coéfn mum
WOMEN’S MOVEMENT

A  ILSE ABSHAGEN LEITINGER,
EDITOR AND TRANSLATOR

 

27 ° Sonia de la Cruz Malavassi
Yadira Calvo: Costa Rican Feminist Writer par Excellence 269

VII ° The Constantly Evolving Status of Women’s Studies 277

28 ° Cora Ferro Calabrese
From CIEM to IBM: The Consolidation of Women’s Studies
at the Universidad Nacional 282

29 ° Laura Guzman Stein
Gender Studies at the Universidad de Costa Rica 287

30 ° Helga Iiménez
CSUCA’s Approach to Women’s Studies and Its Projected Program
in Central America 293

31 ° Mafalda Sibille Martina -
Timely, Relevant, Trustworthy, Precise, Ongoing: Toward a
Gender—in-Development Information Network 298

32 ' Matilde Lopez Nufiez
Women’s Presence in the University: The Case of the Universidad
Nacional in Heredia 304

33 ° Margarita Brenes Fonseca, May Brenes Marin, and Sandra Castro Paniagua
Problems of Joint Interdisciplinary Research in Women’s Studies:
An Effort to Integrate Disciplines for More Fruitful Analysis 310

34 ° Iennifer K0zlow—Rodrz’guez

The Predictability of Cesarean-Section Births: A Case Study
of Students in Costa Rican Childbirth Classes 316

Ilse Abshagen Leitinger
Conclusion for an Action-Oriented Research Agenda 334

Glossary 341

Index 357

Contents

university graduates, teachers, typist secretaries, accountants, nurses, women
who completed elementary school and could speak one foreign language,
women who graduated from private schools, women who spoke two or more
foreign languages, and, finally, women who owned land or property (Bara-
hona, 1986: 132-33).

The suffragists were responding to the carrot the patriarchs had held out in
1924 and to their own privileged status. Hoping to placate men, they avoided a
radical course and endorsed a classist and racist proposal. By now, the league
was familiar with all the arguments opponents were publicly debating. Op-
position was fierce. In a series of articles Acufia spoke out for the professional
educated woman; in one, she stated, “Costa Rica has a large number of out-
standing women. Denial of their political rights constitutes a violation of the
principles of justice. The vote is for those of us who deserve it” (La Nueva
Prensa, 1931). She poignantly accused male politicians of using women for their
political benefit: “There are ladies in this country whom many gentlemen do
not consider worthy of voting during times of political tranquility. Yet, when
in trouble, they seek their support. . . . Many meetings in those ladies’ homes
were both private and political in nature” (La Nueva Prensa, 1931).

Action on the proposed amendment was delayed for one year. In a letter
signed by Acufia on June 23, 1932, the league asked the assembly to discuss the
question; they were informed that it had been submitted to a legislative com-
mission and sent to the archives, i.e., tabled (Chacon, 1984: 105). No protests,
no public demonstrations! But the matter had been put to rest for only a short
time. On May 10, 1934, the Liga Feminista, spearheaded by Acufia, again de-
manded that women’s right to vote be considered (Barahona, 1986: 137). A
change in the long list of potential qualified women voters deleted those who
had graduated from private schools.

By this time, opponents’ arguments were well known: Women’s place was in
the home, away from the dirt and corruption of politics; women would lose
their femininity and all those virtues men wanted them to have; women were
not educated enough and would therefore complicate rather than simplify the
political process; and of course, giving women the vote would destroy the
family. The motion did not even make it to the plenary session. It was sent
directly to the archives. However, the matter was intensely discussed, for the
league was a well—run organization with numerous members. The proposal
also did have the support of some legislators.

In 1939, the Liga Feminista submitted another demand to the legislature,

76 Sara Sharratt

arguing that the 1871 Constitution did not exclude women. Again, the request
failed to make it to the plenary session. The system was so conservative and
repressive that the struggle would last ten more years.

Women Defending Democratic Processes, 1943, 1947

The period from 1940 to 1948 is considered one of the most significant in Costa
Rican history. In 1940, Rafael Angel Calderon Guardia became president, sup-
ported by his conservative predecessor Leon Cortés and the oligarchy. Cortés
had staunchly opposed women’s rights. Calderon, despite his previous politi-
cal alliances, introduced broad social reforms that not only alienated the oli-
garchy but also won him the support of both the Communist party and
progressive church leaders (Barahona, 1986: 168).  

THE PROTEST OF MAY 15, 1943

On May 15, 1943, women and students organized to protest a proposed elec-
toral reform. The demonstration was unparalleled in Costa Rican history.

In 1943, President Calderon was supporting the presidential candidacy of
his protegé Teodoro Picado against Leon Cortés. Picado’s party faction in the
assembly, i.e., the faction of the executive branch, prepared an electoral reform
to give the executive branch significant powers in overseeing the elections. On
May 12, students led a demonstration (Calvo, 1989a: 182) and many women
joined their ranks. On May 14—given that the proposed “reform” had been
introduced, approved at first reading, and was ready for a vote count in one of
the fastest moves ever seen in the Legislative Assembly—numerous women
sent a letter to President Calderon asking him to veto the bill, pointing out that
it would ensure fraud (Calvo, 1989a: 183). Calderon ignored them. Acufia and
many others organized a major protest march for May 15. On May 14, candi-
date Picado asserted, “We do not need these hysterical women to win” (Calvo,
1989a: 184). The demonstration was so successful that the press noted, “We
have never seen a feminine movement of this caliber before” (cited in Calvo,
1989a: 183). La Ultima Hora editorialized on May 16 that it was “a triumph of
Costa Rican women” (cited in Calvo, 1989a: 185). The proposed electoral re-
form was withdrawn.

For women’s issues, however, the victory was not so c1ear—cut. Carvajal and
Acufia again found themselves behaving as political opponents, although they
favored similar issues. As a leader of the Communist party, Carvajal was sup-
porting, albeit partially, Picado’s candidacy, and she was loyal to him, just as

The Sufiragist Movement, 1889-1949 77

Acufia had remained loyal to Tinoco from 1917 to 1919 and had remained silent
during the huge grassroots movement against him.

Meanwhile, conservative-opposition candidate Cortés was now actively
courting women by supporting their right to vote. His party pushed a reform
to Article I of the Electoral Law (Ley de Elecciones, Articulo 1) to read: “The
right to vote is essentially a political right and must be exercised by citizens,
male or female, for whom it is a right and an obligation” (Calvo, 1989a: 188).
Acufia and the league, realizing that the reform was losing, began an intense
lobbying campaign. A countercampaign of ridicule and accusations of oppor-
tunism against Cortés mocked women’s efforts to secure their political rights.
Typical of this criticism was a new play, Las Candidatas (The women candi-
dates), in which suffragists were ridiculed (Calvo, 1989a: 193). \/Vhen the play’s
opening was announced, the league organized a protest meeting in which 560
women subsequently demanded its cancellation. '

Although the league’s efforts to close Las Ccmdidatas were successful, its
support of the reform was not. In what historians now label a fraudulent
election (Vega, 1982), Picado became president, and the proposed modifica-
tion of Article I of the Electoral Law was never discussed. Still, the official
opposition party had supported women’s right to vote. With that, the issue had
finally become a part of the patriarchy’s political games.

Looking back on this time, Manuel Mora, who was the leader of the Com-

munist party in 1943, claimed in 1986 that the reformist Calderonistas had been  

against the women’s Vote in 1943 because they were afraid to alienate the
Catholic Church, and that their conservative opponent Cortés had used it only
as a political ploy against the ruling party (Barahona, 1986: 176). Mora also
stated, “Women don’t gain anything if we allow them to vote in a booth filled
with capitalists. They must have the right to Vote, but there are other rights,
too, . . . to be mothers . . . to have their children protected” (Barahona, 1986:
234). Clearly, men of all political persuasions avoided making women’s issues
central in their struggles.

THE PROTEST o1= AUGUST 2, 1947

The results of the 1946 midterm elections were met by a flood of accusations of
fraud. The conservative opposition, now headed by Otilio Ulate, tried to form
an alliance with President Picado on condition that Picado dissolve his associa-
tion with the Communist party. When this failed, the conservatives launched a
strike, demanding that the next elections be clean and that eX—president Cal-
deron not run for reelection (Chacon, 1984: 132). The strike was prompted by

78 Sara Sharratt

police attacks on student demonstrators. Violence escalated and businesses
that closed in support of the strike were looted (Chacon, 1984: 141).

Emma Gamboa, president of the teachers’ union, emerged as a leader and
coordinated a protest movement against the government (Chacon, 1984: 142).
Once again, women’s political rights were not the central issue, though by now
they were on the platform of one of the leading parties. On August 1, 1947, a
large number of women, headed by Gamboa, sent a proclamation to the press.
They demanded an end to violence, asked Calderon to leave the country, and
announced a demonstration. They declared that women carrying flags and
singing the national anthem would march to the president’s house in a peace-
ful protest against all the violence and political corruption.

On August 2, after receiving assurances of police protection, the women
marched to President Picado’s palace. He talked to them in the street and said
sarcastically, “Since it is August 2 [the day of the Virgin Mary, the patroness of
Costa Rica], ask her for a miracle” (cited by Chacon, 1984: 101). Gamboa and
her demonstrators decided they would remain overnight in front of the presi-
dent’s house to continue the peaceful protest. That evening, the president sent
a message that he would not sign anything unless they left. Not wanting him to
use their presence as an excuse for his refusal to act to end the violence, they
proceeded to leave (Chacon, 1984: 162). At that point, all hell broke loose.
Army soldiers began shouting obscenities and striking the women with black-
jacks. Margarita de Guzman, a participant, reported, “Defenseless women
were shot at with machine guns. We were returning home, singing the national
anthem and then it happened. At that moment, they started shooting at us. . . .
Finally, we broke into two groups . . . and had to tolerate the insults and
obscenities soldiers yelled at us” (DMF, 1982: 33-34). At one point she was hit
with a gun when she refused to lie on the ground. Elena Lopez, who partici-
pated and was hit by a bullet, later said, “God wanted me to survive so I could
see the women teachers and the Costa Rican ladies perform such incredible
acts of courage” (Diario de Costa Rica, 1947, August 12: 1, 12).

On August 3, President Picado signed written guarantees for democratic
free elections. The coalition—conservatives, teachers, and students—called off
their strike. Thousands of women had demonstrated on August 2; they repre-
sented all political parties, social classes, and ages. At the head of this group
were women teachers, led this time by Gamboa.

Meanwhile, Acufia had moved to Los Angeles, and the Liga Feminista had
ceased to participate as an organization in the women’s movement. A new
generation of teachers and university students had emerged during this last

The Suflragist Movement, 1889-1949 79

confrontation. Once again, women leaders had worked for the survival of the
democratic process during a period when Costa Rican democracy did not even
recognize them as citizens. Yet teachers, students, and the middle classes had
become the base of a new social democratic party under which they would
finally win the vote in 1949.

THE FINAL PHASE

Matters worsened and led to a civil war in 1948. At the end of it, Calderon was
exiled and Otilio Ulate, now supporting women’s political rights, became
president. On June 20, 1949, assembly member Ortiz Martin introduced a bill
which redefined citizenship: “Citizenship is an aggregate of duties and political
rights to which all Costa Ricans of either sex who are eighteen years or older
are entitled.” Ortiz called women’s participation in the civil war “sufficient
grounds to grant them the vote” (Barahona, 1986: 191). It appeared the bill
would easily pass, but assembly member Chacon Iinesta asked for further
discussion (DMF, 1982: 39). He said that in his own personal poll he had found
that the majority of the women were against the vote, and he cited the familiar
arguments that politics was dirty and women should not be polluted, that they
were not educated enough for the vote, and so on. One amendment suggested,
“Voting would increase divorces. I would be willing to grant the vote to those
twenty—five years old, single, widowed, or divorced” (DMF, 1982: 32). Chacon
finally agreed women should vote, but he warned, “The vote is not a reward
but a cross to bear. 1 base this on my personal poll, which tells me that women
do not want to vote” (DMF, 1982: 39).

In a 33—to—8 vote, the bill finally passed on June 20, 1949. All citizens, male or
female, age twenty and over, could now vote (DMF, 1982: 35: see also Constitu-
ci0’n politica, 1987 for age amendment). Costa Rican women cast their first
votes on a referendum on July 31, 1950. The first woman to vote, Ramona Cruz,
age 82, traveled on horseback for an hour and a half to get to the voting place
(Chacon, 1984: 201). Three years later, in 1953, Costa Rican women voted for
the first time in a presidential election.

Postscript

The early suffragists went on to varying experiences. On June 25, 1949, Acufia,
then in Los Angeles, sent a congratulatory letter to the Legislative Assembly
(Barahona, 1986: 200). She was named Mujer de las Américas in 1957, and later

80 Sara Sharratt

was the first woman ambassador to the Organizacion de Estados Americanos
(OEA) (Organization of American States) (Calvo, 1989a: 219-20). Carvajal was
forced into exile and died in Mexico in 1949, without having been allowed to
return to Costa Rica. She is considered a pioneer and innovator in Costa Rican
literature and one of its proudest citizens. Gamboa was minister of education
in 1949 in the Ulate administration. She later became the founder and first
dean of the Escuela de Pedagogia (School of Education) at the Universidad de
Costa Rica.

In another ironical twist, the clause “citizens of either sex,” which had been
added in 1949, was found unconstitutional by the assembly on May 17, 1971; the
assembly stated that by definition “citizen” included both women and men.
Acufia had always been right!

\/Vhen Acufia was named Woman of the Americas, Alberto Cafias, Costa
Rica’s ambassador to the United Nations, said, “The history of Costa Rica
cannot be written without its women, and the history of women in Costa Rica
cannot be written without Dofia Angela” (cited in Calvo, 1989a: 214). To this
statement we add, “nor without many others who are still waiting to be lifted
from obscurity.” It would have been so much easier if their voices could have
been heard from the beginning.

Biodata

Sara Sharratt has a Ph.D. in clinical psychology and is a professor of counseling at
Sonoma State University in Rohnert Park, California. In her private practice as a
clinical psychologist she created the first women’s counseling center in California. As
Fulbright lecturer (1986-88) she taught the first graduate courses in women’s studies
at the Centro Interdisciplinario de Estudios de la Mujer (CIEM) (Center for Inter-
disciplinary Women’s Studies), now the Instituto de Estudios de la Mujer (IEM) (In-
stitute of Women’s Studies), at the Universidad Nacional (UNA) in Heredia. She acted
as a consultant in 1988-89 for the Universidad de Costa Rica and the Universidad
Nacional in the development of a joint master’s program in women’s studies, which
was inaugurated in the fall of 1993. She has written articles and books on family therapy
and cross—cultural therapy and has done extensive research on sex roles and violence
against women.

References

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Ramos.

Acufia, Angela. 1969. La mujer costarricense a través de cuatro siglos. San Jose: Imprenta
Nacional.

The Sufiragist Movement, 1889-1949 81

Alfaro, Carlos, and Francisco Rios. 1984. La educacion: Fragua de nuestra democracia.
San José: Editorial Costa Rica.

Barahona, Macarena. 1986. “Las luchas sufragistas de la mujer en Costa Rica, 1890-
1949.” Thesis, Universidad de Costa Rica.

Calvo, Yadira. 1989a. Angela Acafia: Forjadora de estrellas. San José: Editorial Costa
Rica.

—. 1989b. “El lenguaje y la ley.” Paper delivered at the Seventh Interdisciplinary
Congress of Human Rights. August 15.

Centro Nacional para el Desarrollo de la Mujer y la Familia (CMF). 1988. Situacion
de la mujer en Costa Rica: 1975-85. San José: Ministerio de Cultura, Juventud y
Deportes. . 4

Chacon, Carmen Maria. 1984. “Las mujeres del 2 de Agosto de 1947 en la Vida politica
del pais.” Thesis, Universidad de Costa Rica.

Colegio de Abogados (CA). 1946. Digesto constitucional de Costa Rica. San José.

“Confrontacion analitica.” 1887a. La ensenanza: Revista de instruccion pablica, ciencias,
literatura y arte, no. 5 (January): 341-62.

Constitacion politica de la Repablica de Costa Rica. 1987. Costa Rica: Imprenta Nacional.

Diario de Costa Rica. 1926. July 16, p. 13.

——. 1931. “Asamblea feminista.” September 14, pp. 1a, 5a, 5b.

———. 1947. August 12, pp. 1, 12.

Direccion General de Mujer y Familia (DMF). 1982. Algunos aspectos relativos al voto
femenino en Costa Rica. San Jose: Ministerio de Cultura, Juventud y Deportes.

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El Mentor Costarricense. 1844. October 26.

—. 1846. “Educacion.” October 16.

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y desarrollo de la educacion de la mujer en Costa Rica, 1847-1886.” Thesis, Univer-
sidad de Costa Rica.

Ferro, Cora, and Ana Maria Quiros. 1988. Mujer, realidad religiosa y comunicacion. San
José: EDUCA.

Garcia, Ana Isabel, and Enrique Gomariz. 1989. Majeres centroamericanas. Tomo I.
Tendencias estructurales. San José: FLACSO.

Gross, Susan Hill, and Marjorie Wall Bingham. 1985. Women in Latin America: The 20th
Century. St. Louis Park, Minn.: Glenhurst Publications.

La Ensenanza. 1887.

La Gaceta. 1925a. March 6.

——. 1925b. April'2.

La Informacion. 1913. May 13.

La Nueva Prensa. 1931. June 12.

Odio, Elizabeth. 1989. Personal communication. September 10. Minister of Justice,
1978-82 and 1990-94, and Family Code reformer.

Sherman, Mary. 1984. Costa Rican Women on the Threshold of Change. San José: Cana-
dian Corporation Program, Canadian Embassy.

82 Sara Sharratt

Trejos, Jose’ Ioaquin. 1989. “El alma de nuestra democracia.” La Nacién. August 27,
p. 15a.

Vega, Iosé Luis. 1982. Poder politico y democracia en Costa Rica. San Jose’: Editorial
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San Ioséz Editorial Costa Rica.

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The Sujfragist Movement, 1889-1949 83

9 3% Unusual Costa Rican Women

Three Who Were Proclaimed “Distinguished
Citizens of the Nation”

Ana Isabel Gamboa Herncindez and
Sara Gurfinkiel Hermann

The Benemeritazgo de la Patria (distinguished citizenship of the nation) is the
highest honor the Costa Rican state can bestow on a citizen who has contrib-
uted in extraordinary ways to the progress and welfare of the country. The title
is conferred by the Comision de Honores (Honors Commission), which is
composed of members of the Legislative Assembly. It is confirmed by the
whole assembly.

Since the award was established at the end of the nineteenth century, fifty-
four citizens have been recipients, only three of them women (Fernandez,
1987). This study describes the contributions these women made to the na-
tion’s history, identifies the reasons they were nominated, and suggests expla-
nations for why so few women received the award. It concludes with a proposal
for developing fitting criteria that will open the selection process to more
women nominees.

Originally, the Benemeritazgo was awarded only to presidents of the re-
public, while they were in power. A significant contribution to society’s well-
being was not an essential criterion—the award was somewhat congratulatory
in its early years. The Benemeritazgo was accompanied by other titles, some of
them military, so that one would address a recipient of the award as “Your
Excellency, General and Distinguished Citizen, Sefior . . .” (Fernandez, 1987: 6).
The award process has changed since its nineteenth-century origin. The four
members of the Comision de Honores now determine the criteria, which have
differed markedly over time. Thus, for example, the title has been awarded
posthumously in recent years. To nobody’s surprise, no woman has ever been a
member of the commission. In our research we found no continuous docu-

34

mentation or systematic analysis of the award or of the selection process. We
hope this presentation will stimulate interest in further inquiry.

Three Distinguished Female Citizens

The three women who were named distinguished citizens were Maria Emilia
Solorzano Alfaro, a president’s wife who is believed to have supported mea-
sures of social benefit; Emma Gamboa Alvarado, an educator of great national
and international stature; and Angela Acufia Braun, Costa Rica’s first woman
lawyer and an ardent civil rights activist.

Maria Emilia Solorzano Alfaro (1835-1914)

Little is really known about Maria Emilia Solorzano. She came from the prov-
ince of Alajuela, where she was a member of one of Alajuela’s leading families;
this had instilled in her “piety, compassion for the needy, good work habits,
simplicity, and kindness” (Acufia, 1969, 1: 92-93). She married Tomas Guardia,
who in or out of the presidency controlled Costa Rica from 1870 to 1882.

As Guardia’s wife, Maria Emilia Solorzano traveled widely. She returned
from one of her travels, a trip to France, having made the decision to establish
a girls’ high school, El Colegio de Nuestra Sefiora de Sion, in the city of
Alajuela. According to tradition, another of her achievements was that she
collaborated efficiently in favor of, and probably was the inspiration for, the
suppression of the death penalty in Costa Rica. Little more has been written
about Maria Emilia Solérzano. No records tell whether she had to struggle to
achieve her goals of girls’ education or the abolishment of the death penalty.
She was awarded the Benemeritazgo de la Patria (award for distinguished
citizenship) on April 10, 1972 (Acufia, 1969, 1: 92-93).

Emma Gamboa Alvarado ( 1901-1971 )

Emma Gamboa was also from the province of Alajuela, where she obtained her
early education. She then attended a teacher’s training institute, the Escuela
Normal de Heredia (Heredia Normal School), which later became the Depar-
tamento, now is the Escuela de Pedagogia at the Universidad de Costa Rica.
Gamboa earned a B.A. in education; an M.A. in education; and, in 1947, a
Ph.D. in philosophy from the University of Ohio in Columbus, Ohio. She
returned to dedicate herself “to teaching, as preschool, elementary, and sec-
ondary teacher, minister of public education, dean of the now Escuela de

Unusual Costa Rican Women 85

Acknowledgments

Thanks to Alda Facio and Matilde Lopez, members of the local edi-
torial committee, for diverse disciplinary expertise and insight into
local conditions; to Montserrat Sagot and Alda Facio for comments
on the introduction; to the authors and co—authors for their contri-
butions; to the Instituto de Estudios de la Mujer (IEM) at the Uni-
versidad Nacional, Heredia, Costa Rica, Grinnell College, Grinnell,
Iowa, the Institute for Central American Development Studies
(ICADS), San Jose, Costa Rica, and the Council for International
Exchange of Scholars, Washington, D.C., for institutional support.
My special thanks to editor—in-chief Catherine Marshall of the Uni-
versity of Pittsburgh Press for support and advice, and to in—house-
editor Nancy Fleming for creative editing, perceptive thinking that
respects the editor’s opinion, and for help in conveying Costa Rican
women’s insights. and experiences to non—Costa Rican readers.
Working with Nancy was an inspiration. Sincere thanks to Toby
Ewing, Sarah Shikes, and Beth Prullege for editing assistance in
Costa Rica.

Pedagogia, at the Universidad de Costa Rica, and as founder of the Escuela
Laboratorio (laboratory school)” (Fernandez, 1987: 115).

Gamboa published widely. Her first book, published in 1935 was the Nuevo
silabario (New reader), which changed teaching in all of Costa Rica. In Nuevo
silabario, Gamboa emphasized that a book to teach reading must have mean-
ing for a child and must lead the child to reading gradually, without losing the
connections between the written word, the spoken word, and the child’s world.
She used as her themes the home, games, school, nature, and Costa Rican
folklore. Gamboa also wrote children’s books, such as Lectura activa (Active
reading) (1936), and the famous Paco y Lola (1960). Her stories and verses for
children were well loved.

In her scholarly work, Emma Gamboa proposed a holistic democratic edu-
cation, with attention to the country’s history. She stressed the dignity of the
individual and the dynamics and creativity of the child. She taught that knowl-
edge is not education and that learning has to be “motivated by experience,
acquired through experience, and connected to later experience to be incorpo-
rated into our lives” (Gamboa, 1976: 29).  

In 1950, she was declared Woman of the Year by Mademoiselle magazine,
and she figured among the ten most outstanding women in different parts of
the Americas. She received the Benemeritazgo de la Patria on May 27, 1980
(Fernandez, 1987: 2off).

Angela Acana Braun (1888-1983)

Angela Acufia came from Cartago and graduated in 1916 from law school in
San Jose. The country’s first woman lawyer, she fought for women’s legal
equality and against prejudice, even before she had graduated from law school.

In 1915, Angela founded the review Figaro, to which the best writers of the
Americas contributed. In 1916 she presented to the Legislative Assembly a first
petition to broaden women’s options for practicing law (Calvo, 1989: 79). In
1924 she conducted a campaign in support of women school teachers, who
fought against proposed salary differences between men and women. She also
presented to the assembly for the first time the demand for women’s right to
vote (see Sharratt, chap. 8 above). She addressed many presidents in the West-
ern hemisphere in her demands for this right (Soto, 1975). Years later, she
achieved her goal of seeing Costa Rican women serve as notaries, judges,
mayors, and Supreme Court justices (Calvo, 1989).

In 1940 Angela Acufia founded the Costa Rican branch of the Panamerican
Roundtable, an early human rights organization. This was followed a year later

86 Ana Isabel Gamboa Hernandez and Sara Gurfinkiel Hermann

by her appointment as delegate to the Comisién Interamericana de Mujeres
(CIM) (Inter-American Commission of Women) in Washington, D.C. (Fer-
nandez, 1987: 41).

At about this time, Acufia also began to write her historic study La mujer
costarricense a través de cuatro siglos (Costa Rican women in four centuries),
which was published in 1969. In 1953 she did a comparative study of legislation
on women for the Union Panamericana. She was named ambassador of Costa
Rica before the Organizacion de Estados Americanos (OEA) in 1957 and, in
that same year, was named Woman of the Americas. On Iune 7, 1982, Angela
Acufia was awarded the Benemeritazgo de la Patria (Calvo, 1989: 236).

A Request to the Comision de Honores

In view of the importance of the contributions of these three women, why has
the Comision de Honores not awarded the honor of Benemeritazgo de la
Patria to more women?

One major reason is that society has prevented women from taking an
active part in the nation’s affairs. Compared with men, women had only
limited access to education until recent years. And those women who were
educated were not encouraged to participate in public life. \/\/hat a woman
needed to know, according to commonly held beliefs, was to run a house,
educate children, and prepare food for her family.

But there is a second and more important reason why so few women
received the Benemeritazgo de la Patria. The Comision de Honores has always
had an exclusively male membership. This all—male board of judges has consis-
tently ignored or undervalued women’s contributions to the national well-
being—and there were such contributions!

We therefore request that the Comision elaborate publicly its criteria and
rules for considering candidates for distinguished citizenship. We further re-
quest that these criteria be appropriate for assessing the contributions both of
outstanding Costa Rican men and of outstanding Costa Rican women. In
recent years, two women have been proposed for this award (Fernandez, 1987).
The first is Pancha Carrasco, the nineteenth—century heroine of the war against
William Walker (Calvo, chap. 1 above). The second is Maria Isabel Carvajal,
twentieth—century political leader, suffragist, and informal adviser and friend
of Costa Rican presidents. Carvajal, who is also a famous writer under the pen
name of Carmen Lyra, was recognized by the Legislative Assembly as Bene-
mérita de las Artes (distinguished person in the arts, in this case, distinguished

Unusual Costa Rican Women 87

writer), a title created especially for her (Sharratt, chap. 8 above). We suggest
that the Comision de Honores reconsider the candidacies of these two women
and identify other meritorious women so as to give women their rightful place
among Costa Rica’s distinguished citizens.

Biodata

Ana Isabel Gamboa Hernandez, a Costa Rican, received an M.S. in psychology from
the Universidade Catélica do Minas Gerais, Belo Horizonte, MG, Brazil. She pursued
graduate studies at the Centro Interdisciplinario de Estudios de la Mujer (CIEM)
(Center for Interdisciplinary Women’s Studies), now the Instituto de Estudios de la
Mujer at the Universidad Nacional. She Works as a clinical and industrial psychologist
and consultant for industrial enterprises.

Sara Gurfinkiel Hermann, a Costa Rican, completed a licenciatura in psychology at
the Universidad de Costa Rica and did graduate workat CIEM. She taught at the
Universidad Autonoma de Centro America and conducted research at the Instituto del
Nifio, Centro de Investigacién y Docencia en Educacion (CIDE) (Children’s Institute,
Center for Research and Training in Education) at the Universidad Nacional. In 1992
she went to pursue graduate studies in Mexico and is currently working there.

References

Acufia Braun de Chacén, Angela. 1969. La mujer costarricense a través de cuatro siglos.
Vols. 1 and 2. San Jose: Imprenta Nacional.

Calvo, Yadira. 1989. Angela Acuna. Forjadora de estrellas. San José: Editorial Costa Rica.
Fernandez Rivera, Felipe. 1987. Beneméritos de la patria. San Jose: Imprenta Nacional.
Gamboa, Emma. 1935. Nuevo silabario. San Jose: Imprenta Lehmann.

——. 1936. Lectura activa. San Jose: Imprenta Lehmann.

—. 1960. Paco y Lola. San Iosé: Imprenta Atenea.

——. 1976. Educacién en una sociedad libre. San Jose: Editorial Costa Rica.

Soto, Jorge Luis. 1975. Galleria de valoresfemeninos. San Jose: Litografia A.B.C.

Acknowledgments

The authors did this study as participants in the graduate seminar “Women in History:
From Invisibility to Visibility” at the Centro Interdisciplinario de Estudios de la Mujer,
now Instituto de Estudios de la Mujer (IEM) (Institute of Women’s Studies), at the
Universidad Nacional in the fall of 1988. Emma Gamboa, one of Costa Rica’s distin-
guished women citizens, is the first author’s aunt who made a deep impression upon
her when she was a child. Both authors thank Professor Clotilde Obregon of the
History Department of the Universidad de Costa Rica, and Felipe Fernandez Rivera,
chief of archives of the Costa Rican Legislative Assembly, for comments on an earlier
draft of the paper.

88 Ana Isabel Gamboa Hernandez and Sara Gurfinkiel Hermann

10 %% Peasant Women’s Autobiographies
Women’s Double Contribution to the Rural Economy

Zaira Escamilla Gatiérrez and Lorena Vargas Mora

This study is an analysis of five farm women’s autobiographies selected from
the twenty-six included in the five-volume Autobiografias campesinas (AC),
published in 1979 by the Escuela de Planificacion y Promocion Social (School
of Planning and Social Development) of Costa Rica’s Universidad Nacional
(UNA). To encourage the expression and collection of experiences of rural
people, UNA had asked farmers to submit entries in a competition for the best
campesino autobiographies. Many more entries arrived than could be selected
for the final published selection.

These five exceptional women were born between the end of the nineteenth
century and the middle of the twentieth. They are identified as ERGP, born in
1889 (AC, 1979, 4); Angelita, born in 19o6 (AC, 1979, 1); Rosalinda, born in
approximately 1938 (AC, 1979, 4); CMS, born in 1947 (AC, 1979, 4); and Campe-
sina Feliz (happy woman farmer), born in 1948 (AC, 1979, 4). They had the
audacity to consider their life histories important and worthy of being told, so
they grasped the opportunity of making them known.

The autobiographies of the five farm women are historic documents of
great value; they offer a wealth of detail that permits a closer look at the way of
life, the feelings, and the thoughts of Costa Rican peasant women. Although
the autobiographies are rich sources of information about many other aspects
of these women’s lives, this analysis limits its focus primarily to their economic
contribution to the survival and well—being of their society. The autobiogra-
phies offer a rare view, often hidden by traditional literature and historiogra-
phy, of the work women have done as basic participants in the economic
process throughout history. From these writings one can glean the importance
of women’s twofold contribution to the agricultural economy through their
work in the fields and their reproductive contribution to their families’ sur-
vival, first in their families of origin (their parents’ families) and thereafter in
their families of orientation (the families they and their husbands founded).

89

Women’s Economic Lives Within Their Parents’ Families

The information about the organization of the economic enterprise in the
women’s families of origin can be assessed according to landholding; agricul-
tural production; the division of labor into women’s work, children’s work,
and men’s work; and the control of the product of this labor. The five parental
families—the women’s families of origin—were rural, composed usually of
biological father and mother, though one family had a stepfather. The families
were large, with an average of seven children; all five women referred to the
constant pregnancies of their mothers. Each family had a house in the village,
where the mother remained to take care of the small children, animals, and
produce and grain processing. The father constructed a little hut wherever he
worked the land and took his older sons and daughters to live there with him.

Landholding

The families either raised their crops on unoccupied plots of land that they did T

not officially own, or they rented lands. The land was basically virgin forest
land, which the whole family cleared for cultivation without mechanical tools.
Having cleared the land, the families then often acquired ownership of it by
gradually purchasing small plots. In all cases, the transactions were handled by
men and the property eventually was held by the men.

Agricultural Production

The crops the families cultivated were basically subsistence crops: rice, corn,
beans, legumes, and vegetables. They had a few animals to provide eggs, milk,
and meat for home consumption. The father of the family usually sold the
small quantities of excess products to acquire other items the family needed in
its daily life, such as spices, clothes, candles, and medicines.

Division of Labor

The women’s workweek included many activities. They washed clothes in the
river and carried water from it. They took care of children. They cooked,
ironed, and swept and cleaned the house. They prepared the soil for planting,
and they also cultivated and processed by hand the farm products: coffee,
sugar cane, rice, beans, and tubers. In addition, they salted meat, milked cattle,
fed domestic animals, and cut and carried wood. When their men went to
other parcels of land to plant or were away selling cattle or other agricultural
products, the women had to take on the additional tasks of maintaining the

90 Zaira Escamilla Gutiérrez and Lorena Vargas Mora

fields and taking care of the remaining cattle and horses, moving them from
one pasture to another.

Such multiple tasks were the building blocks of the lives of these women: “I
picked coffee and planted bananas, yucca, sugar cane, beans, ‘corn, yams,
fiampi [a type of yucca], and rice. I cut fire wood. I planted cucumbers. I
threshed beans and peeled rice. I raised chickens. I handled a rifle of sixteen
shots. I cleaned fallow land with a machete. I cooked, washed, ironed, took
care of children, ran errands, and did the housecleaning” (CMS, 1979, 2: 42).

Children had to participate in fieldwork as well as housework. They cared
for younger siblings, ironed, carried water, washed clothes in the rivers, herded
and cared for animals, dried grains in the sun, gathered fruits and vegetables,
fished, husked and shelled corn, milked cows and made cheese from the milk,
cooked, cleaned the house, and weeded fields. They also helped the farmhands,
which meant going to the field, preparing food, fetching water, and keeping
the fire going.

The women wrote in their autobiographies about the repeated pregnancies
of their mothers, and how they resulted in the daughters’ permanent par-
ticipation in housework and in taking care of younger brothers and sisters.
Even very young daughters lent a hand:

One day, my mother had just been given another daughter. My father had gone to
work. He was late, and mother was crying because she was hungry. I could not
cook—I was barely five years old. But father had prepared a pot with green plantains
[cooking bananas] and beans. When I saw it I decided by myself to climb on a chair,
and thus took her a plate. When father came, mother had finished it all (CMS, 1979,
2: 26).

Another gave a glimpse of the role of the oldest daughter:

I had to help my mother with the housework, because we were many brothers and
sisters, and my mother bore children like a good fruit tree bears fruit. Since my
sisters were younger than 1, they were not of much help, and I had to go to the river
with the heavy wooden washboard piled high with dirty clothes from the entire
week, for there were many men (ERGP, 1979, 4: 119).

Balancing education and work at home was not always easy. After school, the
young girls had to work hard to help, sometimes replacing the mother so that
she could move on to other work: “I used to go to school and then come home
to wash the diapers of my little brothers, clean, put on the water for coffee. . . .
When Mother went to work, she left me to take care of my little brothers”
(CMS, 1979, 2: 27). At least one farm daughter did not think that education was

Peasant Women’s Autobiographies 91

92

a priority, however. Angelita wrote, “When I finished fourth grade and entered
fifth, I was eleven years old. I did not want to go on . . . because I thought I was
too old to continue going to school. What happened then was that I went to
cook for men who worked in the fields.” (Angelita, 1979, 1: 11). Others liked
going to school and believed they did well. Campesina Feliz finished the six
years of primary school, and Rosalinda completed three of the four years of
secondary school and also took music lessons. CMS completed her studies
in the 1970s by means of extension work. (Extension courses have been and
are still widely available in Costa Rica, at all levels—primary, secondary, and
university.)

The one woman who had never attended school, ERGP wrote about the
school she and other parents built for their own children: “Now at least the
children will not be as illiterate as their poor parents who never even went to
school” (ERGP, 1979, 4: 128).

Men specialized basically in fieldwork, scouting virgin land, selecting crop-
land, preparing the soil, sowing, harvesting, and transporting the products.

Control of the Product of Family Labor

Men controlled the family’s income through acquiring properties and carrying
out transactions related to these properties. They also handled small—scale
commercial activities, such as the sale of farm produce and grains, and the
purchase of clothing, some foods, and some household utensils. None of the
women writers stated that their mother managed any money.

Women in the Families They Formed with Their Husbands

The authors of the autobiographies married peasants who worked as farm
laborers. The families they formed with these men were their families of
orientation. CMS married at age fourteen, but the other women were married
at a later age—ERGP and Angelita each at age thirty, Rosalinda and Campesina
Feliz each at age twenty—one.

The women’s own families were smaller than those of their mothers, with
an average of five children. In their stories they speak about moving frequently
because of the scarcity of available lands in their home villages and their lack of
inheritance. Angelita was the only one who did not move; she inherited a small
property from her parents.

Throughout their lives, these five women did many different types of work:
housework, farm work, paid employment, and political and communal ac-

Zaira Escamilla Gutiérrez and Lorena Vargas Mora

tivities. Some of them experienced significant changes in their social situation,
given that they had to assume, temporarily or permanently, the maintenance
of their families, and thus had to carry out many different tasks. Rosalinda
worked as a seamstress, saleswoman, and office worker before finally becom-
ing a public defender, a paralegal position that educated laypersons in rural
areas could achieve through much experience. She also participated in com-
munal activities. In one entry, she wrote, “At the moment, I continue with my
office work for the Guardia Rural [rural police force] station. I like that, and
about two months ago the Supreme Court decided to name me public de-
fender. I do work a lot, because really I have many things to do in the house
and outside. I have two sons in high school, three in elementary school, and
the smallest one in kindergarten” (Rosalinda, 1979, 4: 147-48).

CMS’s marriage broke up, and she assumed the responsibility of maintain-
ing her two children. She joined her mother and one of her sisters working as a
maid, cook, and dishwasher. Campesina Feliz stayed in agriculture, but with
the help of a loan, she managed to establish a farm operation growing rice. She
also participated actively in community organizations, in which she took on
leadership roles:

I must say I Very much like Working for the well—being of our community. Right
now I am secretary of the Integrated Development Association of this community,
president of the school board, president of the 4-H Club, and coordinator of the
Social Aid Commission. I am president of the Women’s Organization of the Libera-
cion Nacional party [equivalent to the Democratic party in the United States—Ed.] ,
and a few days ago I was elected as coordinator to represent the Integrated De-
velopment Association in the Youth and Sports Committee in this community.
Well, in all these committees I work hard and am delighted, because if there is
anything I like, it is to Work for the progress of our town (Campesina Feliz, 1979, 4:

155-56).

Only ERGP and Angelita remained simply farm women throughout their

lifetime.

Women’s Problems in Costa Rican Farm Life

The information these five authors provide in their autobiographies about the
working conditions for farmers and the participation of women as producers
and reproducers of the rural labor force allow us to draw certain conclusions
about the role women have played in the Costa Rican farm economy.

The primitive subsistence economy of the farm families, governed as it was

Peasant Women’s Autobiographies 93

by a scarcity of land, resources, and mechanical tools, accounts for the fact that
family labor was the only method by which these families survived. Land was
cultivated for production through the joint efforts of men, women, and chil-
dren who had to invest a great amount of time and physical labor to achieve a
basic subsistence. As their circumstances did not permit families to produce
many goods beyond those they needed for their own survival, an accumula-
tion of resources was practically impossible.

This form of economic production led to a division of labor through spe-
cialization of men’s and women’s activities. Men were responsible for field-
work, selection and preparation of land, and sowing, transport and sale of
crops. However, women did not enjoy a clear separation between housework
and fieldwork; they, too, participated in sowing, harvesting, and process-
ing crops. Moreover, adult women and girls were exclusively responsible for
housework. When men were absent—out scouting for new land or involved in
business transactions—women and children had to carry the entire work load
in house and fields.

As many details and anecdotes about childhoods full of work, deprivation,
and suffering illustrate, child labor acquired vital importance in this produc-
tion scheme. The authors emphasized their mothers’ hard work in house and
field, which their own apprenticeships perpetuated from early girlhood on.

Since transactions to obtain access to land and to acquire property were
open only to men, the marginalization of farm women did not result from the
work they did but rather from their restricted capacity to control the product
of their labors. As women’s work was part of nonremunerated family work,
their relation with agriculture was demonetized. This in turn put them at a dis-
advantage in a production process in which they invested untold hours and a
substantial amount of physical effort. Moreover, farm women’s domestic work,
because of the physical conditions under which it took place—given the quality
and location of housing and the absence of public services such as electricity,
potable water, and transport—did not permit the use of household technology.
Thus, the intensity of the work farm women had to do, together with their
frequent pregnancies, created precarious health conditions for them.

Comparing the Older and Younger Women Across Time

Table 10.1 compares these five women across time, and it reveals fewer differ-
ences than might be expected between those born around the turn of the
century and those born in the middle of the twentieth century. The older

94 Zaira Escamilla Gutiérrez and Lorena Vargas Mora

Table 10.1. The Five Farm Women Compared

Work
Date Experience
of Years of Age at Number of Other Than
Name Birth Education Marriage Children House, Farm Residence
ERGP 1889 none 30 4 and none farm
1 stepchild
Angelita 1906 4 (elem.) 30 9 none from farm
to coun-
try town
at old age
Rosalinda 1938? 3 (second.) 21 6 sales, seam- from farm
stress, of- to coun-
fice work, try town
public
defender
CMS 1947 3 (elem.) 14 5 housemaid, from farm
finished work in to coun-
through restaurant try town
extension as cook
studies and dish-
washer
Campesina 1948 6 (elem.) 21 2 housemaid from farm
Feliz to coun-
try town

women married later in their lives than did the younger ones, which may relate
to the relative isolation of farm families during the earlier period. As to num-
ber of children, only one of the older women—Angelita—had many. She had
nine, the others from two to five.

The greatest differences occurred in the type of work the women did. The
older ones never worked for pay outside of the home. Of the three younger
ones, only one—Rosalinda—worked as a semiprofessional. The others did
housework, even though they did it for pay outside their own homes.

All except one have moved around a good deal, accompanying fathers or
husbands who seemed constantly on the lookout for better ways to make a
living, and for new land. Even though all of these women worked from a very
early age, only one reported owning property, and she inherited it (Angelita,

1979.1: 37)-

Peasant W0men’s Autohiographies 95

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Conclusion

The five autobiographies offer us insights into Costa Rican farm women’s lives
for the period between approximately 1910 and 1975. During this time, women
made a twofold contribution to the farm economy, carrying the entire load of
productive and reproductive work in the home and sharing responsibility,
or sometimes assuming it completely, for the farm operation as well. Farm
women envisioned this as natural——as what they had to do. And throughout
their lives, they did so without obtaining control or even sharing in the control
over the product of their labor. The continuity and invisibility that character-
ize the domestic and agricultural work of farm women has not traditionally
been subsumed under the concept of La Doble Iornada (The Double Work
Day), which has been used rather to characterize the condition of women who
work outside the home in urban, industrial settings. However, the stories of
the five farm women fully illustrate that the concept fits their obligations
equally well. After all, their workday began long before daybreak and did not
end until long after dark.

Thus women contributed as the men did to their families’ economic success
and to the extension of agricultural cultivation. In addition, they ensured their
families’ physical reproduction and well-being. Unfortunately, traditional ana-
lysts of agricultural processes and rural life have failed to see this and simply
have not acknowledged the vital productive contribution of farm women to
what theoreticians have called “economic development.” Consequently, these
women did not share as they deserved to in the financial benefits from the
fruits of their labor.

The autobiographies also suggest that only in more recent years have farm
women branched out to nonfarm activities for wages, as well as to communal
involvement. Perhaps this is a first step on the part of these women toward
obtaining control over their own earnings.

Even though the present analysis limits itself to describing Women’s work in
agricultural communities or rural towns of Costa Rica, the Autobiografias
campesinas offer much additional information about other aspects of farm

A women’s lives. They are a rich source, for example, of women’s knowledge
about their bodies and physical health, and about women’s experience with
incest, violence, aggression, and abandonment. The Autobiografias campesinas
may lend an insight into women’s growing consciousness of their being ex-
ploited. All of these topics deserve closer attention and would complement the
present analysis.

96 Zaira Escamilla Gatiérrez and Lorena Vargas Mora

In essence, the lives of these women revolved around their children, hus-
bands, and work. One of them, Angelita, closes her autobiography by saying,
“I have twenty—siX grandchildren, nine greatgrandchildren——what more do I
want?” (Angelita, 1979, 1:40).

Biodata

Zaira Escamilla Gutierrez is a Costa Rican psychologist and a professor at the Univer-
sidad Nacional (UNA) in Heredia. She did graduate Work in women’s studies at the
Interdisciplinary Women’s Studies Center (CIEM), now the Institute for Women’s
Studies (IEM).

Lorena Vargas Mora is a clinical psychologist. Until 1992 she taught at the Univer-
sidad Nacional and has since been working in her own private clinic.

References

Escuela de Planificacion y Promocion Social. 1979. Autobiografias campesinas. Vols. 1, 2,
and 4. Heredia: Editorial Universidad Nacional.

Peasant Women’s Autobiographies 97


III $3 THE QUEST FOR woMEN’s EQUALITY

“One furthei . . . toward true equality.” L/ipositer that ijraises the paesage of
the Law for the Promotion of Women’s Social Equality

THE LAW IS an important component of Costa Rican life. Costa Ricans’ confi-
dence in their nonmilitarized democracy is based on their expectation that the
law should and will regulate the interaction of individuals and groups. You
cannot buy or sell a car or a house without a lawyer guiding you through the
myriad of formalities connected with such a transaction.

This does not mean, of course, that Costa Ricans always respect or obey
their laws, particularly if the latter contradict age—old cultural traditions or
patterns. In fact, knowing how far one can go in bending the law without

breaking it is a true survival skill. Moreover, diverse——frequently foreign— _

roots often make Costa Rican laws, codes, or legal stipulations inconsistent
with one another. Yet laws do proclaim ethical standards and ideals that may
someday become reality.
This background also applies to the question of Women’s legal status and
legal gender equality. This important aspect of human rights is still more a
long-term goal than a reality in Costa Rica. However, as the public debate
continues and grows stronger, not only government policies but also govern-
ment institutions are changing in response, and Costa Rican women are mak-
ing real gains. Thus, for instance, in October 1993 the Defensoria de los De-
rechos Humanos (Office of the Defender of Human Rights), including that of
the Defensoria de los Derechos Humanos de la Mujer (Office of the Defender
of Women’s Human Rights), was removed from the Justice Department to
ensure complete independence of decision making and actions, and it was
renamed Defensoria de los Habitantes (Office of the Defender of the Inhabi-
tants, or Office of the Ombudsman). As before, the Office of the Defender of
Women’s Rights remains part of this larger institution.
The present section of this Reader explores some of the complex recent
manifestations of the struggle for women’s legal equality.

The Law and Women’s Lives: Contradictions and Struggles,
by Tatiana Soto Cabrera

Tatiana Soto sets the stage for the discussion of women’s legal status by offering
an overview of the Costa Rican legal framework. She reviews obstacles to
Women’s rights in Costa Rica, such as the inadequacy of Costa Rican law and
the inconsistency of its administration, women’s ignorance about their rights,
and the cultural tradition of denying basic rightsto women. The author exam-
ines formal and informal dynamics affecting Women’s rights in the public
sphere—including the formal judicial framework, government institutions,

100 The Quest for Women’s Equality

and the broad, nongovernmental elements of the public sphere—and presents
the unequal power dynamics in the private sphere. A

Soto discusses the increasing institutionalization of processes that serve
women’s needs and notes the surprising international effect the Thomas—Hill
congressional hearings had on Costa Rican women’s readiness to denounce
sexual harassment. She presents a feminist rationale for the necessity of a total
transformation of society, and she sees some hope both in the increasing
governmental recognition of women’s needs and in women’s departure from a
traditional pattern of acquiescence.

Negotiating Women’s Legal Equality: Four Versions of a Law,
by Aixa Ansorena Montero

Aixa Ansorena presents the first of two accounts of the debate that raged from
1989 to 1990 in the Costa Rican Legislative Assembly over a famous bill designed
to achieve igualdad real—true equality—for women, a bill that finally passed in
modified form. Both accounts of the debate document the patience required to
obtain long—term gains for women. Ansorena offers a short description of the
political negotiation process that led to the bill’s passage——the bargaining and
the give and take. In addition, the author analyzes the four versions of the bill
that emerged during the Legislative Assembly’s two—year debate. In March 1990
the Proyecto de Ley sobre la Igualdad Real de la Mujer was passed as the
Proyecto de Ley de la Igualdad Real de la Mujer (Law for the Promotion of
Women’s Social Equality). The debate weakened some of the original provi-
sions, but in other areas the proposal retained its original content.

Leading Arguments Against Women’s Legal Equality:
Highlights of a National Debate, by Ana Elena Badilla Gomez

This second account of the Proyecto de Ley sobre la Igualdad Real de la Mujer
analyzes the national debate that followed the bill’s introduction into the Costa
Rican Legislative Assembly. The four principal objections to the bill were that
(1) its provision mandating gender proportionality in politics was unconstitu-
tional because it discriminated against men; (2) the bill was not needed be-
cause no discrimination against women existed; (3) the name of the bill was
inappropriate, since true equality between women and men was not a politi-
cally desirable outcome; and (4) the provision mandating shared financing of
day—care centers by working parents, employers, and government was unfair to
employers. The objections stimulated a societywide discussion about women’s

The Quest for Women’s Equality 101

subordination, which contributed to strengthening the feminist movement in
Costa Rica.

Redefining Political Equality: More Than Including Women,
by Alda Facio Montejo

Alda Facio concludes the section on the quest for women’s equality by raising
the fundamental theoretical—philosophical question of Whether legal equality
of the genders can ever be achieved. She contends that it cannot, unless se-
riously flawed basic concepts are redefined. True political equality for women
is impossible without a redefinition of essential components of Western legal

J) (C )) (C

thinking, such as “human being, citizenship, equality of men and women,”
and “equality before the law,” all of which are based on the erroneous andro-
centric assumption that white, middle-class, heterosexual males constitute the
quintessence of “human being.” She further argues that men and women are
“equally different,” and any valid definition of the above concepts must include

the respective differences of both genders.

102 The Quest for Women’s Equality

1 1 =3% The Law and Women’s Lives
Contradictions and Struggles

Tatiana Soto Cabrera

Throughout most of its history, Costa Rican society has denied women their
basic rights. Although women have made some progress in the formal legal
arena, such as achieving the right to vote in 1949 (see Sharratt, chap. 8 above)
and the promulgation of the Family Code in 1974, these measures often were
not consistent, frequently were not implemented, and certainly had little ef-
fect on women’s daily lives--particularly the lives of poor women. During
the 19805, new incentives inspired women of all strata to renew their efforts
to obtain their rights, often by initiating consciousness-raising and self—help
activities.

This analysis first highlights the obstacles to women’s rights in Costa Rica
and then surveys the formal and informal mechanisms and structures, in both
the public and private spheres, that form the framework for women’s struggles
during the 1990s.

Obstacles to Women’s Rights

Understanding the obstacles to women’s rights is the first step in planning a
strategy for the future. In Costa Rica, the obstacles that now exist are (1) the
inadequacy of the legal framework, in terms of laws and institutions, and the
inconsistencies in the administration of the law; (2) women’s ignorance about
their rights; and (3) a cultural tradition that denies women basic rights.

The Costa Rican Legal Framework and the Administration of the Law

Compared with other Latin American societies, Costa Rica’s legal framework
for women’s rights is relatively advanced. Problems arise, however, in the pro-
tection of women’s established rights. The legal codes are weakened by incon-
sistencies and voids, which are coupled with inadequate institutional processes
and adverse interpretations on the part of the authorities. For instance, under

103

the laws of the Patronato Nacional de la Infancia (PANI) (National Agency for
Child Protection), a battered woman may leave her home if the agency gives
her permission to do so. Under these circumstances, the law prohibits her
husband from accusing her of abandoning her family; he therefore cannot
withhold economic support. Under the Family Code of 1974, however, that
same act of leaving might cause the wife to lose some or all of her economic
rights. Unfortunately, National Agency officials often fail to apply their own
rule and, instead, ask the husband to sign a permit allowing his wife to leave. I
know of no case in which the husband consented to his wife’s leaving.

Women’s Ignorance About Their Rights

We must attribute women’s failure to exercise their recognized rights in part to
their ignorance of the codified laws. Awareness of this problem has been
growing in recent years and multiple efforts are now under way to provide
training and information. In one such effort, the Universidad Nacional (UNA)
offered the course “Women and Power” in 1987 (Ferro, chap. 28 below). In
1988, the Comité Latinoamericano para la Defensa de los Derechos de la Mujer
(CLADEM) (Latin American Committee for the Defense of Women’s Rights)
organized the seminar “Women and the Legal System.” An outgrowth of this
seminar was feminist input into the formulation of the Proyecto de Ley de la
Igualdad Real de la Mujer, which was debated in 1988-90 in the Costa Rican
Legislative Assembly (see Ansorena, chap. 12 below; Badilla, chap. 13 below;
Facio, chap. 14 below). That committee also sponsored in 1989 the first Inter-
national Conference on Women, Law, and Development in Central America
and Mexico, which provided a regional perspective and contributions on fam-
ily law, labor law, and laws regarding violence against women. That same year,
UNA offered a free survey course, “Women Facing Life and Law,” to non-
professionals, and a working session of professionals produced policy pro-
posals on human rights (Facio, 1989). Formal studies have analyzed the admin-
istration of justice (Molina, 1989) and the legal mechanisms that fail to protect
victims of sexual aggression, largely because of male biases in issues of rape
and in legal proceedings (Peralta, 1986; Soto, 1988). Another instance of grow-
ing awareness was, of course, the wide public debate over the Proyecto de Ley
sobre la Igualdad Real de la Mujer discussed in the Assembly (Ansorena, chap.
12 below). Though greatly modified before it passed, the new law nonetheless
constituted an advance for women’s rights in some fields (CMF, 1990).

Efforts to increase women’s awareness of their legal rights have met with
some success in recent years. Nevertheless, most of the advances in knowledge

104 Tatiana Soto Cabrera

and awareness have benefited highly educated women, leaving the great major-
ity of Costa Rican women ignorant of their rights under the law.

A Cultural Tradition of Denying Basic Rights

Advances in women’s legal awareness, however, do not alter the absence of
protection for women’s specific needs within the Costa Rican cultural system.
Vast discrepancies exist between the few legal benefits women enjoy and the
daily realities they encounter. The limitations on women’s enjoyment of a
better life, and their fears and weaknesses as they struggle toward that life,
confirm that the exploitative system of our culture is deeply embedded in our
national psychology. Countless husbands still dictate even the arrangement of
furniture in the home and the style of their wives’ hair or dress. Some also
refuse to grant their wives permission to work outside the home, to study, or
even to leave the house for shopping or social occasions.

Women’s Rights in the Public Sphere:
Formal and Informal Dynamics

The Formal Iadicial Framework

In Costa Rica, most laws that govern social problems are contained in the
Family Code, the Labor Code, and the Penal Code.

FAMILY CODE

The Family Code offers few appropriate procedural mechanisms. For example,
presumably to protect the family from state intervention, parties in a disputed
family case have to hire their own legal counsel except in cases that involve
children or child support issues. (In such cases, the Patronato Nacional de la
Infancia, PANI, is an interested party.) Legal services require financial re-
sources, which women often do not have. Furthermore, as a matter of princi-
ple, both parties to the conflict are considered equal, which ignores differences
in power and economic resources between men and women, which are often
quite large.

LABOR CODE

Unlike the Family Code, the Labor Code recognizes the inequalities between
the parties to the conflict—the employer and the employee. The code therefore
provides support to the worker in order to balance these inequalities. How-
ever, through segregation of certain categories of workers, many women are

The Law and Women’s Lives

105

INTRODUCTION

The Costa Rican Women’s Movement and
Costa Rican Feminism in the Early 1990s

Multiple, Dynamic, Action—Oriented
Ilse Abshagen Leitinger

Ilse Leitinger with former student Carol Weirs, taken at Annual Women’s March
Against Violence, November 24, 1995, San Iosé. Poster reads, “No More Violence
and Abuse.”

excluded from the general protection of the Labor Code. For example, domes-
tic workers, most of whom are women, are an excluded category.

PENAL CODE

The penal system is a complex governmental organization. In public interest
issues, the state carries all the cases, offering defendants state—paid public
defenders. Cases that concern family matters, however, are defined as within
the private domain, and in such cases the woman must hire her own legal
representative. Thus, in not paying legal services for private problems, the state
is, in fact, perpetuating male dominance.

Government Institutions

Government efforts to advance the status of women have grown over the years.
President Oscar Arias (1986-1990) confirmed the institutionalization of the
Centro Nacional para el Desarrollo de la Mujer y la Familia (CMF) as part of
the Ministerio de Cultura, Iuventud y Deportes (MCID) (CMF, 1990). He also
created, by executive decree, the Office of the Women’s Defender (La Gaceta,
1989). After the Proyecto de Ley sobre la Igualdad Real de la Mujer was revised
and passed as the Ley de Promocion de la Igualdad Social de la Mujer, this
Office of the Women’s Defender became, as part of the Ministry of Justice, a
more permanent institution than one created only by executive decree. Then,
in October 1993 it and the parallel offices that protect the interests of con-
sumers, children, the elderly, indigenous people, and other minorities were
removed from the Ministry of Justice to allow more independence of action
and were placed under the renamed Office of the Defender of the Inhabitants.
In addition, the Delegacion de la Mujer in the Ministerio de Gobernacion y
Policia accepts and channels women’s complaints about violence or aggres-
sion. In 1991, the Office of the Women’s Defender served twenty—five hundred
women, according to a press conference of April 13, 1992. The Delegacion de la
Mujer in early 1992 stated that it was at that time receiving an average of three
hundred to four hundred complaints each month.

AUTONOMOUS GOVERNMENT INSTITUTIONS

Nevertheless, many autonomous government institutions that are not depen-
dent on any of the governmental ministries continue to implement procedures
that discriminate against women. For example, the regulations under which
the Instituto de Desarrollo Agrario (IDA) (Agricultural Development Insti-
tute) selects beneficiaries consider women to be less qualified to receive land,
technical training, loans, and other benefits. The Instituto Nacional de Apren—

1o6 Tatiana Soto Cabrera

dizaje (INA) (National Institute for Occupational Training) will not train
women in nontraditional occupations or skills.

The Broader Public Sphere

Dynamics and mechanisms in the nongovernmental, more informal public
sphere also create obstacles for women and diminish women’s rights. These
obstacles take the form of sexual harassment and discrimination at work,
union repression, discrimination in political parties or processes, discrimina-
tion or exploitation in popular organizations, social censorship of critics of
sexual discrimination, and perpetuation of stereotypes of submissive feminine
behavior propagated by the media and by educational materials. Women’s
limited presence in leadership positions in unions, cooperatives, or political
parties is notable, and it inspired the original proposal in the Proyecto de Ley
sobre la Igualdad Real de la Mujer for a quota system for candidates for
election (CMF, 1988). (This component of the bill was later eliminated.) More-
over, it is common knowledge that many women are coerced into complying
with employers’ sexual demands in order to obtain promotions or employ-
ment or to avoid being fired. Because no sanctions exist, few women sue for
sexual harassment, and many women have been ostracized in the workplace
for defending themselves or refusing advances. Many have lost their jobs,
ostensibly through a “restructuring” of the organization. HoweVer—and this is
a hopeful sign—ever since the Clarence Thomas—Anita Hill hearings in the
United States, the number of complaints of sexual harassment in the work-
place filed by Costa Rican women with the Office of the Women’s Defender has
increased dramatically.

woMEN’s ORGANIZATIONS

Even though most women’s organizations believe that women’s power is built
on communication, on solidarity with other women, and on their collective
understanding of the mechanisms of oppression, the power of most such
organizations is limited. They are dispersed and do not communicate well,
even though they pursue identical objectives. Thus the female part of the
population is politically less strong than it could and should be.

Unequal Power Dynamics in the Private Sphere

Probably the highest level of conflict—the conflict that most hampers women
in the exercise of their rights—is also the least documented and most complex.
Its domain is the home. Most women carry out the greatest part of their

The Law and Women’s Lives 107

activities in the private sphere and consider it the most important dimension
of their lives. Yet there they learn conformism; there they have to face the most
direct aggression; and there they must begin the struggle for their human
dignity.  

Many women who live with a husband or compafiero (common-law hus-
band) face grave problems. It is still common in Costa Rica for men to be
interested not in sharing life with their partners but only in receiving benefits.
Housework remains the exclusive obligation of many women, who are threat-
ened by physical violence, sexual or psychological aggression, affective indif-
ference or devaluation, and economic exploitation. According to a recent
study, one of every two women who turn for services to the National Agency
for Child Protection (PANI) has suffered domestic violence (PANI, 1990).

In the case of divorce, negotiations, if they take place at all, commonly end
in an unequal settlement and a decline in the woman’s status. This happens
because the woman is exhausted from pressure and uneducated about how to
fight for her rights. In addition, the laws are contradictory; family law, for
example, contributes to the decline in a divorced woman’s status by permitting
her to give up her economic rights, whereas under the Labor Code her eco-
nomic rights are inalienable. In other words, labor legislation clearly defends
the economic rights of all workers, women included, whereas the Family Code
allows women to renounce their right to financial support, particularly to
child support. As men are almost without exception poorly educated about
their obligations as fathers, in the power struggle of divorce proceedings they
often make the grand concessionary gesture of relinquishing custody of their
children, leaving the mother with the right, but also with the burden, of caring
for their children, usually without any economic support that would enable
her to do so.

Women in Costa Rica go through an enormous crisis at the moment of
divorce. Viewing themselves as failures, they assume the blame for the end of
the marriage, continuing to worry about their partners who humiliated them.
They are afraid of being alone, dread the criticism of society, and find it
agonizingly difficult to make decisions, particularly about their own legal
situation. Few worry about their sexuality and their future in that respect.

Finally, the levels of violence within Costa Rican families are often compa-
rable to tortures inflicted under dictatorships. Many women have a long his-
tory of abuse that began with incest during their childhood (see Batres, chap.
19 below, and Carcedo, chap. 18 below). The dimensions of the problems of
abuse are still unquantifiable in Costa Rica. Even among intellectuals we do

108 Tatiana Soto Cabrera

not yet find an understanding that these humiliations constitute a human
rights violation and we must fight against them with the same commitment
with which we oppose political oppression and torture. This is and will con-
tinue to be a woman’s problem. So far, however, only feminist organizations
such as the Comité Nacional por la No Violencia Contra la Mujer (National
Committee for the Prevention of Violence Against Women) have taken up the
problem of the invisible domestic war against women.

Conclusion

In sum, the emerging picture of women’s rights in Costa Rica is mixed. The en-
joyment and exercise of basic rights by Costa Rican women still leaves much to
be desired. The state, law, customs, and informal system of social controls are
full of sexist obstacles to the goal of women achieving their rights. There is an
astounding incongruity between, on the one hand, the achievements of the
Costa Rican legal system and, on the other hand, the inconsistencies of its ap-
plication and the miseries of the daily realities of Costa Rica’s women citizens-
most of them poor, without power, and without state protection of their
interests.

Yet some progress has taken place. The government is making an effort to
establish institutions and processes designed to devote attention to women’s
needs and resolve their legitimate complaints. And women themselves are not
as quiet as they were ten years ago.

Biodata

Tatiana Soto Cabrera, a Costa Rican, received a licenciatura in law from the Universidad
de Costa Rica and is one of the original members of Ventana (Window) (see Camacho,
Facio, and Martin, chap. 2 above). Since 1987 she has been a legal consultant on legal and
gender questions for various feminist organizations. She is the author of Los Mem-
nismos Legales Desprotectores de la Victima de Agresién Sexual (The legal mechanisms
that fail to protect victims of sexual aggression; 1988). In 1989-91 she acted as a legal
consultant for the Casa de la Mujer de los Barrios del Sur (Women’s House in the
Southern Suburbs [of San Jose] ), whose work with battered women is supported by the
Fundacion Accion Ya (Action Now Foundation), a nonprofit organization helping low-
income women. She worked with the Programa Interdisciplinario de Estudios de Gé-
nero (PRIEG) (Interdisciplinary Gender Studies Program) at the Universidad de Costa
Rica in 1991, and in 1991-92 was a legal consultant for the Defensoria de los Derechos
Humanos de la Mujer, Ministerio de Iusticia. She is now at the Defensoria de los
Derechos Humanos de las Internas del Sistema Penitenciario Nacional (Office of the
defender of the human rights of women prisoners in the National Prison System).

The Law and Women’s Lives 109

References

Facio, Alda. 1989. “De derechos del hombre a derechos humanos.” Mujer/Fempress, no.
91 (May): 6-7.

Centro Nacional para el Desarrollo de la Mujer y la Familia (CMF). 1988. Proyecto de ley
de igualdad real de la mujer. San Jose: Ministerio de Cultura, Iuventud y Deportes.

——. 1990. Ley de promocién de la igaalclad social de la mujer. San Jose’: Ministerio de
Cultura, Iuventud y Deportes.

La Gaceta. 1989. Decreto no. 19157. No. I-166. September 1.

Molina Subiros, Giselle. 1989. “La mujer frente a la administracion de justicia.” Licen-

e ciatura thesis. Facultad de Derecho, Universidad de Costa Rica.

Patronato Nacional de la Infancia (PANI). 1990. “Caracteristicas de la mujer agredida
atendida en el PANI, propuesta de intervencion.” Computer—produced internal
document (September).

Peralta Cordero, Lydia. 1986. “Sindrome de la mujer agredida.” Licenciatura thesis,
Facultad de Derecho, Universidad de Costa Rica.

Soto Cabrera, Tatiana. 1988. Los mecanismos legales desprotectores de la victima de
agresién sexual. San Jose: Ministerio de Cultura, Iuventud y Deportes, CMF.

Acknowledgments

This article is based on the author’s participation in feminist organizations, years of
work with support groups for women who suffered violence, and her legal consulting
to help Women defend their rights. Both the author and the translator wish to thank
Alda Facio for her comments on an earlier version of the translation of this article.

110 Tatiana Soto Cabrera

12 %% Negotiating Women’s Legal Equality
Four Versions of a Law

Aixa Ansorena Montero

In March 1988, the Proyecto de Ley sobre la Igualdad Real de la Mujer (Bill for
Women’s True Equality) was introduced to the public; one month later, it was
sent to the Legislative Assembly of Costa Rica (CMF, 1988-89). Two years of
intense public debate about women’s political and social rights followed before
the bill, substantially changed, was passed as the Ley de Promocion de la
Igualdad Social de la Mujer (Law for the Promotion of Women’s Social Equal-
ity) (La Gaceta, 1990; see Badilla, chap. 13 below).  

It may come as a surprise that Costa Ricans were discussing women’s equal-
ity while the rest of Central America was torn by political and military con-
flicts. But we must consider both the bill and the debate in the context of
the stable democracy and relatively high living standard of Costa Rica. The
nation’s political stability is based on a number of reforms that have been
achieved through social legislation dating back to the 1940s, including the
nationalization of banks, universal extension of social security, incentives for
cooperative and community organizations, and general access to primary and
secondary education (Contreras and Cerdas, 1988; Rojas, 1982).

At the same time, however, the Costa Rican social system has preserved
strong and deeply rooted social inequalities between men and women, which
persist despite a tradition of struggles for women’s rights dating from the
beginning of the century.

Women’s Continuing Inequality

The Ley de Promocion de la Igualdad Social de la Mujer was a response to
women’s continuing low participation in politics, in the labor market, and in
the administration of justice. Table 12.1 illustrates the gender imbalances in the
assembly, municipal governments, community organizations, and the labor
force. It also shows the low level of women’s income compared with that of

111

Table 12.1. Indicators of Female Inequality

Area of Inequality Women Men
Political Representatives
National Assembly (1953/-86) 6% 94%
Municipalities (1953/ -86) 9 11 89
Community organizations (1986) 17 83
Labor
Economically active populationa (1987) 28 72
Administrators, managers (1985) 22 78
Income
Mean national salary 1987 (men’s salary: 100%) 82 100

a. Percentage of working-age population that Was employed, looking for work for the first time, or
unemployed. This category excludes housewives and students (PRIEG, n.d.; Garcia and Gomariz,

1989).

men. These data are easily quantifiable, but other types of inequalities cannot
be so readily measured. In judicial proceedings, for example, most cases of vio-
lence or sexual aggression against women are still considered lesser offenses,
even though the number of women treated in the Clinic of Forensic Medi-
cine from 1983 to 1987 had doubled within the five—year span (Molina, 1988).
Women also suffer discrimination in terms of access to property, particularly
in social programs for rural areas, Where land is routinely assigned to men.

The Objectives of the Bill 9

The Proyecto de Ley sobre la Igualdad Real de la Mujer voiced demands in six
areas:

1. Political rights and the exercise of public ofifice, to ensure women’s increased political
participation;

2. Social and economic rights, to establish mandatory child care, financed by employers
and users, and to ensure equal rights to property for legally married or common-
law husbands and wives;

3. Protection of women while they denounced aggression or sued to ameliorate pro-
cedures in cases of sexual abuse and aggression;

4. Education, to eliminate sexist content from teaching materials;

5. Advocacy through an Office of the Defender of Women’s Rights;

6. Reforms of existing laws.

112 Aixa Ansorena Montero

The bill did not intend, however, to modify radically the social, economic,
or political conditions that underlie women’s inequality; thus it did not in-
clude reforms in all areas in which women experience discrimination. Nor did
it pretend to resolve immediately all the forms of women’s domination that are
so deeply embedded in Costa Rican culture.

Processes in Support of Women’s Rights
in Historical Perspective

The Proyecto de Ley sobre la Igualdad Real de la Mujer is not the first case in
which Costa Rican women mobilized to pursue their social, economic, or
political rights. In the past, women acquired rights through legal processes.
These processes generally took three forms, only one of which arose exclusively
from women’s feminist consciousness and mobilization. .

In some cases, the state adopted measures that lacked a strong social mobili-
zation in their favor. This was the case when Costa Rica recognized divorce
through the Civil Code of 1888. In such instances, the state anticipated social
conflict and acted to control it. Rights acquired by this type of process did not
necessarily translate into reality. In the case of the divorce code, for example, a
long time passed before either women or men claimed their right to divorce,
primarily because of the existing religious sanction of excommunication.

In the second process by which women acquired rights, the state adopted
measures in response to pressures exercised by broad social and political
forces. Although the measures produced results that extended women’s socio-
economic rights, and women’s groups and outstanding women leaders may
have participated, the movements cannot be considered feminist either in
goals or in social composition. Historic examples of the second process are the
social reforms of the 1940s; the passage of the Social Security System, which in
principle guaranteed “equal salary for equal work, without distinction of sex”;
various public health programs that paid attention to maternity; and, in 1943,
the Labor Code (Contreras and Cerdas, 1988; Rojas, 1982).

At times, however, the state did adopt certain measures as a direct result of
pressures exerted primarily by mobilized women. Feminist movements ex-
pressed and directed these demands, even though other groups may have
participated in the struggle. One prominent example of this third type of
process was women’s mobilization in the struggle for the Vote during the first
half of the twentieth century (see Sharratt, chap. 8 above); that movement
continued until the vote was granted to women in 1949.

Negotiating Women’s Legal Equality 113

The Different Versions of the Bill

The Proyecto de Ley sobre la Igualdad Real de la Mujer was inspired by the
United Nations Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimina-
tion Against Women (Badilla, chap. 13 below). It was further aided by the
commitment during the 1985-86 electoral campaign of Oscar Arias (president
from 1986 to 1990), who promised to support women’s demands for the elimi-
nation of discrimination.

The bill went through four versions (see table 12.2). The first version was
made public by the president’s wife, Dofia Margarita Penon Géngora de Arias,
on International Women’s Day, March 8, 1988. Version 2 (April 1988) became
the first text actually sent to the assembly. Version 3 (September 1989) evolved
during the debate. The final version (February 1990) reflects the political
compromise that enabled the bill to become law. Table 12.2 outlines some of
the important changes in content that took place between the first and fourth
versions. The most controversial changes were those related to women’s polit-
ical participation, economic and social rights, and protection from sexual
abuse and aggression. The changing titles of the bill indicate the direction of
the process.

In some cases, the final version weakened earlier proposals. For example:

° Version 1 proposed a quota system for women candidates in elections to the assem-
bly and municipal governments. This provision was abolished, but the political
parties were charged with adopting measures (including the expenditure of funds)
for encouraging women’s active political participation.

° The financing of child—care centers for workers, proposed in Version 1 to be shared
by private enterprises and users and made obligatory for all enterprises, was in
Version 4 turned over to the government and no longer termed obligatory.

° Version 1 proposed measures for the protection of women engaged in judicial
processes involving sexual abuse or aggression. Version 4 left such women only the
possibility of being accompanied to forensic exams by a person of their choice and
the right to make complaints about aggression in front of a woman functionary.
Version 4 also stipulated training of judiciary personnel to sensitize them to deal
more adequately with victims of crimes of violence.

In other cases, however, the final version maintained or strengthened the
original proposals:

° Version 4 retained the original proposal making it obligatory for any property
provided through public welfare programs to be registered in the name of both
legally married spouses or, in a common-law union, solely in the woman’s name.

114 Aixa Ansorena Montero

° Version 4 upheld the elaboration presented in versions 1 and 2 to eliminate gender-
role stereotypes from teaching materials, and the obligations added in Version 2,
namely to teach shared responsibilities of the genders, to cover women’s contribu-
tion to history, and to finance occupational training for women.

° Version 4 changed the Office of the Defender of Women’s Rights proposed in
Version 1 into the Defensoria General de los Derechos Humanos, charged with
ensuring protection of human rights, especially those of women, children, and
consumers.

Other provisions strengthened the bill over the earliest version, but weakened
it in relation to intermediate versions. For example, Version 4 established re-
forms to the Labor Code restricting dismissal of pregnant or nursing women
and maintained the prohibition of contracting women for unhealthy work, but
the final provisions were weaker than those of Version 2. Diverse groups in the
country participated in the national debate over the bill, through the media,
roundtables, workshops, and lectures, all of which prompted modifications.

In the aggregate, the changes of the principal components of the bill show
regressive tendencies. Though on some aspects, such as employment and pro-
tection of workers, the newly approved law is broader than the 1988 proposal,
early demands for political participation through quotas, and for socioeco-
nomic rights such as child—care obligation were lost. In several instances,
specific measures were replaced by general statements without practical details
and obligatory compliance (CMF, 1990).

Every Little Step Counts

When the bill was moving through the assembly so slowly that passage seemed
doubtful, the executive, President Arias, established an Immediate Action Plan
for Equality, to respond by way of executive decree or interinstitutional agree-
ments to at least some of the originally formulated demands. This brought, for
instance, the creation of the Office of the Defender of Women’s Rights in the
Ministry of Justice; an agreement with the Ministry of Public Education to
reform textbook content; and agreements to make credit available to women,
train women workers, extend social security coverage, and ensure women’s
access to sports (Badilla, pers. comm., September 15, 1989). The Immediate
Action Plan created better conditions for women during the difficult debate,
though several of the measures would not survive the change of government in
the spring of 1990.

In the end, the Ley de Promocion de la Igualdad Social de la Mujer is a

Negotiating Women’s Legal Equality 115

xii

THIS COLLECTION OF READINGS represents a conscious decision to offer a
broad vision of the complex dimensions of the women’s movement and femi-
nism in Costa Rica during the early 1990s. The term women’s movement is
not identical with feminism in Costa Rica. Most contributors to The Costa
Rican Women’s Movement: A Reader would agree that, despite much overlap
between the two movements, feminism is more far-reaching in advocating
social change by empowering women than is the women’s movement, which
may strive for more limited economic, social, or political improvements.

Unlike many other readers on Latin American women which are written
about women’s movements or feminism, the selections in this reader were
written by true insiders. The authors—members of the Costa Rican Women’s
Movement or feminists—are Working toward their goals in neighborhoods,
communities, or organizations. Most are native-born; others are long-term
residents of the country. Given the problems their society faces, Costa Rican
women cannot afford the intellectual luxury of merely thinking about or
researching the women’s movement and/ or feminism; instead, they must
turn their insights or inquiries into action—the key social—science concept is
investigacién—accién—for improving women’s, and thus all Costa Ricans’, lives.
The belief that commitment to action. at the grassroots is essential shows
clearly in the authors’ biographical summaries, which can be found at the end
of each article.

Costa Rica: A Context of Contrasts and Contradictions

In Costa Rica even a mild expression of opinion, disagreement, or opposi-
tion—an ever—so~measured criticism—carries more weight than the same ex-
pression would in another culture. Costa Ricans— Ticas or Ticos in local par-
lance——are characterized by a pervasive national tendency to avoid conflict and
extremes of violent confrontation, preferring instead to get along sin hacer olas
(without making waves). Moreover, the Costa Ricans’ commitment in social
situations centers on their families and rarely extends to the community (Cer-
sosimo, 1986), as that would require disciplined cooperation of a sort that
clashes with Costa Rican individualism. This orientation may well be the result
of the centuries of marginalization of Costa Ricans in the backwaters of politi-
cal power, and of their extreme poverty during that time, which caused them
to be timid in social interaction (Rodriguez, 1979).

Costa Rica is a small society of great geographic, climatic, biological, and
social-historical contrasts. As far as women are concerned, the most pertinent

Ilse Abshagen Leitinger

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political compromise, but it is also another step in the direction of providing
equality in women’s lives. Some Costa Rican feminists are disappointed, but
others say that every little step counts.

Biodata

A Costa Rican, Aixa Ansorena Montero is an anthropologist and a consultant and
investigator in the fields of rural development, health, and family welfare for the
Ministerio de Cultura, Iuventud y Deportes (MCID), the European Economic Com-
munity, and CEFEMINA, the Feminist Center for Information and Action. Since fall of
1993, Aixa has been doing graduate work in Anthropology at the University of Indiana
in Bloomington. She obtained a M.A. degree and is approaching the Ph.D.

References

Badilla Gomez, Ana Elena, personal communication. Sept. 15, 1989.

Centro Nacional para el Desarrollo de la Mujer y la Familia (CMF). 1988-89. Proyecto
de Ley de Igualdad Real de La Mujer. Three versions. San Jose: Ministerio de
Cultura, Iuventud y Deportes.

—. 1990. Ley de Promocion de la Igualdad Social de la Mujer. San Jose’: Ministerio de
Cultura, Iuventud y Deportes.

Contreras, Gerardo, and Jose Manuel Cerdas. 1988. Los afios cuarenta. Historia de una
politica de alianzas. San Jose: Editorial Porvenir.

Garcia, Ana Isabel, and Enrique Gomariz. 1989. Mujeres centroamericcmas. Vol. 1. San
Jose: FLACSO.

La Gaceta. 1990. No. 59 (March 26).

Molina, Giselle. 1988. “La administracién de la justicia en la violencia conyugal.” Mujer,
no. 5: 13-16.

Programa Interdisciplinario de Estudios de Género (PRIEG). n.d. “Situacion de la
mujer en Costa Rica: Un perfil de su discriminacion.” Mimeo. San Jose: Universidad
de Costa Rica.

Rojas, Manuel. 1982. Lucha social y guerra civil en Costa Rica 1940-1948. San Jose:
Editorial Porvenir.

118 Aixa Ansorena Montero

13 =2% Leading Arguments
Against Women’s Legal Equality

Highlights of a National Debate
Ana Elena Badilla Gémez

The years 1988 and 1989 were an important period for feminism in Costa Rica.
During this time we witnessed a national debate following First Lady Dofia
Margarita Penon Gongora’s presentation to the public, on March 8, 1988, of
the Proyecto de Ley sobre la Igualdad Real de la Mujer (Bill for Women’s True
Equality). The two years of debate that followed in the Legislative Assembly
were comparable to the struggle before 1949, the year in which Costa Rican
women finally obtained the vote (see Sharratt, chap. 8 above).

The debate over the Proyecto de Ley sobre la Igualdad Real de la Muj er was
carried on in the assembly; in the media; within political parties, unions,
and feminist organizations; and among citizens in general. In all these places,
defenders and opponents of the bill voiced their opinions, which ranged
from total to partial support to opposition, and from superficial to profound
criticism.

Those who opposed the bill cited four principal arguments (CMF, 1988):

° The proposed gender proportionality in politics was unconstitutional.

° There was no need for the bill because there was no discrimination against women
in Costa Rica.

° The term true equality was inappropriate because the bill might indeed provide a
practical mechanism for achieving equality, which was not a politically desirable
outcome.

° The provision of shared financing of day-care centers should not be a concern of
employers.

This article analyzes these criticisms in order to identify the bill’s virtues
and defects, its social significance, and its value for the Costa Rican feminist
movement.

119

Rejection of Gender Proportionality in Politics:
The Fear of Shared Power

The first chapter of the Proyecto de Ley sobre la Igualdad.Real de la Mujer,
which dealt with women’s political rights, was without a doubt also its best-
known part. It was extensively analyzed and debated by the press and the
members of the assembly. The intent of the chapter was to promote greater
participation of women in positions of political decision making, whether as
elected officials or presidential nominees. This chapter was watered down
through a legalistic discussion that, in the last analysis, reflected the fear of the
patriarchal powerholders that they might lose their hold on the reins of the
political system and be required to relinquish to women a democratic share of
men’s decision—making powers.

La Prensa Libre (1988b), one of the major national newspapers, ran an
editorial on March 11 stating the following:

The principle of nondiscrimination which our Political Constitution embraces rests
upon the true equality of opportunity for both sexes. Thus, all can be nominated as
candidates or elected as officials, according to their true or presumed abilities, re-
gardless of gender. Only when an individual—man or woman—with qualifications
and enough support to be nominated as a candidate is denied the candidacy, and an-
other, without better qualifications or support becomes the candidate solely because
he or she belongs to the correct gender to ensure the proportionality which the law
demands—we repeat, only at that moment—would we be witnessing discrimination
on account of gender, which would go against the spirit of the Constitution.

In the same vein, the newspaper La Nacién (1988), a counterpart and com-
petitor of La Prensa Libre, argued on March 31: “We think it dangerous to
require that political parties distribute representative positions on the basis of
proportionality between men and women in the country. Individuals are not
qualified, intelligent, or service-minded only because they are either men or
women.”

We heard the suitability argument also from women who held important
public office and opposed the bill for political or ideological reasons. As Mar-
celle Taylor, member of the opposition, said (1988), “With a law proclaiming
the equality of women, we do not seem to take into account women’s training,
qualifications, loyalty, and other values but merely weigh the fact that they are
women.”

The Colegio de Abogados (National Lawyers Association), the national
professional organization to which practicing lawyers are required by law to

120 Ana Elena Badilla Gomez

belong, named a Commission for Women’s Affairs which stated, “Changes like
those suggested by the bill would violate the rights of male and female citizens
who in truth are the persons who decide candidacies with their vote” (CA,
1988).  

More interesting still is the statement of the Tribunal Supremo de Elec-
ciones, the independent body that supervises the honesty of elections in Costa
Rica. Upon inquiry by the Social Affairs Commission of the Legislative Assem-
bly, the Tribunal Supremo responded, “To acknowledge the need of reforming
Article 60 of the Electoral Code so as to eliminate discrimination—in accor-
dance with the bill under consideration—would mean accepting that clear
constitutional and legal dispositions which prohibit any kind of discrimina-
tion on account of gender have been violated” (TSE, 1988).

This was a very surprising comment for the tribunal to make. Political
discrimination against women is probably so overwhelming that the tribunal
preferred not to acknowledge reality: Costa Rican women constituted more
than 45 percent of the electorate in the 1980s, but their participation in the
assembly since 1953 has been only 6 percent (PRIEG, n.d.), and only fifteen
women were ministers or vice ministers between 1970 and 1989 (CMF, 1989). Is
that not discrimination? But that is not the only surprising aspect of the
tribunal’s comment. Even stranger is that following the Tribunal Supremo’s
statement, the press and many members of the assembly began to criticize the
bill as unconstitutional—a judgment reserved for the Supreme Court. More-
over, many critics alleged unconstitutionality without asserting the reasons in
support of theirview.

  Finally, of course, the argument was made that the bill’s promoters were
“politically frustrated women.” Sadly enough, the author of that phrase was
none other than the chairman of the assembly’s Social Affairs Commission,
which studied the bill (Carvajal, 1988).

The Refusal to Acknowledge Discrimination:
A Vote Against the Essence of the Bill

Besides their objection to proportionality, critics questioned whether the bill
was necessary. “The bill happens to be not only polemic but also unnecessary.
It will disturb and upset what has already been established in our Constitution

  and our laws,” editorialized La Reptiblica, another of San ]osé’s principal daily

newspapers, on March 14, 1988, echoing what opposition assembly member
Marcelle Taylor had written in La Nacién on March 12 (1988). The argument

Leading Arguments Against Women’s Legal Equality 121

was that the principle of equality is firmly established in the Constitution, and
the nation cannot legislate equal opportunities for women because it is impos-
sible to establish equality by force.

The commentators ignored completely the United Nations’ definition of
the concept of discrimination against women, which includes “any distinction,
exclusion or restriction made on the basis of sex which has the effect or
purpose of impairing or nullifying the recognition, enjoyment, or exercise by
women . . . of human rights and fundamental freedoms” (United Nations,
1988). Accordingly, a piece of legislation is discriminatory not only when it
expressly discriminates but also when its application may have discriminatory
effects. Further, the United Nations Convention on the Elimination of All
Forms of Discrimination Against Women obligates the signatory states to
adopt the principle of equality between women and men in their constitutions,
and its Article 4 states that the adoption by participating governments of
special measures of a temporary character, with the goal of accelerating the
actual equality between men and women, is not considered discrimination
(United Nations, 1988). A

In agreement with that principle, a mere formal constitutional declaration,
such as the one provided in Article 33 of the Costa Rican Constitution that “all
men are equal before the law,” is not sufficient. It will be necessary to establish
expressly that women and men are equal before the law. The creators of the
Proyecto de Ley sobre la Igualdad Real de la Mujer envisioned it as one of the
special measures mentioned by that very convention.

