they asked us to return to our trade union premises. There was a clash between the consultants and the police, and we told them:

—We are just going to the Zocalo. We are a new labor union and we have the right to march the first of May.

I kept talking with the patrolmen, trying to persuade them to let us pass. But as we couldn't convince them, the advisers suggested us to cross through the footbridge on Lucas Alaman Avenue. So we did, with the idea of walking along Isabel la Catolica Street to reach the Zocalo, but when we got to that street, there were more patrols and motorcycles blocking us the way.

During that skirmish some teammates were hit and this experience helped us realize that not only they had blocked us, but they had treated us as criminals. So, during the following days, when I was invited to speak in public, I recounted the facts and I reported that we had been victims of police abuse.

The advisers

The first differences began to crop up because the advisers wanted me to adhere to what they indicated me I had to say. And I rebelled:

—Why do I have to say that, if that's not what we are going through?

Besides, they used a vocabulary different to mine; they used a foul language which I don't use. I couldn't call President Miguel de la Madrid a son of who knows who, as they wanted me to call him. So, I had no other choice but change such a speech. And although it was true that the President had not done what he should have done as such, I could say that he had failed and that he had committed errors, but that was not a reason to insult him.

I don't know how to explain it, but I could hardly use the same words they used and that triggered the first rifts, because they were accustomed to say harsh words. For example, when we were on a parade, they used to shout "those who don't jump are charros". I never jumped and that didn't turn me into a charro leader.

The detachment began because the advisers wanted me to be part of the same 'ring' in which they were rolling...

I have a very good memory of Yan Maria Castro and of that young girl Alma Oseguera because in addition to always having supported us a lot, they never made me any advance related to sexual preference. Although I don't share their position—I think that God wasn't wrong when he made man and women as complementary beings—I always respected their lesbianism and they respected me, without trying to take me to their ambit.

By contrast, Guadalupe Benavides and Patricia Nava—who were also lesbians and for being partners were called "the Patricias"—, attempted to convince me to try that experience; and Elsa Castellanos insisted many times that if I wasn't a lesbian it was because I had not tried it and because I hadn't met the right person.

Despite those personal differences, I always respected the girls and I even had a high regard of them. But we also started having differences in the political domain; as I had a lot of contact with the people of the FAT, Guadalupe used to tell me:

—Be careful, because they're wolves and they're going to eat you.

And maybe she was right. What the seamstresses could we know of laws and political trends? Now I consider that her concern for me was some kind of maternal protection, because Guadalupe thought and used to tell me that I was very innocent.

But later, when Guadalupe tried to get her people into the Committee and she distributed those fliers in which she compared me with Fidel Velasquez, I changed my position because I considered that she had adopted an annoying attitude and I started to keep my distance.

There were two details, perhaps trivial, but that I still keep in my memory because I learned a lot from both of them: one day Patricia Nava, Guadalupe Benavides and I were riding in their red Kombi. Suddenly, I saw how Patricia turned the steering wheel and hit a car, and when the driver came out of his car, it turned out that he had hit us and they took money from him.

—Hey, Patricia, it was you who hit that man's car.

—Come on Miss Eva, it wasn't me and you saw nothing.

I don't know how much money they took from the man, but we left and, what's more, our vehicle wasn't damaged at all.

The other detail also happened with that red Kombi: as their van had been stolen, they asked me to accompany them to the Benito Juarez delegation to report the robbery. And we went to make the report, but what surprised me was that they never made any attempt to recover their van. And I have the bad habit that when I grow fond of someone, I worry for their situation and their belongings. And it hurt me much that they lost their van and it was me who was asking here and there, but I never saw them somewhat concerned. And, as I already had the prior experience, I started to imagine that there was something odd, but I didn't investigate further.

In short, I felt that, in general, the advisers wanted to retain their hegemony within the movement, as drumming into our head:

—We are the ones who know and you know nothing.

I consider that it was a very negative policy—always making the girls dependent on them—and they wanted to do the same with me.

For instance, there were moments when the CRI's advisers commented me:

—We are going to make the claim of illegal holding of contract.

But they told me so when they already had been talking to the people and then they just asked me:

—Doña Eva, come with us so that we can introduce you to the girls.

Or they placed the claim document in front of me so I signed it, without time to read it, because they were already going to deliver it and without asking me if I was or not in agreement, if I wanted to, if I could, or if I thought it was a good thing. I call that manipulation because they wanted the seamstresses to be always dependent on them; they didn't want us to learn, and that was the usual way of handling things by the ERI's teammates.

However, I could also detect that attitude in Patricia Mercado and Elsa Castellanos, although they acted in a more veiled way, not so openly.

That's why I got along much better with the FAT representative called Berta Salinas. She was the Relations Secretary of the Trade Union Executive Committee, and she explained me everything:

—Look doña Eva, this is like this, and it suits us because of this and this reasons.

We evaluated and talked about the demands that were going to be presented during the contract review with each employer.

The FAT staff always advised me to analyze the financial situation of a company to find out what we really could ask them. It was not just a matter of asking things, as the teammates of the other groups used to do, without caring a damn if the company was capable or not of fulfilling them; and furthermore they wanted to make the same demands to a company with 20 or 30 people or to a factory with 1,100 workers, without considering that the financial capacity of their owners was different.

For some of these reasons, as a union we began to clash with the employers: the demands of many advisers were excessive. Of course, I didn't oppose that we defended the rights of women workers, but we had to know where and how, because I didn't like the employers to rub it in my face that I was defending a woman who had been caught red-handed and who we had to defend because she was a member of the union. That's why I asked the advisors:

—Advise the teammates to avoid committing those mistakes.

Nonetheless, during the assemblies the advisors always instructed the girls to demand their employers more and more benefits, because they had the obligation to give them this and that; but they didn't advise them to fulfill their work. That's how the advisers handled the situation and it was obvious that the teammates took sides for them because, who doesn't want to earn more but doing less?

Over time and with experience, I was able to determine that Berta Salinas as well as Cecilia Soto and Antonio Velasquez were the three advisers who taught us to assess the situation to obtain from the employers improvements for seamstresses.

On the other hand, the other advisers never gave explanations. They just said:

—The employer is obliged to give you the day off because it's your birthday, one day off more; he has to give you a reward for arriving early.

And the employers rubbed it in my face why they had to give awards when the contract clearly stated the time of entry.

They used to tell me:

—The workers are required to get to work in time and it is my will if I grant them an award, but that's not an obligation they can impose on me.

A headquarters office helter-skelter

On December 22, 1985 we took over the plot that would later house the labor union offices. That was the agreement that was reached because we could no longer camp in San Antonio Abad Avenue. The authorities had asked us to clear the street so that traffic and the public transport could be restored, but threatening us that if we didn't move they were going to take us away by force.

At that time the front structure of what had been El Gallito threads factory still existed. I imagine that there are photos of those premises when they operated as a factory.

In my opinion, we couldn't just take over what wasn't ours and so I told the group, but they ignored me and that day the male and female members of the union came, and together with the group of advisors, they occupied the plot by force.

Fortunately that incident didn't triggered a big mayhem because the building was half collapsed and there was still a lot of confusion due to the earthquake. And as there was the argument that we had to leave the street, a black ribbon was placed around the whole plot we had invaded. That was one of the actions that, as general secretary of the union, I had to support although I didn't agree with it.

After an agreement between the union and the Cuauhtemoc Delegation was signed, in which it was established that the seamstresses were authorized to occupy that plot on an interim basis while a definitive plot could be found to build our headquarters, I remember that the legal advisers wrote us the document which we signed with the Delegation, at that time headed by Enrique Jackson.

Later I would find out, by pure chance, that the Cuauhtemoc Delegation had signed another agreement with the owner of the plot, stipulating the payment of a monthly rent so the seamstresses we could remain in that place.

Time passed and the union had about four years operating in that plot when, one day, without notice, the owner appeared and started taking measurements.

—As solidarity it was enough. I need you to give me back my plot.

The owner had reacted because the Cuauhtemoc Delegation, after that time, had ceased to pay him the agreed rent. Then, in the company of the lawyers Cecilia Blanco Soto and Manuel Fuentes, I set out to the delegation to investigate if indeed there was a deed and if the plot had an owner. It was then that I discovered the existence of the other agreement that I mentioned.

However, the other advisory teammates, among them Patricia Mercado, got mad at me and told me that I had nothing to do at the delegation. Their proposal was that we stayed put in the plot, that we instigate the authorities to come to evict us and thus acquire more political power and force them to give us the plot.

I never agreed with that position, because I knew that the land had a rightful owner. It was then that I decided to go see Manuel Camacho Solis because, at other times, he had already gave us a hand to solve some of our problems. I went to tell him that, as there was an agreement between the Cuauhtemoc Delegation and the owner of the land, I asked him to order the delegation authorities to fulfill that agreement so we could remain in that place without having problems.

Years passed, I left the union, but the teammates who remained, with the support of the boys of the Popular High School, continued demanding that that plot was expropriated for their benefit. Eventually, Rosario Robles became the regent of the Federal District Government and she did expropriate the plot, but as it was a huge property, she expropriated it in favor of the Federal District Housing Institute, which built a housing unit on the site, leaving an area in which was erected a monument in memory of the teammates who died in 1985. A two-story building was also constructed there and currently the group of seamstresses who remained with the union; well, now I don't know for sure how they are organized, because the union is already over.

But nobody can deny that, before being expropriated, that piece of land had a rightful owner.

Spy of Gobernacion?

In fact, I never broke one single agreement with the advisers; I only rebelled when I saw that it was

For instance, the union had as a policy to avoid give any kind of information to the people of Gobernacion. And the advisers demanded me to avoid speaking to them, even greeting them. And I had to tell them that I was not that way, that I was an educated person, and that the fact of greeting them didn't mean that I was passing them confidential information of the union: that I kept for myself, because I'm not silly.

What became clear to me is that it was not the people of Gobernacion who was controlling us, maybe I was wrong thinking like I did, but I was sure that our own actions were betraying us.

What could I tell Gobernacion that they didn't know already? That I was going to defend the female workers? That I was going to fight to obtain better working conditions for them? What else could be expected from me, if that was my responsibility?

Of course, I was not going to tell the people of Gobernacion what tactics we were going to use to achieve those goals, but how could the union be harmed or benefited by telling them that we had claimed the ownership of a collective work contract if that was a public act that is carried out in a public office?

The truth is that so far I don't understand why the advisors got mad at me if when I spoke with the people of Gobernacion it was to comment on the general situation of the country. How that could affect them? They were not things of the labor union; I didn't even mentioned the private aid that we received.

And in one occasion they told me:

—The fact is that Gobernacion has already an eye on us and they will be looking at what we do to eliminate us.

However, I used to think that there would be no problem if we did the right thing, but if they discovered us doing improper things, then they would have reasons to wipe us out. I still believe that the law is to punish the guilty, not those who are not guilty. Anyway, that was my attitude and that's what I applied. However, one day, when I still was the General Secretary of the Union, they through me out of the Assembly because according to them I was a spy of Gobernacion. To date I don't know exactly what the advisers wanted, what they intended, what they expected to obtain with those false accusations.

Decline and disappearance of the union

When I left the Chamber of Deputies, I went to visit the lawyer Isabel Moles, who at that time was working in the Local Board of Conciliation and Arbitration, and she gave me the bad news that the September 19 Union had totally lost its registration.

Since the second congress of the labor union, the advisers started focusing themselves in the factories established in Mexico City and rejected the support they had been receiving from the FAT and its company unions in Irapuato, and when they left the teammates of Irapuato out of the September 19 Union, this last one lost its national level registration.

And later, as factories were closing and its workers were paid off, the union was losing more and more members, because according to the statutes which governed the organization, it was established that one of the requirements to be a member of the union and have the opportunity to vote and be voted, was to have a collective work contract signed with company X, and if you didn't have it, you automatically ended being a member of the organization.

In 1991, when I left the union representation and I went to the Chamber of Deputies invited by the teammates of the PRD, I stopped being a legal member of the union because I wasn't working in a factory anymore. Nevertheless, the teammates of some workshops still came to me in search of legal advice, and the owner of the Carnival Company himself still recognized me as the unique legal representative and he didn't accept Mercedes Ramirez, the girl who replaced me as head of the union.

