If I Die in Juarez (2008) By Stella Pope Duarte

Over the past few months I have been following a horrendous news story concerning the ambush and disappearance of 43 students from the lawless town of Iguala in the state of Guerrero in southern Mexico. Last week independent Austrian authorities were able to do a DNA match to one of the students using bone fragments buried in a remote area, confirming a belief that the students have been executed. Notorious drug cartels and their puppets in government are the prime suspects, though predictably, no one saw anything. This type of news story is hardly restricted to Mexico, being recent history in both Chile and Argentina, and in fact throughout world history.

The chilling nature of this news reminded me that a few years ago I purchased a book about the systemic rape, murder and mutilation of hundreds of young women in Juarez, Mexico – again, the suspects include the drug cartels, with police and government collusion and protection. After buying the non-fiction book, I could not bring myself to read it. I finally read it this week.  

If I Die in Juarez, by Stella Pope Duarte, is beautifully written, but not at all a pleasant read. 

 

I’ve read and reviewed two of Duarte’s books before: Let Their Spirits Dance is a heart-wrenching, yet heart-warming, story about the Ramirez family from Phoenix, Arizona making a pilgrimage to see the name of their son/brother/friend on the Vietnam War Memorial in Washington DC; and Women Who Live in Coffee Shops is a short story collection about the lives of poor people living on the south side of Phoenix.  In both books, Duarte proves she is a masterful storyteller.    

Duarte uses those writing skills to tell the world the horror that is the topic of If I Die in Juarez. When I first read about these awful events in newspaper reports, I only saw the statistics, and after awhile one becomes quite numb to them. To overcome that lack of focus, Duarte pulled the statistics down to the individual level, humanizing the inhuman.

She informs the reader about these atrocities (coined as “feminicidio” or “feminicide”) by telling the story of several people who migrated to Jaurez, a border town in the state of Chihuahua, across the river from El Paso, Texas. They came for a variety of reasons, but mainly to seek work at the “maquiladoras” – American controlled factories built just inside the border of Mexico after the ratification of NAFTA, they were created virtually overnight to take advantage of cheaper, non-union labor. The social impact of this rapid feudal-industrialization has been profound, but cannot be called progress. The migrants were originally from rural villages throughout Mexico, poor and poorly educated, ripe for exploitation.
  
While the victims are numerous, so too are the perpetrators: pathologic machismo men, both Mexican and American; corporate officials; pimps, prostitutes and johns; politicians and police; drug users and drug dealers; and even do-gooders.

Yet, the most alarming aspect of this entire story is the institutionalized silence.

The heroes of the story -- who are primarily heroines -- are few, yet grow in number as they quickly realize they are being pillaged by everyone, considered expendable by all. As in Chile, Argentina and elsewhere, it is the families of the dead or missing who are rising up, demanding action. The book ends with the history of the founding of Mujeres Unidas de Juarez (United Mothers of Juarez), an organization that demands its government work for the people, not the cartels. It serves as a model for many groups, including the families of the missing students in Iguala.