In the wake of the refusal by the press and by assembly members to ac-
knowledge the existence of discrimination against women, one of the specific
proposals that evoked most opposition to the bill was the proposal to create an
Office of the Defender of Women, the Defensoria or Procuraduria de la Mujer.
Opponents protested the creation of the office in La Prensa Libre on March 12
(1988a): “We believe that today flagrant violations of the rights of certain
groups of the citizenry may exist. But we could not identify these groups by
gender. Besides, even if we accepted that violations of the rights of women take
place simply because women are women, we doubt that the creation of a new
Procuraduria is the way to overcome those violations.”

Assembly commission members who studied the bill shared this opinion.
Not even the visit of the ombudswoman from Norway—one of the few coun-
tries in which such an institution exists-managed to convince commission
members of the importance of the office. Thus, the text approved by the
commission eliminated the proposal for an ombudswoman’s office and intro-

122 Ana Elena Badilla Gomez

duced in its place a proposal to create an office for the defender of human
rights, in which would be included a specific ombudsperson for the defense of
women, children, and consumers. At that point, the government by executive
decree created the Defensoria de la Mujer (Office of the Women’s Defender)
(La Gaceta, 1989).

Changing the Name of the Bill:
A Vote Against True Equality

During the discussion in the assembly, the element that weighed most heavily
against the bill was its very name. All opponents agreed that the bill’s title could
not be the Proyecto de Ley sobre la Igualdad Real de la Majer. For some, the
most threatening idea was that women wanted a law that not only spoke
theoretically of equality, but that would also be an instrument that would
contribute to creating equality in practice. Therefore, at the very moment that
the assembly sent the bill to commission, assembly member Mario Carvajal
suggested a name change to the Bill of Women’s Rights (1988). Later another
legislator, Jorge Rossi, proposed calling it the Proyecto de Ley de Igualdad
Esencial de la Mujer (Bill for the Basic Equality of Women) (1988). Finally,
Norma Iiménez, the only woman member of the commission, moved that the
bill be renamed the Proyecto de Ley sobre la Igualdad de Derechos entre
Hombres y Mujeres (Bill for the Equality of Rights Among Men and Women)
(1988).

Regardless of that change, defenders of the bill continued to call it the
Proyecto de Ley sobre la Igualdad Real de la Mujer, and the public continued to
identify it as such.

Day Care: The Worst Threat to Private Enterprise

Rarely in our society has an article adopted on behalf of children generated so
much opposition as that generated by the proposal for shared financing of day-
care centers.

Some groups in Costa Rican society feared that we women might forget that
our essence is to be mothers and our basic responsibility is to bear and educate
our children. Others viewed the article for the creation of day-care centers for
workers’ children under seven years of age as a statist and leftist measure. This
group seemed to have forgotten that maternity is an option, not an obligation,
and that women working outside the home do not forget their responsibilities

Leading Arguments Against Women’s Legal Equality 123

toward their children. On the contrary, women bear the brunt of an unequal
distribution of household and child—care responsibilities. Women, not men,
suffer from the effects of the double or triple day, with one workday for
housework, another for child care inside the home, and a third for outside
work.

Nonetheless, the press focused on private enterprise opposition to the cre-
ation of such centers. The proposed financing divided the cost among the
state, the users, and private entrepreneurs, who were opposed, of course,
because they did not wish to consider a reduction of the profits they obtained
at the expense of poorly paid employees.

Response to the threat of mandated sharing of the cost of day care was
immediate. Emergency meetings were held, and newspapers ran editorials
with such titles as, “New Tax on Businesses Causes Alarm” (La Repiftblica,
1989); “Urgent Meeting of Chamber of Commerce Presidents: Private Sector
on the Alert” (La Prensa Libre, 1989); “Objections to Surcharge on Business
Accounts: Chambers of Commerce Propose Changes in Bill on Women” (La
Nacién, 1989). The representatives finally gave in and determined that day care
should be financed by government appropriations and user fees.

The Objections Strengthen Women’s Desire
to Fight for True Equality

In the last analysis, all the objections against the bill grew out of a patriarchal
conception of society. In some cases, the patriarchs refused to recognize that
discrimination against women exists, and in others they admitted that wom-
en’s participation has been limited and attempts should be made to raise it.
Those who admitted that attempts should be made, however, proposed to
tailor the solution to the efforts and capacities of individual women, without
considering the social, cultural, and ideological factors that maintain discrimi-
nation and hinder the full access of all women to politics, credit, and civil
rights.

During this discussion of the bill, some profound and constructive crit-
icisms emerged. One in particular stands out: After the analysis of its technical
faults and the recognition of its importance, the bill became too modest, and
more substantial measures should have been proposed to achieve a true change
in the situation of Costa Rican women (DiMare, 1988). The bill as such failed
to address many issues that contribute to the gravest types of implicit or
explicit discrimination women experience daily. Many of the proposed mea-
sures were at most timid first attempts toward a real solution.

124 Ana Elena Badilla Gomez

Most of those who defended the bill did not deem it a legal instrument that
was going to solve all of women’s problems; rather, they saw it as a means of
beginning a discussion that previously had never taken place in Costa Rica.
There was agreement—not only within the feminist movement and the most
progressive sectors of society but also among men and women of the left and
the right, among workers and intellectuals, among housewives and profession-
als—that the approval of the bill was an unavoidable step for further social
development. The feminist movement therefore assumed a position of critical
approval for a government—sponsored bill, which went beyond the limits the
government originally envisioned. In fact, this initiative, promoted by First
Lady Dofia Margarita Penon, totally escaped the control of the president’s
office and was embraced by all those women who identified with it.

Even in the most distant rural communities, women came to know about
the Proyecto de Ley sobre la Igualdad Real de la Mujer. They analyzed it and
felt that through it they claimed their basic rights. The growth of women’s
organizations, the unification of those organizations around a common goal,
and, above all, the expression of the feminist movement as a representative
actor in society with its own voice were undoubtedly the main achievements of
this much debated bill. This process of debate. cleared a path toward true
equality for women.  

Biodata

Ana Elena Badilla Gomez, a Costa Rican, holds a licenciatura in law from the Univer-
sidad de Costa Rica. She also did graduate work at the Centro Interdisciplinario de
Estudios de la Mujer (CIEM)(Center for Interdisciplinary Women’s Studies) (UNA).
She was a legal adviser for the Centro Nacional de Desarrollo de la Mujer y la Familia
at the Ministerio de Cultura, Iuventud y Deportes (Ministry of Culture, Youth and
Sports), and for the program Mujer No Estas Sola. She was the coordinator for diffu-
sion of the law’s text and information about the Law for the Promotion of Women’s
Social Equality at the Fundacion Arias para la Paz y el Progreso Humano (Arias
Foundation for Peace and Human Progress) and currently is the director of the foun-
dation’s Centro para el Progreso Humano (Center for Human’ Progress), which focuses
exclusively on women. She coordinates the center’s programs for women with a re-
gional, that is, Central American, scope.

References

Carvajal, Mario. 1988. “Declaraciones, Sesion de la Comisién de Asuntos Sociales de la
Asamblea Legislativa.” Expecliente 10605, Toino I. September 28.

Centro Nacional para el Desarrollo de la Mujer y la Familia (CMF). 1988. Proyecto de
Ley de Igualdad Real de la Mujer. San Jose: Ministerio de Cultura, Iuventud y
Deportes.

Leading Arguments Against Women’s Legal Equality 125

characteristic of the social-historical context in Costa Rica during the early
1990s is the presence of strong contrasts, if not contradictions, which manifest
themselves in a number of ways.

First, having experienced extreme isolation and poverty for hundreds of
years and having developed a system of coping with that condition, Costa
Ricans today, for better or worse, live in an open society with multiple linksto
the rest of the world. This openness can be seen both internally, in the coun-
try’s politics, and externally, in its reactions to international influences. Yet at
the same time, Costa Rica is almost petulantly self—conscious of its unique
identity, “our idiosyncracy,” as Costa Ricans label it (Biesanz et al., 1982).

Second, under the cultural veneer of Costa Rican Spanish—Catholic homo-
geneity hides a remarkable ethnic, cultural, and even religious diversity. The
deceptively homogeneous culture of Costa Rica’s three million people has
multiple roots, and its openness and widespread international linkages are
recent, dating essentially from the current century. Although on the surface,
Costa Rican society seems mestizo, based on the original Indian—Spanish fu-
sion of peoples and cultures, a closer examination reveals admixtures from
around the globe. In addition to the particularly strong Spanish influence,
European linkages include those to England, France, Germany, Italy, and the
East European societies. Other elements in the mixture are derived from North
America (mainly the United States), the Caribbean (primarily Jamaica), and
Asia (mainly but not exclusively China). Also notable for their contributions
in many fields are Iewish immigrants of various national origins, some of
whose families have been in Costa Rica for many generations (see, e.g., Biesanz
et al., 1982; Escobar, 1992). Although Costa Rican society is predominantly
Spanish Catholic, religious diversity is growing (Biesanz, 1982: 154). With this
mosaic of people, Costa Rica is strikingly similar to other, larger Latin Ameri-
can societies (Miller, 1991: xiii).

However, Costa Rican society also boasts unique features. It abolished its
army more than fifty years ago (see, e.g., Biesanz et al., 1982). Costa Ricans are
peace loving and democratic, and they take an immense pride in the award of
the 1987 Nobel Peace Prize to Costa Rica’s then—president, Oscar Arias Sanchez.

Nevertheless, in a society that is famous for its love of peace and tranquility,
the perturbing record of violence against women is becoming painfully visible
and has given rise to an on-going public debate. And, in contradiction to their
idealistic commitment to equality, Costa Ricans face the harsh social reality
of a growing inequality—largely an economic inequality—which hits women
doubly hard. Women continue to be disadvantaged in terms of access to

The Women’s Movement and Feminism in the Early 1990s xiii

—. 1989. Situacion de la mujer costarricense. San Jose: Imprenta Nacional.

Comision de Asuntos de la Mujer, Colegio de Abogados (CA). 1988. “Documento
presentado a la Comisién de Asuntos Sociales de la Asamblea Legislativa.” Expe-
diente No. 10605, Tomo I.

DiMare, Alberto. 1988. “Igualdad real de la mujer.” La Nacién. San Jose. September 15.

Editorial, La Nacion. 1988. “Igualdad para la mujer.” San Jose. March 31.

———. 1989. “Objetan recargo en planillas. Camaras proponen reformas a proyecto
sobre la mujer.” San Jose. February 14.

Editorial, La Prensa Libre. 1988a. “Observaciones a magnifica intencion.” San Iosé.
March 12.

——. 1988b. “gQué es igualdad real?” San Jose. March 11.

——. 1989. “Reunion urgente de presidentes de camaras. Sector privado en estado de
alerta.” San Jose. February 14.

Editorial, La Reptiblica. 1988. “La igualdad real de la mujer.” San Jose. March 14.

——. 1989. “Alarma nuevo impuesto sobre las planillas.” San Jose. February 14.

Iiménez, Norma. 1988. “Mocion, Sesion de la Comisién de Asuntos Sociales de la
Asamblea Legislativa.” October 19.

La Gaceta. 1989. Decreto 19157. No. 166 (September 1).

Programa Interdisciplinario de Estudios de Género (PRIEG). n.d. “Situacién de la
mujer en Costa Rica: Un perfil de su discriminacion.” Mimeo. San Jose: Universidad
de Costa Rica.

Rossi, Jorge. 1988. “Mocion, Sesién de la Comision de Asuntos Sociales de la Asamblea
Legislativa.” December 13.

Taylor, Marcelle. 1988. “Ley de la mujer: Esa no es la ley que esperamos las mujeres.” La
Nacion. San Jose. March 12.

Tribunal Supremo de Elecciones (TSE). 1988. “Pronunciamiento presentado a la Comi-
sion de Asuntos Sociales de la Asamblea Legislativa.” Expediente No. 10605, Tomo I.

United Nations. Center for Human Rights. 1988. Human Rights—-A Compilation of
International Instruments. New York: United Nations.

Acknowledgments

I am grateful to Alda Facio for comments on an earlier draft of this paper. This analysis
represents the author’s position and does not constitute a statement by the Fundacién
Arias para la Paz y el Progreso Humano.

126 Ana Elena Badilla Gomez

14 =2% Redefining Political Equality
More Than Including Women
Alda Facio Montejo

Toward More Perfect Justice

The legal concepts or philosophical principles that form the underpinning of
laws may seem universal and eternal, but in fact they are constantly changing.
As concepts and principles are reinterpreted in the light of historic realities,
they evolve, keeping pace with humans’ search for a more perfect justice. A
case in point is the principle of legal equality, as expressed in Chapter 1 of the
first version of the Proyecto de Ley sobre la Igualdad Real de la Mujer (Bill for
Women’s True Equality) (see Ansorena, chap. 12 above), which was passed in
revised form by the Costa Rican Legislative Assembly in 1990 (CMF, 1990). The
first version of Chapter 1 never reached the assembly floor because the bill was
revised by the executive before it was submitted to the assembly’s Social Affairs
Commission for analysis.

The first version of Chapter 1 proposed that all political parties be re-
quired to present a ratio of women—to—men candidates identical to the ratio of
women—to—men registered voters in the party. For women, that number is
about 49 percent. This affirmative-action proposal raises serious questions
about three concepts related to the principle of legal equality: citizenship,
political equality of men and women, and equality before the law. Throughout
the philosophical-legal history of Costa Rica, nobody has ever dared to ques-
tion the accepted definition of these three concepts. Doing so now constitutes
a first—ever challenge to traditional thinking to which most Costa Ricans,
including women, are not yet ready to respond.

The following analysis examines how we must reconceptualize these three
components of our legal thinking, to arrive at a more just principle of equality.
However, before we can do that, we must first redefine an even more basic
concept—human being.

127

Redefining Human Being

Even though the principle of equality underlies most contemporary formula-
tions of human rights, these formulations fail to account for essential differ-
ences between human beings. They use “man” as the prototype or model of
“human being,” and thereby favor men, specifically men of a certain class, race,
and professional status. Thus, when we speak of “equality of the two genders,”
we have been conditioned to think of raising woman’s condition to that of
man, who personifies the essence of what it means to be “human.” Yet, an
assessment of the continued discrimination women suffer, as Latin American
feminists and international organizations urge, reveals a need for redefining
the term human being as the basis for the “principle of equality,” in order to
ascribe to both concepts a new content that responds to the needs and aspira-
tions of all humans.

One way to approach redefining the androcentric human being is to exam-
ine arguments against Chapter 1 of the bill. Did male lawmakers deny women
the opportunity to debate this bill because they understood the danger to
themselves——that of losing the power to define principles and values underly-
ing Costa Rican laws? Or did they prevent debate out of a reasonable concern
for its constitutionality, as many argued? Given that a legislative debate-
through which all bills must pass—can never be unconstitutional (the Consti-
tution, after all, establishes this process), the answer may well rest with the first
explanation. Thus, the refusal to discuss Chapter 1 shows that we women have
been naive in thinking men would consider our needs and would be willing to
share power if only we show we are capable or have been discriminated against.
On the contrary, the refusal proves that we cannot assume we can gain power
without having men lose a good share of it in the process.

Meanwhile, the prototypical human continues to be the male, and patri-
archal ideology has made us believe that this is natural, normal, and unchange-
able. Women are the “other,” the specifically different. Laws directed at the
male are presumed to be directed toward humanity as a whole, to be generic
and gender neutral, whereas laws directed toward women are seen to be spe-
cific to their gender only. Thus, laws intended to correct sexual discrimination
are perceived as benefiting only one gender. Although we affirm this as correct,
we do not accept the notion that other laws, legal principles, or values based on
men’s experiences are gender neutral.

Depending on how one analyzes universally accepted principles of citizen-
ship or equality before the law, one must take a stand for or against the correc-

128 Alda Facio Montejo

tive measures proposed in Chapter 1 of the Proyecto de Ley sobre la Igualdad
Real de la Mujer. That bill required, for the first time, “affirmative” action in
election policies in order to achieve the goal of incorporating the above-
mentioned three fundamental concepts of citizenship, political equality of men
and women, and equality before the law into the desired reconceptualized, more
just principle of equality.

Redefining Citizenship

The concept of citizenship shared by probably all Western countries implies
that the status of “citizen” transcends all differences in civil society. That is, one
can assume that if Costa Rica’s Political Constitution establishes that native-
born and naturalized Costa Ricans are citizens, all of us are guaranteed the
same opportunity to ascend to positions of political decision making. A corol-
lary of this assumption is that laws are neutral and can be applied to all with
the same effect. Obviously, if we use these concepts of citizenship and neu-
trality of laws, we must oppose any affirmative action because such action
would by nature be discriminatory by making distinctions between groups of
citizens. Moreover, if we believe in the neutrality of laws—i.e., that laws are
directed at all of us without distinction of gender, class, or other characteris-
tics—we must contend that legal equality has already been achieved.

If we accept that women are citizens just as men have been for years before
them——though women had no role in defining the rules about the rights and
duties of citizenship—we must logically also accept that women have not
achieved popularly elected office because we women are not qualified, not
because the existing rules make it difficult to do so. And that is just what
opponents to Chapter 1 of the bill argued: that there were not enough qualified
women to fill the quotas that the chapter required. Furthermore, the bill’s
opponents claimed that any measure to revise the rules was discriminatory
because existing rules are gender neutral.

Another argument raised in opposition to the call for corrective measures
to achieve true equality of citizenship is the myth that Costa Rican women
have lived for the last one hundred years in a democracy with free elections.
Few Costa Ricans realize that the struggle for women’s citizenship had barely
begun by the late nineteenth century, and that Women did not receive the
formal status of citizen with pseudo-equal political rights until the Constitu-
tional Assembly of June 29, 1949. Thus, women have acted under these pseudo-
equal rights only since they participated for the first time in local elections in

Redefining Political Equality 129

195o—a little more than forty years ago. How strange! Even those who are
familiar with this history do not always see a conflict with the myth of one
hundred years of free—election democracy. Obviously, if the myth is so widely
believed, Costa Ricans will not question the equality of opportunity regarding
elective office.

Moreover, women have exercised only part of the rights they gained in 1949.
They have voted in numbers fairly similar to those of men, but they have held
elective office at the national, regional, or local level in only minimal numbers.
Records for 1987 show that, although women have constituted from 45 to
nearly 50 percent of the voters since 1953, their presence in the Legislative
Assembly has never exceeded 6 percent (PRIEG, n.d., Tribunal Supremo de
Elecciones, 1985, 1989, 1991).

Redefining Political Equality of Men and Women

Conscious of this real, though not formal, discrimination, the women who
proposed Chapter 1 of the Proyecto de Ley sobre la Igualdad Real de la Mujer
suggested an affirmative—action measure to establish proportionality of the
sexes by requiring political parties to include among the candidates for local,
provincial, and national assemblies a number of women proportional to the
number of women party members. Yet most Costa Ricans believed the mea-
sure would establish a quota of nearly 50 percent for women candidates and
would unconstitutionally discriminate against men. The proposed chapter did
not even guarantee that women would actually arrive at the legislature, as their
candidacy would not ensure their election.

Unfortunately, proponents of Chapter 1 did not think to defend their argu-
ment by pointing out that human rights concepts develop continually as dif-
ferent generations, cultures, classes, ethnic groups, and genders constantly
redefine abstract, universally acknowledged principles according to new needs.
The incorporation of economic and social rights into what we today consider
human rights is one such example. The workers’ movement achieved eco-
nomic and social rights at the end of the nineteenth century. If the workers’
movement was able to reconceptualize bourgeois rights and freedoms from
the workers’ perspective, can not the women’s movement also reconceptualize
the right to political equality—which we have never enjoyed fully—according
to women’s needs?

The Costa Rican Political Constitution of 1949 establishes in Article 33 that
“All men are equal before the law and discrimination against human dignity

130 Alda Facio Montejo

cannot be permitted.” This article prohibits discrimination only against hu-
man dignity. No article explicitly prohibits measures to undo discrimination—
whether by quotas, affirmative action, or any other corrective measure—unless
we interpret an action to eliminate centuries of discrimination to be an act
against human dignity, or unless, of course, human dignity is understood to be
the dignity of men, and only men of a certain race and class.

Those who interpret Article 33 as prohibiting affirmative action harbor a
concept of equality that grew out of the French Revolution, a bourgeois con-
cept that we have to transcend because it fails to account for true differences
between genders, races, ethnic groups, classes, etc. Those who criticize affirma-
tive action firmly believe that if action were taken to eliminate discrimination
against women in political elections it would establish another type of discrim-
ination. They fail to acknowledge that current discrimination against women
violates the Constitution, which prohibits discrimination against human dig-
nity. Since women have never been the model of the human being who has the
right to vote and be elected (a right established by men for men), women have
never had the same opportunity to be elected, even after formally obtaining
that right. Moreover, since we have neither participated in developing rules for
political electoral activities nor enjoyed total citizenship, we also have not been
able to reform concepts developed without us.

Redefining “Equality Before the Law”

Men, who have seen themselves as representing the human species, have tradi-
tionally considered themselves qualified to decide everyone’s fate without any
input from women. The French revolutionaries who proclaimed their well-
known “Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity,” for example, did not permit women
to enter the General Assembly. French women did not achieve the political
rights for which so many of their sisters died until more than a century after
the revolution, yet nobody considered this a violation of the principle of
equality. Similarly, in Costa Rica, Article 33 was part of constitutions long
before and after women obtained the right to the vote. Earlier, women were
“equal before the law” but could neither vote nor be elected; today we women
are “equal before the law” and can vote, but for all practical purposes we still
cannot be elected.

In Costa Rica, most people believe that for women equality before the law is
limited to receiving the rights and duties elaborated and promulgated by men.
Consequently, legal equality between men and women is believed to be guar-

Redefining Political Equality 131

anteed by proclaiming it, instead of by ensuring it through measures that truly
permit the participation of women in defining national priorities. We women
have not yet understood that despite having achieved the nominal right to be
elected to positions of political decision making, we have not become true
citizens actively executing the political rights and duties granted to those eigh-
teen years and older by Article 90 of the Constitution. Even after the revoca-
tion of the constitutional articles establishing that only males are citizens,
Costa Rican culture continues to support the belief that men can represent
women’s interests in the public sphere, just as husbands cou1d——and in some
parts of our country still can—legally represent wives’ interests in the private
sphere.

During the pseudo-debate over Chapter 1 of the Proyecto de Ley sobre la
Igualdad Real de la Mujer, opponents insisted that it did not matter whether
political functionaries were men or women because the offices represented
humankind, not one gender or the other. Interestingly enough, those same
individuals also opposed affirmative action to bring women into decision-
making positions. They argued that if such measures brought a majority of
women to decision—making positions, men would be the subjects of discrimi-
nation. This is a double standard: On the one hand, it is not discriminatory
against women if 94 percent of the representatives are men, because being male
or female does not matter in political activities. On the other hand, it would be
discriminatory against men if more than 51 percent of government representa-
tives were women. Just as grammar establishes that the masculine form can
include females but the feminine form represents only the “not masculine,” in
the androcentric mentality of politics, men may represent the human species,
but women may represent only women.

Thus, a law that benefits only men (even if not targeted explicitly at the male
population) is not understood as discriminatory against females, whereas a
measure that eliminates unfair male privilege in political elections, though it
does not benefit only women, is seen as discriminatory against males. We must
clarify: No law ever targets specifically the male part of the population, as this
part is commonly called “the people.” The irony of androcentrism in political
participation is that it produces an effect directly opposite from the effect it
strives to establish. Historically, men have represented only the interests of
men, but most women in power positions have also represented only the
interests of men, as only men’s interests were considered representative of all
the people. But even if it were certain that women, once in power, would

132 Alda Facio Montejo

represent only the interests of women (thus a majority of Women in political
decision—making positions would discriminate against men), why would it be
discriminatory, if proportionality had been established between women voters
and the number of women candidates for such political decision-making posi-
tions? It would still remain the case that not all women candidates would be
elected.

Returning to the argument of the unconstitutionality of quotas, which may
have influenced the decision of the executive branch to withdraw the bill in its
first version, one must remember that every society has written and unwritten
laws. An unwritten law in Costa Rica places the upper limit for women’s
participation in the Legislative Assembly at 6 percent. That means that women
have a quota for political power of 6 percent. Hence, the proposal in Chapter 1
was not to introduce quotas but to make existing quotas more equitable by
elevating women’s share of power from 6 percent to 50 percent. Those of us
who want to create quotas of 50 percent have another concept of what con-
stitutes human beings and give a different content to the principle of equality.
We believe that we women are equally or more qualified to make decisions in
the name of the human community. Thus the problem is not one of establish-
ing quotas but of raising the low quotas to reasonable ones.

Those who opposed proportionality also argued that it would permit an
individual to get to the Legislative Assembly solely on the basis of the biological
fact of being a woman, without regard to qualifications for wielding power.
But this argument, too, must be disqualified. Who can guarantee that men,
with their unwritten quota of 94 percent, were not elected merely because of
their biology rather than their qualifications for governing? The lamentable
state of the Costa Rican Legislative Assembly certainly makes this idea a pos-
sibility, if not a logical conclusion.

Given that it is nearly impossible for Costa Rican women to be elected to
positions of political responsibility, extending to women the right to be elected
is not enough. The procedures that rule the electoral process must also be
changed. It is not enough to establish formal legal equality between beings who
live in conditions of inequality. Legal equality between men and women will
never be achieved merely by declaring some point in time when they will be
equal before the law. We must also ask to precisely what condition of men do
we wish to raise women? Trying to establish legal equality by legislating that
women will be treated as if they were men would only legalize and institu-
tionalize existing inequalities.

Redefining Political Equality 133

Allowing Women and Men to Be “Equally Different”

We must base a reconceptualized principle of true equality on the understand-
ing that men are as different from women as women from men—i.e., that we
are equally different. Laws—especially laws that govern access to positions of
political decision making—must acknowledge this difference. Acknowledging
differences is not the same as discriminating or creating new inequalities;
rather, it uses as the baseline for redefinition the reality of women’s present
inequality, which has been amply demonstrated.

Those who favor the notion of being “equally different” understand that to
achieve the principle of equality, we must eliminate inequality and hierarchi-
calization of men and women, not eliminate the differences between us. One
of the arguments against the Proyecto de Ley sobre la Igualdad Real de la Muj er
was that it wanted to deny the natural differences between the genders and
impose by force a horrible “unisex” world of uniformity. Those who think that
the only way to eradicate inequalities is by eliminating differences between
human beings merely show an entirely androcentric vision of the world; they
are still relying on the paradigm of the representative human being as a West-
ern, white, heterosexual male with no visible disabilities. They cannot imagine
that a world without inequalities could instead be populated by beings of dif-
ferent races, beliefs, ethnic groups, genders, sexual preferences, who have dif-
ferent qualifications and limitations. For those unimaginative people, equality
means agreement with their stereotype of human being, and anyone who
moves away from that stereotype necessarily moves away from the concept of
human being.

Unfortunately, those of us who favor an equality based on being equally
different lack power to redefine the principle of true equality and give it
content. The only way to obtain power in this system appears to be through
instituting measures that directly benefit women, and to obtain such measures
more women with gender conscience must occupy political decision—making
positions. Yet, women who rise to such positions often have no gender con-
science and hotly defend androcentric equality.

It is also true that the women who proposed Chapter 1 of the bill did
not achieve the conceptual clarity that would have allowed them to defend
their position. Instead of acknowledging that by giving more opportunities to
women the proposal was taking privileges away from men, they argued that
Chapter 1 did not propose affirmative action, that these measures were tempo-
rary, and so on. We women have generally made the mistake of avoiding

134 Alda Facio Montejo

confrontation with those in power, believing we can achieve more equality if
we do not imply that men will lose their gender privileges. Thus, to those in
power our discourse sounded either insincere or, minimally, confused.

If women had had weightier arguments, Chapter 1 of the Proyecto de Ley
sobre la Igualdad Real de la Mujer would have been, if not approved, at least
discussed in the Legislative Assembly. We must learn from our failures, and we
must think more profoundly about achieving equality. We must propose solu-
tions to women’s inequality which do entail loss of privileges by men, without
deeming this loss unconstitutional. We must understand, as men understand,
that achieving a more egalitarian society cannot mean that everybody gains. If
they really want a more just society, the privileged, dominant ones must be
willing to give up privileges. If they are unwilling to lose privileges, we must
unmask them for what they are and not permit them to overwhelm us with
talk about democracy for all humanity. We must accustom ourselves to seeing
the loss of male privilege not as discrimination against men but as a necessary
step toward equality. Their advantaged condition is based on gender privileges
and not on superior qualifications or a natural division of power.

Chapter 1 of the Proyecto de Ley de la Igualdad Real de la Mujer, which was
intended to provide more opportunities for women to participate in the elec-
toral process, will not be part of the laws in this republic in the near future. But
that must not discourage us. The knowledge that those in power did not want
to discuss true political equality will point us in new directions, in order to
change the world so that it adjusts itself to our measure also.

We live in a patriarchal world, and women by definition have no power to
legislate our equality. But we can develop solid arguments and organize our-
selves effectively. We can put pressure on men and women who say they favor
equality, so that they will eliminate the discrimination from which women
suffer. One important step we can take is raising consciousness about the
extent of androcentrism, which until now has imbued our principle of equal-
ity. Being conscious of our exclusion, we women are not going to accept an
equality that leaves men at the center of political power. Women will have to
gain more political power to push for laws—rights for all human beings——not
only for those of white, Christian, middle—class, heterosexual, Western males
with no visible disabilities.

Biodata

Alda Facio Montejo is also one of the authors of “The Group Ventana,” earlier in this
Reader. Her biodata are given there (see chap. 2 above).

Redefining Political Equality 135

resources, jobs, and power, and they suffer the all—too-well—known feminiza—
tion of poverty. As a result, Costa Rican women’s self—help actions can be
considered highly political, even though they do not always fit the traditional
concept of politics involving government institutions or political parties. The
demanding challenge that women learn to take a position and act decisively
stands in opposition to the traditional tendency for them to be accommodat-
ing in relations with other people—“without making waves.” On the other
hand, not making waves offers one great asset on which women can build: the
Costa Ricans’ patience and willingness to negotiate.

Costa Rican women and their attitudes toward being women and toward
the women’s movement or feminism are as diverse as the country; they range
from consciously conservative to forcefully liberal. Their action on local prob-
lems, if not shaped by survival needs, is influenced by feminist thinking arising
from local experience or from the observations of Costa Rican students re-
turning from many different places—the Southern Cone of the Western Hemi-
sphere, North America, and Europe, including the former USSR. Women’s
action on local problems is also fostered by many international development
agencies or foreign advisers, arid by the funding of such institutions.

No wonder then, that Costa Rican feminists today are at the vanguard of
feminism in Latin America and even worldwide, provided we assess this femi-
nism according to the principle of investigaci(’)n—accion as action—oriented, not
as emphasizing abstract theorizing. Costa Rican feminists do theorize, of
course, but they do so in order to understand and to propose solutions to real-
life problems, as part of their effort to give women better access to equal
opportunity in all realms. 9

Several diverse examples justify this characterization of Costa Rican femi-
nism as vanguard feminism:

1. Seeking equality of opportunity, Costa Rican women aspire to high government
and other public posts: At the time of this writing in early 1993, women hold two
ministry posts (Justice and Culture); one presidential hopeful (or precandidate) in
1993 was a woman; and, even though there are only four state universities, one
university president is a woman. Women also function as legislators, judges, ambas-
sadors, and other high-level professionals.

2. The 1980s have seen an escalation in the number of women’s organizations, be they
dedicated to income generation, the defense of women’s rights, the fight for equal-
ity, or women’s well-being. One prominent example is the Fundacion Ser y Crecer
(FUNCRESER), which since 1990 has been working with incest victims (Leitinger,

1993).

xiv Ilse Abshagen Leitinger

References

Centro Nacional para el Desarrollo de la Mujer y la Familia (CMF). 1989. Situacién de
la mujer costarricense. San Ioséz Imprenta Nacional.

——. 1990. Ley de Promocién de la Igualdad Social de la Mujer. San Iosé: Imprenta
Nacional.

Constitucién Politica de la Repdblica de Costa Rica. 1949. San Iosé: Imprenta Nacional.

Tribunal Supremo de Elecciones. 1985, 1989, 1991. Estadisticas del Sufragio. San Ioséz
Imprenta Nacional.

136 Alda Facio Montejo

IV % WOMEN SUFFERING DISCRIMINATION

Newspaper headlines demonstrate different problems that cause discrimination
against women (from back to front): two women every Week infected with
AIDS; Ticas earn less than men; ten women per day abused; 100 Women [so far
this year] lose their jobs because of pregnancy; 42.7% single mothers in 1994

PART III PRESENTED the legal, political, and philosophical arguments for
equality. We turn now to a series of readings that offer an insight into ordinary
everyday instances of inequality and varied experiences of discrimination in
Costa Rican society. By showing how women cope, the selections prove the
strength of the individual-—efficacy root of feminism. The presentations are or-
dered according to types of discrimination: by race or class, sexual preference,
physical disability, and domestic violence, including incest. This approximates
the sequence in which different types of discrimination have risen successively
into public consciousness, first through self-help efforts at the grassroots level,
thereafter through scientific investigation of the phenomenon, then through
discussion in the political and legislative arena, and finally through a society-
wide debate in groups, organizations, and the media.

Women Heads of Household in Costa Rica’s Limon Province: The Effects
of Class Modified by Race and Gender, by Eugenia Lopez-Casas

Eugenia Lopez-Casas presents the situation of low-income women in Limon as
an example of socially based discrimination against poverty intensified by race
and gender. Lopez-Casas’s article deals largely with aspects of the women’s
movement; in women’s fight for survival, they continue to accept the patri-
archal society but begin to assess critically the social structure of which they are
a part.

After a brief overview of the background and characteristics of Limon
Province on Costa Rica’s Caribbean coast, the author demonstrates, through
the women’s own words, how class, race, and gender affect poor female
heads of household in the local setting. Of the total population of the re-
gion, these women are most threatened by poverty; nevertheless, they de-
velop effective survival strategies that in turn bring them self—confidence and
empowerment.

The Lesbian Feminist Group Las Entendidas, by Paquita Cruz

Paquita Cruz traces the growing sense of identity among lesbian feminists,
who firmly refuse to continue to be labeled a socially deviant group. She
describes their increasing readiness to identify themselves openly with their
sister lesbians and discusses their explicit desire to take the initiative in cooper-
ating with heterosexual feminists in areas of mutual needs and interests.

The analysis provides a short history of the lesbian feminist group Las
Entendidas (Those in the Know), founded in 1987. The group has given Costa
Rican lesbians a nucleus around which they can develop their sense of identity,

138 Women Suflering Discrimination

self—esteem, and solidarity. Various lesbian groups meet with Las Entendidas,
which coordinates local activities including lectures, recitals, theatrical presen-
tations, and international events such as the April 1990 Segundo Encuentro de
Lesbianas Feministas de América Latina y el Caribe. Las Entendidas has helped
make it possible for lesbians to join with heterosexual feminists in the struggle
against patriarchy. Participants at the Encuentro Centroamericano Feminista
in Nicaragua in March 1992, for example, decided that topics related to lesbi-

  anism were to be a regular feature at all future meetings.

Women with Disabilities: Between Sexism and Handicappism,
by Paula Antezana Rimassa

Costa Rican society, Paula Antezana argues, cannot provide accurate statistical
information on people with disabilities. Such individuals face rejection, re-
pulsion, pity, and aggression. This situation is a double burden for women
with disabilities, who experience a twofold discrimination through sexism
(which puts gender before the human qualities of the individual) and hand-
icappism (which focuses on the disability before acknowledging the individ-
ual’s humanity). The author offers six hypotheses about the effect of handicap-
pism and sexism on women with disabilities and asserts that these hypotheses
should be investigated and tested in Costa Rica.

Never to Cry Alone Again: Women and Violence in Costa Rica,
by Ana Carcedo

Discrimination through violence is the focus of Ana Carcedo’s study. It is the
first of two articles on violence against women in the family, and it deals with
women battered by rape and aggression. Carcedo traces the history of attempts
by the organization Mujer No Estas Sola to deal with the problem. Many Costa
Rican institutions and organizations cooperate with the group, among them
the Centro Feminista de Informacion y Accion. The center and its partners
rejected the model of battered women’s shelters, popular in other parts of the
world, on the rationale that they require unavailable resources and yield rela-
tively limited results.

To counteract the traditional pattern of women’s dependency, they devel-
oped a program of support groups that allow women to share their experi-
ences and to develop self—confidence and decision—making capacity. In many
communities, they sponsor workshops for the prevention of violence through
women’s empowerment, education in alternative forms of communication,
and the discrediting of violence.

Women Suflering Discrimination

139

Father-Daughter Incest: Case Studies in Costa Rica,
by Gioconda Batres Méndez

In Costa Rica, the emergence of yet another topic—incest—from taboo and
silence encouraged research, discussions among concerned social scientists
and feminists, and reports and editorials in local newspapers. Gioconda Batres
offers a small sample of her path—breaking research on father-daughter incest
and self-help groups for the young victims and their mothers. She reports
on the work of the new Fundacion Ser y Crecer, which is institutionalizing
the treatment of Victims of incest, the training of professionals, and further
research.

Drawing on years of research with incest victims and their families and of
therapy with sex—abuse victims, the author analyzes the dynamics of incestu-
ous families. She summarizes more than one hundred sessions with adolescent
victims of father-daughter incest and their parents. She delineates the con-
struction of masculinity, the experiences of the victims and their mothers, the
psychological effects, the social reality, and the therapeutic recommendations
for the treatment of problems resulting from father-daughter incest. Research
and therapy, including self-help group therapy, are continuing.

140 Women Suflering Discrimination

15 %% Women Heads of Household
in Costa Rica’s Limon Province

The Effects of Class Modified by Race and Gender

Eugenia Lopez-Casas

Costa Rica is famous for variations in relief, climate, flora, and fauna, and it
shows a physical diversity that belies its size. This diversity translates into a
variety of socioeconomic conditions, despite the unifying experience of Span-
ish colonization, nineteenth—century independence, and twentieth-century
development of dependent capitalism.

At present, Costa Rica is experiencing an economic crisis resulting from
several factors; these include, but are not limited to, the external debt, the
decline of coffee prices (coffee being one of Costa Rica’s two principal export
crops, the other being bananas, though both have recently ceded first place in
export earnings to tourism), and the constant political upheavals in countries
of the Central American region. Only 40 percent of Costa Rican wage earners
earn the cost of the Canasta basica (market basket), the minimum food re-
quired for subsistence for a four—person family (Méndez M., 1989). This gen-
eral impoverishment particularly affects the female population, and above all
women who are heads of households.

Female heads of household have been the focus of extensive analysis during
the last few decades. Cross—cultural studies indicate that throughout the world,
the economic position of women is low where the proportion of female-
headed households is high (Seager and Olson, 1986). Analysts have attributed
this finding variously to historical, cultural, social, or economic causes; re-
cently they have also considered the effects of the international division of
labor and the global political economy on changing family forms. But global
factors do not act alone; they play themselves out in local settings. This study
examines the phenomenon in Limon Province, a marginal region in many
ways, to demonstrate the interaction of local time- and case—specific factors of
class, modified by race and gender, among poor, single, black women who are
heads of household.

141

The Afro—Caribbean Background on Costa Rica’s
Atlantic Coast

Limon Province has always been the least populated of Costa Rica’s seven
provinces. Located on the Atlantic coast in the Caribbean lowlands, formerly
covered with humid tropical forest, the region today is full of banana and
cacao plantations. Some forests remain in the region away from the coast, but
much terrain has been cleared for ranching. The area was settled in the 1800s
by Jamaicans and other English—speaking Protestants. Thousands of Afro-
Caribbeans came as contract labor to build a railroad that would open the
Atlantic port of Limén for coffee export. At the same time, banana producers
also employed many Afro-Caribbeans to develop large plantations. In the
19305, the banana companies relocated to the Pacific coast because of crop
diseases, but the Costa Rican government prohibited Afro-Caribbeans from
migrating there or to other areas——probably because Costa Ricans, proud of
their European ancestry and despite substantial Indian admixture, considered
themselves as whites who compared favorably to their darker—skinned neigh-
bors in Central America and hoped to stay that way (Seligson, 1980).

The limitation on their free movement caused considerable economic hard-
ships for the Afro-Caribbeans of Limén Province. Moreover, the province was
ignored politically and marginalized economically. Though President Iosé
(“Pepe”) Figueres after the 1948 Civil War eliminated these discriminatory
measures and continued the crucial social welfare reforms of his predecessors,
no important changes were evident until the early 1970s. Those changes in-
cluded the construction of roads, expansion of commerce, improvements in
health and education services, promotion of tourism and cattle raising, and
reappearance of banana plantations. Accompanying those advances, however,
was deforestation, resulting from logging and environmentally unsustainable
agricultural practices. During this time, there was also a rapid influx of non-
Afro—Caribbean migrants from other areas of Costa Rica and Central America,
which altered the social structure of many communities. Throughout, Afro-
Caribbeans have been least favored economically, and Afro—Caribbean women,
especially single heads of household, were among the most seriously affected.

Female Heads of Household in Limon Province

In Limon Province, female heads of household experience a harsh daily reality
affected by all the distant causes analysts suggested, but also reflecting local

142 Eugenia Lopez-Casas

patterns of interaction based on class, race, and gender. One can best assess
these factors by looking first at class and then examining the effects of race and
gender in conjunction with class, as the women talk about their lives in poor
peasant and urban families (Lopez—Casas, 1990).

Early socialization into patterns of women’s work and subordination are
characteristic of many female heads of household, who had to give up school-
ing to go to work and supplement the family income. Nancy, thirty years old,
describes her experience: “I attended primary school for four years. I wanted
to go on and study nursing in a hospital. I like it! But my mother said, ‘You
cannot study, you have to help me, I got a lot of children.’ So I had to stop going
to school to help her iron other people’s clothes. I would take the bundle of
clothes, and I would iron, and iron, and iron, and often I could not manage the
irons; they were made of cast iron and very heavy. Sometimes I could not grip
the iron, it would turn over my hand and burn my arm. Then my mother
would grab me by the hair, shake me, and say, ‘You have to learn to be a
woman.’ ”

To be a woman means housework. Olga, a black woman of thirty years,
comments on women’s primary task: “Well—trained good women [able to per-
form domestic labor properly], even if they have the disgrace of not marrying
or of being abandoned, they can fit in any home. It is not the same for men
’cause they can’t do these things. This is why women are wished for in other
people’s houses. Women are fitted for housework, because women are for
households. It’s a woman’s destiny.”

But Costa Ricans value education. The women always refer to it, even
though they have to give it up, generation after generation. Hear forty—eight—
year—old Samantha talk: “I wanted my children to study, not to be like I was,
but I had to take them out of school, because what I earned was not enough to
keep us alive, let alone buy books and school uniforms. I needed one to take
care of the little ones, and the other to go into the street and sell fruit while I
went to work.”

Nidia, who is thirty—five, provides another example: “My children had to
leave school to help me, you know; I can’t afford their education. I wanted
them to learn skills, become mechanics or electricians. Roberto is very clever,
he works selling newspapers. He is very good at business. If I give him one
hundred colones, he turns them into three hundred.”

By the time children reach eight or ten years of age, they become an income-
producing resource for the women, who develop small family enterprises in
which all help. Earlier, though, when the children are small, the women have to

Women Heads of Household in Limén Province 143

rely on the help of the extended family, particularly their mothers and grand-
mothers, who take care of the children while the woman goes out to work.

Race plays a peculiar role in child care in Limén. The custom is to leave
children with the maternal grandmother, but many black women from Limon,
even grandmothers, go to New York to work as cooks. So mothers leave their
children with maternal grandfathers, and the old men bring up the children.
Prohibited from moving to the Central Valley, black people moved abroad-
many to the United States——and this became the prevalent pattern.

Gender is another factor that creates difficulties through discrimination in
earnings. Whether they do permanent, part—time, or piece work, women earn
less than men! Costa Rican labor laws have outlawed this type of discrimina-
tion since the 195os, but employers have found ways of circumventing the law.
Moreover, women are at a disadvantage since they cannot work overtime
because they must care for children. Also, they are often illegally deprived of
their true wages by unfair accounting and underhanded swindles.

Margarita, thirty-eight years old and a rural worker, tells this story: “I have
worked in the countryside, alongside men, producing more than they did. But
I always had a woman’s luck, and they paid me a peseta [1/ 4 colon] less per
hour. On payday, my check was the smallest, and ifI complained they would
not hire me again.”

Marielena, a twenty—five-year—old worker reports: “They hire me every
three months, and then they make me resign. They send us to work in a
different section every three months, and in that way they do not have to pay
us prestaciones [severance pay] .”

In View of such effects of class, race, and gender, Limon Province women
who are heads of household have created defense mechanisms through inge-
nious survival strategies:’ (1) households in which mother and children work
together for income; (2) hidden prostitution, by which women do sexual
favors to get work, obtain rent, etc.; (3) family networks among mothers and
daughters to trade goods and services; and (4) neighborhood solidarity when
women heads of household organize small enterprises that provide them with
a system of exchange of goods and services, including child care.

Survival Strategies Foster Self-Reliance

The factors of class, race, and gender interact to make Limon women who are
single heads of household highly vulnerable to poverty. Yet, being alone, hav-
ing a space of their own, allows them to make decisions, control their own
money, and become aware of their capabilities and rights.

144 Eugenia Lopez-Casas

Bethany, an urban black woman of twenty—five years tells us: “A compan-
ion? It would have to be somebody with whom one could share all—he would
have to be understanding, share housework, income, the responsibilities with
the children. If not, I prefer to be alone and be responsible for my children.
Thank God, I have taken care to make myself a future for my children. I
studied—true, not the career I would like [she is a secretary], but it was the one
within reach. I have worked hard to improve my income and to help my
children advance, without needing the help of their father.”

Bethany participates in a church group and a community organization for
housing. This has given her self—esteem and a certain influence, and she enjoys
the respect of the community. Many women heads of household who belong
to women’s organizations are also achieving the community status Bethany
gained. Those are the women who are organizing themselves, who have sup-
ported, for instance, the movement for the Proyecto de Ley sobre la Igualdad
Real de la Mujer (Bill for Women’s True Equality) that was recently passed in
Costa Rica (see Ansorena, chap. 12 above, and Badilla, chap. 13 above). These
Costa Rican women, capable of making decisions, aware of their rights, have
become awakened before many of their sisters on the continent.

Biodata

Eugenia Lopez-Casas is a Costa Rican born in México City. She has a Ph.D. in anthro-
pology from the University of Durham in England and is a professor of social anthro-
pology at the Universidad de Costa Rica. She has had a long—term interest in women,
and in 1974 she was the first to do research on women heads of household, a subject on
which she has written widely under the name of Eugenia Lopez de Pisa. She is one of
the founders of the Programa Interdisciplinario de Estudio de Género (PRIEG) (Inter-
disciplinary Gender Studies Program) at the Universidad de Costa Rica (UCR) and was
involved with the recently established M.A. program in Women’s Studies. She also
served as director of Género y Envejecimiento (Gender and Aging), a university pro-
gram in which students can fulfill their social—service requirement for graduation by
working in eight senior citizens’ day centers. Employing a gender focus, the centers
offer recreational and educational activities, thereby increasing solidarity and mutual
support among the senior citizens. At the moment she is teaching Gender and Geron-
tology in UCR’s interdisciplinary M.A. program in Gerontology.

References

Lopez—Casas, Eugenia. 1990. Analysis of Life Stories of Fifty Women Heads of House-
hold on the Atlantic Coast of Costa Rica. Research in progress.

Méndez Mata, Rodolfo. 1989. “Verdad y realidad en Costa Rica.” La Naczon. September
8, p. 18A.

Seager, Joni, and Ann Olson. 1986. Women in the World. London: Pan Books.

Women Heads of Household in Limon Province 145

3. Stipulating that women’s rights include freedom from violence, more women file
complaints about sexual harassment and rape than ever before.

4. In their search for control over all aspects of their lives, Costa Rican women have
achieved recognition of new sensitive topics as the subjects of research and of bills
introduced in the Costa Rican legislature as a prelude to a national debate on such
issues. Foremost among these topics is abortion (Ansorena, 1993).

5. Seeking contacts with women worldwide, Programa Interdisciplinario de Estudios
de Género (PRIEG) at the Universidad de Costa Rica hosted more than two thou-
sand women academics from around the world from February 22 to 26, 1993 for the
Fifth International Interdisciplinary Congress on Women. According to partici-
pants, this was one of the best—organized, most thought—provoking women’s con-
gresses ever held.

All these examples document a truly action-oriented display of commitment
to women’s issues in a feminist way that challenges social power structures.

The Organization of The Costa Rican Women’s Movement

The contributions to the reader cover a range of contrasting theoretical posi-
tions, from moderately liberal to radical, representing the diverse viewpoints
that characterize Costa Rican women’s perception of their realities in the early
1990s. Assessing this complexity thematically, building on and at the same time
expanding Jane Iaquette’s model of the roots of Latin American women’s
movements (Iaquette, 1989: 4), we can see that the contributions grow from
four different roots: the political roots of human rights or political movements,
the philosophical—theoretical roots of intellectual feminism, the grassroots of
organizations of poor, mainly urban, women struggling to solve problems of
daily survival, and—adding a historical perspective to ]aquette’s model—-the
individual-eflicacy roots of women with a strong sense of individualism and
self-worth, who with fighting spirit act as individuals with no expectation of
support from a like-minded community or group. Thus, we arrive at four
different types of active women’s movement or feminism in Costa Rica today.

Of course, only if women develop a conscious gender perspective, through
which they recognize the bias they face in patriarchal structures and claim
their right to independent participation in public life, assert their capacity for
decision making about their own lives, and, above all, seek their empowerment
to change social structures that oppress them, will they be feminists according
to the definition employed in this reader.

Interestingly enough, despite the Costa Rican focus in this collection, the

The Women’s Movement and Feminism in the Early 1990s xv

Seligson, Mitchell A. 1980. Peasants of Costa Rica and the Development of Agrarian
Capitalism. Madison, Wis.: University of Wisconsin Press.

Acknowledgments

This study draws on research in progress. It presents the analysis of fifty life stories of
Limén Coast women heads of household. The author thanks these Limén women,
who bravely face their problems and have taught her how they are turning their
disadvantages into assets.

146 Eugenia L0’pez- Casas

16 %% The Lesbian Feminist Group
Las Entendidas

Paquita Cruz

Lesbian feminists founded Las Entendidas (Those in the Know) in early 1987 as
a base from which we could struggle against our particular oppression. Al-
though some of us had participated in other feminist organizations, we had
never been able to entirely identify with them because they never discussed
topics that concern us, such as the problems of lesbian mothers; homophobic
attitudes, both among heterosexual feminists and ourselves; job discrimina-
tion; or the images patriarchal society projects of lesbians. Even when We
participated in support groups alongside heterosexual feminists, our sexuality
and our daily life with our partners were always pushed aside.

Yet, belonging to those groups raised in us a feminist consciousness and
showed us how our daily independence from men makes us a threat to the
domination patriarchy exercises over women. Our life—style demonstrates that
it is possible for women to be self-sufficient, and it proves that women are not
dependent beings. But our most dangerous characteristic, the one for which We
are punished the most, is that we do not obey the mandate of obligatory hetero-
sexuality, that we tell all women that life offers other options——not necessarily
lesbian options, but nonetheless options for fulfillment and independence. To
militate against the danger lesbians present to the stability of patriarchy, its
institutions keep us invisible, dispersed, guilt—ridden, and homophobic. We
realized that if we were to become free and independent, we would have to find
our own identity through a feminist interpretation of patriarchal reality.

We decided therefore to form our own support groups, in which our politi-
cal and erotic relations with other women could be openly expressed and even
encouraged. We looked for other lesbians who had not joined feminist groups,
and we began to meet. Initially uncertain of how to proceed, We found that our
need to talk, to offer each other affection and solidarity, supported us and gave
us strength to act. We gathered to read together, to speak of our intimacies, to
express doubts and fear, and to laugh together. About ten to fifteen women

147

were in the original group of Las Entendidas. In our early meetings in the
home of one of our members, we met many restless lesbians who brought us
new ideas. The group began to stabilize.

We soon found that the first battle we had to wage was within our own
group, and we fought this battle on three fronts: against our weak self—esteem,
which we had acquired from a society that rejected us; against our own homo-
phobia, which we had absorbed throughout a lifetime of disrespect; and
against our passivity, which caused us to tolerate the discrimination we suffer
in all areas.

Having clarified and worked out these issues among ourselves, we decided
to extend the scope of our activities to the larger lesbian community. We
began by going to the bar La Avispa (The Wasp), which at that time was the
only public place in San Jose where we could get together and be ourselves.
The women bar owners and many women customers supported us. They
understood.

In La Avispa we soon organized evenings “for women only,” to build up
our self—esteem. These events now take place on the last Wednesday of every
month, and in recent times several of the meetings were sponsored by the
owner of La Avispa. On some evenings we offer lectures on various topics
related to women and lesbians. On others we stage recitals of poetry, classical
or popular music, or lesbian theater. Still others feature events focusing on
dance, painting, or narrative literature. During our evenings together we have
learned that the more united we are, the better we can fight against the ruling
homophobia that supports patriarchy.

In 1989 we began to publish a quarterly bulletin, Las Entendidas; in it we
comment on feminist activities inside or outside Costa Rica, reproduce lesbian
and feminist texts, and provide a forum for lesbians to express themselves. As
of late 1993, fifteen issues of Las Entendidas have appeared.

We also started a reading group, open to any woman who wants to attend.
We read and discuss literature on the oppression of all women, and we ponder
the importance of heterosexuality for patriarchy and the ways in which pa-
triarchy also oppresses heterosexual women. As we read lesbian literature,
essays of lesbian feminists, and articles about the experience of other lesbians,
we let go of our own homophobia and build our self—esteem. Politicizing
ourselves, we gain strength to defend our life—style against a society that re-
presses us and forces us to live our lesbianism in hiding, feeling guilty.

In addition to these activities, which reached hundreds of Costa Rican
lesbians, Las Entendidas organized the Segundo Encuentro de Lesbianas Femi-

148 Paquita Cruz

nistas de América Latina y el Caribe (Second Encounter of Feminist Lesbians
of Latin America and the Caribbean) in mid—April 1990 in San Jose. (The First
Encounter took place in Mexico.) About two hundred lesbians of the region
participated in the Second Encounter, which featured workshops on such
topics as sexuality, alternative law, violence, feminism and lesbianism, aes-
thetics, the political implications of coming out of the closet, lesbian mothers,
and myths about lesbianism. New topics also appeared during the meeting.
Recreational activities included antipatriarchal beauty contests, feminist talent
shows, concerts of music by women composers, and games to heighten our
solidarity and strengthen our lesbian identity.

This Second Encounter brought an important amplification and consolida-
tion of the international network with other lesbian consciousness-raising
groups throughout the continent. The open discussion of so many different
topics with women of so many countries over the span of a few days gave us new
points of view and contributed to developing fully our lesbian consciousness.

The Lesbian Community Before Las Entendidas

The importance of the bar La Avispa as a meeting place for lesbians through-
out the years before the foundation of Las Entendidas cannot be stressed
enough. Among gay bars, La Avispa was one that was predominantly feminine.
We went there in groups when we wanted to be lesbians in public, our only
goal that of enjoying ourselves, dancing, and having a few drinks. It was one of
the few places in which we occasionally met with women from different socio-
economic backgrounds. Yet, those of us who somehow had in part managed to
overcome our homophobia considered the bar a sordid, dark, maybe even
dangerous place. Its decoration was dismal. It was, and still is, frequented by
the police. When the police were coming, a white light advised us to stop
dancing in pairs, and we all returned to our seats. The bar was also frequently
visited by heterosexual men, who came to satisfy their sick interest in a con-
duct they consider sinful. We accepted both kinds of visits without comment.

Except for gatherings at La Avispa, lesbian women had no community. We
formed small groups, banding together according to similar cultural, eco-
nomic, and social conditions, often meeting at private parties. The various
groups coexisted, but not without a certain rivalry: there were Las Deportistas
(The Athletes), Las Intelectuales (The Intellectuals), and Las Plasticas (The
Plastic Ones) who were less political and more consumer-oriented, both in
appearance and possessions, than were the other groups. Las Tractoras (The

The Lesbian Feminist Group Las Entendidas 149

Braves) were the more daring “butch” lesbians who displayed their lesbianism
in dress and behavior. In contrast, Las Enclosetadas (The Hidden Ones) re-
mained “in the closet,” formed very closed groups, and never attended gay
parties. Only rarely did we meet lesbians from outside these groups, and when
we did, we felt no sense of solidarity. We were nearly invisible, comfortably
hidden in our small friendship groups, some more closed than others. Most of

us carried on a double life in our work and with our families, and we paid a .

high emotional price in a situation from which we saw no escape.

Our lack of lesbian-feminist consciousness made us accept the social dis-
crimination and police repression in the bars as a matter of course. It exhausted
us, but because of our self—rejection, which we had learned in a discriminatory,
gynophobic as well as homophobic society, we suffered the situation without
rebellion.

Changes for Costa Rican Lesbians

We cannot yet speak about a complete revolution in the society around us. We
could not in the short span of less than a generation change the profoundly
antifemale attitudes of men and, unfortunately, also of many women. We have
not yet concluded the stage of consciousness raising within our own lesbian
community, and we are still far from celebrating the day on which we can
move openly through society without any fear, claiming our rights equally
with other citizens of Costa Rica.

But we do see changes and hope. Aware of the need for a solidarity that we
must offer to all women in this gynophobic society, we have tried to establish a
closer relationship with heterofeminists. This has not been an easy relation-
ship, and the movement has always been initiated by us. They did not search us
out or invite us to participate in their parties or events. Even today, most Costa
Rican heterofeminists are still at a stage long since abandoned by feminists in
other societies—the stage in which they try to convince men that all feminists
are not “like those women who are not feminine.” Thus many heterofeminists
have fallen into the patriarchal trap of refusing to join with us for fear of being
labeled lesbians. Because of that fear we probably have gained only a limited
rapport, and that with only a few of the women outside our lesbian commu-
nity. The great majority of the heterofeminists still only tolerate us, provided
we are silent and almost invisible. The more heterosexual we appear, the more
they accept us. In their fear and internalized heterosexuality, some have ac-
knowledged their worry that we might move into a large number of places in
their sessions, meetings, and other activities.

150 Paquita Cruz

\/Vhen we have asked for the support of other feminists, only a small minor-
ity have responded, which has tended to make us feel that our lesbian-feminist
group is isolated within the larger Costa Rican feminist movement. Still, we do
note slight changes, and our international success is beginning to have reper-
cussions at home. A few heterofeminists feel they can learn from and with us,
and some even acknowledge that heterosexism may affect them more than it
affects us.

Despite the lesbophobic attitudes and behaviors of the heterofeminists, we
continue to believe that the first step outside of our lesbian community must
be toward them, because both groups fight against patriarchy. And, though
we understand that their homophobia stems from the same source as ours,
namely patriarchy, we expect more from them than from other women, be-
cause only together can we build an egalitarian society without discrimination
against any human group.

In fact, after we had organized the Second Encounter and weathered the
repression unleashed by press, church, and government, many heterofeminists
did recognize the magnitude of the discrimination directed against us. Today,
the topic of lesbianism and the participation of our group in the activities of
the feminist movement are increasingly accepted. In March 1992, Costa Ricans
brought to the Meeting of Central American Feminists in Nicaragua six ses-
sions on lesbianism, among others on topics such as internalized lesbophobia,
lesbian sexuality, and relations between lesbian and heterosexual feminists.

Thus, being organized has not only helped the members of Las Entendidas
grow but has also brought wider acceptance of our activities in Costa Rica. We
have received support from lesbians of many different ages and socioeconomic
levels; the face of the lesbian community has changed considerably over the
last few years.

For the moment, we are happy to have begun to move, to recognize that we
have changed internally. We now have an important center in the remodeled
La Avispa, with more light, more windows, better music, and more lesbians
who want to exercise their right to occupy a dignified place in the world. When
police officers enter, we no longer run to our seats feigning “not me.” We now
dare to continue dancing and to ignore them. They will continue to exercise
their small power, but we will see to it that this power diminishes.

The members of Las Entendidas and the lesbians who join in our activities
enjoy extensive support, through which we provide for many of our social
needs. Our dear friend continues to offer her home for celebrations of Christ-
mas, the New Year, birthdays, and anniversaries. Such dates are no longer
associated with the pain of pretending to be who we are not or of being

The Lesbian Feminist Group Las Entendidas 151

separated from our partners and far from our true lesbian family. And at every
celebration, we see new faces joining us.

Other friends have offered new spaces for meetings and encounters. We
celebrate magically feminine ceremonies to chase away the bad spirits of pa-
triarchy or to summon the forces of peace and beauty to sweeten our lives. This
new freedom we are enjoying leads us to discover time and again new and
more creative forms of being together, which we want to share with other
women. We sense that with this type of energy we can win out over patriarchy.
Most important, this form of resistance is certainly more fun.

We have recently achieved greater solidarity among the different groups
that coexist within the lesbian community. We are many now, sharing vari-
ous spaces and many concerns, joining women of all ages and from all possi-
ble backgrounds. We marvel every day about what and how much we have
achieved. We have been able to affirm our existence in a moving and energizing
way. The struggle has brought us joy and has made us feel stronger and more
able to face what is to come. Our road will not be easy, but it will not be as hard
as the one we have already traveled. Now that we have taken our first steps we
will continue to move, sometimes slowly, at other times more quickly—but
always now with greater assurance because of our newly achieved identity.

Biodata

Paquita Cruz, a Costa Rican, studied museography in Mexico, photography in Italy,
and art at the School of Fine Arts at the Universidad de Costa Rica. While living in Italy
and France, she also traveled to the Middle East. For a time she had her own art
restoration studio in San Jose. Recently she has returned to painting and is doing
videos on women.

152 Paquita Cruz

17 %% Women with Disabilities
Between Sexism and Handicappism

Paula Antezana Rimassa

We live in a society with room for only one kind of human being. All aspects of
life are shaped to satisfy the needs of people who are male, forty—five years of
age or younger, white, and middle class; who have no apparent physical limita-
tions; and who are characterized by the aggressiveness and motivation re-
quired to maintain the status quo. People outside of these parameters face
rejection, discrimination, repulsion, pity, and aggression. Their very existence
is an offense, a threat against society. Individuals with disabilities are an exam-
ple of such outsiders.

In antiquity, children born with physical or mental limitations were often
eliminated by means of socially accepted practices that ranged from cold-
blooded assassination to abandonment. Over time, this practice changed, and
people began to believe that these children deserved pity and that benevolent
institutions should take care of them.

Both conceptions influence the actual image of persons with disabilities:
They are either rejected or pitied. Society has converted disability into a stigma
that affects men and women and inhibits their full development as total hu-
man beings.

Some Thoughts on Terminology

Language, an important manifestation of culture, can be oppressive. To free
ourselves, we must search for new terms to replace sexist and discriminating
ones. We must equally avoid using euphemisms. Individuals with disabilities
have been labeled by such degrading terms as handicapped, crippled, disabled,
or invalid. However, to see the individual as a total person, we must stop
focusing first on her or his physical or mental capacities. Thus, I use the term
individuals with disabilities, which carries a clear social and political connota-
tion, instead of disabled individuals, which immediately identifies individuals

153

by their physical or mental capacities. “Women with disabilities” are first and
above all women, though circumscribed by disabilities that socially condition
their lives. Therefore, the expression women with disabilities constitutes more
than just a technical term.

Studies in countries other than Costa Rica clearly conceptualize the situa-
tion of women with disabilities (Fine and Asch, 1984; Hannaford, 1985; Saxton
and Howe, 1987). Such research has identified a close relationship between
sexism and what has been called handicappism. Both sexism and handicap-
pism constitute truly oppressive ideologies. Just as we differentiate between sex
and gender, we can speak of disability as merely a physical or mental condition
and of handicappism as its social expression. The inability to gain access to
education, health care, political and community participation, employment,
or an independent, dignified life does not stem from a physical disability in
itself. Rather, this restricted access has its origins in a society whose structures
not only ignore but specifically marginalize individuals with disabilities. That
is, society expressly nourishes handicappism. In Costa Rica we do not yet have
any studies or debates on this relationship.

Disability and Gender

For an individual with a disability, considerations of gender, race, ethnicity,
sexual preference, or social class seem to become irrelevant. It is as if the
disability in itself eclipsed other human dimensions. Nevertheless, and here
arises one of many contradictions, even though the importance of gender
seems to disappear in the face of disability, men and women do not receive
equal treatment. In fact, gender can alleviate or exacerbate the impact of
disability.

Yet, disability does not affect men and women in the same way. If discrimi-
nation and undervaluation of women is something we learn in early child-
hood, how does this affect women with disabilities? To say that women with
disabilities are doubly discriminated against is more than mere rhetoric.

Men and women are socialized differently. A disability weighs more heavily
on women in a society in which physical attributes largely determine whether
they will be accepted. The fact that an organ or sense does not function fully
mutilates women internally, so they consider themselves incomplete. The ab-
sence of that function of their body becomes an absence of their sense of
self-worth.

The media sell an image of women that is a stereotypical ideal of beauty that

154 Paula Antezana Rimassa

few women attain. At some point all women have suffered the frustration of
not being like media images. From girlhood, women have learned to feel un-
comfortable with their bodies. Yet, an important difference defines the group
of women with disabilities: For them those frustrations are not temporary.

Moreover, women with disabilities are also excluded from the traditional
roles of women, though certainly not by their own choice. Maternity, for
example, is inconceivable for many women with disabilities. Similarly, inter-
personal relations, and particularly couple relationships, are especially diffi-
cult, if not impossible. Society has likened disability to asexuality, particularly
regarding women. Studies show clearly that sexual experiences of women with
disabilities are extraordinarily limited and that few of them will marry (Fine
and Asch, 1984; Hannaford, 1985). Most men are repelled by the idea of becom-
ing romantically involved with a woman who, in their minds, is not healthy or
whose dependence, a trait basically accepted as feminine, would be so accentu-
ated that the man would become a caretaker, which typically is a feminine role.
In the few isolated cases in which the woman does enter into a couple relation-
ship, the man is often considered either a saint or a loser.

Women with Disabilities in Costa Rica

Costa Rica does not provide statistics about the exact number of people with
disabilities, nor does it provide statistics about their living conditions. The
Consejo Nacional de Rehabilitacion (National Council for Rehabilitation)
publishes a Registro Nacional de Minusvdlidos (National Register of the Handi-
capped) (meaning invalidsl), which reports a total of forty-five thousand indi-
viduals with disabilities (1989). Nevertheless, the same institution acknowl-
edges that those data do not reflect the true magnitude of the population with
disabilities. It prefers to use the projections of the Organizacion Mundial de la
Salud (World Health Organization), whose data indicate that at least 10 per-
cent of the population worldwide have some disability. According to such esti-
mates, three hundred thousand individuals with disabilities live in Costa Rica.
Consequently, it is difficult to estimate the number of Costa Rican women
with disabilities. According to the Registro Nacional de Minusvcilidos, 42 per-
cent of the reported people with disabilities are female. However, if we con-
sider that Costa Rica, like all of Central America, experiences the feminization
of poverty and that disability is intimately related to poverty (UNICEF, 1981),
through lack of access to early or continued treatment, for instance, we can
hypothesize that many more women than men must be affected by disability.

Women with Disabilities 155

xvi

basic issues that emerge from the contributions are relevant not only in Costa
Rica but in all Latin American societies. They are reflected in the seven sections
of the Reader:

I. The Varying Faces of the Women’s Movement and Feminism

“Feminism means neither unanimity of approaches nor of discourses,” said
Carmen Naranjo, one of Costa Rica’s leading women writers (1989). Such
multiplicity, which at times has resulted in profound disagreements, becomes
evident in the five contributions in the opening section. They introduce the
reader to specific evidence on the basis of various theoretical positions, liberal
to radical, and spring from the four roots of the women’s movement. In so
doing, they confirm the validity of the proposed conceptual framework for
assessing the diversity of Costa Rican women’s positions.

II. Making Women Visible in Costa Rican History

This section offers an introduction to what is yet to be discovered about
women’s past contributions to Costa Rican society. The authors almost unan-
imously agree that research on making Costa Rican women visible throughout
history is only now beginning. The reason for this gap is that in many in-
stances, documentation of women’s contributions had not been identified; in
others, however, existing documents have not been analyzed with an appropri-
ately revised gendered conceptualization of history (Clotilde Obregon, pers.
comm., April 27, 1992).

III. The Quest for Women’s Equality

This section focuses on women’s legal status, the principle of equality accord-
ing to the law. All the contributors acknowledge that, despite egalitarian laws,
true equality between the genders is not yet a social reality. This entire section
relates primarily to human rights, or the political roots of the women’s move-
ment and feminism.

IV. Women Suffering Discrimination

Turning from legal equality, expressing theoretical-philosophical theory, the
discussion swings to manifestations of inequality in social reality. The section
examines different aspects of discrimination on the basis of race, class, sex-
ual preference, and physical handicaps, and also considers violence against
women in the family, including incest. In essence, these contributions relate

Ilse Abshagen Leitinger

Not only do statistical summaries ignore women with disabilities in Costa
Rica, most people who consider themselves dedicated to the struggle for the
rights of individuals with disabilities or for the rights of women have not even
imagined the specific situation of women with disabilities. Those who did so
contemplated the situation in theory only. It is no accident that the topic of
disability compounded by gender has only recently been acknowledged in
Costa Rica; many people customarily avoid facing the reality of the daily life of
a woman with disabilities, preferring to view that reality through the opaque
lens of such euphemisms as physically challenged or difierently ahled. As a
result, the problems women with disabilities face have not been recognized by
those engaged in recent social struggles. In the remainder of this essay, I
propose some hypotheses that should be tested by future research.

Some Hypotheses in Need of Testing

Although general projections about the living conditions of individuals with
disabilities exist for Costa Rica, they are not disaggregated by sex. Nevertheless,
I have combined data from other countries with personal experiences and
observations to propose hypotheses about living conditions of women with
disabilities in Costa Rica.

Hypothesis 1: Few Costa Rican women with disabilities have joined the work
force in the last decade. Despite the fact that many women have entered the work
force during the past decade, women with disabilities have not participated in
that process. In general, women with disabilities of working age are unem-
ployed or underemployed, living on meager government pensions or surviving
with the help of their families. Yet, even in cases of severe disabilities, those
women who live with their families frequently do housework. This does not
happen to men with disabilities; if they stay home, they usually do not do any
housework. Women with disabilities who must seek work outside the home in
order to survive face extremely discriminatory treatment at the worksite.

Hypothesis 2: Women with disabilities do not participate to any great extent in
formal or informal education. In Costa Rica, women participate widely in
formal and informal education, yet women with disabilities do not. Further-
more, most efforts to increase their participation have not met with success.
For example, in 1989 the Instituto Nacional de Aprendizaje (INA) (National
Institute for Occupational Training), which regularly serves people without
any apparent disabilities, wanted to begin a training project for women with
disabilities from poor urban areas. The well-intentioned project never became
a reality for lack of institutional political will. However, the planners had

156 Paula Antezana Rimassa

already carried out two sessions with a group of women with disabilities to
ascertain the kind of training they desired. (This was an unusual step, for many
professionals believe they fiilly understand what the needs of women with
disabilities are.) The women in the group responded almost unanimously that
they wanted, as one phrased it, “a training program that will teach me to be
somebody.” Another stated, “I want to learn an occupation, finish school, and
be somebody.” These responses eloquently demonstrate the women’s thirst for
opportunities. Even those who never learned to read and write knew that only
with occupational preparation would they be somebody, with all that this term
implies.

When they were asked why they believed such a project for women with
disabilities was necessary, one of them replied, “if women without our limita-
tions find it difficult to obtain the opportunity of training for occupational
skills, how much more will women with disabilities? Rarely if everare we given
a chance to show our talents, however humble they may be.”

In response to the question of how such a goal could be accomplished, two
replied, “We must speak about each of our plans and dreams that are within
the realm of possibility,” and “I want to know more about how discrimination
against women with disabilities affects their families.” Such replies reveal the
need for women to escape from the four walls in which they are often im-
prisoned and their need to express their dreams, frustrations, suppressed tears,
and legitimate anger. Though these needs may seem unrelated to training, they
actually are closely related. A training program must take into account the
individual as a whole person.

Hypothesis 3: The health—care experiences of women with disabilities are gen-
erally related to care by specialists for the individaal’s specific disability. In the
field of health care, our experiences with the medical profession and with
health services have been strictly limited to specialists for each woman’s func-
tional limits. Often we are reduced to inert bodies that are subjected to obser-
vation and medical experimentation.

We are systematically exposed to medical oppression. The doctors—almost
always men—believe they know what we need. Those of us who have experi-
enced (and I believe almost all of us have) being in a hospital under medical
observation understand what it means to see the most intimate space of our
privacy invaded. Our “cases” are described in copious reports, which are writ-
ten about us but to which we never have access. We are rarely informed about
the different treatments specialists prescribe. Everybody pretends to know our
bodies better than we do, and we are reduced to mere physiological entities.

Women with Disabilities 157

U.S. activist Marsha Saxton refers to medical oppression as a type of oppres-
sion with its own characteristics, according to which we must deliver ourselves
to the medical system and deny our own much more exact and realistic knowl-
edge of our own bodies and experiences (Barrett, 1990).

Hypothesis 4: Most women with disabilities are poor. To affirm that the ma-
jority of the women with disabilities are poor is no exaggeration. Disability is
strongly associated with poverty.

Hypothesis 5: Women with disabilities are not taken into account. In Costa
Rica, women’s needs are not taken into consideration in rehabilitation policies,
be they concerned with prevention, rehabilitation, or occupational health.
Sexism, exacerbated by handicappism, characterizes those who formulate pol-
icies, and who, of course, do not have any visible disabilities themselves.

Hypothesis 6: Freedom of movement is prohibited by architectural barriers.
Architectural barriers in the capital as well as elsewhere have turned Costa Rica
into a country that is practically inaccessible to individuals with disabilities.
They are entirely robbed of the option of moving independently.

Conclusion

At a time when topics relating to women evoke special interest, the situation of
women with disabilities fills the void left by the progress of feminism. The
topic of women with disabilities should be analyzed and discussed by society in
general and by women with disabilities in particular. We women with dis-
abilities must cast off our invisible status and know and respect ourselves and
our own value so that we can participate fully in society.

Biodata

Paula Antezana Rimassa was born in Cochabamba, Bolivia, but now lives in Costa Rica
and is a Costa Rican citizen. She had polio at age one, and she uses a wheelchair. She
completed graduate studies in law at the Universidad de Costa Rica and worked as legal
consultant in the Arias government (1986-90). Thereafter, she served as program
officer for the Fundacion Arias para la Paz y el Progreso Humano (Arias Foundation
for Peace and Human Progress); in 1992 she took on the function of director of the
foundation’s Centro de Filantropia (Center for Philanthropy).

References

Barrett, Carolann. 1990. “A Network for Disabled Women, an Interview with Marsha
Saxton.” Woman of Power, no. 18.

158 Paula Antezana Rimassa

Consejo Nacional de Rehabilitacién. 1989. Registro nacional de minusvcilidos. San Jose,
Costa Rica.

Fine, Michelle, and Adrianne Asch. 1984. Women with Disabilities. Philadelphia: Tem-
ple University Press.

Hannaford, Susan. 1985. Living Outside Inside. Berkeley, Calif.: Canterbury Press.

Saxton, Marsha, and Florence Howe. 1987. With Wings. New York: Feminist Press at the
City University of New York.

UNICEF. 1981. “Pobre entre los pobres.” Internal document. Mimeo.

Acknowledgments

In Costa Rica, we as yet have no studies about the relationship between handicappism
and sexism. This is a first exploratory analysis of the topic; it constitutes a statement by
the author only. It is not a statement of the Fundacién Arias para la Paz y el Progreso
Humano.

Women with Disabilities 159

18  Never to Cry Alone Again
Women and Violence in Costa Rica

Ana Carcedo

This does not pretend to be a history, even less the history, of the movement
against aggression toward women in Costa Rica. It simply revives memories of
a process I lived, alone and together with other women and men, as a member
of various organizations concerned about the violence against women.

1982: Beginning of a Collective Concern

In the early 1980s graffiti crying “Death to the Rapists” appeared on walls in
San Jose. They looked alike, which seemed to indicate the campaign of an
organized group, though one indignant individual could have been behind it.
This was probably the first time anybody publicly registered the need for
collective action to stop the violence against women in Costa Rica and to put
an end to the impunity with which perpetrators could act. The slogans did
not provoke uprisings, and no one ever claimed authorship of the campaign.
But the cry against rape fed the concern about aggression of individuals and
groups.

Centro Feminista de Informacién y Accién (CEFEMINA) (Feminist Center
for Information and Action) as well as Ventana, the two feminist organizations
of the time, stated that laws and legal procedures were entirely inadequate (see
Carcedo, Sagot, and Trejos, chap. 3 above, and Camacho, Facio, and Martin,
chap. 2 above). Often in trials about rape the victim ended up the accused, as
the first issue of the review Mujer (Women) (1983a), published by CEFEMINA,
documented. In its second issue, Mujer (1983b) denounced the increase of rape
and the existence of gangs of rapists. CEFEMINA began a campaign, with
complaints and action, to bring about changes in legislation, government
protection, and women’s self-organization for defense in neighborhoods and
communities.

Although rape was a taboo topic, in April 1983 CEFEMINA organized a

160

roundtable on the problem, thereby provoking a heated debate. The attempt
to organize community groups against rape, though, was a failure. Nobody
wanted to participate. Women said the mere fact of belonging to such a group
made them suspect of having been raped.

Yet the concern grew, and with it grew the effort to make people aware and
to promote changes in legislation, institutions, and public opinion. Mean-
while, attention was focusing increasingly on rape within marriage and on
sexual aggression within the family. Feminist and professional organizations
began to show concern for women battered by their spouses. In 1982, a first
meeting, the Seminar on Battered Women, took place, with seventy-five per-
sons attending. Most participants at that meeting heard for the first time about
analyses and responses from the movement against violence in the United
States and Europe. Some participants decided to go on meeting to discuss
proposals to deal with the problem.  

The Debate About the Shelter

The Seminar on Battered Women began the debate about the best way of
dealing with domestic violence against women in Costa Rica. Shelters, the
general response of the movement in the United States and England, became
the central issue. The rationale for a shelter is simple. The battered woman
must leave home to be safe, particularly in an emergency. She must be able to
count on—at least for a certain span of time—sufficient space in which to think
about and organize her future without worry, tension, fear, or the risk of
further aggression. A shelter can offer a safe haven for her and her children,
time to look for work and housing, and time to file a complaint. 9

Most Costa Rican women who had decided to develop an action plan
viewed a shelter as an unsatisfactory answer if it was meant only to house and
protect the women and their children. In a proposal to the Primer Congreso
Universitario de la Mujer (CUM) (First University Congress on Women) in
May 1984, these women tried to enlarge the scope of the topic, proposing a
women’s center for attention to or sheltering battered women, and for involv-
ing the community in the prevention of violence (Facio F., 1985). Members of
CEFEMINA discussed and finally threw out this alternative. Some profes-
sionals shared this position, totally or in part. Unfortunately, no written rec-
ords of the discussion remain.

CEFEMINA rejected the idea of the shelter as an alternative for action for
four reasons. First, entering a shelter does not allow women to break the

Women and Violence

161

pattern of dependence with which they were raised and which was reenforced
through their relationship with the aggressor. On the contrary, the support of
.the shelter strengthens this pattern. No doubt, the woman’s living conditions
and daily activities change, but the change is not a result of her own decision.
Other people become responsible for her.

Second, in Costa Rica the combined effort of the feminists at that time was
small, and the resources they could muster would have served only a small
number of mistreated women. The physical, emotional, and material cost of
maintaining a shelter is enormous. Even though CEFEMINA had no alterna-
tive to offer, it decided to search for something that promised a greater yield
for its efforts. CEFEMINA’s members wanted to reach more women—the
entire society—and besides, they wanted an answer that included prevention.
Without prevention, one would never get to the roots of the problem.

The third reason CEFEMINA hesitated to adopt the model of a shelter
relates to women’s subjective expectations. A shelter offers tremendous op-
tions for providing material and legal services to women. New ideas about
legislation emerge. Personnel learn to raise and administer resources. But
CEFEMINA reasoned that what was most needed was an understanding of the
women’s personal needs. A shelter offers battered women many possibilities
for leaving the battering relationship behind, but is that what the women
wanted? VVhen we listened, we found their emotional world was a crucial
factor.

Finally, CEFEMINA rejected the notion of charity for the victim inherent
in the shelter alternative. Charity would institutionalize and marginalize the
women as well as the problem, instead of helping women to create their own
survival strategies and making society responsible for offering them com-
prehensive options.

The debate about the shelter did not, incidentally, remain at a level of
words. In 1984, professionals of the Asociacion Centro de Orientacion Integral
(Center for Comprehensive Counseling) obtained foreign financing to open a
shelter, the Albergue Belén (Shelter Bethlehem), in San Jose. They took in
battered women and their children and provided legal aid, dealing with an
average of six new cases daily. The status of the Albergue was precarious, and in
the end, the program closed in April 1985. Unfortunately, the insights and
lessons of its staff did not ever become widely known.

This experience strengthened CEFEMINA’s stand against aligning itself
with the idea of shelters. Above all, the Albergue experience confirmed the
gigantic organizational effort required for maintaining a shelter and the

162 Ana Carcedo

limited return from the energy and resources expended. During 1984, two
CEFEMINA members had been able to observe firsthand twenty U.S. shelters,
which made CEFEMINA even less supportive of the shelter alternative. We
found some very perturbing results. Many women left the shelters and re-
newed their relationships with their aggressors. Moreover, the time in the
shelter ended before many women had found work or a source of income. Did
they end up in the street?

CEFEMINA decided not to mortgage its future and refused to participate in
any project that involved shelters. Among professional women concerned with
the problem, and even among some women affected by the problem, the pop-
ularity of the shelter alternative began to dwindle. Nevertheless, many others
continued to propose shelters as the primary response to aggression within the
family (Ugalde, 1989). Of course, if nobody could offer an alternative that in
practice would be more viable, the debate would remain highly unbalanced.

The Search for Other Alternatives

After 1985, a cloak of silence fell over the topic of aggression within the family.
The proposal presented to the 1984 University Congress of Women did not
obtain financing, and the group that had developed it dispersed. Yet the con-
cern over the problem remained, and each member carried that concern to her
respective organization and daily work. Nationally, the problem had not been
brought to public attention nor had it provoked institutional or governmental
preoccupation. It remained hidden, nonexistent in the eyes of society and its
institutions. Foreign organizations also seemed uninterested in financing proj-
ects related to aggression against women in Costa Rica. People working either
alone or collectively on this problem did so exclusively with their own re-
sources.

But if this was a relatively quiet time nationally, it was not characterized by
passive acceptance. In those years, violence against women became a popular
topic for research and theses for lawyers, psychologists, social workers, and
others (e.g., Armas, Caravaca, and Conejo, 1986; Esquivel, Gonzalez, and
Zufiiga, 1988; Molina, 1989; Peralta, 1986; Soto, 1988), and for graduate courses
taught at Costa Rican universities (see Ferro, chap. 28 below; Guzman, chap. 29
below; Iiménez, H., chap. 30 below).

Moreover, through daily work with women in communities and centers of
social services, we at CEFEMINA learned at the micro level about the prob-
lem’s material and subjective dimensions. Some of our current reasoning dates

Women and Violence

163

back to that time. One of the most important issues relates to women’s struggle
to obtain title to their houses. These women represent about 80 percent of all
those who supported self—construction housing projects and had built their
own houses (see Sagot, chap. 22 below). From discussions about this right to
property, which the state had been reluctant to accord to women, came com-
ments such as “Now [that I own the house] he cannot mistreat me any longer
and throw me out of the house. Now, he has to leave if he touches me.” In-
deed, why should society permit the aggressor, in addition to mistreating the
woman, to stay in the home and send the woman and her children into the
street? Such thoughts had been used as a reason to justify the shelter alterna-
tive. Consequently, CEFEMINA began to take as its baseline for all planning
and action that if anybody had to leave the house, it would be the aggressor.

In addition, much that sounded persuasive in theory did not fit what we
observed in daily life. As a rule, women did not want to give up their relation-
ships with their aggressors, nor did they want to take legal action against them.
True, they were seeking the intervention of someone with authority, but they
wanted that individual to demonstrate to the aggressor that he was behaving
incorrectly, so that he would change and the man and woman could develop a
good relationship. Illusions? Maybe, but this reality, rather than some other
ideal that we might wish to see as the attitude of the battered woman, had to be
our point of departure.

Moments of Pain and Reflection

Part of the focus CEFEMINA has given its work on violence against women is
closely linked to several particularly painful events that took place in 1986 and
1987. On April 6, 1986, seven women were brutally assassinated with firearms,
and three of them were raped. One victim was an adult, the others minors.
This event had an enormous impact upon public opinion, though there never
was a satisfactory investigation. Nevertheless, the wish to stop the aggressors’
impunity grew among individuals and concerned groups. Then, a year later, in
February 1987, a series of systematic assassinations began—eleven to date-
generally of couples, in which the murderer was particularly merciless against
the female victim. Here again was evidence of an impunity against which it
seemed impossible to fight.

CEFEMINA plunged anew into discussions about how to deal with the
problem of violence against women. Members decided to seek direct interven-
tion in support of women; to orient the work toward criticism, sensitizing, and

164 Ana Carcedo

prevention; and to discredit violence. They reasoned that the aggressors’ im-
punity had persuaded society to accept its own impotence and passivity and to
accord little value to a woman’s life.

In August 1987, CEFEMINA began to conduct “meetings of small groups of
women, without the presence of men, so as not to inhibit them as they vent
their experiences” (Caravaca, 1987). Simultaneously, CEFEMINA offered lec-
tures to larger groups to sensitize them to the problem, to women’s rights, and
to prevention of aggression against women and children. The dynamics in
these groups quickly moved beyond legal questions as the complex realities of
fear, anguish, and illusion emerged. For six months these meetings brought
new elements of the aggression pattern to CEFEMINA’s attention.

As a result, in 1988, CEFEMINA developed a sensitizing workshop “Conflict
Among Spouses, Aggression in the Home, and Mistreatment of Minors”; we
carried the workshop to work and study centers in various cities and commu-
nities and to professionals and functionaries of different institutions. In our
travels across the country we met many people seeking to confront the prob-
lem, both individually and in groups. Some were independent professionals,
some had the support of institutions, and others were individuals sharing their
own resources. This exposure gave CEFEMINA an informal inventory of activ-
ists and additional insights.