Still in 1997, the girls of the last workshop I used to counsel went to see me at the Secretaria de Desarrollo Social (Sedesol) where I worked as a social promoter, to tell me that all of them had been paid off because the three last Carnival group workshops in Mexico City—Carnival, Rosy Bras and Seducta—had been closed. Between the three, they employed more than a thousand workers. Their owner decided to close them and move his machinery to Pachuca.

It was a gradual disintegration. Many owners chose to pay off the unionized personnel, close their factories in Mexico City and reopen them in some other place with a different name and new personnel. So the ownerships of the collective work contracts went running out and the labor union ended losing its registration.

Membership Statistics of the Labor Union

During its first year, the September 19 Union came to have about 8,000 unionized seamstresses in 40 factories; in 1992, the union had less than 500 members nationwide; 1994, due to the closure of factories, there were only some 250 unionized female workers, so it lost its national registry; and in 1997 it finally disappeared when it lost its whole registry.

My personal assessment

The first thing that comes to my mind is that I still have the satisfaction of knowing that during my three terms—six years in total—as the leader of the labor union, we were able to achieve many things in favor of the seamstresses.

For instance, we signed some collective work contracts which included marvelous benefits that even the legal representatives of many companies considered as something never seen before, not even with the Confederacion de Trabajadores de Mexico, the CTM

Another satisfaction is that during those three terms I took care of all the claims and I didn't miss any of the hearings that, for many reasons, were held at the Local Board of Conciliation and Arbitration. I didn't miss one single hearing and so I can see everyone in the eyes because they don't have reasons to reproach me that I failed in doing such or such thing.

I also have the satisfaction of having created the nursery of the labor union, in favor of which I'm still fighting. I am also proud because nothing got stuck to me: neither the economic resource or the pride of being the "conceited", nor that someone could say, "That woman made off with so many things of the labor union".

The only great bitterness that I still feel is that I was able to realize that there are people very greedy who don't care a damn about their neighbors, but use the movements as a forum to become popular, gain fame, obtain money and support.

For me it was a big surprise to discover the case of several organizations that sought support abroad on behalf of the seamstresses. It was an awful experience because when the foreign representatives came to confirm how much money the seamstresses had received and how many projects had benefited us, my head dropped in shame when they told me:

—It's because we have hundreds of projects going on that we have been funding on behalf of the seamstresses.

For me, it was a huge disappointment to discover that advisers who had been guiding and advising us had also been using us to justify some economic resources they were receiving from abroad. Still worse, many of those projects never benefited the seamstresses.

Did they pocketed the money? It's something that cannot be proven, but, where that money went? At that time those who were advising us were the teammates of the CRI, Patricia Nava and Guadalupe Benavides. What they lived on? How they bought a van which costed me tears when it was lost?

The Cindhal teammates also had a financing that they later renewed in the name of the seamstresses, in the name of women, and similarly acted other organizations. Initially, our Cindhal teammates responded favorably, but when some of them left to create the MAS, things changed drastically.

This is something that I say, I repeat, and I maintain: those clashes between the adviser groups, their discrepancies, their aspiration to be more numerous, were the issues that began to segregate the seamstresses and later caused very strong clashes between us.

And another reason that caused the dissolution of the union was that at some point the advisors were very radical and wanted to standardize the benefits: they wanted to get the same both from a large factory and from a small one. And as the employers felt overly pressured because they didn't have the financial capacity to match their demands, they decided to close their factories and set them up somewhere else.

I don't know if they acted correctly or incorrectly, but the advisers were exceedingly demanding and gave advices which, ultimately, resulted counter-productive.

—If they don't give you what we ask them, then make an active strike or a sit-down strike!

And the employers' answer was:

—This union is crippling us and thus it's not convenient. We have to replace the union or go somewhere else.

And they ended up closing their factories and getting rid of the unionized workers. The September 19 Union was considered a "red" union because one of its main advisers, lawyer Cecilia Soto Blanco was called "the reddish", because she had been formed in the former Soviet Union and, as she followed that ideology, she was also known by the nickname "the Socialist".

And among the owners the word started going round that the September 19 Union was a "red" union which practiced the policy of "all or nothing", and that scared the employers who, as they didn't want to keep dealing with the September 19 Union, managed so that, when negotiating the collective work contract with their workers, these voted for a union that was part of the CTM, and thus the September 19 Union lost the ownership of many of those contracts.

Due to the crisis caused by the FTA, more and more contracts were lost, until the September 19 Union eventually lost its register as such.

Those are the facts as they happened and as I lived them.

LEARNING A TRULY CHRISTIAN LIFE

I never knew how or when my parents became Evangelical. When they came back to San Antonio Cuaxomulco they had already embraced the Methodist religion, which entailed assuming the commitments and the rights that Church requires and offers.

One of the things characterizing the Protestant or Evangelical Church, as many call it, is that we become active members of the Church to which we belong by means of a "confession of faith" in which we accept Jesus Christ as our Savior, as the one and true God, and we accept that we believe in the Bible. This confession is performed in a public way, before the members of the congregation.

I belong to the Presbyterian Church, which also applies this same confession of faith system, in which one accepts as our own the theological mandates of John Calvin, which are based on the Bible and which are those that are handled in the Congregation.

When we were child, we didn't go often to Church because the nearest temple was in the city of Apizaco and, as we had to go on foot, on sunny days it was a two hours walk on the way there and another two hours on the way back. And as we were eight brothers and sisters, we couldn't go all of us one same Sunday, so we had to take turns, and that made us, as children, not very fond of the religious cult. And it was not because we were not believers since, from time to time, pastors came home to perform a religious service: we sang, we read the Bible word and we reflected on what we had heard.

Being only children, we couldn't do much; nonetheless, my parents cultivated in us that religion: the habit of praying before eating and going to bed, and of singing directly to the Lord, instead of going around singing popular songs.

From Methodism to Presbyterianism

When my father died and my mother came to live with me in Mexico City, we both left the Methodist Church and we changed to the Presbyterian Church. We started attending the Nazareth Temple, which is in Canal de San Juan No. 37, in the district called Agricola Oriental.

We changed from Methodism to Presbyterianism because the proximity of the temple was very convenient; we could have gone to the temple which is on Balderas Street, as before we had gone to the one that is in Aztecas Street, which are the two largest and more central Methodist churches of Mexico City, but we decided to become Presbyterians and stay in the Nazareth Temple, which at that time was just a congregation.

It is worth mention that the Presbyterian Church has a Calvinist liturgical life and is organized in categories: the first one, when two, three or four people start meeting and they gradually increase in number, we call it mission; when up to 50 people gather together, that community becomes a congregation; and when there are more than 50 people, considered as heads of the family, who are constant and committed, a church can be established with them.

I want to acknowledge that the Methodists have a more open mind towards women: they have female bishops, pastors and deacons, as well as social work, which the Presbyterians do not have because they have taught us that we don't have to get together with the world.

Although by its openness towards women I would have more affinity with Methodism, due to a mere habit I have preferred to remain Presbyterian: the Church is near my house, and to tell the truth, sometimes I ask myself what do I look for elsewhere if we have already formed a family here: we know and we say hello to each other, and we already identify with each other. Everywhere I go I am the same person and I don't make differences, not even with the members of the Catholic Church; I comment to the brothers of the temple that we cannot discredit the faith of Catholics.

The main differences we have with the Catholics is the issue of the saints and that of the Virgin Mary who, for us, is only the receptacle chosen by God to give life to the Savior. We're also differ because Catholics consider that there's seven deadly sins, and for us sin is sin and that's that; they don't have to be seven or nine, there are thousands and thousands.

On the other hand, Catholics are more manipulative than we are in the Evangelical churches. At least in the Evangelical Church you can read the Bible and interpret it: you may feel if the call comes to your heart. For example, if you read something and that something drives you to analyze a problem, you may find how what you are reading gets related with your life.

Conversely, with the Catholics the priests are the only ones who can interpret the Bible, because you're not granted the ability to do so. To start with, there they minimize you.

Nonetheless, I admit that I've met Catholics of great value, as the priest Jose Jesus Sigalas. I loved his way of being because he used to work with prostitutes and drugaddicts. And I considered that attitude of an immense value; the fact that you don't feel that you'll get "contaminated" if you mingle with them, that you put yourself on their same level, in the sense that other's pain hurts you. I also remember with great affection mother Martha Vera, because in the most difficult moments I could always count on her understanding, advice and support.

There are other Catholics who have made many positive things, such as father Mendez Arceo or father Chinchachoma who picked up the street kids that he found. Or Samuel Ruiz who is another priest who left us a great teaching, because he helped to vindicate the rights of indigenous peoples in the State of Chiapas.

And what happened to them? Some were removed or laid off, another was even excommunicated and they scraped his head to eliminate the holy oils. And why all that? There we should be all believers who say we have a social commitment: with our people, the people who need us.

Pastors tell us that God has given us a boost to defend and fight for others and that we have to be vertical, but I say that we also have to be horizontal, because that's the symbol of the cross: vertical and horizontal. It's not only a matter of carrying a small cross here in the chest; it's not only a matter of leading a vertical, upright, life, and period: we have to do things for others; however, unfortunately they don't teach us that in our churches.

What is faith?

I don't consider that faith consists in thinking about the afterlife or in expecting that an angel will come from heaven to tell you things, as it happened in the case of Mary, when she was revealed the birth of the child Jesus.

In my opinion we must base our faith, first in God, as the Maker of all things and as the Creator of a certain order, and secondly, we must have faith in the fact that, on many occasions, adversities help us to correct our mistakes, to learn how to react and look again for the path we must follow... in the rules of a life in which the pain of others hurts you, in which you do things not because you expect to go to heaven but because inside of you there's something called humanity that you must be willing to share and feel.

There are many things that we misinterpret, and we think that going to the temple or the church is more than enough; however, as Christians our social commitment must be to avoid that injustices are committed, to fight for our rights and defend them, to value ourselves as a human beings. And I don't say this with the idea of being a Puritan, or "prudish" as many call us because we go to church very often; the idea is to assume our responsibility both with the one "above" (God) and with our neighbor.

Religion in the family

My mom gave my daughters a theological and humanitarian education. Fortunately, my daughters have been very participative in the Church to which we belong.

For instance, both Maheli and Janette have participated as teachers in the Sunday school; there they have taught children, young people and adults the stories of the Bible and how to live a Christian life. And when they were little girls, at the end of the year both of them acted in plays and pastourelles.

We were in the church because we wanted to study, to listen, to see and analyze what the Bible says concerning our daily life.

Of course, I can't deny that in the Presbyterian Church there has been a sexist pattern according to which the pastors base their teachings that woman must be subject to her husband and must not raise her hand against him because he is the head of the family. And that's how woman is minimized and man is enhanced.

However, on a personal level I never had such an experience because at home there was never a husband, neither on my part nor on that of my mom, because after she became a widow she never married again. In my house there was never a man and, therefore, my daughters had the example of two women who were and acted as head of the family.

The earthquake: the awakening to a truly Christian life

Although I have never refused to be of assistance to people and I have always tried to be helpful to others, because that's what my parents taught me, at the Church level I wasn't that way.

But when the earthquake struck and I took over the responsibility of a large group of people, my involvement became broader; it wasn't anymore only what I could achieve personally. Then I got mad because the Church—and here I am referring to all the churches—which should be the first to put into practice its commitment with society, looking for Justice, didn't set in motion to act according to its preaching.

When I went to high-school premises, to the "CCHs", and to universities to share my testimony, because they were not lectures or papers, I said to the students:

—You are already one step ahead. You have more academic knowledge. So, now it's your duty to go and teach those who don't know.

And that's also my stance within the scope of the Church: if I already know what the real Christian life is, I must share that experience with others. We have to unite and act more together, not just individually.

Since the 1985 earthquake, not only I rebelled, but other brothers also rebelled and joined the protest marches. Before that, when did we participated in a march? Never! So, that was a breakthrough, principally here at the Presbyterian Church.

I was the first one, but afterwards the sisters and brothers of the Church joined the battle. But those actions began after the earthquake and after my involvement in social assistance, because before that, within the Presbyterian Church scope something similar had never been carried out.

