Indigenous leaders lift the veil on gender-based violence in El Salvador

“They told me that my husband had gotten a shotgun to kill me.” “He doesn’t let me go out alone or go to work.” “He liked to drink and he [almost] beat me to death. That’s why I left him.” These are some of the testimonies that women from the Nahuat Pipil, Lenka, and Kawawira communities have shared about the abuse they have suffered in El Salvador.

Since 2021, their experiences have been documented by the Sijsihuat Mejmetzaly Observatory. Indigenous leaders are working to ensure that the gender violence in their communities is made visible. “The observatory is just a tool to begin to empower ourselves,” says Omelina Méndez, from the district of Santa Catarina Masahuat, in the west of the Central American country.

Over the last three years, 25 community leaders have collected information from nearly 600 Indigenous women in El Salvador, via surveys that measure indicators of violence. They reveal that more than half of Indigenous women in the country have been the victims of some type of abuse.

“We knew that’s how it was. I think that there are more [victims], but many women don’t report it. They don’t want scandals,” Méndez shrugs. She, too, has suffered from gender-based violence in her life. “Since I was little, I saw how my father beat my mother,” the 61-year-old woman explains. “I also experienced moments of violence with my husband… but things have changed because I have changed,” the Nahuat leader continues. She has strived to educate her three sons in a different way.

The observatory — an initiative by the National Network of Indigenous Women of El Salvador — has the support of UN Women and the Canadian Fund for Local Initiatives. It emerged from this need to change the future. The idea was born in 2020, amid the pandemic, and was consolidated a year later. Twenty-five Indigenous leaders have already received virtual training to collect data in their communities and identify patterns of violence. “It was difficult, because not all of us had the means to connect. We began the training process via Zoom with our phones,” says Betty Eliza Pérez, a Nahuat leader from a community near the municipality of Atiquizaya. This lawyer was one of the initiators of the project, which has demonstrated that 43.4% of Indigenous women in El Salvador have suffered from psychological violence, while 26.8% have experienced physical abuse.

Another important indicator that the observatory has revealed is that 47% of young women become mothers before the age of 18. This forces them to take on household care and maintenance tasks early on in life. “Economic dependence becomes psychological dependence. That’s when violence can begin,” Pérez explains. She’s a mother of three.

The 56-year-old woman often leads listening circles, where women share their stories in a safe space. Together, surrounded by the bright green of the coffee plantations and the corn and bean fields, they put their experiences into words. Through sharing, terms such as “incest” have been explained… a recurring situation in the communities, one which previously went unnoticed.

“I remember the case of a girl who was impregnated by her father. The lady (the girl’s mother) threw her daughter out and was left raising her grandson,” Pérez sighs. Like most women in her community, she was raised to help with farm work. However, unlike many others, she was able to complete her studies. This is the opposite case for Méndez, who was barely able to attend classes for six months, as is the case for most Indigenous women in the country.

The data revealed by the two large surveys carried out by the observatory have also confirmed that women suffer attacks on their Indigenous identity. “They’re treated like second-class citizens,” says Miriam Bandes, UN Women’s representative in El Salvador. Recognition of Indigenous peoples only gained strength in 2014, following a constitutional reform by the Legislative Assembly.

Being a woman and being Indigenous

“Nobody — not my father, nor my grandmother, nor my mother — taught us that we were Indigenous,” Pérez recalls. She’s the eldest of 10 siblings. Despite growing up with her uncles’ stories and inheriting the traditions of caring for the land, for many years, she ignored the fact that she was Nahuat Pipil. She was afraid to face the legacy of her people. “Before, they would take the Indigenous people up the mountain, douse them in gasoline, and set them on fire,” Pérez says, referring to the attempted extermination of her community in 1932. That fear caused few people to recognize themselves as Indigenous in the country, although that reality has changed over the years.

According to data from the Central Reserve Bank of El Salvador, in the 2007 census, only 0.2% of the population defined themselves as Indigenous. Now, in 2024, 1.2% — equivalent to 68,148 people — recognize and exalt their identity.

In defense of this legacy, women like Pérez are fighting to make life better in their villages, especially for girls and young women. “It’s a joy to know that we’re supporting each other as women,” the leader affirms. She adds that the observatory is developing its third major survey: the results are set to be published in December.

The fight for women’s rights is carried out jointly with the defense of the traditional beliefs of the people. Women like Pérez and Méndez also advocate for the preservation of their environment. “We give talks in schools, where we teach [community members] about the protection of nature. We also speak to children about violence,” Méndez explains.

“The observatory data allows UN Women to speak to the minister and say: this is the situation of Indigenous women, what can we do to solve it?” Bandes explains. The objective is for the observatory to be self-sustaining in the Indigenous communities, so that local women are the ones who lead the transformations in their environment. “They’ve been provided with tools to [expand] knowledge and be agents of change in their communities,” she emphasizes.

Thanks to the lessons learned over the last three years, women have become aware of the abuses and have shared their experiences with each other. “We’ve held workshops with men on new masculinities, so that they can also be part of the change,” Méndez details. In addition to the observatory, the Indigenous leaders promote strategies to encourage female autonomy. “We’re working on a family garden project in [the municipality of] Corinto, which will be led by women,” Pérez says enthusiastically. She dreams of the possibility of having an institution dedicated exclusively to the gender struggle: “One day, I’d like to see a special ombudsperson for Indigenous women in El Salvador.”

Translated by Avik Jain Chatlani.

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