Our work complemented the actions of a growing number of people who
worked to demystify violence and dedicate themselves to the defense of bat-
tered women—in lawyers’ offices, consulting rooms, work places, or teaching
posts. The strengthening of feminist currents and a growing general preoc-
cupation with the situation of women undoubtedly favored this new level of
activity, even though the topic remained taboo for the general public and
officially existed neither for the law nor for governmental institutions.

Finally, a Plan for Comprehensive Action: “Mujer No Estas Sola”

By the end of 1988, conditions seemed ripe for a significant step forward. This
at least was how it appeared to CEFEMINA, and its president so declared at the
inauguration of the Segundo Congreso Universitario de la Mujer (CUM) (Sec-
ond University Congress on Women) in September (Carcedo, 1989). A work-
ing session proposed a Comité Nacional por la No Violencia Contra la Mujer
(National Committee to Prevent Violence Against Women and in the Family)
to integrate previously dispersed efforts and promote new activities. At the
beginning, the committee included members of CEFEMINA and of the Com-

Women and Violence

165

most meaningfully to the individual—efficacy roots of feminism, and they must
be weighed as an important contribution to the ongoing dialogue in a society
that likes to avoid outright confrontations or espousals of strong stands.

In recent years, topics of concern to women have one after another literally
burst into public consciousness. Thus, in the late 1970s and early 1980s Costa
Ricans for the first time dared to discuss and research violence against women.
During the mid-198os, they found it possible to seriously consider the issue of
sexual preferences, and by the late 1980s incest had become a legitimate topic.
Now, in the early 1990s, the issue of abortion is in the foreground. In all
instances, the process began with grassroots self—help efforts to solve a prob-
lem. Local leaders then invited professional help and that in turn led to aca-
demic discussion and research which was followed by a move into politics or
legislation, which then finally encouraged a broad debate throughout the en-
tire society, including the media (see, e.g., Minsky, 1991). Although this process
does not bring instant solutions, it is a necessary approach a la Tica to an
eventual negotiated solution.

I/. Women’s Organizations and Organizations Working with Women

This section is probably the most complex and diverse thematic area of the
Reader, and its few contributions stand not only for the organizations men-
tioned by name but for many others that cannot be represented because of the
limits of space. These include women’s movement organizations, organiza-
tions working with and for women, feminist organizations, religiously based
organizations, concerned government institutions, foreign development orga-
nizations, and local nongovernmental organizations with foreign funding. In
some, one can witness the transition from women’s movement to feminism.
The variety is endless: Women as economic producers, as political actors, as
community leaders, as educators, as providers of a multitude of social services,
and as recipients of such services. In this context, one also must acknowledge
foreign influences, through foreign organizations, advisers, training of local
experts, and funding for local projects.

VI. The Women’s Movement and Feminism in the Arts

Here the contributors explore contrasting dimensions, as women artists in
various media question women’s identity and roles. Costa Rican women paint-
ers document traditional women’s roles as they depict the limits and hardships
these traditions imply. A woman writer’s poignant analysis of twenty-seven

The Women’s Movement and Feminism in the Early 1990s xvii

ité del Nifio Agredido (Committee for Battered Children); functionaries of
different institutions, ‘such as the Patronato Nacional de la Infancia (PANI)
(National Agency for Child Protection) and the Centro Nacional para el De-
sarrollo de la Mujer y la Familia (CMF) (National Center for the Development
of Women and the Family) of the Ministerio de Cultura, Iuventud y Deportes
(MCID) (Ministry of Culture, Youth, and Sports); professionals working in
private practice with battered women; and Women and men who simply
wanted to participate. In the end, a stable core emerged.

The first task this committee assumed was that of celebrating, for the first
time in Costa Rica, the Dia Internacional de la No Violencia Contra la Mujer
(International Day for the Prevention of Violence Against Women), on No-
vember 25, 1988. It was a success. Most of the diverse women’s groups, govern-
ment institutions, and programs specially directed toward women partici-
pated. For that occasion, the committee published “Mujer No Estas Sola”
(Woman, You Are Not Alone; 1988), a pamphlet directed at women who suffer
mistreatment. Thereafter, this pamphlet became one of the most important
instruments for communication among the women.

A few days later, “Nuestro Mundo” (Our World), a popular TV program
with a viewing audience made up mostly of housewives, began a series of open
telephone interviews. \/Vhen the topic of family violence against women came
up, many viewers called and asked for immediate help. The testimonies we
heard, and the anguish with which the women spoke, had a tremendous
impact. Not being able to offer counseling, the two presenters called for an
open meeting of all women who felt affected, to face together the problem of
aggression.

On December 1, 1988, about fifty women squeezed into a room at
CEFEMINA, and a new form of support group was born which became deci-
sive in the development of the movement against mistreatment of women.
Support groups strengthen the self—respect of every woman and her capacity to
make decisions and carry them out.

In August 1989, the National Committee for the Prevention of Violence
Against Women and CEFEMINA, working together, began the program Mujer
No Estas Sola, with help from the Centro Nacional para el Desarrollo de la
Mujer y la Familia (CMF). The program established support groups and work-
ing groups for sensitizing and prevention in communities. Today, it carries out
and fosters research, training, and counseling, and it also promotes changes in
public attitudes through the media. Within institutions it works to further a

166 Ana Carcedo

change of attitude in treatment and regulations, and on the national level,
promotes changes in legislation.

Between December 1988 and December 1991, more than three thousand
women, in groups or through individual consultation, have received help from
Mujer No Estas Sola. We respond to an average of 110 monthly phone calls
from women asking for support and counseling, and about 1oo calls from pro-
fessionals and institutions requesting information and coordination. We have
reached more than six thousand families in different communities through
programs of sensitizing and information. The women have the option of
joining working groups to solve specific problems or participating in work-
shops for empowerment.

The comprehensive approach to the problem and the individual support we
give each woman have contributed to the popularity of Mujer No Estas Sola.
The program has had a considerable impact because it is the first in Costa Rica
to offer direct attention to battered women. Results so far go beyond the mere
count of women who received services and information, or the experience our
organization gained. The Ley de Promocion de la Igualdad Social de la Mujer
(Law for the Promotion of Women’s Social Equality), approved in March 1990
(see Ansorena, chap. 12 above; Badilla, chap. 13 above; Facio, chap. 14 above),
the Defensoria de los Derechos Humanos de la Mujer (Office of the Defender
of Women’s Human Rights), formerly in the Ministry of Justice and now part
of the Defensoria de los Habitantes (Office of the Defender of the Inhabitants),
and the Delegacion de la Mujer (Women’s Delegation) in the Ministerio de la
Gobernacion y Policia (Ministry of the Interior and Public Safety) (essentially
a police station for gender crime where women can file complaints about
violence) provide important support for attention to women and prevention
of aggression against them.

A Network of Related Efforts

Aggression against women in the family is now a publicly accepted topic, and
art of the res onsibili for its acce tance rests with Mu'er No Estas Sola. As
P P P J
the wall of silence and prejudice crumbles, others have amplified our network
of related efforts, through new organizations, training programs for official
personnel, or international gatherings.
Some of these or anizations and their work with victims include the follow-
8
ing: The Comité delNif1o Agredido has for years carried on the almost impossi-

Women and Violence

167

ble task of abuse prevention in local communities. The Fundacion de Solidari-
dad (Solidarity Foundation) Works with women who have been operated on for
breast cancer, who are often mistreated physically and emotionally by their
families. Individual pioneers in therapy with groups of women victims of incest
have organized since April 1990 the Fundacion Ser y Crecer (FUNCRESER), a
private nonprofit organization that works in programs of prevention and
treatment, teaching victims that they are not guilty and that they can learn to
cope with their experiences (see Batres, chap. 19 below). The Fundacion Pro-
mocion, Capacitacion y Accion Alternativa (PROCAL) (Foundation for Ad-
vancement, Training, and Alternative Action) has been active since 1985, begin-
ning by helping street children and later moving into work with pregnant
adolescents, who are usually victims of incest or rape. For them it has created
shelters called Maria.Chiquita.

In the effort to sensitize and train officials of public institutions to the prob-
lem of violence, CEFEMINA and Woman, You Are Not Alone have cooperated
with FUNCRESER to provide training courses or workshops for members of
the Ministry of Justice, the judiciary system, and police forces. CEFEMINA
does continuous training of personnel of health organizations.

Finally, CEFEMINA and Woman, You Are Not Alone have been responsible
for national and international conferences in the area of violence against
women, in order to further raise consciousness and develop policy proposals.
The meeting of the Primera Consulta Nacional para Elaborar Propuestas de
Politicas Publicas en Relacion a la Violencia Contra la Mujer (First National
Conference for the Elaboration of Public Policies Regarding Violence Against
Women) on November 25, 1991, produced a list of ninety policy suggestions
addressed to all governmental and public institutions that are in any way
responsible for dealing with the problem of violence (CEFEMINA, 1991a).
With that same objective, the Primer Encuentro Centroamericano y del Caribe
Sobre Violencia Contra la Mujer (First Central American and Caribbean
Meeting on Violence Against Women) convened on December 1-8, 1991—with
representatives from more than forty programs in Canada, the United States,
Mexico, Guatemala, El Salvador, Honduras, Nicaragua, Costa Rica, Panama,
the Dominican Republic, Puerto Rico, Brazil, Peru, and Ecuador—and pro-
posed similar measures for the region (CEFEMINA, 1991b).

Finally, we must not forget the dispersed and anonymous collective of
professionals, mostly women, who at every state institution and in hundreds of
marginalized communities seek new ways of facing the problem and struggle
to persuade their institution to assume responsibility. But today, as we witness

168 Ana Carcedo

diverse approaches to the problem of violence, we see no single solution. We
accept the challenge and continue searching for new and better ways.

Biodata

Ana Carcedo is also a co—author of “Improving the Quality of Women’s Daily Lives:
Costa Rica’s Centro Feminista de Informacion y Accion,” which appears earlier in this
Reader and carries with it her biodata (see chap. 3 above).

References

Armas Romero, Rossy Bell, Adilia Caravaca Zufiiga, and Juan Bautista Conejo Badilla.
1986. “La mujer frente al sistema legal costarricense.” Licenciatura thesis, Facultad
de Derecho, Universidad de Costa Rica.

Caravaca Zufiiga, Adilia. 1987. Internal report. CEFEMINA. August 15-September 1.

Carcedo, Ana. 1989. “Palabras de bienvenida.” Mujer 5: 8.

CEFEMINA. 1983a. Mujeri (March).

CEFEMINA. 1983b. Mujer 2 (April).

CEFEMINA. 1991a. “La politica contra la violencia ha sido no tener politicas. Violencia
en la convivencia familiar contra la mujer y los nifios.” Draft of final document.
Mimeo. San Jose, Costa Rica: CEFEMINA.

CEFEMINA. 1991b. “Politicas publicas para enfrentar y prevenir la violencia contra las
mujeres y en la familia. Propuestas por el I Encuentro Centroamericano y del Caribe
Sobre Violencia Contra la Mujer.” Mimeo. San Jose, Costa Rica: CEFEMINA.

Comité Nacional para la No Violencia Contra la Mujer. 1988. Mujer No Estcis Sola. San
Iosé, Costa Rica. 8

Esquivel, Ana Luisa, Patricia Gonzalez, and Patricia Zufiiga. 1988. “El incesto: Un
estudio casuistico de seis familias.” Licenciatura thesis, Escuela de Psicologia, Uni-
versity of Costa Rica. i

Facio Fernandez, Tatiana. 1985. “La mujer agredida.” Mujer 1 (June): 39.

Molina Subiros, Giselle. 1989. “La mujer frente a la administracion de justicia.” Licen-
ciatura thesis, Law Department, Universidad de Costa Rica.

Peralta Cordero, Lidia. 1986. “Sindrome de la mujer agredida.” Licenciatura thesis, Law
Department, Universidad de Costa Rica.

Soto Cabrera, Tatiana. 1988. Los mecanismos legales desprotectores de la victima de
agresién sexual. San Jose, Costa Rica: Centro Nacional para el Desarrollo de la Mujer
y la Familia.

Ugalde, Iuan Gerardo. 1989. “Sindrome de la mujer agredida. Sindrome de la agresion
familiar.” Mujer 5: 41-43.

Women and Violence 169

19 %% Father-Daughter Incest
Case Studies in Costa Rica

Gioconda Batres Méndez

This study is based on the author’s research with victims of incest and their
families since 1988 and on her work as therapist with victims of extrafamilial
sexual abuse and intrafamilial incest, with adult male victims of brother-
brother incest, and with other sexual offenders who reported offenses during
therapy. The author treated at different times the abusing fathers, the mothers
of the victims, and the adolescent victims of father-daughter incest.

The phenomenon of incest in Costa Rica has been reported over a long
period. Only recently, however, has the accumulated evidence permitted a
systematic assessment of the complex dynamics of incestuous families and an
identification of the phenomenon’s social links with the structure of patriarchy
in Costa Rica. e '

Guided by a feminist vision of the problem, the author used more than one
hundred individual, family, and group therapy sessions with victims of incest
and their families in compiling this report. With the agreement of the victims,
the sessions were taped, transcribed, and then revised by them, so as to be true
to their testimonies. The study analyzes the statements of the victims and their
families and relates the findings to other investigations. It is a first attempt to
transmit the experiences of the author and her male and female patients. The
patients testify with courage about the process, sharing their pain in an effort
to clarify what is going on in Costa Rican families. All participants authorized
publication. The names of the victims have been changed to protect their
identity.

In this study we define incest to be any form of sexual caresses or sexual
gestures shared with a minor to satisfy the sexual needs of an adult whose
authority derives from the affective ties that connect him to the child. Al-
though this does not necessarily imply physical sexual relations, it can include,
beyond the use of pornography and sexual gestures, masturbation or sexual
relations between fathers and daughters.

17o

The Costa Rican Context

As part of the research, the author studied Costa Rican historic documents
in the Archivo Nacional (National Archives) to determine whether cases of
incest were reported in the past. Those who finally admitted that the prob-
lem exists in Costa Rica insist that it developed very recently, but this was
not the case. Even before 1817 reports were recorded in the archives. One
case, for example, was that of Lieutenant Matias H., who was suspected of
incest with Maria Gertrudis, his ten—year—old daughter. The father declared his
daughter provoked him, as she had “the inclination to be bad.” The father’s
lawyer accused the victim of having tried to threaten conjugal and familial
tranquility and, in the end, the judge absolved the father of all guilt (ANCR,
no. 1105).

More recently, various public institutions and private organizations, such as
the Comité del Nifio Agredido of the Hospital de Nifios (Committee for
Battered Children of the Children’s Hospital) and the Fundacion PANIAMOR
(Foundation for Bread and Love) have revealed that sexual abuse and incest in
Costa Rica are growing alarmingly. Both the press and various research organi-
zations now publish statistics that formerly remained hidden. These statistics
do not take into account the hundreds of cases that remain anonymous in
families that cover up the problem to avoid denouncing the offenders.

The Construction of Masculinity in Patriarchy:
How an Offender Is Formed

The true significance of father—daughter incest cannot be understood unless
the analysis parts from the perspective of patriarchy, in which men prevail over
women and women are subordinate. This unequal system ensures the repro-
duction of a masculine psychology of domination and a feminine psychology
of victimization, through which fathers exert great power over their daughters
(Herman, 1981, p. 55).

In contemporary Costa Rican society, the qualities considered masculine in
men do not differ much from the characteristics of the fathers in all the
incestuous families of the author’s clinical practice. Society expects men to
show strength, power, domination, and competitiveness. Sex is the arena in
which these concepts of masculinity are played out. Men are pushed to sepa-
rate affection from sex, are socialized into sexual activities and fantasies apart
from the context of a relationship, and are attracted to younger partners with

Father-Daughter Incest 171

less power than their own. Diane Russell calls this the mysticism of mas-
culinity, reinforced by media images and pornography (1984, p. 119).

The construction of this mystic masculinity within the family and its trans-
mission from generation to generation were defined by one of the victims in
the following manner:

My father’s father was also a machista (domineering male). Ever since he married
my grandmother, he cheated on her with other women and beat her up. He spoke to
my father of those women, of his adventures, and took him to prostitutes when he
was still young, to make him a man. Then my grandfather left my grandmother and
married another woman. My Papa hated his mother because she remarried. He said
she should have remained unmarried to raise her children, but for his father he feels
an obsession——his father is the only one he accepts as better than himself. It is the
same story with my brother, he is already like my father. He thinks women are dirty.
When I had a boyfriend, he began to cry and said I was a prostitute. He hits my
mother and my sisters, learning that one can hit women. Papa says he soon has to
take him to the prostitutes. But he is only twelve years old, and Papa shows him
naked women.'He took another son to prostitutes when he was only twelve years
old. For my little brother, Papa is the greatest. He always says he wants to be like him.

In this family, the hidden messages the young boy receives create in him
stereotypes of masculinity and an interpretation of the relationship between
men and women which implies that women are dirty sexually and must be
controlled. He learns that one way to control them is to hurt them—attack
them and humiliate them. He is beginning to know that if he wants to be
strong and have control, he must imitate his father. He has also learned that sex
and gentleness towards women do not go together.

In other families, three of the victims’ fathers read pornography and used
pornographic magazines during the incest with their daughters. The relation-
ship between pornography and sexual violence is sufficiently proved, and
offenders believe it can rationalize the sex act with children (Russell, 1986). It is
not surprising to hear incestuous fathers say that what they did with their
daughters did not harm them.

The Mothers

The author’s research revealed, as did that of others (Sgroi, 1982, p. 192), that
the mothers of the victims showed patterns of behavior consistent with one of
two models. The first model is that of women with low self—esteem, with a
history of abuse in their childhood and with few social relations. These women

172 Gioconda Batres Méndez

are submissive and dependent on their husbands and have no power within
the family. Because they do not think of themselves as capable of living without
their partner, these mothers find it most difficult to leave their husbands when
they discover incest.

The second model of mothers corresponds to women who have less serious
problems of childhood aggression or family pathology and who maintain
familial and social relations that give them support. These women can more
easily make decisions to leave, or to make their husbands leave the home when
the incest is discovered.

Carmen fits the first model, as her testimony shows:

Theresa was my foster mother. She had three single, embittered daughters. They
beat me with sticks and always complained about the sacrifice they had to make for
me. \/Vhen I was about five, my mother took me to collect rent for a few rooms she
rented, and I remember when she was talking to one of her tenants, a man picked
me up and kissed me on the mouth and touched my genitals. I/Vhen I was twelve
years old, my mother became sick with arteriosclerosis and was not quite coherent. I
felt very alone, she was the only one who had given me a little bit of affection. The
second daughter had ‘attacks’; they said she was schizophrenic and had to be com-
mitted to the former Asilo Chapui [psychiatric hospital]. I/Vhen I met the man who
is now my husband, it was a great success for me. I never believed I could have
anything, and this was the first thing I had. Besides, my sisters said we should not let
go of men when we are ‘fishing.’ I was very grateful someone like him paid attention
to me.

A weak powerless mother who cannot decide to leave, or ask her partner to
leave, creates conditions for a constant mother-daughter confrontation in
which the daughter feels betrayed and abandoned by the mother, and the
mother feels overwhelmed by a feeling of guilt for not protecting her daughter.
This is reinforced by a father who constantly belittles the mother and psycho-
logically abuses her. Yet, at the same time, the daughter also feels annoyed with
her mother for being weak and unable to protect herself against sexual aggres-
sion, and for needing to be protected. One adolescent said, “I do not think I
can ever get married. How could I leave my mother with my father? She says,
what would happen to her if I left? I hate that she is so dumb and lets herself be
managed by Papa.”

The mother-daughter interaction always presents two reproaches, one that
the daughter abandons the mother if she leaves, and the other that the mother
abandons her daughter when she tries to separate the daughter from the father.
On one occasion, when Carmen’s husband had to leave the house, she cried

Father-Daughter Incest 173

and lamented all day long, clearly blaming her daughter. Consequently, the
daughter’s depressive symptoms became severe as she, the victim, felt guilty for
having hurt others and having broken up the family.

The study indicated that victimized mothers must be an important focus in
the treatment of incest and that they need support. As a rule, mothers initially
offer resistance to any kind of treatment, especially group treatment, because
with their low self- esteem and feelings of guilt they find it difficult to face others.

The Victims

Five young women, ages thirteen to twenty—one, participated in the research.
All of them reported the incest to their mothers during adolescence. Four went
to, or are still undergoing, individual therapy with the author and participate
in a self—help group for victims of incest. The group is the first of its kind in
Costa Rica, and treatment is free. The young women belong to all social classes.
The earliest age of abuse was four years, the oldest eighteen years. One was
raped four times by her father; the contacts with the remaining four did not
include coitus. The average time they remained silent without commenting on
the incest to their mothers was seven years.

Taken together, these five victims represent a typology of different behavior
models toward incestuous sexual abuse. Their differences in behavior seem to
depend on personal, social, and family history, though they also display char-
acteristics similar to those of sex—crime victims—e.g., feelings of lack of control
over their own bodies, damage to their sexuality, guilt, shame, and a reduced
capacity to establish affective relationships. As already indicated, the primary
evidence for the study is the testimony of the young women. They themselves,
through their testimonies, related what incest has meant in their lives. Here are
three such testimonies:

Elena (twenty-one years old)

I do not remember when it began. I must have been seven years old. He pulled my
pants down and said vulgar things. When I was older, he asked me to put on sexy,
provocative clothing and to masturbate or watch him masturbate. I felt Papa did
this because he was the person who most loved me. He said it was a secret between
the two of us and made me feel important. I became disillusioned when he told me
he had given money to other girls to have sexual relations, and when he insulted me
when I went out with my friends.

Elena came for treatment for other reasons. During treatment she said an
unknown person had offered her work and asked her if she had been abused,

174 Gioconda Batres Méndez

promising to cure her of her trauma with a sexual relationship in which he
would do exactly the opposite of what her father did. She was not aware that
this was also a sexual abuse until someone close to her said she was behaving
strangely and made her seek therapy.

Many women who experience incestuous abuse and its associated betrayal
lose the capacity to correctly judge the honesty of others or to recognize the
difference between what may and may not be dangerous for them. Once that
capacity has been damaged, incest victims become vulnerable to later abuses.
They have repressed their deep, painful feelings of fear and rage and have
divided themselves into two parts. One part maintains an appearance of nor-
mality, the other denies the painful experiences and the feeling that they are
bad. This compartmentalization later keeps them from recognizing other abu-
sive situations.

Maria (fifteen years old)

Mother and Father were separated. VVhen I was thirteen, Mammi sent me to my
father. Whenever I went, he touched me. The second time I went, he raped me. It
happened about four times. He was always drunk and forced me. I did not tell
Mammi because I was afraid she would not believe me. Since this happened with
Papa, I am like this. I was different. I misbehaved, but not extremely. I went for
walks and came back, never did I do the devilish things I do now. All has changed
completely. I hate the world; I tell myself that I am an idiot that this had to happen
to me, that nobody would believe I am that stupid. It never entered my mind that
my father would do this to me. My Papa produces in me at the same time love, pity,
and resentment. I do not care if they lock him up.

This adolescent’s sexuality is associated with violence, repulsion, fear, rage,
shame, guilt, and a feeling of being dirty and hurt, which is typical for most
victims of sexual abuse (Russell, 1986). After her experience she began to show
signs of a chaotic sexuality, of sexual interests inappropriate for her age. She
fled from home, had sexual relations with a stranger, had behavioral problems,
and was put in a juvenile center. Some victims like Maria learn to identify
themselves as sex objects, to develop sexual relations like those they experi-
enced in childhood (Norwood, 1988, p. 117).

Cecilia (fifteen years old)

I remember when I went to kindergarten, Mammi sent me to Papa, so he would
teach me how to write. I was four years old. He did not tell me not to say anything,
but I never told Mammi because I did not know if it was okay or not. He told me
this was nothing rare, that fathers in the whole world had to do this. As I was only

Father-Daughter Incest 175

xviii

centuries of Western literature brings her readers face to face with the devastat-
ing myths and stereotypes of patriarchy. Yet, even now, as other contributors
demonstrate, popular music extols these same myths and stereotypes.

VII. The Constantly Evolving Status of Women’s Studies

The focus of the final section of the Reader is on Women’s Studies, the aca-
demic exploration of women’s vital contribution to society’s survival, and the
need for a social transformation that will allow women equal access to and
choices of opportunities and rewards. According to the fourfold mission of
Costa Rican universities, this includes teaching and research with a gender
perspective, the diffusion of gender—re1evant information, and extension work
with women at the grassroots level. The section focuses first on programs that
in the fall of 1993 inaugurated a joint master’s program in Women’s Studies at
two Costa Rican universities and then offers various examples of specific re-
search that represents this new field of Women’s Studies.

Taken together, the readings document the multiple, dynamic, action—oriented
quality of women’s efforts, together with a growing theoretical understand-
ing of women’s unique experience (Miller, 1991). They describe the social-
historical context within which the women’s movement and feminism have
emerged in Costa Rica and the growing concern with making women visible.
They illustrate the great diversity among those who are attempting to move
women from self—awareness to self-confidence, control, and power. They doc-
ument their work toward ending the violence against women and their at-
tempts to eliminate exploitation and to create equal opportunity. They also
suggest possible future trajectories of these movements and invite further
documentation, exploration, and, of course, action.

Each of the seven sections begins with an introductory overview and an
abstract of each reading in that section. Each reading concludes with a brief
biographical summary that not only demonstrates the commitment of the
author or authors but also provides a view of the complexity of women’s
activities in Costa Rica. More prosaically, these summaries underscore the fact
that it is often impossible in the Costa Rican setting, scholarly or otherwise, to
make a living in only one job or activity, even when one works at it full time.

References

Ansorena Montero, Aixa. 1993. “Disapproval of Abortion in Costa Rica: An Anthropo-
logical Study of a Forbidden Topic.” Paper presented at the Fifth International

Ilse Abshagen Leitinger

four years old, it did not mean anything, I believed it was normal since it was in a
magazine Papa showed me. I confused things, I thought what he did to me was
because he loved me, and I adored him. \/Vhen we are little, we believe what daddies
say. I could hit him, but he never hit me. I believed that was because he loved me; I
was all mixed up. I preferred to leave things alone and think of other things. Today I
feel sorry for my dad, but I do not want to see him again.

From age four until she was fifteen, when she reported the incest, Cecilia
was silent about her abuse. Then in school at lectures about sexual abuse she
had to confront her confusion again. Her grades suffered. She locked herself in
her room until she could stand it no longer, and then she told her mother.
Together they sought therapy.

Some children cannot recognize sexual gestures during abuse and interpret
them as affection. They are in no condition either to evaluate or to consent,
given the difference of power between father and children (Finkelhor, 1980, pp.
76-77).

Keeping the secret of having been a victim of sexual abuse for so many years
can increase the feeling of being stigmatized and the psychological impact of
guilt, shame, and low self—esteem. As Robin Norwood points out, the trauma
of incest consists in “the violation of confidence, the imposition of secrecy, the
negation of protection, the invasion of borders, be they physical or psychologi-
cal, or both” (1988, p. 153).

The Relationship with the Father

Ambivalences between loyalty and betrayal and between affection and an-
noyance characterized the father—daughter relationships of the young people
who participated in this study. They also reported compassion toward their
fathers, focusing less on their own pain and on that of their mothers.

For some, at least initially, the incest was important because it was the only
kind of affection or love they could have from their fathers. They expressed
love for their fathers but not for the abusive act. Two of them perceived the
sexual relations as a privilege that made them important through a relation-
ship in which they were special to their fathers. Although this relationship with
the father gave them a certain power over their brothers, sisters, and mother, it
also carried with it an oppressive power to unite the family or tear it apart if the
victim revealed the secret. This sense of power in individuals who have neither
any control over their own lives nor any power within the family is the only
access to power and control they can derive from their experience. At the same

176 Gioconda Batres Méndez

time, such sentiments increase their feelings of guilt and shame. For another
victim, the incest had an abusive meaning from the very beginning. She clearly
stated her annoyance with her father: “I would not have liked to love him,
because in this way I feel less betrayed. I feel better that I did not love him so
much. I never saw him as father, even before he abused me.”

The young women internalized a psychology of masculine supremacy,
which from generation to generation produces boys and girls who admire the
father’s power. Having subordinate women educate and raise boys and girls
guarantees that the psychology of masculine supremacy will be reproduced in
the next generation. Under such conditions, father—daughter incest will be
frequent (Herman, 1981).

The Family Dilemma

Costa Rican society values the family highly, and many incestuous families
confront the possibility of a break—up when they discover incest. They face a
dilemma: They can separate the victim from the home, a decision that creates
in her the sense of being castigated and revictimized, or they can separate the
father from the home, which produces in the victim a feeling of having be-
trayed or destroyed the family.

As long as the abuse is not acknowledged, the family can act out the social
farce of being united and well and can therefore retain society’s approval.
When the victim reveals the secret, the family may disintegrate. To defend
themselves against dissolution, many families require the victim to keep the
secret (Norwood, 1988). The author’s clinical experience has confirmed that
the victims in such families are the people who have the greatest difficulty
recuperating. Their feeling of double betrayal against the mother and the
father, their rage, and the control others maintain over them do not permit
them to take control of their own lives. This pattern is totally opposed to the
goal of therapy with the victims of incest, which is to help them to achieve just
this control.

Therapy for the Victims of Incest and Their Families

The self-help groups for victims of incest and their families, particularly the
mothers, are a treatment option that is beginning to show positive results.
Frequent in other countries, those groups are not as yet common in Costa
Rica. The two self-help groups of victims and mothers about which we are

Father—Daughter Incest 177

reporting are a beginning. The insight from this study indicates that we must
use all therapeutic means to treat these families and that self—help groups have
great value for the victims, mothers, and offenders in those families.

As for treating offenders, experts are debating whether therapy can modify
behavior. In the author’s experience, offenders do not accept therapy without
some coercion, though definite results are not yet available. An offender who
was referred to a male therapist, the only one who has accepted a year of
therapy, has made some behavioral changes but, in his therapist’s opinion, he
shows great resistance and little sensitivity for what has happened.

The Institutionalization of Treatment

In 1990, in an effort to institutionalize the treatment of victims of incest, a
group of concerned social scientists and health care professionals created the
Foundation for Life and Growth (FUNCRESER), a nonprofit organization
that through its program Amor Sin Agresion offers services to victims of
incest, sexual abuse, and other forms of aggression, and to the families of such
victims. As of the spring of 1992, the foundation has been receiving an average
of three calls daily for help, and it is providing ongoing treatment for one
hundred individuals, children, adolescents, and adults.

However, the goals of FUNCRESER are not limited to the comprehensive
treatment of victims, their families, and the offenders. Among its goals are
consciousness raising among professionals of public and private institutions
who work with children and women to foster a better understanding of the
problem, and an increase in research and the distribution of information
about incest.

This is a first report of an investigation in progress. The facts here reported
will be enriched as the research continues. At the moment of this writing, the
adolescent victims of incest and their mothers are continuing individual and
self—help group therapy. We, the researchers and therapists, are constantly
learning more about the victims’ plight and how to help them.

Biodata

Gioconda Batres Méndez obtained an M.D. from the Universidad Nacional Auténoma
de México (UNAM) and has a postdoctoral specialization in psychiatry from the
Universidad de Costa Rica. She did graduate work in women’s studies at the Centro
Interdisciplinario de Estudios de la Mujer (CIEM) (Center for Interdisciplinary Wom-
en’s Studies) at the Universidad Nacional. She has taught graduate gender studies

178 Gioconda Batres Méndez

courses sponsored by the Consejo Superior Universitario Centroamericano (CSUCA)
(Council of Central American Universities) and United Nations Development Fund
for Women (UNIFEM). She was a consultant for the Fundacion PAN IAMOR, a mem-
ber of the editorial board of the Colegio de Médicos (a professional organization of
medical doctors) writing about women-related topics. She was founder and president
of the Fundacion Ser y Crecer (FUNCRESER) (Foundation for Life and Growth).
Currently, she is a private therapist and the director of the Training Project for Domes-
tic Violence of the Instituto Latinoamericano para la Prevencion del Delito y el Trata-
miento del Delincuente (ILANUD) (United Nations Latin American Institute for the
Prevention of Crime and Treatment of Offenders). Through ILANUD, she published
in 1992 La violencia contra la mujer en la familia Costarricense (Aggression against
women in Costa Rican families), and in 1993 La silla de la verdad (The chair for telling the
truth), a guide with cartoon-like drawings to put at ease children who must testify in
court in domestic violence or incest lawsuits.

References

Archivo Nacional de Costa Rica (ANCR). Document no. 1105.

Finkelhor, David. 1980. El abuso sexual al menor. Mexico: Editorial Pax.

Herman, Judith Lewis. 1981. Father-Daughter Incest. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard Uni-
versity Press.

Norwood, Robin. 1988. Cartas de las mujeres que aman demasiado. Buenos Aires: Javier
Vergara, editor.

Russell, Diana. 1984. Sexual Exploitation. Beverly Hills, Calif.: Sage Publications.

——. 1986. The Secret Trauma. Incest in the Lives of Girls and Women. New York: Basic
Books

Sgroi, Suzanne. 1982. Handbook of Clinical Intervention in Child Sexual Abuse. Lex-
ington, Mass.: Lexington Books.

Acknowledgments

To the adolescents with whom I work, their mothers, and all those individuals who
support my efforts to understand the reality of incest in Costa Rica and to contribute to
the recuperation of those who survive incest and of their families.

Father-Daughter Incest 179


V % wOMEN’s ORGANIZATIONS AND
ORGANIZATIONS WORKING WITH WOMEN

Elizabeth Gomez M., staff member of MojerA  Estés Sola (Woman, You Are
Not Alone), on the hotline with a woman who is reporting abuse and aggression

As COSTA RICAN women have expanded their participation in society and
moved beyond traditional individual struggles for family survival, they have
taken a greater role in public leadership in work, community, and political
settings, from women’s movement types of activities to feminist concerns. At
the same time, governmental and nongovernmental organizations—domestic
and foreign—are beginning to pay greater attention to women’s needs and
contributions. A

Adapting skills that have served them well in the microenvironment of the
family or small enterprise, women are creating large institutions with elaborate
leadership hierarchies, handling complex administrative and financial pro-
cesses, participating in extended negotiations, making effective decisions for
large constituencies, and taking part in imaginative long-term planning.

This section first provides an impressionistic description of some of
the original humble, small—scale experiences of women and then demon-
strates—bypassing diverse intermediate stages—some of the ways women are
learning to master the challenges of large—scale organizations.

Peace Corps Volunteers See Working-Class Women’s Realities,
by Jessica Brown, Cynthia K. Green, Linda Pearl, and Vilma Pérez

The authors, Peace Corps volunteers, open this section with four vignettes
relating their experiences with working women’s problems in Costa Rica. The
authors draw upon their work in primarily poor rural and inner—city areas to
provide glimpses into women’s daily lives. The volunteers describe the percep-
tions, attitudes, and aspirations of these women and offer examples of women’s
resourcefulness, creativity, individual efficacy, and increasing consciousness.

Women as Leaders in the Costa Rican Cooperative Movement,
by Mireya Iiménez Guerra
Mireya Iiménez reports on efforts to enlarge the participation of women in the
leadership of cooperatives through training programs and consciousness rais-
ing. The author provides a brief overview of the slowly increasing participa-
tion of women in the upper ranks of the Costa Rican cooperative movement.
Although in theory the movement supports women’s integration into its polit-
ical, economic, and educational leadership, in practice traditional patterns of
discrimination still prevail. Women still struggle to gain a leadership presence
that corresponds to their active involvement in cooperatives.

Training provided by the Asociacion Programa Nacional de Asesoria y
Capacitacién para la Mujer is increasing the number of women who qualify for
leadership positions, though the program leaders anticipate an uphill fight.

182 Women's Organizations

Two other organizations, the Comité Regional de la Mujer Cooperativista de
Centroamérica y del Caribe and the Fundacion para el Desarrollo de la Mujer
Cooperativista (FUNDACOOP) provide technical or management training to
women cooperativists.

The Struggle for Housing in Costa Rica: The Transformation of
Women into Political Actors, by Montserrat Sagot

Montserrat Sagot reports on her analysis of the efforts of lower-class women to
obtain adequate housing through a concerted and highly organized self—help
movement. The struggle converted participating women into self-confident,
successful political actors at the grassroots level. The study examines the ac-
tivities of women members of the Comité Patriotico Nacional (COPAN), the
country’s most effective organization in the struggle for housing, as a case
study of women’s political participation in Costa Rica during the 1970s and
1980s. Sagot reviews the factors responsible for the rise of new social move-
ments in Latin America, specific socioeconomic conditions that promoted the
Costa Rican housing movement, the growth of the movement and its influence
on government policy, and the implications of women’s political participation
for their personal and family lives.

Long-Term Survival of a Costa Rican Women’s Crafts Cooperative:
Approaches to Problems of Rapid Growth at CASEM in the
Santa Elena—Monteverde Region, by Ilse Abshagen Leitinger

Many income—generating projects for women in Latin America involve the
production of crafts. They often fail after varying periods of operation. By
contrast, the Comisién de Artesanos Santa Elena—Monteverde (CASEM), a
women’s crafts cooperative, survived serious challenges during its ten years of
operation and now plays a substantial economic, social, and policy-making
role in its region. It has experienced impressive growth (from 8 to nearly 150
members) and achieved substantial product diversification. The analysis de-
scribes the historic background of the region and discusses CASEM’s origin,
rapid growth, training and marketing programs, and its social mission for
women’s empowerment. The article concludes with a summary of CASEM’s
five-year plan.

Reconceptualizing the Theory of Women in Organizations:
Contributions of Feminist Analysis, by Laura Guzman Stein

The final article in this section contributes to the theoretical—philosophical
basis of feminism. Laura Guzman presents an argument for improving all

Womenk Organizations 183

organizational analysis by integrating women’s positive, creative, and charac-
teristically female contributions to organizational efficiency. The study probes
four assumptions about women in the classic Weberian theory of organiza-
tions: (1) women do not participate in organizations; (2) Women are incapable
of resisting exploitation and subordination; (3) in some organizations, women
are already integrated; and (4) the structural informality of women’s organiza-
tions creates problems as Well as potential. The author argues that women’s
experiences in organizations cannot be subsumed under men’s experiences.
Analyzing and understanding women’s experiences requires a redefinition of
concepts and models and the incorporation of the concept of gender into a
revised theory of organizations.

184 Women’s Organizations

20 %% Peace Corps Volunteers See
W0rking—Class W0men’s Realities

Iessica Brown, Cynthia K. Green, Linda Pearl,
and Vilma Pérez

Maruja and Maria (Ciudad Quesada,
Northern Lowlands, Caribbean Coast)

“Ooh! I wonder if Gonzalo left any money in his pants,” says Maria as she
checks her brother’s trousers before washing them. “Hmph,” she snorts, “only
40 colones [50 cents U.S. at the time of the story]. Well, whatever he leaves in
his pockets is mine to keep.” a 0

I’m a bit stunned at this, feeling it’s dishonest. “Do you really keep the
money?” I ask. “How much do you find?”  

“Oh, once I found 200 colones, and another time, Papi left 400 colones in
his pocket. ‘;Salad0! [Your tough luck!],’ I say. After I find the money, I tell the
boys, ‘I clean, cook, and wash—and only sometimes do you pay me for the
washing.’ ”   I

Maria’s mother, Maruja, lets out a big sigh as she eyes the pile of clothes to
be ironed. She’s already ironed seventeen shirts, I count, amazed. “Oh,” says
Maruja, “if Carlos Iosé [Maruja’s husband] didn’t leave his wallet around I
wouldn’t have a thing, and neither would the children. Not a thing. This
morning, he left his wallet. I took 1,000 colones to buy a thermos for Pablo
when he starts high school. It’s not fair! Yesterday Carlos went to the bank and
withdrew 20,000 colones for his brother and 5,000 colones to lend his friend.
And he makes me beg for every penny he gives me and then justify where I

spent it. He says women don’t need m0ney——that our work in the house isn’t

really work. There are six males in this house, with just Maria and me to do all
the housework. He pays his sons for work in the field—even the six-year—old—
but doesn’t pay his daughter or wife for work in the house. No, Jessie, taking
money from his wallet is not a sin. It’s not a sin.”
‘‘You’re right,” I think to myself, “it’s not.”
Iessie Brown  

185

Interdisciplinary Congress on Women, February 22 to 26. Universidad de Costa
Rica. San Iosé, Costa Rica.

Biesanz, Richard, Karen Zubris Biesanz, and Mavis Hiltunen Biesanz. 1982. The Costa
Ricans. Englewood Cliffs, N.I.: Prentice Hall.

Cersésimo, Gaetano. 1986. Los estereotipos del costarricense. San Iosé, Costa Rica: Edi-
torial de la Universidad de Costa Rica.

Escobar, Francisco. April 19, 1992. “s00 afios de destierro.” La Nacion. Revista Domini-
cal, pp. 16-17.

Iaquette, Jane S. 1989. The Women’s Movement in Latin America. Boston: Unwin
Hyman.

Leitinger, Ilse Abshagen. 1993. “Work at the Grassroots, Networking, and Multiple
Efforts Towards Change in the Contemporary Costa Rican Context.” Paper pre-
sented at the Fifth International Interdisciplinary Congress on Women, February 22
to 26. Universidad de Costa Rica. San Jose, Costa Rica.

Miller, Francesca. 1991. Latin American Women and the Search for Social Iustice. Han-
over and London: University Press of New England.

Minsky Acosta, Larissa. November 17, 1991. “;Violacion! El poder detras del sexo.” La
Nacion. Revista Dominical, pp. 6-9.

Naranjo, Carmen. 1989. Majer y cultura. San Jose, Costa Rica: EDUCA.

Rodriguez Vega, Eugenio. 1979. Apuntes para una sociologia costarricense, 3rd. ed. San
Iosé, Costa Rica: Editorial Universidad Estatal a Distancia (UNED).

The Women’s Movement and Feminism in the Early 19905 xix

Locha (Samara, Nicoya Peninsula, Pacific Coast)

Eloisa Iiron Lopez, known as Locha, is at times a typical Tica, yet she is fiercely
independent. She was born and raised in a small pueblo, Samara de Nicoya, in
Guanacaste Province. Married at the age of fifteen, Locha found herself di-
vorced at the age of twenty—five, homeless and facing the task of raising three
boys, ages five, seven, and nine. She returned to her mother’s house to seek
shelter and food for herself and the children, but within a week she knew she
needed to find some way to support herself. She found work, and for two
rigorous years worked from 6 a.m. to 9 p.m. cleaning and cooking for fifteen
people and from 9 p.m. to 2 a.m. serving food and drinks in a small bar.
During this time, Locha saved as much money as she could. She was lucky
because her mother helped her by watching the boys.

When Locha had saved enough money, her mother, who owned some land,
gave her a small plot on which to build a house. Locha’s house initially was just
two sleeping areas. Further work on the house had to wait and was done as she
could pay for it. She found another job with better pay for fewer hours. Even as
busy as she was, she still made time to teach her children good work habits and
moral values.

It has taken more than twelve years, but Locha now has a beautiful rancho
house with three bedrooms and a kitchen with a brand new stove and re-
frigerator. Her current project is having a new toilet and shower installed. And
all around her house are beautiful trees, plants, and flowers that she planted
and tended over the years.

Her boys are grown now. Two completed high school, which was difficult
because Locha had to pay room and board for them in another town two
hours away. Her three sons do not smoke or drink and are well—adjusted young
men. To clothe them over the years, Locha learned to sew, and she now owns
two sewing machines and makes clothing. She uses the income from making
clothes, and some from cutting hair, to supplement her social security support
payments. Her mother is now building a new house, and Locha is helping out
financially when she can.

Many Ticas in Locha’s situation would never have achieved what she did,
especially more than a decade ago. Most would have been content to live with
their parents and look for another husband to support them. Locha never
remarried, and she is proud of the fact that she accomplished everything on
her own. She is not rich, but she has a roof over her head, clothes on her back,
and food on her table—-good food, meat and vegetables, not just rice and

186 Iessica Brown, Cynthia K. Green, Linda Pearl, and Vilma Pérez

beans. She is free to come and go as she pleases. She is not afraid to leave the
house at night and can be seen frequently at the dances here and in Nicoya.
Locha is well liked and respected in the community, and she has set a good
example, showing that a Tica can survive alone and well.

How do I know all this? I am a Peace Corps volunteer. When Locha heard I
needed a place to live, she opened both her heart and house and said, “Come,
live with me.”

Cindy Green

The CoopeVegan Soccer Team (CoopeVega de Kutris,
Near Ciudad Quesada, Caribbean Lowlands)

CoopeVega is located thirty—five kilometers south of Nicaragua, near the San
Carlos River. I/Vhen I joined the community, I tried to decide howl could help.
I found the town lacked public facilities, such as a park or a clean cemetery.
The townspeople were poor, and an income—generating activity, perhaps a
bakery, seemed a good project. I tried to generate interest in my ideas among
the women, but after several failed attempts to motivate them, I realized it was
time to listen instead. I asked the women what they wanted to do. They wanted
to play soccer.

In fact, a fair number of women wanted to play soccer, but they never had
tried it because they thought it was a man’s sport. I insisted that if they wanted
to play they could. Once the women learned that the “gringa” not only knew
how to play soccer but had played it in the United States, they decided they
could play, too. Our team began with several women, and they invited others.
Gradually more and more women showed up, until the team finally had seven-
teen members—some married, some single, all between the ages of twelve and
twenty-six. After practicing for several months, the women wanted to play
against another team, and they organized a game against a local men’s team.
The women won!

When the women first started practicing, the men didn’t have any objec-
tions. They figured the women would lose interest quickly, so it was easier not
to say anything. After the game against the men, however, the team members’
husbands and fathers said the women could continue to play, as long as they
competed only against other women. There are no other women’s teams near
CoopeVega, but this didn’t discourage the women; they simply invited other
women’s teams from the region.

To encourage support from the CoopeVega community, the women de-

Peace Corps Volunteers See Working-Class Women’s Realities 187

cided they would also invite men’s soccer teams to come and play against the
CoopeVegan men’s teams. This way, the town members would turn out to
watch the men, but they would also get to see the women. After the first game,
the townspeople realized that the women were pretty good, and thereafter they
came to support both the women and the men. \/Vhen the women wanted to
travel to other communities, the town helped to arrange transportation, and
husbands and fathers allowed the women to go and play. This was a wonderful
thing, since in many rural areas women are still not permitted to leave the
house.

At first, CoopeVegan uniforms consisted only of matching shirts—team
members wore their own shorts. The women’s team shared the shirts with the
men: After playing their game, the women would quickly change shirts so the
men could play. The women soon decided they wanted their own uniforms,
and they set out to raise money, selling food during home games and holding a
dance. Their work paid off: They accumulated enough money to buy fifteen
complete uniforms—shirts, shorts, and socks.

The CoopeVegan women’s soccer team is still going strong. All they needed
was someone to listen and to support them. Seeing that they could start and
succeed with an activity gave the women strength to organize games, travel,
raise money, and buy uniforms. This strength carried over to other aspects of
their lives. For the first time, women are now on the governing board for
CoopeVega. They are more actively involved with community enhancement
groups, such as one that works with the local health center. Through playing
soccer, the CoopeVegan women learned that if they want to, they can do things.
They are now using this knowledge to help themselves and their community.

Linda Pearl

The Women of Limoncito (Shantytown in the Center of Limon,
Costa Rica’s Principal Port on the Caribbean Coast)

The center of Limon has two shantytowns: Cieneguita and Limoncito. They
reflect the social problems of big cities: underemployment, poverty, drugs, and
distrust toward one’s neighbors. People who need a favor probably won’t ask
and are more likely to steal. I was sent to help Limoncito’s women alleviate
their economic and social problems.

Most women in Limoncito are married. Their husbands work six-day
workweeks for Envaco, a carton factory; Instituto Costarricense de Ferroca-
rriles (INCOFER) (Costa Rican Railway Institute); or Junta de Administracion

188 Iessica Brown, Cynthia K. Green, Linda Pearl, and Vilma Pérez

Portuaria y de Desarrollo Economico de la Vertiente Atlantica (IAPDEVA)
(Board of Port Administration and Economic Development of the Atlantic
Coast), the port authority. Women fix their husband’s noonday meal and send
it to them in a thermos. They take care of children and do housework, and
most of them also do crafts to bring in extra income. In cases of severe
economic need, they hold part—time jobs, though few such jobs are compatible
with the women’s already busy days.

The first income—generating project I proposed was one for making tor-
tillas, but it failed—the women were not motivated, because large factories
turn out good tortillas. Then I came up with the idea of working bamboo to
make furniture and crafts. With increasing deforestation, the government and
international agencies are promoting the use of bamboo for building houses
and other structures in many parts of Costa Rica. At the first meeting I called,
only eight women showed up, and those eight needed a job desperately. It was
four weeks before I could convince additional women to join the bamboo
project.

Even if they came, could I teach the women the art of bamboo work? I had
no experience with bamboo. But when I was young, I used to do carpentry
work with my father, and I relied on that memory. So I adapted tools to
working with bamboo, which is a common material in the area. I improved my
skills, I taught the women what I knew, and we made bamboo products,
polishing our techniques and sometimes finishing the bamboo pieces with bits
of wood or wire. Our work sessions became times of comradeship as we shared
a lot of small talk, trading jokes and talking about our lives. We ended up
trusting each other.

After three months we had created several prototypes. We made flower
bases and hanging flower containers, differently shaped supports of horizontal
hollowed parts of bamboo trunks, or vertical pieces of trunks with several
inserted protruding spout-like holders for individual flowers or vines. In the
Limon climate, you can put plants into holders without soil, and they will
thrive on only air and water, be it rain or spray, and flower every year. We also
developed table, wall, and ceiling lamps; letter holders; picture holders; a
purse; and two types of beaded curtains for doorways. We exhibited the pro-
totypes in a souvenir shop where we could gain feedback from customers. The
exhibit was a success, and the women then decided to explore the bamboo
crafts market. We wanted to create a local market for bamboo goods; if we
could do this, then we would integrate personnel to help us export our prod-
ucts. First, however, we wanted to ensure the local market by talking to owners

Peace Corps Volunteers See Working—Class Women’s Realities 189

of several furniture stores and gaining their support for our products, which
they agreed to give. Our next step will be to work out a marketing plan. We’ll
determine which parts of town offer a market, and which items will be most
profitable. We’ll also discuss whether we need to modify any of the items or to
discontinue production of some.

But we needed to consider another problem. VVho would take care of the
children? All the craftswomen have small children; the mothers would rather
give up their jobs than neglect their home duties. We therefore planned a
workplace with a small playground where the women could work and keep an
eye on the children at the same time.

As we worked, we discussed women’s right to a better life and better treat-
ment. These were new thoughts. The women even considered such an idea an
excess of freedom, which could disrupt family ties. In their view, women must
be devoted to the home, and the women of Limoncito want to be housewives
forever. They do not want to change their status; they believe in the division of
labor by sex. My coworkers distinguished two kinds ofwomen: women and
true women. A woman is a female, but a true woman is a female who can do
hard work without failing in her main duty of being a housewife. Although the
women of Limoncito said they consider carpentry men’s work, they did not
think they were invading the men’s area by working with bamboo. In fact, they
said, carpentry with bamboo does not reduce their femininity, it exalts it
because they do it in addition to taking care of their home.

In the coming months, the women will add other crafts to their bamboo
work—knitting, Crocheting, embroidery, and fabric painting. They want to
produce a variety of items to satisfy different clients’ needs and to avoid sat-
urating the market with a few items. Eventually, they plan to train other
women to meet the demand for bamboo products.

Right now, the project looks workable. The group needs additional tools, a
permanent workplace, product storage space, and some support from govern-
ment agencies. But the women of Limoncito have already enjoyed their first
success: They feel strong enough to face these problems, and they are confident
they will succeed with their enterprise.

Vilma Pérez

Biodata

Jessica Brown is from Albuquerque, New Mexico, and holds a B.A. (1987) in political
science and Latin American studies from Colorado College in Colorado Springs. As a
Peace Corps volunteer, she was stationed between 1989 and 1991 in Esquipulas de Aguas
Zarcas, San Carlos.

19o Iessica Brown, Cynthia K. Green, Linda Pearl, and Vilma Pérez

Cynthia K. Green, from Muskegon, Michigan, has a B.S. (1983) in business admin-
istration from Grand Valley State College in Allendale, Michigan. She did graduate
work in business administration at Western Michigan University in Kalamazoo, Michi-
gan. Between 1989 and 1991, she was stationed in Samara de Nicoya.

Linda Pearl, from Denver, Colorado, holds a B.A. (1986) in economics and business
administration from Fort Lewis College, Durango, Colorado. She was stationed in
CoopeVega de Kutris between 1988 and 1990.

Vilma Pérez is from Toa Alta, Puerto Rico. She completed a B.A. (1979) in social
anthropology and geography at the University of Puerto Rico and an M.A. (1983) in
applied anthropology, linguistics, and bilingual education at the University of Florida.
She taught at the Colegio Universitario Tecnologico de Bayamon (Bayamon Technical
College), University of Puerto Rico, and was stationed in Los Corrales, Limon, between
1989 and 1991.

Acknowledgments

The four authors were part of the Women in Development program of the Peace Corps
in Costa Rica between 1988 and 1991. Like all Peace Corps volunteers, they were general-
ists, open to different tasks, flexible and adaptable, even though each had her own
special interests. As a rule, Peace Corps volunteers are involved in more than one activ-
ity, e.g., working with women in ‘small income-generating enterprises, such as bakeries,
medicinal or vegetable gardens, or crafts cooperatives; teaching English or other sub-
jects; helping with or developing educational programs, kindergartens, sports, or early
childhood stimulation programs; or participating in diverse communal activities.

Peace Corps Volunteers See Working-Class Women’s Realities 191

21 3% Women as Leaders in the
Costa Rican Cooperative Movement

Mireya Iiménez Guerra

The goal of the cooperative movement in Costa Rica is to improve the socio-
economic situation of its members. In 1993, the movement consisted of four
hundred cooperatives, involved in a great variety of productive enterprises and
comprising approximately 3oo,ooo members. They represented nearly 10 per-
cent of the total population of the country and 30 percent of the economically
active population.

To understand women’s situation in the Costa Rican cooperative move-
ment, we must know something about the socioeconomic and political situa-
tion of the country. In Costa Rica approximately 51 percent of all households
are headed by women, yet women workers earn less than men. The average
monthly salary for women working in manufacturing or in the maquila (as-
sembly) industries, for instance, came to approximately 8,000 colones from
1988 through 1990 (about $90-95 U.S. in early 1990). In comparison, the aver-
age monthly salary for men during that period was 1o,ooo to 12,000 colones
(about 55115-140); men, however, almost always perform more skilled or pres-
tigious tasks, often of a supervisory nature. This gender discrepancy between
salaries remains essentially the same today.

Life expectancy for Costa Rican women is eighty years. After a long mar-
riage, many women are widowed or divorced in middle age. Although in
theory women are free to finish their studies or take up some employment to
make themselves independent, it is unfortunately true that many succumb to
cultural pressures and instead search for personal security in a second mar-
riage. Tradition has made women believe they are without value if they have no
man at their side.

In View of these cultural pressures, it is a great struggle for a woman who
wants to achieve identity through her own capacity and initiative, to become
an actor and a leader instead of remaining an object. At the same time, women

192

do occupy important political positions in government, though their par-
ticipation in regional politics, municipalities, and political parties is smaller
(PRIEG, n.d.). A few examples: Under President Oscar Arias (1986—9o), the
second vice president of the republic, Victoria Garron, was a woman. During
those years, women also accounted for 12.5 percent of the membership in the
Legislative Assembly, and for 7 percent in the leadership in municipalities.
Under President Rafael Angel Calderon (1990-94), both the minister of jus-
tice, Elizabeth Odio, and the minister of culture, youth, and sports, Aida
Faingezicht, were women. Women made up 10.5 percent of the Legislative As-
sembly, and, again, 7 percent of municipal leadership (Jimenez, 1994). More-
over, a woman, Margarita Penon, the wife of ex-president Oscar Arias, ran for
nomination for president of one of the two leading political parties. Although
she was not nominated, she forced other candidates to address issues that
otherwise might have been neglected.

Women in the Costa Rican Cooperative Movement

Women represent about 4o percent of the total membership in the Costa Rican
cooperative movement, in all parts of the country. Originally, women were
passively associated with cooperatives, as followers; rarely did they hold leader-
ship positions. Many factors limited women’s active participation, the more
important ones being male domination or machismo, women’s limited educa-
tion, the work load of the Double Day, women’s fear of asserting themselves,
and inadequate preparation for leadership.

Since 1985, however, women have begun to ascend to leadership positions.
The cooperative movement has given them opportunities to incorporate them-
selves more effectively into its political and decision—making structures, mainly
through the work of three organizations. The Asociacion Programa Nacional
de Asesoria y Capacitacion para la Muj er Cooperativista (APROMUIER) (Na-
tional Advisory and Training Program for Women Cooperativists), founded in
1985, is training and advising women on various aspects of cooperativism. The
Comité Nacional de la Mujer Cooperativista (National Committee of Women
Cooperativists), established in 1987, receives support from the Norwegian gov-
ernment’s Alianza de Cooperativas Internacional (International Alliance of
Cooperatives) and has counterparts in all other Central American countries; it
is helping with the organization of women’s cooperatives. The most recent, the
Fundacion para el Desarrollo de la Mujer Cooperativista (FUNDACOOP)

Women as Leaders in the Cooperative Movement 193

(Foundation for the Development of Women Cooperativists), which dates
from 1990, is focusing particularly on educating women cooperativists for
management and for attention to environmental questions (Iiménez, 1994).
The following is a brief analysis of the increase in women’s participation in
the cooperative m0vement’s leadership to document the advance of women as
leaders in the political, economic, and educational activities of the movement.

Women in the Political Leadership of Costa Rican Cooperativism

At the beginning of the 1989-91 period, seven women were elected to the
political leadership structure of the cooperative movement, the plenary of the
Consejo Nacional de Cooperativas (CONACOOP) (National Council of C0-
operatives). Given a total of forty—one seats in the plenary, the seven women
accounted for 17 percent of the total. The same percentage holds for the 1991-
93 period. Earlier, in the 1987-89 period, five women so elected represented 13
percent of the total membership of thirty-eight. This compares to the years
1979-81, when the first woman ever elected to the plenary constituted 4 per-
cent of the total membership of twenty—five (INFOCOOP, 1990; Iiménez, 1989,
p. 5; Iiménez, 1994). Since the plenary distributes the power for the develop-
ment of cooperatives, women’s increasing participation at the top level of the
movement is clearly important.

APROMUIER, which has been charged with preparing women cooperativ-
ists for political participation, has established as a goal for 1993-95 raising
w0men’s participation in the plenary to 30 percent. Though w0men’s par-
ticipation did not reach that goal it rose to above 21 percent, the highest rate
lever achieved (Campos and Iiménez, 1995).

Women as Managers of Cooperatives

Within the economic management of cooperatives, women participate as lead-
ers in the maquila and ready-to—wear textile industries in 2 percent of all
cooperatives in the country. However, cooperatives administered by women
are not always women’s cooperatives.

Since early 1990, w0men’s cooperatives have been establishing themselves in
the southern zone of the Pacific coastal lowlands, in Limon at the Caribbean
coast, and in San Carlos in the northern Caribbean lowlands, all of which are
in full operation under women’s leadership. Women’s participation in eco-

194 Mireya Iiménez Guerra

nomic management often is hindered by the machista (male-dominant) pat-
tern of Costa Rican society and by women’s lack of training in business admin-
istration (INFOCOOP, 1990).

Women Leaders in Cooperativism’s Educational Structures

One of the findings of the 1989 study was that women cooperativists have
had little access to the educational structures of Costa Rican cooperativism
(Iiménez, 1989: 13). Cooperativist leadership has, however, become aware of
women’s limited participation. Through its training programs, APROMUIER
has been pursuing the goal of increasing the representation of women in the
education for leadership.

Consequently, in 1989-90, APROMUIER provided training for one hun-
dred women leaders in management courses, for ten women in marketing
courses, and for three women in the upper administration in the Centro
Nacional de Educacion Cooperativa (CENECOOP) (National Center for Co-
operativist Education). These women also participated in seminars on current

economic problems of the country (INFOCOOP, 1990). Currently, these train-

ing programs continue, and new women cooperativists are enrolled in them.

The Future of Women as Leaders in Cooperatives

In Costa Rica, as in most Latin American countries, women have been dis-
criminated against in the formal work force. In many government institutions,
discriminatory beliefs and practices inhibit the use of women’s skills under
conditions equal to those of men. In the private sector similar discrimination
prevents women from participating in the work force. And in the informal
private sector, we find such discrimination is intensified by a scarcity of capital,
a lack of knowledge about women’s abilities, an absence of skills training for
women, and a lack of protection through legislation (Iiménez, 1989: 13).

Moreover, the staffing of executive positions in the cooperative movement
itself reflects this inequality. Since its inception in 1973, every executive secre-
tary of CONACOOP has been a man. Recommendations of the plenary or the
executive to consider women have been recommendations in theory only.
Even in second-level positions, in federations and unions, the leadership con-
sists only of men (Jimenez, 1989: 13).

This gender inequality occurs despite the fact that the few women leaders in

Women as Leaders in the Cooperative Movement

195





































































































































































I


the cooperative movement demonstrate a higher level of general schooling
than men. Among women leaders, 47 percent have had university training,
compared with 28 percent of men (Iiménez, 1989: 25). But women are still
marginalized by the leadership and are denied an opportunity to ascend to
higher positions.

In sum, this analysis shows that although women have made strides in the
cooperative movement in Costa Rica, the leaders of that movement have backed
women’s participation in leadership roles more in theory than in practice. Male
leaders still hold and enact traditional sociocultural beliefs. APROMUIER
argues that the more effective incorporation of women into the political and
decision—making ranks of cooperativism will not only advance women but will
also strengthen and consolidate the movement as a whole. At the same time,
APROMUIER knows that if women cooperativists want to join these ranks,
they face an up—hill struggle requiring the training, initiative, and persistence of
many women. Two organizations—the Comité Regional de la Muj er Cooperati-
vista de Centroamérica y del Caribe and FUNDACOOP—reinforce and extend
the work of APROMUIER in response to the perceived need for training in
order to prepare women cooperativists for leadership.

Biodata

Mireya Iiménez Guerra has a bachelor’s degree in psychology from the Universidad
Auténoma Centroamericana and a licenciatura in sociology from the Universidad
Nacional. She has done graduate work in planning, in the joint program of the Costa
Rican Ministerio de Planificacién Nacional y Politica Economica (MIDEPLAN) (Min-
istry of National Planning and Economics) and the Chilean Instituto Latinoamericano
de Planificacion Econo’mica y Social (ILPES) (Latin American Institute for Economic
and Social Planning), and in agricultural administration and extension at the Centro
de Cooperacion Internacional para el Desarrollo Agricola (CINADCO) (Center of
International Cooperation for Agricultural Development) at the Israeli Ministry of
Agriculture. She participated in the international seminar, “The Role of Women and
Youth in the Cooperative Movement,” sponsored by the Adenauer Foundation in Cali,
Colombia. She was the first president of the Comité Regional de la Mujer Cooper-
ativista de Centroamérica y del Caribe (Regional Committee of Central American and
Caribbean Women Cooperativists) and is a member of the Planning Department of
the Instituto Nacional de Fomento Cooperativo (INFOCOOP) (National Institute for
the Development of Cooperatives), which plans the development of cooperative ac-
tivities. She is also the president of the Foundation for the Development of Women
Cooperativists (FUNDACOOP), the first foundation of its kind in Central America.
Among her publications are Situacién del movimiento Cooperativo en Costa Rica (1989)
and Majer y desarrollo en Costa Rica (1994).

196 Mireya Iiménez Guerra

References

Campos Méndez, Marta, and Mireya Iiménez Guerra. 1995. Diagnostico de la participa-
cio’n de la mujer en el sector cooperativo costarricense. San Jose, Costa Rica: Asocia-
cion Nacional de Asesoria y Capacitacion para la Muj er (APROMUIER).

Instituto Nacional de Fomento Cooperativo (INFOCOOP). 1990. Internal documenta-
tion. .

Iiménez Guerra, Mireya. 1989. Diagnostico de la participacion de la mujer en el movi-
miento cooperativo costarricense. San Jose, Costa Rica: APROMUIER.

——. 1994. Participacion de la mujer en las estructuras socioeconomicas de Costa Rica.
Parts 1 and 2. San José, Costa Rica: FUNDACOOP.

Programa Interdisciplinario de Estudios de Género (PRIEG). n.d. “Situacion de la
mujer en Costa Rica: Un perfil de su discriminacion.” Mimeo. San Jose’, Costa Rica:
Universidad de Costa Rica.

Acknowledgments

The article is based on a 1989 study carried out by the author for APROMUIER, with
updates to 1992. The author would like to thank Marta Campos Méndez, president of
APROMUIER, for years of cooperation in the struggle to empower women in the
cooperative movement.

Women as Leaders in the Cooperative Movement 197

22 =§% The Struggle for Housing in Costa Rica
The Transformation of Women into Political Actors

Montserrat Sagot

This study examines the political participation of women in the struggle for
housing in Costa Rica from the late 1970s to the 1980s, focusing on the women
members of the Comité Patriético Nacional (COPAN) (National Patriotic
Committee), the most effective organization in the housing movement. The
study attempts to show the consequences of the housing struggle on (1) gov-
ernment social housing policy, (2) the design and organization of new com-
munities, and (3) the personal and family lives of participating women.

The study divides into four sections. Section I reviews factors that brought
new social movements to Latin America and emphasizes that women have
been centrally involved, even though their presence has been ignored or even
denied. Section II describes the socioeconomic conditions that promoted the
appearance of one such movement, the housing movement in Costa Rica.
Section III examines the growth of the housing movement, its influence on
government housing policy, and the impact of women’s views on the design of
the new communities and on the organization of communal life. Finally,
Section IV addresses the implications of political participation in the housing
movement for women’s personal and family lives.

1. Women, Political Activism, and Social Movements
in Latin America

After the Second World War, the capitalist system underwent a rapid structural
transformation that included the creation of a culture of mass consumption,
the destruction of the traditional social milieu, the break—up of the working
class, an increasing process of individualization, and an accelerated destruc-
tion of environmental resources (Hirsch, 1988). Out of these changes grew new
forms of social and political conflict, particularly during the 1960s and 1970s.
In Central America, the 19605 witnessed the opening wedge of a serious eco-

198

nomic crisis that led to state crises during the 1970s (Torres—Rivas, 1981). Cen-
tral American governments, unable to propose an economic plan in response
to the new conditions, found their credibility threatened (Portantiero, 1981).
Political conditions brought violent changes, among them overt repression
and electoral fraud. Traditional political parties and organizations displayed a
lack of political efficacy to deal with the new social conditions during this criti-
cal period (Falk, 1987). The so-called new social movements, led by women,
students, peasants, and citizens are, then, the concrete ways in which social
subjects organized to face the new conditions, and are an expression of the
complex social dynamics that go beyond mere class conflicts.

Women have been centrally involved in such movements, be they resistance
movements in workplaces and neighborhoods (Ackelsberg, 1988), or urban
movements—particularly housing movements-—in Latin America, a fact often
ignored or denied (Chant, 1987; Moser, 1987a; Vance, 1987). Such denials stem
from the tradition of interpreting social movements and their politics as reflec—
tions of the public, i.e., the masculine, world (Schneider, 1988). Deeming
political activity to be inherently masculine, students of social movements
have neglected the influence of patterns of gender relations, which also shape
processes of social change. During economic crises, for example, gender as
well as class inequalities are likely to increase rather than decline (Edgell and
Duke, 1983).

The failure to see women as social actors has been reinforced by a parallel
tendency, the failure to consider communal activities as political (Schneider,
1988). Political theory in the Western world has identified the public realm
with politics, limited to men, and has identified the private realm with the
home and close community, assigning these areas to women. This ideological
separation has circumscribed the agenda of politics and the range of likely
participants (Ackelsberg, 1988). Yet women, in the role of sustainers of net-
works of human relations inside the community and primary providers for
their families, are potentially the main builders of some new social move-
ments. Caroline Moser (1987b) has estimated that more than 50 percent of
households of the Third World are headed by women; in the specific Costa
Rican communities I studied, that figure rose to 75 percent.

In the Latin American context, researchers have recently become increas-
ingly aware of the political impact of grassroots organizations and, through
them, the political mobilization of women (see for instance, Iaquette, 1991), al-
though much research is still needed to document these processes (Adler Hell-
man, 1992). Empirical studies on the political action of Costa Rican women are

The Struggle for Housing 199

virtually nonexistent, which can be attributed in part to the Marxist tradition,  

which tends to see political events and social movements’ activity as epi-
phenomena resulting from deeper economic forces (Sagot, 1991).

However, because the housing movement concerns matters of daily sur-
vival, it does easily “politicize” the so—called private domain and transform
women into “public” actors. In the light of this reasoning, the remainder of
this study will demonstrate how women have been the main organizers of the
Costa Rican housing movement and how they, through their participation in
the movement, have been transformed into social and political actors.

II. The Costa Rican Socioeconomic Reality

Given Costa Rica’s democratic tradition, the economic crisis of the 1970s did
not provoke a political crisis, yet it did create serious social disarray. One of the
most severely affected areas was housing and its related problems, i.e., access to
basic services like water, electricity, and transportation. By the 1980s the coun-
try faced a deficit of 27o,ooo houses, which means that 61.7 percent of the
population was affected by lack of housing (Sojo, 1988).

The lack of decent housing, above all in urban areas, was a direct conse-
quence of the structural transformation that began in the late 1950s and early
1960s. At that time, Costa Rica experienced a dramatic reduction of its agricul-
tural frontier, a rapid concentration of property, and the first steps in the
industrialization process (Rovira, 1982). Consequently, by the late 1970s and
early 1980s, 30 percent of the general population and 45 percent of the rural
population was living in poverty (FLACSO, 1984; Sojo, 1988).

Historically an agricultural country, Costa Rica faced rapid but uneven
growth of urban areas because of massive migratory flows from rural areas to
major cities, a pattern that continues today. This growth, particularly of met-
ropolitan San Jose, brought serious urban problems like tugurios (squatter
settlements), a dramatic increase in property prices, invasion of nearby agri-
cultural land, indiscriminate urbanization ‘(such as the creation of industries
in residential areas), industrial pollution, and lack of recreational areas—in
sum, a general deterioration of urban life.

The appearance and continuing growth of squatter and shanty settlements
surrounding major Costa Rican cities——such as those of San Jose, Limon, and
Puntarenas—became a serious and major source of social conflict. From the
unsatisfied needs and anger of families in these communities arose a strong
movement for decent housing during the late 1970s. Women and children
constituted approximately 90 percent of this movement.

zoo Montserrat Sagot

III. COPAN’s Housing Movement: Old Tactics and New Solutions

The 1970s in Costa Rica also witnessed an intense ideological debate among
leftist parties (Camacho and Mejivar, 1985). Voters questioned both the politi-
cal line, means, and forms of the struggle and the effectiveness of traditional
leftist organizations. New leftist parties like the Movimiento Revolucionario
del Pueblo (People’s Revolutionary Movement), the Partido Socialista (Social-
ist Party), and the Frente Popular (Popular Front) proposed solutions for
social problems, addressing what they termed the “real needs of the people.”
During this period women members of a new Trotskyite party, the Organiza-
cién Socialista de los Trabajadores (OST) (Socialist Workers’ Organization),
formed the country’s first feminist organization, the Movimiento para la Li-
beracion de la Mujer (MLM) (Women’s Liberation Movement). From this
union COPAN would be born.

MLM began its work in the mid—197os with women from San Iosé’s poorest
communities. In the southern suburbs, the Barrios del Sur, MLM organized
women to fight against a bill that was to prohibit the use of intrauterine
devices (IUD). The bill’s sponsors, some of Costa Rica’s most conservative
political and religious forces, considered the IUD an abortive device. MLM
leaders decided that the best way to fight the bill was to organize those most
directly affected, the IUD users. In the end, the bill was defeated, and MLM
took advantage of its new organization to form the first self—help health groups
in Costa Rica (see Carcedo, Sagot, and Trejos, chap. 3 above; Carcedo, chap. 18
above). During this period of focusing on health issues, MLM members dis-
covered that the most important unsatisfied needs among women from the
poorest communities were housing and related services. People were unhappy
with the alternatives proposed by government agencies, and they expressed a
willingness to form independent housing committees; in response, OST and
MLM began organizing the committees in 1978 in search of a program to
satisfy the needs of the lowest—income people.

The government, through the Instituto Nacional de Vivienda y Urbaniza-
cién (INVU) (National Housing and Urbanization Institute), had proposed a
self—help program called Site and Services, which would provide infrastruc-
ture, land, and materials, and the people would build their own houses. Inter-
national agencies widely accepted this type of program. For example, the
governments of Mexico, Brazil, Ecuador, Kenya, and Sri Lanka had recognized
“self—help” housing as beneficial for a city’s economy because it reduces the
state’s responsibility to provide conventional housing to large working—class
groups in urban areas (Moser, 1987b). Members of early housing committees

The Struggle for Housing 201

found, though, that the Costa Rican government was not carrying out the
program. The first housing committees organized with the goal of obligating
the government to implement the Site and Services program, efficiently, and
on a large scale. ‘

In 1980 MLM founded the Coordinadora Nacional por Vivienda Digna
(National Coordinating Committee for Dignified Housing), an umbrella orga-
nization for all housing committees. By 1981, both the OST and the MLM had
changed names. OST had become the Comité Patriotico Nacional (COPAN),
and MLM, the Centro Feminista de Informacion y Accion (CEFEMINA)
(Feminist Center for Information and Action). By changing their names, the
two organizations acknowledged that they had become grassroots organiza-
tions with more short-term practical goals for political action, i.e., obtaining
decent housing for the poorest strata of the population and general improve-
ment of their daily lives.

A massive presence of women characterized these housing committees.
Men’s participation was neither regular nor reliable. Women consistently con-
stituted nearly 90 percent of the members. It is not surprising that women’s
involvement was more intense. Women spend more time in the house than
men do, and they experience the need for decent housing more directly. Even
with an outside job and a husband or companion, women carry the main
responsibility for activities related to social reproduction—i.e., the satisfaction
of their family’s material and emotional needs. Thus women are more likely to
participate in movements aimed at improving the conditions of their daily
lives.

COPAN and its feminist arm, CEFEMINA, developed a decentralized orga-
nization with housing committees in the most important cities, San Iosé,
Alajuela, Heredia, and Cartago; intermediate “sectorial” or “regional” leader-
ship; and a general coordinating committee, La Direccion, composed of intel-
lectuals and major organizers charged with overseeing the regional committees.

COPAN’s tactics combined legal and illegal forms of political action, such as
staging peaceful demonstrations and hunger strikes, taking over public build-
ings, and constructing barricades to close major streets. The years 1979 to 1983
were characterized not only by rather confrontational forms of COPAN’s po-
litical action but also by a peak in popular movements. The government
response to these popular protests was repressive.

Thereafter, COPAN decided to avoid direct confrontations between women
and children and the police, and it employed other forms of political action. In
1984, four women and five men, all members of housing committees, went on

202 Montserrat Sagot

a hunger strike, demanding a rapid solution to the housing problem. After
eighteen days, the government accepted their demands and signed the first
agreement with COPAN.

In 1985, COPAN made an agreement with Oscar Arias Sanchez, then presi-
dential candidate of the Partido Liberacion Nacional (PLN) (National Libera-
tion Party): COPAN would support him in the 1986 presidential election if he
would commit himself to solving the housing problem. Arias promised to
build eighty thousand houses for the lowest-income people. Housing was
included in the National Development Plan as the “most important unsatisfied
basic need in the country” (MIDEPLAN, 1986, p. 32).

Finally, in 1986 COPAN began building what its members call “new commu-
nities.” Up to 1993, COPAN had been involved in seven construction projects
for a total of more than five thousand houses. This involvement included three
types of work: upgrading projects based totally on self—help; projects in which
the government had urbanized a location and partially built the houses, pro-
viding a “wet core” which future residents finished through self—help; and com-
munities that have been entirely designed and built by the people themselves.

Part of COPAN’s long struggle has been to obtain the right to design and
build houses and communities according to women’s needs. Housing com-
mittees had found that government bureaucrats just wanted to build cheap
houses. The first communities, designed totally and constructed partially by
the government, were expensive, laid out in straight monotonous lines, with
building walls so thin that people had no privacy. The communities also lacked
recreational areas. Women complained that kitchens were too small and that
faucets were too hard to reach, which caused them back pains. They showed
that housing design and settlement layout negatively affected domestic labor
and their daily lives.

Based on these insights, COPAN developed three principles:

1. To earn the right to a house, each inhabitant must participate in a communal self-
help program, and each family has to accumulate a minimum of nine hundred
hours of work on the housing project.

2. COPAN emphasizes the building of whole communities, not individual houses. It
considers houses not only a place to sleep but a place to live, and COPAN therefore
promotes recreation to foster better human communication.

3. In the construction of new communities, COPAN insists on preservation of en-
vironmental resources.

The organization of COPAN’s self—help construction implied an enormous
effort and much creativity. Although members were willing to work, most of

The Struggle for Housing 203

them, particularly women, had no construction skills. Through communal
construction in joint building groups, those who had skills and knowledge
taught and supervised the others. The women soon acquired the necessary
skills and became successful builders.

COPAN also developed a whole support system for the construction proj-
ects, including day-care centers, communal kitchens, warehouse controls, and
temporary shelters. Older women and disabled people staffed these support
centers, and their labor counted toward the nine hundred hours required for
the allocation of a house.

The new communities developed an organizational structure for social
relations. People formed support groups for the unemployed and for battered
women, and committees for prevention of violence against women and chil-
dren, for improving basic services, and for health services. Three communities
even organized their own clinics for women and children, managed by health
committees that promote campaigns against drugs and “for a better life with-
out violence.” Issues like child abuse and domestic violence against women are
no longer private concerns; they are communal matters. When, for example, a
woman leader’s husband abused her, the community threatened to expel him.
\/Vhen he did not desist, the woman threw him out, and the men of the
community escorted him outside of the community’s boundaries.

Although over time, more men have become involved, particularly in con-
struction, women are still overwhelmingly the main participants in commu-
nity activities. In addition to their responsibilities for social reproduction, they
have assumed responsibility for improving their family’s living conditions
through communal activities.

Thus, the presence of women has had a strong impact on community
organization. Women’s issues have become a focus of attention and action, and
women’s needs and ideas have led to specific designs and construction. As
Sonia, a woman leader, says, “The new communities have a woman’s soul”
(Sagot, 1989).  

IV. Effects of Women’s Participation on Their Personal
and Family Lives

Between December 1988 and June 1989, I interviewed sixty women from these
new communities; all sixty acknowledged joining housing committees out of a
sense of desperation over their living conditions and the poor solutions offered
by government agencies (Sagot, 1989). One woman shared these feelings:

204 Montserrat Sagot

I really needed a . . . decent place to live. A house I rented close to a river washed
away in a flood. . . . I went to Instituto Nacional de Vivienda y Urbanizacion
(INVU). They asked for 7,000 colones, just to put me on the waiting list. Then I
went to a housing committee, they asked me for 3,000 colones. I gave them the
money; it was stolen. Finally, I heard about COPAN . . . and discovered that it was
the only group helping us to get a house without asking for money.

Women joined COPAN and the housing movement as part of their struggle
for survival. For the first time in their lives, the women I interviewed had
joined a movement that involved them in attending meetings, participating in
demonstrations, building barricades, and drawing graffiti on the city’s walls to
call attention to their struggle. For the first time, they were becoming visible,
exposing themselves to political hostility and repression.

The women saw these actions as the only way they could obligate their gov-
ernment to pay attention to their demands. They found the activities excit-
ing—an opportunity to break out of the monotony of their daily lives. Because
of their living conditions, they abandoned traditional ideas of “proper” social
roles and engaged in political action, even to the extent of jeopardizing their
personal safety. However, the hope of better housing does not by itself ade-
quately explain why these women continued their fight. They struggled for
years with nothing more than hope because the association provided them the
opportunity of creating bonds with other women. The massive presence of
women, their dense network of social ties, created a sense of common identity,
shared fate, and a strong solidarity group. Participating and discussing their
needs, the women began to recognize that the lack of decent housing was a
social problem. As one interviewee commented, “If you are alone, nobody
pays attention. . . . I had tried for years to get a house all by myself. . . . It was
only through the struggle with all the other people that they paid attention to
us. We were so many . . . finally they had to listen” (Sagot, 1989).

The word struggle has become part of the women’s vocabulary, associated
with collective political action. Their involvement in the struggle for housing
gave them the chance to link their own lives with those of others and to link
issues affecting them and their families with state policy. These linkages created
new collective identities.

The women also faced opposition from their husbands or partners, who did
not approve of the women’s participating in housing committees, and they had
to win the right to go to meetings and become members. Many were actually
abandoned by their male partners when they remained involved with COPAN
despite the men’s opposition. The women also faced opposition from some

The Struggle for Housing 205

The Costa Rican Women’s Movement

male committee members who did not want women to be leaders and orga-
nizers. This became a major issue of discussion at all levels of the organization.
One woman leader described it as follows:

We women had to “infiltrate” COPAN. In an organization with mostly women
members, only a few of us were in leadership positions. We had long discussions in
the directorate about it. Male members were very understanding. But it was not a
matter of “understanding”; it was a matter of COPAN’s power structure, which
reflected the power structure of society. As women quickly began to assume respon-
sibilities, they became leaders. Now most of the main leaders are women (Sagot,

1989).

In fact, during the struggle of the 1980s, the women assumed all the impor-
tant tasks. Few men participated at that stage. However, when construction
began, more men started to show up. Women’s dreams were becoming a
reality, and they wanted to participate. Men’s increasing participation brought
with it the danger that they would control the communities, given their con-
struction skills and physical strength. But joint building groups with similar
tasks for everybody reduced the inequality between women and men. That was
an important factor in women’s empowerment, as they came to see themselves
as capable of doing anything and of controlling their own lives.

However, the time and effort women dedicated to construction work also
was detrimental. They were responsible not only for most of the housework-
and at times for outside jobs—but also for the heavy work of building the
houses. Though many women’s ideas about their role in society have changed,
and many now believe women have a crucial role to play in community de-
velopment or even in the country’s destiny, women’s subordinate position
inside the home has remained virtually unchallenged. Those still living with
husbands or partners have won the right to go to meetings, to participate in
community activities, and even to make some decisions about their personal
lives. However, they are still responsible for all the housework.

Regardless of the problems they still face, the women acknowledge that
their participation in the housing movement has completely changed their
lives and their self-perceptions. Most of them recall feeling worthless, useless,
and isolated, and they describe themselves as shy and quiet before they joined
the movement. Now they not only have discovered their own worth, but they
also perceive themselves as outspoken and capable of facing difficult situations.
They describe themselves as “knowing their way around” bureaucracy. They
feel powerful because nobody from a governmental agency can get away with
lying to them anymore. Finally, the fact that they are now seeing the concrete

206 Montserrat Sagot

results of their long struggle makes them feel like real achievers. That has
completely changed their perspective about what they are capable of doing and
accomplishing in life.

Conclusion

The housing movement has had a strong impact on the social struggles in
Costa Rica’s recent history. It has affected both government social policy and
the lives of the participating women. Though it could be argued that for these
women participation in the struggle for housing has been only an extension of
their traditional roles in the “domestic domain,” this participation did change
them. They acquired new perceptions of themselves, new attitudes about their
abilities, and new roles in formerly male—dominated activities. All of these
constituted important steps in their empowerment.

Furthermore, these women recognize that issues they formerly considered
private or individual were instead social problems. Through their community
activism, women politicized the private domain, became visible through polit-
ical action, and transformed themselves into conscious political actors. Wom-
en’s new community activism—using realities as a starting point for political
action and moving formerly private issues into the political arena—allowed
them to build collective identities.

Moreover, women members of housing committees, with their commit-
ment, discipline, and efficient organization, created a gender—conscious move-
ment that influenced the design of communities and focused on specific issues
of concern to women. They linked their individual lives to those of other
women, their own families to other families, and their access to resources to
government policy. For the women of the housing committees, everyday life
became the basis for political work and personal transformation, which made
them social and political actors.

Biodata

Montserrat Sagot is also a co—author of “Improving the Quality of Women’s Daily
Lives,” which appears earlier in this Reader (Carcedo, Sagot, and Trejos, chap. 3) and
carries her biodata.

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Sagot, Montserrat. 1989. Sixty Women’s Oral Communications. Unedited, unpub-
lished.

—. 1991. “Women, Political Activism, and Housing: The Case of Costa Rica.” Ph.D.
dissertation, Department of Sociology, The American University.

Schneider, Beth. 1988. “Political Generations and the Contemporary Women’s Move-
ment.” Sociological Inquiry 58, no. 1 (Winter): 421.

Sojo, Ana. 1988. Morfologia de la politica estatal en Costa Rica y crisis economica. San José,
Costa Rica: Universidad de Costa Rica, Instituto de Investigaciones Econémicas.
Torres-Rivas, Edelberto. 1981. “La nacionz Problemas teoricos e historicos.” In Norbert

Lechner, ed., Estado y politica en América Latina, pp. 71-107. Mexico: Siglo 21.

Vance, Irene. 1987. “More than Bricks and Mortar: Women’s Participation in Self-
help Housing in Managua, Nicaragua.” In Caroline Moser and Linda Peake, eds.,
Women, Human Settlements, and Housing, pp. 139-65. London: Tavistock.

208 Montserrat Sagot

Acknowledgments

The study is part of a Ph.D. dissertation in sociology written while the author was at
The American University. It is based on more than five years of personal involvement
with COPAN and CEFEMINA and on six months of extensive field work, from Decem-
ber 1988 to Iune 1989. The United States Agency for International Development (AID)
provided the resources for tuition and expenses during coursework and the Writing of
this study.

The Struggle for Housing 209

23 =2€= Long-Term Survival of a Costa
Rican Women’s Crafts Cooperative

Approaches to Problems of Rapid Growth at
CASEM in the Santa Elena—Monteverde Region

Ilse Abshagen Leitinger

The history of the Comision (originally Comité) de Artesanos de Santa Elena-
Monteverde (CASEM) (Artisans’ Commission of Santa Elena—Monteverde)
represents a ten—year process in which women in a remote rural setting of
Costa Rica, struggling to improve their lives, joined together in a crafts cooper-
ative and transformed it into a flourishing enterprise. They went through good
and bad periods and had some lucky breaks, but—more important—they were
remarkably persistent.