The earthquake helped me to understand what the social commitment is and that's when I clashed with pastor Willbert Tzul Trujeque, who was appointed in my temple at that time. I told him that our church should live committed to society, to people who suffer, to people who have economic, social and moral problems.

Many years later, and concerning the armed uprising in Chiapas in January 1994, some of them used to tell me:

—Oh, I hope that true Christians are not meddled in there.

—Well, we should be ashamed that others carry out our work.

In this context, I consider shameful that others take the lead, when we, as a Church, as Christians, we have the explicit obligation to support and reclaim the citizens, the people's right to justice. And it's not because I like weapons; my idea is not to grab a gun and, bang, bang, bang, kill people. That's not my point, but rather to reclaim our right to fight against injustices... Unfortunately, sometimes the social causes or movements are used as a pretext to obtain a personal benefit.

And when I say these words, I think of Marcos' new stance: we are already aware that his interest was not only to defend or reclaim the rights of the Chiapas native people; I imagine that he was also looking for power, a space, a place where he could be recognized, right? Unfortunately, many of us, including me, we idealized him; nonetheless, I recognize that at the start, despite the big and real armed clashes, Marcos' intervention was positive because he highlighted the problems of the Chiapas native people.

But let's go back to the faith issue. We are experiencing episodes where there's no difference between the believer and the nonbeliever. And sometimes the nonbeliever behaves with a better conscience than the believer. And we see that every time, in small and big things. The difference lies in the commitment we adopt, the responsibility with which we act and the integrity with which we live.

Religious life and labor union

My religious beliefs never interfered with my union life or with the decisions I had to take in my capacity as General Secretary of the union.

Nobody ever told me:

—Careful, Evangelina! You're mingling your Christian beliefs with the union!

I never had a hint in this regard. The first thing the advisors taught me was that the trade union life is completely divorced from any religious cult or political party:

—You cannot corporatize neither on favor of one side nor on the other.

And since then, those words were etched in my memory: "Corporatization Forbidden". Never, in any of the union-related decisions that I had to take, the religious aspect turned up, but rather the respect for others. When I examined a problem, my starting point to decide on one or another solution was always to assess the way it do could affect such or such group or person.

When we summoned to a protest march, the advisory teammates suggested us to penalize with an economic discount those who didn't show up. I never agreed with that. Why should we penalize them economically? Within the union, all participation was voluntary, not forcibly.

That's why I had my first clashes with the advisors. The monetary support distributed among the members was very small because the union had no money. I used to go home with 70 pesos a week and a box of provisions. Of course, as we received provisions, each member of the Executive Committee took home one of such boxes and 70 pesos and the rest of the unionized teammates were only given a box, although somehow more complete. So, on top of that, how could the union discount them money? I didn't consider that was fair.

Sometimes, the union advisors went on their own to see the owners of active factories to request them to deduct one day's salary to those union members who hadn't turn up at a march... I never agreed with such a measure and this was one reason of our clashes.

And when I had to face that situation, I never mingled my religion; I simply considered that what the advisers asked the owners was an injustice. And on more than one occasion when the advisers went to see the owners to ask them for those discounts, I had to contradict them:

—No ladies, there's no reason to discount the seamstresses any money. The seamstress' work is already an exhausting job...

Because one has to take into account that the girls just earned the minimum wage, sometimes only a little more than the minimum, and very often not even the minimum; and still deduct them one day's salary? It was then when I voiced an emphatic "no".

—In this case what we have to do is to convene all the girls, and those who can show up, welcome; and those who cannot, more's the pity. But it has to be something voluntary.

I didn't want to march with a forced army:

—I don't mind going with only 20 teammates, as long as those 20 show up by their own choice, conscious of what we are doing.

X. ECCLESIASTICAL INCONGRUITY

If the Nazareth Presbyterian temple history were examined, we would find that most part of its activities have been carried out by women, including those performed at La Perla mission and even the construction of the church.

However, at the executive level everything has been managed by men: when the Church is integrated and the Consistory—the governing body of the Church consisting of the ruling elders and the corresponding Minister or Pastor—has to be appointed, only males are chosen because they were, so we were told, "those who more responded", and because, I insist that this was what we were told, "women could not be chosen".

For a long time, the Consistory of the Nazareth Church was only composed of men, until in 1995 I broke that male custom: I was ordained "Elder" and thus could be part of the Consistory. However, the hierarchy of the Presbyterian Church didn't allow me to exercise the office of Elder and I was dismissed,  notwithstanding that the members of the local church to which I belong had voted accepting that I had that responsibility.

The pastor in charge at that time, Leopoldo Cervantes, was one of the first to argue that it was not fair that the Presbyterian Church didn't recognize the work performed by women. It was then when he said:

—And how is it possible that sister Evangelina, being a deputy, cannot be recognized in her own church?

And many brothers and sisters accepted the idea that I could be a female Elder. The polling in which I was elected took place in 1994, a little before I left the Chamber of Deputies and after I took a few courses and I passed the corresponding exam: Pastor Leopoldo ordained me in February 1995.

Those who discriminate against women contradict the Bible

I've rebelled and I dare to say that for their own convenience the hierarchs of the Church put into God's mouth words that He didn't say.

It is false, for instance, that God ever declared that the ecclesial stewardship or leadership should only be in the hands of men. So much so that in the Bible we have the case of Deborah who, besides being a Priestess, was also a judge; or Ana's case, who also was a priestess. Thus, asserting, as they did, that here in Mexico the Presbyterian Church could not have women as Elders was as considering dead letter all those activities that many women performed in ancient times. What happens is that sometimes humans we cling to something as a way to justify our facts.

But the Bible is clear and puts things in place. Jesus, for example, claimed the rights of women and children who were not taken into account; He was always surrounded by women, as the sisters of Lazarus, Martha and Mana; Marie Magdalene and the wives of the Apostles. There are many other examples in which Jesus clearly breaks down the patriarchal and hierarchical structures.

Nonetheless, our Church hierarchy now doesn't admit it or accept it; they think that only they, as men, can perform certain things. However, what we have seen in all areas—religious, practical, at work, in the popular representation—is that woman has had a huge self-improvement and an increased involvement, while, in contrast, the presence of men has been declining more and more due to their irresponsibility, their failure to fulfill, their noise of talking and nothing more.

Rebelling against male chauvinism

We continue fighting so that woman is respected and given the place she deserves, i.e., a treatment equal to that given to men.

That's my point of view and my conviction. I really deem unbelievable that males keep wanting to remain the only leaders. That's why the Presbyterian Church has minimized women in every way, based on a so-called spirit of the Bible.

When it comes to defend the supremacy they want to retain, the males usually tell us:

—It's because God said that man must be superior to woman.

Sure thing! But when it comes to responsibilities, it's the woman who has to assume them.

For example, the Bible says specifically that the father is responsible for raising his children and the one who must look over them. But I want someone to show me that dad is close to his children to keep an eye on their education; oh yeah, for those things men are less, they wash their hands, and that responsibility falls on women. On the other hand, for men there are bars, billiards, cinema, theatre... but not for women, because women's obligation is to stay at home and look over their children. For me, that's a very subtle way of minimizing women.

The commitment to serve

The Presbyterian Church holds congregational meetings or assemblies in each local church to elect its leaders or elders. Each local church must have a Consistory composed of at least five Elders who, along with the Pastor, take the decisions regarding the operation and the future of the Church. The Elders' last three years in office, but they may be reelected for another equal term.

At that time, in my Church the term of some brothers was about to end because they had already been re-elected and could not remain in office. That's why the local Church issued a call to appoint new Elders and that's when I was proposed to be included in the list of candidates for the Consistory, along with other brothers, so I had to take a training course.

Later, during the congregational meeting, the voting was carried out and I obtained 75 percent of the votes. The corresponding minutes was prepared and in that same document it was established that I would take the course sometime later because my responsibilities in the Chamber of Deputies prevented me from taking it at that moment, a situation that was accepted.

Anyway, when there was someone giving the training, whenever I could I went to those courses, although my activities in the Chamber hadn't finished yet. There I learned how to present the message of the Bible, what is the Christian life, the Acts of the Apostles, the Catechism... in short, all the themes that they teach us.

I was lucky enough to have pastor Leopoldo Cervantes not only teaching me all that, but also pointing out how I should assume my Elder responsibility to help people in need. If there's a disease and the family members of the ill person ask you to go visit them to pray or to give him/her a word of encouragement, you must go and see what they need; if someone is going through a labor conflict, you have the obligation to listen to him/her, advise him/her and keep track of his/her needs.

Pastor Leopoldo began to instill in us the notion that we had the obligation to defend those who have less. Some of the brothers didn't agree with this kind of teachings because, as Elders, they were used to be obeyed by everyone without objections. And here instead, pastor Leopoldo was teaching us that, as Elders, we had to serve the community, which is our local Church.

The Pastor switched the roles and many parishioners didn't like that. Nonetheless, those who took the exam and passed it we were ordained by him as Elders, with the mindset that, besides living within the four walls of the temple and sing beautifully, we also had to serve others.

The sanction

I was ordained in February 1995 and I remained being an Elder about a year and a half; during that period I took charge for three months of the mission that we have in La Perla, in the municipality of Ciudad Netzahualcoyotl.

However, after my ordination the Presbytery convened some meetings in which they decided to request me to declare publicly that I would be committing a mistake by accepting my ordination. I didn't accept their request.

The hierarchs rejected my appointment because the Constitution of the Presbyterian Church doesn't authorize the ordination of women, given that, according to them, it is an exclusive right of men.

The Presbyterian Church structure is more or less the following: the local church that has its Consistory; and then several churches form the Presbytery; and then five, six or seven presbyteries form a Synod; and then the synods form the General Assembly which constitutes the ecclesial authority of the Presbyterian Church.

So, picking up my case: the members of the Consistory of my Church agreed that I had been ordained as an Elder; the Presbytery turned half a deaf ear and half a blind eye to the matter; and, in the end, when the issue reached the General Assembly, they swept the members of the Consistory and questioned them for having allowed my ordination and they told them off.

The ultimate consequence was that the case was returned to the local Consistory to tell us off and sanction us. The Presbyterian hierarchy considered my ordination as a rebellion and, as an immediate consequence, they decided to eliminate the Consistory and dismissed all the Elders. As the local Church was left without a head, it was also demoted to the category of Congregation.

As we ceased to be a Church, we had to bring an official Pastor from another church to celebrate the Holy Supper, weddings, baptisms and any ceremony that would be performed in the temple.

At that time, Pastor Leopoldo had left our local church because he had already completed his term, and the sanction they imposed on him was to stop assigning him another church because he had ordained a woman. I think that he is currently working in an area of the SEP where they correct textbooks. Fortunately, Leopoldo found that work; he is a very young Pastor who gives life to several local churches, although he's not officially commissioned or assigned. Any church can invite him and that is permitted.

The sanction was something so surprising and unexpected for the community that it did not react or made anything about it. I think the local church failed to act, because if they had said, "Brothers, our local church is autonomous and we can ordain female pastors, deacons or elders", the situation would have been different. However, no one moved or voiced a disagreement.

Later, when they found out what had happened, many parishioners were so disappointed that they suggested we leave the Presbytery and become an independent church whose rights and decisions would be respected. In fact, several brothers abandoned the Presbyterian Church.

Finally, after some time, they gave us back the category of Church and reinstated the Consistory as a form of government of the Nazareth Church. But neither I, nor the other Elders who were ordained with me, were reinstated in the positions for which we had been elected.

The current Consistory of the temple is made up of males only and, in my case, I'm still in the Church; I haven't left it because I consider that I didn't made something that could deserve my departure. Besides, there's my place.

One more topic concerning the Church

Currently, I have no specific commitments; I am one member more of the Church; but anyway I think it is important to continue studying. I learned that from Presbyter Leopoldo Cervantes who trained me to take the office of Elder.

—Imagine that it is like a banquet. The owner of the house is the person who attends the guests, not his friends or his neighbors; he is the host—, Pastor Leopoldo used to tell us.

An Elder has almost the same rank as a Pastor; the only thing differentiating them is that the Elder must be ordained so that he can have the authority to break the bread at the Holy supper, and to officiate baptisms, weddings and other celebrations. But the Elder of the Church must visit the sick people, the widows and the orphans, and bring them what they might need, be it food so they can eat, a doctor to check them up, drugs to restore their health... That's their duty. It doesn't consist in giving orders and tell other people what they have to do. No, no, no... But this teaching has been recent, with the last Pastors.

Previously, the Pastors restrained themselves to tell us "don't smoke", "don't drink", "don't dance", "don't go to bed with any woman or any man", "keep a good relationship with God, obey him, and never see around you because the world is not your place, don't be infected"...

Definitely, I think there's some very close-minded Pastors who exaggerate things by saying, for example, that the Catholic Church is a pagan and that we must not relate with Catholics.

On the other hand, Pastors such as Leopoldo Cervantes teach us that we are all Christians and that we are all creatures and sons of God, some in one way and others in another way, but we all seek that relationship with God and as long as we keep it so we are true believers and, therefore, children of God.

THE SHADOWY AREAS OF POLITICS

As I pointed out before, as a result of the earthquakes I happened to be part of the Commission that stressed the needs of the seamstresses and the victims to President Miguel de la Madrid Hurtado.

First we were told that the President could not receive us because he was resting. And as we said that we would not leave until we could speak with him, minutes later he came to listen to us. That day I said to the President:

—Well, we as seamstresses, we voted for you and now you don't even want to receive us.

When I realized that I could really say things to the President himself, and when I lived the experience of seeing him seated next to me, I told my teammates:

—Now I understand that the President is not on the Moon and that he is not out of reach. He is a being of flesh and blood just like us and, as human beings, we are the same. We don't have to see him up.

Before that I used to think: When a seamstress might be able to say: "I will greet the President!" if he came close; or "Wow! How wonderful to greet the President!"? But, what does the President has? What's the difference between him and me? Nothing but the clothes, because he was very elegant and I wore my cheap sweater, isn't it?

But I only realized that when I lived that experience, when I saw him close to me, with all the defects and limitations of a human being.

I have always acknowledged that participating in the foundation of the September 19 Seamstresses Union and run it was for me the awakening of an unawareness, as going out to another world.

I also stated it that way in my church when the Pastor in office at that time called my attention for being involved in the Union, telling me:

—Evangelina, you're swapping the most for the least.

—And, what is the most and what is the least?—I answered him.

Now that I think about it, I realize that I started to live a truly Christian life when I started taking care of the problems of others.

That was also my awakening on the political aspect, because I was able to appreciate and value that the PRI—that was ruling and had ruled for so many years—was only an imposition. Such an awareness made me change of ideology and look for other alternatives.

Thus I made the decision of neither belonging to the PRI nor to the Partido de Accion Nacional (PAN); now I am a member of the PRD, although I'm not chained to it. Maybe I should not belong to any party because it infuriates me that they only interchange the same old politicians in order to gain certain posts, without being truly interested in the people. That angers me and I reproach all political parties for it.

A seamstress in the Chamber of Deputies

Before I used to say:

—It's ludicrous: A seamstress going to the Chamber? You must be pulling my leg, or what's up?

But when I entered the honorable Congress of the Union and I could see that there were other gentlemen deputies who didn't move a finger despite having more knowledge than I, because they were intellectuals, academics, lawyers, doctors, who knows from how many other professions, I asked myself, what's the use of all that background? In the end they ended voting as they were ordered by the politicians higher positioned in their parties.

I remember that when we were voting the Free Trade Agreement, I told them:

—Listen colleague deputies, don't be yes-men.

And the PRI members answered me:

—We are not yes-men.

And I told them again:

—How can you say you're not yes-men if what you do is pure verticality and nothing else? You can't move to any side by yourselves; that's why you were born from the PRI and its hand-picking procedure.

And, unfortunately, we are going through a period when, for example, those of the PRD are behaving just like that. For this reason I repeat to myself that I'm not chained to any party, to any church, or to any group. I believe that each person can support the causes he or she believes in. Perhaps this way of thinking means that I already became very individualistic.

I became a PRD Federal Deputy without competing for that position because I was named a plurinominal candidate. The competition was internal, inside the PRD; we won with 80 votes within the district we were assigned: the 28th which was in the Azcapotzalco Delegation.

My running mate in the Chamber was Rosalio Hernandez Beltran. Initially, I was going to be Rosalio's running mate, but during the PRD Congress which held the election, a female teammate proposed to reverse the ticket and put me as holder and him as running mate. It was an internal decision, and this was how I got my seat in the Chamber of Deputies.

My first "pratfall"

The first pratfall I committed, the worse of all, and the one I will surely regret, is that I agreed with Rosalio Hernandez that I would give him 50 percent of my salary as a deputy and that at the middle of our term in office we would swap positions: he would become the holder and he would give me 50 percent of his salary, because I was going to be his running mate.

That was my first mistake at the Chamber of Deputies: to believe that things had to be in a certain way because that was the way they were usually. After giving him half of my salary for more than one year (at the time I received eight thousand pesos a month, which for me were a fortune because I never imagined that sometime in my life I was going to earn that amount), I decided I was not going to give him more money. And when I disclosed him my decision, supposedly to feel lesser hard the change, he told me:

—Then help me paying the two thousand pesos monthly rent of my apartment.

And since then he just sent his secretary to collect the money.

But I decided to stop giving him money because, in addition to the four thousand pesos that I was giving him, he was named advisor in the Chamber and for that job he had a salary and, besides, he collected money for the advice he provided the Union girls. I thought it was not fair that while I was cutting in half my income, he was receiving money from all sides; I considered him unfair and I also listened to the words of my daughter Janette:

—Mom, he is not staying awake as you are. You are working yourself to death and you spend your time having tantrums at the Chamber. And, him? Nothing of all that! Why do you have to keep giving him half of your income?

Those words of my daughter made me think and react. And when I decided to stop giving him money, he still sent me a note telling me that he had not asked me to sign a document because he considered me respectful of agreements, but that I had failed him because our verbal agreement had been that we would work half time and half time. Anyway I won his breaking-off and he even stopped greeting me.

A "typical" day at the Chamber of Deputies

When I worked as a seamstress, I used to arrive to my workplace, turn on my over machine and start working: it was the same every day and it was rather monotonous.

However, I cannot state that in the Chamber of Deputies there were days like that. On the contrary, we always had a different program and schedule of activities: when we had no parliamentary sessions, we used to work in committees, attend the appearances of different public officials or receive citizens asking us for guidance or support to solve the problems they came to expound us.

Although we were usually summoned at 9:00 or 10:00 in the morning, there were days when we didn't leave the legislative premises because we spent the night there, debating. Sometimes we had breakfast with an organization or we had to go to some forum to elucidate an issue. Or we simply discussed the typical issues of the legislature with our party colleagues: those of the Partido de la Revolucion Democratica, the PRD.

One of my good intentions that I fulfilled to the letter was to arrive always on time; sometimes the Chamber was still half empty when I was already there, looking for my colleagues; but more than greeting the deputies, I used to greet the hostesses and the service personnel.

Although at that time some deputies didn't show up at the sessions and only half of the seats were occupied, there was always a quorum to dialogue; absenteeism was not as high as the one we could see in 2006... and its consequent delay on the legislative performance.

Usually, the sessions in the Chamber started at 10:00 a.m. and the first thing we did was to take attendance as if we were at the school, "present!", "present!", "present!" Once the quorum was confirmed, the agenda was announced and the list of speakers was opened to determine how many deputies per party signed up to discuss some topic from the stand.

The discussion became more intense especially when it was a reform to the Constitution. I must say that at that time (the LV legislature which ran from 1991 to 1994, during the Presidency of Carlos Salinas de Gortari), many constitutional reforms were made; I don't remember the exact number, but it was much more than a hundred.

The sessions had a recess at lunchtime, between two and three o'clock p.m. I usually had lunch in the dining room of the Chamber, where the meal was free for the deputies (by the way, as that was a time period of great savings and hearty meals for me, I gained a lot of weight). However, there was also a woman who came to sell us food, and sometimes I bought her some and I ate in the office together with my colleagues of the PRD team. After the meal, we returned to the Chamber and sometimes the sessions stretched on a lot and I could leave the premises at 9:00, 10:00, 11:00 p.m. or even 12:00 a.m.

I remember particularly that all the Secretaries of State made their appearances in the plenary hall of the Legislative Palace; however, when it was the turn of Manuel Camacho Solis, who at that time was Mexico City's Regent, he was received in the Salon Verde, a smaller room. As I was also nosy in that issue, I questioned my colleagues Deputies on the reason for those differences: why the Secretaries were received in the large hall and not so the Regent. I used to tell them:

—We must be even with all the public figures who come to appear before the Chamber.

That was the king of arguments that I had.

On the other hand, even though all the Deputies were assigned a private workplace, I had to share a cubicle with Deputy Othon Salazar Ramirez; although we belonged to different commissions, I got along very well with him and when we coincided we talked on various topics.

As a member of the LV Legislature, I was part of the following commissions: Federal District, Social Security, Work and Social Welfare, and Cooperative Promotion, this last one being the one that worked more assiduously: during breakfast we discussed most of the issues because almost always we were summoned between 8:00 and 9:00 a.m. I also participated unofficially in the Sports Committee.

An open-doors policy

As a personal rule, I practiced an open-doors policy so that anyone could approach me to ask for information, support or anything that they might need. It was an office that never closed its door. Nor I had the habit of asking: "What party you belong to?", or "Who are you looking for?", or "Why are you looking for such person?" I always tried to act under that principle.

I can't say that I was a role-model Deputy because my knowledge was limited and in the Chamber there were other deputies much more knowledgeable than I; intellectuals with whom I could not compete. The only element that I had to compete was to build always on my reality.

When I took the floor, I spoke about my own experiences, as I had done it before with the peasants. In the Chamber I also tried to speak always from the point of view of a struggling human being who leaves home early to face that day's circumstances, as do thousands of male and female Mexicans.

Another commitment I took on was to never miss any of the plenary sessions or any of the working meetings of the committees; I only failed to attend sessions when the working meeting of one Committee overlapped with the working meeting of another; but it never occurred to me say, "Today I'm not going because I don't feel like going to the Chamber".

Without any make-up

My participation at the Chamber of Deputies increased my presence in the press, it gave me the opportunity to appear more frequently in the newspapers and to be more often in front of the television cameras.

And then they told me:

—We have to make you up so that your face doesn't shine in front of the cameras.

But I always refused, I never accepted any make up.

If I had never painted my face, I wasn't going to do it just because I was going to be on television. I think it's something artificial.

Due to so much practicing and rehearsing how to speak in public, politicians become rigid, wooden, they lose their naturalness. I prefer spontaneity, naturalness, to appear without make-up in all senses.

Listen, why don't you become a Senator?

When I left the Chamber, someone told me:

—Colleague, why don't you apply to the Senate or the Assembly of Representatives?

My answer was forceful:

—I can't. I must finish one thing before I start the next one. Otherwise, you leave everything halfway.

I used to bet and I was sure that Andres Manuel Lopez Obrador would run for President only at the end of his term as head of Government of the Federal District. Unfortunately, he didn't wait. I would have liked him to finish his term and then get into the presidential campaign brawl; but no, they forced him to go on leave and thus he left halfway the project he had been working on.

That's precisely what I didn't want to do when I left the Chamber of Deputies; perhaps if I had competed I would have lived a new experience because at that time, the previous six years term of office, the PRD had won almost all the Federal District delegations. Maybe I would have been named to the Senate or the Assembly of Representatives, but to start something before having finished something else, for me that smells nothing else but greed.

That upsets me and I criticize all political parties for it, but harsher the PRD because if we have been looking for a change, it is not conceivable that we resort to the PRI's old habits. Thus, why so much blah, blah, blah, if we end doing today what we criticized so strongly yesterday?

A nasty taste in the mouth

The LV Legislature left a nasty taste in my mouth because during the course of its term several constitutional reforms were passed with which I didn't agree, and although together with other deputies I voted against the amendments to articles 3, 27 and 130 of the Constitution, as well as against the reform of the Social Security Mexican Institute Act, all were approved by an overwhelming majority.