In what follows, I describe the historical and socioeconomic setting within
which CASEM developed, and I record the interplay of relevant factors, focus-
ing on six major themes:

1. The cooperative’s beginning and growth;

2. Its evolving institutional format and affiliation with the multiple-service coopera-
tive CoopeSanta Elena;

3. Its struggle to ensure high—quality production in sufficient quantities;

4. Organizational trouble shooting;

5. CASEM’s social mission of empowering women—-both its members and, increas-
ingly, other women in the community;

6. The leadership’s planning for the mid—term future and CASEM’s emergence as a
community force.

Weighing the individual factors of this process, I offer some conclusions on the
sources of CASEM’s success.

The Santa Elena-Monteverde Region in the Twentieth Century: The
Rise of Diverse Economic Interests and a Multicultural Community

The greater Santa Elena—Monteverde region stretches in a northwest—southeast
direction along the mountain range called the Cordillera de Tilarén that di-

210

vides Pacific Costa Rica from Atlantic Costa Rica. Inhabited areas lie at alti-
tudes from roughly 2,300 to 4,800 feet, with peaks rising above 6,000 feet
(Rodriguez M., n.d.).

The altitude moderates the tropical temperatures. The region’s climate di-
vides into a dry season and a wet season. The dry season—November through
April——is characterized by high winds and flying dust in areas where land is no
longer forested, but with a beautiful View over the terrain sloping down to the
Gulf of Nicoya and over the distant mountains of the Nicoya Peninsula. The
rainy season—May through October——is marked by intermittent downpours,
dramatically low, fast-moving clouds, and spectacular rainbows, when you
rarely see Gulf or mountains but can savor the fresh fragrance of the lush green
slopes that give Monteverde its name. Santa Elena is an agricultural center;
Monteverde is best known for its Cloud Forest, a private virgin—forest reserve,
but there is more to the region than that.

During the early twentieth century, the area was still isolated, forested, and
sparsely populated, with logging and hunting activities supplementing subsis-
tence agriculture. Adding to the isolation was the fact that the region cut across
several administrative districts but remained far from their respective centers
(Rodriguez M., n.d.).

In about 1915 or 1916, a few people hacked their way through the forest from
the Guanacaste lowlands to what later became the town of Santa Elena, but
after exploring the area, they did not stay. In the late 1920s, local subsistence
farmers built liquor stills, using the remote place as a safe haven for their illegal
activities. In the early 1930s, the first colonists came from the village of Guaci-
mal and founded Santa Elena. Around 1930 to 1935, a man named Lindor lived
in Lindora, a ribbonlike village along the upper stretch of the access road that
branches from the Pan—American highway (Rodriguez M., n.d.). In 1951, a
group of twelve Quakers arrived from the United States (Trostle, 1991a). Hav-
ing left the United States to avoid the Korean War draft, they settled in Costa
Rica, which by then was a democracy without a military. They bought a
considerable tract of land to the southeast of Santa Elena, founded the Mon-
teverde community, and decided on dairying for economic survival.

Three major economic activities developed. The first was cattle raising.
Farmers in the area already had begun to raise cattle, using open land or
cutting forests to expand pastures. The Quakers in 1953 created Productores de
Monteverde, the lecheria, or cheese plant, thereby encouraging a shift from
beef to dairy cattle,‘ which allowed farmers to develop today’s principal enter-
prise (Trostle, 1991a). The second economic activity stemmed from the Quak-
ers’ landholding, which included a sizable piece of virgin forest that had been

Long- Term Survival of a Women’s Crafts Cooperative 211

set aside to protect the water supply. Increasing danger of invasion by squatters
led the Quakers to create the protected Reserva del Bosque Nuboso Mon-
teverde (Monteverde Cloud Forest Reserve) in the early 1970s (Guindon, 1991;
Trostle, 1991a). The reserve began to attract tropical biologists wanting to do
research and, through them, growing numbers of people became interested in
conservation. As the Cloud Forest Reserve attracted nature lovers interested in
the forest’s flora and fauna, the third economic activity began—today’s inter-

national tourist industry, providing seasonal and year-round jobs through

construction and maintenance work, multiple tourist services, and the ar-
tisans’ production we are exploring in this article.

The most common occupations in the early years were dairy cattle raising,
agriculture, and unskilled labor. Analyst Carmen Rodriguez (1992), reported
92 percent of the farms as owner occupied in 1973. Under commercial enter-
prises for that time, she mentioned two sawmills, two general stores, one hard-
ware store, one grocery store, five bars, two dance halls, four fonda-hoteles
(inns), one hotel, and two butcher shops. In 1980, Santa Elena, Cerro Plano,
Monteverde, and outlying communities had eleven elementary schools with
900 students, according to Rodriguez. The Colegio Agro-Pecuario, Santa
Elena’s agriculturally-oriented technical high school dating from 1977, had 105
students. The total population of the region numbered approximately 1,600.

In the 1970s, the lecheria was the most important business in the area.
Farmers delivered their milk to it daily and depended on its successful opera-
tion for a major part of their livelihood. In time, however, overgrazing on the
steep slopes reduced soil fertility and brought serious erosion. The dairy in-
dustry faced increasingly less favorable conditions, requiring costly manage-
ment. Today, milk production has shifted to outlying areas, moving as far as
twenty miles away, to the so-called milk shed. Farmers in the original Mon-
teverde area have begun to focus more on tourist-oriented activities (Stuckey,
1991). The lecheria does not want to expand operations beyond its current milk
suppliers, but it is interested in increasing high-quality milk production by
improving output per unit of land. It supports activities designed to coun-
teract erosion and to stabilize pastures, and it aims at increased production
through environmentally sound management, quality control, and efficiency
at the plant (Vargas L., I. L., 1991).

The conservation movement and tourism, and to some extent the dairy
industry, have been responsible for integrating the Santa Elena—Monteverde
region into national and international networks of governmental and non-
governmental institutions and organizations, such as the Costa Rican minis-

212 Ilse Abshagen Leitinger

tries of education, agriculture, and public works; the World Wildlife Fund; the
Nature Conservancy; the Canadian Development Agency; the Inter—American
Foundation; and countless tourist enterprises.

By the early 1980s, diverse interest groups had established a number of
community organizations with contradictory goals. Among them were the
Cooperativa Multiple Santa Elena, a multiple-service cooperative dating from
1971 (Vargas L., C. A., 1991); the Reserva del Bosque Nuboso Monteverde,
managed since 1972-73 by the Centro Cientifico Tropical (Tropical Science
Center) in San Jose (Guindon, 1991); the Asociacion Conservacionista de
Monteverde (Monteverde Conservation League), popularly La Liga, created in
1985-86 to preserve Pacific slope forests and ensure sustainable development
of the region (LaVal, 1991; the Instituto Monteverde (Monteverde Institute),
established in 1987 to carry out environmental education (Trostle, 1991b); the
Camara de Turismo ([Monteverde] Chamber of Tourism) to represent tourist
business interests; and several local development associations (Stuckey, 1988)
that attest to the people’s “strong sense of overcoming difficulties and organiz-
ing themselves” (Rodriguez M., n.d.). Of growing importance has been the
Plan de Desarrollo Integral Monteverde 2020 (Plan for Integrated Develop-
ment of the Monteverde Region by the Year 2020), commonly known as MV
2020, an umbrella organization to negotiate community—wide decisions for
maintaining the quality of life and making development truly sustainable
(Plan de Desarrollo Integral Monteverde 2020, 1989).

Finally, over the last few decades, the Santa Elena—Monteverde region has
become a multicultural community, although Costa Ricans remain in the ma-
jority (Rodriguez M., n.d.). Besides the Quakers, other non—Costa Rican resi-
dents of the region include retired U.S. couples who alternate between homes
in Monteverde and the United States, scientists or professionals working for
environmental and other community organizations, Canadians, Europeans,
and various Central Americans. Although still mostly Roman Catholic, several
communities have established fundamentalist Protestant churches of the Jeho-
vah’s Witnesses, Seventh Day Adventists, and Evangélicos, the Church of God
(Stuckey, 1988). Current estimates put the region’s population at three thou-
sand. The international element extends into the larger community through
educational institutions. The Quakers support a Friends’ School with bilingual
education, and in 1991 the Centro de Educacion Creativa (Creative Learning
Center), popularly Centro Creativo, began operating a bilingual school for
residents who want their children to learn English to improve their occupa-
tional chances.

Long- Term Survival of a Women’s Crafts Cooperative 213

Thus, in about half a century, people in the formerly isolated region have
been integrated into national and international networks that have had wide
repercussions. These networks have also had a remarkable impact on women.

The Beginning and Growth of CASEM

In the mid—197os, when these trends were becoming apparent, dairy plant
officials thought it unhealthy for dairying to be the only major business.
Knowing that dairying could threaten the environment and that it alone would
not ensure the economic health of outlying communities, they began to look
for other sources of income (VanDusen, July 15, 1992, pers. comm.). At the
same time, the Central American economic crisis of the late 1970s was causing
single-income families to lose their former standard of living.

The dairy plant encouraged a study to explore economic diversification for
local farmers and craftsmen and to search for income—generating options for
women. The CoopeSanta Elena (CoopeSE), itself in a refocusing phase (Vargas
L., C. A., 1991), carried out the study with funding from the Inter—American
Foundation (IAF) and the Canadian embassy (Vargas L., C. A., July 14, 1992,
pers. comm.). Two anthropologists assisted by a local dairy plant employee-
all women—did the study.

As the researchers visited the caserios, the small outlying communities, they
explored options for economic diversification—forestry or fruit tree nurseries,
or collection and storage centers for agricultural products (VanDusen, July 15,
1992, pers. comm.). They noticed that everywhere they went, women were
producing a variety of handicrafts. The researchers inquired if the women
would like to organize a fair to sell their creations. About thirty women sup-
ported the idea. With funding from CoopeSE and IAF, the fair was held during
Easter week of 1982, at the Pension Quetzal in Monteverde (Jimenez, 1991); it
offered a medley of wares for sale, such as doilies, embroideries, pressed—flower
cards, and more.

The fair was a success. Eight women who even before the fair had been
working together decided they would seriously begin crafts production, and
the organization slowly took shape. They received small loans from CoopeSE
and IAF for setting up both a shop and an office (Vargas L., C. A., July 15, 1992,
pers. comm.), and other women’s cooperatives offered advice on operations
and merchandizing (Jimenez, July 14, 1992, pers. comm.; Rodriguez, July 15,
1992, pers. comm.).

At first, the women exhibited and sold in the house of Patricia Jimenez, one

214 Ilse Abshagen Leitinger

of their members who ran a second-hand-clothing store, “Artemas” (meaning
“art and then some”), out of her kitchen in Santa Elena. They simply added
their crafts to the wares in the store. Patricia’s husband, a guide in the Cloud
Forest Reserve, brought tourists looking for souvenirs. One of them, Jean
Andrews, an artist from Texas, was to have a major influence upon CASEM’s
growth in later years; she returned frequently with materials, stayed to teach
art and design, and helped with outside funding (Iiménez, July 14, 1992, pers.
comm.).

As the operation flourished, more women joined, and the initial infor-
mality had to give way to increasing formality. In cooperation with their
adviser from CoopeSE, business manager Carlos Vargas, the women developed
an organizational structure and began to keep a written record in successive
Libros de Actas (LA), official record books, that reflect discussions and deci-
sions made in general assemblies and executive committee meetings (Libro de
Actas, 1 to 6 [1982—84 to 1991—92] ). The first Libro de Actas (LA) begins in late
May 1982. From then on, the records give a detailed picture of the organiza-
tion’s successes, concerns, and problems—not the least of which was learning
to keep adequate financial accounts (see, e.g., LA, 1 [October 6, 1982, February
25, 1983] and 2 [June 1985]). In July 1982, the women named their enterprise
Comité de Artesanos de Santa Elena y Monteverde (CASEM), the Santa Elena
and Monteverde Artisans’ Committee. Later, “Comité” changed to “Comi-
sion,” but it remained CASEM, the name by which it is known everywhere.

Patricia’s kitchen soon became too small. CoopeSE offered CASEM space in
its Santa Elena office, but even before moving there in 1984 (Iiménez, 1991) the
artisans had begun to talk about establishing a CASEM store in Monteverde,
closer to the reserve, where tourists would find shopping easier (LA, 1 [March
25, 1983]). In 1986, CoopeSE made available a space in its Monteverde building.
The new location immediately led to more sales (LA, 2 [May 1986]). By mid-
1986, CASEM members were seriously considering building their own store,
and by late 1986, they were planning the details (see, e.g., LA, 2 [October 1986]
and 3 [December 1986] ). It became a joint undertaking: CoopeSE made avail-
able the land, the Monteverde community provided sand and gravel, the le-
cheria donated paint, and Jean Andrews transmitted via the Episcopal Church
a U.S. donation of $10,000. (This transmission by way of a religious institution
permitted the donation to remain tax free.)

Not everything went smoothly, however. The Canadian Development
Agency rejected CASEM’s application for funds, arguing lack of promise for
economic success in this women’s enterprise (Jimenez, July 14, 1992, pers.

Long- Term Survival of a Women’s Crafts Cooperative 215


comm.; Vargas L., C. A., July 14, 1992, pers. comm.). Nonetheless, the women
persisted. Many donated time to clean the land in preparation for construc-
tion. Husbands contributed physical labor, and the artisans raised the percent-
age of their sales that they contributed to the cooperative’s operating fund
from 10 to 15 percent (Iiménez, Iuly 14, 1992, pers. comm.).

Finally, in 1987, CASEM moved into the building it currently operates.
Again, in keeping with the pattern, CASEM discussions already center on
enlarging facilities “or building additional ones to keep pace with growth and
product diversification. Past improvements included restructuring the use of
the building to provide better customer access; moving storage space for mate-
rials away from the sales area so as to channel deliveries to artisans away from
tourist traffic; and replacing the wooden entrance door with wide glass panels
to allow tourists a view of the exhibits even when the store is closed (LA, 4
[December 1, 1991]). Leaders are now exploring the possibility of further im-
proving conditions for artisans by providing a lunchroom, restrooms, and, in
the future, child—care facilities (LA, 6 [June 2, 1992]). They also are planning to
construct additional work space for some new production processes used in
the CASEM workshop.

During this time, CASEM experienced not only a consistent rise in produc-
tion and sales but also a substantial increase in members. From 8 members in
1982, membership grew to 50 when CASEM moved to the CoopeSE building in
Santa Elena in 1984 (CSE, Departamento de Artesania, 1992). By the time of the
transfer to Monteverde, the count stood at 73, and when CASEM moved into
its own building, membership exceeded 80 (Iiménez, 1991). As of this writing,
the count is near 150. At almost regular intervals, CASEM has had to fix new
upper limits on membership—1oo artisans in 1990, 125 in 1991, and 150 in 1992

(Vargas L., C. A., July 14, 1992, pers. comm.). These figures are surprising when  

one considers that throughout these years, the Libros de Actas reflect a contin-
uous turnover in membership.

CASEM’s Institutional Format and Affiliation with CoopeSE

The history of CASEM would be incomplete without a discussion of its rela-
tionship with CoopeSE. Initially, CASEM gladly accepted CoopeSE’s support
and advice on how to administer the enterprise, and Carlos A. Vargas L.,
CoopeSE’s business manager, also helped manage CASEM. Most women had
no experience with running a business, in fact, most had no experience with
any work outside the home. The local economy had always offered jobs for

216 Ilse Abshagen Leitinger

cash only to men, and most men thought that was as it should be. However, as
Costa Rica’s currency, the colon, lost value through inflation, many men wel-
comed their wives’ economic contribution. Yet, even though women wanted
to work for an income, they felt uncertain; they therefore appreciated the
group support. Thus, when CoopeSE introduced them to the mechanics of a
cooperative enterprise that met their needs perfectly, they readily decided on a
cooperative format for their crafts-producing enterprise as well (Vargas L.,
C. A., July 14, 1992, pers. comm.).

In successive deliberations, the women refined the objectives for CASEM.
They decided it should offer employment opportunities for women; offer its
members training in production and diversification of crafts; and, most im-
portant, offer the members an overall understanding of business operations
(LA, 1 [October 6, 1982]). For CASEM’s leaders, another crucial (though less
formalized) objective was that this experience would lead to women’s empow-
erment by providing the women with mutual support, a social meeting place,
and an outlet for their creativity, thereby enhancing their self-confidence and
decision—making ability (LA, 4 [October 21, 1988]; Rodriguez, July 15, 1992,
pers. comm.). Meanwhile, the cooperative structure would help spread the
economic risks.

As for women’s empowerment, the documents establishing CASEM speak
simply of “economic and social improvement” of artisans’ families (CSE,
n.d.[a]; 1987 n.d.[b]), with leaders consistently emphasizing that the social
goal is as important as the economic one (see, e.g., LA, 4 [October 27, 1988];
Jiménez, July 14, 1992, pers. comm.; Lobo, July 17, 1992, pers. comm.; Rodri-
guez, July 15, 1992, pers. comm.).

To support the cooperative infrastructure, members contribute part of their
earnings for maintenance and the purchase of raw materials. After various
changes in the early years (LA, 1 [October 6, 1982] J, membership and financing
rules evolved (Jimenez, July 14, 1992, pers. comm.; Vargas L., C. A., 1987):
Members now must live in the region, know some craft, participate in the
general assemblies of CASEM, and sell only through CASEM. Each month,
members are required to produce six items of their choice and to deliver those
items in person to obtain an evaluation of quality and design. Members do
their own pricing, incorporating the cost of materials, the cost of their labor,
their contribution to the operation of CASEM and of CoopeSE, and their own
profit. They receive their earnings only after their product has sold; if it has not
sold after nine months, they must either take it back and upgrade it or with-
draw it from the store. Such rules ensure that the artisans will have a say over

Long- Term Survival of a Women’s Crafts Cooperative 217

what they produce. This is important because “artisans don’t want to be told
what to produce, because ‘nos estamos dando el gusto’—we enjoy what we are
doing” (Lobo, July 17, 1992, pers. comm.).

Currently, artisans receive 65 percent of a given price for an item; 25 percent
goes to CASEM for infrastructure, full—time employee costs, and CASEM’s
contribution to CoopeSE. The remaining 10 percent—the capital social—is a
tithe that goes into a short—term fund for operating expenses Where it earns no
interest. CASEM uses these funds to buy material for sale to artisans or to
provide loans with interest to the Savings and Loans part of CoopeSE. When
artisans leave CASEM, they can withdraw their accumulated capital social.

If at year’s end, CASEM shows an operating-fund surplus, the organization
must decide how to use it. Initially, surplus money was invested at interest in
CoopeSE’s Savings and Loans operation. More recently, and particularly when
the surplus has become rather sizable, the general assembly has paid out such
gains to members, proportionate to each artisan’s sales during the year (CSE,
Departamento de Artesania, 1992). Some regard these payments as a weakness,
concerned that they may deflect members’ attention from social benefits to fi-
nancial ones. As one Woman said, “CASEM must insist on members’ commit-
ment to the group. . . . It must train for group spirit, responsibility, decision
making, self esteem . . . [and] remain an educational institution” (Rodriguez,
July 15, 1992, pers. comm.). Others welcome the distribution, since the artisans’
savings were losing value through inflation (Salazar, July 18, 1992, pers. comm. ).

In 1987, with CASEM a successful operation, CoopeSE suggested that the
organization either become a full member of CoopeSE or operate indepen-
dently. A hard decision! Many members spoke for affiliation, and many others
warned against it. The document “gCon la Coope? 50 sin ella?” (With the
Coop? Or without it?) summarized arguments for and against, reflecting the
agonizing negotiations (Anonymous, n.d.[a]). It also detailed the members’
decision—to join formally with CoopeSE. Reasons in favor of joining included
CASEM’s savings in administrative expenses, the benefit of belonging to a
legally established organization, the reputation and administrative expertise of
CoopeSE, the social benefits of membership (e.g., right to training, loans, and
household purchases), and the contribution CASEM could make to the well-
being of CoopeSE, to which it felt deeply indebted. Today, CASEM is the “most
consolidated, the strongest member” of CoopeSE (Anonymous, n.d.[b]). It
earns 40 percent of CoopeSE’s income, thereby paying 40 percent of the coop-
erative’s administrative expenses. By comparison, the commercial services op-
eration accounts for 45 percent, the coffee production unit of CoopeSE for 10

218 Ilse Abshagen Leitinger

percent, and the savings and loan operation for 5 percent (Vargas L., C. A.,
July 15, 1992, pers. comm.).

Ensuring Adequate Crafts Production

CASEM’s most difficult daily challenge is maintaining adequate production, in
quality as well as quantity. Various policies focus on this problem, including
frequent training courses to foster artisans’ environmental awareness and en-
hance originality of design, measures for quality control, constant efforts to-
ward product diversification, the establishment of a workshop at the store site,
and successful marketing to take into account the newly arising competition in
the Santa Elena-Monteverde region.

Design Courses

The challenge of ensuring sufficient production is magnified by the uninter-
rupted growth in the number of artisans in need of training, their constant
turnover, and their special household obligations (Baum, 1990; Hoffschmidt,
1990). Moreover, the typical seasonal business cycle affects production. The
peak of production should occur before the December—to—April high season of
tourism, but that is also the period when artisans earn least and yet must invest
most in buying raw materials.

From the beginning, training for artisans has been one of the leaders’ major
concerns, for which they obtained extensive support. Such training was orig-
inally offered by qualified CASEM artisans or by nonaffiliated community
members, several of them Quakers who had particular artistic skills and served
largely on a volunteer basis. They also taught problem solving, conflict resolu-
tion, and other socially relevant topics to advance CASEM’s social goals. Some
community women volunteered such services for many years and had a for-
mative artistic influence on crafts production (Rodriguez, July 15, 1992, pers.
comm.). With their help, rural artisans improved skills they already pos-
sessed—for instance, embroidery—or learned new skills, such as painting on
cloth or elaborating their own designs (Jimenez, July 14, 1992, pers. comm.).

Originally, the Cloud Forest’s flora and fauna provided the subject matter
for all craftwork. Lately, the theme of sustainable development has also in-
spired many designs. CASEM acquired reproductions in which colors and
shapes were true to nature (see, e.g., LA, 1 [August 1984]) and it allowed
artisans to copy patterns of popular designs (LA, 1 [May 13, 1983]). As a matter
of principle, however, CASEM designs cannot be reproduced outside the co-

Long- Term Survival of a Women’s Crafts Cooperative

219

operative. According to the rules, each artisan may decide what item she will
produce and how she will design it. CASEM therefore does not dictate produc-
tion; leaders do, however, encourage artisans to produce items that sell well.
From the mid—198os on, the artist Jean Andrews returned many times. She
brought materials and offered classes on art, design, or the functionality of
products.

CASEM recently contracted with outside professionals to teach design. With
growing artistic sophistication, artisans have gone beyond mere reproduction
of nature to allow imagination and stylizing a role in their designs, thus achiev-
ing creations of art inspired by nature, in what some have called a characteristic
“estilo Monteverde” (VanDusen, July 15, 1992, pers. comm.). These creations
brought greater satisfaction to the artisans and better sales (CSE, Departa-
mento de Artesania, 1992; Rodriguez, July 15, 1992, pers. comm.; VanDusen,
July 15, 1992, pers. comm.). They also emphasized environmental conservation,
thereby serving all goals of the organization (CSE, n.d. [a]; n.d. [b] ).

Quality Control

All Libros de Actas reflect the consultants’ urging to maintain high quality.
They also support the rules that artisans must deliver their products in per-
son so that they can consult with the shop manager about quality, and that
they will receive payment only after their products have been sold. Early on,
CASEM established an Evaluation Committee to assess quality (LA, 1 [Octo-
ber 6, 1982]), and CASEM’s courses also address the issue of quality produc-
tion. Today’s leaders refer to quality control as one of their principal objectives
(Jimenez, July 14, 1992, pers. comm.; Salazar, July 18, 1992, pers. comm.; Van-
Dusen, July 15, 1992, pers. comm.). In that context, they even confront tech-
nological issues, such as sewing machine repair (LA, 6 [June 3, 1991]), optimal
quality of available electricity to ensure efficient machine operation (LA, 6
[April 3, 1991] ), and overall streamlining of operations (LA, 6 [July 10, 1991]).

Product Diversification

Training not only emphasizes quality but also encourages product diversifica-
tion, either through changes in the design of a popular item or through the use
of entirely different materials, such as natural fibers, wood, paper maché, or
ceramics (LA, 6 [September 2, 1991]; VanDusen, July 15, 1992, pers. comm.;
Vargas L., C.A., July 14, 1992, pers. comm.). Some observers have suggested
further steps. A visiting Peace Corps volunteer spoke of printing shirts instead
of embroidering or painting them, and she discussed working with ceramics

22o Ilse Abshagen Leitinger

(LA, 6 [September 2, 1991] ). Art teachers Carlos Jiménez and Carolina Barrien-
tos suggested introducing a folk art section in CASEM (LA, 6 [November 4,
1991] ). They offered to teach a course on gourd preparation (LA, 6 [February 3,
1992]). Still, stand-by items, such as painted T—shirts, embroidered or painted
blouses or skirts, reversible jackets with designs on both sides, earrings, neck-
laces, painted cards, letter paper, table cloths, potholders, wall hangings, and
woven belts continue to be big money makers.

I have returned to CASEM at regular intervals over the last few years,
and on almost every visit I have noted new products or new designs on dis-
play. Wooden crafts produced by the few male and some women members of
CASEM, paper maché or stuffed animal toys have become popular offerings.

The Workshop

In ‘response to the increasing demand for several popular items, CASEM lead-
ers decided in 1985 to establish a workshop (LA, 2 [November 1985]). Today,
the workshop is staffed by three full-time employees and a full-time super-
visor, who earn a regular salary but do not receive capital social. The workshop
uses the same pricing mechanism used by the independent artisans, so it also
contributes to the overall operating fund. At times, workshop workers do
receive bonuses from the yearly surplus (LA, 6 [December 23, 1991]). Cur-
rently, shop earnings pay the training costs for all artisans (Vargas L., C. A.,
July 15, 1992, pers. comm.). In addition to the full-time employees, twelve
artisans work for the shop at home and are paid according to the number of
items they complete. Artisans’ personal designs cannot be used in the work-
shop, nor may the artisans working at home employ workshop designs except
under contract by the workshop. Since its beginning, the workshop has consis-
tently accounted for 30 percent of the sales at CASEM (Vargas L., C. A., July 15,
1992, pers. comm.).

Marketing

“CASEM has never had to worry about a market; that makes planning for
proper marketing difficult,” said Carlos Vargas (July 15, 1992, pers. comm.).
However, several competing enterprises have recently sprung up in the region,
e.g., the Hummingbird Gallery near the entrance to the Cloud Forest, the
Butterfly Garden and La Galeria in Monteverde, shops at local hotels, a shop in
Cerro Plano, and one next to the popular restaurant El Trapiche in Cafiitas,
four kilometers west of Santa Elena (Jimenez, August 26, 1992, pers. comm.).
Consequently, CASEM leaders have taken steps to enhance marketing: As

Long— Term Survival of a Women’s Crafts Cooperative 221 6

noted earlier, one of these steps is making better use of space in the CASEM
store through separating the traffic of tourists from that of artisans (LA, 6
[January 12, 1991] ). Another is the annual gift of a T-shirt, featuring a design
not to be reproduced that year, to guides in the Cloud Forest, hoping the
walking advertisement will encourage tourists to visit CASEM where the shirts
were created (Huertas, July 15, 1992, pers. comm.; LA, 6 [June 3, 1991]; LA, 6
[July 1, 1991] ). Further anticipated steps include adding new products, such as
a calendar featuring Cloud Forest designs; improving presentation through
more informative, better designed product labels (LA, 5 [May 8, 1990], 6
[January 12; July 1, 1991] ); and creating attractive fliers with information about
CASEM (LA, 6 [January 12, 1991]).

CASEM has also considered marketing nationally, should fewer tourists
visit the Cloud Forest. Possible options include selling in other Costa Rican
locations, such as San José hotels, the international airport, and the beaches
(LA, 6 [October 7, 1991]), or selling to local customers. Such changes are not
easy. Right now, the volume of production does not justify seriously consider-
ing these options; moreover, most local customers cannot afford the prices
CASEM must charge. The recent addition of a serigraphy machine for printing
substantially less expensive shirts may be a way of approaching the national
market (LA, 6 [December 3, 1991; January 25, 1992; June 10, 1992] ).

Finally, CASEM has been exploring options for export, especially to the
United States, either through outlet stores—the owners of one such store
in Boulder, Colorado, visited CASEM as tourists (LA, 6 [May 2, 1992])—or
through a mail order catalog (LA, 6 [December 1, 1991]). Plans for such a
catalog are still on the drawing board. fl

Clearly, diversified marketing requires greater production. To encourage
that, CASEM in the last few years has carried out a design competition with
cash prizes for the best designs (LA, 6 [July 1; October 7, 1991; February 3,
1992] ). Much remains to be done on this issue. ‘

Organizational Trouble Shooting

Despite its successes, the CASEM operation has not been trouble—free. Some
problems relate to logistics and CASEM’s rapid growth; others are human
and attributable to inadequate communications or the nature of cooperative
enterprises.

Given the steady turnover of artisans, executive committee meetings must
constantly consider membership applications and withdrawals. In 1990, thirty-

222 Ilse Abshagen Leitinger

six new members joined and twelve withdrew (Gomez and Vargas L., 1991). In
1991 forty-seven new memberships and fourteen withdrawals were recorded
(Gomez and Vargas L., 1992). Thus, in two years, withdrawals equalled nearly
one—third of new memberships. Obviously, resources devoted to training peo-
ple who soon will leave the organization contribute to CASEM’s goal of im-
proving women’s lives, but they don’t advance its business interests.

Another quandary is that many artisans who most need to earn money do
not even produce the required monthly items, let alone increase their produc-
tion. Alisa Baum (1990) and Kristin Hoffschmidt (1990) identified the follow-
ing possible causes of low productivity:

1. The artisans’ difficult working conditions, such as inadequate work space and large
family obligations;

2. Women’s traditional perception of craftwork as recreation, not as work that merits
an income;

3. Women’s tendency to think neither in terms of a cash economy nor of their own
labor as deserving financial reward.

Baum and Hoffschmidt suggested improving the physical work space or
other home working conditions. CASEM has made an excellent effort to mod-
ify artisans’ homes through providing construction funds for attachments or
structural changes (see, e.g., LA, 6 [January 12; May 6; August 5; August 31;
October 7, 1991]). Recently, this policy was somewhat curtailed by limited
funds. Nonetheless, fifteen artisans, slightly over 10 percent of all members, did
benefit from work-space improvement.

One attempt to help low producers think in terms of money management
has been the course “How to Earn Money with CASEM.” It taught proper
organization for production and basic accounting principles (LA, 6 [May 24,
1991]). The course is not given regularly, but leaders have recently integrated
the material into the crafts courses the cooperative offers in many villages.

Other organizational problems are not so easily addressed. Several artisans
sold items to the competition at other crafts stores or they independently sold
items they had made with material bought from CASEM (see, e.g., LA, 5
[January 22, 1990] ). CASEM does not want to curtail competition, but to keep
its operation intact it has to enforce its rules among members (Salazar, July 18,
1992, pers. comm.).

Communications is another troublesome area. In such a large group, mis-
interpretations of information and personality clashes unavoidably occur. Yet,
CASEM leaders have built on their conflict—resolution training, and have met

Long- Term Survival of a Women’s Crafts Cooperative 223

criticism openly. For instance, after an anonymous group complaint that
CASEM operated in favor of “insiders” at the expense of “outsiders,” leaders
invited all members feeling any discontent to an open discussion session (LA, 6
[February 5; February 22, 1991). Unfortunately, only three artisans attended.
The leaders may take comfort in knowing that they are dealing with a charac-
teristic phenomenon of Costa Rican culture. CASEM’s women exemplify what
observers have identified as the desire of all Ticos to “quedar bien” (to get
along, appear amiable) (Biesanz, Biesanz, and Biesanz, 1982: 11-12) and the
“pervasive national tendency to avoid conflict and extremes of violent con-
frontation” (See Leitinger, Introduction).

CASEM leaders also acknowledge a social reason for misunderstandings: As
a rule, most leaders have more education, better access to the outside world,
and more varied experiences than most of the dissatisfied women artisans. The
latter tend to live in isolated places and to be tied down by family constraints,
easily feel discriminated against, and lack the leaders’ self—esteem. They are
unable to take advantage of options for training or participating in meetings
or excursions and, with limited education, have difficulty understanding the
complexities of accounting and the underlying principles of management in
the cooperative. CASEM recognizes this problem and tries to improve com-
munications with outlying areas, where transportation is essential if women
are to connect to others. “Availability of family transportation is crucial to
women’s participation in employment,” commented a woman from an outly-
ing village (Lobo, July 17, 1992, pers. comm.).

Given membership turnover and constant growth, communication will
continue to challenge CASEM leaders. “\/Vhen we were twenty, we felt very
close and had time to talk about everything,” a founding member observed,
“but now that the organization has become so big, there doesn’t seem time for
it” (Salazar, July 18, 1992, pers. comm.). Moreover, despite offering training for
management and accounting, CASEM wants to avoid the image that its mem-
bers are working exclusively for economic gain. Its leadership remains deeply
committed to the organization’s social mission.

The Social Mission of CASEM: Women’s Empowerment

As stated earlier, in the view of its leaders, one of the most significant results of
CASEM’s operation has been the social effect of offering women options for
income generation, training, education, and, simply, the opportunity to join
with other women in a supportive social setting. These processes inspire self-

224 Ilse Abshagen Leitinger

confidence and lead women to take the initiative in community affairs, to
speak up, and to learn to make independent decisions. In short, these oppor-'
tunities empower women to contribute to the well—being of the community
and to their own fulfillment. This was all the more important in the early years,
when no alternatives existed for women in the area. Today, the expanding
tourist industry presents other options. In fact, “if CASEM were starting today,
who knows if we would become as successful as we have been,” said one of its
eight founders (Salazar, July 18, 1992, pers. comm.).

Some men have not been happy with the artisans’ success. Many husbands
welcomed the addition of their wives’ cash income to their own—“The wom-
en’s success could be measured in colones,” noted Carlos Vargas (July 14, 1992,
pers. comm.). Others, however, did not want women to take time out from
home and child—care obligations in order to produce, learn, succeed, and
maybe even travel or have fun with CASEM. Undoubtedly, men feared that
women would become too independent and that men would lose control. One
of CASEM’s founders noted that “women were not used to taking on respon-
sibility. They had been taught to obey fathers, brothers, husbands; they were
not ready to make decisions or demand room for their own personal develop-
ment.” And she confirmed that “CASEM has changed men’s attitudes . . .
somewhat” (Rodriguez, July 15, 1992, pers. comm.). Sadly enough, not all
men’s attitudes changed. In one case, a father would not permit his daughter to
go to CASEM to submit her craft items. \/Vhen CASEM invited him to hear an
explanation of the rationale for this requirement (LA, 6 [April 3, 1991]), he
refused the invitation. In the end, the daughter left home and today is a single
mother (Jimenez, August 26, 1992, pers. comm.).

Despite such difficulties, CASEM has profoundly changed the way women
see themselves and the way others see them. In fact, some suggest CASEM’s
social achievements outweigh its economic ones (VanDusen, July 15, 1992,
pers. comm.). To be sure, gender still determines community participation,
but many women have gained confidence through their business success with
CASEM or on their own (Drake, 1991; Hanson, 1991; Marsh,.1991; Vargas L.,
C.A., July 14, 1992, pers. comm.).

CASEM’s efforts are also producing another satisfying result: By recreating
the natural beauty of their environment, many rural women have developed a
new perspective on the natural world around them, which they might not
otherwise have examined so intensely (Gomez M., July 18, 1992, pers. comm.).
As a result, the environmental concern expressed by CASEM’s formal declara-
tion to “foster the conservation of natural resources of the zone through the

Long-Term Survival of a Women’s Crafts Cooperative 225

1 $3 THE VARYING FACES OF THE
COSTA RICAN WOMENJS MOVEMENT
AND COSTA RICAN FEMINISM

   

Clockwise from top left: May Brenes
Marin, Montserrat Sagot with Ilse
Leitinger, Paula Antezana Rimassa,
Alda Facio Montejo, and Paquita
Cruz

 

sale of crafts” has become a personal mission for these women (CSE, n.d.[a];
n.d.[b]).

Other aspects of CASEM’s social mission include its many offerings of non-
craft training, through courses on subjects important to rural women, such as
health, nutrition, household management, and education (Jimenez, July 15,
1992, pers. comm.). Recently, in cooperation with the Monteverde Institute,
CASEM has begun offering women’s courses and workshops on diverse issues
(LA, 6 [February 10; May 11, 1992] ). Also, with the help of the Centro Nacional
de Educacion Cooperativista (CENECOOP) (National Center for Cooperati-
vist Education), women at CASEM have studied organizational management
(LA, 5 [February 26, 1990]). Beyond that, the contribution of local Quaker
women, particularly the training in nonconflictive negotiation for problem
solving, has been essential for the cooperative’s management (Jimenez, July 14,
1992, pers. comm.).

An unexpected yet understandable side effect of CASEM’s contribution to
women’s growing independence has been that some of the most enterprising,
gifted members have found it difficult to accept conditions for membership
over time. Among them are several excellent artists who devoted years to
building up CASEM, provided training for artisans in outlying villages, and
did exceptionally well with sales through CASEM. They have left the coopera-
tive, feeling that their own creative initiative was stifled by rules such as the one
requiring members to sell or exhibit only through CASEM. In fact, only three
of the original eight founding members remain with CASEM today (Rodri-
guez, July 15, 1992, pers. comm.).

Leaders have agonized over having to impose conditions such as the rule of
only selling through CASEM or of protecting the use of designs. They argue,
however, that this is a legitimate price members must pay for the support,
training, marketing, infrastructure, attention to well—being, and other social
benefits membership offers (Salazar, July 18, 1992, pers. comm.). To promote
such benefits, leaders also arrange purely recreational events, such as frequent
fairs and community parties like CASEM’s tenth anniversary party in May
1992. It has also sponsored occasional trips to other regions for fashion shows
at hotels in San José or for outings at the beach (see, e.g., LA, 5 [January 27;
February 26; May 8, 1990]; 6 [February 3, 1992] ).

In the community, CASEM’s role has changed noticeably. People ask
CASEM for help and advice. Interested groups want to visit CASEM, ask
CASEM trainers to visit their communities, and invite CASEM members to

226 Ilse Abshagen Leitinger

visit (see, e.g., LA, 5 [Ianuary 4; February 12, 1990]; 6 [March 12, 1991; May 11,
1992] ). Despite its limited capacity to comply, CASEM responds judiciously to
such requests. Recently, a new CASEM outreach program has begun to train
non—members, Santa Elena high—school students, and interested participants
in outlying communities. The previous manager of CASEM’s store, Nery
Gomez, now runs training programs in outlying communities (LA, 6 [May 11;
June 10, 1992] ).

CASEM is also a partner in community affairs. It contributed 60,000 co-
lones (approximately $500 at then current exchange rates) to the twentieth
anniversary celebration of CoopeSE (LA, 6 [July 1, 1991]), and it is working
with the Asociacion Conservacionista de Monteverde, the Reserva del Bosque
Nuboso Monteverde, the Camara de Turismo, the Centro de Educacion Crea-
tiva, and the Plan de Desarrollo Integral Monteverde 2020 on various projects
(see, e.g., LA, 6 [February 3; February 10; May 11, 1992]).

CASEM Looks Toward the Future

In its early years, CASEM responded primarily to its own problems, most
of which resulted from constant growth in membership and sales and from
the need for a permanent location. But as its operation has consolidated, as
CASEM has become an economic force and has taken on responsibilities for
the well-being of its own members, its leaders have become aware of the need
not merely to respond to what has happened but also to anticipate what will
happen, so as to plan appropriate action.

CASEM leaders have charted plans of action for different future scenarios,
taking into consideration changing numbers of tourists, plans for marketing
locally or internationally, and new production trends and products. They also
have been asking how they can continue to improve the lives of the women
working for CASEM and how they can contribute to the well-being of the
community.

The current five—year plan (see table 23.1) provides an insight into the
goals of CASEM’s management (LA, 6 [January 13, 1992]). Highlights include
streamlining the operation and doubling its present size (with an enlarged
proportion of male members); improving training, technical processes, and
social services to personnel and customers; expanding marketing options; and
implementing careful financial planning. The plan represents an organization
that is under control and aware of its setting, potential, and where it wants to

Long- Term Survival of a Women’s Crafts Cooperative 227

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be five years hence. The plan also shows that CASEM is considering ways to
deal with contingencies beyond its control, such as changes in the local, na-
tional, and international markets.

The Interplay of Factors

This reconstruction of CASEM’s establishment and ten—year trajectory has
identified a number of circumstances that have affected CASEM’s growth and
survival. Even if some of its successes served CASEM’s social goals while hurt-
ing its economic ones, the major positive factors in CASEM’s growth and
survival seem to be a favorable physical and socioeconomic context; a clear
mandate for job diversification expressed by local business leaders; a con-
stantly growing market; access to business advice, guidance, and occasional
outside financial support; a female population with no options for productive
activities and no social interaction other than through family—related tasks;
and a team of women with artistic and leadership potential and a vision of the
double goal of women’s economic and social empowerment.

The growth process produced problems, though. CASEM struggled con-
tinually to maintain quality and consistent production in the face of a growing
demand for its handicrafts. Membership turnover has been very high, creating
a constant need for training of new artisans in a variety of media. CASEM
leaders also faced the logistic problems of a membership spread over a wide,
topographically broken area; seasonally varying demands for artisans’ produc-
tion; and the task of constantly adjusting organizational and administrative
structures to handle the rapid growth.

Which of these factors were crucial? The evidence allows only a preliminary
assessment. It seems that in terms of the setting, the growth of tourism—which
produced an ever-increasing demand for CASEM’s products—and CoopeSE’s
continued support with sound business advice were essential and were respon-
sible for major stages in the development. In terms of internal processes,
CASEM’s drive for quality, its development of the “estilo Monteverde” in
response to the timely concern with the environment, and its conscious com-
mitment to a double social and economic mission appear decisive. In addition,
the capacity of the leadership to step back and reflect, to ask themselves un-
comfortable questions, to face reality, to negotiate and be immensely persistent
throughout a ten—year period—in sum, CASEM’s leadership sty1e—represents
a condition without which the growth and survival of this organization would
have been impossible.

230 Ilse Abshagen Leitinger

Some of these conditions or factors are unique to the Monteverde setting and
the time; others can be replicated elsewhere. Women who plan to embark on
similar endeavors may want to study CASEM’s experiences carefully. CASEM
leaders will contribute to women’s empowerment if they share their experiences
with other Costa Ricans who have the courage to start their own enterprises.

Biodata

Ilse Abshagen Leitinger is a German—born, naturalized U.S. citizen. She has a Ph.D. in
international studies from the University of Denver and has taught comparative sociol-
ogy and Latin American studies at Grinnell College in Iowa. She was a Fulbright
lecturer at the former Centro Interdisciplinario de Estudios de la Mujer (CIEM) (Cen-
ter for Interdisciplinary Women’s Studies), now the Instituto de Estudios de la Mujer
(IEM) (Institute of Women’s Studies) at the Universidad Nacional. She is a founding
member of the Instituto Latinoamericano de Investigacion Feminista (ILIFEM) (Latin
American Institute for Feminist Research). She has been interested in Latin American
women since she first explored the region from Mexico to southern Chile and Argen-
tina in 1958 and 1959 (with Hans Leitinger), traveling by amphibious jeep and bridging
gaps in the Pan-American highway by sea, using the jeep as a boat. Her research
has focused on women’s legal status, social history, Central American feminism, and
women in development.

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Santa Elena R.L. con el Comité de Artesanos.” July 8. Mimeo.

—. 1991. “Coop Santa Elena.” In Monteverde Family Album Volunteer Committee,
eds., Family Album, vol. 13 (April 17): 55-57.  

——. Personal communications. July 14, 1992, August 26, 1992.

Vargas Leitén, José Luis. 1991. “Dairy Plant Expansion.” In Monteverde Family Album
Volunteer Committee, eds., Family Album, vol. 13 (April 17): 43.

Villalobos H., Eduardo, and Mara V. Jiménez G. n.d. “Convenio para la construccion y
operacion de un local para la produccion, exhibicién y ventas de artesanias en
Monteverde.” Mimeo. Santa Elena.

Acknowledgments

Thanks to staff and members of CASEM, the CoopeSanta Elena, the Monteverde
Cloud Forest Reserve, the Monteverde Conservation League, the Monteverde Institute,
Monteverde 2020, and Productores de Monteverde, especially Cristina Castro L., Nery
Gomez M., Damaris Huertas, Patricia Jiménez, Jan Lawther, Julia Lawther, Lila Lobo,
Luis Monge, Bertalia Rodriguez, Marta Iris Salazar, Ree Sheck, Joe Stuckey, the Trostles
and others of the Monteverde Friends Meeting, Katy VanDusen, and Carlos Vargas L.
for insight and information; to my students Alisa Baum, Karin Bellomy, Melanie
Drake, Meghan Fuchs, Joel Hanson, Kristin Hoffschmidt, Ellen Lock, Anna Marsh,
Wendy Powers, Karen Stocker, Carol Weirs, and Jessica Wodatch, for sharing their
understanding of the community’s struggles and successes; to Grinnell College, Grin-
nell, Iowa, for continued research support; and to ACM and ICADS, off-campus study
programs that allowed me to work with the region’s communities and CASEM.

Long-Term Survival of a Women’s Crafts Cooperative 233

24 %% .Reconceptualizing the Theory
of Women in Organizations

Contributions of Feminist Analysis

Laura Guzman Stein

This study probes certain assumptions that have generated a large volume of
research on women’s organizations and efforts to organize women in Latin
America. The analysis of women’s organizational capacity has in the past been
based on theoretical and methodological schemes that fail to capture the femi-
nine experience. Studies have taken the male as model and have denied the
validity of interpretations women themselves provide. Yet women’s experience
is qualitatively different from that of men. Thus, I propose the introduction of
feminist analysis into the theory of organizations.

The discussion on this topic has barely begun. We women are just now
tearing down idols and myths presented to us for centuries as absolute and
undeniable truth. Though this process of criticism and self—criticism is in its
first phase, we must fortify it, encouraging sane reflection to eliminate theoret-
ical dogmas still considered valid by many female and male researchers and
activists, feminist or not. Only then can the groundwork be laid for new
theories and methods for participating in the transformation of factors that
heretofore have made true equality between women and men impossible. This
will substantially improve organizational analysis.

Four Assumptions Dominate Research and Work
with Women’s Organizations

We must assess several assumptions for research on, or work with, women in

organizations from a feminist perspective. Here are the four most generally

accepted:

1. Women are reluctant to participate in organizations; this reluctance stems from
their strong individualism and passivity, the result of socialization processes in-

tended to prepare women for housework and motherhood.
2. Women have little capacity for resisting the oppression and exploitation to which

234

they are subject as women. When they face violence or marginalization because of
being female, they do not resist; rather, they accept the situation passively, afraid to
act to change it.

3. Some analysts object in principle to women’s organizations on the rationale that
these marginalize women even more. The principal assumption is that women can
gain access to power and resources men control only through institutions legit-
imized by society and dominated by men, and that, if women unite to fight, society
will not take them seriously.

4. Finally, critics evaluate women’s organizations negatively because they lack formal
hierarchical structures and legal identity; critics argue that such organizations are
valid only if they are characterized by formal structures and modeled after Max
Weber’s legitimate authority. (1944).

Toward a Feminist Theory of Organizations

According to Weber (1944), bureaucratic organizations organize individuals
and tasks to guarantee continuity and stability by eliminating ambiguities in
relations between members, even though internal conflicts may create a politi-
cal territory in which struggles for power, prestige, personal value, and survival
are endemic.

Feminist theory criticizes this bureaucratized organization of political, social,
and economic life (Ferguson, 1985). Feminist analysis indicates the following:

° Understanding the patterns of domination and subordination between men and
women makes us understand the subtleties of power and control that operate inside
bureaucratic organizations, including social organizations such as unions, coopera-
tives, communal associations, and social service organizations.

' Acknowledging notions of personal identity and social interactions that prevail in
women’s experience suggests a debureaucratized vision of collective life.

A feminist theory of organizations is based on a nonhierarchical orienta-
tion. It reduces the chasm between private and public life and rejects hierarchi-
cal forms of organization in favor of a different vision of personal and collec-
tive life. This theory wants to rescue the organizational experience of women
by asserting values important for a democratic society that is free of gender
inequalities.

Assessing the Four Dominant Assumptions

Women’s Absence from Community Life and Organization

In contemporary society, the sex—gender system dominated by men is strongly
associated with the division of labor by sex, in which special significance is

Reconceptualizing the Theory of Women in Organizations 235

2

SECTION I EXPLORES the complexity of existing interpretations of the wom-
en’s movement and feminism in Costa Rica. Its five selections represent a wide
spectrum of women’s concerns. A historical sketch portrays unusual women of
the past, mid-nineteenth—century individualists of extreme individual effi—
cacy, and early—twentieth-century civic women intent on fighting for political
rights. The second selection introduces a highly intellectual enterprise of a
feminist publication; the third describes a feminist organization created in
part by leaders who were educated abroad and who worked with women at the
grassroots level, an organization that found its courage with the political left
but has since acquired independence from this origin. The fourth selection
presents an organization that rose from the grassroots women’s movement
and is turning feminist because of its experiences. The section closes with
the thoughts of a famous writer and feminist on the ancient and—feminism
notwithstanding—still compelling patterns of patriarchy.

Different Times, Women, Visions: The Deep Roots of
Costa Rican Feminism, by Yadira Calvo Fajardo

Yadira Calvo, an authority on intellectual and literary history and a feminist,
first focuses on individual efficacy as she describes the young intellectual Ma-
nuela Escalante and the woman soldier and war hero Pancha (Francisca) Ca-
rrasco. Neither of these two mid-nineteenth—century women belonged to the
women’s movement or was a feminist, yet in their stubborn self—esteem each
was a highly unconventional nineteenth—century precursor of feminism. More-
over, Pancha Carrasco has become a symbol of the women’s movement today;
the Colectivo Pancha Carrasco, a women’s support organization that dates
from 1986 and works to promote participation, organization, skill training, and
consciousness raising of grassroots urban and rural women, bears her name.

Thereafter, when Calvo refers to suffragists and the resulting demand of
women for full participation in society, she documents the political roots of
both the women’s movement and feminism.

Thus, in this overview covering a century and a half, the author sug-
gests that Costa Rican feminism began with the unconventionalism of a few
nineteenth—century women who defied the dictates of society. The movement
then passed through a stage when women defended political institutions, even
though these institutions excluded them, and continued with the struggle of
mid-twentieth-century women for their own right to vote. Feminism has now,
in the late twentieth century, brought to women the consciousness that, be-
yond the right to vote, women’s rights include the right to enter any field in
which they choose to make their mark.

The Varying Faces of the Women’s Movement

accorded to the terms public and private. The “public” realm is the area of deci-
sion making par excellence, in which women have a subordinate position; the
“private” realm is the area of everything domestic—tasks assigned to women,
such as biological reproduction; reproduction of the work force; and the care
of children, the aged, and the infirm (Sojo, 1985).

The community is perceived as part of the “public” world, which belongs to
the male. Yet, this is where women interact actively with other individuals
outside the domestic nucleus, though their presence and social interactions
may not be recognized by patriarchal society, which conceives of them as being
in the home, unaware of other spheres. Anybody can discover this reality in
our Costa Rican neighborhoods.

Patriarchal ideology conditions female involvement in economic, social,
cultural, and political organizations, as well as in community development
projects (Nash, 1980; Romero, 1989). It influences the selection of research
models to interpret the dynamics with which these groups enter into the life of
their community and society. Consequently, women appear passive in com-
munities, whereas men rise, as naturally prepared actors, to guide others and

make the great decisions (Nash, 1980). Hence, this image of women largely.

determines not only the social condition of females in the community but also
the quantity and quality of women’s participation in communal life.
Moreover, women’s participation in organizations or communal groups is
inspired principally in areas seen as extensions of domestic roles: family plan-
ning, nutrition and health, child care, school committees, and religious and

volunteer groups in general. Most if not all members of those groups are

women, who participate as volunteers after completing their household ob-
ligations. Of course, groups or organizations in which most members are
women have low national and communal prestige and often lack legal identity.

In contrast, male efforts are channeled toward institutionalized organiza-
tions, such as community development organizations, cooperatives, unions,
sports associations, and others. The men control important posts that give
them prestige and power.

Household responsibilities constitute a substantial limiting factor for wom-
en’s participation in communal groups and organizations, since they take
much time and energy that women cannot dedicate to other activities. Even
less time remains for those who have to work for pay, so that La Doble Iornada
(The Double Work Day) becomes a crucial obstacle.

Unfortunately, most research on women’s organizational participation has
focused on formal, institutionalized, and bureaucratized organizations. This

236 Laura Guzmdn Stein

bias has produced serious distortions in the assessment of the organizational
capacity of women. However, some Costa Rican studies have contributed to
clarifying the discrimination Women face in gaining access to positions of
decision making in formal social organizations, such as communal develop-
ment organizations, unions, and cooperatives (e.g., Carro and Picado, 1980;
Escalante, Barahona, and Guzman, 1989; Gonzalez, 1977; Iiménez, 1988). These
studies also analyze factors that result in women’s limited participation. Yet,
the analysts rely on studies done in the context of organizations representing
the masculine patriarchal model, and from these studies they generalize to all
Women’s organizational activities. This practice is just as inappropriate as
extrapolating from statistics about the so-called economically active female
population to make generalizations about the female working population.

How can organizational analysts dare to state that women do not organize
or participate in organizations because they are not massively represented in
the ones institutionalized by the state and recognized by patriarchal society as
worthy of the name organization? Such a sweeping generalization corresponds
to recognizing as “work” only the “labor” that men do. The bias is serious:
Women tend to join regularly in informal organizations (without legal iden-
tity) and women’s groups. Excellent Costa Rican examples are groups that
struggle for housing, in which 80 percent of the members are women (see
Sagot, chap. 22 above); committees of rural education and nutrition centers;
health centers; voluntary groups; production—oriented women’s enterprises;
and women’s associations. The female membership in such organizations is
high, despite the factors that limit women’s participation in organizations
outside the home.

The organizational forms those women employ to solve vital problems defy
the orthodox postulates that dominate organizational analysis. The daily appli-
cation of these forms, moreover, demonstrates their effectiveness for solving,
through collective action, the problems affecting women and their families.

In part, women turn to informal organizations because they offer flexible
hours and structures corresponding to the time many have available. Further-
more, organizations such as committees fighting for specific demands or asso-
ciations for income generation respond to women’s needs and priorities. They
offer concrete benefits over the short term. In contrast, organizations con-
trolled by men do not take care of the needs of their members because men,
given the privileged position patriarchal society offers them, believe them-
selves qualified to interpret what benefits others and to consider solutions as
universally beneficial, according to their masculine perspective.

Reconceptualizing the Theory of Women in Organizations 237

Women’s organizations also offer advantages to women with husbands or
partners. When a woman partner participates in predominantly male groups,
most men feel threatened, fearing they will lose control over her life. I/Vhen a
woman joins a female group, most male partners put up little or no resistance
against her activity outside the home.

Women are also well represented in volunteer organizations. Laura Guz-
man, Lorena Vargas, and Carmen Blanco (1985) found that in Costa Rica,
voluntarism fulfills important social, economic, and political functions. But
even when patriarchal society fosters the incorporation of women into Volun-
teer organizations, it does not consider their activities to be “work” nor does it
recognize the true value of the tasks that organizations of this type perform for
national development.

Voluntarism attracts women because it allows them to use their time in an
activity that society recognizes as useful and that does not generate much
opposition from. men. In addition, voluntarism permits women to obtain
positions of prestige without having to compete with men. As a rule, the tasks
allow flexible schedules, thus adjusting to the limits women face. State and
private welfare institutions also support women’s voluntary participation in
certain programs. In some cases, participation is obligatory for those who
obtain food, housing, or clothing in return. In others, it guarantees the perma-
nent functioning of services through unpaid but qualified workers, inasmuch
as the functions are similar to those the workers practice in the domestic
realm.

One must conclude, therefore, that the female presence in groups and
organizations is a reality, and all that remains is to make it visible, to capture
its dimensions and implications. We can do so if we modify our way of envi-
sioning organizations, assessing the female capacity to organize and our way
of doing research. Organizational analysts must rediscover from the women
themselves where, When, how, why, and with whom women join groups; what
they think of themselves as actors in organizational processes; and what lim-
its and satisfaction they find. Organizational theory must stop considering
women as an extension of men and instead must see Women as they are and
attribute value to what they do.

On Women’s Inability to Resist Exploitation and Subordination

Liberal and Marxist theories tend to see women, particularly poor women, as
victims of structural forces. Yet, recent investigations seem to contradict this
view and to offer evidence about how women resist and manage exploitation
in the family, at work, and in the community.

238 Laura Guzman Stein

Ianet Everett and Mary Savara (1987) argue that women are capable of
adapting to the contradictory context of capitalist development in societies
stratified by class, gender, ethnicity, race, or caste. Although most women react
against discrimination or oppression, they also understand—intuitively or
consciously—their vulnerability in a society that discriminates against them as
second—class citizens.

For instance, many women are aware of the degree to which their partners
exploit them, but they understand that they need the partners as providers or
as caretakers for the children while they, the women, work. Many studies
confirm that working women recognize the abuses to which they are subjected
in the workplace. Nevertheless, they cannot always resort to conventional
forms of resistance—such as joining unions or filing suits against the Labor
Ministry—because they would risk losing an income they desperately need. In
cases of sexual abuse, consequences of denouncing the abuse can be worse for
the woman than for the aggressor (Guzman et al., 1985).

Women who work in transnationals and maquila industries know they will
quickly lose their jobs if they participate in union negotiations. They also know
from experience that no union will provide them with the income they need to
maintain themselves and their families. Therefore, to withstand the oppressive
conditions under which they carry out their jobs, they have developed subtle
tactics that most investigators fail to perceive but that nonetheless allow them
to reach their goals (Pefia, 1982).

In some cases, women turn saboteurs to obtain obligatory leave, operating
so skillfully that neither supervisors nor technicians can detect them. In other
cases they generate massive hysteria to paralyze a factory. The technique of
using rumors as a means of ending the violation of the rights of women
workers by supervisors, directors, or owners has been very effective both in
work centers and in communities (Guzman et al., 1985).

Similarly, when facing situations of domestic violence, women have dis-
played a capacity to resist intelligently in a setting that opposes them and
judges them on the basis of sexist prejudices. In various sections of metro-
politan San lose, in Costa Rica, women have organized a sign campaign during
the hours of darkness. Houses with abusive men are labeled with placards
stating, “Here lives a man who beats his wife,” or “Here lives a rapist.” To be
thus exposed produces negative reactions that frequently act as control mecha-
nisms. Case studies of women’s life histories and testimony suggest that they
do not enjoy subordination, as some say. Rather, they express the opposite
feelings (Moritz, 1988; Osorio, Torrico, Guido, and David, 1986).

These practices show that women do not submit passively to men’s domina-

Reconceptualizing the Theory of Women in Organizations 239

tion or exploitation. \/Vhen they cannot resist actively, they employ noncon-
ventional mechanisms, which allow them to survive in an adverse environ-
ment without surrendering their active functioning.

Together, Ye5—Bat Integrated or Not Integrated?

Organizational theory clearly defines two positions regarding women’s organi-
zations:

1. Proponents of integrated organizations argue that organizations exclusively for
women add to women’s marginalization because society limits their access to re-
sources and can more easily discriminate against members of women’s organiza-
tions.

2. Defenders of the existence of women’s organizations contend that “integrated”
organizations fail to integrate women because such organizations continue to be
dominated by men, and women’s interests are therefore subsumed under general,
i.e., male, interests.

Other analysts confirm (Yudelman, 1987) that even when women can join
mixed, i.e., integrated, organizations under conditions of equality, the need for
women’s organizations has not been eliminated. Experience shows that the
latter offer better opportunities for developing self—confidence and skills in a
solidary environment of participation, without competition or imposition,
allowing access to resources and the achievement of economic or political
independence (Osorio et al., 1986).

Some say that women’s organizations are more vulnerable than men’s orga-
nizations, that they are more easily manipulated and controlled by the state,
political parties, or private agencies. Such statements lack support and reflect a
sexist conception that denies women’s capacity to act independently. However,
the disadvantages that women’s organizations suffer from in Latin America
and Costa Rica occur with almost all organizations in the region.

Potential and Problems of Structural Informality in Women’s Organizations

Informal, nonbureaucratic organizations do not correspond to Weber’s model
(1944)—the dominant model in Western society—of the legitimate authority
of bureaucratic structures and processes, in which authority is granted on the
basis of formal, legalistic rationality, tradition, or leadership charisma.

Yet, Kay Ferguson (1985) posits that organizations with structural infor-
mality foster consciousness raising and skills training of women, because they
change relations that perpetuate social and gender inequality. Traditional bu-
reaucracies strengthen and increase such inequalities, giving power to a few
privileged members and limiting opportunities for the development of skills of

240 Laura Guzman Stein

subordinate members. Consequently, organizations that reproduce hierarchi-
cal structures reinforce patriarchal notions of gender relations, thereby favor-
ing the subordination and exploitation of women as human beings.

According to Ferguson, women’s unbureaucratic vision of the world and
organizations is deeply rooted in their experience of being responsible for the
care of others. Through that experience as female members in patriarchal
society, women have acquired values of solidarity, empathy, responsibility to-
ward and connection with others, which gives them both strengths and weak-
nesses. She further argues that women’s responsibility to anticipate and re-
spond to the needs of others requires sensitivity and empathy toward others,
solidarity, and cooperation. Women therefore function best in informal con-
texts in which primary relationships and flexibility predominate.

Larissa Lomnitz (n.d.) found in Latin American society, in all social classes,
systems of informal exchange functioning parallel to the formal economy, on
the basis of long-term social relations. They create networks that convert social
resources into economic benefits, such as security, prestige, or power. Women
are the principal actors for creating and maintaining the networks that form
the basis of the exchange system. Men have proved less capable than women in
manipulating such social mechanisms, whereas women play an essential role
in developing solidarity among participants and in maintaining a constant
flow of goods and services.   ‘

Similarly, Devon Pefia (1982) observed that women in maquiladora opera-
tions organized themselves successfully through informal dynamics based on
personal networks that responded to their interests, needs, and limits, and thus
were more efficient in resisting exploitation.

Nevertheless, these values and behaviors also contain enormous weaknesses
which must be analyzed if they are to be understood and corrected within a
feminist framework.

When individuals see their lives as being closely related to those of others,
they develop a need for others. This creates dependence and vulnerability and
explains why women often avoid risks or conflict (Ferguson, 1985). These
attitudes become problematic in nonbureaucratic environments, where male
and female actors must face conflicts between different personalities or inter-
ests; take on financial, social, and emotional risks; and solve problems of
interpersonal relations, productivity, and efficiency.

Experience has taught women to subordinate themselves in the family and
outside the home. This experience and the supporting ideology have deformed
women’s self-image and their notion of others, of social relations, and of inter-
actions. They have developed a sense of incompetence in the public sphere, a

Reconceptualizing the Theory of Women in Organizations 241

242

sense of fear that their projects have no value in that context (Ferguson, 1985).
Thus, women have been trained to be incapable, to generate only the behaviors
that permit their survival as oppressed victims.

Individuals subordinated to others do what they must to survive in a world
they do not control. Oppression distorts their skills and se1f—perception. In
such a context, their bonds with others lack equality, and they turn to manip-
ulating others. Dominated individuals adjust to the dominating power. This in
turn produces a dependency, which allows stronger personalities to make
decisions for them. Public or private institutions, communal leaders, and
leaders of social organizations often display this pattern.

Nonstructured organizational environments offer women flexibility to de-
velop organizational models adapted to their interests and needs and to their
social experience as women. The lack of structure creates a participatory en-
vironment in which women can learn problem solving without being threat-
ened by masculine power, in which what they do is valued, and in which they
control the product of their labors.

But just as an unstructured environment can favor humanization, it can
also hurt women—through leadership problems, inefficiency, political ineffec-
tiveness, and loss of control of the movement or organization. From a feminist
point of view, a leader’s authority must come from the quality of the relation-
ships she establishes with group members. The leader must train all the others,
not only a few. Group leaders must develop the skills of passing on power
without avoiding their responsibilities.

Yet, even if an organization fosters participatory democracy and an informal
flexible structure, this does not guarantee that its members will function ac-
cordingly. Sally Yudelman (1987) contends that women often give the impres-
sion of being incapable of maintaining participatory organizations free of con-
flict and in good working order. This difficulty may be the result of an intense
emotional commitment of the members to charismatic leaders. For Ferguson
(1985), the problem lies in women’s experience and the attitudes they developed
being responsible for others and being subordinate. Yudelman and Ferguson
suggest an ideal alternative: The rotation of female leadership, in which author-
ity and responsibility are not based on domination and subordination.

Conclusion
As I indicated initially, this discussion is incomplete. The questions I have

raised here show that we women must redefine concepts and models that have

Laura Guzmcin Stein

dominated organizational analysis up to now. The notion of gender must be
incorporated as an essential component if we are to capture reality and inter-
pret it. This will have implications for the development of policies and actions
to strengthen organizations.

We must strive toward rigorously quantifying women’s participation in all
groups and organizations, not only in those to which patriarchal society as-
signs prestige. This effort must be directed toward identifying qualitative as-
pects that define women’s organizational capacity and differentiate it from
men’s capacity.

Women must take primary responsibility for this revision of organizational
analysis, though men concerned with gender relations may join us. We must
understand that if we do not begin to discover and value who we are—without
false modesty and with full awareness of our weaknesses—we will never
achieve the goal of having others recognize our presence in all areas of society
and our contributions to organizations.

Biodata

Laura Guzman Stein, a Costa Rican, has a licenciatura in social work from the Univer-
sidad de Costa Rica and a Ph.D. in social work from Arizona State University in Tempe,
Arizona. A professor with the Escuela de Trabajo Social (School of Social Work) and
the Programa Interdisciplinario de Estudios de Género (PRIEG) (Interdisciplinary
Gender Studies Program) at the Universidad de Costa Rica, she also coordinates the
Programa de Derechos Humanos (Women and Human Rights Program), Instituto
Interamericano de Derechos Humanos (Inter-American Institute of Human Rights).
She is a lecturer in cross—cultural women’s issues and social work practice at Arizona
State University and a consultant in curriculum development for schools of social work
in Panama, Ecuador, and Guatemala. Her research has focused on women in the
maquila industry, women in organizations, gender policy, and planning. With Alda
Facio of ILANUD and Rhonda Copelon of the City University of New York, she taught
a graduate extension seminar Mujer, Género y la Ley (Women, Gender, and Law), at
the Universidad de Costa Rica. Since 1993 she has been teaching in the new joint
Maestria Conjunta _en Estudios de la Mujer, Universidad de Costa Rica—Universidad
Nacional.

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la situacion de la mujer en la politica en Costa Rica.” In Memoria del seminario sobre

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Ferguson, Kay. 1985. The Feminist Case Against Bureaucracy. Philadelphia: Temple
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Lomnitz, Larissa. n.d. “The Role of Women in an Informal Economy.” Mimeo. Mexico:
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Moritz, Nancy. 1988. Diagnostico situacional de los grupos productivos femeninos en
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Nash, June. 1980. “A Critique of Social Science Roles in Latin America.” In June Nash
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Osorio, Rodolfo, Lidia Torrico, Francisco Guido, and Luis David. 1986. Las mujeres
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Familiar (COF).

Pefia, Devon. 1982. “Emerging Organizational Strategies of Maquila Workers in
Mexico-U.S. Border Industries.” Paper presented at the tenth annual meeting of the
National Chicano Studies Association, Arizona State University, Tempe, Ariz.

Romero, Carmen Maria. 1989. “Educacion popular y problematica femenina.” In Me-
moria del seminario sobre estudios de la mujer, pp. 87-96. San Jose, Costa Rica:
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Nacional para el Desarrollo de la Mujer y la Familia.

Sojo, Ana. 1985. Mujer y politica: Ensayo sobre elfeminismo y el sujeto popular. San Jose,
Costa Rica: Editorial Departamento Ecuménico de Investigacion.

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Press. I

Laura Guzman Stein

VI axis THE woMEN’s MOVEMENT
AND FEMINISM IN THE ARTS

Yad‘ir2iL Ciajlvo W1t1'1 her two daugfiférs, Cofafi; T2;14iaVChf.a‘mo»rro 

The Group Ventana: An Assessment, by Rosalia Camacho,
Alda Facio Montejo, and Ligia Martin

Describing the trajectory of the magazine Ventana, Rosalia Camacho, Alda
Facio, and Ligia Martin, three outstanding intellectuals and activists, present
clearly the theoretical-philosophical roots of feminism. Their aim is to raise
the consciousness of their fellow intellectuals in order to change society.

The authors assess the role of a small group of university women which was
among the first in Costa Rica to call itself feminist, and the group’s decision in
the early 1980s to publish a feminist magazine, Ventana, in order to interpret
feminism to professional and university women. The rationale was that many
educated women did not fully understand what feminism stood for, but, if
offered a clear idea of its meaning, they would be able to share their insights
with women of grassroots organizations with whom they were working as
professionals and educators.

Although Ventana ran into difficulties and had to discontinue publication
while editorial committee members took on various other obligations, the
magazine made an essential contribution to early feminism in Costa Rica.

Improving the Quality of Women’s Daily Lives:
Costa Rica’s Centro Feminista de Informacion y Accién,
by Ana Carcedo, Montserrat Sagot, and Marta Trejos

The analysis of the Centro Feminista de Informacién y Accién (CEFEMINA)
introduces the reader to an action—oriented, popular grassroots Women’s orga-
nization. Originally related to a political party on the left, CEFEMINA, the
oldest explicitly feminist organization in Costa Rica, illustrates the political
roots of feminism, even though it is no longer tied to a specific political
ideology. Authors Ana Carcedo, Montserrat Sagot, and Marta Trejos, long-
time members and officers of CEFEMINA, are representative of Costa Rican
foreign—educated, consciously feminist leaders.

This study traces the history of CEFEMINA, with its peculiarly Latin Amer-
ican orientation toward solving all women’s——but especially poor women’s—
problems in the quality of daily life. The authors survey the organization’s
major fields of activities.

The Alianza de Mujeres Costarricenses, a Popular Movement:

An Impassioned Plea for Action-Oriented Feminism, by Ana Hernandez
Ana Hernandez, a Women’s leader who became a feminist through her work
with the nonprofit Asociacion Alianza de Mujeres Costarricenses (Alianza),
describes this women’s—moVement type of organization. Dating from 1952, the

The Varying Faces of the Women’s Movement 3

COSTA RICAN WOMEN have contributed to the arts in many ways. They serve
not only as models, providing themes for artistic expression, but also as cre-
ative artists in the visual arts of painting and sculpture, in music, litera-
ture, theater, dance, and film making. The arts are a medium for portraying
women’s traditional roles as mothers, housekeepers, caretakers, lovers, or
idols of beauty, but they also permit artists to raise questions about these
stereotypical roles and to offer a critical assessment of women’s treatment by
society.

The three selections in this section represent examples of this questioning of
Women’s roles by women painters; of the perpetuation of stereotypes about
women’s roles in popular music; and of the effort to see the treatment of
women by society in perspective, through feminist literary analysis and wom-
en’s biography.

Feminist Visions: Four Women Artists in Costa Rica, by Sally R. Felton

Sally Felton introduces four Women artists whose Work questions the role of
women and reflects their feminist viewpoints. Their art portrays women’s
doubts and criticism about their traditional identity and roles and their aware-
ness of their exploitation and isolation. The study outlines the active participa-
tion of women in Costa Rican art since the 1930s. It traces the changes in
women as subjects or themes in art, from visions of women as saints or
mothers to more critical perceptions of maternity and of women as partici-
pants in society.

Women and Love: Myths and Stereotypes in Popular Songs Broadcast in
Costa Rica, by Sandra Castro Paniagua and Luisa Goncalves

In their analysis of popular music, Sandra Castro and Luisa Goncalves stress
the continuing power that traditional female stereotypes exert on contem-
porary women. Operating from the premise that media represent the world-
view of a given culture, the authors present a content analysis of six popular
songs played over Radio Sensacién in San Iosé in late 1987. Their aim was
to identify myths and stereotypes reinforcing patterns of domination, subor-
dination, and submission in male—female relationships in Costa Rican society.
The songs are assessed in terms of their message—for example, whether they
present myths that justify the man-woman relationship and the meaning of
love or reinforce stereotypes that specify appropriate male and female role
behavior.

246 The Women’s Movement and Feminism in the Arts

Yadira Calvo: Costa Rican Feminist Writer par Excellence,
by Sonia de la Cruz Malavassi

Sonia de la Cruz offers a short commentary on the three books that have
earned Yadira Calvo the status of Costa Rica’s “feminist writer par excellence”:
La mujer, victima y cémplice (Women, Victims and Accomplices, 1981, now in
its second edition), Litemtura, mujer y sexismo (Literature, Women, and Sex-
ism, 1984), and Angela Acufia, forjadom de estrellas (Angela Acufia: Forging
Stars, 1989). The first book documents the rise and the philosophical under-
pinnings of patriarchy, with its patterns of male domination and female sub-
jugation. The second work examines twenty—seven centuries of famous writ-
ings in world literature that represent sexist ideology and thus perpetuate the
model of the subordinate woman. The third book is the biography of Angela
Acufia, the first woman lawyer in Costa Rica, who led the struggle for women’s
right to Vote, represented Costa Rica at the Organization of American States,
and is considered the first “self-conscious” Costa Rican feminist. Acufia com-
bined—c‘z la Tica (in true Tico style)——the characteristic of “not making waves”
with a persistent struggle for women’s empowerment.

The Women’s Movement and Feminism in the Arts 247

25 3% Feminist Visions
Four Women Artists in Costa Rica

Sally R. Felton

A considerable number of women are currently recognized as fine artists in
Costa Rica. Their works demonstrate technical expertise as well as thematic
exploration, abstract or figurative, and gain acceptance for their artistic merits,
without bias toward the creator’s gender. In this essay, after a short historical
overview of women as artists and their themes in Costa Rica, I sketch the
contribution four women artists are making to feminist visions in contempo-
rary Costa Rican art.

Historical Overview of Women in Contemporary
Costa Rican Art

Throughout colonial history and in the nineteenth century, Costa Rican art
closely followed European trends. Local artists copied European art styles—for
instance, effusive, highly expressive Baroque forms—without cultural affinity
to them. Moreover, Costa Rican men were discouraged from being artists—art
was seen as an “effeminate” profession—while women did art as a pastime.

At the end of the nineteenth century, the increasing prosperity from coffee
exports fostered an interest in the fine arts on a small scale, limited primarily to
oil or water color painting and stone or wood sculpture, as the technology for
other media remained unavailable.

Then, in the 1930s, local artists developed an interest in Costa Rican culture
and identity. Costa Rican landscapes, buildings, and lifestyles became pre-
ferred subjects. This constituted a “rebellion” in Costa Rican fine arts against
the traditional academic realism that Western culture inherited, through the
Renaissance, from Greece and Rome. Costa Rican artists instead portrayed
a sense of national identity and individuality. They also rediscovered pre-
Columbian indigenous motifs.

248

The change brought an upsurge of interest in the fine arts, which went hand
in hand with expanding technologies and options for artistic expression. The
number of people who chose to be artists grew. That growth also brought an
increase in the proportion of women painters, graphic artists, and photogra-
phers. Moreover, women became part of the vanguard in such related fields
as restoration, theater direction, dance performance and choreography, film
making, prose, and poetry. The extent of women’s talents and participation is
evident in the positions of eminence they have achieved as curators and mu-
seum directors, editors, and holders of office in the Ministry of Culture. Some
arts or crafts, such as textiles and ceramics, are predominantly feminine. These
media now enjoy a status comparable to the traditional fine arts, and this
recognition has allowed many more women to be incorporated into the circle
of creative artists in Costa Rica.

Two Recent Generations of Artists

Within this setting, over the last fifty years, roughly two active generations can
be distinguished in the pictorial arts. The first generation includes eminent
women such as Margarita Bertheau, Dinora Bolandi, Lola Fernandez, Sonia
Romero, and others who for several decades were influential artists working in
various media. Fiercely independent in her personal life, Margarita experi-
mented with water colors and frescoes. Dinora’s work ranges through geo-
metric landscapes, still lifes, and loving portraits. Lola is exploring innovative
stenciled textures, bas—reliefs, and figures. And Sonia pursues ever-evolving
styles of figures in her drawings. As professors at the Universidad de Costa
Rica’s Fine Arts Faculty, these artists have greatly contributed to the formation
of the second generation of artists, who are the focus of this article.

Changing Themes of Woman as Subject in Costa Rican Art

The view of woman as a subject matter in Costa Rican art has evolved through
a number of different stages. Since the Spanish conquest and throughout the
colonial period in Latin America, Costa Rica included, the image of woman as
a virgin martyr has reigned; it is still revered by many as the prototype of
female propriety. Colonial statuary—imagineri’a, an instrument of conversion
and maintaining the faith—retained the characteristic European “Baroque
gesture” of highly expressive movement, even though Aztec, Mayan, or Incan
artisans manufactured the works in the three great centers of Mexico, Guate-
mala, and Peru. During this period, women’s creative participation was limited

Four Women Artists in Costa Rica 249

to dressing the figures or to the great honor of donating their own hair to
crown the statuary. In nineteenth-century Costa Rica, itinerant portrait paint-
ers did occasionally paint some women’s portraits, but the view of woman
remained unchanged.

Only in the 1930s did another idealized. woman, the mother figure, appear.
Again, this theme was portrayed primarily in sculpture. However, as part of
the rebellion mentioned earlier, the female figure was redrafted. No longer a
Greco—Renaissance goddess, woman became representative of the burgeoning
middle class.

Two curious tendencies prevailed at that time. First, the woman’s figure
becomes distorted and stylized; the cranium shrinks while the pelvis is exag-
gerated, so that a rather pyramidlike figure emerges, tapering from a broad
base to a diminished intellect. Second, maternity becomes the theme of nu-
merous sculptures. These works characterize mothers as contented, expres-
sionless, reproductive vessels on the pedestal of maternal fulfillment. Some of
the works that include maternity in their titles portray animals with their off-
spring; in others, women’s depiction is inlayed with a moral animalism, por-
traying such instincts as the fierce protection of the child. Curiously, this
theme of woman as mother coincided with the epoch when Costa Rica’s fertil-
ity rate was among the world’s highest. Even forty years later, in the early 1980s,
with 121.3 births for 1,000 females of reproductive age, the Costa Rican fertility
rate was twice that of the United States, and three times that of West Germany
(U.N., 1984). And even in the 19805, maternity remained a theme favored by
many men sculptors, frequently in their designs for public monuments.

Today, a few male sculptors make their own statement in favor of a liberated
view of women. One exceptional piece is Crisanto Badilla’s Mujer que Avanza
(Woman Advancing), a stone carving of a woman on her knees yet moving
forward. Another is Mario Parra’s Mujer Sandinista (Sandinista Woman), a
suspended wood carving of a female guerrilla fighter with a semiautomatic
rifle, executed as a martyr.

Four Feminist Costa Rican Women Artists

Works that interpret women’s circumstances in Costa Rica from a feminist
viewpoint are relatively few. Although the theme is popular in other countries,
it is still only nascent in Costa Rica because the tides of change arrive here
several years later than in the northern hemisphere. The theme also confronts
a special challenge in Latin American society, with its cultural pattern of

250 Sally R. Felton

machismo (male domination of women). Nevertheless, some Costa Rican art-
ists, particularly women, are portraying a new image of women in their work.

Four women artists—Paola Pignani-Boncinelli, Ana Griselda Hine, Grace
Blanco, and loan Martha—have repeatedly explored aspects of the traditional
machista-dominated situation. In so doing, they have dared to confront the
status quo and to hold up a mirror to this society. I have chosen them not only
for the content of their works but also for their technical excellence and the
fact that their works can be appreciated in black—and—white reproduction.

Though the works of these four artists ably transmit their own messages, a
brief text accompanies the reproductions to clarify their intent. In some cases,
the artists comment on their own work; in others, I comment on the social and
artistic context.

Paola Pignani-Boncinelli

Paola Pignani—Boncinelli has pursued controversial themes portraying wom-
an’s enforced obligations, stereotypes, and inane diversions. Speaking about
her pastel Maternity (see exhibit 25.1), Paola said “TV and books give an image
of motherhood as an idyll instead of what I have observed as a responsibility,
so very intense” (pers. comm., October 10, 1989). Her Maternity stands in
sharp contrast with the earlier sculptures portraying woman as virgin, martyr,
or contented mother. It also conflicts with men’s outsider perspective on this
“natural fulfillment,” which to many sensitive women means a total transfor-
mation of their former life. Paola’s Maternity illustrates a taboo subject and has
therefore provoked considerable controversy. Its sincerity is courageous.

In her 1983 Self-Portrait (exhibit 25.2), Paola has rendered herself in subtle
tones, encircled by a dark vortex of scenes. From the lower left, clockwise, men
are gathered around a table, drinking in segregated bonhomie at the cantina.
Above them, the good wife and homemaker is incarcerated by jagged black
lines, an emphatic arrow pointing to her continuing engagement in domestic
tasks, which she carries out alone. Reclining above the head, a nude woman lies
ready to comply with the amorous obligations of matrimony, while to the right
she stands, according to Paola, “making a very specific Italian gesture . . . that

'3 ))

means ‘I don’t want anything like this situation in my life Finally, in the
lower right corner, “the roses are the end of the story—drawing,” the token
offered to the bride inlieu of the real commitment she deserves (pers. comm.,
January 30, 1990).

Paola is an intuitive feminist who responds in a voice resonating with

outrage over the social wounds that demand expression in her visual language.

Four Women Artists in Costa Rica 251

1. Paola Pignani—Boncinel1i, Maternity, 1982. Pastel on paper, 102 X 79 cm.; 40'’ X 31".
Collection of the artist.

 

2. Pejtéla.Pigi1ahi}B<§n§if1élli, Se.l?f-PVc)r.trcV1i%1A‘,‘1L98‘3.’  Ifiedifit fin  V X 5i  26 11/2”’

X 20'’. Collection of the artist.

Ana Griselda Hine

The next artist, Ana Griselda Hine, is here represented by etchings from a
series she executed in 1983 at the University of Cincinnati while on a Fulbright
scholarship. Exhibit 25.3 reproduces an etching she originally titled Pacer; she
translated it as Mujer en la Sala (Woman in the drawing room) which does not,
however, transmit the same clue to her intentions. But the image itself strongly
implies the direction she was then exploring. Ana Griselda expressed that
intent as “Loneliness, confinement, a woman who is looking for her inner self,
confronting in some way . . . obstacles.” Her works of this period are dark
interiors with “furniture in the way” (pers. comm., January 20, 1990). These
are claustrophobic seraglios in which the figures are trapped—not even a
window permits contact with the outside world. Pacer, like a caged tigress, is
stalking, striding to and fro in this reduced world—a slender woman, her
expression distressed.

Gemelas (Twins) is a title that supplements the scene in Exhibit 25.4 of a
“woman confronting herself,” her reflection in the mirror implying a dual yet

3. Ana Griselda Hine, Pacer, 19l85. Etching, 44.5 X 60 cm.; 171/2V”l >< 231/2”. Collection of El
Banco Central.

254 Sally R. Felton

4. Ana Griiseldail-Iine, Twins, 1983. Etching, 44.5 X 60 cm.; 171/2” >< 231/2". Collection of the
artist.

monotonous identity. The implication is “anguish, not vanity,” as she exam-
ines herself in the mirror. The placement of the furniture plus the angle of
perspective give a Vertiginous sensation, as if “everything wants to overcome
her” (pers. comm., January 20, 1990).

Ana Griselda’s etchings reflect her experience of the woman’s role in Costa
Rica. She says “more than anything, in Latin America, the mothers themselves
educate their male children differently from their daughters,” thereby en-
couraging and perpetuating machismo alongside female subservience (pers.
comm., January 20, 1990).

Grace Blanca

Grace Blanco, the third artist, wrote of the feminist movement in Costa Rica:
“The process is slow because it implies laying the foundation of new codes
beginning in infancy; in the home, the school, the society. The hope is that
future generations will settle into a human relationship that is more just and
agreeable” (pers. comm., February 6, 1990).

Grace is renowned for her figure drawings; precise yet fond drafting reveals
her devotion to her subject. “Now the center of my work is woman as a

Four Women Artists in Costa Rica 255

Alianza is the oldest women’s organization in Costa Rica. It provides a variety
of services. At its San Jose headquarters, it maintains a documentation center,
conducts leadership training with audiovisual materials, offers legal assistance,
and publishes a monthly newsletter and a great Variety of popular educational
materials.

The author, a member since 1969 and the organization’s president since
1989, demonstrates that—over time—struggles to solve the problems of poor
and working-class rural and urban women have turned the organization more
and more consciously feminist. She discusses the Alianza’s work against pov-
erty, social or domestic violence, and family disintegration, and for children’s
centers, women’s training, schools, community projects, legal support, and
land ownership by peasant women.

Most of the women with whom the Alianza works would not understand
the word feminism. Yet in their commitment to improving women’s lives,
building self-confidence, developing skills, involving women in community
action, and empowering them to make decisions for themselves and their com-
munities, they are part of the legion of Costa Rican women whose lives exem-
plify feminist consciousness and goals but who do not know they are feminists.

Women’s Liberation from Servitude and Overprotection,
by Carmen Naranjo Coto

In a different vein, Carmen Naranjo’s short essay, based on her book Mujer y
Cultura, emphasizes the time—worn, traditional techniques of patriarchy for
keeping women under control. The essay highlights the two cultural patterns
which, complementing each other, have been responsible throughout Costa
Rican history for women’s position in society: human servitude and patriar-
chal society’s overprotection. Both have imprisoned women in the “preor—
dained” task of housework. To liberate women is to offer them choices for
making decisions for themselves about their development, self—identity, and
vocation. .

In true Tica fashion, the author delivers her message in a seemingly under-
stated way. Yet Naranjo was one of the earliest participants in the debate
about the role of women. As minister of culture in the early 1970s, she created
the Centro Nacional para el Desarrollo de la Mujer y la Familia. In 1984
Naranjo, together with Alda Facio, Mirta Gonzalez, and Laura Guzman, three
theoretical—philosophical feminists, organized the well—known lecture series
Women and Society, which took place under the auspices of the Catedra Libre
Eugenio Fonseca (Eugenio Fonseca lecture series) that treats diverse topics at
the Universidad de Costa Rica (UCR) (University of Costa Rica).