I had the chance of witnessing personally how the presidential verticality operates. That was the last straw for me: Unfortunately, the PRI's majority, corrupt and submissive, didn't accept to change an iota to the initiatives of President Carlos Salinas de Gortari. I am fully aware that the reforms that were passed during his mandate were to the detriment of the people of Mexico.

In my opinion, none of these reforms was positive: I witnessed the entry into force of the NAFTA that has also been dramatic for the country. I don't see it has any advantage for us.

But what hurt me more and that I just couldn't accept was the reform to article 27 of the Constitution. I consider that it was an attack on the Mexican people, especially the peasantry who formerly could, somehow, assign or give up the rights of his plot of land to his wife or grown-up daughters or sons. And now, with the reform they passed, the peasants can sell their ejidos before they die and thus leave nothing to anyone, not even to their children. For me that was very serious, because we went back to the landlords' era, because now those who can buy are those who have money: a poor will not buy to another poor. It is something I was totally and openly at odds. But the members of the PRI were the majority and I couldn't do anything about it.

In short, being a deputy was a disappointing experience for me. I deem that work at the Chamber of Deputies is a farce, is a complete waste of time and of money that comes from the people. The deputies are disguised economic looters because, how much money pockets a deputy? And as there are 500 of them, it is a lot of money, because they already outdid themselves with the salaries they assigned themselves, and all that to end up passing reforms having harmful effects on the people, as those we saw during the legislature of which I was part.

But on the other hand, I also keep the experience that we must not underestimate ourselves. For example, I already told you that at the beginning I asked myself, "How can a seamstress enter the Chamber of Deputies?" For me, the Chamber (at that time, before being part of it) was as the wonder of the world, something incredible, unattainable; it was like aspiring to touch a star in the sky. But when I arrived and I saw that more than anything it is a real dirty mess, I lost all desire to repeat the experience. Openly and with all the cynicism of the world, a deputy told me:

—I come to collect and vote.

Does that man ever took the stand to speak before the Chamber? To defend a project? To present an initiative? That's the way they are: they vote because they're paid to vote for "X" or "Y" project. After I left the Chamber, I was informed that the PRI's deputies had receive 10 thousand pesos per vote, when President Carlos Salinas de Gortari initiatives were approved.

We will not let you win: A warning fulfilled

During the 1993 election campaign, the PRD launched me as its candidate for the municipal presidency of Ciudad Netzahualcoyotl in the State of Mexico. Soon after, the guys of the PRI told me:

—We like you very much Evangelina, but we are not going to let you win; and even less because you're contending for the PRD. If you want to win, you'd better join the PRI and then we may give you a chance.

They also told me that Netzahualcoyotl was a municipality too big for me. (By the way, I write "Netzahualcoyot", without an "l", because the priest Leopoldo Cervantes Ortiz taught me that "Netzahualcoyot" means "hungry coyote", the one that doesn't eat for being poor, for lacking something to eat. Whereas "Netzahualcoyotl", as it is commonly written, means "coyote in fast", the one that doesn't eat willingly. And for me the choice of how to write "Netza" is obvious: the inhabitants of the Nezahualcoyotl do not eat because they're poor, not because they like to fast.

But picking up the thread of the people of the PRI, I refused their 'invitation', telling them that the PRI wasn't dependable, reliable. Because I was infuriated by the verticality the Deputies of the PRI used to behave in the Chamber. They didn't care if the people was harmed, if the order came from the President... The fact is that they insisted that I joined the PRI and I always refused.

Initially I didn't belong to a party because one of the things that I was taught in the Union of Seamstresses was: no religion and no political party.

—You must be neutral to let your associates cast their votes freely for any person they want and to believe in what they want to. Here corporatism is not allowed.

Despite all the warnings, I opted for the PRD and I decided to stand for the mayoralty of Ciudad Netzahualcoyotl. And as I had to go knocking at every house, I was able to ascertain the sympathy that people felt for us.

When we finally got the results of the polls, as it was to be expected, the PRI's Carlos Viñas Paredes won. But when we got the hard figures of the election, it was totally absurd that he had surpassed me with almost 100% of the electoral register.

In the final count the PRD reached more than 44 thousand votes and the PAN came in third place; I don't remember with how many votes. I was already aware that they were not going to let me win and that gave me still more reasons to tell Viñas:

—You know very well that if you had played fairly you wouldn't have defeated me. Your votes were inflated.

—How do you say that? —he answered me.

—I know that my votes were legitimate: neither from people bussed in nor bought off. If you would have defeated me by a credible percentage, I would have congratulated you with all of the bows that you deserved. But with all those votes that they say you beat me, I mistrust the whole procedure.

I can only insist that I knew beforehand they were not going to let me win. I say it openly because those were the words of the PRI's deputies Fernando Lerdo de Tejada and Fernando Roberto Ordorica Perez, the deputy of Metepec, State of Mexico.

They told me so very clearly:

—We will not let you win: Netzahualcoyotl is too big for you... And the less you're going to win because you belong to the PRD.

That's how I lost the election for mayor of that municipality of the State of Mexico in which I live since at least 35 years ago.

And I mess things once again

When my term at the Chamber of Deputies came to an end, I received a settlement payment in the amount of 65 thousand pesos. With that money I was able to refurbish somehow the house and buy my furniture. Now I live hand to mouth...

The mistake I've committed a lot of times is to believe in persons, whether sentimentally or economically, or simply for trusting them.

When I was a federal deputy, many came up to me to borrow money from me. An acquaintance asked me 20 thousand pesos and I never saw him again: I don't know what has become of him. Allegedly, his vehicle had broken down (he used to drive a moving truck around the country) and he changed of address. The last thing I knew is that he had moved with his family to Merida. Anyway it is money that came out and I never recovered.

I also lent money to seamstresses who were members of the union; I lent one of them a thousand pesos, another 1200 pesos, another 2000, 3000, 5000; that money never came back either. They stopped talking to me: that's their problem. But I don't learn and I don't regret it. As long as I have life...

Nonetheless, politics...

I have one thing absolutely certain: in my opinion, politics is a science as all others. We are, the humans, who sully it. And all that I've lived makes me more convinced that I'm right time and time again.

It is not a matter of expecting politicians to be saints, although now we can't say that there's even one. But can we admit that, because of our ambitions, our interests, our ignorance, our neglect for everything negative that we have as humans, we have done things wrong.

If we accept that the political science is similar to the medical science, to the science that studies the stars, to the one that studies plants, we must also accept that politics is a positive science. What disfigures it is that we act with our ego, always prioritizing our I.

BACK TO WORK

My responsibilities as a federal deputy member of the P RD ended in December 1994.

Then, I went to visit attorney Isabel Moles, who was the President of the Local Conciliation and Arbitration Board. She suggested me to create another trade union:

—I'll help you, but it has to be something different to the September 19 Union because that one really didn't work, and if you name it that same way you'll have the same problems you had before. Gather people, prepare the documents for me and I'll help you to go through the registration procedure.

But I didn't have much contact with the seamstresses, except with those who came to visit me occasionally to the Chamber of Deputies, and I was no longer integrated with them as when I belonged to the Union.

Late in the year 1995, I thought it would be a good idea to resume what I knew best: seaming. I started to work making dresses at home, but it didn't work as I expected; I just collected enough money to cover my expenses and sometimes not even for that.

And on a trip I made to visit a nephew in Ciudad Juarez, on the plane I found a deputy of the PRI whose name was Jaime Muñoz Dominguez, and during our chat he asked me how I was doing after leaving the Chamber of Deputies.

—What are you doing?

—Not much. Entertaining myself at home.

—You don't have to be locked up! Contact me in January and I'll see what I can do for you.

Our first meeting was due to a coincidence and it occurred more or less in November or December. But at the beginning of the following year I went to visit him, as we had agreed, to consider the possibilities that he could help me find a job.

—You live in Netzahualcoyotl, right?

—Yes.

—And what can you do?

—Remember that I only know about seaming.

—Come on! You no longer have to be locked up in a workshop or an office. I'll give a three months contract while I think where I can employ you.

I don't know exactly what his position was, but that deputy was the director of an office of the Sedesol.

—I agree that you help me, but I'll accept the contract only when you find me a job, because you know that the fact of collecting without doing anything doesn't agree with me.

—That's alright. Let me see, wait a moment.

And the deputy called the Toluca Sedesol office manager and then he told me:

—I just talked with so and so and you have to show up Thursday in Toluca. You tell him that you're going on my behalf. I already told him that you live in Nezahualcoyotl and we're going to see if you can be a social promoter.

—I don't mind if you put me to distribute flyers; what matters is that I do something and not collecting without doing anything.

A social promoter in Netzahualcoyotl

I started working for the Sedesol, as a social promoter, on February 12, 1996. And the man who got me that job at the Sedesol was a member of the PRI, not a member of the PRD or the PAN. We must be honest and tell things as they were. He was very kind with me: he was also a deputy when I was at the Chamber.

I mainly took care of the basic education incentives program, and my job was to go to homes and schools of children who were receiving scholarships to interview them and check their marks, because they had to obtain a minimum average mark if they wanted to keep their scholarships. I had to verify the socio-economic and academic situation of the children to determine whether they should or should not keep the scholarship.

The basic objective of the program was to support children with limited resources: the children of unmarried, widowed or divorced mothers, women who had to behave as mom and dad at the same time. And it was a disturbing experience and, sometimes, even painful, because there were times when I went to homes where I was told that the box of food stock that was provided to children was sold by their fathers to buy alcohol; in other cases, with the money the children received (because besides the food stock the children were also given some money), the fathers bought themselves a big bottle of Coke or beer, although their children had no beans or tortillas to eat.

There were cases outrageously depressing: families lacking any kind of aspiration because their children already had the scholarship; so, eight people lived in a very small room: in that same space they cooked and, at night, on the floor they laid bedrolls on which they all slept together, men, women, children, old people. Why look for a job if everyone could live on the children's scholarship?

It infuriated me to find out, during the visits, that the mother allowed the stepfather to rape her daughter so that the dude didn't leave her, and she didn't mind if the girl suffered and was humiliated. Or the case of a boy who told his mother that he didn't want to go to school. And when the mother asked him why, the child replied:

—Because the teacher mistreats us. He forces us to go to the restroom with him, open his zipper fly and take out his penis.

What kind of teachers are those? How could they humiliate the children that way? That really pissed me off!

All those experiences are deeply embedded in my mind and will never be deleted.

But not everything was negative. There were women who exerted themselves to get ahead despite the obstacles of men. I used to encourage those women to improve their situation both at a personal and at a social participation level.

One of the problems I had to face was that the municipal authorities demanded all the fathers of children with scholarships to clean the streets and median strips of the Chimalhuacan, Pantitlan, Netzahualcoyotl municipalities and of the Xochiaca embankments. In response, I always argued that we had to be fair: that the fathers of children with scholarships and without scholarships had to cooperate on an equal basis, because all the children were receiving the same education from their teachers and thus all parents had the same obligations, not only those of children with scholarships.

And that caused me a clash with a young woman who worked for the municipality, while I worked for a federal government branch. Once she told me:

—Listen, don't give bad ideas to those men!

But, how wouldn't I if that different treatment was bothering me? So, I answered her:

—I do it because it's not fair that only the fathers of children with scholarships must go to paint the schools, to clean the benches and the restrooms.

The fathers of children with scholarships had to perform all the tasks concerning the orderliness of the schools. And if they refused, they ran the risk of being left without the scholarship by the municipality. However, I used to go talk with the teachers at each school I supervised and I told them:

—You must not highlight the children with or without scholarships. You, as teachers, must treat all of them evenly.

The teachers wanted to replicate with a "but ma'am" but before they could end their phrase I quickly answered them:

—No "buts". Here the point at issue is that we be humane with all the children.

As part of my activities, I also monitored the economic supports the Sedesol gave for carrying out drinking water supply works, constructing drainage and sewerage. Once a group of people was organized and presented its request, the Secretariat put in up to 80 percent of the work cost. And I was responsible for monitoring that the work in question was carried out and that the money was properly spent, according to plan.

I worked at the Sedesol in 1996 and 1997. And when the deputies eliminated the budget account 33 that supported the Sedesol, I was discharged, together with many other employees of that Secretariat, and later they ended up removing even Deputy Jaime Muñoz who had found for me that job at the Secretariat and who I went to see to express him my gratitude for the support that he gave me and the motivation for not staying confined in my house and not throwing overboard all the political experience that I had acquired up to that point.

Now, to take care of the environment

On leaving the Sedesol, I commented to some companions:

—Well, this is over. What will we be doing now? I'm not worried...

And I was not worried because, according to me, I was going to work selling Amway Mexico's organic products and what I could make out of those sales would allow me to get by. That was one of the reasons that drove me to visit Alejandro Encinas when he was named Secretary of the Environment of the Federal District; the other reason was that he had been my caucus companion at the Chamber of Deputies.

It occurred to me that as Encina's office was in charge of protecting the environment, it was the perfect place to sell those Amway products. I just expected to be allowed to sell them to employees of that department of the Federal

District government.

The truth is that from the outset Alejandro Encinas send me to see Saul Escobar, because he had offered me to be in charge of the street vendors, but I never went to meet Escobar because the proposal did not attract me in the least, nor I knew anything about dealing with the street vendors.

Then I went to say hello to Enrique Rico Arzate who was the Federal District Hydrology and Land director. And as he pledged to find where I could fit better, I described him my shortcomings: as I had lost an ear in sewing, I couldn't take care of the switchboard or be a telephone operator; as I had only studied until the third grade, and although I knew how to read and write, I couldn't do it fast; that situation canceled my chances of being a secretary or an advisor.

That's how I ended up as head of the Clerk's Office of the Pollution Foresight and Control General Direction, an office that is a branch of the Secretariat of the Environment of the Federal District. I have two young female assistants and with their help we process everything related to the program Hoy no circula: we determine if certain vehicles can be authorized to circulate every day; we check whether the remission of fines for violating the Hoy·no circula program is appropriate; we review all documents related to the operation of the vehicle pollution control centers; and we issue the Federal District unique environmental licenses to companies complying with the environmental requirements; and many other similar tasks. Until recently the head of this Secretariat was Claudia Sheinbaum, who knew me since the time of the Union.

What I like of this job is that it gives me the opportunity to talk with many people and tell them how and where they must carry out their procedures. But in the office they get angry with me because they say that our function is only to receive papers and stamp on them the seal of receipt, and they demand that I just do that.

I admit that sometimes I make mistakes, like any human being, and that my ability is no longer so flowery, since I am 67 years old and I cannot compete with 28 or 30 years old women. Besides, I consider that I have neither their ability nor their academic knowledge.

In short, I can't read as fast as I would like. Thank God, I can and I know how to read, but neither can I say that I read correctly and quickly. That's why sometimes I make mistakes and my immediate boss reprimands me and my assistants who, by the way, I have never treated as subordinates, but as members of a team without hierarchies.

Despite the foregoing, I am convinced that we can provide a human treatment and interest, whose absence I consider one of the biggest problems we have in these days.

THE NURSERY: THE APPLE OF MY EYE

The nursery project was an idea totally mine. Initially, we had planned to buy a plot for the headquarters of the Union, but that was no longer necessary because we took the plot where we were already settled; it didn't cost us a penny because Enrique Jackson, who was the holder of the Cuauhtemoc Delegation, signed an agreement with us so that we could keep occupying it.

It was then when I proposed the companions to establish a nursery for those female workers who didn't have someone with whom leave their children while they went to work. It was a daycare center that in principle would be basically for the seamstresses' children. And with that mindset we began to work on the project. Father Jose Jesus Sigalas, now deceased, helped us a lot to make it a reality.

Father Jose Jesus was the La Purisima parish priest and he intervened in our favor because we requested the support of organizations such as the World Council of Churches and Bread for the World, which helped us buy the building located in Fernandez del Castillo Street No. 2509, in the neighborhood called Villa de Cortes.

We presented the support request for the nursery under the name of the Union through the FAT with the support from father Jose Jesus and the endorsement of father Miguel Concha; that's why we got the necessary financial resources.

Guadalupe Conde, named head of the Commission appointed by the Executive Committee of the Trade Union to find a property, always said that she was looking for it but she never found anything. Instead, father Jose Jesus came one day and informed us that there was a house for sale in the Villa de Cortes neighborhood; we went to see it and we considered that the location was fine.

Some days later, father Jose Jesus himself went with us to the notary, in the Roma neighborhood, to legalize the acquisition of the property which, by the way, was valued as if it was only the land, and was made in the name of the September 19 Union. Obviously, I signed the document as General Secretary of the Union, along with partners Concha Guerrero and Evangelina Vidales, who later would come down on me like a ton of bricks in the nursery.

The remodeling and adaptation of the building was in charge of the Self-Government of the Architecture School of the UNAM. We went to there to ask them for a project design and funding to make the necessary arrangements.

A competition was called in which several students participated with their projects and, finally, they combined the best of each of them. The architect Ernesto Morales, who was a professor at the UNAM, took charge of everything, both of the planning stage and the remodeling itself. He handed over the nursery to us in 1986 and once again, of course, some companions advised by Patricia Nava expressed their dissatisfaction because they considered that too much money had been spent in the nursery. But for the architect and for me, the accounts were clear and there was no money leakage. I still have the receipts of all the money that was spent on the remodeling, if someone wants to review them.

That's another thing I've always asserted: although thousands of pesos went through my hands, I didn't kept or lost one single peso. Some companions expected that we use that money for the economic support that was given on weekends, but we stood firm and that money was invested in a nursery still operating.

The hard start

Initially the nursery started almost with nothing; we only had bought a three phase refrigerator that we already got rid of because it was a huge expenditure in electricity, an industrial blender, a few small tables and chairs, and some kitchen and table utensils which "grew legs" because many of those things "walked out": tools, a projector and even provisions. After Isabel Quintana, who had been allowed to live upstairs, had the witticism of inviting her partner and his children. Although the Executive Committee of the Trade Union was informed of the disappearance of those things, I trusted Isabel and couldn't believe the matter, so at that time I didn't do anything about it.

Initially, we had the support of the UAM which every week gave us boxes of provisions that the companions of the Secretariat of Finance collected and we procured wholesale all that we could: rice, lentils, beans, oil, which we bought as a Trade Union for giving it to the nursery.

However, despite all those aids, the nursery began to operate with no capital because the money we collected as monthly tuition amounted to only one day's wage of the seamstresses and that small sum was only enough to pay the bus fares of the girls who took care of the children.

An ideal project

Subsequently we prepared a document to ask for the support of the World Council of Churches and Bread for the World, and that's how the nursery could be supported. We started with 75 children and that number increased and decreased according the time of year. The young women who took care of the children in the nursery were "the daughter of the sister of so-and-so", or "the daughter of the companion so-and-so of the Executive Committee". In short, all of them were relatives of members of the Union and they were only paid with an aid for their bus fares.

But when the project was planned a very ambitious female workforce was devised; "optimal" used to say the representative of the Mexican Ecumenical Center for Assistance to Victims (CEMAD): a director, a manager, two cooks and four cleaning workers, as well as two preschool teachers for each group or classroom and each of the morning and evening shifts. And, as the nursery school had five classrooms, we were envisaging some 20 teachers, since the central idea was that each teacher took care of four to five children maximum.

It was a very beautiful idea which could not be put into practice. We had planned salary rates based on the hierarchical level and the responsibility of each position. But as resources began to be in short supply, I made the decision to eliminate the hierarchies and even out the salaries, because the cleaner works as much as the director who does nothing because she is there only to give orders.

And that decision caused a huge fuss! The first thing that happened was that the so-called director and administrator said "good-bye" and left. The problem was that no one moved a muscle to get the money to pay the salaries: I had to do it: I went to see father Concha and the father who was in a church near Cuatro Caminos, I went to see Elena Poniatowska, I went to the UNAM, I went to meet with Manuel Camacho Solis (meeting that, by the way, caused me many problems), always looking for a money supply to pay the nursery staff. That's when I decided to stop paying so much money to the director for not doing anything. Mrs. Director, who wasn't even a teacher, used to turn up at 10:00 a.m. and suddenly she was not anymore her office: she had left and she only returned in the afternoon when it was almost time to close; and as she earned more than all the staff, I considered that situation unfair.

A non-profit organization is born

In 1990, and with the help of some women companions of the Red de Grupos para la Salud de la Mujer y el Niño, A.C., (Regsamuni)—which, by the way, also helped us a lot as a Union, giving us courses to become trainers, along with the Grupo de Educacion para Mujeres (GEM)—the nursery was incorporated as a non-profit organization with the purpose of getting funding sources to guarantee the continuity of the project. That's how the nursery acquired a dynamic of its own, as well as more and more self-sufficiency over time

Of that time I remember mostly Eva Isabel Montero and Monserrat (I'm sorry, but I don't remember her family name) who helped us during more time at the nursery, guiding us and training the young women who would be in charge of the children.

I hold in the highest regard Sandra Rocha of the UNAM, Cecilia Loria Saviñon and a young woman named Marilu, also from the GEM. I reiterate the name of Elena Poniatowska because on several occasions she bailed me out to support the women staff of the nursery: it's a memory that I keep with much respect and affection.

The blows

Despite all the fuss and the betrayals, the nursery is still operating, although we presently have very few children. And if it continues to operate, against all odds, it's because I have been faithful to the commitment I made to carry on that project.

Due to the fact that the child population began to decline because the seamstress mothers don't like to take their children to a nursery school, I made the tough decision of opening the space to receive the children of any working woman who had the need, since it was practically impossible to continue limiting the service only to the children of seamstresses.

The moment I left the union, the Christian Children's Fund in Mexico (a U.S. body that everybody call CCF) was supporting us through sponsors for the children, basically because they were children of low-income seamstresses; several children received such support, but later, Leticia Kesner and Patricia Nava went to ask the CCF to stop helping the nursery because, according to them, the children who were there were not low-income anymore. The CCF ceased granting us that support and transferred that economic resource to the union, because the companions who had replaced us on the Committee had created a children's playroom.

A question that resulted in another blow for the nursery was that when I was serving my third term as General Secretary of the Trade Union, instead of giving us cash, at my request the SME donated us symbolically the premises of its nursery located in San Antonio Abad Avenue No. 220.

I really don't know if the guys of the SME constructed that nursery or if they bought the building, but the fact is that the whole thing was handled in a symbolic way because they never gave us the corresponding deed. That nursery had been abandoned in 1987 and, somewhere in 1989, the year the SME transferred us its ownership, I went to recognize the building and there I found evidences of the scumbags who, for years, had been looting it and had stolen all the copper materials.

In view of that situation, I thought that there was no point in leaving that building empty, while some of the seamstresses were still living in San Antonio Abad, in small huts that dripped when it rained. So I decided that Alma Rosa Vera should move to live in the SME's nursery and by the way keep a watch over the premises. She was the Finance Secretary of the Union and she lived in a tent, because she came from the factory whose labor dispute we lost in Merida and where all our colleagues ended up dismissed, and she was the only one who stayed in Mexico City.

And, in fact, Alma Rosa Vera went to live in the nursery building, along with another woman named Luz Vazquez, who was also a member of the union. The bad experience was that shortly after they began to fight each other. Alma Rosa Vera took over the whole nursery and left only a small room for Luz Vazquez.

By coincidence, at that time a teacher who had a private school between Chabacano and Jose T. de Cuellar Streets, in the Vista Alegre neighborhood, some three or four blocks from the SME's nursery, approached the September 19 Seamstresses Union and proposed its Executive Committee that we lend her the unoccupied space to install there her school, because she had been asked to vacate the property she was leasing.

We reached an agreement with the teacher in which we settled that she committed to pay 2,500 pesos as monthly rent and that money would be devoted to financially support our nursery, the one operating in Villa de Cortes. In addition, the teacher would assume the commitment to pay the telephone and the electricity bills as well as give maintenance to the SME's premises.

The Executive Committee studied the proposal and decided that it was something positive and as the last word—mine—was lacking, I said "yes!" Consequently, the teacher went to clean and furnish the premises so that in the building could start to operate her school, but she never gave to the Executive Committee the monthly rent that we had agreed; instead, she kept handing it directly to Alma Rosa Vera who never gave a single cent to the nursery of the Union but pocketed that money which she shared with two employees that she had. Then, clashes again.