4 The Varying Faces of the Women’s Movement

5. Grace Blanco, The Window Series, No. 2, 1982“. Pencil, ipo X 32 cm.; 15%" X
121/2”. Coleccion Corporacion L & S.

universal symbol of the energy that shelters life, fecund, constant, serene.” She
works in series of related Variations on a theme. The Window Series (Serie La
Ventcma) strikes a different note from her other series, a “surrealistic symboliz-
ing art” (Echeverria, 1983; La Nacién, Ancora, p. 4). The elements comprise a
View of a window seen from the outside; curtains or blinds are drawn in such a
way that the female nudes are headless, exposed torsos. This decapitation, with
its absence of intellect, is striking; we see just flesh without a face to portray
personality or identity. These women are objects, converted by “the daily
routine” into “furniture, window, fruit” (pers. comm., February 6, 1990).

256 Sally R. Felton

6. Grace Blanco, The WindowHSeries, No. 3, V1:9ié:3i2.iil5enc1l, 40 X 32 cm.; 15%” X
121/2". Coleccion Corporacion L 8c S.

In each of the two reproductions (nos. 2 and 3) from that series, the figure is
incorporated into the overall arrangement. The vegetable on the window sill in
The Window Series, No. 2, is a complete orb; the checkerboard projecting from
the blind is so dynamic that the figure retreats and is of less importance than in
traditional figure painting. In The Window Series, No. 3, the curtain and frame
are attached to the woman through her navel; the woman becomes an ac-
cessory, acting as anchor for the furnishings. If one sees The Window Series as
structured as a stage, with the curtain descending from the proscenium frame,
the female figures become scenery flats, a backdrop for the curtain itself.

Four Women Artists in Costa Rica 257

Iocm Martha

Joan Martha, the final artist presented here, is well known in Costa Rica for her
abstract paintings in color harmonies. She has created many collages but
recently has shifted from framed, wall-mounted pieces to what she calls “wear-
able art”—-pendants and earrings. Her work was included in the 1988 Amulets
of Power Exhibit at the Centro Cultural Costarricense Norteamericano (U.S.
Cultural Center) (pers. comm., February 2, 1990). She is presently painting a
series of portraits of women.

The works reproduced here represent one phase of ]oan’s artistic explora-
tions. The pen and ink drawings (see exhibits 25.7 and 25.8), done in 1983
during a period of difficult transition, are from a journal of spontaneous
images—“strokes which poured forth onto the paper . . . uncensored.” Collec-
tively they are facets of a self-portrait “composed of internal imagery” and
created in an unconventional and personal procedure: a “daily ritual, much
like meditation, and vital to my well-being, . . . a therapeutic outlet during a
period of intimate redefinition” (pers. comm., February 2, 1990).

“To these stream—of-consciousness drawings words appeared in the same
manner, clarifying the images and reflecting my feelings at the time.” An
expression of Ioan’s inner voice, these drawings are not calculated symbols; the
juxtaposition of image and word are revelations. After completing one draw-
ing she wrote, “The energy is up and buzzing”; after another, “Taking care of

7. loan Martha, “Grilling, skewering. Burnt Toast. . . Listen to your Timer!” 1983. Pen and ink,
14 X 19 cm.; 51/2” X 71/2". Collection of the artist.

258 Sally R. Felton“

8. loan Martha, “The heat paralyzes for the  A good weekend to reflect on
how to be with myself Try to slow down and do less activity,” 1983. Pen and ink, 22
X 15 cm.; 8%" X 6". Collection of loan Martha.

business without ever leaving the house. Surprisingly, unhasseled. A day of
accomplishments and feeling good.”

Joan dedicates much energy to exploring the spiritual side of her art; she is
active as a lesbian feminist, both in Costa Rica and the United States. Her
artistic work is the product of her progress.

Four Women Artists in Costa Rica 259

Feminist Women Artists in the Mother Role

I asked all of the artists I interviewed whether they had encountered any
discrimination in the “artists’ guild” because they were women; all responded
with a firm no. This has also been my observation. All four artists have chil-
dren. When we artists become mothers, our own artistic participation neces-
sarily changes. Our artistic careers, which in most cases demand full—time
attention, assume a lower priority while we are raising infants. Most mother-
artists feel the same: at this stage, until the child is older and more indepen-
dent, their child is their “work of art.” Grace Blanco described her dual com-
mitment to “two projects that require space, time, physical force, intellect, and
feelings. Personally, I’d say two creations, so human and Vital, each meriting full
time” (pers. comm., February 6, 1990). Male colleagues may not be able to
comprehend the mother—artist’s diminished production under these circum-
stances. Maternity, not as the subject of a piece of art but as an issue in the
woman’s own life, is a current all working mothers navigate, whatever their
profession. The women artists’ double commitment evokes for us Costa Rican
filmmaker Patricia Howell’s film of the late 1970s, Dos Veces Mujer (Twice a
Woman), which exposed the plight of mothers who were also factory or field
workers and the demanding responsibility of the Doble Iornada—the double
workday consisting of a full day of housework and a full day of work outside
the home.

Yet, an artist—mother has the advantage of flexible hours worked at home.
Paola Pignani—Boncinelli, for example, prepared an exhibition of drawings
that she executed while watching her crawling daughter—on duty, so to speak.
Of course, she had to modify her methods and materials, abandoning her easel
for the more portable format of work in pencil.

Reaching Beyond Costa Rica

The works of these four Costa Rican women artists—born of their own inti-
mate experience or of situations they observed——transcend the specifically
Costa Rican. Their images are significant beyond national or regional Central
American or even Latin American frontiers, because the essential woman
emerges, in protest or self—examination, to establish her new identity above the
morass of machismo. Worldwide today, all can share these Costa Rican women
artists’ images, their searching reevaluation of woman’s role, which they por—
tray through their art.

260 Sally R. Felton

Biodata

A painter, Sally R. Felton was born in Manhattan and studied in Philadelphia, Boston,
Florence, and San Jose. She completed a licenciatura in art at the Universidad de Costa
Rica. Since 1973, she has been lecturing about Costa Rican art history.

References

Bibliographic material on Costa Rican art history is quite limited. Besides a motley
collection of exhibition catalogs, personal interviews, and careful recordkeeping, I
relied on my more than twenty years of experience in Costa Rica. During those years I
have studied under, gone to school with, or otherwise befriended most contemporary
women artists.

Department of International Economic and Social Affairs. 1984. Demographic Yearbook
1982. New York: United Nations.

Echeverria, Carlos Francisco. 1983. “Una expresion contenida.” La Nacion, Ancora.
December 18, p. 4.

Acknowledgments

The author thanks the four artists for their time and permission to display their work;
Don Carlos Lachner Guier, collector and owner of La Coleccion Corporacion L & S, for
permission to reproduce Grace Blanco’s works; to Sally Campos, former curator of that
collection; to loan Martha and Luis Howell for photographing the works reproduced
here; and to Emilia Diaz André of the Centro Latinoamericano de Demografia
(CELADE) (Latin American Center of Demography) for help with research.

Four Women Artists in Costa Rica 261

26 32% Women and Love

Myths and Stereotypes in Popular
Songs Broadcast in Costa Rica

Sandra Castro Paniagua and Luisa Gongalves

Introduction

This study, a feminist content analysis of six popular songs, has two objectives.
The first is to share with other women our analysis of an element of daily life,
popular music, which quite innocuously contributes to the perpetuation of the
social inequality of women and men. The second is to demonstrate that these
songs, which members of the lower and middle working classes listen to and
sing, perpetuate myths about women as inferior beings of little value, thereby
strengthening the stereotypical domination—submission pattern of behavior
through which women and men relate.

Myths and Stereotypes: A Worldview

Communication media are important agents in the transmission of ideology
in all societies. Radio, television, books, movies, and other media transmit the
worldview of the culture and are responsible for the diffusion of many myths
and stereotypes.

The present study focuses on the worldview of male domination and female
subordination; men and women conform to this worldview by applying men-
tal categories through which they interpret their experiences (Afanasiev, 1983;
Goldmann, 1975). These categories lead them to construct or perceive their
social reality. The major elements that contribute to the formation of this
worldview are myths, beliefs about how social life ought to be organized, and
stereotypes, schematic, inflexible expectations about characteristics and be-
havior of people which produce certain behaviors in individuals (Mattelart,
Puccini, and Mattelart, 1976; Sawvy, 1962). Through socialization, women in-

262

ternalize the myths, obey the stereotypes, behave submissively in their daily
lives, and thus accept their inferiority in relation to men.

However, it must be acknowledged that myths always contain a bit of truth.
It is impossible “that a myth be based on pure lies,” as Alfred Sawvy observed
(1962: 49). He went on to point out that myths give relevance to facts humans
(in this case, males) want to stress, while they hide what to them is irrelevant.
Myths are perpetuated, as a rule, through pleasant messages that conform to
the ideology of the masses, such as our popular songs.

Stereotypes are fully as comprehensive as myths (Gaetano Cersésimo, as
cited in Camacho, 1974, p. 150). A stereotype almost always arises from a
pragmatic way in which people face reality. It is directly related to the extent of
conformism or criticism that society requires of or permits an individual
(Mattelart et al., 1976).

\/Vhen these observations are applied to male—female relationships in Costa
Rica, it becomes clear that what society presents as the idea of femininity is
linked to myths about women’s intuition and qualities like fragility, self-denial,
obedience, passivity, and resignation. These are the very characteristics that
affirm stereotypical domination-subordination—submission behavior, which is
clearly conceptualized in machista (male-dominant) society and is used to
justify the social discrimination experienced by women.

This stereotypical vision of women’s behavior is based on the dialectic of
master and slave. It produces the double conscience of the slave who on the
one hand must struggle to survive and on the other must find ways to do what
the master wants. This game of double conscience clearly describes the situa-
tion of the dominated person which, for women, is the negation of their own
being and their identity.

Content Analysis of the Songs

We used content analysis to study six selected songs. This technique requires a
qualitative analysis of the text of each song, followed by a summary and
assessment of the information. Content analysis allowed us to focus not only
on the domination—submission characteristics in the man—woman relation-
ship but also on the myths and stereotypes relating to women. We formulated
the questions with the intention of inquiring about an innocent topic such as
“love” as an indicator of Costa Rican perceptions about women’s role. Table
26.1 displays the elements of the content analysis.

Women and Love 263

Table 26.1. Elements of the Content Analysis

1. Who speaks? a woman, a man
2. Of whom does the person speak? of self, others, animals, a relationship
3. Of what topics does the person speak, of work, religion, love life, social
or in which categories do the topics relations, adventures, fantastic beings
fit?
4. To Whom does the person speak? to self, a special person, a group, an
animal
5. Characteristics of the language type of use, reiteration of myths or
stereotypes

The Myths and Stereotypes Contained in the Songs

The six songs were part of the Costa Rican “Hit Parade” of Radio Sensacion, in
October—November 1987. We selected six of the ten songs most often requested
during that period. The songs also appeared in popular song books at that time.

Table 26.2 summarizes our analysis. In five of the six songs, the woman
speaks; the man is the speaker in only one. All six speakers talk about them-
selves and their partners; two address the audience, the other four the partner.
All six speakers refer to their affection for the partner, whereas only two of the
six touch on other subjects, such as religion, nature, time (i.e., past and fu-
ture), and social life. The language is repetitive, emotionally charged, and
points to the myths and stereotypes the songs portray.

Given the small size of our sample, we cannot generalize. But we can point
out the ideological messages that strengthen the myths and stereotypes about
love and about women’s role. Doing so, we will refer to some of the theoretical
elements we presented earlier.

We assessed the messages of the songs in terms of four analytical categories:
Two categories represent myths about the man-woman relationship and the
meaning of love; the other two represent stereotypes of the male role and
personality and of the female role and personality.

The Man—Woman Relationship

C In Latin America, the man-woman relationship is one of permanent inequal-
ity. The man, the dominant partner, imposes his worldview. Marriage becomes

264 Sandra Castro Paniagua and Luisa Gongalves

Table 26.2. Content Analysis of Six Popular Songs

Who Characteristics of the

Title Song Speaks Of Whom To Whom Topics Language

“Ella” (She) a man a woman, radio affection, repetitive; destructive rela-

himself listeners home tionship with himself
and with her

“El Pecado” a a man, a man affection, self-reproach, guilt,

(The Sin) woman herself religion, remorse, self-
social life punishment; woman as
victim; religious feel-
ings of sin; destructive
attitude toward life

“De Mi Ena— a herself, a a man affection, monologue; woman’s de-
morate” woman man religion, pendence; relationship;
(Fall in social life loss of identity; pas-
Love sivity; Woman exalts
With man; belief in destiny
Me)

“El Hombre a a man, a man affection, reiterates: women and
de Mi woman herself nature, pain, submission, de-
Vida” destiny pendence; idealizes
(The man; love = destiny
Man of
My Life)

“Sera, Sera” a a man, a man affection, imperative language; im-
(It Will woman herself, nature, age of stereotypical tra-
Be) others time ditional woman;

passivity, submission

“Por Culpa a herself, radio affection, repetitive; destructive rela-
de El” (It woman others, listeners love, tionship; present de-

Is His a man past, stroyed by past; guilt
Fault) future personified by other;

dependence in love

1 %% Different Times, Women, Visions
The Deep Roots of Costa Rican Feminism

Yadim Calvo Fajardo

The roots of feminism in Costa Rica can be traced back to women who claimed
the right to be individuals even though their behavior failed to conform to the
standards that custom considered suitable for a woman of their era. The next
stage of feminism included women who defended democratic rights, although
these rights applied only to men and not to the women themselves. This period
was followed by one in which Women consciously demanded their own rights
as citizens. Today, the feminist movement encompasses women who with
increasing awareness insist on freedom from domination and freedom to
participate in all spheres of life.

Nineteenth-Century Unconventional Women:
Precursors of Feminism?

Considering the invisibility of women in Costa Rican history, it is not surpris-
ing that we know amazingly little about some highly unconventional women
who lived in the nineteenth century and who, by today’s standards, would be
considered feminists. Knowing so little, we wonder what caused them to dis-
obey the rules of behavior of their time. Here are the stories of two of such
women.

Manuela Escalante, considered the “first feminist” of Costa Rica, died on
May 26, 1849. At her death, the lavish praise of the nation’s press converted her
into a new “wise woman,” in the style of Moliere. Her obituary in El Costa-
rricense (cited in Acufia, 1969, 1: 113) lets us imagine her in the drawing room of
her illustrious family’s home in the city of Cartago, holding the center of
attention during gatherings of high society, surrounded by political emigrés
famous for their intelligence and wisdom.

At such gatherings, Manuela displayed her great learning, showing her
knowledge of forms of rhetoric “from antithesis to prolepsis, from apostrophe

a career or profession for women. It legitimizes the domination—subordination
relationship, the ideal man-woman relationship in which she is occupied with
domestic life, husband, and children. As the woman in “El Hombre de Mi
Vida” (The Man of My Life) says, “Tu eres mi suefio desde ni171a”—You have
been my dream since I was a girl.

The Meaning of Love

Love is the central theme of the songs. In Latin American culture, the idea of
love is intimately linked with women. Love occupies a priority position in their
lives, becomes a female practice, and, in many cases, leads to a cancellation of
the woman’s role in politics and culture. The woman-love relationship stems
from the patriarchal nature of Costa Rican society. In the songs, love becomes
relevant for women in relation to a man. In the unequal relationship that
results from this love, the woman loses her identity. “When I saw you, I lost
myself,” from “De Mi Enamorate” (Love Me); “In my head, you are the only
one, nobody else,” from “De Mi Enamorate”; “He destroyed my soul, my
being, and then he left,” from “Por Culpa de El” (It Is His Fault). The woman
realizes herself through loving and serving a man; matrimony represents eco-
nomic, social, and “emotional” stability. The following fragments illustrate:
“With my pure love I will protect you. It will be an honor for me to devote
myself to you,” from “De Mi Enamorate”.

The Male Role and Personality

In the five songs in which the woman speaks, the man appears as the central
theme in relation to love. He is the idol, and from that position he passes to
being the central focus of all female suffering and dreams. “You are the essence
of severity and strictness,” from “El Pecado” (The Sin).

The Female Role and Personality

In patriarchal society the mass media transmit a series of beliefs about what
a woman must be. One of these beliefs is that women are less intelligent
than men: “I am coquettish, timid, deceitful, and a woman,” from “Sera, Sera”
(It Will Be), and “I am no longer going to be the stupid one,” from “El
Pecado”.

All songs uphold the myths about the womanly personality-dependent,
self—sacrificing, sentimental, and submissive—and about the loss of female
identity.

266 Sandra Castro Paniagua and Luisa Goncalves

The Message of Social Inequality

In the end, we agree with Costa Rican writer Carmen Naranjo (1989), who calls
uncovering myths “a step toward getting to know the situation of women who
are not yet free from the weight of cultural tradition.” One of the objectives of
this analysis was to decipher the messages transmitted by certain popular
songs that conceptualize women as sensual, soft, and loving objects. This
message supports a continued domination—submission relationship that has
existed for centuries. We hope to stimulate reflection and debate about the
occurrence of this message in the apparently innocent situations described in
popular love songs. We also confirm that the message transmitted by those
songs portrays women according to the traditional stereotype of what it means
to be a woman, and what a woman’srelation to love is. The female prototype
that these songs reaffirm is that of a woman who is totally submissive to the
man of her dreams, who has no will of her own, and who lacks the capacity to
live without the love she has waited for. Conversely, the songs reinforce the
stereotype of the strong man, strict and severe, who is able to protect “weak”
women.

Love in the six songs in our study is something marvelous, and rose colored.
These songs represent women as constantly searching for love. With their
emphasis on repetition of the same text, the messages tend to envelop and
soothe the listener.

In sum, the norms and beliefs expressed in these songs differ for the two
genders; they stress the preeminence of men and the inferiority of women.
Similarly, the idea of love they express also means something different for each
gender. For men, love is just one more activity in life, and in it a woman
becomes the man’s property. For women, love means denial, sacrifice, and
submission. It entails a woman’s full surrender to the other being and her
forgetting about her own self—interests.

The songs reinforce our understanding that masculine domination and
the popular conception of love translate into men’s power and control over
women. Any struggle women undertake must consider the distribution of
power in Costa Rican society.

Biodata

Sandra Castro Paniagua is a Costa Rican and holds a licenciatura in sociology from the
Universidad de Costa Rica. She did graduate work in Women’s Studies at the Centro

Women and Love 267

Interdisciplinario de Estudios de la Mujer (CIEM) (Center for Interdisciplinary Wom-
en’s Studies), now the Instituto de Estudios de la Mujer (IEM) (Institute for Women’s
Studies), at the Universidad Nacional. Castro now teaches Methods of Investigation at
UNA and works as a consultant with APROMUIER. Earlier, she participated in the
research project “Women and Community Health” at the Universidad de Costa Rica.

Luisa Goncalves is a Brazilian living in Costa Rica. She holds a licenciatura in
pedagogy from the Universidade Federal do Rio Grande do Norte (Federal University
of Rio Grande do Norte) in Brazil and graduated with a degree in sociology from UNA,
Heredia. She did graduate work in Women’s studies at CIEM, now IEM. She is currently
working on a master’s degree in agricultural extension at the Universidad Estatal a
Distancia (UNED) (State University for Extension Studies) in San Jose, with a focus on
women’s issues.

References

Afanasiev, Victor. 1983. Manual de filo5ofz’a, 2nd ed. México: Editorial Cartago de
México.

Cersosimo, Gaetano. 1974. “El estereotipo de comunista como instrumento de poli-

tica.” In Daniel Camacho, La dominacién cultural en el subdesarrollo. San Jose, Costa

Rica: Editorial Costa Rica.

Goldmann, Lucien. 1975. Para una sociologia de la novela, 2nd ed. Madrid: Editorial
Ayuso.

Mattelart, Armand, Mabel Puccini, and Michel Mattelart. 1976. Los medias de comuni-
cacién de masas. La ideologia de la prensa liberal, 3rd ed. Argentina: El Cid Editor.

Naranjo, Carmen. 1989. Majer y cultura. San Iosé, Costa Rica: EDUCA.

Sawvy, Alfred. 1962. “Mythes et mirages économiques.” Cahiers internationaax de 50-
ciologie 32 (]uly—December): 49-65.

268 Sandra Castro Paniagaa and Luisa Gongalves

27 ii? Yadira Calvo
Costa Rican Feminist Writer par Excellence

Sonia de la Cruz Malavassi

Yadira Calvo’s writings are an integral part of Costa Rican feminism. The
following reviews comment on the progression of ideas in Yadira Calvo’s work
to show that, while inspired by Western tradition and thought, this feminism is
beginning to focus on its own essence and history. '

La mujer, victima y cémplice (1981)

In her earliest book, La mujer, victima y cémplice (Women: Victims and Ac-

complices), Yadira Calvo presents a well—reasoned argument about the rise of
patriarchy, showing how it permeated social institutions to form a culture of
masculine omnipotence and feminine subjugation. She illustrates how pa-
triarchy perpetuated this unjust system with the help of mythologies, religions,
and “scientific” concepts based on deceit. She goes on to explain that, even
today, many women believe in the truth of those fallacies and “in all sincerity
convert themselves into accomplices of their oppressors” (1981: 8). The author
then delineates the ways that prejudices and beliefs throughout history con-
verted themselves into “truths” or, worse yet, dogmas that have persisted into
the twentieth century.

Blaming the Victim

Calvo pursues the theme that for millennia, androcentric thought has blamed
women for all evil and has attributed to itself all that was positive. Males
assigned to women the forces of irrationality and created Pandora and Eve, the
causes of evil in the world, as archetypes that have served as an excuse for men’s
domination of women throughout history.

This intricate ideological net has been woven with many strands, among
them the stereotype of women’s submission. From it arose, as a logical conse-
quence, the archetype of maternity and the dogma of purity, which allows the
male to legitimize his descendants. Corollaries of the dogma of purity are the

269

sin of adultery and the promotion of prostitution, both of which ensure “social
morality” at the same time that they provide for the sexual satisfaction of
the male.

The writer gives a comprehensive overview not only of the punishments
meted out to adulterous women over time but also of the religious and cultural
justifications on which they were based. “All of the societies we know that lived
under a patriarchal regimen established far more cruel punishments for adul-
terous women than for criminals, while polygamy was acceptable for hus-
bands,” Calvo asserts (1981: 116).

The Origin

From this patriarchal origin rose the traditional conception of the family as a
fertile ground in which the seeds of sexual segregation thrived. It encouraged
hostility among the sexes and resulted in the typical master-slave relationship.
The author argues that the concept of family “must be modified so that it stops
rooting humanity in a slavery that induces the male to maintain a false idea of
his own high value and status, and the woman to accept the misleading idea of
her dependence and inferiority” (1981: 9).

It is not surprising, Calvo says, that after millennia of patriarchal ideology
focusing on women’s anatomical qualities, the value of women has become so
distorted that they are willing to accept an arrangement in which their security
and happiness depend on sexual attractiveness. She adds that it is remarkable
that biological differences, which are not inherently disadvantageous to either
sex, have been used as the basis for the creation of social factors that create
more powerful effects than the biological differences themselves.

Political Rights and Social Conditioning

If women have not enjoyed minimal human rights inside the family, they have
enjoyed even fewer outside of it. The author analyzes feminist struggles for
political equality——specifica1ly for the right to vote—over the last two centuries.
She adduces reasons why few women are in positions of power in societies
where women have such rights. “We can easily see how a woman who dedi-
cates her life to procreation and housework will have no chance to participate
in other spheres of life, which signifies an unbelievable segregation” (1981: 98).

Sabjagated Intelligence

Given the configuration described earlier, it does not appear at all strange that
this ideology would be based in part on the suppression of female intelligence.

27o Sonia de la Cruz Malavassi

“The most efficient way to dominate others is to deny them the opportunity of
cultivating their spirit. Just as women were obliged to be artificially beautiful,
so they had to conform by being artificially dumb,” Calvo states, adding that
such widespread convictions tend to maintain sexual segregation, the most
persistent form of discrimination today (1981: 125).

Calvo’s reasoning shakes hallowed conceptions and beliefs and challenges
us to reflect, to take a stand on a phenomenon that is intimately linked with
our culture.

Literatura, mujer y sexismo (1984)

Three years after the publication of La mujer, victima y cémplice, Calvo consid-
ered diverse manifestations of sexist ideology in an exhaustive analysis of
famous writings in World literature in her Literatura, mujer y sexismo (Litera-
ture, Women, and Sexism). “The reality we have faced from Homer until today
reflects a society in which the feminine is subordinated to the masculine,
identified respectively by deficiency and excellence,” she asserts (1984: 13).

The individuals she analyzes belong to literary creations spanning twenty-
seven centuries. Their authors hail from the Greek, Latin, Nordic, English,
Spanish, and French cultures, all of them part of Western civilization. “Litera-
ture,” states Calvo, “has transmitted a model of femininity that abides by the
rules of the sexist ideology from which it emerges, and whose permanence is
assured by great authors and their works, through the educational power of

art” (1984: 13).

The Feminine in the Genesis of Western Culture

A reinterpretation focusing on four women of antiquity, Penelope, Medea,
Deyanira, and Clytemnestra, heroines of works by Homer, Euripides, Sopho-
cles, and Aeschylus, constitutes the first chapters of this book. These characters
appear in works written before the Christian era, in the culture that brought
forth Western civilization.

From a gender perspective, Calvo analyzes the personalities in whom an-
cient writers of twenty—seven centuries ago embodied an archetype of the fem-
inine that is still alive in contemporary culture. “Penelope, undistinguished,
without profile, prototype of womanly virtue, together with Medea and Deya-
nira, symbolize a marginalized, passive, ahistoric, subhuman, suffering femi-
ninity, which Christianity sanctified” (1984: 14).

Clytemnestra also provides a moral example, but a negative one—her re-

Yadira Calvo: Feminist Writer par Excellence

271

bellion and opposition to the system are fruitless. She must pay for having
gone beyond her role as wife and self—denying mother, for her independence of
character, her courage in facing her own actions, and her capacity to make
decisions. Clytemnestra assumes complete responsibility for her deeds and is
castigated, a lasting lesson for humanity.

Centuries Thereafter in the Graeco-Latin Perspective

From Homer and the tragic Greeks, Calvo moves to the second century of the
Christian era and Graeco-Latin culture. There she examines the story of Psyche
and Cupid, which is included in The Golden Ass, a picaresque novel by Apulius.
Psyche is characterized by a faintheartedness harmful to her own will; when-
ever she obtains something against her husband’s wishes, it turns bad. She is an
antiheroic heroine. When she wants to know reality, she loses the well—being
she enjoyed in ignorance, and she wins only when she learns how to obey.

Again, in another time and space, curiosity and initiative on the part of
women are punished and ignorance and submission are rewarded. Many cen-
turies have passed in vain as far as sexism goes, Calvo notes, because the figure
of Psyche is a twin of the feminine symbols transmitted by the Greek epics and
tragedies.

From Spain, Centuries Later

History goes on. More than thirteen hundred years later, in Spain, Fernando
de Rojas writes his tragicomedy Calixto and Melibea. Calvo analyzes Melibea,
the young girl seduced by Calixto, and the other woman, capable, shrewd
Celestina.

Like Greek tragedies, this work portrays the double face of femininity within
the masculine system of values—honorableness, personified by the girl, and
shamelessness, embodied by the procuress. For a woman to be honorable, she
must be ignorant and live removed from the world that surrounds her, above
all the world of sexuality. From the writer’s perspective, Melibea is a faithful,
true representative of the honorable woman in search of the best offer she can
find in the marriage market. She has been educated for the subjugation of
which she will become victim as a “natural” consequence of her sex. On her
count, Celestina is the shameless one, the prostitute, the independent, the wise
one—and, therefore, the sinner who, of course, does not represent the feminine
ideal.

In Calvo’s reinterpretation, Melibea matures as she faces society. Suicide is
for her a supreme act of liberation; she is meeting her lover and with her death

272 Sonic: de la Cruz Malavassi

she is overcoming the prejudices of her era. W'hat Fernando de Rojas intends
as an instructive message to the female sex is for Calvo an example of female
self—determination.

An Individual Meets Herself After Three Centuries

Two female figures follow each other, as if they were parts of one and the same
person, though they belong to two different epochs and societies: Catherine, of
Shakespeare’s Taming of the Shrew, in siXteenth—century England, and Nora, of
Ibsen’s Dollhouse, in Norway during the last century.

The two embody the history of women in inverse processes of submission
and liberation. Catherine, autonomous and self—assured, is transformed by her
husband into a model of docility and submission, whereas Nora begins to
acquire power as she becomes aware that she too is a human being, as Calvo
says, “defined by the same terms, and . . . she recognizes herself as a parasite,
living off the dance she performs to flatter her companion” (1984: 104).

An Obligatory Interlude

Between Shakespeare’s England and Ibsen’s Norway falls Moliere in seven-
teenth—century France, who begins and ends his dramatic production with Les
Précieuses Ridicules (The Afifected Young Ladies) and Les Femmes Savantes (The
Blue—Stockings). In these works, Moliere ridicules educated, learned women
and denigrates them by presenting them as hateful, vain, and petulant. This, of
course, is meant to keep the female gender from the error of preferring knowl-
edge to ignorance. Moliere mocks intellectual women because for him intellec-
tualism and pedantry are the same when women are involved. Thus, Bélise,
Armande, and Philaminte remained forever immobilized in caricature, a
warning to women who do not conform, as Henriette does, to living in happy
ignorance in limbo.

A Fitting Digression
To close, no character is more appropriate than the figure of Don Juan Te—
norio, by Tirso de Molina, Spaniard of the seventeenth century. Calvo notes,
“Tirso invented one of the great literary symbols of virility, defined by ar-
rogance and aggressiveness on the one hand, and by amorous infidelity and
domination of women on the other” (1984: 122).

In Calvo’s view, Don Juan lacks national definition. He is nothing but the
product of a social organization that equates human values with virile male
values, a victim of a milieu that deems masculine violence an attribute of

Yadira Calvo: Feminist Writer par Excellence 273

natural selection and that cannot see relations between men and women in
terms other than that of hunter and prey.

Ostracism

Calvo’s gender perspective allows her reader to see Western culture corrupted
by patriarchy. Without fanaticism, in clear, direct style, and with a certain
mischievousness, she leads the reader on a pilgrimage to literary sources of
Western civilization to demonstrate how concepts of masculinity and feminin-
ity became charged with sexist ideology.

Literatura, mujer y sexismo invites reflection and debate about twenty—seven
centuries of myths and stereotypes that are based on an unjust social ortho-
doxy, in which women have been mutilated by culture and the true nature of
the feminine has been ostracized.

Angela Acufia, forjadora de estrellas (1989)

In 1989, Calvo’s Angela Acufia, forjadora de estrellas (Angela Acufia: Forging
Stars) was published. It is the life story of the woman who personifies the
beginning of feminism in Costa Rica. Calvo is moved by the desire to recon-
struct from the inside the will of a woman who never gave up; if she seemed to,
it was only to begin anew at another place.

To construct an excellent biography, a writer must accumulate all the facts,
scrutinize them, examine their relevance, and reintegrate them into their living
context. Calvo achieves this. One must appreciate her talent for managing the
language and her capacity as an investigator.

Angela Acufia, an indefatigable pioneer, graduated from a secondary school
for boys which she had to attend in order to qualify for admission to law
school. In 1913, she began to study law and was the first woman to opt for that
career in Costa Rica. Graduating with honors, she became Costa Rica’s first
woman lawyer. Her fight enabled future generations of women to study law
and to become lawyers as well as to hold other important posts in the Costa
Rican legal system.

Acufia, however, made her real mark leading the fight of Costa Rican
women for the right to vote, a goal she did not achieve until June 20, 1949,
when she was sixty-two years old. She was a tireless woman. As ambassador of
Costa Rica, she was the first woman to occupy a seat in the Organization of
American States (OAS), where she was also a member of the Human Rights
Commission. She was selected as Woman of the Americas by the Union of

274 Sonia de la Cruz Malavassi

American Women, an organization that recognized her as “feminist, educator,
true leader, and great Pan—American” (1989: 213).

With this work Calvo proposes to reestablish the name of a woman who
earned an honorable place among the founding fathers and mothers of Costa
Rica. Acknowledging Angela Acufia’s deeds will stimulate Costa Ricans to re-
vise national history and include the other half of our people who were always
present but always ignored. Calvo’s work should be required reading for those
who wish to know Costa Rican culture and the women within this culture.

Biodata

Sonia de la Cruz Malavassi, a Costa Rican, has an M.S. in television production from
Syracuse University in New York, which she completed under a Fulbright fellowship.
She is a journalist and a television producer, and she was a professor and deputy
director at the Escuela de Ciencias de la Communicacion Colectiva (School of Mass
Communications) of the Universidad de Costa Rica. She is now chief of the Division
de Comunicacién (Communications Division) of the Instituto Interamericano de
Cooperacion para la Agricultura (IICA) (Inter-American Institute for Cooperation in
Agriculture) .

References

Calvo, Yadira. 1981. La mujer, victima y cémplice. San Jose, Costa Rica: Editorial Costa
Rica.

——. 1984. Literatura, mujer y sexismo. San Jose, Costa Rica: Editorial Costa Rica.

——. 1989. Angela Acufia, forjadora de estrellas. San Jose, Costa Rica: Editorial Costa
Rica.

Yadira Cali/0: Feminist Writer par Excellence 275

The Costa Rican Women’s Movement

to personification” (Acufia, 1969: 1). When she was not reciting the eclogues of
Garcilaso, the odes of Fray Luis, the songs of Herrera, or The Moral Epistle of
Rioja, she was discussing metaphysics, practicing rhetoric, or challenging the
latest findings in geology. In short, learned gentlemen gaped in surprise when
they met Manuela. Her erudition and poise were truly exceptional during a
century in which Costa Ricans believed that to safeguard their chastity, girls
should never handle pencils (which were tools for intellectual pursuits), or
have access to mirrors (which would reveal to them their own beauty), or
approach windows (which might give access to potential lovers).

Of Manuela’s learning there is no doubt, but was she a feminist? The answer
to that question is more difficult to establish. Whether she was inhibited be-
cause of a respect for the restrictions placed on women’s pursuits or was simply
too busy because of her desire to learn, Manuela apparently did not record her
beliefs and views—at least nothing written by her has yet been found. Apart
from the reports of her vast erudition, we know nothing of her except that she
was a kind of scandalous figure for her time because of her intellectual gifts
and that she died a “spinster” at age twenty-six (Acufia, 1969: 1).

Even if Manuela was not a feminist in her thinking, she at least was a woman
who lived her life in frank opposition to what was expected of women of her
time. For this alone she deserves a prominent position in the history of the
Costa Rican feminist movement, for ‘she was isolated and unrivaled in her
century. Manuela is also a symbol of the loneliness and near—anonymity in
which the lives of women evolved in Costa Rican history.

Next to the image of Manuela in high society rises that of a weatherbeaten
woman of the people—Pancha Carrasco (Acufia, 1969: 1). In 1856 Pancha
enlisted as a cook in the Costa Rican army of President Juan Rafael Mora to
fight against the invasion of William Walker, who attempted, with U.S. back-
ing, to convert Central America into a territory with slavery (see Obregon,
chap. 7 below). Although it was most unusual during the 1850s, this simple
woman could read and write, and she served as President Mora’s secretary
(Calvo, 1991b). Tempted more by the smoke of combat than by the hearth’s
fire, she abandoned her cooking pots in Rivas, southern Nicaragua. Gathering
munitions for the combatants in her apron and verbal threats for the enemy in
her mouth, she went into battle.

In the Battle of Rivas on April 11, 1856—a glorious date in Costa Rican
annals—Pancha and a German doctor simultaneously shot at an enemy soldier
who was manning a cannon. With his battle companions, the soldier fled from

6 Yadira Calvo Fajardo


VII gig THE CONSTANTLY EVOLVING
STATUS OF WOMEN)S STUDIES

Costa Rican publications in women’s studies

THIS SECTION FOCUSES on the development of women’s studies programs in
Costa Rica and then presents a few research analyses from this complex field.
The process of legitimizing and institutionalizing women’s studies in Costa
Rica’s academic world has been slow and sometimes difficult. After an infor-
mal beginning, the process consolidated itself over time until, in the early
1990s, after arduous battles with the academic bureaucracy, women’s studies
acquired legitimacy and finally became formally institutionalized.

If one considers legitimate women’s studies to be only those academic
programs that give credit and confer degrees, then Costa Rica reached that
stage in the fall of 1993, with the inauguration of a joint master’s program in
women’s studies—Maestria Conjunta en Estudios de la Mujer—at the Univer-
sidad de Costa Rica and Universidad Nacional. However, if activities such as
open courses, lecture series, workshops, and research into diverse women’s
issues on the basis of a gender perspective are also acknowledged as legitimate
practice of women’s studies, then Costa Rican universities have been involved
in such an academic endeavor since the early 1980s.

The process is continuing with great vigor. The first four articles in this
section reflect the situation in 1992. Since then, important modifications of
programs, procedures, and personnel have occurred, but they have been build-
ing on the initial philosophy and infrastructure and often even on the initial
financing. In some cases, anticipated financing did not materialize and well-
developed research agendas ground to a halt. But the momentum, the drive to-
ward women’s studies and gender-focused research continues strongly vibrant.

From CIEM to IEM: The Consolidation of Women’s Studies at the
Universidad Nacional, by Cora Ferro Calabrese

Cora Ferro details the growing acceptance of women’s studies at Costa Rica’s
Universidad Nacional where initial advisory services and workshops changed
to free courses, including graduate courses, under the auspices of the Centro
lnterdisciplinario de Estudios de la Mujer (CIEM) (Center for Interdisciplin-
ary Women’s Studies). A full—fledged academic graduate program for a mas-
ter’s degree in women’s studies began operation in the fall of 1993. It is carried
out jointly by the two largest universities of the state university system, the
Universidad de Costa Rica and the Universidad Nacional. Ferro reports the
change from CIEM to Instituto de Estudios de la Mujer (IEM) (Institute of
Women’s Studies), a change much more than just in name. The word Instituto
in local academic usage denotes an interdisciplinary program, here of women’s
studies, that is integrated into the permanent organizational structure of the
university.

278 The Evolving Status of Women’s Studies

The underlying philosophy of IEM is that social transformation can take
place only if IEM’s teaching, research, and extension work go on in part-
nership with the women who experience the hardships of the Central Ameri-
can economic recession and if this academic work employs a gender-based
theoretical and methodological approach. The article also illustrates the mis-
sion of state universities——beyond teaching, research, and publications into
action-oriented extension work——through the Casa de la Mujer (Women’s
House). The Casa de la Mujer offers counseling, consulting, and training
services to women’s grassroots organizations and to individual women.

Gender Studies at the Universidad de Costa Rica, by Laura Guzman Stein

Laura Guzman’s chapter reminds me of a discussion I had at a meeting of
Costa Rican social scientists in 1984. VVhen I used the word gender, nobody
understood the term’s intended new social science meaning, whereupon I
suggested that my Costa Rican colleagues might want to familiarize themselves
with the important new definition of this term. Only four years later, in 1988,
an informal gender studies program, Programa Interdisciplinario de Estudios
de Género (PRIEG) (Interdisciplinary Gender Studies Program) was estab-
lished at the Universidad de Costa Rica, and the term gender was everywhere.

Laura Guzman describes PRIEG’s many informal activities in teaching,
research, publications, and extension work. She also discusses the planning at
that time for the recently inaugurated joint UCR/ UNA master’s program in
women’s studies. She further notes that PRIEG hosted the Quinto Congreso
Internacional Interdisciplinario de la Mujer (Fifth International Interdisci-
plinary Congress on Women) on the UCR campus in February 1993. This is
just one example of the wide international networks of cooperation and infor-
mation exchanges that indicate the growing interest in women’s studies and
gender studies in Costa Rica and the integration of new conceptualizations and
insights from women’s studies into general university teaching, research, pub-
lications, regional and international meetings, and scientific cooperation as
well as outreach into social action, planning, and policy making.

CSUCA’s Approach to Women’s Studies and Its Projected Program in
Central America, by Helga Iiménez

Documenting a similar international connectedness in women’s studies, with a
focus on a program serving all of Central America, Helga Iiménez describes the
activities of the Consejo Superior Universitario Centroamericano (CSUCA),
which was instrumental after the mid—198os in promoting women’s studies at
seven state universities in six Central American countries. After a severe cut-

The Evolving Status of Women’s Studies 279

back in the operations of CSUCA in early 1992 because of administrative and
financial problems, CSUCA was forced to pull out of women’s studies for the
foreseeable future. New academic enterprises are, however, stepping in. One,
for example, is the recently established Instituto Latinoamericano de Investiga-
cion Feminista (ILIFEM) in San Jose’.

Timely, Relevant, Trustworthy, Precise, Ongoing: Toward a Gender-in-
Development Information Network, by Mafalda Sibille Martina

Mafalda Sibille reports on the development of an information network that
will give researchers and policy makers access to truly appropriate information
on women. She favors “gender-in—development” data, arguing that differen-
tiating customary statistics by gender is insufficient; it is imperative to collect
information of particular relevance to women. Central Americans must coor-
dinate and integrate this information according to appropriate categories,
developed through a gender perspective.

Sibille describes the four phases in the creation of the Red Nacional de Infor-
macion sobre Mujer y Desarrollo (National Information Network on Women
and Development) at the IBM at Costa Rica’s Universidad Nacional. She details
the network’s initial determination of cooperating organizations and the na-
ture of the desired information, the elaboration of a gender—based theoretical
framework for the collection of appropriate information on women in de-
velopment, the creation and national distribution of information, and the
future regional extension to other Central American countries. The report is
based on the author’s several years of experience with the creation of the
national network.

Women’s Presence in the University: The Case of the Universidad Nacional
in Heredia, by Matilde Lopez Nufiez  

Part VII closes with three examples of women—focused research. In the first of
these, Matilde Lopez examines the position of women in the hierarchy of the
Universidad Nacional for the period 1982 to 1987. During that time period,
women constitute a substantial proportion of students and professors at the
university, but they are most heavily represented in the lowest echelons of the
university’s bureaucratic structure and do not regularly ascend into power
positions. Women represent about two-fifths of all administrators, for exam-
ple, but they are heavily overrepresented among secretarial and office workers
and librarians and are underrepresented in upper—level positions. Interestingly
enough, however, the president of the Universidad Nacional from 1989 to 1995
was a woman, Rose Marie Ruiz Bravo.

280 The Evolving Status of Women’s Studies

The study, which differentiates among academics, administrators, and stu-
dents, is part of a larger quantitative investigation that eventually will be
included in a regionwide analysis of all Central American state universities.

Problems of Ioint Interdisciplinary Research in Women’s Studies:
An Effort to Integrate Disciplines for More Fruitful Analysis, by Margarita
Brenes Fonseca, May Brenes Marin, and Sandra Castro Paniagua

Outlined in this reading are problems Margarita Brenes, May Brenes, and
Sandra Castro encountered in their interdisciplinary feminist research on the
occurrence of depression in Costa Rican women. Each participant in the joint
project represented a different discipline (anthropology, psychology, and so-
ciology). Their interaction convinced them that research partners in inter-
disciplinary work must make deliberate efforts to accept different disciplinary
preparations and perspectives to avoid friction that might undermine valuable
projects. The authors also caution against territorialism when areas of exper-
tise overlap, citing examples from their own experience of setting parameters
for their respective expertise, and learning to understand one another’s techni-
cal vocabulary. They conclude that “our challenge is to manage our differ-
ences,” so as to “develop an integrating science.” Their findings raise serious
questions about the appropriateness of current medical diagnoses and treat-
ment of depression in Costa Rican women.

The Predictability of Cesarean-Section Births: A Case Study of Students in
Costa Rican Childbirth Classes, by Jennifer Kozlow-Rodriguez

Drawing on her experience with 375 students in her childbirth education
classes, Jennifer Kozlow-Rodriguez discusses the excessive incidence of
cesarean—section births in private maternity clinics in San Jose. Based on her
research, she developed a prediction process that identifies the relative effects
of nonmedical factors predisposing women to cesarean versus natural births.
The author found that five main factors affect pregnant women’s desire for a
nonmedicated or a medicated birth and influence the women’s susceptibility
to cesarean—section births.

The study is an outgrowth of an earlier study, in which the author explored
cultural differences that seemed to produce a disparity between the birth
outcomes of foreign women and local women in her classes. From data in that
study, she concluded that the same tendencies in local women’s experiences
that made them more susceptible to medicated births also caused them to
experience a higher rate of cesarean—section births.

The Evolving Status of Women’s Studies 281

28 %% From CIEM to IEM

The Consolidation of Women’s Studies
at the Universidad Nacional

Cora Ferro Calabrese

In 1976, members of the faculty of the Humanities Division of the Universidad
Nacional began an advisory service for women’s organizations and groups of
women about to form organizations. Through this service we learned about
women’s needs and aspirations in their daily lives. In 1986 we organized UNA’s
first course about women’s problems for professionals who were working with
women’s programs. The response was excellent. We became known and devel-
oped expertise. VVhen we created the Centro Interdisciplinario de Estudios de
la Mujer (CIEM) in 1987, we already had gained a national reputation. On
June 21, 1991, CIEM celebrated the inauguration of the Instituto de Estudios de
la Mujer (IEM), which converted the temporary CIEM into a permanent
institutional structure within UNA, and the first such institution within the
Costa Rican state university system (Universidad Nacional, 1991). The event
signified UNA’ s recognition of the legitimacy of and permanent need for wom-
en’s studies.

Today, IEM operates with a multidisciplinary team of seven professionals,
who deal with women’s studies through the academic disciplines of communi-
cations, history, informatics, philology, psychology, sociology, and theology.

As a creative nucleus, IEM coordinates academic programs and research on
women and their problems. It bases its work and its principles of operation on
experiences with organized women who provided crucial insights into wom-
en’s true concerns. Three basic principles guide IEM’s work:

1. The determination to join forces with other institutions to make rational use both
of human and financial resources and of within-country experiences;

2. The decision to ensure that women—especially those women who suffer most from
the sudden effects of economic recession——are always active partners in IEM’s ef-
forts and principal beneficiaries of those efforts;

282

3. The conviction that IEM does not start its work from ground zero but can build on
the accumulated experiences of national, Latin American, and universal historic
processes.

These three principles require IEM to assess its successes and difficulties, to
open new paths, and to struggle to obtain space in the public domain for the
academic discussion of problems women face. This means that IEM must
make a concentrated effort to demystify ancient prejudices that have isolated
women.

Economic Recession from a Women’s Perspective

Thematic Priorities

Implementing the principle that IEM does not start from ground zero, IEM
accepts four thematic priorities set by researchers of the Network MUDAR/
DAWN, Red de Mujeres por un Desarrollo Alternativo (Development Alterna-
tives with Women for a New Era), a Peruvian organization of hemispheric
importance and influence, whose theoretical posture local academics and
practitioners accept. These thematic priorities, which guide the analysis of
the impact of the economic crisis on women’s lives are (a) the comparative
impact of alternating periods of economic growth and recession on patterns of
female and male employment (including unemployment, area of work, num-
ber of working hours, labor status, and income); (b) the effect of the eco-
nomic crisis on household units and families; (c) public policies regarding
women; and (d) the relationship between the economic crisis and women’s
movements.  

The Overall Goal and Ways of Reaching It

IEM will participate creatively and systematically in the development of an
interdisciplinary archive of information for the study of women’s problems in
all spheres of our national life (Alvarado, Ferro, and Duran, 1991). IEM’s
participation will take the form of specialized teaching, integrated research,
participatory extension services, and, finally, the development of information
services for women (see Sibille, chap. 31 below).

SPECIALIZED TEACHING

Women’s need to assert their presence as active participants in the history and
society of Costa Rica must be recognized and must constitute the basis of

Consolidation of Women’s Studies at the Universidad Nacional 283

scientific knowledge about women, for the acceptance of this knowledge, and
for its integration into the scientific process. From this perspective, IEM pro-
poses to offer courses based on the concept of gender. These courses will focus
in particular on Costa Rican women’s reality but will also consider the reality
of Central American and Latin American women in general.

Since the creation of CIEM in 1987, the consolidation of women’s studies
according to these guidelines has progressed in response to the demand for
graduate courses and the prestige CIEM/IEM acquired through its scientific
work. This progression has culminated in a master’s—degree program in wom-
en’s studies jointly undertaken by IEM and the Universidad de. Costa Rica’s
Programa Interdisciplinario de Estudios de Género (PRIEG) (see Guzman,
chap. 29 below). A

Graduate courses offered by CIEM/ IEM in the years 1986 through 1992 have
included Psychotherapy of Women, Women’s Problems, Violence Against
Women, Psychotherapy of the Family, Women and the Family, Women and
Power, Women and Development: A Comparative View, Women in History:
From Invisibility to Visibility, Women and Self—Esteem, Women and Their
Relationships, Women and Natural Medicines, and Women and Communica-
tion. Courses at the undergraduate level were Women and Economics, Women
in Decision-Making Positions: Managerial Communications, Women and Re-
ligious Communication, and Women in Society.

IBM has also offered workshops on relevant topics in national and Central
American development, such as Women Facing Life and Law, Women and
Social Communication: In Search of a New Discourse, and In Search of Our
Identity: Contributions of Psychoanalysis, Theater and Bodily Expression, and
Popular Narrative.

INTEGRATED RESEARCH

In view of the traditional androcentric slant of science that has treated women
as tangential objects of study, IEM supports an alternative option that defines
women as a central analytical theme. This option regards women as a legitimate
subject of scientific inquiry and underscores the theoretical-methodological
requirements of carrying out such studies.

To respond to the challenge required by this option, IBM has initiated a
series of concrete steps in short—, medium—, and long—term research, which will
permit researchers to accumulate experience and evaluate results, with the
intention of confirming the proposed alternative option. Projects in process as
of this writing include the following:

284 Cora Ferro Calabrese

1. Research to identify the political dimension of the psychosocial realm and of inter-
personal relations, both considered social and public dimensions withintwhich
women are active. Some projects now under way are Women in Costa Rican His-
tory—From Invisibility to Visibility: A Contribution to the sooth Anniversary of
the Discovery of America; Costa Rica: Women in Positions of Power, 1948-1989;
A Qualitative Analysis of Women’s Presence in the State Universities of Central
America; Women in Positions of Power at the Universities; Women in Positions of
Power at Banks; and Women in Positions of Power in the Executive Branch of the
Government.

2. Research to reveal women’s ongoing participation in people’s struggles, such as
movements of workers, pacifists, religious groups, ecological groups, and all those
who claim a right to live and participate. Topics of some current research include
Women, Housing, and Production; Biological Gardens—Women to the Rescue of
the Ecological Equilibrium; and Women, Religious Reality and Communication.

3. Research that offers conceptual and operational support for criteria to redefine
national policies on women in health, education, employment, income generation,
and others. Relevant projects are Women in Household Units; Discrimination in
Access to Institutional Resources; and Evaluation of Policies in Support of Women.

PARTICIPATORY EXTENSION SERVICES

This is a sphere in which social transformation occurs. The transformation
process depends on a reciprocal relationship between IEM and the women in
the community. In this relationship the real needs of women’s daily lives
inspire IEM’s academic work, and IEM reciprocates by carefully administered
extension services. Through these IEM guides women to become agents of
collective transformation or social change.

To achieve this transformation, IEM has established the Casa de la Mujer,
which is located on the Omar Dengo Campus of UNA in Heredia and is espe-
cially receptive to women of the Costa Rican national community. At the Casa,
they can obtain information, education, and support on everything that relates
to their daily lives and their participation in the national development process.

Moreover, IEM has to date generated the following periodical publications:
the quarterly bulletin UNA—MU]ER, several anthologies, and the journal Casa
de la Mujer.

Conclusion

The relevance of a project is directly related to the importance of the problem
it addresses and the creativity of the responses it proposes. Through its teach-

Consolidation of Women’s Studies at the Universidad Nacional 285

the shots, leaving the cannon behind. Amid cheers, Pancha was carried in
triumph on the shoulders of her companions. Though her actions were con-
firmed by veterans of the 1856 action, no mention of the incident appears
anywhere in the documents of the time——another instance of the cloak of
invisibility with which historians have shrouded women.

In February of 1857, Pancha was present when Costa Ricans destroyed four
steamships of the enemy on the San Juan River. There she worked at the
bedside of soldiers sick with cholera, helping to give comfort and dignity to
their deaths. During this time she also compiled lists of the dead and tran-
scribed messages, news, and orders of the president.

After the war, President Mora decorated Pancha with a medal for heroism.
When she died thirty-four years later, she received the military honors of a
general at her funeral, attended by high dignitaries of government and church.

Although neither ever heard of feminism, both of these intrepid women-
young Manuela Escalante in her high society drawing room and forty—year—old
Pancha Carrasco with her apron loaded with bullets—dared to transgress the
limits imposed on women of their time. Their actions encouraged a later
generation of Costa Rican Women who, still without any gender conscience,
joined with men in public protests in the early nineteenth century. These
protests were not in pursuit of their own rights but were an effort to safeguard
institutions from which only men would benefit.

Women Defending Institutions That Excluded Them

In their battles for others, women in the first decades of the nineteenth century
defended the freedom of the press at a time when they themselves barely
aspired to the right to read and write (Junta de Proteccién Social, 1989). Later
in that century, in 1889, women turned out again, this time to defend men’s
right to vote; much time and effort would still be required before women
themselves would be permitted to vote. Led by teachers, women returned to
the streets in 1919, protesting a government coup even though Federico Ti-
noco, the deposed president, still wanted to fire married women teachers
because he deemed them impure. In 1943, in response to a new threat to the
legalization of men’s vote, women again united with them in a public demon-
stration under the cry of freedom. Their action was decisive in turning the
course of events, but their own right to vote continued to be denied even by
those for whose rights they had demonstrated. Four years later, in 1947, thou-

Diflerent Times, Women, Visions 7

ing, research, and extension activities, IBM is addressing the theme of women
with professionalism and is efficiently generating answers to the questions
arising from Costa Rican Women’s complex reality.

Biodata

Cora Ferro Calabrese is also a co-author of “Women in Colonial Costa Rica,” which
appears earlier in this Reader (see chap. 6) and carries with it her biodata.

References

Alvarado Boza, Maria Luisa, Cora Ferro Calabrese, and Vilma Duran Iiménez. 1991.
“Seminario de evaluacion y programacion.” Mimeo. Heredia: Universidad Nacio-
nal, CIEM.

Universidad Nacional. 1991. “Hoy fue constituido el Instituto de Estudios de la Mujer.”
Press release, June 21. Mimeo. Heredia: Universidad Nacional.

286 Cora Ferro Calabrese

29 $l% Gender Studies
at the Universidad de Costa Rica

Laura Guzman Stein

The Women’s Decade, declared by the United Nations in 1975, called attention
of international organizations, national governments, and society in general
to the problem of discrimination and oppression against women. In 1979,
the U.N. General Assembly approved the Convention on the Elimination of
All Forms of Discrimination Against Women, which Costa Rica ratified on
March 4, 1984.

The Universidad de Costa Rica (UCR) participated in the process this con-
vention initiated. Like its Latin American, North American, and European
counterparts, UCR sponsored during the Women’s Decade a large number of
courses, research projects, conferences, seminars, extension projects, theses,
and lectures about women and gender problems. Slowly, an academic nucleus
evolved as a basis for developing women’s studies as a discipline, for challeng-
ing the androcentric prejudices characteristic of the sciences in general, and
for reconceptualizing from a women’s perspective dominant theories, meth-
ods, and interpretations.

As this process continued throughout the late 1970s, the need arose to
integrate the diverse activities in research, teaching, and social action at the
university. This finally culminated in 1987 in the creation of the Programa
Interdisciplinario de Estudios de Género (PRIEG) (Interdisciplinary Gender
Studies Program) within the UCR Division of Social Sciences. In 1988, PRIEG
was confirmed as a permanent priority program and attached to the office of
the vice rectory of academic affairs.

The push for women’s studies at UCR is not accidental. As an autonomous
institution of higher education, comprising a teaching, administrative, and
student community, UCR is dedicated to contributing to the achievement of
social justice, the nation’s overall development, and the complete freedom and
total independence of the Costa Rican people, as expressed in Article 3 of the
UCR Statutes (UCR, 1989). This mission obligates the university to bring

287

about in Costa Rican society changes that eliminate existing inequalities be-
tween men and women.

The Mission of PRIEG/UCR

As a university institution, PRIEG is charged with producing and disseminat-
ing qualitative and quantitative information about women and gender prob-
lems; with improving university services to university women (teachers, ad-
ministrators, and students) as Well as to women outside the university through
extension programs (through courses and community service); and with pro-
viding professional practice and the obligatory social service required of grad-
uating students. This requirement consists of three hundred hours of commu-
nity service performed in a variety of governmental and nongovernmental
institutions and is usually performed during the three—month summer vaca-
tion from December through February.  

PRIEG contributes to analyzing the subordination of women, and to identi-
fying more egalitarian alternatives and a more acceptable social structuring of
relations between women and men. This orientation obligates PRIEG to the
following:

1. Contributing to consciousness raising about the situation of women in Costa Rica
and promoting egalitarian gender relations;

2. Promoting policies at UCR to eliminate discrimination against women;

3. Supporting academic projects that address the essential social and ideological di-
mensions of discrimination against Women;

4. Fostering the creation and application of feminist theory and methodology in in-
struction, research, social action, and student life, in order to generate projects that
analyze the status of women in Costa Rica and promote women’s full development;

5. Promoting the publication of studies containing findings that are compatible with
PRIEG’s objectives;

6. Collaborating with national and international universities, institutions, organiza-
tions, and feminist groups that agree with PRIEG’s objectives.

In keeping with its interdisciplinary nature, PRIEG is directed by a faculty
commission representing diverse fields (social sciences, humanities, engineer-
ing, mathematics, law, and health sciences). It includes teaching and admin-
istrative staff and students from academic departments interested in joining
the program and strengthening women’s studies; the staff also includes visiting
professors from institutions with which the UCR maintains agreements of
exchange.

288 Laura Guzman Stein

Components of PRIEG’s Program

PRIEG is involved in teaching, research, publications, regional and interna-
tional cooperation, and outreach programs.

Teaching

PRIEG’s teaching has taken various forms. First among its teaching programs,
beginning in the spring of 1989, was the Women’s Forum lecture series for the
academic analysis of women’s problems. Since then, PRIEG has sponsored
specialized courses on various topics related to gender studies for teaching
personnel and professionals. Taught by Costa Rican or foreign specialists, the
courses have attracted teachers, researchers, leaders of women’s organizations,
and graduate students.

Regular UCR teaching programs also focus attention on women’s problems.
Among these programs are the required introductoryseminars on “The Na-
tional Reality,” and the seminars of the lower level General Studies Program in a
Variety of academic disciplines, such as anthropology, sociology, social work,
psychology, communications, political science, law, education, nursing, medi-
cine, economics, architecture, and nutrition. As a result, many students have
chosen topics relating to women for their required research in undergraduate
or graduate courses. However, the greatest challenge for PRIEG is the new mas-
ter’s program in women’s studies, initiated in the fall of 1993, which brings to-
gether PRIEG and UNA—IEM in a project of continuous academic cooperation.

Research

PRIEG supports research on women in UCR research centers, divisions, or
departments. Thus PRIEG is cooperating with various UCR institutions in
research sponsored by the vice rectory of research on such topics as “Women
Transmitting Ideology and Popular Culture in Poor Urban Neighborhoods”
and “The Impact of Participation in Women’s Income-Generating Groups on
the Status of Women.” In cooperation with Arizona State University’s Depart-
ment of Women’s and Family Studies, PRIEG is involved in a comparative
study, “The Impact of the Family on the Quality of Life of Elderly Women,” for
which the two universities signed a cooperative agreement in August 1989. At
the UCR regional center in Guanacaste, in the northwestern Pacific coast
region, PRIEG acts as consultant for the creation of a field research pilot
program, which later will be extended to other regional centers.

Research on women’s problems has grown in quantity and quality as a result

Gender Studies at the Universidad de Costa Rica

289

of renewed interest of research institutes and faculty. Since 1981, the Instituto de
Investigaciones Sociales (Institute of Social Research) has conducted the
.Women and Society program. The Instituto de Investigaciones Psicologicas
(IIP) (Institute of Psychological Research), the Instituto de Ciencias en Nutri-
cion y Salud (Institute for Nutrition and Health Sciences), the Centro de
Investigacion de Tecnologia en Alimentos and the Instituto de Investigaciones
en Ciencias Economicas (Institute of Economic Research) are pursuing various
research projects, either directly or indirectly related to women’s problems.

In fact, many academic units have carried out research on women or are in
the process of doing so. For example, during the academic year 1992-93, forty-
five research projects on women received funds from UCR. PRIEG is produc-
ing an inventory of research completed and in progress, which will be made
public through the Red Nacional de Informacion sobre Mujer y Desarrollo
(National Information Network on Women and Development) (see Sibille,
chap. 31 below). An assessment by the university’s vice rectory of research
indicates that from 1982 to 1989 research on women grew by 13 percent.

The last few years have also seen an increasing number of graduation proj-
ects or theses on the topic of women. PRIEG has advised students and thesis
advisers and is hoping to systematize this activity for major impact.

Publications

Two UCR journals have dedicated issues to women. Kanina, a humanities
journal, dedicated one issue (1985, 9, no. 2); Revista de Ciencias Sociales (Jour-
nal of Social Science), a social science journal, devoted three issues to this topic
(1977, October, no. 14; 1983, October, no. 25; 1988, March, no. 39). A fourth
issue is to come out in late 1994, and a fifth one in late 1995. PRIEG supports
such initiatives for sharing research on gender and women nationally and
internationally.

Regional Central American and International Activities

PRIEG has participated in various courses offered by the Consejo Superior
Universitario Centroamericano (CSUCA) (Council of Central American Uni-
versities) at the regional level (see Jimenez, H., chap. 30 below). With CSUCA,
PRIEG coordinated further training for teaching and research. The studies
“Quantitative and Qualitative Analysis on Women’s Presence in Central Amer-
ican Universities” (see Lopez, chap. 32 below) and “Women in Community
Health,” as well as a workshop with Central American participants on women
and violence, resulted from the joint effort.

290 Laura Guzman Stein

Internationally, PRIEG is taking advantage of women’s studies expertise of
various U.S. universities with which UCR has agreements. With these institu-
tions PRIEG has organized seminars and workshops addressing women’s is-
sues. In 1990, for example, the following workshops were held: Women and
AIDS, The Medicalization of Women’s Health, and Grant Writing and Fund-
ing. In 1991, the list included Women in History, Women in Politics, and a
teleconference on Women and AIDS, with the participation of the women’s
studies‘ programs of Arizona State University of Tempe, Arizona, and the
Central American universities affiliated with CSUCA. With some cooperating
institutions, such as the State University of New York at Albany and Arizona
State, existing. programs are being expanded. This is particularly true with
regard to the effort that went into developing the master’s program, in which
UCR and UNA began to cooperate in the fall of 1993 (see Ferro, chap. 28 above,
and Iiménez, H.).

Outreach Programs

In social programs, UCR has developed initiatives with projects such as the
obligatory social service of graduating students, training programs for leaders
working with women in governmental and nongovernmental organizations,
and extension courses to train UCR personnel who work with women. PRIEG
has tried to organize these efforts in such a way that women become active,
completely integrated participants. Projects for training instructors in this
respect, as part of PRIEG’s social action program, meant a significant change
in the approach to work with women.

PRIEG has promoted several training projects for personnel who offer ser—  
vices to university women; the goal of these projects is to improve all university
employees’ understanding of women’s needs and interests. One project pro-
vides training for the staff of student counseling offices on issues of sexual
harassment, rape, and domestic violence. Another assists academic depart-
ments in formulating policies on sexual harassment. In addition, through its
Women and Culture project, PRIEG offers activities that raise participants’
consciousness that women transmit culture in many ways—offering extension
courses to nonuniversity women about women as cultural subjects, seeking
to spread the theoretical and methodological advances on gender, and pro-
moting artistic, scientific, and popular activities that portray women as active
producers.

In February 1993, PRIEG hosted the Quinto Congreso Internacional Inter-
diciplinario de la Mujer (Fifth International Interdisciplinary Congress on

Gender Studies at the Universidad de Costa Rica 291

Women) on the UCR campus. Two thousand women attended the Fourth
Conference, at Hunter College in the United States in 1990, and a similar
number of women from more than seventy countries attended the Fifth Con-
gress at UCR in 1993. PRIEG/ UCR brought out the proceedings, “Memoria del
Quinto Congreso Internacional e Interdisciplinario de la Mujer,” in late 1995.

Biodata

Laura Guzman Stein is also the author of “Reconceptualizing the Theory of Women in
Organizations,” which appears earlier in this Reader (see chap. 24) and carries with it
her biodata.

References

Congreso Universidad de Costa Rica. 1990. Comisiérz: La mujer universitaria. San Jose,
Costa Rica: Universidad de Costa Rica, Oficina de Publicaciones.

Universidad de Costa Rica. 1989. Estatuto organico de la Universidad de Costa Rica. San
Jose, Costa Rica: Oficina de Publicaciones.

292 Laura Guzman Stein

30 %% CSUCA’s Approach to
Women’s Studies and Its Projected
Program in Central America

Helga Iiménez

From 1948 to 1992, the Consejo Superior Universitario Centroamericano
(CSUCA) (Council of Central American Universities) worked to achieve re-
gional integration for the activities of the state universities of the six member
countries: Costa Rica, El Salvador, Guatemala, Honduras, Nicaragua, and Pan-
ama. Believing that culture has a liberating effect, the organization coordinated
studies of regional problems and furthered academic cooperation between
member institutions in teaching, research, extension work, and publications.
During its operation, CSUCA’s base was in San Jose, Costa Rica, but its pro-
grams took place in all member countries, which together served approx-
imately 2oo,ooo students as of the early 19903.

Women’s Studies Program

In 1988, as a result of a pilot project aimed at developing women’s studies at all
Central American universities, CSUCA created a Regional Women’s Studies
Program. Through additional instruction, practical training, and research
projects, CSUCA worked to enhance and consolidate recently established pro-
grams, such as the Programa Interdisciplinario de Estudios de Género (PRIEG)
(Interdisciplinary Gender Studies Program) (see Guzman, chap. 24 above) at
the Universidad de Costa Rica, the Centro Interdisciplinario de Estudios de la
Mujer (CIEM) (Center for Interdisciplinary Women’s Studies) now the In-
stituto de Estudios de la Mujer (IEM) (Institute of Women’s Studies) (see Ferro,
chap. 28 above) at Costa Rica’s Universidad Nacional, and others that grew
directly out of the CSUCA pilot project, such as the women’s studies commis-
sions at the universities of El Salvador, Honduras, Nicaragua, and Panama and
at the University of San Carlos in Guatemala.

293

The overall goal of CSUCA’s program was to improve the situation of
women and to increase gender equality through social change. CSUCA’s work
contributed to undoing the social construction of gender inequality and the
pattern of subordination and domination of women. CSUCA supported
efforts to rethink gender relations, to establish and advance feminist theories
and methods of analysis, and to introduce gender into the analysis of social
and political problems (Beneria, 1989).

Women’s Studies Program Activities

CSUCA’s Women’s Studies Program sponsored projects and activities in in-
struction, research, extension work, and publications. Through this sponsor-
ship, CSUCA honored the traditional mission of Latin American universities,
which—beyond higher education, research, and publications—are committed
to serving the population at large—in this case, the female population (Jime-

nez, 1990; 1991).

Instruction

Given that teaching is a university’s principal educational function, CSUCA
began its work with a pilot project of instruction. The goal was to train more
than 25o teachers and researchers so as to enable them to create and spread an
awareness of Women’s problems, together with specific knowledge and ade-
quate theoretical and methodological skills, to further develop and consolidate
Women’s studies in Central America. Over the years 1988 through 1990, the
project included six courses, which were taught at the graduate level in various
member countries. The courses were Theory and Methodology of Women’s
Studies; Rural Women; Women and Habitat; Women in the Informal Urban
Sector; Violence Against Women; and Research on Women with a Gender-
Focused Methodology. Participants were university teaching personnel and
other professionals.

The courses aroused great interest not only in academic circles but also in
governmental and nongovernmental agencies, institutions, and organizations
working with women. Participants recognized Women’s studies as a scientific
discipline that enables them to develop the critical analysis they needed for
their work with women. Moreover, the courses created a multiplier effect as
university administrations became supportive of Women’s studies at their in-
stitutions. The courses consolidated the theoretical approach for work at the
member universities and with the base communities that the universities serve.

294 Helga Iiménez

With the development of a critical mass and the increase of specific research
on women in the Central American region, CSUCA hoped to support the
establishment of a regional, interdisciplinary program for a master’s degree in
gender studies, based on the experiences of the program being developed
jointly by the Universidad de Costa Rica and the Universidad Nacional, which
in fact began operating in the fall of 1993 (Ferro, and Guzman).

Research

CSUCA carried out several research projects focusing on gender analysis at the
regional level. One such project——in three stages——was “A Quantitative and
Qualitative Analysis of Women’s Participation in Central American Univer-
sities.” The first stage was identifying the proportion of women among (a) all
students, by fields of study, and all graduates and those who failed to complete
their studies; (b) administrators; ( c) teaching personnel; and (d) the university
hierarchy. The study’s second stage was analyzing the role and issues of gender
in these groups. The third stage was describing sexism in the university struc-
tures. The overall goal of this study was to further the participation of women
in all phases of university careers and activities through the promotion of
changes in the academic policies.

CSUCA also sponsored sixteen research fellowships on the topics of women
and health, women and work, women and power, and women and social
organization. In addition, it conducted a regional investigation of women’s
participation in community health programs to explore the effect of gender on
health policies and health programs.

Extension Activities

Other efforts by CSUCA focused on integrating women into activities they
avoided in the past. CSUCA, together with the ministries of science and tech-
nology and of education, sponsored a course, Mathematics for the Family, in
Costa Rica. CSUCA’s plans also called for the creation of a Central American
Information Network on Women in Health, in cooperation with the Organi-
zacién Panamericana de Salud (OPS) (Pan—American Health Organization)
and the Centro Latinamericano de Demografia (CELADE) (Latin Ameri-
can Center of Demography). For the project, CSUCA trained technicians in
gender—focused" analysis.

A further project was consolidating women’s studies documentation and
information at Central American universities, on the basis of the pioneering
work of the envisioned future Red Centroamericana de Informacion sobre

CSUCA’s Approach to Women’s Studies 295

sands of women held a protest march when democratic liberties were threat-
ened even though, once again, those liberties could be exercised by men only
(see Sharratt, chap. 8 below).

Women Fight for Their Own Rights

During the nineteenth century and up until the middle of the twentieth, Costa
Rican women supported male citizens’ political freedom and their right to
vote. The explicit fight for their own rights dates only from the twentieth
century, and it moves slowly from a clamoring for general civil rights to a focus
on political rights, primarily the vote. On July 19, 1914, Angela Acufia aroused a
storm When, in one of her first public actions at the Sociedad Federal de
Trabajadores, she referred to Costa Rican women’s right to work. Acufla, then
a student at the Universidad de Costa Rica, was pioneering a struggle that
would be greeted with jeers and contempt in the newspapers of the country.
Journalists made jokes at her expense and exuded ill will when she succeeded
in having the Civil Code changed in 1916; the code was revised to permit
women lawyers to carry out all functions of the legal profession except that of
being notaries (which required the lawyer to be an active, i.e., voting, citizen).
Nevertheless, the measure stood and she remained firm in her conviction; her
next goal would be the political rights of women (Calvo, 1989: 79ff; 1991a: 21).

Several years of frustration and failed attempts convinced Angela Acufia of
her need for allies. In the 1920s, support was growing throughout the Western
world for women’s claim to their voting rights (Portugal, 1991). On October 12,
1923, Angela founded the Costa Rican Liga Feminista (Feminist League) as a
subsidiary of the Liga Internacional de Mujeres Ibéricas e Hispanoamericanas
(Iberian and Hispano—American Women’s International League) in Madrid
(Acufia, 1969, 2: 353). With that, the first serious steps in the struggle for
women’s rights had been taken. As president of the Feminist League, Acufia
initiated action with a care that seemed almost timid, requesting the president
of the republic, Julio Acosta, to give women the right to vote in the coming
elections (Calvo, 1989: 102).

In the same year, the Fifth International American Conference met in Chile.
Although all the discussants were men, the members adopted a resolution that
future conferences should study the means of abolishing constitutional and le-
gal restrictions on women’s political rights. Then, during the sixth conference
in Havana in 1928, which is now remembered as the first International Ameri-
can Conference to allow women to speak, Doris Stevens, a North American,

8 Yadim Calvo Fajardo

Género y Desarrollo (Central American Gender-in—Development Information
Network) at the Universidad Nacional’s CIEM, now IEM (see Sibille, chap. 31
below). Beginning in September 1990, CSUCA offered a series of teleconference
courses, with interaction by speakers and participants from Central America
(Guatemala, El Salvador, Honduras, Nicaragua, and Costa Rica) and Panama.

I Publications

CSUCA also produced various publications, primarily anthologies, course
bibliographies, a book on women in Panama, and a special issue on women of
the journal Estudios sociales centroamericanos (1989). In collaboration with the
Universidad de la Paz (University of Peace) outside San Jose and the Facultad
Latinoamericana de Ciencias Sociales (FLACSO) (Latin American School of
Social Sciences), CSUCA also published Mujeres centroamericanas, vol. 1, Ten-
dencias estructurales; and vol. 2, Efectos del conflicto (Women in Central Amer-
ica, Vol. 1., Structural Tendencies, and Vol. 2, Impact of the Conflict; 1989).

Future Projections

In early 1992, because of serious administrative and financial problems, the
forty-four-year—old educational institution of CSUCA was reduced to a skel-
eton operation. However, all women’s studies activities under way at the time
of the reduction were completed in 1992. CSUCA will not head the program in
the future. However, the Council of Central American Universities at its meet-
ing in March 1992 declared women’s studies as a priority for future academic
activities.

CSUCA’s experience with women’s studies has shown the serious need both
for an institutional and operational platform for scholars and other interested
individuals and for a feminist approach to the knowledge of social problems.
In response, scholars and concerned women created the Instituto Latinoame-
ricano de Investigacion Feminista (ILIFEM) (Latin American Institute for
Feminist Research) not only to guarantee the continuity of the work in wom-
en’s studies begun by CSUCA but also to expand the scope of that work. By
1993, ILIFEM had become operational on a small scale. Its activities are slowly
expanding in response to demands by institutions and individuals interested
in continuing the work CSUCA began.

Throughout the activities for expanding women’s studies in the region, we
who participated were aware that we were witnessing the rise of a new Central
American feminism. Beyond our excitement over the emergence of this move-

296 Helga Iiménez

ment, we see two challenges: First, this new feminism must respond to the
needs of all the people in the region through cooperation among all member
countries, integration of program ideas and mechanisms, and the free sharing
of know—how and resources. Second, and more important, the new Central
American feminism must respect and nurture the diversity among the mem-—
ber countries’ historical, cultural, ethnic, and even economic and political
characteristics. Through such respect and nurturance, the rich uniqueness of
each Central American society will remain healthy and alive.

Biodata

Helga Iiménez has studied philology and letters in England, Costa Rica, the Philip-
pines, and Germany. She completed a Ph.D. in literature and linguistics at the Univer-
sity of Santo Tomas in Manila, the Philippines. A professor of Latin American Studies
at the Free University in Berlin from 1975 to 1984, she was sent by the German govern-
ment to CSUCA in 1984 to work as an expert in assessing research and training
programs. The lack of formal women’s studies at the Central American member uni-
versities led her to develop a multifaceted women’s studies program at CSUCA, the first
regionwide women’s studies program in Central America that involved academic in-
stitutions in all countries of the region. The goal was to train staff and raise conscious-
ness on women’s issues throughout the Central American region. She is now executive
director of ILIFEM.

References

Beneria, Lourdes. 1989. Evaluacion del proyecto CSUCA—UNIFEM “Estudios de la
Mujer en Centroamérica.” Mexico: Naciones Unidas, PNUD/UNIFEM.

Iiménez, Helga. 1990. Final report, Reunion Tripartita de Evaluacion Naciones Unidas
(PNUD/UNIFEM), Gobierno de Costa Rica, CSUCA. Proyecto de estudios de la
muj er en las universidades centroamericanas. San Iosé, Costa Rica: Subprograma de
Estudios de la Mujer, PNUD/ NU, CSUCA.

——. 1991. “Los estudios de la mujer y su insercion en la educacion superior de Cen-
troamérica.” Estudios sociales centroamericanos/ESCA 55 (]anuary—April): 15-24.

Acknowledgments

The members of the women’s studies commissions in the participating universities of
the Central American region with their personal engagement and support were instru-
mental for our carrying out CSUCA’s Women’s Studies Program. Special thanks go to
Ligia Delgadillo of CSUCA, without whose competent assistance the program would
not have become a reality.

CSUCA’s Approach to Women’s Studies 297

3 1 %% Timely, Relevant,
Trustworthy, Precise, Ongoing

Toward a Gender-in-Development
Information Network

Mafalda Sibille Martina

The creation of policies to advance the well—being of Central American women
is frequently hindered by a lack of appropriate information about them. In
addition to often being inaccessible because of technological or resource lim-
its, the available information is partial, inconsistent, nonspecific, and inap-
propriately conceptualized. It is not categorized by gender, urban versus rural
residence, or age, and it persists in labeling women who carry the load of
household labor and child rearing as “not working.” Moreover, the available
information frequently represents a duplication of effort. Appropriate infor-
mation, however, constitutes a vital resource for planning and for policy mak-
ing and its execution.  

This analysis provides an overview of the author’s effort over several years
to create an information service that offers appropriate, women-focused infor-
mation in Costa Rica and, eventually, in the Central American region, through
the Programa de Informacion de la Mujer (PIM) (Women’s Information Pro-
gram) at Costa Rica’s Universidad Nacional (Crowther, Cubero, and Sibille,
1990; Sibille et al., 1989). The project is ongoing. As of this writing, two stages,
start—up and conceptualization, are complete and an operationalization phase
is now under way. A fourth stage, the long—term application of service to Costa
Rica and the Central American region, lies in the foreseeable future.

Start-Up: Creation of the Red Nacional de Informacion
sobre Muj er y Desarrollo

In 1985, under the sponsorship of the Fundacion Accion Ya (Action Now
Foundation) and with the financial backing of what later became UNIFEM,

298

Costa Rican professionals developed the PIM. Two years later, PIM became
associated with the Instituto de Estudios de la Mujer (IEM) (Institute of Wom-
en’s Studies) at the Universidad Nacional in Heredia, Costa Rica. Since that
time, the program has been funded by the Canadian International Devel-
opment Research Center in Ottawa, Canada. PIM became part of the uni-
versity’s diverse program of activities in research, teaching, and extension
service; PIM participates in fulfilling UNA’s special mission of serving pri-
marily the poor—in this case, poor women—and those who are working with
them.

PIM has established a two-pronged approach for generating and dissemi-
nating information on women. It created the Centro de Documentacion Es-
pecializado en el Tema Mujer y Desarrollo (Documentation Center Specializ-
ing in Women and Development), which houses a variety of print materials,
and the Red Nacional de Informacion sobre Mujer y Desarrollo (National
Information Network on Women and Development), which offers its users
access to information on problems and policies. From the beginning, the PIM
staff has planned the eventual extension of this network across the Central
American region.  

The network staff has not had any precedent on which to build. They
devised their procedures in a hands-on, learning—by-doing manner, identify-
ing tasks, formulating theoretical perspectives and methodology, and devising
steps to institutionalize both methodology and its application.

In an attempt to determine which organizations in Costa Rica could be-
come providers of or customers for information, the network staff identified
213 organizations, of which 145 were linked to women’s issues—124 directly and
21 indirectly. Of these organizations, 58 percent were nongovernmental organi-
zations, 22 percent were voluntary women’s organizations, 14 percent were
governmental organizations, and 6 percent were international organizations.
From these 145 organizations, the staff selected those which were most inter-
ested in active cooperation, 34 in all; those organizations became the group
that would begin working with data. I

During their collection effort, PIM staff members created three databases,
offering bibliographic, institutional, and statistical information. In this ef-
fort they cooperated with the institutional documentation centers of the 34
organizations, which represented 15 government organizations, 8 univer-
sities, 6 private institutions, and 5 international organizations. In the pro-
cess the staff trained 38 technicians and published nine manuals on data
processing.

Toward a Gender-in-Development Information Network

299

Reconceptualization: A Gender-Based Theoretical Framework

During the start—up phase, staff members learned that the demand for infor-
mation on women is not matched by a corresponding supply of data. The
reason for this disparity lies in the inappropriate theoretical conceptualization
of information on women, rather than in improper information technology.
Consequently, the staff stipulated that an appropriate theoretical framework
would need to be developed, which would specify the precise character of
information the users would need and would provide the basis for a proper
methodology to present it in ways relevant to women’s needs.

The key criterion for such a framework is that it must promote analysis on
the basis of gender. It must focus on specific problems that affect women
differently from men; examples of such problems include the status of poor
women in development processes, employment policies affecting women, in-
come generation for women, land tenure, health, and education. Given this
gender orientation, the information will be appropriate for use in planning
medium—term and long—term policies, as well as in coordinating current ef-
forts. This criterion ensures that data will be significant and the database will
be an important resource. Thus the staff will be ableto provide data that show
that poor women are economically and socially underprivileged and that they
suffer from gender—based hierarchies and patterns that encourage subordina-
tion. The staff will be able to demonstrate that women’s work is not socially
recognized and that it remains undervalued, even though it is vital for human
survival and reproduction.

In fact, recent investigations have shown that information on women and
development is scarce, deficient, not generalizable, and not up to date. As a
result, policy making, the definition of priorities, the formulation of projects,
and the allocation of resources for women are all based on estimates, and the
reliability of those estimates is questionable. As long as data are not reliable,
policy-making decisions are merely an expression of wishful thinking; they
may help, hurt, or simply overlook precisely those women who most need
support. For example, according to a recent statement of the Organizacién
Panamericana de Salud (OPS) (Panamerican Health Organization), most
countries cannot count on appropriately categorized health information. Even
though information is continually gathered, the information is not available to
users because of logistical problems.

Few information systems expressly serve women particularly in Central
America. Even fewer are run by women. The author knows only of the Costa

300 Mafalda Sibille Martina

Rican national network, the information system of the Instituto Nicaragiiense
de Investigacion sobre la Mujer (INIM) (Nicaraguan Institute of Research on
Women), and a few still limited attempts in other countries.

Moreover, the Red Nacional de Informacion sobre Mujer y Desarrollo is
much more than an information network promoting gender—based analysis
regarding women and development. As an institution, it contributes to the
advancement of gender-related theory, offers considerable methodological
and technical expertise in data processing and management, and-—most im-
portant—promotes a strong commitment to sharing its information resources
equally with all who are interested in gender in development, above all with the
women who live the development process and struggle with it. The network
staff sees its task not only as working with Costa Rican women, women’s
organizations, and institutions, but also as working with international bodies,
such as UNIFEM or the Organizacion Panamericana de Salud, and as extend-
ing the work of the network across Central America.

To the gender—in—development framework, the network is adding a recon-
ceptualization of gender—sensitive communications, practices that it hopes
other countries will make their own as they establish their respective networks.
Early in the design of the services that a networked information system wil1pro—
vide, planners must understand who will use the network, and what the users
want to know. Three components of a successful network are the following:

1. Assessing the demand for information according to the users’ needs;

2. Developing the supply of information in response to that demand;

3. Providing service to help institutions develop their own data management capaci— I
ties so that they will fulfill requirements 1 and 2 above. ‘

Such a gender—sensitive communications system requires the rethinking of
such terms as user, client, or beneficiary to make sure that the system includes
meaningful information and makes it available to all participants——-above all,
to the women themselves.

Operationalization: Serving Its Costa Rican Customers

As noted earlier, the Red Nacional de Informacién sobre Mujer y Desarrollo
is—at the time of this writing—in its third stage, the phase of operational-
ization. It has determined its theoretical position and specified the informa-
tion on women it needs, as the title of this essay describes, and is accessible
for use by essential institutions. In Costa Rica, these institutions include the

Toward a Gender-in-Development Information Network 301

Radio Nacional (National Radio), the Comité Nacional de la Mujer Coopera-
tivista (National Committee of Women’s Cooperativists) (see Iiménez, M.,
chap. 21 above), Ministerio de Planificacion Nacional y Politica Econémica
(MIDEPLAN) (Ministry of National Planning and Economics), the Defen-
soria de la Mujer (Office of the Women’s Defender) (now part of the De-
fensoria de los Habitantes), the IBM, various institutions involved in media
programs, income-generation programs, government planning offices, legal
defense groups, educational facilities, and outreach programs. These informa-
tion users will in turn help the network staff reach a better understanding of
the demand for information on women; the result will be an elaboration of
appropriate types of information to satisfy all demands.

Long-Term Application: Regional Extension

The fourth phase, long—term application, is planned to begin in the mid—199os.
Since this analysis was written, the author has left the Costa Rican program
and is now working on the Central American application (Sibille, 1992). The
fourth phase of the project should bring a much-needed extension of the
network throughout the Central American region. This regional extension will
help women by providing the information necessary for sound planning and
policy making, and it will do so while avoiding a duplication of effort.

With its work, the Red Nacional de Informacién sobre Mujer y Desarrollo
has been making a consciously feminist contribution. It determined the inap-
propriateness of previously available information. It established characteristics
of newly needed, gender-related information on women in the development
process. And it is developing procedures for providing this information to its
users—be they planners, administrators, officials of political or academic in-
stitutions, community leaders, project supervisors, or the women who are the
active participants in the development process.

Biodata

Mafalda Sibille Martina is a Peruvian living in Costa Rica. She has a licenciatura in
sociology from the Universidad Xaveriana (Xaveriana University) in Bogota, Colom-
bia, and she has done graduate studies at the Centro Regional de Educacion Funcional
para América Latina (CREFAL) (Regional Center for Functional Education in Latin
America), a joint program of UNESCO and the Mexican government, located in
Patzcuaro, Michoacan, and at the University of Louvain in Belgium. In 1977 she de-
signed the Sistema de Informacion Indigenista de América Latina (Information System
on Latin American Indigenous Peoples) at the Instituto Indigenista Interamericano

302 Mafalda Sibille Martina

(Inter-American Institute of Indigenous People), a Peruvian institution, and in 1983
she began to develop the information system for women. She created the Programa de
Informacion de la Mujer (PIM), of which the Red Nacional de Informacion sobre
Mujer y Desarrollo is part. Currently she is an independent consultant to international
agencies on information regarding women in development. In that capacity, she has
recently done research, with funding by Norwegian and Swedish government agencies,
to evaluate Central American information centers of gender and development and the
use of that information in forty-eight development projects.

References

Crowther, Warren, Flor Cubero, and Mafalda Sibille Martina. 1990. Estrategias de
informacion. San Jose, Costa Rica: Instituto Centroamericano de Administracion
Publica.