On the other hand, the Carnival and Rosy Bras collective contract stipulated that the employer would give a financial support for the nursery (I don't remember exactly the amount, but I think it was a hundred pesos a month), but time passed and we never went to collect that money.

When the new Committee started operating, it was Mercedes Ramirez who was responsible for collecting that money. Sometime later, as I was negotiating with that company as advisor of the Seducta workshop, I asked the employer about the financial support for the nursery and I was shocked when he told me that the new General Secretary of the Union had already gone to pick up some five thousand pesos; however, she never handed one single cent for the nursery.

I think that with trifles such as these the persons make themselves known. And again: zero support for the nursery. Neither from one side nor from the other.

Fortunately, when I entered the Chamber of Deputies I paid started to earn a good salary and with my money I could support the nursery. On several occasions I helped finance almost the whole payroll, but well, the nursery went ahead and we took care of up to 75 children.

And here we go again

Later, the number of children declined once again due to more ruckus, and it was almost a sure thing that every week I had to go to the prosecutor's office: because so-and-so had been beaten, because who knows what had been stolen; because someone insulted who knows who... In fact, I became well known at the Portales district P.O.

And once again I made the same mistake of always: trusting people.

I thought that the appointment of Evangelina Vidales as director could be positive for the nursery, as there would finally be someone who would have the authority to monitor and prevent things to continue being stolen.

So, one day I came across Evangelina Vidales and I proposed her to be in charge of the nursery.

—The truth is that there have been many problems, but for the moment I cannot address them because I must be at the

Chamber of Deputies.

And she accepted and she went to the nursery. But, how could I appoint her? Later I found out, through the companions who worked at the nursery, that they saw how Evangelina Vidales went to the bank to deposit the money paid by the parents in an account she opened in her name. Meanwhile, the nursery never had money to pay for the necessary supplies.

Then I filed a lawsuit against Isabel Quintana because she was causing ruckus after ruckus. If Evangelina Vidales installed them a new lightbulb, the next day that lightbulb was already missing. We had to buy new tools because those that we had were gone.

Later, as there were no resources for anything, Eva Isabel, the girl who belonged to Regsamuni, raffled off a TV set, but the device disappeared between Friday and Monday. According to the information I received, they saw how the TV set was carried away in a red pickup truck, the one belonging to Patricia Nava.

That's a fact, I say to myself: "One, and another, and another, and another"... But I haven't let myself being overwhelmed by the complications. When Evangelina Vidales entered the nursery, the exodus of the other young women began because none of them wanted to work with her, and the lawsuits began: "With that woman we don't, we just won't work."

And another of my mistakes was that I felt awful that, after having battled and struggled for so long, those young women went home empty hands, without money. So, as I was in the Chamber of Deputies and I had that income, on my own initiative I gave them, out of my money, a symbolic severance pay because they didn't have any work benefit: the less I gave one of them was 500 pesos, and three thousand pesos to the one who most received. By the way, today the employees of the nursery still lack any benefit; the only thing they are given is the breakfast and the lunch, or the lunch and the luncheon, because we don't have money for more than that.

Yes, I felt guilty for letting go empty-hands those young women. And for being a Good Samaritan, later some of those women suited me before the Local Conciliation and Arbitration Board, court where I had to go and I had to pay a lawyer to solve the conflicts. There were not large amounts that I had to pay them (between three and four thousand pesos to each of them, which was the equivalent of the three months established by the Constitution) but, of course, after negotiating to avoid a long trial; but if you add and add... All that money came out of my purse.

The last clash, the most serious and the strongest, was with Evangelina Vidales, because she falsely accused my nephew of attempted rape. When Isabel Quintana and her partner were evicted from the nursery (because I saw myself in the need of suing her because since she got her companion in the nursery many things began to disappear), their belongings were taken out to the street and Evangelina Vidales wanted to take revenge because she was who most clashed with Isabel to such an extent that they even came to blows, in addition to the lawsuits that they filed each other at the public prosecutor's office all the time.

That's when I thought that things could become more serious and so I asked one of my nephews—who had just steal his girlfriend—to go live at the nursery. I remember very well that one Thursday night I called the nursery expecting my nephew to answer me and let me know how things were going and to my surprise it was Evangelina Vidales who answered.

—And now what? Hadn't you go back to your home?

—Yes, but I quarreled with my husband and I came to live here.

—And your sons?

—They stayed there.

So the next day, Friday, she goes and accuses my nephew of attempted rape and a police car comes to pick my nephew. Fortunately his sister, my niece, knew a criminal lawyer who solved the problem. Nevertheless, the issue costed me five thousand pesos.

And then, to withdraw her accusation, Evangelina demanded me that I let her work again at the nursery. At that time I didn't have any choice but to accept that she stayed there some time, but one day my nephew called me to tell me that Evangelina had left the keys stucked in the door, which made me think that the woman was looking for pretexts to blame my sister's son once again. Then the young boy said:

—Aunt, what do you think if I better leave?

—As you wish. The truth is that I don't want to put you at risk of being blamed again for something that you didn't do.

And the boy went to his mother's. I told Evangelina that we could not continue like that and I asked her to leave. So she sued me because I had fired her. But she made off with everything: the bank account, the accounting books, the typewriter... She even took the keys. But in the end we had managed to get rid of her.

We went to trial, and she proposed that if I gave her five thousand pesos, she would withdraw her claim. I simply answered her:

—After all what you did, you still expect I'll give you money? You're mad!

And I gave my lawyer all the documentation that I had. When we examined the file, we could see that she was suing me declaring that she had been working from 7:00 a.m. until 7:00 p.m.; and she asked me to pay her unpaid salaries. She affirmed that I owed her holidays, I owed her a Christmas bonus, that I forced her to work on Saturdays and Sundays, and as I hadn't register her in the Social Security, she asked me to register her retroactively... In total, she was suing me for almost 75 thousand pesos.

How could I let her go with that amount? I thought it was something totally unfair! The trial went on and a long time passed, but the lawyer rested on his laurels and wasn't on the lookout: when the verdict was emitted, I was sentenced, and I had to reinstall her in the nursery. But one month later we dismissed her one more time and she sued me for a second time. Once more we present all the evidence of the negative actions she had incurred and the ruling came out in my favor.

Evangelina Vidales moved heaven and earth because she wanted to do away with me at any cost. She even went so far as to sue me before the Human Rights Commission. However, I won the case and that was the end of it.

Since then the situation has been quieter, but the number of children diminished a lot because Eva Vidales gathered the parents to tell them that as my nephew was an alleged rapist, he was a threat for the children. As a result of her lies, many parents took their children out of the nursery.

The present situation

Now we have some 20 children. The problem that I face now is that the SEP demands that I have qualified personnel.

I've already explained them that I don't have enough money to hire professional teachers and their answer was that if don't have qualified personnel I can't have children older than four years in the nursery, because I will not be able to give preschool. This would mean having fewer children. Most of those who are there now are very young; at the end of the last school cycle, only one child came out ready to enter primary school, and at the end of the current cycle three came out of preschool.

For now, my only advantage is that I haven't faced the need of spending my money: The last amount I contributed was to paint it. I bought all the painting as I did on other occasions: everything has come out of my purse because the nursery has no resources, but at least we already gave it a pass of paint. We still need to paint the office and the light shaft, but everything else has been painted, thanks to the help of the teachers and the administrative staff who performed that job.

In fact, I haven't been able to find another option for the building because it is registered as a nursery and, besides, I want to keep it as such and continue faithful to the commitment that I assumed when we started with the project.

We've been using the property, but legally it's not mine; however, I think morally it belongs to me because I've invested lots of money in it: even more than its initial cost.

I've never issued a receipt stating that Evangelina Corona gave this or that; I have only the receipts that the girls signed me when I gave them their compensation for dismissal; it was my own initiative because I was the representative of the non-profit organization. We haven't replaced the members of the Board of Directors or called another assembly; that's why the agreements and positions that we approved in 1990 are still in force: I am the legal representative of the non-profit organization, as secretary of its Board of Directors.

I can't deny that the nursery has given me many satisfactions in the moral aspect, but it is also true that it has been a project that we have sustained against all odds. Despite all the obstacles, here we continue, solving one by one all the problems that we have had to face. For example, these days I've been looking for a way to solve the problem of a water debt that the property has since many years. I am requesting a prescription of the debt and a reconsideration of the fee that we are charged because the bimonthly bills that we receive are excessive; the amount they seek to charge us for the service is too high. And I'm not the only one who is complaining: several neighbors around us have the same problem.

Looking to the future

Given the possibility of future political changes implying the loss of my current job, I've been thinking of devoting myself to the nursery. Besides continuing with a project that I consider socially useful and necessary, at least I would have food guaranteed every day, which is what I would earn with my work. That's why I wouldn't mind not having a higher economic income: I'm satisfied with the minimum needed to survive.

The girls working at the nursery earn 1,400 or 1,600 pesos a month: they don't even make 2,000 pesos a month. The poor girls! How could I earn what they are not earning; I would have to put my salary on the the same level as theirs.

And, on the other hand, I neither rule out the fact that I'm still an Amway Mexico partner, so I can go out offering those products and support myself financially with that small income.

XlV. THE GREAT PARADOX

I must confess that I feel terribly sad when I look at the prevailing situation of the country. Now I ask myself, what's the use of knowing what exploitation is, when the economic situation forces us to bow our head in many ways? What can I offer the seamstresses to convince them to create a new union if we haven't been able to conquer a fair treatment from the employers?

I keep inside me a little anguish, because it's like finally comprehending how things are really but, at the same time, cutting your wings because anyhow you also realize that you won't be able to do anything.

And that happened many times in the union. What's the use of opening the eyes of the companions, of telling them: "my friends, work must be fairly remunerated", if they don't let you do that? What's the use of imbuing them a conscience that they will not be able to develop?

This reality has filled me with some kind of guilt, because when I was in the union I really thought that we had progressed a lot, and during that period we really moved forward, but now, with the famous NAFTA, everything is back where it was. Now my fellow seamstresses are not only exploited, they are super-exploited, because their workloads are bigger; because now they are, so told me the companions, as if they were in a prison where they are not even allowed to stand up or stretch, or to say "I'm tired", because they are excessively watched.

In a workshop, a woman I know was given the opportunity to make the sample: first she went through a fence and a guard post where she was searched from head to toe; then she went to an office where she had to take off her blouse and put on a white coat; finally, she made the test, she passed it, but she only worked 25 days because they didn't pay her what they had promised her and besides they wanted to discount her three days.

That woman decided to not return because she is a worker already aware of what one must really defend, but other workers who are most in need, who live hand to mouth, constrained, accept that kind of treatment and even the fact that they're not allowed to raise their heads or that they have to have to ask for the key of the restroom and if they take a few minutes longer they start to ring them.

Most large companies have had to merge to be able to face the great invasion of foreign products. That was the case of Carnival of Mexico: its owner showed us that for the price of a Mexican panties it was possible to buy a dozen of those coming from abroad.

The situation overwhelms me because I once opened my mouth to say that things could be done, but I didn't measure the consequences of the future, and the NAFTA has converted Mexico in an outsource purveyor of foreign companies.

Our country is flooded with so many garments, with so many gadgets, with so many things, that the female workers now don't care—despite their consciousness and knowing that they are exploited—to endure suffering or problems as long as they keep their jobs.

Maybe now they're paid a little more because the peso-dollar exchange rate has changed, but in fact now the employers have decided to transfer their work to small family workshops to which they even lend their sewing machines with the condition that they only work for them. In fact those are clandestine workshops.

This situation has driven the big employers to get rid of all responsibility so that the workers themselves, gathered in those small family workshops, carry the burden of the wear of machines, of the thread, the replacement parts, the rent, the electricity... Now all of that is paid by the worker converted into a so-called small businessman.

In addition to all of the above, the exploitation is greater because in the family workshops not only the father and the mother work, but they include the whole family: from the grandparents to the youngest children. And, as they are at home, the workdays are longer because sometimes they keep working all night long when the employers demand the workers to deliver the product in a very short time. And if they fall behind on the agreed date, the employers collect fines or no longer receive the goods or they pay it at half the price agreed.