Sibille, Mafalda. 1992. “Disefio de la investigacién centroamericana: Informacion y
género en el desarrollo.” Mimeo. San Jose, Costa Rica: Autoridad Sueca para el
Desarrollo Internacional and Autoridad Noruega para el Desarrollo Internacional.

Sibille, Mafalda, Yadira Calvo, Laura Guzman, and Elizabeth Aguilar. 1989. Diagnostico
y propuesta de organizacion de un sistema de informacion sobre mujer y desarrollo en
Costa Rica. Heredia: Programa de Informacion de la Mujer, Universidad Nacional.

Acknowledgments

Thanks to Warren Crowther and Flor Cubero for their contribution in our elaborating
the methodology for designing information strategies for public policy in Estrategias de
informacion (Information Strategies) (1990), at the Instituto Centroamericano de Ad-
ministracion Publica (ICAP) (Central American Institute of Public Administration),
in which we formalized our approach to gender-in—development information.

Toward a Gender-in-Development Information Network 303

32 % Women’s Presence in the University
The Case of the Universidad Nacional in Heredia

Matilde Lopez Nafiez

This essay presents a brief analysis of women’s presence among the Univer-
sidad Nacional’s academic and administrative personnel, as Well as among its
students from 1982 to 1987. The Universidad Nacional (UNA) is one of four
state universities, the other three being the Universidad de Costa Rica, the Uni-
versidad Estatal a Distancia (UNED) (State University for Extension Studies),
and the Instituto Tecnolégico (Institute of Technology). UNA was founded in
1973, as the successor to the Teachers’ College, and in recent years it has had
approximately 7,000 to 9,000 students. This study focuses on the years 1982
and 1987 and examines trends and major characteristics of the three groups.

Women Academics

Gender and Age

As table 32.1 indicates, women account for roughly one—third of UNA’s aca-
demic staff (33% in 1982; 37% in 1987). The teaching staff is surprisingly young.
In 1982, more than half of the faculty (55% of the women and 51% of the men)
were in the age group of 28 to 38 years. An additional 21 percent of women and
26 percent of men fell in the 39—to-4o age group in 1982. For the year 1987, the
percentage of women aged 28 to 38 shrinks to 49 percent, and of men, to 45
percent. The next older group, of 39 to 49 years, increases notably in 1987 to 27
percent and 35 percent, respectively.

Salary

In 1982, two-thirds of both women and men (66% and 64%) were in the low-
salary range (<4,ooo—1o,ooo colones); one—third (34% and 36%) were in the
middle range (1o,ooo—18,ooo colones); and negligible numbers (up to 1%)
were in the high—salary range (18,ooo—26,ooo colones). By 1987, slightly over
two—fifths (43% and 43%) were in the low range (<4,ooo—18,ooo); not quite
one-third (31%, 27%) fell in the middle (18,ooo—36,ooo); and not quite one-

304

Table 32.1. Universidad Nacional (UNA) Academic Staff, Comparison by Gender

1982 1987
Male Female Male Female
% F of % F of

Category No. % No. % Total No. % No. % Total
Age

18-28 106 14 62 17 37 83 10 90 18 52

28-38 387 51 204 55 35 375 45 241 49 39

39-49 195 26 77 21 28 293 35 131 27 31

50 + 67 9 26 7 28 79 10 29 6 27

TOTAL 755 100 369 100 33 830 100 491 100 37
Salary

Low 481 64 242 66 33 353 43 209 43 37

Middle 269 36 126 34 32 227 27 150 31 40

High 5 1 1 — 17 250 30 132 27 35
Academic Preparation

<B.A./B.S. 54 7 18 5 25 58 7 15 3 21

B.A./B.S. 165 22 119 32 42 200 24 168 35 46

Licenciatura "407 54 205 56 33 401 49 244 51 38

M.A./M.S. 58 8 19 5 25 97 12 39 8 29

Ph.D. 71 9 8 2 10 64 8 8 2 1 1
Teaching Appointment

Full Time 203 27 119 32 37 199 24 142 30 42

Part Time 552 73 250 68 31 621 76 332 70 35

Notes: Totals are not the same in all categories of data; percentages do not add up to 100 because of rounding.

% F of total = percentage of females in category.

Salaries in colones compared to account for inflation:
Low: (1982) 4,000 to 10,000
Middle: (1982) 10,000 to 18,000

(1982) 18,000 to 26,000

High:

(1987) 10,000 to 18,000
(1987) 18,000 to 36,000
(1987) 36,000 to 70,000

At any time, the high salary range is probably equivalent to $500-$1,000 U.S. per month.

Licenciatura: Academic Degree between B.A./ B.S. and M.A./ M.S.

Academic personnel comprise teaching, research, and extension staff. Data on research staff, extension staff, and

teaching staff are not comparable, so the table shows only teaching staff. However, women in both years account for

about one-third of all personnel, and most hold only part-time positions.

expressed her disagreement with laws written for the well—being of women
without their consent. Because “no man,” she said, “no group of men, no
government, no nation, nor any group of nations ever had the right to rob us
of what we claim today. We ask for the restoration of the rights which were
taken from us, our human rights” (cited in Acufia, 1969, 2: 363). Despite pres-
sures exerted by an international group of women to have educator Lydia Fer-
nandez represent Costa Rica at that conference, the government had followed
tradition and sent a man, Alejandro Aguilar Machado, who participated in the
creation of the Comision Interamericana de Mujeres (CIM) (Inter American
Commission of Women). The commission was originally composed of seven
members named by the Union Panamericana, the precursor of the Orga-
nizacion de Estados Americanos (OEA) (Organization of American States),
and later by representatives of each country of the continent. Costa Rica has
always been represented, just as she has always been represented in the Union
de Mujeres Americanas (Union of American Women), the organization that
traditionally names the Woman of the Americas of the Year. (In 1957, at age 79,
Angela Acufia was given this award [CalVo, 1989: 212].)

But the suffragist struggle in Costa Rica was associated fundamentally with
Acuf1a’s Feminist League. After their first timid request, the women realized
what they would be facing. They were not so dismayed by President Acosta’s
refusal of their request. Rather, what perturbed the league members was the
reaction of the media, which hurried to remind them that, according to the
law, women, children, and the insane could not vote (Calvo, 1989: 103).

From then on, the league dedicated all its efforts to ensuring that women
would no longer be grouped with children and the insane. In 1931 they pro-
posed to the Costa Rican Legislative Assembly a bill granting the vote to a
limited group of women who, because of intellectual capacity demonstrated by
titles and professions, could prove their good sense, wisdom, and maturity.
They also asked the representatives to explain what other credentials women
would have to present to win the vote, stating that they would be willing to
obtain them. But their voices made no more impression on the assembly than
did the sounds of the falling rain (Sharratt, chap. 8 below).  

Thereafter, the Feminist League sent a new petition to the Legislative As-
sembly every year, and each year the representatives answered with the hack-
neyed story that a woman in her home occupies a throne to which she, like a
queen, should devote all her time and interest. The controversy was enervating
and at the same time amusing. Members of the league went to the press in 1934
and said that such kingdoms of the home were “fairy tales for the golden times

Dififerent Times, Women, Visions 9

third (27%, 30%) were in the high—salary range (36,ooo—7o,0oo+). The dif-
ferent salary ranges for the two years illustrate that, over time, the salaries were
adjusted for inflation. A crude comparison of exchange rates for each year
suggests that the high-salary range, both in 1982 and 1987, is approximately
equal to $500 to $1,000 U.S. a month.

Academic Preparation

Two facts emerge on academic preparation. First, at UNA about one—third of
all faculty hold a bachelor’s or lesser degree. In 1982, this was true of 37 percent
of the women and 29 percent of the men; in 1987, comparable figures were 38
percent and 31 percent respectively. Another half of the faculty (1982, 56% and
54%; 1987, 51% and 49%) hold a licenciatura, a degree that is more than the
bachelor’s but less than the U.S. master’s degree. In rounded numbers, the
percentage of UNA faculty with a master’s degree or a Ph.D. was 14 percent in
1982 (7% of the women, 17% of the men). In 1987, 16 percent of the faculty held
such degrees (10% and 19% respectively). In many fields, advanced degrees
require study abroad, which is not easily available to most academics.

Even though the data suggest a basic ratio of distribution between women
and men of roughly 1:2, at lower levels of academic preparation this ratio
approaches 1:1, whereas at the Ph.D. level it tends toward 1:10. In other words,
women cluster at the lower levels of academic preparation, and only a few of
them are found among Ph.D.’s.

Time Commitment

Teaching is increasingly done by part—time faculty at UNA. In 1982, 68 percent
of women and 73 percent of men held part—time teaching positions. Compara-
ble figures for 1987 were 70 percent for women and 76 percent for men. The ex-
isting records do not indicate the proportion of graduate-student teaching as-
sistants. The proportion of full-time women is higher (42%) than their overall
proportion (37%) among academic staff. This suggests a perpetuation of the
stereotype that teaching is a feminine activity. Also, more men than women
seem to use a part—time affiliation with the university for status, pursuing other
activities outside of academia—often justifiably so, because university salaries
are not generous.

Schools

Some schools within UNA attract an unusually high proportion of women.
These schools offer “typically feminine” professional training. Thus the hu-
manities faculty is 46 percent women. Women also comprise 44 percent of the

306 Matilde Lo’pez Niifiez

faculty of the Centro de Investigacion y Docencia en Educacion (CIDE) (Cen-
ter for Research and Teaching in Education), which was formerly the School of
Education. The Facultad de Ciencias Sociales (School of Social Sciences) lists
33 percent of its faculty as women. That division includes such fields as profes-
sional secretarial studies, social planning and community organization, his-
tory, and sociology, and the interdisciplinary Instituto de Estudios de Trabajo
(IESTRA) (Institute of Labor Studies).

Positions of Power

An important aspect of women’s presence at UNA is their increasing participa-
tion in policy and decision making, i.e., in power positions. In 1982, women
held only 2 of 12 positions (17%) in the president’s office, the university coun-
cil, the general secretariat, and the various head offices for the major university
functions (such as administration, academic affairs, research, extension, and
student life). Women improved their position in 1986, reaching 23 percent with
7 of 31 positions, but this proportion is not stable. Nonetheless, in 1989 UNA
elected a woman to its highest post, president of the university. This is the first
time any Woman has held this post in Central America.

Administrative Staff
Gender and Age

Regarding university administration, the study demonstrates a sustained in-
crease of women at UNA between 1982 and 1987. The number of female
personnel increased by 27 percent, and male personnel by 6 percent. In 1987, of
1,042 administrators, 498 were women, for a female participation of 48 per-
cent. Among older employees, though, men still predominate. In 1987, in the
age group 44 years and older, the female to male ratio was 1:3, whereas in the
age group 24 to 28 years, the ratio was 2:1.

[019 Function and Power

The ratio of women to men in university administration does not give a
complete View of women administrators’ status at UNA. Most women are
secretaries and office workers; in the higher ranks, such as in the planning
office and computer direction, men predominate, holding an average of 80
percent of administrative positions. Fields that record relatively large numbers
of women administrators——for example, general studies, philosophy, the lib-
eral arts/ humanities, and social sciences——repeat the pattern found earlier
among the academic staff. In general, women do less valued jobs and thin out

Women’s Presence in the University 307

in the upper ranks. In the university’s top echelons, the ratio is one woman to
four men; of 43 top positions in 1987, eight (19%) were held by women, 35 by
men. In the next—lower echelon, directors of offices, comprising 27 positions in
1982, women held only 6 positions (22%). In 1987, of a total of 31 such slots, 7
were occupied by women (26%). The same 1:4 ratio holds for positions that
need high academic or technical qualifications, such as planners, officials in
the treasurer’s office, programmers, analysts, technicians in the graphic arts,
and lab assistants. Women are also in the minority among support staff. They
are in the majority as secretaries, office workers, or librarians.

Student Population

Available figures for women students are not strictly comparable to those for
faculty and staff, and they allow only general observations. The proportion of
women among UNA students seems high, at 44 percent for 1982 and 51 percent
for 1987. Most students—women and men—are single, but in the categories of
common—law marriage and divorced persons, women predominate. In 1982, 71
percent of the women students and 63 percent of the male students did not
work in the formal labor market; for 1987, the figures rose to 79 percent for
women and 67 percent for men. In 1982, 42 percent of all women students
received total scholarship support, 37 percent received partial support, and
only 21 percent paid for their education with no aid. The percentage for total
support remained nearly the same in 1987 (41%), but the proportion of women
paying for their education rose to 44 percent. In both years, smaller propor-
tions of male students received total support (36% in 1982 and 37% in 1987).

Fields of Study

Some fields retained their popularity and attracted the greatest number of women

I students in both 1982 and 1987. These fields were literature and linguistics,
education, professional secretarial studies, labor studies, and librarianship. His-
tory, biological sciences, and planning and community organization, which were
popular in 1982, were losing out in 1987 to international studies, mathematics,
and economics. Women do have a reputation—not yet statistically confirmed-
of registering for more diverse class work and of studying harder than men.

Conclusion
The foregoing study invites several observations: Women’s presence at UNA in

terms of numbers is, although not equal, at least respectable; women account

308 Matilde Lo’pez Nzifiez

for approximately one—third of the academic faculty, 40 percent of the admin-
istrative staff, and a majority of the students. Moreover, all categories displayed
a fairly consistent trend toward an increase in women’s participation. Women
and men share some problems, such as low salaries, which result in the over-
whelming majority of academics working part-time at the university and pur-
suing other careers outside.

However, women’s presence is nowhere a presence on equal terms. Men
hold most power positions on both the academic faculty and the administra-
tive staff, and they predominate in prestigious fields of study. Women, both as
faculty and as students, predominate only in “typically feminine,” less pres-
tigious, and less remunerated fields of study.

Biodata

Matilde Lopez Nufiez, a Costa Rican, holds an A.B.D. in sociology of literature from
the Ecole des Hautes Etudes en Sciences Sociales (School of Advanced Studies in the
Social Sciences) in Paris and an M.A. in Hispanic American literature from the Sor-
bonne Nouvelle (New Sorbonne) in Paris. Before her retirement from the Instituto de
Estudios de la Mujer (IBM) (Institute of Women’s Studies) at UNA, she was a re-
searcher and editor of the information bulletin UNA-Mujer and the review Casa de la
Mujer (Women’s House). From late 1992 until early 1994 she participated in a regional
research project sponsored by the Women’s Program of the Instituto Interamericano
de Derechos Humanos (Inter—American Institute of Human Rights) to investigate
women’s perception of their rights in various Central American countries. She is
currently completing research on women’s career choices in a project sponsored by
the Consejo Superior Universitario Centroamericano (CSUCA) (Council of Central
American Universities), which has seen delays because of recent changes in the CSUCA
program (see Iiménez, H., chap. 30 above).

References

Lopez N., Matilde. 1989. “Analisis cuantitativo y cualitativo de la participacion de la
mujer en las universidades estatales centroamericanas.” Mimeo. Primera parte: Uni-
versidad Nacional, Costa Rica. n.p.: Centro Interdisciplinario de Estudios de la
Mujer.

Acknowledgments

This is a selective summary of an investigation the author carried out in 1989 for CIEM,
now IEM, as part of a study sponsored by the Women’s Studies Program of CSUCA to
determine the presence of women in the region’s universities.

Women’s Presence in the University 309

33 %i= Problems of Joint Interdisciplinary
Research in Women’s Studies

An Effort to Integrate Disciplines for
More Fruitful Analysis

Margarita Brenes Fonseca, May Brenes Marin,
and Sandra Castro Paniagua

One of the goals of current scientific work is producing scientific knowledge by
integrating the approaches of various disciplines. As scholars and feminists, We
carried out a joint interdisciplinary research project on depression among
Costa Rican women. This report identifies and summarizes some of the most
important difficulties we faced in employing an interdisciplinary methodology
for a scientific investigation, difficulties we encountered despite the feminist
values we three investigators shared. We hope that by sharing our experiences
we can facilitate the work of other women who might select a similar meth-
odology. We believe the goals of this methodology are attainable if feminist
scholars base their cooperation on the universality of a feminist View of the
social and psychological sciences. We conclude this report with a summary of
our most important insights into depression among the Costa Rican women
we investigated.

From our shared feminist perspective, We began the task of assessing the
problem of mental health among Costa Rican women; we combined the ap-
proaches of three scientific disciplines: anthropology, psychology, and sociol-
ogy. The specific problem we set out to study was depression in Costa Rica
(Brenes, Castro, and Pinto, 1990); depression has been identified specifically as
a women’s problem around the world, in both developed and developing
countries (Weissman and Klerman, 1977).

An important component of a feminist approach to science is considering
the personal and environmental aspects of scientific phenomena. This led us to
base our investigation upon the analysis of the life histories of a group of
fifteen hospitalized women patients who had been diagnosed as depressive.

310

The resulting analysis integrates the perspectives of our three disciplines. Be-
fore arriving at these results, however, we had to learn to manage our own
differences.

Analyzing Our Difficulties

We began our project in a spirit of cooperation based on a shared set of values.
We were surprised to find that our first problem was understanding and trust-
ing each other. We will briefly describe the problems we encountered, discuss
their possible causes, and, finally, present the solution we found for overcom-
ing them.

“We Must Contribute Equally.”

Differences in our individual academic training produced not only different
bodies of specialized information but also differences in our conception of the
world and our work and differences in our specific skills. The training of
professionals in Costa Rica is based on fairly inflexible study programs. Stu-
dents have few alternatives for choosing courses. This is quite appropriate for a
country such as Costa Rica in which economic resources are scarce and univer-
sity budgets are necessarily limited.

Consequently, we members of the investigating team were women with
different capacities, skills, and conceptions. As we developed our study we
found it difficult to accept these differences. This manifested itself in various
ways. Each of us doubted her partners’ commitment to the project and their
willingness to put forth an equal amount of effort in various areas—the num-
ber of bibliographic sources they would contribute, their application and
understanding of theory, or the division of practical chores during fieldwork.
Our psychologist, for example, had more bibliographic sources than the other
two professionals because our topic was one that psychologists had tradi-
tionally studied. And the anthropologist and sociologist had more experience
with fieldwork, which is a standard part of those disciplines. These and other
issues produced feelings of competitiveness among us.

The attitude of cooperation we three investigators shared contrasted repeat-
edly with the distrust, competition, and lack of support that characterized our
initial management of differences. Thus we disagreed, for example, on assess-
ments of theory or practice and on the value of a technical or spontaneous
approach, to mention only two areas of conflict. At various moments, such
issues threatened the continuation of the project. In the end, however, the

Problems of Ioint Interdisciplinary Research in Women’s Studies 311

discussion and evaluation of our differences precluded such a result. Our
group effort to convert into reality the values of sisterhood and cooperation-
which we as feminist investigators consider fundamental for achieving a com-
prehensive appreciation of reality—permitted us not only to continue and
achieve our goals but also to find out how to learn from our differences.

“This Is My Area of Expertise.”

During our study we faced another problem that characterizes all interdisci-
plinary work: We had to recognize the differences between, and the limits of,
our disciplines.

Our psychologist colleague frequently commented on the work of the so-
ciologist and anthropologist, saying, “\/Vhat you wrote is psychology, not so-
ciology (or anthropology) .” On other occasions, the protest was directed with
equal force at her. These protests caused us to evaluate the traditional attitudes
and conditions that have established the parameters for social science research.
Generally, these traditions had led us to compartmentalize our sciences, con-
sidering ourselves experts on one or another topic and, in many cases, disre-
garding the contribution of the other disciplines.

To behave in this fashion means ascribing each science to one branch of
knowledge. Our practice taught us that we cannot distinguish precise limits
between different branches of knowledge. We overcame this problem by un-
derstanding our disciplines in their broadest meaning, taking into consider-
ation interaction, knowledge, scientific theory, and socioeconomic develop-
ment of the society—without ignoring, of course, the peculiarities of each
investigator, her previous experience, and her interpretation of the world.

To approach science from this broadest point of View caused us to accept the
fact that our knowledge was not absolute and, most important, it allowed us to
be aware that we needed to learn more. This awareness gave us a clearer vision
of our investigative activity. In the end, we confirmed the value and necessity of
interdisciplinary investigation, specifically for the study of women’s problems.
Having done so, we were able to achieve a more comprehensive study, which
was more committed to women and to the well—being of humanity.

“What Does It Mean? What Are You Saying?”

Any scientific discipline, especially those of the social sciences, contains appro-
priate theories, practices, and methodologies that it employs in the analysis of
the phenomena it wishes to investigate. Each discipline also tailors its vocabu-

312 Margarita Brenes Fonseca, May Brenes Marin, and Sandra Castro Paniagua

lary to its theories, practices, and methodologies. Although many terms over-
lap and have identical meanings, others carry an entirely different definition.

The difficulty we had to resolve in our study was defining the meaning of
the technical vocabulary for each discipline. In the case of our three social
sciences, for instance, we had to check and define such terms as socialization
process and roles. Equally perplexing was whether we equate what psychologists
call a “case study” with what the anthropologist knows as a “life history.” Did
the terms describe the same phenomenon? In this particular example, we
asked ourselves whether the two terms were similar, complementary, or mutu-
ally exclusive; then we discussed the limits and emphases that each discipline
puts on details or certain aspects of the two definitions. We decided that in our
investigation, we would combine the life history approach with case study
techniques. Since our research took place in a hospital with patients who had
been diagnosed for depression, we resorted initially to the case study method.
We taped our interviews at the hospital. Together, we then analyzed the tapes,
to explore specific details, so that we could confirm or explain certain points
when we visited the patients’ families at their homes—an aspect much more
akin to the anthropological life history method.

We learned from this experience that it is of the utmost importance for the
participants in an interdisciplinary study to gain an understanding, if only a
very general understanding, of what the theories of the different disciplines
and their techniques and methods contribute to the investigative process.

Discussion: An Integrating Science

We can summarize the various difficulties we encountered under the overall
problem of learning to manage our differences. Accepting the differences
among ourselves—without letting those differences lead us to compete with
each other or to give up the project—constituted a basic step in the process of
learning to produce less atomized knowledge, knowledge that can integrate
diverse aspects of reality, the private and the public, the psychological and the
socio-anthropological. These categories reflect, above all, the development of
sciences that divide the world and foster a hierarchical, compartmentalized
world vision.

To develop an integrating science that unites different spheres and dimen-
sions is a goal and a challenge for us as human beings. The feminist perspective
of science helps us to overcome the difficulties of a new construction, not only

Problems of Ioint Interdisciplinary Research in Women’s Studies 313

of the scientific paradigms but also of the methodologies we must employ if we
are to reach these new goals.

Our Insight into Depression in Costa Rican Women

The heterogeneity of the social, cultural, and psychological factors we found
responsible for the occurrence of depression in the fifteen women in our study
caused us to doubt the diagnoses in the medical records for many of the
participating women. These diagnoses tended to relate the women’s depres-
sion to specific causes in their immediate past. We suggested instead that the
depression was more likely to be related to profound long-term problems in
the women’s lives. Those problems arise from the violence women experience
daily—physical or mental aggression, incest, and rape.

In our study, even disregarding violence in the form of beatings in child-
hood or as adults, 60 percent of the women had suffered sexual aggression,
and 33 percent had experienced incest (Brenes et al, 1990: 137-38). One re-
spondent, for example, had been battered by her husband, who then also
violated the respondent’s daughter (his stepdaughter). The daughter was her-
self then hospitalized with depression in another institution (Brenes et al.,
1990: 124). In another case, a woman had refused sexual relations with her
husband, who had acted irresponsibly in money matters. He responded with
such a brutal sexual attack that she needed to be hospitalized (Brenes et al.,
1990: 125).  

In our study of these fifteen women, we found that the patriarchal norms
that regulate the women’s conformity behavior—and thus enforce the subor-
dination of the feminine by the masculine gender—are part of their daily lives,
together with the values that establish and reinforce those norms. In their need
to respond to their situation, some of these women sought help and support in
religion or looked for an explanation in supernatural forces.

We concluded the following:

1. The treatment of depressed women during their hospital stay must be more holistic;
the course of treatment should be designed not only to guide the women out of de-
pression but also to offer them group therapy with the relevant members of their
social group.

2. We should promote support groups for those women so that not only will the
phenomenon of depression be treated in the individual patient but the women will
also be enabled to share and analyze their experiences.

314 Margarita Brenes Fonseca, May Brenes Marin, and Sandra Castro Pcmiagua

3. In each diagnosis and treatment, professionals from various disciplines should
participate, which will allow a holistic analysis of the problem of depression from an
interdisciplinary perspective.

Biodata

Margarita Brenes Fonseca is a Costa Rican. She holds an M.S. in psychology from
Arizona State University in Tempe, Arizona. She is a professor at the Universidad
de Costa Rica and a member of the Programa Interdisciplinario de Estudios de Género
(PRIEG) (Interdisciplinary Gender Studies Program). Her major research interests are
gender and socialization. In early 1993 she went on leave from UCR and is working in
the United States as a psychotherapist with Latina women in the bilingual program of
the Family Service Association in Lawrence, Massachusetts.

May Brenes Marin, a Costa Rican, has a licenciatura in anthropology from the
Universidad de Costa Rica. She has worked as a consultant for UCR’s Training Project
for Rural Women and, since 1993 has been the editor of the review Casa de la Mujer
(Women’s House) at the Instituto de Estudios de la Mujer (IEM) (Institute for Wom-
en’s Studies) at UNA. In 1992 she published Matinino, por los mismos caminos de la
historia con otros ojos (Matinino, watching the course of history with other eyes). With
Mayra Zapparoli Zecca she published [De que vuelan, vuelan . . .! Un analisis de la magia
y la brujeria en Costa Rica (They say they don’t fly—but they do! An analysis of magic
and witchcraft in Costa Rica; 1991).

Sandra Castro Paniagua is also an author of “Women and Love,” which appears
earlier in this Reader and contains her biodata (see chap. 26 above).

References

Brenes Marin, May, Sandra Castro Paniagua, and Roxana Pinto Lopez. 1990. Mujer y
depresion. San Jose, Costa Rica: APROMUIER.

Weissman, M. N., and G. L. Klerman. 1977. “Sex Differences and the Epidemiology of
Depression.” Archives of General Psychiatry 34 (January).

Acknowledgments

This analysis is based on the experience of writing an interdisciplinary licenciatara
thesis, for which May Brenes Marin and Sandra Castro Paniagua worked with Roxana
Pinto Lopez, who did not participate in the elaboration of the present report. Mar-
garita Brenes Fonseca was the thesis director.

Problems of Ioint Interdisciplinary Research in Women’s Studies 315

of yore” (Calvo, 1989: 154) and that women were queens only in ballads and
verses. Men then answered more forthrightly; they admitted frankly that a
woman’s role as reproducer of the species tied her to the home to such an
extent that this should be her permanent place. The suffragists accepted the
obligation of women to be mothers, but they differed in their interpretation of
the role, giving it a social and political scope “that requires a moral-ethical
quality which is infinitely superior to the one needed for the exercise of the
vote” (Calvo, 1989: 159). In the end, the suffragists’ reasoning mattered lit-
tle: lawmakers merely raised their eyebrows and continued to reject women’s
claim to the vote. The year was 1934.

Almost ten years later, after their participation in the public protests of
May 15, 1943, in which they defended the legality of Costa Rican men’s right to
vote, the members of the league believed their hour had finally come. Thou-
sands of citizens, women and men,.had given public evidence of their civic
conscience, showing their disagreement with the government’s disrespect for
the popular will. For the first time, it seemed that the women’s campaign was
evoking respect and sufficient recognition and that public awareness of the
repeatedly refused request for the Vote was on their side. Presidential candidate
Leon Cortés declared, “The nation must give increasingly more tangible proof
of its confidence in Costa Rican women, giving them legally the civil rights
they so nobly have won” (Calvo, 1989: 186). As a result, a bill presented to the
assembly on May 20, 1943, proposed a modification of the election law to
reflect the idea that the vote must be exercised “by male and female citizens for
whom it constitutes a duty and a right” (Calvo, 1989: 187).

But women were not yet to have the vote in Costa Rica. The argument was
raised that the bill had been proposed in a pre—election period and had come
from the Democratic party, the same party that had benefited from the wom-
en’s demonstration. Thus, the bill was killed by the accusation of political
opportunism and election campaign manipulation. Then, on August 2, 1947,
several thousand women, organized by a large number of women teachers,
took to the streets to demonstrate in favor of the right to vote in the next
election. As earlier, and building on the demands Stevens had voiced at the
Havana conference, in 1943, they did not ask for the right to vote but they again
protested that they had been deprived of the right to vote. This time, the
demonstration was a deciding factor in achieving the concession of the politi-
cal rights to women in the 1949 Constitution. One of the decisive arguments
was that women’s participation at that moment had been sufficient proof of
their patriotism (Sharratt, chap. 8 below).

10 Yadira Calvo Fajardo

34 %% The Predictability
of Cesarean—Section Births

A Case Study of Students in
Costa Rican Childbirth Classes

Iermifer Kozlow—R0drz’guez

Something is causing an ever—accelerating increase of cesarean births in Costa
Rica and, thus, an abuse of normal obstetrical ethics because any cesarean
section that can be predicted for nonmedical reasons is theoretically unethical.
This analysis is an attempt to begin a process of predicting the likelihood that
a particular pregnancy will result in a cesarean-section birth because of fac-
tors other than medical ones. If such predictions can be made, it will be
possible to recognize women with a strong preference for a medicated birth.
Such an attitude might ultimately put some of these women at risk for a
cesarean section.

Acceptable and Excessive Occurrences of Cesareans

The Organizacion Mundial de la Salud (World Health Organization) has
stated that no region in the world, regardless of how poor or privileged,
can justify a rate of cesarean-section births higher than 15 percent of all
births in the population (International Childbirth Education Association,
1989). This criterion is met in few developed countries; in Costa Rica, a coun-
try in the process of development, the rate of cesarean births seems excessively
high.

The hospitals of the government—supported Caja Costarricense de Seguro
Social (CCSS) (Costa Rican Social Security Service) are not the source of the
problem. These hospitals perform cesarean sections only in cases of absolute
medical necessity and they maintain a 15 to 18 percent rate, which nearly
corresponds to the WHO recommended range. In contrast, the rate of ce-

316

sarean births in private maternity clinics far exceeds the level WHO considers
justifiable. Determining the actual rate in such institutions is difficult because
cesarean birth rates are considered an indication of a hospital’s standards of
efficiency—the lower the rate, the better. Institutions that have high rates of
such births are therefore reluctant to reveal their figures and to justify their
methods.

Some estimates do circulate informally, however. One doctor confided to
me that he believed the rate of cesarean sections in a particular San José clinic
was about 80 percent. Another estimate is possible by extrapolating the experi-
ence of 375 students who attended my childbirth classes over a five—year period.
Among these women, 33 percent of the deliveries were by cesarean section.
Even within this group of students, however, statisticsvary greatly from hospi-
tal to hospital and from one doctor to another. I/Vhatever the estimate used, the
rate of cesarean—section births in Costa Rica is too high.

Why should such a high rate exist? Is there some peculiar set of circum-
stances in Costa Rican living conditions—some aspect of diet, climate, or
national genetic make-up—that produces this high rate? This is not a likely
answer. Many factors determine whether a woman will have a natural vaginal
birth, a medicated (epidural) normal birth, or a cesarean—section birth. Some

of these factors are cultural, determined by the country or society in which the

woman lives or was brought up. Culture—related factors such as religion, val-
ues, or the nature of human relationships are important. Other relevant fac-
tors are individual and are determined by the woman’s personality, her par-
ticular doctor, her attitude toward pain and birth, her socioeconomic status,
and her physical condition. In the context of cesarean births, individual factors
acquire increased importance when the medical reasons for surgery are not
convincing——in other words, when the cesarean section appears to have been
performed for emotional reasons relating to the woman or because the doctor
personally preferred surgical deliveries.

To determine which of these variables might be producing the high rate of
cesarean births among Costa Rican women, I compiled data based on my ob-
servations of 375 pregnant women who attended twenty—five childbirth prepa-
ration courses I taught in a five—year period between 1987 and 1992. Although
these women are not representative of Costa Rican women as a whole—the
upper—middle and upper classes are overrepresented in the sample—their ex-
periences nevertheless provide insight into the high incidence of cesarean-
section births in Costa Rica. The results follow.

The Predictability of Cesarean-Section Births 317

Predicting Cesarean-Section Births Among
Childbirth-Class Participants

Background

As a certified childbirth educator, I have taught classes in Costa Rica on child-
birth preparation since 1986. During that time, I have become increasingly
concerned about the high incidence of cesarean-section births. Although
many cesareans are necessary, many others are not. I have come to believe that
cesareans are sometimes performed for nonmedical reasons because two atti-
tudes coincide: Some doctors believe women do not need the chance to deliver
their children normally, and some women feel incapable of handling the birth
experience. Together, they become accomplices in an excessive cesarean birth
rate. Consider the following two hypothetical situations:

Marcela squeals with delight when the woman to her right at a baby shower says her
labor began well but ended in a cesarean section. Marcela blurts out, “Isn’t it
fantastic? They put you out, no pain, so nice and tidy, and there’s your baby. Don’t
you think so?” Marcela is expecting her second, and with childlike eyes she says
mischievously she wouldn’t change having a baby abdominally “for anything in the
world.”

Dr. Gonzalez sits patiently, and without fixing his gaze on Maria del Carmen, he
comforts her, telling her that everything she is feeling is normal. He assures her that
when the time comes, he will handle things and now he looks over to her husband
and says “Well, she is rather narrow and since her mother did deliver her by ce-
sarean, of course, there is the possibility. . . . But,” he adds, “one cannot interfere
with God’s wishes, and at least it is a simple procedure with no risk to the baby
and”—he winks—“no stretching out of place for the mother.” As he shows them out
he says, “Now be a good girl and don’t you worry.”

Marcela gives herself away. All Costa Rican women are not like Marcela but
neither is she unusual. Because Marcela is not the type to take a childbirth
education course, she is not part of my study, but residuals of her attitude are.
And are all doctors like Dr. Gonzalez? No, but many will become patronizing if
their patients don’t resist it. Dr. Gonzalez could go either way, depending on
how forthright his patient is. This common doctor’s office scene shows the
doctor’s testing ground—he suggests the idea of a cesarean, and without inter-
ference, the patient’s acceptance will grow with each visit.

Why are there so many cesarean-section births among private clinic pa-
tients? Apart from the specific training of a given obstetrician—as a rule, Costa

318 Iemiifer Kozlow—Rodrz’guez

Rican physicians receive their medical training at home and go abroad, mostly
to the United States, for specialties such as obstetrics—and the technological
“temptations” available to them, both doctor and patient may offer each other
the opportunity to establish a new norm for birthing, almost as if it were a
status symbol of their unique social attitudes. In such cases, the outcome of
the birth as a cesarean section will be based on the patient’s attitudes or the
doctor’s preference for surgical deliveries. I hypothesize that at least half the
cesareans of students in my classes are of this nonmedical nature.

The Variables

Table 34.1 is based on twenty-five childbirth preparation courses I taught
between 1987 and 1992 and the birth experiences of the students in those
classes. The observations cover 375 couples. My reasons for developing this
table were two: to identify women at risk for a medicated and/ or a cesarean
birth and to help women understand what will enable them to achieve their
childbirth goals. The table ultimately also highlights factors affecting cesarean-
section abuse and therefore helps clarify the true ratio of necessary cesareans
among the students.

In the analysis of my observations, 1 assigned values ranging from o (lowest)
to 3 (highest) for each of five variables: personality, doctor’s rate of cesarean
sections, woman’s attitude about pain and birth, woman’s socioeconomic sta-
tus, and woman’s physical condition. The scores represent degrees of risk of
cesarean birth. When scores for the five individual categories are totaled, they
give a combined score representing a woman’s total risk of cesarean—section
birth. The lower the total score for the individual, the better the chance of a
natural birth. The higher the score, the more likely the risk of cesarean section.
Deliveries with an epidural anesthesia fall within the middle scores. A score of
3 in any one category is enough reason to consider the woman a high—risk case.
If a woman with a low score for nonmedical risks has a cesarean, this only adds
credibility that the surgery was medically necessary. Of course, a natural birth
is not necessarily everyone’s first choice. Some women feel they could give
birth naturally but do not see the point of attempting it.

I based the point scores on my assessment of the students during the nine
class sessions of each course. The students also answered questions about fear,
change, how they viewed themselves as mothers, what mattered to them, and
so on. On two occasions they completed written questionnaires. I relied on my
intuition and experience in the category of the woman’s personality.

The Predictability of Cesarean-Section Births 319

Table 34.1. Factors Predicting Cesarean Birth

Active Participant Passive Observer
Factor Score 0 1 2 3
Pregnant Woman’s assertive, out— neither extreme; submissive; hus- nervous; jittery;
Personality spoken, knows often from band does all clingy;
, what she wants; other Latin- the talking in immature
reads about American class; soft-
birth; often countries spoken; mostly
Anglo- Costa Rican
European women
Doctora Social Security 26-36% cesarean medically conser- 76- 100% cesarean
hospitals; more rate vative; 37-75% rate
open to alterna— cesarean rate;
tives, liberal; patronizing
usually younger;
15-25% ce-
sarean rate
Pregnant Woman’s anti—intervention- normal anxiety no intention of open verbal indif-
Attitude About ist; sees birth as level; realistic trying for non- ference to hav-
Pain and Birth personal about birth medicated birth; ing cesarean
challenge complains a lot
about preg-
nancy; doting
husband
Pregnant Woman’s middle middle upper, or well— constrained by
Socioeconomic known family; family connec-
Status known to have tion to doctor,
money; possibly who is friend of
Jewish; single family or
woman relative
Pregnant Woman’s excellent; feels normal bed rest pre- multiple births;
Physical great, is active; scribed; over— low—lying pla-
Condition strong ability to weight before centa over cer-
handle stress; pregnancy; vix; verified total
athletic, at times gains over 45 CPD‘°; malpre-

competitive, ex-

perience; has ex-

perienced yoga,
relaxation ex-
ercises prior to
pregnancy

lbs.; teenager;
has had prob-
lems getting
pregnant; older
than societal
norms dictate or
accept for giving
birth (37 or
older)

sentation; ma-
ternal condi-
tions going 12-
14 days past due
date; medical
conditions that
make a normal
birth less likely,
depending on
doctor’s style

a. The assessment underlying the classification of doctors in the three categories is based on their cesarean rates

with my students only.

b. Cephalo-Pelvic-Disproportion

THE woMAN’s PERSONALITY

The two main personality types in the classes were what I call passive observer
or active participant. I viewed this as a continuum. At one extreme is the

assertive woman who has definite ideas about what she wants and is outspoken

and informed about her options. At the other extreme is the submissive, .
almost fragile woman who lets her husband do most of the talking. As she

interacts with her husband, so also does she interact with her doctor. She feels

it is not her place to disagree. Moreover, passive observers rarely add to their

learning outside of class. This variable is not a judgment of strong versus weak

character; rather it is an assessment of the outward portrayal of the woman’s

own self—image, self—confidence, and inner will. These create an impression by

which others will judge her.

Interestingly, this category easily identifies women who are foreigners, ei-
ther from another Latin American country or from North America or Europe.
Foreign women have a better chance than local women of reaching their goals,
possibly because their life in another country speaks for their having had to ac-
quire a greater independence in handling new situations. Many come from
large cities that have challenged their capacity to survive and succeed. Foreign
women of either group also have a better chance of reaching their goals because
they usually are not affected by judgments imposed by San ]osé’s elite; they
can birth anonymously. Yet there are differences among the foreign women.
Upper—class Latin American women are usually diplomatic and not very force-
ful about their needs. This leaves most North American and European (Anglo-
European) foreigners as prototypical examples of active-participant person-
ality types. In fact, in my sample, all the diverse foreign women reached their
goal of achieving a natural birth twice as often as did Costa Rican students.
They constitute 15 percent of my students (see Table 34.2).

In part, additional factors help Anglo—European women reach their goals of
natural childbirth more consistently: one is their culture’s advocacy of natural
childbirth methods and of women as leaders and as individuals who control
their own destiny and have rights to self—determination and legal protection.
Another is that they usually are not overly self-conscious about the way they
appear to their doctor or nurse during labor, so they are more likely to ask
questions (such as, “I/Vhat are you putting in my intravenous drip?”) and
to make more demands (for example, “I’d rather continue Walking than lie
down”). They also seem more willing to sacrifice their own comfort for the
sake of the baby and will opt for a natural birth because it decreases the

The Predictability of Cesarean—Secti0n Births 321

Table 34.2. Types of Birth Experience, by Patient Groupa

Anglo-European Latin-American

Women Women

Nonmedicated birth, by hospital category

Social Security hospitals 0% 10%

Private clinics 69 18

TOTAL 69 28
Medicated birth, exclusively in private clinics

Intended 5 18

Not intended 7 24

TOTAL 12 42
Cesarean section, exclusively in private clinics

Intended 0 '0

Not intended 19 30

TOTAL 19 30
TOTAL WOMEN 100 100

a. According to hospital category for nonmedicated births; according to patients’ preference for
medicated births or cesarean sections.

incidence of complications. Some of my local students seemed more con-
cerned about their own welfare and, like Marcela, willing to undergo the less
safe experience of abdominal surgery rather than suffer needlessly. In the event
of a difficult delivery, a cesarean section may be the safest option. But when
done irresponsibly, merely for the convenience of the mother or physician, it
carries far more risk of prematurity, infection, lower respiratory effort of the
newborn, and infant and maternal morbidity and mortality.

Of course, abdominal surgery means a difficult and often painful recovery,
but this is not part of a woman’s thought process when her fear of vaginal birth
is paramount. Foreign women seem to automatically rate lower scores in the
other categories like attitudes about pain and birth, which represent more of a
personal challenge and mature acceptance that pain is a necessary part of the
whole. They usually put greater emphasis on maintaining a healthy physical
and mental condition throughout pregnancy. Therefore, being a woman of
Anglo—American or European background is enough to greatly lower the risk
of a medicated or cesarean birth.

On the opposite end of the scale for this variable, the 3 score for personality
represents an abnormally nervous woman who is uncomfortable with child-

322 Ienmfer Kozlow-Rodriguez

birth classes, cannot watch birth videos, is almost visibly jittery, and is un-
usually clingy and dependent on her husband.

THE DOCTOR

The most important decision a woman will make when planning her birth
experience is her choice of doctor. This decision alone will greatly affect the
outcome. When her cervix is dilating from 5 to 10 centimeters, almost any
woman—no matter how assertive or self—confident, and no matter what her
prior ideas about labor—will consider anesthesia. Of paramount importance
for the woman in this difficult period is her husband’s reaction to her, but even
more influential is her doctor’s reaction. Some doctors don’t like the helpless-
ness or loss of omnipotence they feel when a woman is acting irrationally and
obviously struggling with her self—control. How does the doctor react as the
ultimate authority in the presence of her panicky self—doubt? The woman in
labor wonders if everyone else is doubting her as well. Since the doctor is
the expert, if he or she—roughly 10 percent of Costa Rican obstetricians are
women—thinks the expectant mother should use anesthesia, it must be the
case that she can’t make it otherwise. The strongest women are vulnerable and
scared during this phase of labor and need added assurance and support to
reach their goal. With a doctor who works with the woman in a hands-on,
“you— ccm—make—it-through-this” stance, the woman soon reaches her goal and
lives with an incredible sense of accomplishment for having done so. But
unfortunately for those women who truly desire a nonmedicated birth, most
doctors routinely suggest anesthesia because they see no contraindications that
cannot be resolved medically. Rarely do they consider the psychological conse-
quences of their actions for a woman’s self—image. Obstetricians also may
prefer a medicated birth because it becomes more manageable, predictable,
and, possibly, lucrative. (Some doctors are their own anesthesiologists.)
Pregnant women may experience a delicate emotional balance that affects
how they choose their doctors. Authors on preparation for birth have sug-
gested that women who feel powerless before authority figures will in all
likelihood select physicians who will take care of things (see, for example,
Rahima Baldwin and Terra Palmarin, 1986). During her monthly prenatal
visits, the woman is sending a message to her doctor about how active a role
she plans to take during delivery. How important is the birth experience for
her and her husband? Does she always come with her husband or mother and
let one or the other of them do most of the talking? How firm is her tone of
voice? What is her style of dressing? V\/hat does her body language say about

The Predictability of Cesarean-Section Births 323

how important she thinks her feelings are? Does she phone the doctor often
about mild discomforts rather than deal with them herself? The obstetrician is
naturally going to respond to each patient individually according to an assess-
ment of these and other factors during the prenatal visits.

But not every doctor will take advantage of an insecure patient. Doctors
differ in their judgments about the point at which they intervene and how
drastically they deal with anomalies. Liberal doctors wait longer, try other
options, consider the couple’s feelings on the matter, avoid unnecessary inter-
ventions, and get a second opinion. Medically conservative doctors take any
variation from “textbook” labor as reason for a cesarean; they do not take
labor dynamics into consideration in addition to the other factors they weigh
before beginning a medical intervention. Instead, they intervene when women
go five to seven days beyond the due date, operate three to six hours after
membranes have ruptured, and refuse to allow the woman to attempt a vaginal
birth after a cesarean, to name a few examples. The delivery comes down to an
enactment of the doctor’s own personal beliefs about the nature of childbirth.

Many of the high—cesarean—rate doctors truly believe they are doing the
woman a favor by not putting her through labor. And plenty of women are
happy to oblige them rather than confront their tremendous fears about pain
and birth. Many women would like to change doctors but feel obligated to
stay because their conservative doctor is a friend of the family and it “wouldn’t
look right.” This personal relationship can at times be a liability. The doctor
almost takes advantage of the confidence and, knowing no doubts will be
expressed, performs a cesarean, claiming that the woman was too small—boned
(an excuse that almost flatters the figure—conscious woman), was presumably
deficient of amniotic fluid, had an aged or calcified placenta, or a baby in a
less than optimal position (4% of all fetal positions). Mortimer Rosen and
Lillian Thomas have suggested that women have a better chance of avoiding
unnecessary cesareans if they form a strong relationship with their obstetri-
cians (1989).  

In sum, a woman may have a low score in all areas of Table 34.1 except that
of her doctor, but this will still be enough to put her at risk for a cesarean
section. .4

CCSS hospitals offer whichever obstetrician, resident, or nurse—midwife is
on duty. They do not provide epidural anesthesia and, because of the cost to
themselves, they perform far fewer cesarean sections than privately owned
clinics. The 10 percent of the students in this study who went to the Social
Security Services hospitals could therefore be more confident than private
clinic patients that their cesarean was necessary. S

324 Iennifer Kozlow—Rodrz’guez

Doctors receiving a score of 1 in Table 34.1 do not always use epidurals and
do recommend childbirth classes. Doctors who received a score of 2 do not
usually recommend classes and always use medication, thereby putting the
women at a higher risk for a cesarean. The score of 3 was reserved for one
doctor in San Jose. During the four years with the students I am reporting on, I
had only twelve of his patients, but all had cesarean—section births. Of course,
the assessment underlying the classification of doctors in the three categories is
based on their cesarean rates with my students only. Considering that these
students are almost entirely nulliparas (giving birth for the first time), these
are very high rates since they do not include high repeat cesareans after the
initial one.

ATTITUDE ABOUT PAIN IN BIRTH

In one class of the course we talk about personal experiences with pain-
physical or emotional. Some women cannot recall even having had a bad
headache. Interestingly enough, people who have never experienced pain tend
to show more fear of it. Obviously those who have experienced pain have also
learned they can live through it. An experience like birthing can be the most
character- and self—esteem—building milestone in a woman’s life. Yet, if she is
unsuccessful in achieving the birth she thinks she is capable of, she may revert
more deeply to feelings of passivity, as do the many cesarean—section mothers
who subsequently never attempt a vaginal birth.

The Costa Rican women in my classes exhibit a genteel quality; they are un-
usually polite and rarely outspoken. They almost never criticize their husbands
or doctors in public or speak excitedly; an outburst of emotion would be in
bad taste. Their controlled self—portrayal creates obstacles for dealing with
realities of child bearing. The more natural the birth image, the more contra-
dictory their feelings. One of my videos of a home birth consistently produces
feelings of awkwardness in class and questions about why the woman took off
all her clothes. Having the baby she could not help, they say, but did she have to
do it naked? They cannot imagine doing that. The media image of birth has so
alienated these women from the birth process that they feel more like aristo-
cratic mannequins than womenwith bodies capable of having babies.

The lowest risk in the pain category, score 0, is for women who see the path
toward birth as a natural one with its own rhythm and speed, where interven-
tions “in case of a problem” are unwarranted. These women may be a bit
idealistic about the pain involved but they truly see themselves as capable of
handling labor. A score of 1 on this variable represents a more balanced expec-
tation; scores of 2 and 3 represent irrational phobias about not being able to

The Predictability of Cesarean-Section Births 325

Costa Rican men seem to have been unaware that women, as a group, had
proved their patriotism from at least the time of their protests during the first
decades of the twentieth century. And given that women expected for them-
selves few of the “democratic” liberties they were defending, the women’s
efforts were perhaps more patriotic than the similar efforts of Costa Rican '
men. Women were always ready to give aid in critical moments to protect
rights whose enjoyment was beyond their reach.

More Than the Vote

Recognition in the 1949 Constitution of women’s right to vote closed the
chapter of suffragism. The loud voices raised by the feminists of the 1930s and
1940s softened in later decades because they were satisfied that their wish had
been granted. The younger women, though, came to understand that they had
barely won a first battle and the vote was only the beginning of new struggles
about to start.

Now that the phase of suffragism has been overcome, we women have
become aware that by gaining the right to vote we have attained only half of
our political rights. The other half is our right to be elected, and that we have
not yet achieved. Since 1949, the year in which the Constitution gave us the
vote, the female representation in the Legislative Assembly has reached barely 6
percent. Only 10 percent of labor union jobs and 11 percent of municipal
positions are held by women. In some presidential administrations, women
have not occupied a single ministerial post; in others, such as the one of
President Oscar Arias Sanchez, whose election campaign slogan spoke of a
“Costa Rica with the soul of a woman,” the highest post for which a woman
was named was vice minister. In the following administration, that of Presi-
dent Rafael Angel Calderon (1990-94), the cabinet included two women min-
isters. When the Proyecto de Ley sobre la Igualdad Real de la Mujer (Bill for
Women’s True Equality) suggested that in the decade of the 1990s at least 30
percent of high political posts should be occupied by women, the argument
was raised that such a measure would be discriminatory against men (see
Ansorena, chap. 12 below, and Badilla, chap. 13 below). Yet, very few seem to
understand that a Legislative Assembly in which 94 percent of the members are
men constitutes solid proof of the discrimination against women.

The feminist movement of today must therefore set itself other goals. We
want, exactly as Doris Stevens announced in 1928, the restoration of the rights
that were taken from us. And we are not willing to give one inch in this long

Diflerent Times, Women, Visions 11

withstand the pain. Women who fall into the 2 and 3 range have no intention
of avoiding medication—they don’t think they could. They therefore down-
play the importance of avoiding complications, experiencing birth in full
awareness, or suffering pain because it is safer than surgery. They subtly insin-
uate (score of 2) or openly state (score of 3) that a cesarean would be better.
Sixty percent of those who imply or state this preference end up with a ce-
sarean. The importance of determining which women will use epidurals is that
they can become more susceptible to having a cesarean because of such atti-
tudes. Often, the husbands are doting and overly protective of their wives.

SOCIOECONOMIC STATUS

The women in my classes are not representative of Costa Rican women as a
whole. Many are members of the upper—middle to upper class, and many were
raised in a protected world. Most appear to be passive observers despite the
sense that they command great attention. Partly as a result of Catholicism, the
national religion, and of the patriarchal system, these women simply accept
what God has decided for them—after all, God has done pretty well by them so
far. Their own mothers felt it was not their place to interfere with decisions
made by the men in their lives, and they did have influence although they
enforced it indirectly by manipulation. The goal set for many of these women
in their childhood was to be dependent on a “good” husband rather than to
weather the hard world out there independently. Many had no experience
handling changes or crises—like going away to college, traveling, or living on
their own in big cities—and this puts them at a disadvantage. Without having
learned that they can handle difficult moments and become stronger people,
these women maintain traditional ways of dealing with problems, which keeps
them from taking the responsibility for becoming active participants.

These students feel obliged to behave as is expected of them according to
their social standing in society, and thereby to maintain their socioeconomic
status. Only certain stylish maternity clothes, certain imported strollers and
car seats, and certain obstetricians are acceptable. Being exposed to society’s
judgment of their behavior increases their anxiety. Such students fear appear-
ing foolish, and that fear is greater for them than it is for other women who,
because of their social class, birth anonymously. The self-inflicted expectations
of the passive-observer students play on their doubts about being able to pull
off this birth “performance” with any integrity. They usually give in to an
epidural anesthesia in order to “play it safe,” for image’s sake. Cesarean sec-
tions are almost proof that they had the means to buy their way out of an

326 Iennifer Kozlow-Rodriguez

unpleasant situation (i.e., labor). The local women who do reach their birth
objectives are women who tend to gain their self—worth independently of what
others believe.

The scores 0 and 1 are self-explanatory. The score of 2 for this variable
contains interesting possibilities other than just being wealthy. A couple could
carry a well—known family name without actually having a lot of money. Their
parents may be recognized as running a successful business or owning a local
company. Simply being Jewish is included in this category because there is a
high correlation in San Jose between being Jewish and working in traditional
high—income occupations—business, the sciences, and the professions. A mix
of upper—class social relations, specific class standing, personal preferences,
and related nonmedical factors may account for this phenomenon. Being a
single expectant mother also puts a woman into the high—risk category, be-
cause such women often have little motivation to “prove” themselves.

THE woMAN’s PHYSICAL CONDITION

The low—risk scores of o and 1 go to expectant women who eat health-
conscious diets and allow themselves to gain only what is appropriate prior to
the onset of labor. These women enjoy their pregnancies, continuing to work,
exercise, and relax. They handle stress well, and they rarely need to call the
doctor. A score of 2 represents women for Whom bed rest has been prescribed
(20% of my students have been told at some time to rest and not to work or
drive. I attribute this high rate to the doctor’s perception of the woman as
sickly, an impression the women themselves may have conveyed.) They may be
overweight to begin with or may have gained over 45 pounds. Teenagers are at
a higher risk as well, as are women who had problems getting pregnant. What
matters here is the woman’s perception of how healthy she is.

A score of 3 represents valid medical reasons that merit cesarean sections.
The score is limited to medical conditions recognized prior to the onset of
labor, since the table is designed to predict high—risk women during their
pregnancies, not to reflect all reasons for all cesarean sections.

The Role of Costa Rican Husbands in the Childbirth Classes

Husbands play an important role in childbirth classes and seem to affect a
woman’s risk of delivery by cesarean section. Of the women who attended
classes alone, 62 percent had cesarean—section births. Having a nonattending
mate apparently puts these students at high risk, possibly because they were

The Predictability of Cesarean-Section Births 327

more Vulnerable to doctors wanting to take the “caretaker” or “patronizer”
role.

An interesting observation was that Costa Rican husbands at this socioeco-
nomic level do not necessarily fit the image of the nonparticipatory, dominat-
ing and stereotypical Latin macho. Yet the husband’s participation may have
various explanations. On the one hand, it seems that the higher the socioeco-
nomic status is, the less stereotypically macho the man will be. The exposure to
other cultures may play a role, or the true sense of sharing with his wife in a
team effort. I saw more men taking the initiative in Costa Rica than I did while
teaching in the United States. During the first class, some men made nervous
wisecracks or displayed a stony indifference, but this phase dissipated as they
came to understand the seriousness of their role. Once they learned the extent
to which coaching can enhance the birth experience, their sense of respon-
sibility overcame their feelings of inadequacy so that the husband participated
often more than his wife. In fact, the more passive observer the wife was, the
more involved was the husband. Thus, the strong-man notion may have led
the husband to think, “IfI do not take the initiative in coaching my wife, who
will?” In some cases, the man’s participation may even have created fear in his
wife about being able to live up to his expectations, and the result was that she
talked a lot about using anesthesia.

This scenario seems to fortify the woman’s dependence on her husband as
the provider. The husband fulfills the cultural expectation of caring for his wife,
even during labor. This dependence is particularly strong in women who want
medicated births because they feel incapable of handling the birth experience.
Some show great anxiety over the possibility of being separated from their
husbands during labor since they have openly handed over to their husbands
the responsibility for relaxation, breathing, and maintaining control. Though
the husband enjoys the wife’s confidence, he may also be overwhelmed.

In some cases, women seemed to underestimate their husbands and pre-
vented them from participating in birthing because of their own fear of failing.
If a woman believes in her strength to survive independently, she knows that
having the baby’s father present as an equal, and not as her authority, will add
respect and beauty to their union. By wanting him to share in the birth, she
takes a big step toward believing in herself.

Initially, most men in my classes were skeptical about the importance of
their participation. They felt at a disadvantage, their mothers—in—law being
their biggest competition. Often, especially with passive observers, the preg-
nant woman’s mother is still dominant in her life, and the woman has yet to

328 Ienmfer Kozl0w—R0dr1’guez

identify herself as a soon—to—be mother in her own right. About 30 percent of
all the women spent part of their postpartum period in their parents’ home,
often with a nurse. This arrangement implies that the new mother is incapable A
of coping alone, a message these women had heard throughout their lives. I
generally recommend that the mother not arrive until the laboring woman is
about to go into delivery. Her husband is perfectly capable of caring for her,
and he needs to believe this as much as she does.

Conclusion

The findings in this analysis raise ethical concerns: any cesarean that can be
predicted for reasons other than medical ones is theoretically unethical. As
stated earlier, doctors and women can be accomplices in an excessive cesarean
rate. Table 34.1 is a predicting tool that lends credibility to the cesareans that
are necessary. An analysis of it can, for example, indicate that if a woman with
a score of less than 5 has a cesarean delivery, she has had it for sound medical
reasons. But there is no margin of error given for this table because the results
can never be tested. All the scores can do is evoke caution and suspicion for
women at high risk or credibility and confidence for women at low risk.

Consider two scenarios. Scenario A features an outspoken, self—confident
foreign woman, who is an excellent student, misses no childbirth classes,
practices diligently, swims and walks daily, and anticipates with enthusiasm
the experience of giving birth.

She chooses a doctor whom a neighbor recommended. (This doctor would,
because of his history, receive a score of 2 in Table 34.1.) Labor starts slowly. She
is admitted to the clinic with a one-centimeter dilation. Progress is slow, and
medical personnel decide to augment the contractions with medication. Then
they break the sac containing the amniotic fluid. This creates a strong labor
dynamic, but progress is still slow. The doctor, calling the condition “failure to
progress,” decides to do a cesarean at 4—centimeter dilation, eight hours after
labor started. He claims the “failure to progress” was due to “cephalopelvic
disproportion” (CPD). And maybe it was. Another doctor (with a score of
zero) would probably not have admitted her so early, would not have aug-
mented the labor, and would not have intervened at that point. A cesarean may
have resulted nonetheless, but the credibility of the decision would have been
stronger.

In scenario B, a second student, a Costa Rican, thinks only about how
painful labor will be, and she fails to take seriously her breathing and relaxa-

The Predictability of Cesarean—Secti0n Births 329

tion exercises. This student has a combined score of eight. Labor begins and
from the beginning she is in pain. Progress is slow. 111 at ease, she tenses up with
each contraction. By the time she reaches a dilation of 3 centimeters, she is
crying and asking the doctor how long she needs “to suffer before he does
something.” This labor ends in a cesarean for an angry mother who feels her
doctor should have intervened even earlier. Her “failure to progress” was
probably due to her uncooperative, fear—ridden state rather than to any physi-
cal handicap.

Although these two scenarios are hypothetical, they reflect the experiences
of many students in my classes. Of the 375 women in this analysis, 124 had
cesarean sections. Breaking these 124 cases down by total scores for all catego-
ries in Table 34.1, 75 (60%) of them had scores of 7 or higher; 18 (15%) scored 6
points; and 31 (25%) scored 5 or lower.

Estimating how many cesareans were truly due to medical reasons in each
group, I would calculate that only 15 of the 75 women with relatively high—risk
scores of 7 and above—that is 20 percent——were medically justified cesareans,
compared with 9 (50%) of the 18 women with scores of 6; and 25 (80%) of the
31 women with scores of 5 and lower. Thus, of the 375 couples, 49 women, or 13
percent, had valid cesareans that were influenced only by medical factors.

Jessica Lipnack (1989) says about childbirth that “both parents and profes-
sionals in the birthing field are realizing the importance of a positive birth ex-
perience. As a result, the balance of power . . . is . . . shifting . . . from the doctor
to the parent(s) and child. . . . A woman must decide whether she wants to de-
fine her own desires or put herself into the hands of the medical establishment.”

Costa Rica follows the birth patterns of the United States. As women feel
more independent of traditional authority figures, they expect more for them-
selves and take care to provide choices for their most important life changes.
Childbirth classes bring enablement. Not all couples take a preparation course,
but those who do are asking for a sense of empowerment. They begin the
process of feeling more like active participants. The cesarean rate among non-
students at private clinics is bound to be high since they don’t have the skills
that give them every possible advantage. Taking classes, then, is a first step, and
a commitment.

Table 34.1 is a tool based on five years of observations of the factors that
differentiate women in my classes. It will undergo years of being tested as a
predictor of high—risk situations. As each couple graduates from my courses,_I
will include their scores and await verification when their baby is born. The
new data will help me adjust the table until its efficiency is optimal. I contend

330 Iennifer Kozlow-Rodriguez

that the elaboration of Table 34.1 is accurate in general terms. It will be fine
tuned as further experiences warrant.

Postscript

In the eighteen months since completing this study, I have witnessed a consis-
tent private-clinic cesarean—section rate of 48 to 58 percent. This may reflect a
rise in the apparent acceptance of or lack of objection to this new norm in
birthing procedures. Pregnant women say,

“It is not my place to question my doctor.”

“I’m afraid of making a fool of myself.”  

“I definitely want anesthesia, and if it’s got to be a cesarean, so be it.”

“I don’t consider myself very strong, physically or mentally.”

“I’m not accustomed to defending my rights.”

Moreover, the ever-present advantage to the doctor—it takes less time, is
performed at a conveniently scheduled hour, brings in more money, covers all
possibilities of apparent negligence in a legal suit—together with the per-
sistence of family members’ ignorant belief that it is safer for the baby to avoid
the mother’s birth canal, may account for this perturbing tendency.

Childbirth education still has a long way to go before Costa Rican women
fully realize their right and privilege to make choices about the way they give
birth; to see the harmonious, the beautiful, and the healthful in the natural
way to give birth; and to fight the various notions that move women to accept
cesareans.

Biodata

Jenny Kozlow-Rodriguez is a certified childbirth educator. Born in Detroit, she has
taught in the United States and, since 1986, in Costa Rica, where she resides with her hus-
band and three children. As founder of the organization Previda—a multidisciplinary,
adult—education company that specializes in addressing parenting skills beginning with
childbirth education—she teaches prenatal courses, but also parenting, first aid for chil-
dren, sibling preparation, and sex education courses. She also publishes and edits Padres
de Hay (Today’s Parents)—an annual social—service magazine supported by adver-
tisers—which serves as a free supplement to prenatal courses throughout Costa Rica, as
well as a pregnancy calendar that will eventually be available throughout Latin America.

References

Baldwin, Rahima, and Terra Palmarin. 1986. Pregnant Feelings. Berkeley, Calif.: Celes-
tial Arts.

The Predictability of Cesarean—Secti0n Births 331

International Childbirth Education Association. 1989. Childbirth Fact Sheet. Minneap-
olis, Minn.: ICEA.

Lipnack, Jessica. 1989. “A New Attitude Toward Birth.” New Age Iournal (September-
October): 69.

Rosen, Mortimer, and Lillian Thomas. 1989. The Cesarean Myth. New York: Viking
Penguin/ Penguin Books.

332 ]e1miferK0zlow-Rodriguez

CONCLUSION

Conclusion for an Action-Oriented
Research Agenda,

by Ilse Abshagen Leitinger

Women’s support group at annual WoIhen’s March Aga’inst Violence,
November 24, 1995

THE CONCLUSION TO THIS READER highlights the contrasts and contradic-
tions in current Costa Rican society, the continuing diversity of the women’s
movement and feminism, and the contribution to overall Costa Rican de-
velopment that this diversity will enable women to make. It also offers sugges-
tions for future research in the field.

The insiders’ contributions in this collection allow the reader to explore the
distinct character of Costa Rican Women’s experiences. They confirm that
while in some ways these experiences are similar to those of women elsewhere
on the continent, in others they differ significantly from what is happening in
the Women’s movement and feminism in Latin American societies in general
(Miller, 1992).

Thus the articles present truly a “context of contrasts and contradictions,”
as I suggested in the introduction to this Reader. On the one hand, they
illustrate the often perplexing mix of features that are unique to Costa Rica,
among them Costa Ricans’ historic isolation and poverty as well as their pro-
verbial human warmth and kindness; a strong, at times inconsiderate individ-
ualism, frequently hidden behind a front of nonconfrontational behavior; and
a traditional commitment to the family rather than to the larger community.
On the other hand, they describe the effect upon Costa Rica of worldwide,
twentieth—century phenomena of change, such as growing ethnic and cultural
diversity, growing socioeconomic inequality increasingly accompanied by vio-
lence, and expanding linkages with and dependence upon the outside world.

Throughout this complexity appears—in the society as a whole but par-
ticularly among women—a great desire to uncover Women’s active participa-
tion in history and demand compliance with and respect for the legal equality
and human rights of women, a growing readiness to identify women’s prob-
lems and an impressive willingness to debate formerly taboo issues, a felt need
to redefine the role of women in society and in politics, and to act upon new
insights. Guiding this process is a sophistication that has brought a deeper
understanding to all women about the diverse roots-—synthesized here as the
political, the theoretical-philosophical, the grassroots, and the individual-
efficacy roots—of the women’s movement and feminism in Costa Rica today.

Diversity in Women’s Situation and Actions

As for Women’s efforts to face and resolve their problems, both the women’s
movement and feminism are getting stronger, even though they are still far
from including or even reaching out to every woman in the country. The

334 Ilse Abshagen Leitinger

authors do not suggest a likelihood of fusion between the two almost parallel
tendencies, even though some organizations within the women’s movement
are moving slowly in the direction of feminism. In Costa Rica as elsewhere,
disagreements among organizations and institutions exist, but the parallelism
and the multiplicity within both tendencies are an asset not a liability. Women
of diverse convictions or ideological persuasions can locate some place in
which they will find empathy and an invitation to participate. Overall, though,
the authors clearly detect a rise in women’s awareness, and, yes, in feminist
consciousness.

At the same time, more important than differences between the women’s
movement and feminism are their similarities because they allow women to
come together. United by their common urgent needs, women are looking
beyond their philosophical disagreements. Feminists as well as members of the
women’s movement share an orientation toward action—academics call it
investigacién-accién, or action-oriented research—and a readiness to engage in
dialogue. Moreover, in both tendencies women face the necessity that they
must learn how to gain power and manage it. They must learn organizational
and management skills, whether they hope to accomplish projects among
themselves, as do the women in CASEM, the crafts cooperative (see Leitinger,
chap. 23 above), or to participate within society as a whole—be it demonstrat-
ing for men’s democratic rights (see Calvo, chap. 1 above) or working for
women’s right to vote (see Sharratt, chap. 8 above) or running as a candidate
for president (see Iiménez, M., chap. 21 above).

Costa Rican women’s orientation toward action and their willingness to
take risks has produced a tendency among women professionals to dare to
cross disciplinary boundaries and to work interdisciplinarily more easily than
elsewhere. If they believe it is necessary, they will attack problems, even in areas
in which they are not specialists; in some cases, they may be the only individ-
uals around with some training or with enough concern and energy to address
a problem (see Escamilla and Vargas, chap. 10 above).

As they continue their fight for equality, Costa Rican women can build on
the relative openness of their society and its people’s willingness to engage in
dialogue. They can also count on a noticeable rise in institutionalization of
processes of analysis, treatment, justice, job training, consciousness raising,
and development of self—respect and efficacy.

This specific societal context gives women a chance to make their own
unique contribution toward changing the traditionally patriarchal top—down
management into a new and more appropriate way of bottom—up decision

Conclusion for an Action—Oriented Research Agenda 335

12

battle to recover what belongs to us. The goal is no longer one of votingor not
voting.\/Vhat we are insisting is that we shall make our mark, in whatever field
we choose to do so.

Biodata

Yadira Calvo Fajardo is a philologist, lecturer, essayist, and writer. Until August 1993 she
was a professor at the Universidad de Costa Rica and at the Universidad Autonoma de
Centro América (UACA) (Autonomous University of Central America). She is now
retired and devoting herself to freelance writing and to work as a contributor for the
San Jose newspaper La Repiiblica. Her books include La mujer, victima y co’mplice
[ Women: Victims and accomplices], published in 1981, with a second edition scheduled;
Literatura, mujer y sexismo [ Literature, women, and sexism], 1984, second edition, 1991;
Angela Acuna: Forjadora de estrellas [Angela Acuna, forging stars], 1989; Las Lineas
Torcidas del Derecho [The twisted reasoning of the law], 1993, and De Diosas a Dragones
(From goddesses to dragons]. She received the 1989 prize in the essay category of the
Universidad Nacional’s annual UNA—Palabra (Words at UNA) literary competition;
the prize was for her work on sexist language, A la mujer por la palabra. The title, a
takeoff on the proverb, “El que toma a la anguila por la cola y a la mujer por la palabra
no toma pez ni toma nada,” translates loosely as, “If you try to take an eel by the tail or
women by their word, you don’t get anything.” In 1990, she was awarded the Aquileo I.
Echeverria prize, also in the essay category, for the same work.

References

Acufia, Angela. 1969. La mujer costarricense a través de cuatro siglos, Vols. 1 and 2. San
Jose: Imprenta Nacional.

Calvo, Yadira. 1989. Angela Acufia: Forjadora de estrellas. San Jose: Editorial Costa Rica.

—-——. 1991a. “Angela Acufia y la procesion de Sanchos.” Mujer/Fempress. Special issue,
“Precursoras del feminismo en América Latina,” p. 21.

—. 1991b. “Pancha Carrasco: Del fogon al campo de batalla.” Mujer/Fempress. Special
issue, “Precursoras del feminismo en América Latina,” p. 20.

Junta de Proteccion Social de San Jose. 1989. 100 afios de vivir en paz y democracia. San
José.

Portugal, Ana Maria. 1991. “Cronologia, 1651-1961.” Mujer/Fempress. Special issue,
“Precursoras del feminismo en América Latina,” pp. 56-60.

Yadira Calvo Fajardo

making. They can also set an example to the men in their society regarding the
persistence, discipline, and organization for community action that Costa
Rican commentators who are not feminists have found so sadly lacking in
Costa Rican society (Cersosimo, 1986; Rodriguez, 1979). Will women be able to
change societal patterns in that respect?

Further Questions and Actions

As every Costa Rican woman knows, further analyses are needed to describe
and assess women’s situation and their contribution to the survival of their
society. Costa Rican women must document the historic evidence as com-
pletely as possible to make women’s social and historical roles more visible.
They must build on the many examples of women who, even though they did
not know that term, were feminists-——like Pancha Carrasco, the nineteenth-
century heroine (see Calvo, chap. 1 above) or the women demonstrating for
the female vote (see Sharratt, chap. 8 above). They must continue to push for a
gendered analysis of the diverse experiences and problem—solving practices of
women in the many ethnic groups, nationalities, and different religions in this
diverse nation, including an evaluation of the impact of various foreign influ-
ences, the type of agencies represented, and any possible contradictions arising
from these influences. This is where the search for and use of data of specific
relevance to women is essential (see Sibille, chap. 31 above).

In addition, Costa Rican women must explore not only the successes of
individual women, women’s groups, women’s organizations, women in orga-
nizations, and women in politics, but they must also seriously analyze the
reversals of women’s progress in order to learn what caused them and how to
avoid them in the next round of the fight for women’s true equality.

They must encourage problem solving through management training, flex-

ible institutionalization, and persistence, and they must build on women’s

great resource, their creative orientation toward other people.

Problems and Successes

In sum, the Reader offers a picture of problems and successes. Costa Rican
women have come a long way and still have a long way to go. But they are not
alone; women all over the world are waging similar struggles. In some ways,
Costa Rican women in the early 1990s are far behind women elsewhere in the

336 Ilse Abshagen Leitinger







world, but in other ways they are far ahead of those other women-at times,
remarkably farther ahead.
   However, although Costa Rican women receive information and inspira-
tion from their international sisterhood, they will arrive at successful solutions
only "a la Tica" (in true Tico style), respecting their local traditions and culture
even as they set out to transform them.

References
Cers6simo Guzmin, Gaetano. 1986. Los estereotipos del Costarricense. San Jose, Costa
   Rica: Editorial de la Universidad de Costa Rica.
Miller, Francesca. 1992. "The Literature of Conscientizaci6n: Women in Latin Amer-
   ica.' Latin American Research Review 27, no. 2: 18o-ol.
Rodriguez Vega, Eugenio. 1979. Apuntes para una sociologia costarricense. San Jose,
   Costa Rica: Editorial Universidad Estatal a Distancia.


Conclusion for an Action-Oriented Research Agenda 337



GLOSSARY

INDEX


Glossary

Academia Costarricense de la Lengua—Costa Rican Academy of the Language. Local
organization of the Real Academia Espafiola, which determines what constitutes
correct Spanish vocabulary or usage. .

Academia de Geografia e Historia de Costa Rica—Costa Rican Academy of Geogra-
phy and History. Belongs to the National Archives, which are part of ‘the Costa
Rican Ministry of Culture.

Afro-Caribef1o—Afro—Caribbean. Term Costa Rican social scientists use to identify
black population in Costa Rica along the Caribbean coast.

ti la Tica—In true Tico style. (The person referred to is a woman; for a man, itiwould be
81 lo Tico.)

Albergue Belén—Shelter Bethlehem. A women’s shelter in San Iosé which existed only
(under precarious conditions) from 1984-1985.

algodén—Cotton.

algodonera—Cotton mill. Women’s prison (where theymust work with cotton).

Alianza—See Asociacién Alianza de Mujeres Costarricenses.

Alianza de Cooperativas Internacional—International Alliance of Cooperatives.
NGO, to give support to cooperatives.

Alianza de Mujeres Costarricenses (AMC)—See Asociacion Alianza de Mujeres
Costarricenses.

AMC—See Asociacic’>nAlianza de Mujeres Costarricenses.

APROMUIER—See Asociacion Programa Nacional de Asesoria y Capacitacion para la
Mujer. _

Archivo Nacional.—National Archives. Collection of public records and documents,
part of Costa Rican Ministry of Culture.

Asociacion Alianza de Mujeres Costarricenses (AMC or Alianza) —Alliance of Costa
Rican Women. Oldest organization-of the Costa Rican Women’s Movement, dating
from 1952. NGO, nonprofit; national scope; mission consulting on problem solving,
women’s self-esteem, legal advice.

Asociacion Centro de Orientacion Integral—Center for Comprehensive Counseling.
A groupof San Jose professionals that opened, in 1984, the Shelter Bethlehem (see
Albergue Belén). L

Asociacion Conservacionista Monteverde (popularly Liga Conservacionista)-
Monteverde Conservation League (the League). NGO, nonprofit conservation or-
ganization in Monteverde.

Asociacion de Desarrollo Integral de (comunidad)—Integrated Development Asso-
ciation of (community name). Common name for communal development asso-
ciations, followed by name of community.

341

Asociacién de Trabajadoras Domésticas—Association of Domestic Workers. Costa
Rican NGO, cooperating with Alianza.

Asociacion Programa Nacional de Asesoria y Capacitacion para la Mujer
(APROMU]ER)—National Advisory and Training Program for Women Cooperati-
vists. Costa Rican NGO; nonprofit; founded 1987; national scope; mission is to
prepare women for participation and leadership in the cooperative movement.

Association for Women in Development (AWID)——International organization, joins
academics and professionals interested in women.

Avispa, La——The Wasp. Bar and long—time meeting place of lesbians in San Iosé.

AWID—See Association for Women in Development.

Benemeritazgo de la Patria—Award for Distinguished Citizenship. Highest honor in
Costa Rica, bestowed by Costa Rican Legislative Assembly, usually posthumously.

Benemérito(a) de la Patria——Distinguished Citizen (m/ f) of the Nation. Recipient of
Benemeritazgo.

Biblioteca Nacional—National Library. Part of the Costa Rican Ministry of Culture.

Caja Costarricense de Seguridad Social (CCSS)—Costa Rican Social Security Service.
Costa Rican public health service, supported and regulated, but not run, by govern-
ment; responsible for all hospitals that are not private; offers services to all Costa
Ricans.

Camara de Turismo (Monteverde)—(Monteverde) Chamber of Tourism.

canasta basica-—Market basket, that is, subsistence cost for a family of four.

Candidatas, Las-— The Women Candidates. Play (1942) directed against suffragists’
efforts to obtain the vote.

capellanias de misas—Chaplaincies for saying mass in colonial Costa Rica.

capital social—Social capital, obligatory contribution of CASEM cooperative mem-
bers for expense/ investment account of CoopeSE, from which they can withdraw
only if they cease to be members.

Capitania General—Regional colonial government unit during time of Spanish-
American empire, part of Spanish colonial viceroyalty.

Casa de Ensefianza de Santo Tomas, La—Santo Tomas High School. First secondary

V school in Costa Rica.

Casa de la Mujer— Women’s House. Journal of the Casa de la Mujer, published by the
Institute for Women’s Studies (IEM), at UNA.

Casa de la Mujer, La——Women’s House. Programs and support services for women at
Universidad Nacional (UNA).

Casa de la Mujer de los Barrios del Sur, La—Women’s House in the Southern Suburbs
(of San Jose).

CASEM—See Comisién de Artesanos Santa Elena-Monteverde.

caser1’o(s)—Small rural community(ies), hamlet(s).

Catedra Libre Eugenio Fonseca (UCR)—Eugenio Fonseca Lecture Series. Open lec-
ture series at the Universidad de Costa Rica (UCR), scheduled intermittently, de-
voted to changing topics.

CCCA—See Conferencia de Cooperativas del Caribe y Centroamérica.

CCSS—See Caja Costarricense de Seguro Social.

342 Glossary

CEFEMINA—See Centro Feminista de Informacion y Accion.

CELADE—See Centro Latinoamericano de Demografia.

CENECOOP—See Centro Nacional de Educacion Cooperativa.

Centro Cientifico Tropical—Tropical Science Center, San Jose. NGO, nonprofit, con-
tracts out research services, administrates Monteverde Cloud Forest Reserve.

Centro Creativo—See Centro de Educacion Creativa.

Centro Cultural Costarricense Norteamericano—U.S. Cultural Center. U.S. Infor-
mation Center in San Jose.

Centro de Cooperacién Internacional para el Desarrollo Agricola—Center of Inter-
national Cooperation for Agricultural Development (CINADCO). GO of the Israeli
Ministry of Agriculture.

Centro de Documentacion Especializado en el Tema Mujer y DesarroHo—Docu-
mentation Center Specializing in Women and Development. Part of Instituto de
Estudios de la Mujer (IEM), Universidad Nacional (UNA), together with the infor-
mation network Red Nacional de Informacion sobre Mujer y Desarrollo.

Centro de Educacién Creativa (popularly Centro Creativo)—Creative Learning Cen-
ter, Cerro Plano, Monteverde Region. Bilingual private school in Cerro Plano,
Monteverde region; curriculum based on sustainable development, environmental
protection. Awards partial scholarships to low-income families.

Centro de Estudios para la Accion Social (CEPAS)—Research Center for Social Ac-
tion. Former nongovernmental research organization, investigating development
problems, working with Costa Rican community organizations, producing training
workshops, publications. Ceased to exist in 1994.

Centro de Investigacion de Tecnologia en Alimentos (CITA)—Center for Research in
Food Technology. Research institution at the Universidad de Costa Rica (UCR).
Centro de Investigacion y Docencia en Educacion (CIDE)—Center for Research and
Teaching in Education. Formerly School of Education at the Universidad Nacional

(UNA); that is, part of the national system of higher education.

Centro Feminista de Informacion y Accion (CEFEMINA)—Feminist Center for In-
formation and Action. Early, explicitly and consciously feminist organization in San
Jose; NGO, nonprofit; founded in 1975 as Movimiento para la Liberacion de la
Mujer; became CEFEMINA in 1981; national focus, primarily urban; support to
women on many issues and daily problems through workshops, publications, con-
ferences, and political action.

Centro de Filantropia—Center for Philanthropy. Program of the Arias Foundation.

Centro Interdisciplinario de Estudios de la Mujer (CIEM)—Center for Interdisci-
plinary Women’s Studies. First Women’s Studies Institute at the Universidad Nacio-
nal (UNA), 1989-1992; replaced in 1992-1993 by the permanent Instituto de Es-
tudios de la Mujer (IEM).

Centro Latinoamericano de Demografia (CELADE)—Latin American Center of De-
mography.

Centro Nacional de Educacién Cooperativa (CENECOOP)—National Center for
Cooperativist Education. Fulfills special functions as support organism for
CONACOOP.

Glossary

343

Centro Nacional para el Desarrollo de la Mujer y la Familia (CMF; Mujer y Familia
for short)—National Center for the Development of Women and the Family. Minis-
terio de Cultura, Iuventud y Deportes (MCID). GO, part of Costa Rican Ministry of
Culture, dates from 1985; national focus; mission is support of women’s needs and
interests; training workshops, library, lectures, publications, official acts, and cele-
brations.

Centro para el Progreso Humano—Center for Human Progress. Program of the Arias
Foundation for women in Central America (see Fundacion Arias).

Centro Regional de Educacién Funcional para América Latina (CREFAL)—Regional
Center for Functional Education in Latin America. Part of UNESCO, in Mexico.

CEPAS—See Centro de Estudios para la Accion Social.

CIEM—See Centro Interdisciplinario de Estudios de la Mujer.

CIM—See Comision Interamericana de Mujeres.

CINADCO—See Centro de Cooperacion Internacional para e1Desarrollo Agricola.

CIDE—See Centro de Investigacion y Docencia en Educacion.

CITA—See Centro de Investigacion de Tecnologia en Alimentos.

CLADEM—See Comité Latinoamericano por la Defensa de los Derechos de la Mujer.

CMF—See Centro Nacional para el Desarrollo de la Mujer y la Familia.

cofradz’as—Brotherhoods, religious associations.

Colectivo Pancha Carrasco—Pancha Carrasco Collective. San Iosé women’s support
organization, NGO.

Colegio Agro-Pecuario, Santa Elena—Technical high school with emphasis on agri-
culture.

Colegio de Abogados—National Lawyers Association. Costa Rican national profes-
sional organization, a public institution regulated, but not run, by the government,
to which practicing legal professionals must belong.

Colegio de Médicos—Professional organization of medical doctors. Costa Rican na-
tional professional organization, a public institution regulated, but not run, by the
government to which medical doctors must belong.

Colegio de Nuestra Sefiora de Sién, El—Girls’ High School of Our Lady of Sion.

Colegio Superior de Sefioritas, El—Girls’ High School and Normal School-Teachers’
College.

Comisién (originally Comité) de Artesanos Santa Elena—Monteverde (CASEM)—
Artisans’ Commission (originally Committee) of Santa Elena—Monteverde. Wom-
en’s crafts cooperative, one of four parts of the Cooperativa de Servicios Multiples
Santa Elena, R.L.; highly successful commercial operation led by local women
artisans.

Comision de Honores——Honors Commission. Institution of the Costa Rican Legisla-
tive Assembly.

Comisién Interamericana de Mujeres (CIM)—Inter American Commission of
Women. Part of the Organization of American States (OAS).

Comisién Nacional de Esperanza Solidaria—National Commission of Solidary
Hope. Interdenominational organization of the Latin American Council of
Churches.

344 Glossary

Comité delNif1o Agredido—Committee for Battered Children. Part of the Children’s
Hospital of the public health service.

Comité Latinoamericano por la Defensa de los Derechos de la Mujer (CLADEM) —
Latin American Committee for the Defense of Women’s Rights. NGO, Latin Ameri-
can women’s network connected to the Institute of Human Rights, working to
protect women’s rights. Produces publications, books, and so on.

Comité Nacional de la Mujer Cooperativista—National Comittee of Women Cooper-
ativists. Established 1987; support organization for CONACOOP.

Comité Nacional por la No Violencia Contra la Mujer—National Committee for the
Prevention of Violence Against Women. In cooperation with CEFEMINA, the
Comité created Mujer N0 Estas Sola (Woman, You Are Not Alone), a national
NGO; nonprofit; founded 1988; focus on women’s self—help groups; mission is to
find an alternative for shelters.

Comité Patriético Nacional (COPAN)—National Patriotic Committee. Successor or-
ganization to Organizacion Socialista de Trabajadores (OST), a leftist party of the
1970s.

Comité por la Igualdad de la Mujer en el Deporte—Committee for Women’s Equality
in Sports. One of the programs of CEFEMINA.

Comité Regional de la Mujer Cooperativista de Centroamérica y del Caribe—Re-
gional Committee of Central American and Caribbean Women Cooperativists.
Support organism of the Conferencia de Cooperativas del Caribe y Centroamérica
(CCCA), an international organization.

compar'iero—Common-law husband, partner.

CONACOOP—See Consejo Nacional de Cooperativas.

Conferencia de Cooperativas del Caribe y Centroamérica (CCCA)—Caribbean and
Central-American Conference of Cooperatives.

“gCon la Coope? 50 sin ella?”—With the Coop? Or without it? Memo circulated
during the discussion about whether or not CASEM should formally join the
CoopeSE R.L.

Consejo Latinoamericano de Iglesias—Latin American Council of Churches.

Consejo Nacional de Cooperativas (CONACOOP)—National Council of Coopera-
tives. Costa Rican public service institution, regulated but not run by the govern-
ment.

Consejo Nacional de Rehabilitaci(’)n—National Council for Rehabilitation. Costa Ri-
can public service institution, regulated but not run by the government.

Consejo Superior Universitario Centroamericano (CSUCA)—Council of Central
American Universities. Central American institution, created in 1948 by the presi-
dents of the Central American Universities for cooperation in research. The Sub-
programa de Estudios de la Mujer operated from 1988 to 1992 with the mission of
advancing women’s studies and of training women professionals.

Cooperativa de Servicios Multiples Santa Elena R.L. (CoopeSE)——Multip1e-Service
Cooperative, Santa Elena. Cooperative in Santa Elena—Monteverde region, dating
from the 1970s. Four parts, Technical Sales/ Supermarket, Savings, Coffee, and
CASEM, the women’s crafts cooperative.