In the maquila work you don't have social security, nor benefits, not even the Christmas bonus that at least was something we had in the factories. You get paid what you deliver and that's all.

I insist that it is something that overwhelms me because I saw personally that exploitation. But now, facing reality at my age, if tomorrow they tell me that there is no more work, what do I have left? What was the use of having learned all that I know? That is the main problem: I'm not saying that there's nothing we can do, I keep fighting, I keep advising my companions to take care of their work, to arrive on time, to do things well...

If we put things on the weighing scale, we will find that we will only keep the idea that we can defend our right; however, in practice they don't let us do so.

Employers, businessmen, have never agreed to pay what's fair. When I was in the union and we entered into a negotiation, the first thing they told us was that they neither could, nor they had the capacity to pay more because they had a lot of expenses. But when we started to organize ourselves, we learned of the famous surplus value: the small slice of cheese that employers use to pay the wages of the workers, the rent, the electricity and the other expenses, compared with the big chunk representing the benefit they will obtain with our work.

While I worked as seamstress I never understood that surplus value concept; they never explained or taught us about it. Thus, how are you going to claim something that you don't know? I only knew that when I finished my work they gave me a certain amount each week, each fortnight or each month, depending on how we were paid, but we never were informed how much money the employers earned.

Once I commented that they paid me 30 cents for sewing the pair of sleeves to the blouses and if I delivered 200 blouses a day, I wondered how much the owners earned in those 200 daily blouses, and that was only what I produced, without considering the production of the other seamstresses... By contrast, if I wanted to buy one of those blouses my week salary was not enough to pay for it. So, how the hell the owners could say that they didn't have money enough to increase my salary to a fairer amount?

That's what I could never understand while I was working, I never valued it, I never imagined it, I never asked about it... It might be because one has only rudimentary knowledge, but when the adviser Antonio Alvarado explained it to me at the union, I learned it and I understood it. And now I say: "What's the use to have this knowledge if I just grab a job, and I grab it because there's no other choice"; and I cling to it even if they paid less because the country's economic situation is dark and gloomy.

We must accept that we have many limitations and that much remains to be done, but what's clear to me is that I am committed to helping my neighbor, no matter if have to lose my job: my duty is to help those who are falling, bringing them up, cheering them up...

XV. CLOSING WORDS

I've always said: "Here there are no hierarchies, we are all equal, we are part of the same team and we have a responsibility to fulfill."

That has been my life position since always, especially because I was born in a very humble house and since I was little I had to work to help my parents; because they feed us, sustain us, regardless if we do things or we don't.

Since I was a girl I learned to do the work, to be responsible and to value things. In that sense I've always taken a stand against hierarchies, whether in the union, in the church or in my current job.

I admit that my fellow coworkers elected me as General Secretary of the September 19 Union, that later I became federal deputy by the PRD, and that in the Church to which I belong I was ordained as an elder. And who knows what other surprise the one from "above" (God) will bring me.

But all those positions have been temporary and what prevails is the humility and the humanity with which we behave. I never thought myself "really really" nor I let the power of my posts go to my head. Nor I have felt being special for having the opportunity to tell and share what has been my life.

This book is just a part of my experiences, and from the depths of my heart I hope that reading it has served you at least as an inspiration to reflect on some of the facts mentioned in these pages.

On the other hand, this experience allowed me to remember that have drawers full of papers with the history of the September 19 Trade Union, from bank statements to the propaganda documents I was given at the different meetings I attended. Everything is saved; I haven't thrown away one single paper, but it's a documentation that is disordered, that must be organized.

For example, there are all those bank statements of the money that the union had in Bancomer. As the treasurer went away and didn't want to move anything, we couldn't deposit or withdraw a single peso. And Bancomer went eating those resources until they finished with them. Nowadays it's not a lot of money, but at that time it was. Now I haven't seen that happen in any other bank, but one day the guys from Bancomer even sent me a notice informing me that instead of having savings we owed them money.

Sometimes I wonder what has been the point of keeping all those papers on the history of the trade union: the statutes, the demands of ownership and the union lawsuits. I think that despite their historical value, perhaps after I die nobody will be interested in them and they will end up in the garbage or burnt. But while that happens, there they are. What for? Only God knows.

XVI. CHRONOLOGY OF EVANGELINA CORONA

1938: November 27, Evangelina is born in the village of San Antonio Cuaxomulco, in the state of Tlaxcala.

1951: She starts to work as a maid in the city of Apizaco, Tlaxcala.

1953: She arrives for the first time to Mexico City to work at the Mendiola family home.

1958: She works as a maid in Mexico City with the Djerassi family.

1959: She works in a jewelry store. Later, during a few months, she has her first experience hand basting and ironing uniforms for traffic officers in the Casa Gante tailor shop, located in downtown Mexico City. She meets Julio Pacheco, the father of her first daughter.

1960: On February 10, her daughter Maheli is born in Mexico City.

1960-1963: She returns to live at her parents' home in San Antonio Cuaxomulco, where her daughter Maheli spends the first years of her life.

1963: Donaciano Corona Cervantes, father of Evangelina, dies in an "accident" never clarified.

1964: She returns to Mexico City. She lives in the home of her sister in the Agricola Oriental district and she starts working in the workshop of Elias Anquie, who becomes her first formal employer.

1968-1969: She works at the workshop of Mr. Cervantes, outsourcer of the Anquie brothers, and although her workplace is very close to the Preparatoria 2 premises—starting point of the 1968 student upheaval—she never hears the news concerning the student movement.

1970-1985: She starts working at the factory of Mr Samuel Bizu, where she remains 15 years and whose building would collapse due to strength of the September 19, 1985 earthquake.

1972: On June 11, also in Mexico City, is born her second daughter, Ana Janette.

1974: She decides to stop paying rent and she buys a house that she pays by installments and where she still lives today. In November, she moves to live in her new home and she starts the preparations to celebrate Maheli's 15th birthday and Ana Janette's christening. Evangelina and her mother abandon Methodism and become Presbyterian due to the convenience of having the Nazareth Temple a few blocks from their home.

1980: Evangelina pays the last installments of her house.

1985: At 7:19 a.m., Thursday, September 19, an earthquake with a moment magnitude of 8.1 and a Mercalli intensity of IX (Violent) causes serious damages to the downtown Mexico City area and particularly to areas in which sewing workshops were located. Evangelina arrives at the building of her workplace and, as she finds it converted into rubble, she helps locating and rescuing some of her female coworkers. She initiates contacts with her employer, Samuel Bizu, to define their future employment. She works during two weeks at a workshop located in the Magdalena Contreras delegation. On 8 October, she holds a first hearing with her employer, but as he only offers 20 percent of what the law stipulates, she and her coworkers reject his proposal and decide to go to trial. First contacts with male and female volunteers whose help will result in the organization of seamstresses to defend their rights. On October 12, she takes part in a great March to Los Pinos, residence of the President, where a list of demands is delivered. That same day she takes part in a rally at the Zocalo, where she publicly greets peasants of the "Land and Freedom" group. On October 18th she is part of the commission which goes to talk to President Miguel de la Madrid and she exposes the problems of the seamstresses. On the morning of October 20th she is elected as the first General Secretary of the Union of Seamstresses and she takes the oath of office as such. Hours later, in the early hours of next day, she receives from the hands of the Secretary of Labor and Social Welfare the formal register of the September 19 National Union of the Sewing, Dress, Garment, Similar and Related Industry Workers. On the night of October 23th the talks between the clothing businessmen and the September 19 Seamstresses Union are broken because the employers refused to jointly solve the problems of the seamstresses and they preferred to deal individually with the union, in an attempt to divide the workers and negotiate at their convenience.

1986: On May 17 and 18, during the First National Extraordinary Congress of the Trade Union of the Seamstresses Evangelina is re-elected as General Secretary.

1986-1987: The UNAM Self-government of Architecture becomes responsible for remodeling the premises of what would initially would be called the Center for Child Development and Care (Cendai).

1987: On September 10th the Cendai starts to operate, commonly known as the nursery of the trade union, and that continues operating thanks to Evangelina's efforts and groundwork.

1990: During the month of March the nursery of the union modifies its legal structure and becomes a non-profit organization (a 'civil association' according to the Mexican laws), thus acquiring greater autonomy.

1991: After a long convalescence dona Felicitas Cadena Cadena, mother of Evangelina, dies. That same year, concludes the last of her three terms as General Secretary of the September 19 Seamstresses Union.

1991-1994: She begins her functions as a plurinominal federal deputy of the PRD, representing XXVIII District, being part of the LV legislature, whose activities ended in December 1994.

1993: Although she still is a federal deputy, she runs as the PRD candidate for the municipal Presidency of Ciudad Netzahualcoyotl, election that she loses against the PRI candidate.

1994: The September 19 Seamstresses Union loses its register as a national union and only keeps a local register in Mexico City.

1995: She becomes the first woman of the Presbyterian Church of Mexico to be ordained as an elder, member of the Consistory of the Nazareth Temple.

1996-1997: On February 12th she starts her work as a social promoter of the Sedesol in Ciudad Netzahualcoyotl, State of Mexico.

1997: The September 19 Seamstresses Union loses its last local contract and thus also loses its register and disappears.

2001 to date: She works at the Federal District Environment Secretariat as holder of the Clerk's Office of the Pollution Foresight and Control General Direction.

FOUR "CRAZY THOUGHTS"

MY SMILING LITTLE GIRL

When I look at you lying in bed  
when I hear you singing or laughing  
when I hear you talking animated,  
I don't lie to you, I feel happy.

When in the midst of a world void  
of tenderness, affection and love  
I look at you approaching step by step  
the abyss of envy and pain.

How small before a huge tragedy  
what impotence before a bitter pain  
the more I love you the more you despise me  
if you make me cry you laugh at my love.

It is your hair waving on your shoulders  
the beautiful look of your eyes  
the clear smile of your lips  
that made me truly love you.

I do not care if you despise me  
I do not know if you know how to love  
I only know that my anguish and sadness  
your presence can delete them.

Let me now look in your eyes  
the sparkles of love and light  
which illuminate as a beautiful bright star  
and reflect in my heart.

The dawn of life in the East already  
announces Jesus triumphant egress  
vanquisher of the grave and of death  
after having expired on the cross.

The open grave silent witness  
says the silence and the solitude  
Jesus Christ already left this world  
where He only found evildoing.

On previous days He was derided  
He was crucified without mercy  
now triumphant He has appeared  
ahead of his disciples there He goes.

Now Christ lives, He defeated death  
He beat the tomb that locked Him up  
He has arouse full of glory  
next to his Father He is siting now.

Oh, Christ beloved, your blessed light,  
your eternal love, goodness and might  
fill the souls gathered here  
and your greatness let us know.

Honor and glory, Lord, we give you  
for your victory, my good Jesus,  
be glorified forever  
You who gave your life for me.

The heart is stubborn when it clings to the impossible  
to the unreachable it leans or wants to arrive  
the pain it suffers is greater and stronger  
and its whole life it will have to endure it.

It is also horrible to look within oneself  
because one finds things that make us cry  
looking at the past is to live convicted  
and to feel the chains of solitude.

It is never desirable to suffer for love  
no one that you love you would like to lose  
useless it is if you seek oblivion  
while you toil to seek relief  
you find the sorrows of another love.

Joy in the soul that suffered before  
today that no longer loneliness  
He laughs, sings, runs with great joy  
like a gazelle that has its breeding  
radiates light in the face of bliss  
where she is all love.

Cheerful turn out to be the new dispute  
immense the happiness voice of illusion  
I forget that there neither is or comes a grief  
there is only happiness when there is love.

TELLING THINGS AS THEY WERE

This edition consists of 1000 copies.  
It was printed in September 2007 at the printshop Complott-Design, S. A. de C. V.  
División del Norte 2657-1, Col. Del Carmen, Delegación Coyoacán, 04100 México, D. F.  
complottdesign@gmail.com  
56596117· 56599737· 55547411

Lic. Graciela Enríquez Enríquez and Merari Fierro were responsible for taking care of this work.