Glossary

345

2 %§ The Group Ventana
An Assessment

Rosalia Camacho, Alda Facio Montejo,
and Ligia Martin

The contributions of the group Ventana (Window) will probably not be docu-
mented in patriarchal history, just as the contributions of many of our pre-
decessors in the struggle to achieve a society that will offer justice for women
have not been acknowledged. If our accumulated experience is to benefit
younger groups in Costa Rica today, we must ensure that the significant theo-
retical and practical contributions Ventana has made toward strengthening the
Costa Rican feminist movement are recorded. Although Ventana does not
presently carry out any formal projects, Ventana played an important role in
Costa Rican Feminism.

Ventana was one of the first organizations in Costa Rica to call itself feminist
and to espouse self-consciousness and pursue a specific project—a magazine
directed principally at professional women—with the goal of reaching other
women. In 1981 we, a group of university women, began to meet to discuss the
form in which we might publicize feminist theory and practice, both little
known at that time. Worse than the lack of knowledge of Feminism was the
fact that most of the women at the university had an erroneous understanding
of the substance of the feminist movement in other countries. Myths about
Feminism suggested that the movement attracted only frustrated women-
those who are unattractive, hate men, or want to destroy the family through
some form of licentiousness or sexual deviation.

As we met over the first several months, we weighed various strategies that
might allow us to reach Costa Rican university women. We selected that group
as our focus for two reasons. First, we ourselves were university women and
therefore knew that group better than other segments of the female popula-
tion; second, we believed that if we could motivate university women and raise
their consciousness, they could integrate those new values in their work with
women of other social strata.

13

CoopeSE—See Cooperativa de Servicios Multiples Santa Elena R.L.

Coordinadora Nacional por Vivienda Digna—National Coordinating Committee for
Dignified Housing. Costa Rican umbrella organization for all local housing com-
mittees, founded in 1980.

. COPAN——See Comité Patriético Nacional.

CREFAL—See Centro Regional de Educacion Funcional para América Latina.

CSUCA——See Consejo Superior Universitario Centroamericano.

CUM—See Primer Congreso Universitario de la Mujer.

Curia Metropolitana—Metropolitan Curia. The archbishop’s house/ office.

Defensora de los Derechos Humanos de las Internas del Sistema Penitenciario
Nacional—Defender of the Human Rights of Women Prisoners in the National
Prison System. Former office of the ministry of justice whose task has been taken
over by the Defensoria de los Habitantes in their section of the Defender of Women.

Defensoria de la Mujer—Office of the Women’s Defender, later Defensoria de los
Derechos Humanos de la Mujer, originally in the Ministerio de Iusticia y Gracia,
now part of the autonomous Defensoria de los Habitantes. GO, an office for the
defense of women’s rights, focus national, mission urban and rural. First created by
decree as a temporary institution by President Arias in 1989.

Defensoria de los Habitantes—Office of the Defender of the Inhabitants. See Defen-
soria de la Mujer.

Delegacion de la Mujer, Ministerio de Gobernacién y Policia—Women’s Delegation,
Ministry of the Interior and Public Safety. Government office to accept women’s
complaints and accusations about domestic violence.

Deportistas, Las—The Athletes. One of several groups of lesbians in San Jose, affiliated
informally with Las Entendidas.

Dia Internacional de la No Violencia Contra la Mujer—International Day for the
Prevention of Violence Against Women. Celebrated in Costa Rica since 1988.

Doble (Triple) Iornada, La—The Double (Triple) (Work) Day.

doctrina——Mission.

doctrinero—Missionary.

Ecole des Hautes Etudes en Sciences Sociales—School of Advanced Studies in the
Social Sciences in Paris, France.

Editorial Universitaria Centroamericana (EDUCA)—Central American University
Press.

EDUCA—See Editorial Universitaria Centroamericana.

Enclosetadas, Las—The Hidden Ones. One of several groups of lesbians in San Jose,
informally associated with Las Entendidas.

Encuentro Centroamericano Feminista——Meeting of Central American Feminists.
Celebrated March 1992 in Nicaragua.

Entendidas, Las—Those in the Know. Informal Costa Rican organization; nonprofit;
founded in 1986; focus San Iosé; mission: mutual support among lesbians.

Entendidas, Las—Quarterly bulletin of lesbian group in San Iosé.

Escuela de Ciencias de la Comunicacion Colectiva——School of Mass Communica-
tions. School within the Universidad de Costa Rica (UCR).

346 Glossary

Escuela de Pedagogia—School of Education, UCR. See Escuela Normal de Heredia.

Escuela de Planificacion y Promocion Social—School of Planning and Social De-
velopment. Part of the Universidad Nacional (UNA).

Escuela de Trabajo Social—School of Social Work. School within the Universidad de
Costa Rica (UCR).

Escuela Laboratorio—Laboratory school. Founded by Emma Gamboa.

Escuela Normal de Heredia—Heredia Normal School. Teachers’ College, later Depar-
tamento, now Escuela de Pedagogia, at the UCR. '

escuelas mixtas—Coeducational (primary) schools.

Estilo Monteverde—Monteverde style.

Estrategias de Informacién—Information Strategies. Special methodology for design-
ing information strategies.

Facultad de Ciencias Sociales—School of Social Sciences. Universidad Nacional
(UNA).

Facultad de Derecho—Law School, Universidad de Costa Rica.

Facultad de Filosofia y Letras—School of Philosophy and Arts, Universidad Nacional
(UNA).

Facultad Latinoamericana de Ciencias Sociales (FLACSO)—Latin American School
(faculty in European usage) of Social Sciences. International, intergovernmental,
regional, autonomous organization, constituted in 1957; women’s program con-
stituted in 1989. Publisher of diverse social-science studies.

filibusteros—Freebooters, filibusters. Fighting with William Walker in Central Amer-
ica.

FLACSO—See Facultad Latinoamericana de Ciencias Sociales.

fonda-hoteles—Inns.

Fondo de las Naciones Unidas para Actividades de Poblacion—United Nations Pop-
ulation Fund.

Frente Popular-—Popular Front. Costa Rican leftist party, 197os.

FUNCRESER—See Fundacion Ser y Crecer.

Fundacion Accion Ya—Action Now Foundation. Costa Rican NGO, nonprofit; helps
low-income women; works with micro-enterprises and people with disabilities
largely in San Jose.

Fundacion Arias para la Paz y el Progreso Humano—Arias Foundation for Peace and
Human Progress. Founded by Oscar Arias in 1988 with Nobel Peace Prize money;
NGO; focus on Central America, urban/ rural.

Fundacion de Solidaridad (FUNDESO)—Solidarity Foundation. NGO, provides sup-
port for women who have had surgery for breast cancer. ‘

Fundacion PANIAMOR—Foundation for Bread and Love. Nongovernmental, non-
profit, without any political affiliation. Founded in 1987, funded locally (donations)
and internationally (UNICEF, foreign embassies), and through selling its training
program services. Its mission is the protection of children’s rights.

Fundacion para el Desarrollo de la Mujer Cooperativista (FUNDACOOP)—Foun-
dation for the Development of Women Cooperativists. Support organism of Con-
ferencia de Cooperativas del Caribe y Centroamérica.

Glossary

347

Fundacion Promocién, Capacitacién y Accion Alternativa (PROCAL)—Foundation
for Advancement, Training, and Alternative Action. Nongovernmental organiza-
tion, financed by donations, working in support of adolescent mothers.

Fundacién Ser y Crecer (FUNCRESER)—Foundation for Life and Growth. Costa
Rican NGO, nonprofit; founded in 1990; focus metropolitan area; mission: treat-
ment of victims of incest.

FUNDACOOP—See Fundacion para el Desarrollo de la Mujer Cooperativista.

FUNDESO—See Fundacion de Solidaridad.

Género y Envejecimiento—Gender and Aging. A social service program.

gynophobia—.Cross-cultural male fear and hatred of women.

handicappism—Prejudice against individuals with disabilities, judging them as
“handicapped” or “disabled,” instead of as normal people who happen to have a
disability or a handicap.

heterofeminist—A feminist who is heterosexual.

homophobia—Fear of feelings of love for the same sex (from homo, Greek, meaning
the same); for example, aversion between lesbian and heterosexual women or gay
and heterosexual men.

Hospital de Nifios Dr. Carlos Saenz Herrera—Children’s Hospital. One of the Costa
Rican Social Security Services hospitals.

ICAP—See Instituto Centroamericano de Administracién Publica.

IDA—See Instituto de Desarrollo Agrario.

IEM——See Instituto de Estudios de la Mujer.

IESTRA—See Instituto de Estudios del Trabajo.

igualdad real——True equality.

IICA——See Instituto Interamericano de Cooperacién para la Agricultura.

IICE—See Instituto de Investigaciones en Ciencias Economicas.

IIP—See Instituto de Investigaciones Psicologicas.

ILANUD—See Instituto Latinoamericano de Naciones Unidas para la Prevencion del
Delito y Tratamiento del Delincuente.

ILIFEM—See Instituto Latinoamericano de Investigacion Feminista.

ILPES—See Instituto Latinoamericano de Planificacién Economica y Social.

imagineria—Colonial statuary, sacred images that serve as instruments of conversion
and for maintaining the faith.

INA—See Instituto Nacional de Aprendizaje.

INCIENSA——See Instituto de Ciencias en Nutricion y Salud.

INCOFER—See Instituto Costarricense de Ferrocarriles.

INFOCOOP—See Instituto Nacional de Fomento Cooperativo.

INIM—See Instituto Nicaraguense de Investigacion sobre la Mujer.

Instituto Centroamericano de Administracién Publica (ICAP)—Central American
Institute of Public Administration.

Instituto Costarricense de Ferrocarriles (INCOFER)——Costa Rican Railway Institute.

Instituto de Ciencias en Nutricion y Salud (INCIENSA)—Institute for Nutrition and
Health Sciences, Universidad de Costa Rica (UCR). '

Instituto de Desarrollo Agrario (IDA) —Agricultural Development Institute. Has ex-
isted under different names since 1960, a section with focus on women since 1970.

348 Glossary

As an autonomous institution—that is, a public corporation charged with a limited
task—it is free from control of the central government but government supported.
Focus on rural areas, the farm family.

Instituto de Estudios de la Mujer (IEM)—Institute for Women’s Studies. Since 1992—
1993, a permanent part of the Universidad Nacional (UNA), within Facultad de
Filosofia y Letras (Humanities); see Centro Interdisciplinario de Estudios de la
Mujer.

Instituto de Estudios del Trabajo (IESTRA)—-Institute of Labor Studies. Part of the
Universidad Nacional (UNA).

Instituto de Investigaciones en Ciencias Economicas (IICE)—Institute of Economic
Research. Institute at the Universidad de Costa Rica (UCR).

Instituto de Investigaciones Psicologicas (IIP)—Institute of Psychological Research,
Universidad de Costa Rica (UCR).

Instituto de Investigaciones Sociales—Institute of Social Research. Institute at the
Universidad de Costa Rica (UCR).

Instituto del Nifio, Centro de Investigacion y Docencia en Educacion (CIDE)—
Children’s Institute, Center for Research and Training in Education. Part of the
Universidad Nacional (UNA). A

Instituto Indigenista Interamericano—Inter-American Institute of Indigenous Peo-
ple. Peruvian institution.

Instituto Interamericano de Cooperacion para la Agricultura (IICA)—Inter—
American Institute for Cooperation in Agriculture. International organization, part
of the system of the Organization of American States (OAS); founded in 1942,
women’s program in 1989; focus is rural; mission is to help Women agriculturists
with production of food crops and with providing equal opportunities for women
in income generation and loans.

Instituto Interamericano de Derechos Humanos—Inter-American Institute of Hu-
man Rights. Located in San Jose, affiliated with the Inter-American Court of Hu-
man Rights, financed by donations. .

Instituto Latinoamericano de Investigacion Feminista (ILIFEM)—Latin American
Institute for Feminist Research. Nongovernmental, nonprofit research institution,
founded in 1992; seat in Costa Rica, focus on gender in Latin America.

Instituto Latinoamericano de Naciones Unidas para la Prevencion del Delito y
Tratamiento del Delincuente (ILANUD)—United Nations Latin American In-
stitute for the Prevention of Crime and Treatment of Offenders. GO, part of the
United Nations.

Instituto Latinoamericano de Planificacion Economica y Social (ILPES)—Latin
American Institute for Economic and Social Planning. Chilean institution.

Instituto Monteverde—Monteverde Institute. A Costa Rican institution for education
in conservation and environmental protection in Monteverde.

Instituto Nacional de Aprendizaje (INA)—-National Institute for Occupational Train-
ing. A Costa Rican autonomous institution—that is, a public corporation charged
with a limited task, free from control of the central government, but government
supported.

Instituto Nacional de Fomento Cooperativo (INFOCOOP)—National Institute for

Glossary

349

the Development of Cooperatives. Organism of the state, to advance, support, and
develop financing and control of coops, autonomous institution similar to IDA,
INA, and so on. .

Instituto Nacional de Vivienda y Urbanizacion (INVU)—National Housing and Ur—
banization Institute. A Costa Rican autonomous institution-—that is, a public cor-
poration charged with a limited task, free from control of the central government,
but government supported.

Instituto Nicaragiiense de Investigacién sobre la Mujer (INIM)—Nicaraguan In-
stitute of Research on Women. A Nicaraguan institution.

Instituto Tecnolégico de Costa Rica—Costa Rican Institute of Technology. One of
four universities in the Costa Rican state education system, located in Cartago.

Intelectuales, Las—The Intellectuals. One of several groups of lesbians in San Jose,
informally affiliated with Las Entendidas.

investigaci6n-accién—Action-oriented research.

INVU—See Instituto Nacional de Vivienda y Urbanizacion.

Junta de Administracion Portuaria y de Desarrollo Economico de la Vertiente
Atlantica (IAPDEVA)—Board of Port Administration and Economic Development
of the Atlantic Coast. A Costa Rican institution.

LA—See Libro(s) de Actas.

Ladinos—Spanish-indigenous mixed population.

lecher1’a—Cheese plant. In Monteverde, owned by Productores de Monteverde.

lesbophobia—Anti-lesbian attitudes and feelings.

Ley de Promocion de la Igualdad Social de la Mujer—Law for the Promotion of
Women’s Social Equality. Law, originally introduced as Bill for Women’s True
Equality into the Costa Rican Legislative Assembly in 1988. Passed, somewhat
changed, under the above name in 1990.

Liberacion Nacional——See Partido Liberacién Nacional.

Libro(s) de Actas (LA)—Book(s) of Records. Business records of CASEM, women’s
crafts cooperative, Santa Elena-Monteverde region.

licenciatura—Academic degree more than B.A. or B.S., less than M.A. or M.S.

Liceo de Nif1as—First Girls’ High School in Costa Rica.

Liga Feminista—Ear1y feminist organization to help women, particularly in obtaining
the vote. Founded by Angela Acufia in 1923.

Liga Conservacionista, La—See Asociacion Conservacionista Monteverde.

Liga Internacional de Mujeres Ibéricas e Hispanoamericanas—Iberian and Hispano—
American Women’s International League.

machismo—Male domination of women.

machista—Male dominant (adj.), or a domineering male (n.).

Maestria Conjunta en Estudios de la Mujer (UCR/UNA)—Joint Master’s Program in
Women’s Studies.

maquila—Relating to assembly industries.

maquiladora operations—Assembly line operations or plant.

MCID—See Ministerio de Cultura, Iuventud y Deportes.

MEP—See Ministerio de Educacion Publica.

350 Glossary

MIDEPLAN——See Ministerio de Planificacion Nacional y Politica Economica.

Ministerio de Ciencia y Tecnologia—Ministry of Science and Technology. Costa Rican
government ministry.

Ministerio de Cultura, Iuventud y Deportes (MCID)—Ministry of Culture, Youth
and Sports. Costa Rican government ministry.

Ministerio de Educacion Publica (MEP)—Ministry of Education. Costa Rican gov-
ernment ministry.

Ministerio de Gobernacién y Policia—Ministry of the Interior and Public Safety.
Costa Rican government ministry.

Ministerio de Planificacion Nacional y Politica Economica (MIDEPLAN)—Ministry
of National Planning and Economics. Costa Rican government ministry.

MLM—See Movimiento para la Liberacion de la Mujer.

Monteverde 2o2o——See Plan de Desarrollo Integral Monteverde 2020.

Movimiento para la Liberacion de la Mujer (MLM)—Women’s Liberation Move-
ment. Forerunner of CEFEMINA.

Movimiento Revolucionario del Pueblo—People’s Revolutionary Movement. Leftist
Costa Rican party of the 1970s. -

MUDAR/DAWN——See Red de Mujeres por un Desarrollo Alternativo.

Mujer, Género y Derecho, Universidad de Costa Rica—Women, Gender, and Law,
University of Costa Rica. Course at the university.

Mujer— Women. Journal published by CEFEMINA.

Mujeres—Women’s trade union, one of CEFEMINA’s programs.

Mujer/Fempress—Feminist monthly magazine, published in Santiago, Chile.

Mujer No Estas Sola—Woman, You Are Not Alone. One of CEFEMINA’s programs to
serve battered women, against domestic violence.

Mujer No Estds Sola—— Woman, You Are Not Alone. Pamphlet published for women
who suffer from violence.

Mujer y Administracion de ]usticia——Women and the Administration of Justice. One
of CEFEMINA’s programs.

Mujer y cultura— Women and Culture. Book by Carmen Naranjo.

Mujer y Familia—See Centro Nacional para el Desarrollo de la Mujer y la Familia.

Museo de Arte Costarricense——Museum of Costa Rican Art. Public institution, part of
Ministry of Culture.

Museo Nacional de Costa Rica—National Museum of Costa Rica. Public institution,
part of Ministry of Culture.

nos estamos dando el gusto—We do it for fun, we enjoy it, we allow ourselves the
pleasure.

OEA—See Organizacion de Estados Americanos.

Oficina Nacional de la Mujer—National Women’s Office. Original office for women’s
affairs in the Ministry of Culture, Youth and Sports. See Centro Nacional para el
Desarrollo de la Mujer y la Familia (CMF).

OIT—See Organizacion Internacional de1Trabajo.

OMS—See Organizacién Mundial de la Salud.

OPS—See Organizacién Panamericana de Salud.

Glossary 351

Organizacion Catélica de Participacion en la Financiacién de Programas de Desa-
rroHo—Catholic Organization for Participation in the Financing of Development
Programs. Dutch, nongovernmental, internationally connected agency.

Organizacion de Estados Americanos (OEA)——Organization of American States
(OAS).

Organizacién Internacional del Trabajo (OIT)—International Labor Organization
(ILO).

Organizacion Mundial de la Salud (OMS)—Wor1d Health Organization (WHO).

Organizacion Panamericana de Salud (OPS)—Pan-American Health Organization.

Organizacion Socialista de los Trabajadores (OST)—Socialist Workers’ Organiza-
tion. Leftist Costa Rican political party in the 19703.

OST—See Organizacion Socialista de los Trabajadores.

Pacto Social Interino del Estado de Costa Rica—Interim Pact of the State of Costa
Rica (1821).

Padres de Hoy— Toda)/’s Parents. Social service magazine supplementing prenatal
courses, supported by advertisers.

PAN I—See Patronato Nacional de la Infancia.

Partido Liberacion Nacional (PLN)—National Liberation Party. A political party of
social democratic ideology, corresponding somewhat to the Democratic Party in
the United States. One of the two most powerful Costa Rican parties at the national
level, and the one that most often is in power.

Partido Socialista—Socialist Party. Leftist Costa Rican political party in the 1970s.

patria p0testad—Right of parental authority over minor children.

Patronato Nacional de la Infancia (PANI)—-National Agency for Child Protection. An
autonomous institution—that is, a public corporation charged with a limited task,
free from control of the central government, but government supported.

picarona zamba—Despicable, roguish, mischievous black—Indian woman.

PIM—See Programa de Informacion de la Mujer.

Plan de Desarrollo Integral Monteverde 2020 (popularly, Monteverde 2o2o)—Plan
for Integrated Development of the Monteverde Region by the Year 2020. Commu-
nity organization founded in 1989 to support sustainable development by coordi-
nating the activities of diverse community organizations in the Santa Elena-
Monteverde region.

Plasticas, Las—The Plastic Ones. One of several groups of lesbians in San Jose, infor-
mally associated with Las Entendidas.

PLN—See Partido Liberacion Nacional.

prestaciones——Severance pay.

Previda—Multidisciplinary, adult education organization addressing parenting skills.

PRIEG—See Programa Interdisciplinario de Estudios de Género.

Primera Consulta Nacional para Elaborar Propuestas de Politicas P1’1blicas en Rela-
cion a la Violencia Contra la Mujer—First National Conference for the Elabora-
tion of Public Policy Proposals on Violence Against Women.

Primer Congreso Universitario de la Mujer (CUM)—First University Congress on
Women. Celebrated 1984.

352 Glossary

Primer Encuentro Centroamericano y del Caribe Sobre Violencia Contra la Mujer
—First Central American and Caribbean Meeting on Violence Against Women.
Celebrated 1991.

PROCAL—See Fundacion Promocion, Capacitacion y Accion Alternativa.

Productores de Monteverde—Monteverde producers. See lecheria.

Programa de Informacion de la Mujer (PIM)—Women’s Information Program. At
IEM/ UNA, consists of (1) a library Centro de Documentacién Especializado en el
Tema de Muj er y Desarrollo, and (2) a databank Red Nacional de Informacion sobre
Mujer y Desarrollo.

Programa Interdisciplinario de Estudios de Género (PRIEG)—Interdisciplinary
Gender Studies Program begun informally in 1987 at the Universidad de Costa Rica.

Programa Mujer, Género y Iusticia, Instituto Latinoamericano de Naciones Unidas
para la Prevencion del Delito y Tratamiento del Delincuente (ILANUD)—
Women, Gender and Justice Program, United Nations Latin American Institute for
the Prevention of Crime and Treatment of Offenders. One of the programs of
ILANUD.

Programa Mujer y Derechos Humanos, Instituto Interamericano de Derechos
Humanos—Women and Human Rights Program, Inter-American Institute of Hu-
man Rights. Does research, provides information for the legislature.

Proyecto de Ley de Igualdad Esencial de la Mujer——Bill for the Basic Equality of
Women. 1

Proyecto de Ley sobre la Igualdad Real de la Mujer—Bill for Women’s True Equality.
Bill introduced into the Costa Rican legislature in 1988. Passed as Ley de Promocion
de la Igualdad Social de la Mujer in 1990.

Proyecto de Ley sobre la Igualdad de Derechos entre Hombres y Mujeres—Bill for
the Equality of Rights Among Men and Women.

Proyecto EduMujer—Women’s Education Project. Jointly sponsored by the Costa
Rican Ministerio de Educacién Publica and the Organizacién Internacional de
Trabajo (OIT).

quedar bien—To get along, make a good impression, appear amiable.

Quinto Congreso Internacional Interdisciplinario de la Mujer——Fifth International
Interdisciplinary Congress on Women. Celebrated in San José at UCR, spring 1993.

Radio Nacional—National Radio, a radio network. A

Red Centroamericana de Informacion sobre Género y DesarroHo—Central Ameri-
can Gender-in-Development Information Network. Projected for the future.

Red de Mujeres por un Desarrollo Alternativo (MUDAR)—Development Alter-
natives with Women for a New Era (DAWN). A Peruvian-based women’s organi-
zation.

Red Latinoamericana de Mujeres—Latin American Women’s Network.

Red Nacional de Informacion sobre Mujer y Desarrollo—National Information Net-
work on Women and Development. Future computer network consisting of three
databases on bibliographic, institutional, and statistical information. In 1992, this
was part of the Programa de Informacion de la Mujer (PIM) at UNA Red de
Informacién sobre Género en el Desarrollo.

Glossary 353

Registro Nacional de Minusvalidos——National Register of the Handicapped. Part of
the Centro Nacional de Rehabilitacion.

Republica Federal de Centro América—Federal Republic of Central America. One of
the attempts, 1824-1838, to achieve Central-American political unity.

Reserva del Bosque Nuboso Monteverde—MonteVerde Cloud Forest Reserve.

Revista de Ciencias Sociales—]ournal of Social Sciences. Journal of the Instituto de
Investigaciones Sociales, UCR.

;Salado!-—Too bad! Tough luck! Comes from “something salty, spicy.”

Salud Vivencial—Healthful Living. CEFEMINA program.

Segundo Congreso Universitario de la Mujer (CUM)—Second University Congress
on Women. Celebrated in 1988.

Segundo Encuentro de Lesbianas Feministas de América Latina y el Caribe—Second
Encounter of Feminist Lesbians of Latin America and the Caribbean. Celebrated in
San lose’ in 1990.

sin hacer olas—Without making waves.

Sistema de Informacion Indigenista de América Latina—Information System on
Latin American Indigenous Peoples. See Indigenista Interamericano.

Sociedad Federal de Trabajadores—Federated Worker’s Union. First labor union,
founded in 1912.

Sorbonne Nouvelle—NeW Sorbonne. Paris, France.

tercerillas—Thirds. Vouchers or notes, worth one—third of nominal value of teachers’
salary, paid under Tinoco’s dictatorship, 1917.

Tractoras, Las—The Braves. One of several groups of lesbians in San Iosé, informally
associated with Las Entendidas.

Tribunal Supremo de Elecciones (TSE)——Supreme Electoral Tribunal. Costa Rican
governmental body to supervise and assure fair elections.

TSE—See Tribunal Supremo de Elecciones.

tugurio(s)—Squatter settlement(s).

tutela—Guardianship. During colonial times, putting women under guardianship de-
prived them of their decision-making power and allowed men to control them.

UACA—See Universidad Autonoma de Centro América.

UCR—See Universidad de Costa Rica.

UNA—See Universidad Nacional.

UNAM—See Universidad Nacional Autonoma de México.

UNA-Mujer— Women at UNA. Quarterly bulletin of IEM/ UNA.

UNA—Palabra—Words at UNA. Annual literary competition at the Universidad Nacio-
nal (UNA).

UNED—See Universidad Estatal a Distancia.

UNICEF—United Nations Children’s Emergency Fund.

UNIFEM—United Nations Development Fund for Women.

Union de Mujeres Americanas—-Union of American Women.

Union Panamericana—Pan-American Union.

Universidad Autonoma de Centro América (UACA)—Autonomous University of

354 Glossary

  Central America. One of fifteen or more private universities in Costa Rica, located
in San Iosé.

Universidad de Costa Rica (UCR)—University of Costa Rica. One of the four univer-
sities of the Costa Rican state system, corresponds to the U.S. “University of (name
of state)?’ Largest university in Costa Rica, located in San Jose.

Universidad de la Paz—University of Peace. Private university, located near Ciudad
Colon, southwest of San Jose.

Universidad de Santo Toma’1s—Santo Tomas University. First university in Costa Rica,
1843-88.

Universidade Catélica do Minas Gerais—Catholic University of Minas Gerais, Brazil.

Universidade Federal do Rio Grande do Norte—Federal University of Rio Grande do
Norte, Brazil.

Universidad Estatal a Distancia (UNED)—State University for Extension Studies.
One of the four universities of the Costa Rican state system, located in San Jose.
Universidad Nacional (UNA)—One of the four universities of the Costa Rican state
system. UNA corresponds to the U.S. “State University of (name of state),” located

in Heredia.

Universidad Nacional Auténoma de México (UNAM)—Autonomous National Uni-
versity of Mexico.

Universidad Xaveriana—Xaveriana University.

Valle Central—Cen}ral Valley. Highland area between Caribbean and Pacific lowlands,
containing more than half of Costa Rican population, and most Costa Rican cities.

Ventana—Window. A former informal women’s consciousness-raising organization.

Ventana— Window. Iournal formerly published intermittently by Ventana.

Vice Rectoria de Docencia—-Vice Rectory of Academic Affairs.

Vice Rectoria de Investigaci(’)n—Vice Rectory of Research. Both this and the Vice
Rectoria de Docencia are part of the UCR administration.

Walker, William—U.S. adventurer who invaded Costa Rica, 1856-1857.

Walker’s Filibusters—Freebooters.

Woman of the Americas—Title bestowed by the Union of American Women.

Glossary 355

During our early meetings we realized that we needed to clarify our ideas
about the origin and nature of the oppression of women. We then naturally
evolved into a support and consciousness—raising group, in which we were able
to deepen our understanding of Feminism on the basis of our own experi-
ences, not just those of women in other countries or other segments of our
own country. And, because we wanted to understand intellectually what we
were learning emotionally in our support sessions, we decided to study femi-
nist theory as a group. We also decided that, as soon as possible, we would
initiate a project that would allow us to reach other women.

Our discussions of the nature of this project were heated. We knew that
organizing women at the grassroots level of society was necessary and that in a
Third World country most women are poor and face problems of mere sur-
vival. However, we doubted that our group, which then consisted of about ten
women, could have much impact in solving those problems. We decided that a
better strategy would be to reach women who later would work with such
grassroots organizations. By working with this intermediate group of women
we could present a clearer idea about problems confronting women in particu-
lar and the community as a whole. We therefore opted for creating a feminist
magazine, reasoning that a magazine would open a necessary, and so far
nonexistent, forum in which women could express their concerns and publish
their research and artistic or literary creations. At the same time, this magazine
would furnish space for readings and discussions about women’s problems.
We did not want to propose solutions because we did not believe we had all the
answers. We could, however, offer the ideal medium for those looking for
solutions to women’s problems: a publication with a theoretical gender per-
spective from which to interpret the situation of women.

We determined that the content of the magazine would be optimistic and
that problem statements would go hand in hand with a commitment to arrive
at nonpatriarchal solutions. To evoke this optimism, we called our magazine
Ventana (Window). A window suggests permanent communication between
outside and inside, a place from which one can look out over a strange world
and call out to other women.

As feminists, we wanted to destroy myths and stereotypes and invite our
readers to walk with us down an untraveled path in their quest for feminine
identity. We invited other women to participate and soon received poetry,
articles, proposals, commentaries, drawings, testimonials, and, most impor-
tant, their support. Meeting regularly, we learned our new jobs as editors and
felt enriched by all we as women wanted to say.

14 Rosalia Camacho, Alda Facio Montejo, and Ligia Martin


Index

Academia de Geografia e Historia de Costa
Rica, 59 ‘

Academia Costarricense de la Lengua, 33

Acosta Garcia, Iulio, 8, 9, 73

action—oriented feminism, xi, 3, 24, 27, 279, 335

action—oriented research. See im/estigacio’n—
accion

Acufia Braun, Angela, 8-9, 35, 38, 65-66, 70-
81, 85-87, 247, 274-75; and Mujer de las
Americas, 9, 80-81, 87, 274-75. See also
Benemeritazgo

Afro—Caribbean, 18, 142-45

Afro—Caribbean women, 138, 141-46; of
Limon, 18, 142; as female heads of house-
hold, 142-44; prostitution, 144; survival
strategies, 144-45

Albergue Belén. See Mujer No Estés Sola

algodonera, 46

Alianza. See Asociacién Alianza de Mujeres
Costarricenses

Alianza de Cooperativas Internacional, 193.
See also women in the cooperative move-
ment

androcentrism, 38, 69, 102, 128, 132-35, 269,
284, 287

androgynism, 15

APROMUIER. See Asociacion Programa Na-
cional de Asesoria y Capacitacion para la
Mujer

Archivo Nacional, 52, 171

Arias, Oscar. See Arias Sanchez, Oscar

Arias Sanchez, Oscar, xiii, 11, 66, 106, 114-15,
158, 193, 203

Army, Costa Rican, xiii, 66, 211

Asociacion Alianza de Mujeres Costarricenses
(AMC or Alianza), v, 3-4, 24-28

Asociacion Centro de Orientacion Integral,
162

Asociacion Conservacionista de Monteverde
(La Liga). See Comision de Artesanos Santa
Elena-Monteverde

357

Asociacion de Trabajadoras Domésticas, 27
Asociacion Programa Nacional de Asesoria
y Capacitacion para la Mujer (APRO-

MUIER), 182, 193-97. See also women in
the cooperative movement
Avispa, La, 148-51

bananas. See exports

Benemeritazgo de la Patria, vi, 37-38, 84-88;
and Acufia Braun, Angela, 35, 86-87; and
Gamboa Alvarado, Emma, 79, 85-86; and
Solorzano Alfaro, Maria Emilia, 85

Benemérito de la Patria, vi, 84-88

Biblioteca Nacional de Costa Rica, 59

Bill for Women’s True Equality. See Proyecto
de Ley sobre la Igualdad Real de la Mujer

Blanco, Grace, 255-57

Caja Costarricense de Seguro Social (CCSS),
316

Calderon Fournier, Rafael Angel, 11, 193

Calderon Guardia, Rafael Angel, 77-78

Camara de Turismo. See Comision de Arte-
sanos Santa Elena-Monteverde

Canadian Development Agency. See Comision
de Artesanos Santa E1ena—Monteverde

Canadian International Development Re-
search Center, Ottawa, 299

Canasta basica, 141

capellanias de misas, 42-43

Capitania General (de Guatemala), 40, 46

Carillo, Braulio, 56

Carrasco, Francisca (Pancha), 2, 6-7, 87, 336

Carvajal, Maria Isabel (Carmen Lyra), 72-77,
87. See also suffragism

Casa de Ensefianza de Santo Tomas, La (1814),
56, 66

Casa de la Mujer. See Universidad Nacional

Casa de la Mujer (magazine). See Universidad
Nacional

Casa de la Mujer de los Barrios del Sur, 109

Castro Madriz, Jose Maria, 56

Catedra Libre Eugenio Fonseca. See Univer-
sidad de Costa Rica

Catholic Church. See women and religion

CEFEMINA. See Centro Feminista de Infor-
macion y Accion

Central American Information Network on
Women in Health. See Consejo Superior
Universitario Centroamericano

Central Valley. See Valle Central

Centro Cientifico Tropical. See Comision de
Artesanos Santa Elena-Monteverde

Centro de Cooperacion Internacional en De-
sarrollo Agricola (CINADCO) (Israel), 196

Centro de Educacion Creativa. See Comision
de Artesanos Santa Elena-Monteverde

Centro de Estudios para la Accion Social
(CEPAS), 17

Centro de Filantropia. See Fundacion Arias

Centro de Investigacion de Tecnologia en Ali-
mentos. See Universidad de Costa Rica

Centro Feminista de Informacion y Accion
(CEFEMINA), v, 3, 19-23, 118, 139, 160-69;
and Comité Nacional por la No Violencia
Contra la Mujer, 22, 109, 165-66; and
Comité por la Igualdad de la Mujer en el
Deporte, 22; and Mujer, 21, 23, 160; and Mu-
jer, No Estas Sola (program), 22, 125, 139,
160-69; and Mujeres (trade union), 22; and
Mujer y Administracion de Iusticia pro-
gram, 22; and Salud Vivencial program, 21;
small loan fund of, 21. See also housing
movement

Centro Interdisciplinario de Estudios de la
Mujer (CIEM). See Instituto de Estudios de
la Mujer

Centro Latinoamericano de Demografia
(CELADE). See Consejo Superior Univer-
sitario Centroamericano

Centro Nacional de Educacion Cooperativa
(CENECOOP), 195, 226. See also women in
the cooperative movement

Centro Nacional para el Desarrollo de la Mu-
jer y la Familia (CMF), 4, 106, 125, 166; as
Oficina Nacional de la Mujer, 33

Centro para el Progreso Humano. See Funda-
cion Arias

Centro Regional de Educacion Funcional para
América Latina (CREFAL), 302

cesarean-section births: doctor’s attitude to-
ward, 319, 323-25; incidence of, 281; and

358 Index

Padres de Hoy, 331; predictability of, viii,
281, 316-32; and Previda, 331; and role of
husband, 327-29; and socioeconomic sta-
tus, 319, 326-27; and woman’s attitude
about pain, 319, 325-26; and woman’s per-
sonality, 319, 321-23; and woman’s physical
condition, 319, 327

CIEM. See Centro Interdisciplinario de Estu-
dios de la Mujer

CIM. See Comision Interamericana de Mu-
jeres

Clarence Thomas—Anita Hill hearings, 101, 107

Clayton-Bulwer Treaty (1850), 54

CMF. See Centro Nacional para el Desarrollo
de la Mujer y la Familia

coffee. See exports

cofradias, 42-5o

Colegio de Abogados, 12o

Colegio de Médicos, 179

Colegio de Nuestra Sefiora de Sion, 57, 68, 85.
See also Solorzano Alfaro, Maria Emilia;
schools for girls

Colegio Superior de Sefioritas, 57, 67, 75. See
also schools for girls

Comision de Artesanos Santa Elena-
Monteverde (CASEM), vii, 183, 210-33, 335;
and Asociacion Conservacionista de
Monteverde, 213, 227; and Camara de
Turismo, 213, 227; and Canadian Develop-
ment Agency, 213, 215; and caserios, 214;
and Centro Cientifico Tropical, 213;
CENECOOP, 226; as community force,
226-30; conservation movement and, 212,
220; and Cooperativa Multiple Santa Elena,
210-19; five-year plan of, 227-30; growth
of, 214, 215; and Instituto Monteverde, 213;
and IAF, 213, 214; organizational structure
of, 217-19; and Plan de Desarrollo Integral
Monteverde 2020, 213, 227; and Productores
de Monteverde (lecheria), 211-12; and
Quakers, 211; quality control of, 219-22;
and Reserva del Bosque Nuboso Monte-
verde, 212-13, 227; and tourism, 212; trouble
shooting of, 222-24; and women’s empow-
erment, 21o, 217, 224-26; and World Wild-
life Fund, 213

Comision de Honores, 84-88

Comision Interamericana de Mujeres (CIM),
9» 37

Comision Nacional de Esperanza Solidaria,
Consejo Latinoamericano de Iglesias, 5o

Comité del Nifio Agredido, Hospital de
Nifios. See Mujer No Estas Sola

Comité Latinoamericano para la Defensa de
los Derechos de la Mujer (CLADEM), 104.
See also women’s legal status; women and
violence

Comité Nacional de la Mujer Cooperativista,
193, 302. See also women in the cooperative
movement; Programa de Informacion de la
Mujer

Comité Nacional por la No Violencia Contra
la Mujer. See Centro Feminista de Informa-
cion y Accion

Comité Patriotico Nacional. See housing
movement

Comité por la Igualdad de la Mujer en el De-
porte. See Centro Feminista de Informa-
cion y Accion

Comité Regional de la Mujer Cooperativista
de Centroamérica y del Caribe, 183, 196.
See also women in the cooperative move-
ment

Consejo Latinoamericano de Iglesias, 50

Consejo Nacional de Cooperativas (CONA-
COOP), 194. See also women in the cooper-
ative movement

Consejo Nacional de Rehabilitacion, 155

Consejo Superior Universitario Centro-
americano (CSUCA), viii, 18, 33, 179, 279-
80, 290-91; 293-97, 309; and CELADE,
295; and Central American Information
Network on Women in Health, 295; and
FLACSO, 296; and ILIFEM, 296 mission of,
293-97; and Red Centroamericana de In-
formacion sobre Género y Desarrollo, 295-
96; and Universidad de la Paz, 296

Constitutions, Costa Rican, 62-66, 80, 120,
130"35

Convention on the Elimination of All Forms
of Discrimination Against Women. See
United Nations Convention on the Elimi-
nation of all Forms of Discrimination
Against Women

Cooperativa Multiple Santa Elena, R.L. See
Comision de Artesanos Santa Elena-
Monteverde

cooperative movement. See women in the co-
operative movement

Coordinadora Nacional por Vivienda Digna.
See housing movement

Cortés Castro, Leon, 10, 77-78

Costa Rican feminism, roots of, v, 2, 5-12
Cruz, Ramona, 80
CSUCA. See Consejo Superior Universitario
Centroamericano
Curia Metropolitana, 36, 39-50

Day care, 116, 123-24

Defensoria de la Mujer, Ministerio de Iusticia,
18, 106, 107, 115, 122-23. See also Defensoria
de los Derechos Humanos de la Mujer; De-
fensoria de los Habitantes

Defensoria de los Derechos Humanos de las
Internas del Sistema Penitenciario Nacio-
nal, 109

Defensoria de los Derechos Humanos de la
Mujer, 100, 109, 115, 167

Defensoria de los Habitantes, 18, 100, 106, 167,
302

Delegacion de la Mujer, Ministerio de G0ber—
nacion y Policia, 106, 167

Dia Internacional de la N0 Violencia Contra
la Mujer, 166

disability, vii, 139, 153-59; and asexuality, 155;
compounded by gender, 156; women with,
153. See also discrimination

discrimination, 137-79; and disability, 138, 139,
153-59; domestic violence, 138, 139-40, 160-
69, 170-79; in organizations, 182; for race/
gender, 120, 138, 141-45; for sexual prefer-
ence, 138, 147-52; through sexual segrega-
tion, 271; UN definition of, 122

Distinguished Citizen of the Nation. See Bene-
mérito de la Patria; Benemeritazgo

divorce. See women and family life

doble/ triple jomada, la, 32, 96, 236. 260

doctrina, 48

doctrinero, 41-50

double day, double (triple) workday, 15, 32,
124, 193. See also doble/ triple jornada

Ecole des Hautes Etudes en Sciences Sociales,
Paris, 309

Editorial Universitaria Centroamericana
(EDUCA), 33

empowerment. See women and empower-
ment

Encuentro Centroamericano Feminista
(1992). 139, 151

Entendidas, Las, vi, 138-39, 147-52

equality. See Igualdad; political equality

Escalante, Manuela, 2, 5-7

Index 359

Escuela de Ciencias de la Comunicacion Co-
lectiva. See Universidad de Costa Rica

Escuela de Pedagogia. See Universidad de
Costa Rica

Escuela de Planificacién y Promocion Social.
See Universidad Nacional

Escuela de Trabajo Social. See Universidad de
Costa Rica

Escuela Laboratorio, 86. See also Gamboa,
Emma

Escuela Normal de Heredia. See Universidad
de Costa Rica

escuelas mixtas, 57. See also schools for girls

European Economic Community, 118

exports, Costa Rican: coffee, 53, 141-42; ba-
nanas, 54, 141-42; tourism, 141-42

Facultad Latinoamericana de Ciencias So-
ciales (FLACSO), 296

Faingezicht, Aida, 193

family code. See legal system

female head of household. See head of house-
hold, female

feminism in the arts, vii, 246-75; and litera-
ture, 247, 269-75; in popular songs, 262-68;
and women painters, 246, 248-61. See also
feminist Costa Rican women painters;
myth and stereotypes, in popular songs;
world literature, feminist reinterpretation
of

feminist Costa Rican women painters, vii,
246, 248-61. See also Blanco, Grace; femi-
nism in the arts; Hine, Ana Griselda; Mar-
tha, Ioan; Pignani-Boncinelli, Paola

Fifth International American Conference
(1923), 8. See also Sixth International Amer-
ican Conference

Fifth International Congress of Women and
Health (1987), 22

Fifth International Interdisciplinary Congress
on Women (1993). See Quinto Congreso
Internacional Interdisciplinario de la Mujer

Figueres, Iosé “Pepe,” 38, 142

Filibusters. See Walker, William

First International Conference on Women,
Law and Development in Central America,
104

FLACSO. See Facultad Latinoamericana de
Ciencias Sociales

Fondo de las Naciones Unidas para Activi-
dades de Poblacion, 18

360 Index

Frente Popular, 201. See also housing move-
ment

Friends’ School. See Comision de Artesanos
Santa Elena—Monteverde

FUNCRESER. See Fundacion Ser y Crecer

Fundacion Accion Ya, 109, 298

Fundacion Arias para la Paz y el Progreso Hu-
mano, 125, 126, 158-59; and Centro de
Filantropia, 158; and Centro para el Pro-
greso Humano, 125

Fundacion de Solidaridad, 168. See also Mujer
No Estas Sola

Fundacion PANIAMOR, 171, 179

Fundacion para el Desarrollo de la Mujer
Cooperativista (FUNDACOOP), 183, 193,
196. See also women in the cooperative
movement

Fundacion Promocion, Capacitacion y Accion
Alternativa (PROCAL) 168. See also Mujer
No Estas Sola

Fundacion Ser y Crecer (FUNCRESER), xiv,
140, 168, 178-79; and program Amor sin
Agresion, 178. See also Mujer No Estas Sola

Gamboa, Emma, 79, 81, 85-86

Garron, Victoria, 193. See also women political
leaders

gender perspective, xviii, 14-17, 26, 29-33, 36,
102, 120, 134-35, 184, 278-79, 280; and class,
26, 199, 239; and class and race, 143-44, 239;
and division of labor, 94; and equality/in-
equality, 1oo, 121, 195, 294; and Gender—in-
Development Information Network, 280,
298-303; and gender studies, 17, 287-92,
293-97. See also Instituto Latinoamericano
de Investigacion Feminista

Género y Envejecimiento. See Universidad de
Costa Rica

Gonzalez Viquez, Cleto, 64

government institutions serving women. See
Centro Nacional para el Desarrollo de la
Mujer y la Familia; Defensoria de los Habi-
tantes; Delegacion de la Mujer

grassroots. See Latin American women’s
movements, roots of

Guardia Gutiérrez, Tomas, 85

gynophobia, 150. See also homophobia,
lesbophobia

handicappism. See disability
head of household, female, 141-45, 199

heterofeminists, 147-52

heterosexuality, 134, 147-52

Hine, Ana Griselda, 254-55

homophobia, 147-51. See also gynophobia,
lesbophobia

housing movement, vii, 21, 183, 198-209

Howell, Patricia, 260

Humanities Division. See Facultad de Filo-
sofia y Letras

IEM. See Instituto de Estudios de la Mujer

Igualdad, 99-136. See also Ley de Promocion
de la Igualdad Social de la Mujer

ILANUD. See Instituto Latinoamericano de
las Naciones Unidas para la Prevencion del
Delito y Tratamiento del Delincuente

Immediate Action Plan for Equality. See Ley de
Promocion de la Igualdad Social de la Mujer

incest. See women and violence

INCOFER. See Instituto Costarricense de Fe-
rrocarriles.

individual-efficacy. See Latin American
women’s movements, roots of

Instituto Centroamericano de Administracion
Publica (ICAP), 303

Instituto Costarricense de Ferrocarriles
(INCOFER), 188. See also Peace Corps

Instituto de Desarrollo Agrario (IDA), 106.
See also women and work

Instituto de Estudios de la Mujer (IEM). See
Universidad Nacional

Instituto de Investigaciones en Ciencias Eco-
nomicas (IICE). See Universidad de Costa
Rica

Instituto de Investigaciones Psicologicas (IIP).
See Universidad de Costa Rica

Instituto de Investigaciones Sociales. See Uni-
versidad de Costa Rica

Instituto del Nifio del Centro de Investigacion
y Docencia en Educacion (CIDE). See Uni-
versidad Nacional

Instituto Indigenista Interamericano (Peru),
302; and Sistema de Informacion Indi-
genista de América Latina, 302

Instituto Interamericano de Cooperacion
para la Agricultura (IICA), 18, 275

Instituto Interamericano de Derechos Hu-
manos, 17, 243, 309; and Programa Mujer y
Derechos Humanos, 243

Instituto Latinoamericano de Investigacion
Feminista (ILIFEM), 231, 280, 296

Instituto Latinoamericano de Naciones
Unidas para la Prevencion del Delito y Tra-
tamiento del Delincuente (ILANUD), 17,
17 9» 243

Instituto Latinoamericano de Planificacion
Economica y Social (ILPES) (Chile), 196

Instituto Monteverde. See Comision de Arte-
sanos Santa Elena-Monteverde

Instituto Nacional de Aprendizaje (INA), 106,
156. See also women and work

Instituto Nacional de Fomento Cooperativo
(INFOCOOP), 196. See also women in the
cooperative movement

Instituto Nacional de Vivienda y Urbaniza-
cion (INVU), 201, 205. See also housing
movement

Instituto Nicaragiiense de Investigacion sobre
la Mujer (INIM), 301

Instituto Tecnologico, 304

Inter—American Foundation. See Comision de
Artesanos Santa Elena-Monteverde

Interdisciplinary Research in Women’s Stud-
ies, viii, 281, 310-15; and differences be-
tween disciplines, 311; and holistic
knowledge, 313-15; and overlap of disci-
plines, 312; and technical terms and con-
cepts, 312-13

International Women’s Day, 15, 114

investigacion-accion, xii, xviii, 334-35. See also
action-oriented feminism

IAPDEVA. See Junta de Administracion Por-
tuaria y de Desarrollo Economico de la Ver-
tiente Atlantica

Iaquette, Jane, xv.

Jimenez Zamora, Jesus, 56

Joint Master’s Program in Women’s Studies.
See Maestria Conjunta en Estudios de la
Mujer

Iunta de Administracion Portuaria y de De-
sarrollo Economico de la Vertiente Atlan-
tica (IAPDEVA), 188-89. See also Peace
Corps volunteers

labor code. See legal system

Ladinos, 41

Latin American women’s movements:
grassroots of, xv-Xviii, 2, 3, 20-23, 24-28,
71, 183, 202, 334; individual—efficacy roots of,
xv-xvii, 2, 5-12, 36-38, 137-79, 182, 334; po-
litical roots of, Xv-xvi, 2, 37, 334;

Index 361

Latin American women’s movements (cont)
theoretical-philosophical roots of, xv-xvi,
xviii, 2, 3, 4, 13-18, 24-28, 102, 183, 234-44,
334. See also Iaquette, Jane

lecheria. See Comision de Artesanos Santa
Elena—M0nteverde

legal equality, vi, 100, 102, 127-35; and citizen-
ship, 63, 127, 129-30; and civil rights of
women, 64-65, 103; and cultural tradition,
103-04; and inadequate legal framework,
103; and the law, 131-34; and patria potestad
(parental authority), 65; and political
equality, 130-31, 134-35; redefinition of hu-
man being, 128-29; and tutela (right of
guardianship), 65. See also political equality

legal system: citizenship, 63; constitutions, 62;
family code (1974), 103-05; labor code, 105;
penal code, 107

lesbian feminist support group creation (Las
Entendidas), vi, 147-52; and gynophobia,
150; and heterofeminists, 150, 151; and het-
erosexuality, 147, 148, 151; and homophobia,
147, 149, 150; and lesbophobia, 151

lesbophobia, 151. See also gynophobia,
homophobia

Ley de Promocion de la Igualdad Social de la
Mujer, vi, 99-135, 167; and Immediate Ac-
tion Plan for Equality, 115; and Proyecto de
Ley de Igualdad Esencial de la Mujer, 123;
and Proyecto de Ley sobre la Igualdad de
Derechos entre Hombres y Mujeres, 123;
and Proyecto de Ley sobre la Igualdad Real
de la Mujer, 11, 99-135, 145

Liceo de Nifias, 56, 66. See also schools for girls

Liga Feminista, 8, 9, 35, 71, 74-76
Liga Internacional de Mujeres Ibéricas e His-
panoamericanas, 8

machismo, 15, 37-38, 172, 193, 195, 260, 263; cul-
ture of, 269-71; feminine servitude and, 29

Maestria Conjunta en Estudios de la Mujer.
See Universidad de Costa Rica; Universidad
Nacional

maquila/maquiladora, 192, 239, 241. See also
women in the cooperative movement

Martha, Ioan, 258-59

MCID. See Ministerio de Cultura, Iuventud y
Deportes

Meeting of Central American Feminists. See
Encuentro Centroamericano Feminista

Metropolitan Curia. See Curia Metropolitana

362 Index

Ministerio de Cultura, Iuventud y Deportes
(MCID), 33, 106, 118, 166. See also Centro
Nacional para el Desarrollo de la Mujer y la
Familia

Ministerio de Educacion Publica (MEP), 51

Ministerio de Gobernacion y Policia, 167

Ministerio de Planificacion y Politica Eco-
nomica (MIDEPLAN), 196, 302. See also
Programa de Informacion de la Mujer

MLM. See Movimiento para la Liberacion de
la Mujer

Mora Fernandez, Juan, 56

Mora Porras, Juan Rafael, 6-7

mother—daughter relationship, 91, 94, 173-74

Movimiento para la Liberacion de la Mujer
(MLM), 19-23, 201. See also housing move-
ment; Centro Feminista de Informacion y
Accion

Movimiento Revolucionario del Pueblo, 201.
See also housing movement

Mujer, Género y la Ley (course). See Univer-
sidad de Costa Rica

Mujer (magazine). See Centro Feminista de
Informacion y Accion

Mujer de las Américas. See Acufia Braun, An-
gela

Mujeres (trade union). See Centro Feminista
de Informacion y Accion

Mujer/Fempress (monthly), 17

Mujer N0 Estas Sola, vii, 125, 139, 160-69, 181;
as alternative to shelters 163-69; and Com-
ité del Nifio Agredido, 166, 167, 171; and Dia
Internacional de la No Violencia Contra la

Mujer, 166; and Maria Chiquita, 168; “Mu-
jer No Estas Sola” pamphlet, 166; Mujer N0
Estas Sola program, 166-69. See also Fun-
dacion de Solidaridad; violence against
women

multicultural society, xiii; and bilingual edu-
cation, 213, 227; and cultural diversity, 297;
and religion, 211-33; and Santa Elena-
Monteverde, 210, 213

Museo de Arte Costarricense, 33

Museo Nacional de Costa Rica, 59

myths and stereotypes: in literature, 274; in
popular songs, vii, 262-68. See also femi-
nism in the arts

Naranjo, Carmen, vii, Xvi, 4-33
National Meeting on Women, Health, and
Sports, 22

Nature Conservancy. See Comision de Ar-
tesanos Santa Elena—Monteverde

obstacles to women’s rights. See legal equality

Odio, Elisabeth, 193

Office of the Defender of the Inhabitants. See
Defensoria de los Habitantes

Office of the Ombudsman. See Defensoria de
los Habitantes 3

Office of the Women’s Defender or of the De-
fender of Women’s Human Rights (1989).
See Defensoria de la Mujer

Oficina Nacional de la Mujer. See Centro Na-
cional para el Desarrollo de la Mujer y la
Familia

oligarchy, male, 63-64. See also machismo

Organizacion Catolica de Participacion en la
Financiacion de Programas de Desarrollo, 26

Organizacion de Estados Americanos (OEA),
9» 13: 35> 81: 37» 247: 274

Organizacion Internacional de Trabajo (OIT),
51

Organizacion Mundial de la Salud (OMS),
155: 316

Organizacion Panamericana de Salud (OPS),
295, 300, 301

Organizacion Socialista de los Trabajadores
(OST), 201, 202. See also housing move-
ment

Organization of American States (OAS). See
Organizacion de Estados Americanos

Pacto Social Interino del Estado de Costa Rica
(1821), 53

Padres de Hoy (annual), 331. See also cesarean-
section births

PANI. See Patronato Nacional de la Infancia

Partido Liberacion Nacional (PLN), 203

Partido Socialista, 201. See also housing move-
ment

patria potestad. See legal system

patriarchy, 2, 24, 29-33, 36-38, 39, 47, 61-81,
103-35, 138, 147, 151-52, 170-72, 176-77, 236,
241, 243, 266, 326; triple, 36, 49; and
women’s subordination, 29-33, 314

Patronato Nacional de la Infancia (PANI),
104-08, 166

Peace Corps volunteers, 182, 185-90

Penal Code. See legal system

Penon Gongora de Arias, Dofia Margarita,
114» 125» 193» 335

Picado, Teodoro, 77-79

Pignani-Boncinelli, Paola, 251-53

PIM. See Programa de Informacion de la
Mujer

Plan de Desarrollo Integral Monteverde 2020.
See Comision de Artesanos Santa Elena-
Monteverde

political equality: and citizenship, 129-30; and
human being, 127-28; of men and women,
130-31; redefinition of, 127-35

political roots. See Latin American w0men’s
movements

poverty, feminization of, xiv, 25, 155

Previda. See cesarean-section births

Primera Consulta Nacional Para Elaborar
Propuestas de Politicas Publicas en Rela-
cion a la Violencia Contra la Mujer (1991),
168. See also Mujer N0 Estas Sola

Primer Congreso Universitario de la Mujer
(CUM), 161

Primer Encuentro Centroamericano y del Car-
ibe Sobre Violencia Contra la Mujer, 22, 168

productores de Monteverde. See Comision de
Artesanos Santa Elena—Monteverde

Programa de Informacion de la Mujer (PIM),
viii, 280, 290, 298-303

Programa Interdisciplinario de Estudios de
Género (PRIEG). See Universidad de Costa
Rica

Programa Mujer, Género y Justicia. See Insti-
tuto Latinoamericano de Naciones Unidas
para la Prevencion del Delito y Tratamiento
del Delincuente

Programa Mujer y Derechos Humanos. See
Instituto Interamericano de Derechos Hu-
manos

Proyecto de Ley de Igualdad Esencial de la
Mujer. See Ley de Promocion de la Igualdad
Social de la Mujer

Proyecto de Ley sobre la Igualdad de Derechos
entre Hombres y Mujeres. See Ley de Pro-
mocion de la Igualdad Social de la Mujer

Proyecto de Ley sobre la Igualdad Real de la
Mujer. See Ley de Promocion de la Igualdad
Social de la Mujer

Proyecto EduMujer, 50

Quakers, 211-33

Quinto Congreso Internacional Inter-
disciplinario de Estudios de la Mujer, xv,
279, 291-92

Index 363

Radio Nacional (radio network). See Pro-
grama de Informacion de la Mujer

Radio Sensacion (radio network), 246. See
also popular songs, myths and stereotypes
in

Red Centroamericana de Informacion sobre
Mujer y Desarrollo. See Consejo Superior
Universitario Centroamericano

Red Latinoamericana de Mujeres, 51

Red Nacional de Informacion sobre Mujer y
Desarrollo. See Programa de Informacion
de la Mujer

Registro Nacional de Minusvalidos, 155

Rep1’1blica Federal de Centro América (1824-
38), 53, 62

Reserva del Bosque Nuboso Monteverde. See
Comision de Artesanos Santa Elena-
Monteverde

Revista de Ciencias Sociales. See Universidad
de Costa Rica, publications of

right to vote, w0men’s. See suffragism

Rivas, battle of (1856), 6

Rodriguez, Iosé Ioaquin, 71

Salud Vivencial. See Centro Feminista de In-
formacion y Accion

schools for girls, nineteenth century: Colegio
de Nuestra Sefiora de Sion, 57, 68, 85; Cole—
gio Superior de Sefioritas, 57, 67-68; es-
cuelas mixtas, 57; Liceo de Nifias, 56

Segundo Congreso Universitario de la Mujer
(CUM) (1988), 165

Segundo Encuentro de Lesbianas Feministas
de América Latina y del Caribe (1990), 139,
148“49

sexuality. See women and sexuality

shelters. See Mujer N0 Estas Sola

Sin hacer olas (nonconfrontational inter-
action), xii, 4

Sistema de Informacion Indigenista de Amér-
ica Latina. See Instituto Indigenista Inter-
americano (Peru) 3

Sixth International American Conference
(1928). See Stevens, Doris

Sociedad Federal de Trabajadores (1912), 8, 72

Solorzano Alfaro, Maria Emilia. See Beneme-
ritazgo

Sorbonne Nouvelle, Paris, 309

Stevens, Doris, 8-11

suffragism, vi, 8-11, 37, 61-83, 86, 113, 129, 335;
and Acufia Braun, Angela, 8-9, 35, 70-81,

364 Index

247, 274-75; and Carvajal, Maria Isabel
(Carmen Lyra), 72-77, 87; and the church,
69-70; and citizenship, 129; and Costa Ri-
can w0men’s first elections, 80; under patri-
archy, 62-66; struggle for, 70-81, 335; and
women’s education, 66-69

teachers, female, 68, 71

Teacher’s College. See Escuela Normal de
Heredia

Thomas—Hill hearings. See Clarence Thomas-
Anita Hill hearings

Tinoco, Federico, 7, 72

tourism. See exports

Trejos, Iosé Joaquin, 61

Tribunal Supremo de Elecciones, 121

tugurio(s), (squatter settlements). See housing
movement

tutela. See legal system

UACA. See Universidad Autonoma de Centro
América

UCR. See Universidad de Costa Rica

Ulate Blanco, Otilio, 78, 80

UNA. See Universidad Nacional

UNA-Mujer (bulletin), 285, 309

. UNA—Palabra (literary competition), 12

UNESCO. See United Nations Educational,
Scientific, and Cultural Organization

UNICEF. See United Nations Children’s
Emergency Fund

Union de Mujeres Americanas, 9, 274

Union of American Women. See Union de
Mujeres Americanas

Union Panamericana, 9, 87

United Nations Children’s Emergency Fund
(UNICEF), 17

United Nations Convention on the Elimina-
tion of All Forms of Discrimination
Against Women, 114 , 122, 287

United Nations Development Fund for
Women (UNIFEM), 179, 298, 301

United Nations Educational, Scientific, and
Cultural Organization (UNESCO), 302

United Nations Population Fund. See Fondo
de las Naciones Unidas para Actividades de
Poblacion

Universidad Autonoma de Centro América
(UACA), 12, 88, 196

Universidad de Costa Rica (UCR), viii, xv, 8,
12, 15, 17, 23, 33, 59, 69, 86, 88, 109, 145, 158,

173: 243» 267» 275» 273: 279» 237» 293» 304»
315; and Catedra Libre Eugenio Fonseca, 4,
33; and Centro de Investigacion de Tecn0—
logia en Alimentos, 290; and Escuela de
Ciencias de la Comunicacion Colectiva,
275; and Escuela de Pedagogia, 81, 85; and
Escuela de Trabajo Social, 243; and Facultad
de Derecho (Law School), 110; and Facultad
de Filosofia y Letras (Humanities), 15; and
Género y Envejecimiento, 145; and
INCIENSA, 290; and IICE, 290; and IIP,
290; and Instituto de Investigaciones S0-
ciales, 290; and Maestria Conjunta en Es-
tudios de la Mujer, xviii, 17, 23, 81, 145, 243,
278, 279, 289, 291; mission of, 289-92; and
Mujer, Género y la Ley, 243; and PRIEG,
viii, XV, 17, 109, 145, 243, 279, 287-92, 293,
315; publications of, 50, 290

Universidad de la Paz, 296

Universidad de Santo Tomas, 56, 66, 68. See
also Universidad de Costa Rica

Universidade Catolica de Minas Gerais, 88

Universidade Federal do Rio Grande do
Norte, 268

Universidad Estatal a Distancia (UNED), 268,
304

Universidad Nacional (UNA), viii, 12, 17, 50,
81, 88-89, 97, 104, 125, 145, 178, 196, 231, 243,
268, 278-80, 282, 293, 298, 302, 304-09, 315;
and Casa de la Mujer, 50, 279, 285; and Casa
de la Mujer (journal), 50, 285, 309, 315; and
CIDE, 307; and Escuela de Planificacion y
Promocion Social, 89; and IESTRA, 307;
and Facultad de Ciencias Sociales, 307; and
Facultad de Filosofia y Letras, 282; and
IEM, 50, 81, 88, 97, 125, 178, 231, 268, 278,
279, 280, 282-86, 293, 302, 309, 315; and In-
stituto del Nifio del Centro de Investigacion
y Docencia en Educacion, 88; and Maestria
Conjunta de Estudios de la Mujer, xviii, 17,
23, 81, 145, 243, 278, 279, 284, 289, 291; mis-
sion of, 283-85; and PIM, 280, 290, 298-
303; thematic priorities of, 283. See also
women at UNA

Universidad Nacional Autonoma de México
(UNAM), 178

Universidad Xaveriana, 302

University of Louvain, Belgium, 302

Valle Central, X, 40, 52
Ventana, V, 3, 13-18, 109, 160

Ventana (magazine), 3, 14
violence against women. See discrimination;
Mujer No Estas Sola; women and violence

Walker, William, 6, 54, 58, 87

WHO. See Organizacion Mundial de la Salud

Woman of the Americas. See Acufia Braun,
Angela

women, nineteenth century, 52-60; economic
activities of, 57-58; education of, 55-57, 66-
69; legal situation of, 54-55; and maiden
name, 54-55; property of, 55. See also
women in society; women and work

women and education, 55-57, 62, 66-69, 85-
86, 92, 115, 143

women and empowerment, 138, 144, 145, 154,
167, 172-76, 210-33

women and family life, 91-95, 105, 108, 113-17,
123, 143

women and religion, 62, 69-70, 211-33

women and sexuality, 148-49, 170-79

women and violence, Vii, 22, 25-26, 36, 42,
45-49, 96, 104, 108, 109, 138, 160-69; and
incest, vii, 45-47, 96, 108, 160-69, 170-79;
support groups for, 170-79. See also dis-
crimination; Mujer N0 Estas Sola; women
and sexuality

women and work, 42-43, 57-58, 115, 144, 195;
and farm women, 89-96. See also women
and family life

women at the Atlantic Coast, 142-45

women at UNA, viii, 280, 304-09

women in colonial times, V, 36, 39-51; and
black/Afro—Caribbean women, 18, 25, 48;
as conquistadora, 41; deviant, 46-47; eco-
nomic power of, 42-43; and family disin-
tegration, 26; indigenous, 18, 25, 41-50; and
matrimony, 43-45; mestizo, 48; as slave
owners, 42, 43, 48; as slaves, 48; social status
of, 47-49; and violence, 45-47; zambo, 48

women in organizations, vii, 234-44

women in society: and community participa-
tion, 93, 198-209, 210-33; discrimination
against, 87, 106-07, 137, 143-44; diversity of,
335; education of, 55-57, 66-69, 85-86, 92,
115; legal situation of, 54-55, 62-66, 99-136;
and use of maiden name, 54-55; political
participation of, 107, 120-21, 130, 133, 198-
209; working-class, 182, 185-90

women in the cooperative movement, vii, 182,
192-97; and educational leadership, 195,

Index 365

Ventancfs first issue was published in 1982. It covered a wide range of topics,
with articles on women’s political participation, sexual pleasure, the need for
critical awareness of statements or information about women, the question of
androgynism (absence of gender conflict) in peace studies, problems of Costa
Rican workers, the Double Day, machismo, aerobics and women’s need for
physical exercise, and questions of contraception, both female and male. (It is
interesting to note that, of the ten authors listed in that first issue in 1982, five
are also contributing to The Costa Rican Womerfs Movement.)

Over the next two years, Ventana published three additional issues, at con-
siderably irregular intervals. Publishing a magazine is expensive, and we faced
great economic difficulties. We received no support, since at that time financ-
ing agencies supported only income—generating, not consciousness—raising,
projects. Moreover, the group suffered from attrition. In 1985 several of our
members went abroad to study, and some joined other groups. Their depar-
tures added to our frustration at not bringing out the magazine more reg-
ularly, and we decided to stop publication.

We turned then to other activities, such as lectures, writing articles for other
publications, and offering workshops. In 1987 we put out a call to other women
to join the group Ventana. With new energy we increased our activities. We
initiated a permanent colloquium in the Humanities Division of the Univer-
sidad de Costa Rica on various topics related to women. We brought out a
small bulletin for International Women’s Day on March 8. We conducted
workshops and continued to Write for other publications.

After several months, differences of opinion about teamwork—new needs
as well as unfulfilled expectations—caused the group to break up. Some of us
continued with Ventana, while others created new groups or joined already
existing groups. We do not see these divisions as signs of failure; feminist
groups in other countries have experienced similar restructuring. Groups
often divide when they are going through a process of reorganizing. Individ-
uals with similar needs and expectations break away to form new groups.
Others draw upon the successes and limits of earlier organizations to broaden
and enrich the feminist movement with new ones. All of this is constructive
change, providing that the older groups do not attempt to “enlighten” the path
of the new ones, and the newer groups refrain from believing that they are the
true pioneers of the feminist movement in the country.

In retrospect, our experience with Ventana has taught us valuable lessons.
Members of a support group will see the world in different ways, and person-
alities will conflict from time to time. But if the members want to reach

The Group Ventana 15

women in the cooperative movement (cont.)
210-33. See also Comisién de Artesanos
Santa Elena—Monteverde

Women’s Delegation, Ministry of the Interior.

See Delegacion de la Mujer, Ministerio de
Gobernacion y Policia
women’s legal status, vi, 54-55, 99-136
women’s liberation, 31
women’s liberation movement. See Centro
Feminista de Informacién y Accion; Movi-
miento para la Liberacion de la Mujer
Women’s Studies, Ioint master’s program,

Maestria Conjunta en Estudios de la Mujer.

366 Index

See Universidad de Costa Rica; Universidad
Nacional

women with disabilities, vii, 139, 153-59; in
education, 156; and freedom of movement,
158; health care experiences of, 157-58; pov-
erty of, 158; social acceptance of, 158; in
workforce, 156

working-class women, vii, 182, 185-91

world literature, feminist reinterpretation of,
viii, 247, 269-75. See also feminism in the
arts

World Wildlife Fund. See Comisién de Arte-
sanos Santa E1ena—Monteverde

The COSIII Rican WOIl18Il’S Movement

Ilse Abshagen Leitinger, Editor and Translator

“Offers fresh, first-hand information on the contemporary women’s movement in a Latin
American country.”—Francesca Miller, University of California, Davis, Washington Center

This reader provides an insider’s view of the women’s movement in one small but quint-
essentially Latin American society. It collects the voices of forty—one diverse women—
some radical, others strongly conservative, and most ranging in between—as they write
about their lives and their experiences working for change within the Costa Rican
community.

Their voices resonate with those involved in the women’s movement worldwide and
provide invaluable first—hand accounts for students in women’s studies courses.

Articles are arranged thematically and include definitions of feminism in Costa Rica,
women in Costa Rican history, legal equality, discrimination, women in the arts, and the
status of women’s studies. Brief biographies of each author underscore the leadership of
Costa Rican women in Latin American feminism. The founders and editors of Mujer,
one of the most influential feminist journals in Latin America, are among the authors
represented here.

Ilse Abshagen Leitinger was internship coordinator and research supervisor at the
Institute for Central American Development Studies (ICADS) and a founding member
of the Latin American Institute of Feminist Research (ILIFEM), both in San Jose, Costa
Rica. She now lives in Littleton, Colorado.

Pitt Latin American Series

Cover art: Women’s support group at annual Women’s March Against Violence, November 24, 1995
Cover design: Louise OFarrell

ISBN 0-8229-5543-1

9llllllllllllllllllllllll Ill 1

780822 955436

 

Pitt Latin American Series

Billie R. DeWalt, General Editor

G. Reid Andrews, Associate Editor
Carmen Diana Deere, Associate Editor
Iorge I. Dominguez, Associate Editor

consensus, they must work together with respect, confidence, solidarity, and
commitment. Only then can the group resolve conflicts and reduce friction in
ways that will ensure that members are not harmed and the group is strength-
ened. This task is not easy. Groups must be aware of changes in the interests
and needs of their members if painful break-ups are to be avoided. Yet we insist
that groups must accept separation if the expectations and interests of the
members become too vastly different.

Currently, Ventana does not carry out any specific group projects. Nonethe- W

less, those of us who remain in the collective still meet several times each
month to enrich our lives by sharing our personal experiences and lending
each other emotional support in difficult situations. We also share news about
topics that interest us, personal undertakings, or the work of organizations in
which we are participating. Each of us works in her ownway to improve
women’s condition—in organizational training programs, producing teaching
materials, conducting action—oriented research with poor women, extending
feminist theory, or developing the theory of alternative law from a woman’s
perspective. As a group we have worked to promote legislation concerning
women, eliminate threats to programs that serve women, and denounce spe-
cific violations of women’s human rights.  

Thus, Ventana continues above all to be a support group, although in char-
acter slightly different from the one in earlier years. Today’s members of Ven-
tana are still optimistic, and we can see that our early efforts have borne fruit.
Other magazines that treat women’s problems from a feminist perspective are
now in circulation, and school teachers, university professors, and women’s
groups still use the old issues of Ventana. We see much interest among young
women in learning what Feminism is, and we note with satisfaction that many
women have lost their fear of identifying themselves as feminists.

In sum, we are satisfied to have been one of the first groups to contribute
toward establishing a gender identity among Costa Rican women. At the time
Ventana first met, conditions for feminist work were difficult, and we experi-
enced rejection, ridicule, and even aggression from both men and women. We
did not then have the support of feminist theory that we now have, nor did we
enjoy solidarity with most then—existing women’s organizations. Better condi-
tions and perspectives for feminist work prevail today. Some organizations
working with poor urban and rural women base their efforts on a gender
perspective. Some church women are rereading church doctrines. New part-
ners in our conversations, such as a feminist lesbian group, are enriching the
women’s movement. Last but not least, two state universities have established

16 Rosalia Camacho, Alda Facio Montejo, and Ligia Martin

special programs for gender studies (see Ferro, chap. 28 below, and Guzman,
chap. 29 below), and in the fall of 1993, have embarked on a joint master’s
program in Women’s Studies.

To all of this—or perhaps because of all of this—may be added the many
professionals who work from a gender perspective: psychologists, lawyers,
anthropologists, mathematicians, medical doctors, nurses, philosophers, and
many others not named here. Evidently, conditions have improved. But that
does not mean our struggle is less difficult or that our goals are within our
reach. Only if women throughout the world cooperate can we ensure the end
of patriarchy.

Biodata

Rosalia Camacho is a Costa Rican who graduated from the Universidad de Costa Rica
(UCR) in law. She also studied theater and has entered the newly established joint
master’s program in Women’s Studies of the UCR and the Universidad Nacional. She
has participated in activities related to women’s rights and until recently was deputy
director of the Programa Mujer, Género y Iusticia, Instituto Latinoamericano de Na-
ciones Unidas para la Prevencion del Delito y Tratamiento del Delincuente (ILANUD)
(United Nations Latin American Institute for the Prevention of Crime and Treatment
of Offenders). She also has collaborated in developing modules for women’s self-
management groups.

Alda Facio Montejo is a Costa Rican with degrees in chemistry from Roger Williams
College, Rhode Island, and in law from UCR; she has a master’s degree in comparative
jurisprudence from New York University. She is the director of ILANUD’s Women,
Gender, and Justice Program, has served as a judge, and has worked at the Instituto
Interamericano de Derechos Humanos (Inter—American Institute of Human Rights) in
San Iosé. With Laura Guzman, of Programa Interdisciplinario de Estudios de Género
(PRIEG) Interdisciplinary Gender Studies Program) of the UCR, and Rhonda Copelon
(of the City University of New York), Facio has taught the PRIEG/UCR graduate
extension seminar Sex, Gender, and Law. Her published work appears in the Boletin del
Comité Latino Americana para la defensa de los derechos de la rnajer (Lima, Peru) and in
El otro derecho of the Latin American Legal Services Institute (Bogota, Colombia). She
serves as a correspondent for the Latin American feminist monthly magazine Mujer/
Fempress. Her book Cuando el género saena cambios trae. Una metodologia para el
analisis de género del fenomeno legal (Gender awareness rings in change. A methodology
for a general analysis of the law), 1992, is in its third edition and is being translated into
English for use in Asia and Africa.

Ligia Martin, a Costa Rican, studied social anthropology in Mexico and has a

lmaster’s degree in rural sociology from the Universidad de Costa Rica. She teaches at

the Universidad National. She has variously worked as a consultant for international
agencies, for example, in developing training modules for women’s self—management
groups for UNICEF through the Centro de Estudios para la Accion Social (CEPAS)

The Group Ventana 17

(Research Center for Social Action), functioning as regional coordinator of a project
assessing women and community health of the Consejo Superior Universitario Cen-
troamericano (CSUCA) (Council of Central American Universities); as consultant on
an analysis of indigenous and Afro-Caribbean women’s groups in the province of
Limon, sponsored by the Defensoria de la Mujer, Ministerio de Iusticia (Office of the
Women’s Defender, then in the Ministry of Justice) and the Fondo de las Naciones
Unidas para Actividades de Poblacion (United Nations Population Fund); and as
coordinator of an analysis‘ of the situation of women in agriculture sponsored by the
Instituto Interamericano de Cooperacion para la Agricultura (IICA) (Inter—American
Institute for Cooperation in Agriculture) of the Organizacién de Estados Americanos
(OEA) (Organization of American States). Since 1993 she has been coordinator of the
new Defensoria de la Mujer, which is now part of the recently established Defensoria de
los Habitantes (of Costa Rica), or the Office of the Ombudsman. To ensure its freedom
of action, this office is an independent government institution and is no longer part of
the Ministry of Justice.

18 Rosalia Camacho, Alda Facio Montejo, and Ligia Martin

3 =§§ Improving the Quality
of Women’s Daily Lives

Costa Rica’s Centro Feminista
de Informacion y Accion

Ana Carcedo, Montserrat Sagot,
and Marta Trejos

The Centro Feminista de Informacion y Accion (CEFEMINA) (Feminist Cen-
ter for Information and Action) grew out of the Movimiento para la Liberacién
de la Mujer (MLM) (Women’s Liberation Movement). In 1974, a group of
women formed MLM to begin discussions, research, and campaigns from a
feminist perspective in Costa Rica. These women had just returned from study-
ing in Europe, where they had been influenced by the rise of the feminist move-
ment in developed countries. Following North American and European exam-
ples, MLM organized a series of activities that promoted women’s reproductive
rights: contraception, abortion, and the banning of forced sterilization.

In 1977, MLM extended its activities to include a new campaign against a bill
intended to prohibit the use of intrauterine devices (IUDs) on the grounds that
IUDs were a tool for abortion. At that time, MLM worked to organize opposi-
tion to the bill among poor women of the southern suburbs of San Jose and of
other communities; these women, the principal users of IUDs, were pro-
foundly disturbed by the possible consequences of the passage of such a bill.

Given the women’s well—organized opposition, the bill was never passed.
MLM decided to continue its work with the women of the poorest sections of
San lose because the campaign against outlawing IUDs had been a valuable
experience for MLM members: they had learned that they needed to revise
their approaches and work methods.

A Change in Name and Philosophy: MLM Becomes CEFEMINA

First and most important, MLM members decided they knew far too little
about the concrete problems of Costa Rican women in particular and of Latin

19

American women in general. Second, they resolved that the key to understand-
ing the specific situation of Costa Rican women lay in the daily problems these
women face, their own definition of these problems, and their own solutions
for them. Thus, the daily life of poor Costa Rican women and the needs those
women themselves expressed became decisive determinants for the definition
of subsequent feminist strategy.

So began a never-ending process of reconceptualization, a search for new
theoretical and practical insights that would provide characteristic elements of
a Latin American Feminism. As part of this process, MLM formally changed its
name in 1981 to the Centro Feminista de Informacion y Accion (CEFEMINA).

CEFEMINA’s Framework for Action

As a women’s organization, CEFEMINA focuses particularly on improving
women’s living conditions. It does not strive for an abstract philosophical
ideal; rather it springs from the reality it wants to transform. Current achieve-
ments are judged in terms of their value both in eliminating discrimination
against women and in the immediate improvements they make in women’s
lives. CEFEMINA therefore follows no preestablished paths and works toward
no predetermined ideal goals; each case history must be written anew, focused
on a specific problem with all members of the community sharing the respon-
sibility for constructing a solution. CEFEMINA believes that a better future for
women will be built on the foundation of a fairer, more equitable present
achieved through concrete actions by women and men today.

CEFEMINA’s commitment arises, then, out of the necessity of working for
and with a social group that has been systematically and traditionally discrimi-
nated against—a group that represents half of society. On the basis of this hu-
man solidarity, CEFEMINA formulates its objectives, incorporates new mem-
bers, and seeks collaborative ties with other groups. Because CEFEMINA’s
allegiance is to transforming the realities women face today, principles, analy-
ses, and theories are merely tools to shape our work; they are constantly revised
and can never take the place of the concrete objectives set for each new project.

CEFEMINA has attempted to maintain a total openness toward new possi-
bilities and a willingness to revise earlier conclusions. We therefore see no
justification for imposing ideological and political prerequisites upon those
who wish to join the movement to improve the living conditions of women.
Imposing such requirements on women and men already involved in such
actions would be even less justifiable. Similarly, CEFEMINA’ s criteria for judg-

2o Ana Carcedo, Montserrat Sagot, and Marta Trejos

ing the appropriateness of any alliance or form of cooperation with another

group can never be an ideological decision. Instead, such alliances are de-

termined by the presence of realistic options for concrete achievements for

women and for humanity in general, for CEFEMINA believes that discrimina-

tion against women has a negative effect on all people.

CEFEMINA considers itself part of a phenomenon that has begun to man-

ifest itself openly on our continent: We as women are looking for the place in

society where we can exert a positive influence on our own daily lives, our own
concrete realities. CEFEMINA’s practices repudiate a large part of the tenets
and the dogma of fundamental Feminism, but we maintain that orthodox
doctrines must give way to real actions and movements that have as their goal

the improvement of the daily quality of life.

CEFEMINA’s Programs

The preceding framework orients CEFEMINA’s actions and programs. In ad-
dition to publishing the magazine Mujer (Women) as an open forum for
discussion and analysis, CEFEMINA is currently sponsoring many important

projects, each of which does its own fund raising. Among these projects are the

following:

1.

Seven projects of housing self—construction, amounting to more than two thousand
houses, primarily for low—income, female-head-of-household families, which have
been completed, with additional projects starting up. Most of the participants
(90%) in these projects have been women and children. In these new communities,
CEFEMINA develops programs directed toward the improvement of the quality of
life of the women and the community in general. In such programs, women have
developed the first self—help groups in health services, including education about
the use of pharmaceutical products, campaigns against maternal mortality, preven-
tion programs against domestic violence, and projects to foster income generation
for women.

A loan service to women who want to start small businesses has been instituted.
This fund serves particularly the women of the housing projects and will encourage
them to start small building or construction businesses of their own.

On the basis of the experience obtained through the work with women in the com-
munities of those housing projects, CEFEMINA has created a program it calls Salud
Vivencial (Healthful Living). This is an all—encompassing concept that views health
not as an absence of disease but as the creation of conditions that permit the devel-
opment of the entire human potential. In this program, CEFEMINA has opened
three clinics for service to women and children of twenty-four—hundred families.

Improving the Quality of Women’s Daily Lives 21

4. CEFEMINA has promoted the creation of the first women’s trade union in the
country, called Mujeres (Women), which is accessible to all women who want to
improve their working conditions and their lives in general.

5. CEFEMINA, together with the Comité Nacional por la No Violencia Contra Ia
Mujer (National Committee for the Prevention of Violence Against Women), has
created Mujer No Estas Sola (Woman, You are Not Alone), a program of com-
prehensive services to battered women, with a network of support groups through-
out the country and a campaign for the prevention of violence against women (see
Carcedo, chap. 18 below).

6. As part of its concern with pushing for legal changes that help women, CEFEMINA
has developed the project Mujer y Administracion de Iusticia (Women and the
Administration of Iustice), with the goal of identifying concrete legal problems and
pushing for changes in legislation.

7. CEFEMINA promoted the creation of the Comité por la Igualdad de la Mujer en el
Deporte (Committee for Women’s Equality in Sports), which in 1990 organized the
first National Meeting on Women, Health, and Sports. This committee pushed for
the 1990 presidential decree that stipulates that women and men athletes who
compete in the same sports or events should be awarded the same prizes if the prize
has a monetary value.

8. As part of the task of discussing and spreading information on women’s problems,
CEFEMINA organized two national conferences in 1984 and 1988 on the situation of
Costa Rican women, as well as the Fifth International Congress on Women and
Health, which was held in Costa Rica in 1987. In 1990 and 1991, CEFEMINA again
called two national conferences, focused on the topic of violence against women,
and in San Iosé at the end of 1991, the Primer Encuentro Centroamericano y del
Caribe Sobre Violencia Contra la Mujer (First Central American and Caribbean
Meeting on Violence Against Women).

Conclusion

Throughout many years of action, CEFEMINA has remained true to its mem-
bers’ conviction that Feminism in Costa Rica must lead to giving all women—-
and particularly the poor—a sense of confidence and power in relation to
controlling the conditions of their lives. With that conviction, CEFEMINA
constantly explores new avenues of work with and for women, in response to
the needs that the women themselves express.

Biodata

Ana Carcedo was born in Spain and is a naturalized Costa Rican. She has been involved
in the women’s movement since the mid-1970s; she is one of the founders of the

22 Ana Carcedo, Montserrat Sagot, and Marta Trejos

Movimiento para Liberacién de la Muj er, which by 1981 had been transformed into the
Centro Feminista de Informacion y Accion. She currently serves as CEFEMINA’ s presi-
dent and also edits the magazine Mujer.

Montserrat Sagot is an anthropologist with a Ph.D. in sociology from The American
University, Washington,*D.C. She is a long—time member of CEFEMINA, professor of
sociology at the Universidad de Costa Rica, and until recently was research coordinator
of CEFEMINA. Currently, she is the chair of the master’s program in Women’s Studies,
the joint program of UCR and UNA.

Marta Trejos is a Costa Rican who has studied sociology at the Free University of
Brussels. She is one of the founders of MLM and CEFEMINA and is the executive
director of CEFEMINA.

Improving the Quality of Women’s Daily Lives 23

4 3% The Alianza de Mujeres
Costarricenses, a Popular Movement

An Impassioned Plea for Action—Oriented
Feminism

Ana Hernandez

The Alianza de Mujeres

Those of us who work daily in the defense of Women’s rights, social justice, and
peace must preserve the history of the women’s movement in Costa Rica so
that it will not be excluded from a general history of our nation. We must keep
alive the experience of thousands of women who struggled to create a better
life. Some say the Alianza is one of the oldest Women’s organizations in Central
America. It is, much to our own surprise! This longevity of the Alianza reflects
the persistence of simple women who are working for a popular women’s
organization.

The word popular—of the people—is most important for the Alianza. It
signals our dedication to many different kinds of women, without regard to
their race or political or religious beliefs. The Alianza’s members join in sup-
port of equality, to solve the problems we experience in this small Central
American country in which, although women are half the population, the
society is characterized by the word patriarchal and the state calls itself our
“benefactor.” These conditions connect us to a series of sociohistorical and
structural circumstances. They also cause us to join hands with other groups
that are struggling to overcome oppression because of their class, race, or
political beliefs, and that suffer the consequences of poverty, unemployment,
lack of services, and even repression.

For all these reasons, Feminism is for us closely linked with the common
struggle of simple people. We who work daily with women believe that Femi-
nism touches us as women and as social beings, that it promotes solidarity and
identity, and that it gives us strength to go on debating and constructing. We
believe fundamentally in the strength and capacity of women to open paths

24

toward well—being and freedom for themselves and for all human beings. On
this basis we speak of justice, equality, peace, and development. We believe in a
popular Feminism that does not need labels or fancy names. “Popular” for us
encompasses thinking and action because we believe theory and practice go
hand in hand. And we do not speak of women as “poor”; if we did we would be
opening doors to demagogues who exploit the word for their own gains.

The Alianza has many faces. Peasant women, housewives, working women,
professionals, indigenous and black women—all these have given character
and permanence to the Alianza since 1952. Many joined under watchwords
such as “defense of women’s rights,” “children’s rights,” and “peace.” We began
in urban neighborhoods and grew in the zones of banana plantations. From
every corner of Costa Rica women came to us, and we learned with them as we
shared sadnesses and joys, took one another’s hands, and grew strong enough
to go on.

We are sure our struggles inspired many women who took action for their
goals but did not want to acknowledge us. These women learned to participate
and began to think of themselves as strong. They supported struggles for land
for peasant women, for children’s centers, for training centers, for schools, and
for community works. They confirm for us the Alianza’s autonomy as a popu-
lar women’s organization.

Regardless of where we are, we are women and we maintain our identity as
women working with women. Many who watch us from the realm of politics
are afraid of us as they see us work, express opinions, and advance. We find
it interesting that when it comes to straightforward battles, agreements are
often reached more easily among women than among mixed— gender groups or
men’s organizations that represent the system of patriarchy.

Today, in order to respond to the multiple demands simple women bring
to us, the Alianza has extended its activities in many directions. We work
throughout Costa Rica. Many women come to us because of our new ideas for
defending women’s rights, not through formal legislation or proclamations—
which after all have not improved our situation very much—but through
offering alternative strategies, understanding that we are all human beings who
are attacked and who are discriminated against by society.

The services the Alianza offers are not paternalistic. Our principle is to let
the women speak and decide, for we know we are strongest when we act
together. Of course, the economic crisis has hit us hard, as mothers, workers,
and citizens. But we multiply our actions and our creativity to survive. We
recognize the feminization of poverty in inflation, social violence, the disin-

The Alianza de Mujeres Costarricenses 25

Ilse Abshagen Leitinger, Editor and Translator

The Costa Rican Women’s
Movement $3 A Reader

UNIVERSITY OF PITTSBURGH PRESS

tegration of the family, domestic violence, and poverty itself. Against all these,
we women organize ourselves. We plan our actions and our demands, and we
make decisions. We do not want to be merely companions who are manipu-
lated. We want to participate directly.

We women are conscious of the need to bring about a society in which we
can grow, develop, be happy, and consider ourselves full human beings with
complete equality, freedom, and responsibility. We want to be a great move-
ment of women who, together with other organizations and groups, construct
what we seek, namely: to have others treat us as human beings, to listen to us
with respect, to have no person tell us to shut up. We are not all-powerful or
irreverent; we are simply women who think, feel, and act. We do not suffer
from the disease of lust for power; we merely express the authority of our
opinion to act from our own perspectives and necessities as women.

Feminism has so many characteristics that can serve to unite us rather than
divide us; problems of gender are also problems of class, not separated from
politics. The world changes every day, and we cannot remain behind and
permit others to speak of us as objects. We are actors in history, and we will
construct our new history in a spirit of strength and love and with an eye on
the future.

The Alianza in 1992

In 1992, the Alianza was operating in fourteen regions of the country, from the
Pacific Southwest near Panama and the Caribbean coast in the east, to the
northern lowlands near the Nicaraguan border, to the dry coastal strip of the
Pacific Northwest, and to major population centers of the Central Valley. Each
region contains three to five local groups of women with vastly differing needs;
members may be rural or urban and may live in either long-established or
recently initiated neighborhoods.

The Alianza works with limited resources: Local groups raise funds for their
own needs, and each group’s work is done mainly by volunteers. The central
office of the Alianza counts on some financial support, especially for legal
counseling and advisory work, from the Dutch, nongovernmental, interna-
tionally connected Organizacion Catolica de Participacion en la Financiacion
de Programas de Desarrollo (Catholic Organization for Participation in the
Financing of Development Programs).  

Daily activities are dictated by members’ needs. The Alianza’s governing

26 Ana Herrzcindez

body meets monthly, and, of course, for annual planning once a year. Thus,
in March 1992, representatives of all groups from around the country gathered
in San Jose to determine the plan of action for the year. (Junta Directiva
Nacional, 1992). Besides proposing a strengthening of the organization itself
and of its training programs for legal advisers, Alianza members requested
technical training for income—generating projects and workshops and train-
ing or counseling sessions on domestic violence, human sexuality, manage-
ment, and marketing. In many of these programs the Alianza cooperates
with the Asociacion de Trabajadoras Domésticas (Association of Domestic
Workers).

The text of the following flier shows what one local women’s group achieved.
It is an example of our action—oriented Feminism, which gives women decision-
making power through self—confidence and inspires community—focused prob-
lem solving.

Women in Action—An Open Letter to All Neighbors in Calle Cochea

The group Alianza de Mujeres of Calle Cochea wishes to inform you that:

On March 10, 1992, we had a meeting with the manager of Metrocoop, requesting
the establishment of the promised bus service for this community.

On March 17, 1992, we met with the manager of Metrocoop and municipal
officials to arrive at concrete agreements and draw attention to other community
problems, such as public safety.

On March 31, 1992, we attended the session of the municipality to verify that the
agreements were being carried out. We obtained the bus schedule to which Metro-
coop has committed itself. This schedule will be put up for all to see. Let us watch
for it.

Together we have achieved this.

Reminder to all women—we meet every Wednesday at 3:00 p.m. in the meeting
rooms of the San Iosecito Catholic Church for training sessions for women on
topics such as law, health, psychology, and organization. We are expecting you.

Alianza de Mujeres de Calle Cochea

Biodata

Ana Hernandez is a Costa Rican women’s leader who became a feminist through her
experience of working with the Asociacion Alianza de Mujeres Costarricenses (AMC)
(Alliance of Costa Rican Women). “I learned about women in my work and studies
with women of the Alianza.”

The Alianza de Mujeres Costarricenses 27

References

Junta Directiva Nacional. Programacién 1992. March 14, 1992. Internal document.

Acknowledgment

I acknowledge the help of all the Women from whom I learned to be a woman and to
help other women.

28 Ana Herncindez

5 32% Women’s Liberation from
Servitude and Overprotection

Carmen Narcmjo Cato

Critics of feminism say it has concentrated on actions for women who are
“with it” or “up to date”—those who all along have been conscious of the
problems women face. They claim feminism had to become a kind of escape
valve, a way of appeasing the different social strata and muffling their impa-
tience over injustices and discrimination, even though the relief women felt by
venting their frustrations offered neither a solution nor an inspiration to seek
full incorporation into society.

Servitude: Women’s Gravest Problem

To my way of thinking, the core problem of women lies in the human servitude
to which they have been subjected throughout history. Servitude does not
foster communication, respect for rights, or human consideration. Rather, it
cancels creativity and blocks personal and social fulfillment.

Women have always been servants, their image cloaked in domesticity. The
architecture of the home clearly fits that image. We see women busy in the bed-
room, kitchen, dining room, or some other room dedicated to housework-
rarely do they enter the living room, study, or library except to clean these
areas and put them in order. Even in recent times, as appliances and new
housekeeping techniques have made housework more versatile and creative,
women’s duties in the home have remained limited to the exercise of specific
skills.

Women’s domestic image also carries over to the workplace. In factories,
they gather in large halls, working at product-assembly conveyor belts, where
they perform tasks step by step, like mutilated housework.

In the office, women labor to print out the creative works of others. Sim-
ilarly, in other areas of business, women always serve, translating their experi-
ence as buyers into the commercial experience of sellers. Only in exceptional

29

cases and under extraordinary conditions do women move beyond manual
labor and enter the world of intellectual contributions.

Of course, manual labor is not humiliating as such, nor does it always
represent human servitude. After all, manual labor itself uses some creative
talent; in the highest arts, intellectual and manual labor are combined. Servi-
tude begins when humans are confined to only one type of work, when they
are prevented at all costs from going beyond that area which is declared to be
their customary tasks. Circumscribed by gender typing, work then brings
about human servitude because it sacrifices—through manifold limitations—
creative human potential and thus virtually imprisons the worker. Human
servitude occurs also when we deny human beings the opportunity of acquir-
ing experience on their own, reasoning that such recourse is simply not per-
missible for a specific gender.

The Overprotection of Women

The so-called protection of women has placed limits on them in all areas.
Ideals proclaiming women’s purity and weakness and their inability to suffer
and survive have disqualified women at the very moment when they should
have begun their apprenticeship for a life full of opportunities and enriching
challenges. The extent of the disqualification into which the feminine world
has been locked appears in the desolate figure of the widow who must sud-
denly satisfy all of the spiritual and material demands of her family.

i This overprotection of women determines their “appropriate” tasks, mod-
eled after the tasks they fulfill at home. In areas that demand cordiality—a cer-
tain touch, the lending of help, the giving of care—women must be involved.

The Tragedy of Housework

Since I am using terms that can be willfully blurred or jumbled, let me clarify
myself: I do not underrate housework, which indeed allows creativity and
affords enjoyment and personal fulfillment. Working in the kitchen, sewing,
weaving, decorating, cleaning, generally improving the home—these activities
can be constructive activities, providing a sense of satisfaction and usefully
uniting the family. To share obligations, to participate in household duties, to
learn to divide housework produces harmony, shared efforts, communication,
and broader understanding. It is when household obligations always rest with
one person, who then becomes a permanent tireless servant, that they lead to

30 Carmen Naranjo Cato

irritated exhaustion. In most cases, the weight of those obligations is misun-
derstood, and as a result the family is not strengthened but rather weakened or
exhausted.

I have frequently pointed to the tragedy that we acknowledge housework
only when efficiency is 1acking—when bread burns, buttons come off, furni-
ture grows dusty, shirts are poorly ironed, and some tasks are forgotten. We
accept the unending routine, performed day after day, with gratitude and
silent recognition, simply by failing to notice or honor it, as if it did not merit
appreciation. We recognize or, administratively speaking, evaluate that routine
only when we criticize, show defects, or complain belligerently about errors or
about the partial or total neglect of tasks.

The Goals of Women’s Liberation

From various points of view, when we speak about women we must speak
about liberation, but not in the sense of breaking with what constitutes a
woman’s intimate being, individual characteristics, possibilities of fulfillment,
and free choice. To liberate is not to determine behavior or establish patterns
but instead to break with what up to now has been limitation, difficulty, and
negation. To liberate is to open horizons for a wide array of options.

The term liberation has indeed been so poorly understood that many
women insist they do not want to liberate themselves. Applauding the tradi-
tional role they have played and weighing its privileges and disadvantages, they
state themselves to be against all that cuts them off from that role. They fail to
appreciate that this role grew out of a history that viewed women as family
property, little-wanted beings, precisely because they were deemed to be so
limited. Those women do not understand that liberation will not affect their
interests and preferences because the goal is not to liberate specific groups of
women. The mission is broader: It encourages social change so that all individ-
uals may achieve, on their own, the very best life possible, within their own set
of responsibilities toward the meaning of life. To liberate means balancing
equality of facilities and opportunities with equality of duties and rights.

Sometimes it seems that in our world we place more value on a perfectly
cooked potato than on our chance to offer to women the environment they
need to grow and become stronger, to achieve self—realization as human be-
ings. Our current conditions seem to lack respect for interests, callings, or
curiosities that differ from traditional conceptions. But all individuals have the
right to develop their potential and to orient their creative energy so as to

Women’s Liberation from Servitude and Overprotection 31

32

achieve the best results for themselves and society. Limitations, discrimination,
and prejudice lead only to frustrations and injustice, which we must eliminate
from our communities.

The voices that demand justice have a long history and have expressed their
demands clearly in all ages. Women want to go beyond traditional conventions
and live in freedom with equality of rights, opportunities, and responsibilities.

When we speak about liberating women from ties, bonds, limitations, and
prejudices, some critics deliberately misinterpret our words to mean intro-
ducing women to licentiousness, social vices, masculine behavior, and some
sort of near-barbarism. These critics also contend that female liberation goes
against the principles of the family and that it threatens the fundamental bases
of society. They harbor strong prejudices against women, considering them
basically weak, in need of protection, without spiritual or moral strength,
and incapable of judging between good and evil or of acting prudently and
with equilibrium. Maybe family and social life was easier for men when they
could count on servitude, obedience, and submission of women. But one day,

. though it may come late, the time of justice will come, and the hand of justice

will knock at our door and take over. It is now knocking at the doors of many
people, both women and men.

But it is also true that liberating women will mean liberating them from the
foolish excuses behind which they have hidden, such as the perception that
they are the queens of the home or the power behind the throne. To the
contrary, a feminist reading of their situation shows clearly that women are the
hidden victims, eternal servants of routine and boredom, riding in the last car
of the train, doing laundry or dishes, and preparing delicious foods for others,
not for themselves.

Liberating women does not mean putting them on a pedestal, proclaiming
them to be divine, exceptional creatures who can be touched only in dreams or
mystic visions. Such an image would rob them of soul and body—of every-
thing they have—and would send them into nothingness. To liberate them, in
reality, is to strengthen their own development, future, and destiny. It is not to
make women into people who merely go along, who are only distant others,
but to give them the role of independent interpreter, hand in hand with other
interpreters. It is to open a space for their voices, their judgments, their points
of view. It is giving them the opportunity of creating and fulfilling themselves.

To liberate women is to free them from traditional roles, double— and triple-
shift workdays, exhausting routines, limited geographies, and endless waiting,
prohibitions, and fears. It is to fill them with freedoms, hopes, decisions, and

Carmen Narcmjo Coto

joys. It is to show them that their horizons are wide and that they have within
them their own spaces in which to grow, to be, to share, and to aspire to
carrying out a vocation, a wish, or a mission. Liberating women is to make
them look into an illuminated mirror and stop seeing themselves only as a
complement to someone else.

Biodata

Carmen Naranjo is a Costa Rican who holds a licenciatura degree in philology from the
Universidad de Costa Rica. She has written novels and short stories and is also an
essayist and poet. From 1972 to 1974, she was the Costa Rican ambassador in Israel.
As minister of culture, youth, and sports (1974-76), she established in the Ministry
of Culture the Oficina Nacional de la Mujer (National Women’s Office), which has
evolved into today’s Centro Nacional para el Desarrollo de la Mujer y la Familia (CMF)
(National Center for the Development of Women and Family), or more popularly,
Mujer y Familia, Ministerio de Cultura, Juventud y Deportes (MCID) (Ministry of
Culture, Youth and Sports). She has also been the director of the Museo de Arte
Costarricense (Museum of Costa Rican Art) (1982-84); director of the Editorial Uni-
versitaria Centroamericana (Central American University Press) (EDUCA; 1984-92),
at that time the official publisher for the Consejo Superior Universitario Centroameri-
cano (CSUCA) (Council of Central American Universities). She is a member of the
Academia Costarricense de la Lengua (Costa Rican Academy of the Language). In 1984,
with Alda Facio, Mirta Gonzalez, and Laura Guzman, she organized the first lecture
series on Women and Society under the auspices of the Catedra Libre Eugenio Fonseca
(Eugenio Fonseca Lecture Series) at the UCR. Currently, she continues writing and is
frequently invited to lecture abroad. In early 1996, on occasion of the fiftieth anniver-
sary of the award of the Nobel Prize in Literature to Chilean poet Gabriela Mistral,
Carmen Naranjo was one of fifty writers throughout the world to receive—from the
Chilean government—the Medal Gabriela Mistral.

Acknowledgment

This article is based on a chapter in Mujer y Cultura, published by Editorial Univer-
sitaria Centroamericana, 1989.

Women’s Liberation from Servitude and Overprotection 33


II % MAKING WOMEN VISIBLE
IN COSTA RICAN HISTORY

Angela Acufia B., the first Woman lawyer in Costa Rica, Costa Rican ambassador
to the OAS, founder of the Liga Feminista, fighter for the women’s vote

Published by the University of Pittsburgh Press, Pittsburgh, Pa. 15261
Copyright © 1997, University of Pittsburgh Press

All rights reserved

Manufactured in the United States of America

Printed on acid—free paper

10987654321

Library of Congress Cataloging—in-Publication Data

The Costa Rican women’s movement: A Reader / Ilse Abshagen
Leitinger, editor.
p. cm. — (Pitt Latin American series)

Includes bibliographical references and index.

ISBN 0-8229-3862-6 (acid—free paper). —

ISBN 0-8229-5543-1 (pbk.: acid—free paper)

1. Feminism——Costa Rica. 2. Women—Costa Rica—Economic
conditions. 3. Women—-Costa Rica—Social conditions. 4. Equality—
Costa Rica. 5. Sex discrimination against women-—Costa Rica.
1. Leitinger, Ilse Abshagen. II. Series.

HQ1473-C67 1993

3o5.42’o97286—dc2o 94-41579

A CIP catalog record for this book is available from the British Library.
Grateful acknowledgment is made to the following photographers

who provided photographs for this book: Luis A. Howell C.,
Betsy MacMichael, and Liz Miller.

IN COSTA RICA, women’s history is beginning to attract not only professional
historians but also feminists from other disciplines who are intent upon docu-
menting women’s contributions to Costa Rican life throughout history, par-
ticularly over the last five hundred years. Scholars working in the field are using
two approaches: They reassess existing documentation, considering it from a
gender perspective, and they explore social history as it relates to women, i.e.,
by focusing attention on individual women, whether by gathering oral recol-
lections or by analyzing a variety of hitherto unknown or untouched docu-
ments. This sectionoffers examples of both of these approaches, as well as
some insight into differences of interpretation that may result from the dif-
ferent points of departure.

Women in Colonial Costa Rica: A Significant Presence,
A by Cora Ferro Calabrese and Ana Maria Quiros Rojas

Introducing women in the province of Costa Rica during colonial times, Cora
Ferro Calabrese and Ana Maria Quiros Rojas speak about the same individual
efficacy noted earlier in this Reader (see Calvo, chap. 1, and introduction).
They trace this growing sense of identity as they document women’s tenacity,
their stubborn sense of self—worth, their often unsuccessful struggles for jus-
tice, and their economic enterprises. Some women skillfully used openings in
the colonial system to make tangible contributions to survival in a society
dominated by the fusion of three kinds of patriarchy——the Spanish colonial
power, the Catholic Church, and Indian tribal societies.

The authors’ research is based on 939 documents, covering the period 1519
to 1825, from the archives of the Curia Metropolitana (Metropolitan Curia) in
San Jose, Costa Rica. Ferro and Quiros give an overview of colonial Costa Rica
and analyze the position and activities of women in colonial society, describing
women’s power, position in matrimony, and social status, as well as patterns of
violence against women. They show that although women were active and
occasionally powerful in economic and church affairs, they were easily pre-
sumed guilty of licentious behavior and, throughout the period, had to strug-
gle against patriarchal control and domination. The authors conclude that
women in colonial Costa Rica suffered the effects of the above—mentioned
triple patriarchy, that the contribution of women to the well-being and sta-
bility of colonial Costa Rica has not received the attention it deserves, and that
the history of the period should be rewritten to concede to women their
rightful position.

36 Making Women Visible in Costa Rican History

Contradictory Aspects of Costa Rican Women’s History During the
Nineteenth Century, by Clotilde Obregén Quesada

Clotilde Obregén looks at women in the context of independent Costa Rica in
the nineteenth century. The study documents contradictory dimensions in the
experiences of nineteenth—century Costa Rican women. Although their legal
status, for example, deteriorated with the introduction of the “progressive”
French legislation that superseded traditional Spanish law, women’s oppor-
tunities for educational and economic activities were considerable and, in fact,
were improving toward the end of the period. Many of these women demon-
strated the same individual efficacy referred to earlier.

The Suffragist Movement in Costa Rica, 1889-1949, by Sara Sharratt

In her analysis of the sixty years of suffragist struggle between 1889 and 1949,
Sara Sharratt details the political roots of the women’s movement. She docu-
ments women’s fate in the educational system and the Catholic Church as well
as women’s support of Costa Rican democracy at a time when women were
subject to the legal constraints of discriminatory Costa Rican constitutions.
For years women supported democratic struggles without being allowed to
share in the political benefits. Teachers and other educated women were par-
ticularly active in these political struggles, although the successes did little to
advance their own situation. Women finally focused on their own right to vote,
achieving it, after tenacious and courageous efforts, only forty years before
Costa Rica celebrated its 1989 “Centennial of Democracy.” During the suffrag-
ist movement, women believed they could become equal participants in an
integrated democratic system. Today’s feminists have come to doubt that this is
possible without profound societal transformation.

Unusual Costa Rican Women: Three Who Were Proclaimed
“Distinguished Citizens of the Nation,” by Ana Isabel Gamboa Hernandez
and Sara Gurfinkiel Hermann

In their discussion of women awarded the Costa Rican Benemeritazgo de la

Patria (Award for Distinguished Citizenship), Analsabel Gamboa and Sara
Gurfinkiel echo the same theme Yadira Calvo introduced in the first selection
in this Reader. They describe women of strong identity, self—confidence, initia-
tive, and commitment or, to use the earlier term, individual efficacy. At the
same time, the authors reveal the machista pattern of thinking that character-
izes the process of awarding the Benemeritazgo.

Making Women Visible in Costa Rican History

37

To be declared a distinguished citizen by the Costa Rican Legislative Assem-
bly is the highest honor a citizen may receive, an honor that as a rule is
bestowed only several years after the recipient’s death. Up to September 24,
1992, when the recently deceased former president Pepe Figueres was awarded
this honor, 51 men had received the award, but only three women had been
award recipients. The authors offer short life stories of these three women-
Maria Emilia Solorzano, a president’s wife; Emma Gamboa, an educator; and
Angela Acufia, a woman lawyer and civil rights activist. The authors propose
that lack of education, the patriarchal enforcement of women’s traditional
roles, and an androcentric perception of appropriate criteria for selection of
distinguished citizens are the most likely reasons for the limited number of
women represented.

Peasant Women’s Autobiographies: Women’s Double Contribution to the
Rural Economy, by Zaira Escamilla Gutiérrez and Lorena Vargas Mora

The final contribution in this section is one of the few in this volume—and
in available sources on Costa Rican women in general——-that refer to rural
women. Zaira Escamilla and Lorena Vargas let five peasant women speak for
themselves through selections from their autobiographies, illustrating yet an-
other example of the individual-efficacy roots of today’s women’s movement.
The authors’ selections focus on women’s twofold contribution to the Costa
Rican agricultural economy through their work in the fields and their efforts
toward their families’ survival. In this male-dominated rural society, women,
through their courage and hard work, make a vital economic contribution and
traditionally have viewed their contribution as natural, offering it without
seeking to share control of the product of their labor. In more recent years,
however, farm women have branched out into nonfarm activities for wages
and have become more involved in their communities.

38 Making Women Visible in Costa Rican History

6 %% Women in Colonial Costa Rica
A Significant Presence

Cora Ferro Calabrese and Ana Maria Quirés Rojas

It is difficult for women to survive in any society in which strong patriarchal
systems of different cultural origins come together and reinforce each other. In
colonial Costa Rica, it was particularly difficult because three patriarchal tradi-
tions-—-those of the Spanish colonial system, the Roman Catholic Church, and
indigenous tribal societies——converged during colonization. More than a gen-
eration after major centers in Mexico, Guatemala, and South America had
been settled, colonists entered Costa Rica from the Pacific coast, where they
established only weak institutions and existed in complete isolation under
conditions of extreme poverty (see, e.g., MacLeod, 1980; Monge Alfaro, 1976).

The contributions of women to the struggling colonial society have not been
acknowledged by most experts on the colonial history of Costa Rica (see, e.g.,
Fernandez, 1889; Monge Alfaro, 1976), but even five hundred years of patriar-
chal history have not entirely eliminated their traces. We hope to rescue women
from this invisibility and, in doing so, to strengthen the historical record.

Light and Shadow: Colonial Women’s Lives

The present study is based on an ongoing analysis of 2,609 documents from
the years 1519 to 1825 which are stored in the Curia Metropolitana in San Jose
(Ferro and Quirés, 1992). These records were transcribed from early church
language into modern Spanish by two Costa Rican historians (Thiel, 1896,
1897, 1898; Blanco Segura, 1967). They have also been indexed in part (CD,
1985, 1986)} In terms of analysis, however, historians have hardly touched this
rich resource.

Throughout Central American history, religious centers such as monas-
teries, convents, or ecclesiastic offices have functioned as archives for a variety
of records. These stored documents contribute significantly to our ability to
reconstruct the culture and history of the Women of Costa Rica and their

39

social, political, and economic roles in earlier periods. Of the 2,609 documents
in the Metropolitan Curia, 939 (36%) refer to women. Of that number, 455
(48.5%) relate to women and economic power, 380 (4o.5%) to women and
the institution of matrimony, 87 (9.2%) to violence against women, and 17
(1.8%) to women and social status. The documents reveal glimpses of women
who were active, enterprising, capable, and decisive, yet at the same time
constrained by cultural circumstances, limited by religious convictions, and,
over time, deprived of their power through a process of impoverishment and
subordination.

In what follows, we begin with a sketch of some aspects of the historical
context of the colonial period. We then present an analysis of women in vari-
ous spheres of society, focusing on their economic power, their social status,
their position in matrimony, and the problem of violence against women.
We include some anecdotal records to show the hard historical reality these
women faced daily and the frequently prejudiced assessment of those who
wrote the historic documentation.

Historical Context

The development of the province of Costa Rica during the colonial period was
influenced by three factors. First, the distance from Guatemala—at that time
the center of the Capitania General, the regional colonial government—placed
Costa Ricans at the margin of political processes and decisions. Second, the
legal obstacles against trade with Costa Rica’s neighbor Panama, which then
belongedto another colonial region, put Costa Ricans at an economic disad-
vantage. And third, the fierce resistance against colonization on the part of the
Indians between the Talamanca Mountains and the Caribbean coast threat-
ened the internal peace of the province.

Costa Rica’s economic, social, and political development was slow and was
concentrated almost entirely in the highlands of the Central Valley, with poor
communications to both coasts. As late as 1731, one document called the
province “the end of the world . . . no doctor, no surgeon, no pharmacy, no
barber, no hospital, no medicines, women are healers and provide barbershop
services to priests and other residents” (Blanco Segura, 1967: 258).

The situation these contemporary documents consider so deplorable dem-
onstrates women’s capacity to face the challenges to their survival. For exam-
ple, during this early period, women settlers produced flour and cakes to feed
their families, and they also exchanged extra flour and cakes with traders

4o Cora Ferro Calabrese and Ana Maria Quirés Rojas

for clothing. Some of their products were eventually exported to the ports
of Portobelo, Panama, and Cartagena, Colombia. This early contribution of

3 women in the development of such small industries was undoubtedly impor-

tant, although it usually is not acknowledged by the historians.

Historians have also presented the conquest and colonization of the Amer-
icas as a missionary enterprise (Dussel, 1983). Religiosity imbued all colonial
institutions, and baptism served as an instrument of domination over indige-
nous peoples. Through baptism, they became subjects of the Spanish king,
who took their riches and legitimized the abuse and sexual exploitation of
their women. “Our missionaries converted them, took their gold, even their
women and children and the other goods, and left them as formally baptized”
(Fernandez, 1889: 547).

The Indians suffered lamentable exploitation, and most of the weight of this
injustice fell on women. However, all the records we analyzed were written
almost as though Indian women did not exist. The documents reveal that
colonists considered “male Indian workers”—whom they counted in a 1529
census—as if they were the only inhabitants of these lands (Thiel, 1896, no. 99:
28-29). In 1684 statistics, Indian women appear only with reference to their
work as maids in the houses of doctrineros (missionaries) or in the censuses
used as the basis for the collection of tributes (Thiel, 1897, no. 107: 133). There,
for tax purposes, the doctrineros had to take annual counts not only of the
number of married, single, and widowed Indian men but also of the number
of unmarried Indian women (Thiel, 1987, no. 106: 123).

The colonists did have one further interest in Indian women: They were
used to repopulate the land to compensate for the scarcity of laborers and the
decrease in tributes collected by the king. Therefore, in 1796, the captain
general in Guatemala revoked a rule barring Indian women from marrying
Ladinos (Spanish-indigenous mixed population) (AE, n.d., no. 36). Simulta—
neously, religious institutions added to their goals the provision of dowries so
that young Indian women could qualify for marriage.

The sparse data we collected document not only the barbaric treatment
indigenous women received but also the fate of the Spanish women who
participated in the conquest. Few traces now exist of the women colonists—of
their thinking, their actions, or their lives. In fact, their names appear in the
documents only rarely. For example, although a listing of the village of Gara-
bito for the year 1569 carries the names of all male conquistadores, noting the
number of Indians each received, only one woman conquistadora is listed.
Even though she was powerful enough to be allotted 40o Indians, she has no

Women in Colonial Costa Rica 41

42

name. She was identified only by her descent from a Spanish male: “the heiress
of Miguel Sancho” (Thiel, 1896, no. 1oo: 44).

Women and Economic Power

Of the 455 documents that mention women and economic power, 351 (77%)
reflect some dynamic participation of women in the economic life of the
colony. Most of these records related to inheritances, dowries, wills, collections
of money, arrangements of debts, real estate, and property in slaves. Many
documents clustered around two institutions: cofradias (brotherhoods, re-
ligious associations) and capellanias de misas (chaplaincies for saying mass).
The cofradias and capellanias de misas were the core of the religious life of the
province, and the economic activities of women were directly related to them.

Within the rigid structure of cofradias, women were limited to either re-
ceiving benefits from, or providing money to, the organization. The first time a
woman appears in such a document is in 1604, when the board of the Cofradia
de la Purisima gave a dowry to a “Senorita Catalina Quesada, Spaniard, daugh-
ter of Juan Quesada, Spaniard, deceased, and the Indian woman Maria Ojeda.
The endowed women had a special place in the procession of the day, the
public demonstration of the cofradia’s splendor” (Thiel, 1897, no. 102: 70). In
cofradia activities, women, always in association with their husbands, sup-
ported the organization with their dowries or money. However, although they
donated the capital for cofradias, women held no positions of power.‘Some
were awarded honorable titles, such as “Patroness of the Year”; others were
appointed as inspectors, responsible for supervising cleanliness and decora-
tion of the religious functions or processions.

In contrast to their lack of power, women received the direct blame for the
moral deterioration of some cofradias when licentious customs grew up. Con-
temporaries presumed that women took advantage of the ample physical space
in the cofradias to commit adultery: reasons for choosing the location were
given as lack of privacy and space in the women’s own small houses, married
women’s fear of their husbands, and young women’s fear of their mothers
(Blanco Segura, 1967: 202).

A 1640 document first mentions the participation of women in capellanias:
“Captain Alonso de Sojo and his wife Lucia de Alas bought the cattle ranch in
the valley Mata Redonda,” which was indebted to a capellania (Thiel, 1897 no.
1o4: 94-95). Later, women commonly participated in capellanias by donating
gifts or money for a pious cause. A 1669 document reads: “In the city of
Espiritu Santo, Dofia Maria Vasquez Vallejo, wife of the official Juan Fernandez
Salinas y Serdas, with her husband’s authorization, donated to Nuestra Sefiora

Cora Ferro Calabrese and Ana Maria Quiros Rojas

de los Angeles a cacao grove of 280 trees at the Madre de Dios River, Matina, its
product to be invested to construct the church Nuestra Sefiora de los Angeles
in Cartago, so that Mass would be said in that church every Sunday and on all
feast days and holidays” (Thiel, 1897, no. 105: 106).

In many cases, a woman who was left in difficult circumstances after her
husband’s death and was unable to continue the high contributions for ca-
pellanias ceded the income from her holdings—or even their title—to the
capellanias. Transactions of capellania properties discussed in church courts
provoked numerous lawsuits, sometimes involving women. Often the bishop
had to intervene, “a true plague of annoyance and setbacks for authorities and
people” (Blanco Segura, 1967: 196). Large debts of capellanias, lawsuits, or
appeals required the participants to travel to the archdiocese in Leon, Nic-
aragua. The situation was very serious, for noncompliance for such debt obli—
gations carried the threat of excommunication (Thiel, 1898, no. 117: 296). A
document of March 3, 1729, illustrates: “Dofia Feliciana Chinchilla gave up the
income from her house in Cartago . . . encumbered with 8oo pesos from
different capellanias. The authorities examined . . . the house, [and] allowed a
reduction of the sum, but she had to pay what she owed with the products of
her hacienda in Matina” (Thiel, 1898, no. 119: 342).

Though the documents we studied do not specifically mention women slave
owners, slaves were often included in the list of goods in deeded property given
in transactions to create capellanias. Thus, one can infer that because a high
number of women were involved in the creation of capellanias, the number of
women owning slaves was probably also high. An 1811 document lends cre-
dence to this inference in citing a “Petition made by Tomasa Guzman that
Father Felix Garcia be charged 14o pesos he owes her for a slave she sold him”
(CD, 1985, no. 18: 44).

Thus the economic link between women and capellanias led to women’s
impoverishment and loss of power. In some cases, only the names of rivers-
such as the Maria Aguilar, El Virilla, and Maria Torres—bear witness today to
the women who once owned large holdings of land and property. Historians
need to study the relationship between women’s losses and the growing eco-
nomic power of ecclesiastic institutions over the centuries.

Women and the Institution of Matrimony

Of the 939 documents relating to women, 439 were linked to matrimony.

Matrimony and economic issues were closely interrelated because the policies

that governed matrimony also directly affected benefits of crown and church.
From the beginning of the conquest, marriage between Spaniards and in-

Women in Colonial Costa Rica 43

digenous people had been encouraged in Costa Rica, despite the law of the
Viceroyalty against such marriages. That law was revoked in 1796. While these
marriages had increased the Christianization of the Indians, they had created
problems for women and children, inasmuch as Indians of this area practiced
their own patriarchal system of polygamy. Christian marriage obliged them to
give up this practice, so many second or third wives and their children were
abandoned. Yet, Christian marriages relieved problems of population disper-
sion as Christian-Indian marriages stabilized families and settlements. None-
theless, despite the emphasis on institutionalizing marriage, the number of
marriages was very low, and 35.9 percent of births were illegitimate in the
seventeenth century (Thiel, 1897, no. 109: 116).

The documents in the archives focus primarily on special permits for mar-
riage and sentences to obligatory marriage. The many applications for special
marriage permits were handled speedily, a sign that matrimony was held in
high favor. Most special requests were necessitated by close blood relationships
or a woman’s illegitimate—birth status.

Women had an active role in men’s sentences to obligatory marriage be-
cause of nonfulfillment of a marriage promise. Most claims were brought by
women, but the judge almost always decided in favor of the man. A rare
decision in favor of the woman occurred if there were several children, if an
announcement of the betrothal had been made as the church required, or if a
man of high civil or religious rank filed a claim on behalf of the woman. For
example, Cayetana de Soto declared that Bernardo de Fuentes refused to marry
her after he had given his word and the bans had been announced twice in
church. The case was resolved when Fuentes was jailed and was required to
declare in writing that he would marry Cayetana (Thiel, 1898, no. 117: 297). In
1728, in a similar case, Captain Cayetano de Herrera, citizen of Escazu, accused
Pedro Rojas of the same place of having seduced his daughter Petronilla. The
judge sentenced Rojas to a fine of 1oo pesos, one year of exile, and court costs
of 39.25 pesos (Thiel, 1898, no. 120: 341).

These crimes were punishable by prison and exile, and a few men did in fact
go to jail as a result of claims presented by women. In 1722, “Maria de la 0
Lobo, 16 years old, brought a suit for nonfulfillment of a marriage promise
against Franscisco Romero, 19 years, for having misled her with a promise of
marriage. Maria was placed under guardianship at the house of Sr. Mier Ce-
ballos. Franscisco Romero went into hiding but was found after two days and
put in jail. The judge brought the two face to face and Romero, after some
evasion, promised to marry Maria” (Thiel, 1898, no. 117: 298).

44 Com Ferro Calabrese and Ana Maria Quirés Rojas

Applications for divorce or annulment showed two different patterns for
women and men. Much to our surprise, women’s claims for divorce were
characterized by charges of violence or abuse—namely, mistreatment, adul-
tery, or the husband’s alcoholism. Reasons that supported applications filed by
men were that the woman was an illegitimate child or a domestic servant or
that she refused to live where he was living.

Most church proceedings recorded offenses against matrimony and the
ethics of marriage. In truth, though, the documents tell very little about the
frequency with which some of the offenses against matrimony mentioned by
contemporary historians were committed. The most frequent offenses were
adultery with women of mixed race and servants, incest, abduction, rape, or
abduction with rape. Nevertheless, the archives also document other types of
crimes, such as mistreatment, concubinage, abandonment, pregnancy, or pub-
lic slander by a husband.

Violence Against Women

In colonial Costa Rica, as in all patriarchal societies, a woman lived her life in
an environment that sanctioned violence against her. This violence pervaded
her marital life, was enacted in legislation, and was manifested in sexual or
physical mistreatment.  

Rape, abduction with rape, mistreatment, abandonment, pregnancy result-
ing from deception, and even homicide were common in colonial times. A
1724 document reports a case in which the daughter of Francisco Chaves was
seduced and raped by Esteban Chaves; three of his friends also raped and beat
her. In such cases, the courts usually confined the aggressor to jail until he
agreed to marry the victim, thereby causing further violence by forcing the
woman to marry her aggressor. In this particular case, however, guilt was not
proved and, as the young woman did not want to marry Esteban, her father
withdrew the accusation. Esteban was freed but was required to pay 16 pesos
for trial costs (Thiel, 1898, no. 118: 313).

Incest, adultery, and concubinage were other forms of sexual abuse, in
which, as a rule, the male came out ahead. In 1785, for example, a Heredia
priest had Maria del Rosario Molina beaten in his presence, claiming she
falsely accused her husband, Marcelo Herra, of incest with their daughter
(Blanco Segura, 1967: 254). The case of Felipe Arburola offers another illustra—.
tion: “He lived in concubinage with Dolores Campos, with whom he had had
three children. He wanted to put his life in order when he was widowed from
his legitimate wife. But at the time of filing for the matrimonial papers, Cam-

Women in Colonial Costa Rica 45

Contents

Acknowledgments ix

Ilse Abshagen Leitinger
Introduction. The Costa Rican Women’s Movement and Costa Rican
Feminism in the Early 1990s: Multiple, Dynamic, Action—Oriented Xi

I ° The Varying Faces of the Costa Rican Women’s Movement and
Costa Rican Feminism 1

1 ° Yadira Calvo Fajardo
Different Times, Women, Visions: The Deep Roots of Costa Rican
Feminism 5

2 ° Rosalia Camacho, Alda Facio Montejo, and Ligia Martin
The Group Ventana: An Assessment 13

3 ° Ana Carcedo, Montserrat Sagot, and Marta Trejos
Improving the Quality of Women’s Daily Lives: Costa Rica’s Centro
Feminista de Informacion y Accion 19

4 ° Ana Hernandez
The Alianza de Mujeres Costarricenses, a Popular Movement:
An Impassioned Plea for Action—Oriented Feminism 24

5 ° Carmen Naranjo Coto
Women’s Liberation from Servitude and Overprotection 29

II ° Making Women Visible in Costa Rican History 35

6 ° Cora Ferro Calabrese and Ana Maria Quiros Rojas
Women in Colonial Costa Rica: A Significant Presence 39

pos confessed she had had relations with a nephew of Arburola. The vicar
refused to give permission” for the marriage (Blanco Segura, 1967: 258).

The social group that gave authorities the most headaches however, was
composed of alcoholic women, prostitutes, and adulterous and incestuous
women. In the 17oos, the Capitania General de Guatemala condemned women
alcoholics to be “exposed to public shame for two hours on three consecutive
days,” and in 1791 an institution was founded for the purpose of confining such
women. (The algodén [cotton] that inmates were given to work with is the
source of the term algodonera [cotton mill], which even today is applied to the
women’s prison.) Crimes such as adultery, incest, and prostitution were often
given as reasons for arrest (AE, n.d., no. 37). Maria Porras, for example, owner
of a procurement house and “the original Costa Rican ‘Celestina’ [procuress] ,”
was condemned to exile in 1807 (Blanco Segura, 1967: 257).

Many women who were considered uncontrollable or deserving of punish-
ment were sent into exile or put under the guardianship of another person.
One place of exile was Boruca, near the Panamanian border, where some Tala-
manca Indian tribes were moved together with Cartago families, in 1705, to
begin a new village. One document in the archives stated: “It would be appro-
priate in the Lord’s service for women who because of their bad behavior
cannot be properly controlled here [in Cartago], that the governor of this
province order them expressly to pass their purgatory there” (Thiel, 1897, no.
112: 214). Other places of exile were Bagaces, near Nicaragua, and Matina, on
the Atlantic coast, where the women were put under guardianship of a respon-
sible person whom they had to serve. Reasons for punishment were always
“scandalous behavior,” “suspicious conduct,” or “bad life.” For instance, in
1725, Maria de la Portilla was put under guardianship because her reputation
had been damaged by scandals. She had accused Iosé Miguel Gonzalez, a
seventeen—year—old man, of seducing her and fathering her two children. Maria
de la Portilla was condemned to four years of exile in Bagaces, where she was
entrusted to a guardian for whom she had to work (Thiel, 1898, no. 118: 314).

When a woman was put under guardianship, she was confined to the house
of a person of good renown. In many cases, the reason a woman was put under
guardianship was that her parents would not permit a marriage. The woman’s
future husband would then request that the woman remain under guardian-
ship to ensure her faithfulness, and that the trustees deliver her to him when he
asked. In other cases, women were confined while complaints about scan-
dalous behavior were under investigation or marriage judgments were being
negotiated. In one such case, described in a 1723 document, “Iosé Gomez and

46 Com Ferro Calabrese and Ana Maria Quirés Rojas

Iosefa Nicolasa were accused of cohabitation. Iosefa Nicolasa was put under
guardianship and Jose Gomez was put behind bars. Since they did not want to
get married, Iose’ Gomez was sentenced to serve as watchman at the coast for
half pay and the other half of his pay was to be applied to the cost of the trial
and other church expenses. Iosefa Nicolasa received permission to help her
sick mother with the understanding that she would have to go into exile if
she left the house or committed other offenses” (Thiel, 1898, no. 118: 312). A
woman was expected to render absolute obedience to her guardian.

The treatment indigenous women received was particularly denigrating,
despite the fact that the government prohibited doctrineros from punishing
Indians. When an Indian woman married, the doctrinero required her to work
in his kitchen, arguing that he was performing a work of charity by giving her
the chance to learn. In fact, the true gain was on the part of the doctrinero,
who gained a house worker in addition to the 6 or 7 pesos he charged the cou-
ple for the wedding he performed. The abuse was so great that in 1675 the royal
inspector Don Benito de Novoa Salgado reported the practice to the king,
calling it deplorable and alluding to other sinful things done to Indian women,
which he did not dare to mention “in order not to offend Your Majesty’s ears”
(Fernandez, 1889: 274).

A 1715 document narrates the story of an orphaned Indian woman named
Dominga Liberada de Moya, a faithful parishioner of Ujarras. In disregard
of the law, Governor Lacayo de Briones had taken her from Ujarras and put
her under guardianship at the house of Sergeant Major Don Francisco de la
Madriz Linares. When an ecclesiastic judge requested her return, the governor
informed him that he would return her to Ujarras only to marry her off. When
he ordered a surgeon and a midwife to examine her, they both declared she was
too weak from general maltreatment to be married. Such documents reveal the
humiliations women suffered at the time (CD, 1985, no. 18: 49).

Not all pain was inflicted by strangers, however. Aggression within marriage
was common, as evidenced by the number of times women cited mistreatment
by their spouses as their reason for requesting a divorce. In many cases, women
and children were abandoned if the husband could produce evidence of a pre-
vious marriage or other information that could serve to annul the marriage.

Women and Social Status

Seventeen of the Metropolitan Curia documents relate to women and social
status. Most of them refer to women of a privileged class, within the frame-
work of a colonial society that was not prosperous but was markedly pa-

Women in Colonial Costa Rica 47

triarchal. Recovering information about the status of indigenous, mestizo,
black, or slave women is more difficult.

During the colonial period, women related to the Spanish Crown were
treated as if they were mythical figures. Celebrations of great solemnity hon-
ored such occasions as births, weddings of infantas, and pregnancies of the
queen. Some of these near—mythical figures became models of womanhood for
pious matrons of the upper class, who with their outstanding virtues coun-
teracted the alternative model of women whose scandalous lives were highly
visible—the “libertines and insolent ones,” the lovers or-protegées of governors
or captains.

However, these high—status women also show up in archival records of legal
controversies—altercations with priests, charges of slander or expropriation of
goods, or other offenses. Thus, Dona Manuela Fernandez de la Pastora, a lady
from Cartago, was excommunicated for having “slapped a priest” who ob-
structed her view of the bulls at a bullfight (Blanco Segura, 1967: 2o2—o3).

Domestic servants, slaves (most often mulatto or mestizo women), and
Indians comprised the lowest social status. Their only option for moving up
the social scale was marriage with masters or gentlemen or, in exceptional
cases, receiving a dowry from a cofradia. The oldest documentation of such a
marriage dates to 1720. It refers to the marriage of Diego de la Cruz, a mulatto,
widower, and mail courier between Costa Rica and Guatemala, and Iosefa
Cabral, a mulatto slave owned by a lady in the colonial capital of Cartago.
Women slave holders, like men slave holders, bought and sold their bondspeo—
ple. Slavery was institutionalized in Costa Rican society, and we can only
assume that the life of women slaves was particularly hard. A black slave
woman in the mid 1600s was sold for 280 pesos, “a little mulatto boy of a year
and a half for 150 pesos” (CD, 1986, no. 22: 24).

Servitude existed particularly in the doctrinas (missions), as “doctrineros
had to have in their service a cook, a tortilla maker, and a servant. The Indians
had to give them minimally 3o fanegas [a cubic measure] of corn per year, a
chicken every day, two reales [real=25 céntimos] of beef per week, and four
reales of cacao. For feast days they had to give two pounds of fish and one or
two reales of eggs and a botija [earthenware pitcher] of honey and another of
fat every six months” (Blanco Segura, 1967: 140). Obviously, all Indians suf-
fered grave exploitation, but Indian women even more so.

Some Indian women succeeded, though, in resisting colonial and religious
intolerance. Consider the case of the four picaronas zambas (a black-Indian
racial mix), the famous “Crafty Zambo Women,” who were kidnapped in 1761

48 Cora Ferro Calabrese and Ana Maria Quirés Rojas

and taken before the priest in Esparza. Although he interrogated them about
their people, he was unable to learn anything. He forced them to guide an
expedition to the Guatuso Indians, and for eleven days the four crafty women
led the priests astray, traveling on unknown paths without ever showing them
the location of their villages (Blanco Segura, 1967: 199-200).

Conclusion

The unedited documents in the Metropolitan Curia of San Jose contain infor-
mation that reveals the contours of the daily life of the women of colonial
Costa Rica. These documents illustrate the fusion of the three patriarchal sys-
tems of the Spanish crown, the Spanish Catholic Church, and the autochtho—
nous indigenous cultures. For these women, religion functioned as a weapon
of conquest.

Like the documents themselves, the women of colonial Costa Rica have
been quietly hidden from our View for a very long time. Now, however, the
archives are introducing us to many different types of women. Some were
active, enterprising, assertive, creative, and diligent in their enterprises. Others
were despised, offended, and submerged in an ignominious anonymity. Many
constantly rebelled against the yoke of patriarchal structures. One thing, how-
ever, is clear: In no way were they the demure and listless figures that com-
monly appear in illustrations of the time. They were strong, persevering, and
intelligent human beings.

The lives and economic activities of all these colonial women centered
around two great institutions, the church and matrimony, which controlled
not only the women themselves but also the cultural, economic, and political
development of their society. Much of the progress of this society seems to
have been based on the riches and the daily labor of their women, who often
were persuaded by their religious and familial beliefs to act against their own
best interests.

The events reported in the archives—the anecdotes and even the silences—
document violence against women. The very laws that were presumably dic-
tated by intentions to protect them resulted in aggression against women’s
dignity and rights and constituted an instrument of manipulation of women’s
consciences and aspirations. At the same time, however, the events recorded in
the archives show another facet of Costa Rican history. These records docu-
ment the contribution of women to colonial values and daily life and to the
struggles for justice and the construction of a more humane world.

Women in Colonial Costa Rica 49

Endnote

1. Ecclesiastic documents concerning colonial Costa Rica’s religious and political
affairs are kept in the Vatican; in Spain; in Leon, Nicaragua, the center of the arch-
diocese to which colonial Costa Rica belonged; and in Costa Rica itself. The San Jose
documents underlying this study, stored in thirty—eight large boxes, are still mostly
unexplored. Some were translated from the old Spanish by Bernardo Augusto Thiel,
bishop of Costa Rica from 1880-1901, and were published in 1896, 1897, and 1898.
Others were translated by historian Ricardo Blanco Segura and published in 1967.
Some were indexed by the Facultad de Filosofia y Letras (School of Philosophy and
Arts) of the Universidad Nacional in 1985-86.

Biodata

Cora Ferro Calabrese, born in Argentina and a naturalized Costa Rican, was one of the
principal founders and the first director of the Instituto de Estudios de la Muj er (IEM)
(Institute for Women’s Studies); formerly the Centro Interdisciplinario de Estudios de
la Mujer (CIEM) (Center for Interdisciplinary Women’s Studies) at the Universidad
Nacional (UNA) where she has been deputy director since mid—1993. Her academic
work focuses on women’s studies, ranging from comprehensive research to participa-
tory work with women’s groups. She was coordinator for the Comision Nacional de
Esperanza Solidaria (National Commission of Solidary Hope), an interdenomina-
tional organization which supported the work of the Consejo Latinoamericano de
Iglesias (Latin American Council of Churches) on social service projects.

At IEM she participated in developing the Casa de la Mujer (Women’s House) for
outreach to women in the community, and in creating the journal Casa de la Mujer.
She serves on its editorial board and as a contributor. She also wrote “Mujeres indias
hacen teologia” (Indian women do theology), which appeared in July 1994 in that
journal, and “Mujeres en la Colonia. Entre la Vida y la ley” (Women in the colony.
Between life and law), which appeared in the Revista de Ciencias Sociales of the Instituto
de Ciencias Sociales of the UCR. At the Congress on Women and Violence held in San
lose in 1993, she presented the study “La cara oculta de la crisis” (The hidden face of
the crisis).

With Ana Maria Quiros Rojas, Ferro published Mujer, realidad religiosa y comzmica—
cio’n (Women, religious reality, and communication—originally published in 1988,
second revised edition in 1993); and “Derechas y humanas: Confrontando un mito
impostor” (Upright and human: Women face a deceitful myth), Casa de la Mujer 4
(December 1993).

Ana Maria Quiros Rojas, also a Costa Rican, has worked as coauthor with Cora
Ferro on research for numerous publications and is currently completing her Ph.D in
education with a dissertation on adult education and women. She has worked in
consciousness raising and education among working-class women and is associated
with the extension service for research of the Universidad Nacional, as well as in the
Proyecto EduMujer (Women’s Education Project), training women in technical high
schools throughout the entire country in nontraditional occupations, under the joint

50 Cora Ferro Calabrese and Ana Maria Quirés Rojas

sponsorship of the Costa Rican Ministerio de Educacion Publica (MEP) (Ministry of
Education) and the Organizacién Internacional de Trabajo (OIT) (International Labor
Organization). She is a member of the Red Latinoamericana de Mujeres (Latin Ameri-
can W0men’s Network), a regionwide information exchange organization connecting
individual women.

References

Archivo Eclesiastico (AE). n.d. Cajas nos. 1-38. San Jose: Curia Metropolitana.

Blanco Segura, Ricardo. 1967. Historia eclesiastica de Costa Rica. San Jose: Editorial
Costa Rica.

Centro de Documentacion de la Facultad de Filosofia y Letras (CD). 1985, 1988. Boletin,
nos. 18, 22, 23, and unedited. Heredia: Universidad Nacional.

Dussel, Enrique. 1983. Historia general cle la iglesia en América Latina. Pt. 1, vol. 1.
Salamanca: Sigueme.
Fernandez, Leon. 1889. Historia de Costa Rica durante la dominacion espafiola 1502-
1821. Madrid: Tipografia de Manuel Ginés Hernandez, Impresa de la Casa Real.
Ferro, Cora, and Ana Maria Quiros. 1992. “Mujeres en la colonia. La historia leida
desde la perspectiva de las mujeres.” Mimeo. Heredia: IEM.

MacLeod, Murdo. 1973. Spanish Central America. A Socioeconomical History, 1520-1720.
Berkeley: University of California Press. Trans. Luis Guillermo Solis, 1980.

Monge Alfaro, Carlos. 1976. Historia de Costa Rica. 14th ed. San Iosé: Libr. Trejos.

Thiel, Bernardo Augusto. 1896, 1897, 1898. “Datos cronologicos para la historia eclesias-
tica de Costa Rica.” El mensajero del clero [San ]osé] 9 (1896; nos. 99-100); 10 (1897;
nos. 102, 104, 105-07, 109, and 112); 11 (1898; nos. 117——20).

Women in Colonial Costa Rica 51

7 % Contradictory Aspects
of Costa Rican Women’s History
During the Nineteenth Century

Clotilde Obregén Quesada

In Costa Rica, as in many parts of the world, the role women played and the
varied contributions they made to the nation’s development during the nine-
teenth century have gone relatively unnoticed. However, the Costa Rican Ar-
chivo Nacional in San Jose contains extensive documentation that opens a
window allowing a look at women’s activities.

After briefly introducing the reader to nineteenth-century Costa Rica, I
will show that although women’s legal status was declining, their educational
and economic activities were not only considerable but were even improving
toward the end of the nineteenth century. Of course, the archives reflect a
limited sample; they record primarily the activities of women who owned or
were associated with certain resources. It is worth keeping in mind, though,
that nineteenth-century Costa Rica was both relatively homogeneous and ba-
sically poor.

Historical Circumstances of Costa Rican Society

To understand women’s role in Costa Rica, one must understand that Costa
Rica differed from other Latin American regions. Toward the end of the eigh-
teenth century, Costa Rica was characterized by relative political autonomy
because of three factors: its distance from power centers; a small population, so
that the society lacked an adequate labor force; and few cities. Farm people did
not begin to move into towns in Costa Rica until the eighteenth century, when
three new towns appeared in the western Valle Central (Central Valley) (Obre—
gon Q., 1989: 179). During that time, civil and ecclesiastic authorities in the
colonial capital of Cartago had encouraged the inhabitants of the Aserri region
to concentrate in towns, to facilitate government services. In response, the
people of Aserri founded the Villa de Bocas del Monte, under the protection

52

of the patriarch of San Iosé, today’s capital. Though the decision had been
imposed by outsiders, they began to take advantage of the unity town life
brought, and they soon aspired to power and leadership in the province of
Costa Rica.

Besides their unity of purpose, the Iosefinos—the citizens of San ]osé—had
the economic resources to achieve their goal. They cultivated sugar cane and
grains, and they traded cattle with the Pacific coast region of Esparza, Las
Cafias, and Bagaces. That area was part of the district of Nicoya, which was
administratively connected to Nicaragua. However, it earlier had been Costa

‘Rican, and the cattle trade and tobacco cultivation kept it closely tied to Costa

Rica. After 1805, tobacco cultivation depended upon the tobacco warehouse in
San Jose (ANCR, no. 496). The economic ties would result in the annexation
of the Nicoya district by Costa Rica on July 25, 1824 (Sibaja, 1978).

In 1821, Costa Rica became independent. Those who pushed for indepen-
dence worked out an interim pact, the Pacto Social Interino del Estado de
Costa Rica (Interim Social Pact of the State of Costa Rica), which was a system
of governance that retained the Spanish constitution and legal codes. The
country thereby began the new age in a constitutional setting. The inhabitants
of San Jose took on the leadership in working out the Pacto Social, and in 1823
San Jose replaced Cartago as the capital (Obregon L., 1969).

In 1824, Costa Rica became part of the Republica de Centro America but
remained autonomous and sovereign within that federation, as established by
the 1825 Constitution of Costa Rica. Shortly thereafter, in 1827, in an early
Costa Rican initiative in the Central American peace process, the Costa Rican
government sent a peace mission to El Salvador. It also established the admin-
istrative institutions and practices of a constitutional government, which it
would retain (Obregon L., 1974). Moreover, this period marked the beginning
of coffee cultivation, through which Costa Rica established markets in Europe
and the United States (Obregon Q., 1982).

The Federal Republic of Central America broke apart in 1838, and efforts to
reestablish it failed. A difficult period in international relations followed. Costa
Rica’s strategic position on an isthmus between the world’s major oceans,
where canal construction was feasible, became a constant factor in its political
and economic affairs. In the border region with Nicaragua along Lake Nic-
aragua and the San Juan River, Great Britain, the leading power of the time in
the Caribbean and Central American region, faced a newly arising rival, the
United States.

After 1854, aggressive U.S. policies provoked war. In 1856-57 Costa Rica

Women’s History During the Nineteenth Century 53

faced the invading army of William Walker, who controlled Nicaragua and
wanted to convert Central America into a territory with slavery, as a key port
for international trade through an interoceanic canal. Costa Rica destroyed
Walker’s army at Santa Rosa in the Pacific Northwest and, in a beautifully
executed maneuver, gained control of the San Juan River and its fortifications.
Walker could no longer receive men and arms from the United States, even
though the U.S. government had ignored Central American complaints and
closed its eyes to shipments from New York and New Orleans in support of
Walker (Obregon L., 1956).

Costa Rica’s triumph saved the country but left it economically in ruins.
The United States demanded damages for supposed destruction of U.S. prop-
erties. The payments were unfair: Costa Rica had not been the aggressor, it had
merely defended itself. However, the obligation to pay reflected the new U.S.—
British alliance in the Caribbean. The British would not oppose the United
States, provided the latter fulfilled the conditions of the 1850 Clayton—Bulwer
Treaty, which allowed Great Britain’s presence on the Central American main-
land. Thus, when in 1859 Belize became a British colony, which violated the
Monroe doctrine, the fact was widely hailed in both countries (Rodriguez,
1964).

As a result of the war, Costa Rican plans for schools for males and females,
for a university, and for an increase in musical education were partially para-
lyzed. The country could not return to these plans until the 1860s and after,
when it founded several institutions. In the meantime, Costa Rica strength-
ened its political parties and the electoral system and modernized public ser-
vices of water and electricity. In 1884, San Jose became the second city in the
Americas to have electric lights. (Boston was the first.) In the 1870s, Costa Rica
also built a railway to the Atlantic (Stone, 1976).

Meanwhile, economic dependence upon monoculture grew with the exten-
sion of banana plantations at the Atlantic coast. Early in the twentieth century,
bananas, which originally had been a complementary crop, would compete
with coffee as Costa Rica’s principal export product.

Against this background of the political and economic development of
Costa Rica in the nineteenth century let us now picture the contradictory
aspects of Women’s lives.

The Deterioration of Women’s Legal Situation

To a certain extent, studying the lives of nineteenth-century women is easy in  

Costa Rica because women retained their maiden name in marriage and, from

54 Clotilde Obregén Quesada

the eighteenth century on, children carried both their mother’s last name and
their father’s. This custom has permitted Latin American women to retain
their identity and to avoid the trauma of being legally obligated to use the
husband’s name.

Moreover, along with the rest of Spanish America, Costa Rica inherited
Spanish laws that clearly established women’s dowry and inheritance, and their
right to represent their husbands and to emancipate their children (i.e., to
declare them legally of age). In fact, early Costa Rican laws protected women
and allowed them to defend themselves, though they did not give them politi-
cal equality. Thus, in the early 18oos we still find such cases as that of Concep-
cion Palacios, who was authorized to manage the family’s possessions because
of her husband’s bad behavior and despite his unsuccessful protests. Her hus-
band had legally pledged the following: “Don Luis Castillo obligates himself to
his wife, Dofia Concepcion Palacios, not to drink any more, and should he fail
to live up to this commitment, gives her the right to divorce him or separate
herself from him, for a time as may be convenient to her. He obligates himself
in addition to help her with what he earns and not to give her any reason to
suspect infidelity” (IPSI, 1, 1750-1835).

As the nineteenth century progressed, however, French laws penetrated
Latin America (Saenz C., 1987); liberal politicians introduced the changes in
their search for highly respected European “progress.” One consequence of the
change was that women lost their status, above all in family law. Toward the
end of the century, women could, for example, be accused of infidelity and
punished by being sent to prison, whereas husbands could be unfaithful for a
period of up to a year before a woman could sue. Women’s inequality grew in
the 1880s but was hidden behind their relative equality in education. Despite
women’s advances in education, the legal status of Costa Rican women during
the nineteenth century experienced a downward trend.

Advances in Women’s Education

As the Iosefinos prospered economically, they invested in education, hiring
teachers to educate their children. With education came change, and it affected
the position of women. In the still somewhat rural setting, distant from the
urban customs of Cartago, San Jose women acted in less traditional ways. For
example, they went out alone with young men, sitting behind the riders on
their horses, something that seemed inappropriate to many foreign travelers
who later visited the country (Marr, 1929). This and other customs would
change during the nineteenth century.

Women’s History During the Nineteenth Century 55

vi

7 ° Clotilde Obregén Quesada
Contradictory Aspects of Costa Rican Women’s History During the
Nineteenth Century 52

8 ° Sara Sharratt
The Suffragist Movement in Costa Rica, 1889-1949: Centennial
of Democracy? 61

9 ° Ana Isabel Garnboa Hernandez and Sara Garfinkiel Hermann
Unusual Costa Rican Women: Three Who Were Proclaimed
“Distinguished Citizens of the Nation” 84

10 ° Zaira Escamilla Gutiérrez and Lorena Vargas Mora
Peasant Women’s Autobiographies: Women’s Double Contribution
to the Rural Economy 89

III ° The Quest for Women’s Equality 99

11 ° Tatiana Soto Cabrera

The Law and Women’s Lives: Contradictions and Struggles 1o3
12 ° Aixa Ansorena Montero

Negotiating Women’s Legal Equality: Four Versions of a Law 111

13 ° Ana Elena Badilla Gémez
Leading Arguments Against Women’s Legal Equality: Highlights
of a National Debate 119

14 ° Alda Facio Montejo

Redefining Political Equality: More Than Including Women 127

IV ° Women Suffering Discrimination 137

15 ° Eugenia Lépez—Casas
Women Heads of Household in Costa Rica’s Limon Province:
The Effects of Class Modified by Race and Gender 141

16 ° Paquita Cruz

The Lesbian Feminist Group Las Entendidas 147

Contents

Educational development in Costa Rica began with the founding of La Casa
de Ensefianza de Santo Tomas (Santo Tomas high school), a secondary school
that had been maintained since 1814 by private citizens in San Jose. In 1824, the
first chief of state, Juan Mora Fernandez, a teacher, made Santo Tomas a
government—supported school. Both Santo Tomas secondary school and the
Universidad de Santo Tomas (founded in 1843) educated only men; neverthe-
less, as men’s education changed, so did the education of women (Gonzalez V.,
1989). In fact, women in Costa Rica advanced more than women in other Latin
American countries. a

At first, women’s education was in the hands of private teachers, who were
paid by the parents. Hence the educational level of the parent generation in
part determined the decision to educate the child. After 1831, the state began to
take an interest in women’s education. In 1841, the government of Braulio
Carrillo founded the first girls’ high school, the Liceo de Nifias. Under Vicenta
Baltodano’s directorship, this girls’ high school provided basic education in
reading, writing, drawing, sewing, and embroidery. Parents insisted that an
adult accompany the girls to the school, which was located next to the Santo
Tomas university. It is interesting to note that the salaries of the director of the
boys’ school and of the directora of the girls’ school were the same (Obregon
Q.,1989).  

The girls’ high school received a warm reception from San Iosé parents. It
also awakened the desire for a morecomplete education for girls. In 1847,
President Jose Maria Castro founded by decree an academically more am-
bitious girls’ high school, which would teach reading, writing, accounting,
religion, morals and virtue, urbanity, geography and history, world and natu-
ral history, physics, music, drawing, Spanish, French, and Italian. This new
school functioned for a number of years, and during that time newspapers
reported on the teaching and the speeches the young women gave at gradua-
tion. Education for women reached other cities, too; schools were established
in Alajuela, Cartago, and Heredia during this period (Obregon Q., 1984).

A bill prepared by President Castro to expand primary education became
law in 1869 under his successor, the physician Jesus Iiménez. The state declared
primary education free and obligatory. This further widened educational op-
portunities for girls, even though their education still took place in private
schools in the more important cities, at least until the 1885-86 Educational
Reform. This reform brought a graded kindergarten-to—secondary—school ed-
ucational system, with established curricula, and local education councils tak-
ing care of school buildings (Gonzalez F., 1961).

More and more girls gained access to education. Rural communities estab-

56 Clotilde Obregén Quesada

lished escuelas mixtas, public coeducational primary schools, obtained teach-
ing materials from school supply stores, and created school libraries. The
Colegio Superior de Sefioritas, a girls’ high school, was founded and included a
normal school (i.e., a teacher-training program). This offered women the op-
portunity of acquiring a secondary education and becoming teachers. More-
over, a private secondary school, the Colegio de Nuestra Sefiora de Sion,
existed, as well as numerous schools that taught young women music, lan-
guages, and painting. Thus, in terms of education, women advanced during
the nineteenth century (Pacheco, 1971).

Women’s Economic Activities

Women’s economic activities in the nineteenth century were varied and more
important than has generally been acknowledged. Early in the century, five
women owned cattle ranches in the zones of Esparza, Las Cafias, and Bagaces.
Among them was Filiberta Recio, who in 1810 still managed her ranch at the
age of ninety—fiVe (ANCR, no. 1390). In the Central Valley, women took an
interest in agriculture, buying and selling coffee plantations or purchasing land
from the government for growing coffee.

The women engaged in these activities belonged to the upper social strata;
they had to plant coffee and cultivate it for five years before it produced any
income. The 1848 list of coffee plantation owners shows that some were wid-
ows who, after their husbands’ death, continued at the helm of coffee planta-
tions that belonged to them either through dowry or inheritance from their
husbands. Four such women were Dolores Oreamuno, Ana Maria Porras,
Ieronima Fernandez, and Jacinta Morales (IPSI, 1, 1750-1835). Others were
single or married women who owned capital, such as the Arlequi sisters,
Feliciana Saenz Ulloa, Maria Echavarria, Pilar Bonilla Navas, Ioaquina V. Ca-
rrillo Valverde, Rafaela Carrillo Morales, and Trinidad Gutierrez Pefiamonge
(IPSI, 1, 1750-1835).

The capacity to manage their own capital allowed some women to form a
true economic partnership with their husbands, with equal administrative
functions and rights. Some partnerships comprised various economic activi-
ties. That of Camilo Mora and Ana Benito Porras handled real estate transac-
tions and money lending; Nicolas Castro and Juana Ramirez were active in real
estate transactions and cattle raising. Pilar Bonilla Navas maintained her eco-
nomic activities separately from those of her husband, Manuel Mora F., as did
Ieronima Fernandez, who managed her own haciendas for decades until her
death (IPSI, 2, 1835-50).

Women’s History During the Nineteenth Century 57

Women also entered the tobacco and liquor business. The production and
sale of liquor and tobacco had been state monopolies under the Spanish gov-
ernment, a practice the Costa Rican government continued. Licenses were sold
at public auction, and many women, represented by men, obtained liquor and
tobacco licenses. Women of well—known families often entered business to
solve economic problems; Ana Fernandez, for example, ran a tobacco store in
San Jose after her father’s death (IPSI, 1, 175o-1835).

Numerous women are recorded in activities related to state-licensed liquor
stores from the first decade of the century on. They participated in auctions
throughout the country, from Guanacaste along the Pacific coast to the Central
Valley. Their activity became important after the war against Walker’s Filibus—
ters in 1856-57. The returning troops brought with them a devastating cholera
epidemic, in which more than six thousand people died——1o percent of the
total population. Women whose husbands were in the war, or who had been
widowed or had lost their fathers, took over the liquor stores the male family
head had managed. In 1860, 75 out of 126 (nearly 60%) of the state-licensed
liquor stores were in women’s hands. A report requested by the general super-
intendent during the war stated the administrators had not made any mis-
takes, that “even the widows did very well” (Kierszenzon, 1983: 92). So did
women who authorized sons or other relatives to participate in auctions for
tobacco or liquor licenses or who claimed their inheritance or took over when
their mothers married a second time. Some, like Rosario Fernandez, became
guardians of a husband who had been declared mentally incapacitated (IPSJ, 1,
1750-1835).

Still other women were traders during this period. An interesting case is
that of Andrea Venegas of Puntarenas; she managed a liquor store, owned a
department store, and in 1845 imported flour, plums, and raisins from Liver-
pool. Some women had stores in the Central Valley. Records of these women
still exist because then, as now, owners had to pay fees to the municipality
(ANCR, GM, no. 10971). Others catered for banquets, or prepared cakes for
festivities or table decorations for important occasions, such as the banquets
offered to the victorious troops of the 1856-57 war (Kierszenzon, 1983).

Conclusion

Although this account considers only women’s legal status, education, and
economic activities in the nineteenth century, we can draw some conclusions.
First, documents do exist for reconstructing women’s history. Furthermore, it
is clear that “progressive” French legal patterns caused women to lose status,

58 Clotilde Obregén Quesada

power over their own affairs, and protection during the nineteenth century.
However, efforts to improve women’s education grew, particularly after the
1856-57 war. In fact, women’s education after 1888 would have permitted them
active participation in the country’s development, if they had had legal equal-
ity. Nonetheless, it at least provided a base for women’s success in education in
the twentieth century, when as members of the Educators’ Association they
would demonstrate publicly for their political rights. Finally, Costa Rican
women’s actions during war did not differ from those of women in other
countries. In men’s absence, women were responsible heads of family, both
morally and economically.

In sum, the nineteenth century gave Costa Rican women advances and
professional opportunities in education and a notable participation in eco-
nomic activities. But it also was a time of decline in their legal status, when they
had little if any political power. Obtaining at least the basic rights of citizenship
would have to wait until the middle of the following century.

Biodata

Clotilde Obregon Quesada, a Costa Rican, holds a master’s degree in history from the
Universidad de Costa Rica. Her research focuses on Costa Rica and Central America.
She has published numerous articles and three books: Costa Rica: Relaciones exteriores
de una repablica en formacion (1984), Carrillo, una época y an hombre (1989), and El Rio
San Iuan en la lucha de las potencias, 1821-1860 (1993). Her study on Carrillo won the
Aquileo I. Echevarria National History Prize in 1989. She also received the Cleto Gonza-
lez Viquez Award in History, bestowed by the Academia de Geografia e Historia de
Costa Rica (Costa Rican Academy of Geography and History). In 1989-91 she chaired
the History Department at the Universidad de Costa Rica. From 1990 to 1992 she was
president of the administrative council of the Museo Nacional de Costa Rica (National
Museum of Costa Rica) and is currently director of the Biblioteca Nacional (National
Library) in Costa Rica.

References

Archivo Nacional de Costa Rica (ANCR). San Jose. Document nos. 496, 1390.

——. Guerra y Marina (GM). Document no. 10971.

Gonzalez Flores, Luis Felipe. 1961. Historia de la educacién en Costa Rica. Vol. 2. San
Jose: Ministerio de Educacion Publica.

Gonzalez Villalobos, Paulino. 1989. La Universidad de Santa Tomas. San Jose: Editorial
Universidad de Costa Rica.

Indice de los Protocolos de San Jose (IPSI). Vols. 1 (1750-1835) and 2 (1835-50).

Kierszenzon, Frida. 1983. “El monopolio de licores en Costa Rica.” Tesis de Grado,
Universidad de Costa Rica.

Marr, Wilhelm. 1929. “Viaje a Centro America.” In Costa Rica en el siglo XIX, ed.
Ricardo Fernandez Guardia, pp. 103-220. San Jose: Editorial Gutenberg.

Women’s History During the Nineteenth Century 59

Obregon Loria, Rafael. 1956. La campafia del transito. San Iosé: Editorial Universidad de
Costa Rica.

——. 1969. Nuestra historia patria. Los primeros dias de Independencia. San Jose: Edi-
torial Universidad de Costa Rica.

—. 1974. Costa Rica en la federacién. San Jose: Editorial Costa Rica.

Obregon Quesada, Clotilde. 1982. “Inicio del comercio britanico en Costa Rica.” Re-
vista de ciencias sociales, 24 (October): 59-69.

——. 1984. Relaciones exteriores de una repablica en formacion. San Jose: Editorial Costa
Rica.

——. 1989. Carrillo, una época y an hombre. San Jose: Editorial Costa Rica.

——. 1993. El Rio San Iuan en la lucha de las potencias. San Jose: Editorial UNED.

Pacheco, Leon. 1971. Mauro Fernandez. San Jose: Ministerio de Cultura, Juventud y
Deportes.

Rodriguez, Mario. 1964. A Palmerstonian Diplomat in Central America: Frederick Chat-
field. Tucson, Ariz.: The University of Arizona Press.

Saenz Carbonell, Iorge. 1987. El despertar constitucional de Costa Rica. San Iosé: Edi-
torial Libro Libre.

Sibaja, Luis Fernando. 1978. Nuestro limite con Nicaragua. San Jose: Editorial Don
Bosco.

Stone, Samuel. 1976. La dinastia de los conquistadores. San Jose: Editorial Universitaria
Centroamericana.

60 Clotilde Obregon Quesada

8 3% The Suffragist Movement
in Costa Rica, 1889-1949

Centennial of Democracy?

Sara Sharratt

On November 7, 1989, Costa Rica celebrated the Centennial of Democracy,
commemorating an 1889 uprising of citizens against the threat of fraudulent
elections. Jose’ Ioaquin Trejos, president of Costa Rica (1966-70), called the
1889 uprising a demonstration of “citizens,  mostly campesinos, who gath-
ered . . . carrying sticks and machetes, firm in their insistence that the will of
thepeople be respected” (Trejos, 1989: 15a). The 1889 demonstration produced
results: The outgoing president promised free elections, and the clearly favored
candidate easily won the election.

Trejos supported this 1989 commemoration but strongly protested the no-
tion that it signaled the birth of Costa Rican democracy. I agree, but for
different reasons: Proclaiming 1989 as a centennial obscures the fact that by
that year women had had the right to vote for only forty years. It also fails to
consider the role women played in the fight for democracy and their struggle
for women’s political rights. Moreover, between independence in 1821 and
women’s enfranchisement in 1949, Costa Rica experienced periods of dictato-
rial rule and fraudulent elections, and not even men themselves were all equal.

These facts then beg the question of what our patriarchs call democratic
rule. For sixty of the hundred years in the supposed centennial, women were
not even considered citizens, as historian Fernando Volio confirmed when he
proclaimed proudly: “For a long time, the right to vote, the right to political
representation and to the practice of liberal theory have been inherent at-
tributes of each one of our citizens who identify the above with the democracy
which places us among civilized nations” (cited in Viquez, 1978: 13; emphasis
added; the word ciudadcmos, translated here as “citizens” is inherently mas-
culine but neither explicitly includes nor represents women).

This study explores the unique characteristics of the suffragist movement

61

and its strategic struggle. Its intent is to dispel widely believed myths that
women in Costa Rica were handed the vote on a silver platter. The study
documents sixty years of courageous efforts by which women and a few sym-
pathetic male supporters finally won for women the right to vote. While
struggling for their political rights, women endured the contempt and ridicule
of conservative and liberal patriarchs. Nevertheless, during those sixty years,
women were deeply involved in all large grassroots movements aimed at pre-

serving so—called democratic processes or ending wage discrimination against  

women teachers.

Women Under Costa Rican Patriarchy

To understand women’s struggle during this period, one must first understand
how three dominant institutions jointly and separately enforced and rational-
ized women’s lack of political rights. Those institutions are the legal system,
represented by all Costa Rican constitutions from 1821 to 1949; the educational
system; and the Catholic Church.

Women and the Constitutions

Costa Rican democracy is a product of evolutionary change in the rules of
political participation after independence. Between 1821 and 1949, eighteen
different Costa Rican constitutional documents were drawn up, partly as a
result of internal political unrest as one government replaced another.

Costa Rica was granted independence from Spain on September 15, 1821, a
fact Costa Ricans did not learn until October 12, 1821. As the poorest, most
isolatediprovince in its region, Costa Rica had remained untarnished by politi-
cal struggles. Indeed, its existence had been “duly ignored” by the empire,
probably because its “wealth consisted of some cacao for domestic use which
also served as currency, and tobacco of very poor quality which constituted, at
times, the only export product” (Viquez, 1978: 20-21).

In the beginning, independence produced internal strife. Except for a brief
period in which Costa Rica was part of a regional federation, the Republica
Federal de Centro América (Federal Republic of Central America), it remained
unaligned, seeking potential alliances with other provinces in the region. Not
until 1848 did Costa Rica become a fiilly independent republic (Viquez, 1978:
95). Between 1824 and 1890, twenty-five governments held power. Seven took it
by force, six were interim governments, and eleven were elected in uncontested
elections. Only one made it to power with a campaign deserving the name of a
true political battle (Vega, 1982: 90).

62 Sara Sharratt

In its attempt to define the people who would be eligible to elect govern-
ments, Costa Rica at first chose indirect voting; electors would be selected-
using criteria of personal wealth, morals, and education—by means of succes-
sive popular balloting based on territorial voting districts. This process re-
quired several stages, which invited corruption, intimidation, and fraud. Indi-
rect voting was practiced until 1913, except for one direct election in 1844 (Vega,
1982: 88).

During this period, “democracy,” exemplified by the right to vote and to be
elected to office, was the domain of the male oligarchy. Costa Rican patriarchal
thinking prevalent throughout most of this time is best assessed by viewing
constitutional documents in terms of the way they defined three important
terms: Costa Rican, citizen, and voting citizen (CA, 1946).

Before 1848, a critical distinction was made in constitutional documents
between a citizen and a voting citizen. Voting citizens were defined in 1824 as all
inhabitants, native born or naturalized, who were eighteen years of age, had an
honest job or profession, and could exercise their rights (i.e., were not mentally
incompetent or criminals) (CA, 1946). Note that this definition does not ex-
clude women. (Even though women did not vote until 1950, they were not ex-
plicitly denied the right to vote until 1848; that right was again denied in 1917.)

By 1841, a voting citizen had to be twenty—one years old (twenty, if an
educator or head of household); own a house and have property, capital, or an
“industry”; and be self—supporting. To be elected to office, a voting citizen had
to own a certain amount of capital; the amount Varied with the importance of
the office (CA, 1946: 90-93). Clearly, women were not the only Costa Ricans
excluded by these criteria; uneducated or poor men could not be voting cit-
izens either. As Jose Luis Vega (1982: 91) noted, these requirements left out
about 80 to 90 percent of all citizens during the nineteenth century.

To illustrate: As late as 1884, the illiteracy rate in Costa Rica was 87 percent
(Fallas and Silva, 1985: 114). By 1892, it was 80 percent in the country and 61
percent in the capital and main centers of provinces (Vega, 1982: 92). The 1927
census showed a total population of 471,524, of whom 47.3 percent were literate
individuals above the age of nine. An additional 1 percent was semiliterate, and
23.6 percent were illiterate (Barahona, 1986, Annex 2: 52). The remaining 28.1
percent were under age nine. These figures make it clear that a significant
number of poor males could not act in agreement with their “inherent attri-
bute”—maleness—and exercise their citizenship. Consistent with prior prac-
tices, potential elected officials had to have a certain amount of capital to be
elected to office.

In 1848, women were explicitly excluded from voting when a citizen was

The Suflragist Movement, 1889-1949 63

defined as a male, age twenty—one or over. This criterion was in force until 1859,
when the word male was deleted and the voting age was lowered to twenty. The
constitutions of 1859, 1869, and 1871 were identical on this point. To be a voting
citizen, a person had to own property or have an honest job and had to know
how to read and write. Only patriarchal interpretation decided that women
were excluded from the above definition. The 1917 Constitution, twenty-eight
years into our celebrated century of democratic rule, specifically excluded
women, for the second time, from the definition of citizen and thus of Voting
citizen. In 1919 the 1917 Constitution was revoked, and the 1871 Constitution
reestablished previous criteria for citizen and voting citizen, which were in
force until 1949.

Of course, the right to vote was only one of many expressions of the pa-
triarchal nature of Costa Rican society which considered women incompetent
and in need of protection. In 1841, for example, a man’s citizenship could be
suspended if he abandoned his wife and children or failed to live up to his
responsibilities toward them (CA, 1946: 91). Variations on this theme were
maintained in 1847 and 1848; in 1869, however, it became a crime if a male was
ungrateful to his parents, but not if he deserted his wife and children. Then by
1871, in addition to explicitly limiting women’s political rights, Costa Rican
patriarchs also eliminated sanctions against husbands’ and fathers’ irresponsi-
ble behavior, thus stripping women of the power to redress grievances. The
situation became absurd in the 1917 Constitution, which required that if a
foreign—born woman gave birth to an illegitimate child and the Costa Rican
father of the child refused to acknowledge paternity, the mother would have to
abandon the infant so that he or she could become a Costa Rican citizen (CA,
1946: 235).

Similarly, a Costa Rican woman who married a foreigner automatically
became a citizen of the husband’s country and lost her Costa Rican citizenship.
She could remain Costa Rican only if she “was unable to receive her husband’s
citizenship” (CA, 1946: 233). Even today, a wife cannot grant her husband the
right of citizenship, although a Costa Rican man can grant this right to a
woman. This discriminatory clause (dating from 1841) constituted one of the
arguments against granting women the right to vote, and it was taken as evi-
dence that the patriarchs saw women as subordinate to men. Nobody ever sug-
gested declaring this criterion unconstitutional, even though all Costa Rican
constitutions since 1825 have claimed that “all Costa Ricans are equal under the
law” (CA, 1946: 53). Cleto Gonzalez Viquez, a leading liberal and twice-elected
president of Costa Rica in the twentieth century, commented that voting was

64 Sam Sharratt

restricted only “by age, marital status, personal wealth, private and public
morality” (Viquez, 1978: 75). And gender? It did not even occur to him to
consider gender, nor did it occur to other liberals of his time.

As women lobbied and struggled for the vote, they assumed their civil rights
were the same as those held by men. This was not the case, and it still is not,
especially for married women. Under the 1844 Civil Code, for example, a
married woman could not exercise the patria potestad (right of parental au-
thority). After 1888, she could exercise it only when her husband was absent
(Odio, 1989). In 1888, civil marriages and divorce proceedings were first in-
stituted, as well as a woman’s right to make a will and to enjoy identical civil
rights (Fallas and Silva, 1985: 152-53). In 1888, women were also granted the
right of tutela (guardianship). Yet, the male remained the head of the house-
hold, and a wife could not leave the country or sign contractual agreements
without her husband’s consent. These restrictions did not apply to single
women. Thus, when a woman married, she lost her ability to make legally
binding decisions. As Elizabeth Odio, twice minister of justice (1978—82, 1992-
94), has stated, “The law treated married women as mental incompetents”
(1989). Only in 1973 did the new Family Code——which came into force in 1974—
establish near—equality of civil and political rights for women independent of
marital status.

Given this context, it is not surprising that women were barred from profes-
sional roles. Angela Acufia, Costa Rica’s first woman lawyer and later a leading
suffragist, had to appeal to the Legislative Assembly in 1916 for her right to
exercise her profession; women of that time could not act as witnesses in legal
documents or wills (Calvo, 1989a: 8o—81). Acufia argued that acts such as
being a witness constituted civil and not political rights. After endless debates,
Acuf1a’s request to practice as a lawyer was approved, but her petition to be a
notary was denied. (All lawyers are notaries in Costa Rica, and until recently
there was no feminine form of notario [notary public] .) The role of notary was
considered the exclusive right of a Voting citizen, and women were not voting
citizens. The clause that a notary had to be a voting citizen was finally removed
in 1922.

The position of women in Costa Rica was underscored by their absence
from the committees appointed for the celebration of the Centennial of Inde-
pendence in 1921. The patriarchs did not nominate even one woman to the
organizing committee. Angela Acufia, already well on her way to becoming the
leader of the suffragist struggle, suggested the formation of a National Con-
gress on Women,but that motion, too, was defeated (Calvo, 1989a: 97). It

The Suflragist Movement, 1889-1949 65

17 ' Paula Antezana Rimassa
Women with Disabilities: Between Sexism and Handicappism 153

18 ° Ana Carceclo
Never to Cry Alone Again: Women and Violence in Costa Rica 160

19 ° Gioconda Batres Méndez
Father-Daughter Incest: Case Studies in Costa Rica 170

V ° Women’s Organizations and Organizations Working with
Women 181

20 ° Iessica Brown, Cynthia K. Green, Linda Pearl, and Vilma Pérez
Peace Corps Volunteers See Working-Class  Women’s Realities 185

21 ° Mireya Iiménez Guerra
Women as Leaders in the Costa Rican Cooperative Movement 192

22 ° Montserrat Sagot
The Struggle for Housing in Costa Rica: The Transformation of
Women into Political Actors 198

23 ° Ilse Abshagen Leitinger
Long—Term Survival of a Costa Rican Women’s Crafts Cooperative:
Approaches to Problems of Rapid Growth at CASEM in the Santa
Elena—Monteverde Region 210

24 ° Laura Guzman Stein
Reconceptualizing the Theory of Women in Organizations:
Contributions of Feminist Analysis 234

VI ° The Women’s Movement and Feminism  the Arts 245

25 ° Sally R. Felton
Feminist Visions: Four Women Artists in Costa Rica 248

26 ° Sandra Castro Paniagua and Luisa Gongalves

Women and Love: Myths and Stereotypes in Popular Songs
Broadcast in Costa Rica 262

Contents vii

seemed understood, though never stated, that this particular centennial cele-
brated men’s—not even all men’s—independence from Spain. Perhaps it is not
so illogical that Nobel Prize winner President Oscar Arias Sanchez in 1989
celebrated one hundred years of democracy and forty years of women’s voting
rights in Costa Rica.

In 1921, Angela Acufia turned to women’s rights in full, to the extent possible
for her and her contemporaries. Before that struggle for the vote can be
understood, however, we must explore the role of the educational establish-
ment and of the Catholic Church. These essential forces also actively blocked
women from obtaining their political rights.

Women and Education

Throughout Costa Rica’s history, a common argument against granting
women their political rights was their lack of education. But at the same time,
the patriarchal system was limiting women’s access to educational oppor-
tunities, even though education is another of those “inherent” citizen’s at-
tributes in Costa Rican civic tradition, “one of the central concerns of our
founding fathers. Governments are evaluated depending upon how much they
support educational endeavors” (Volio in Viquez, 1978: 8). The slogan “Costa
Rica has more teachers than soldiers” (‘policemen’ after the 1949 elimination
of the military) is an integral aspect of Costa Rican cultural identity. But what
about women?

The first Costa Rican primary school was founded in 1812; the first second-
ary school, La Casa de Ensefianza de Santo Tomas, in 1814; and the Universidad
de Santo Tomas opened its doors in 1843 (Fallas and Silva, 1985: 51). But only in
1847——thirty-five years after the founding of the first school—was a woman’s
right to receive an education formally recognized: “Education is a right of all
citizens” and, specifically, “Public instruction of both sexes will be uniform
throughout the nation” (CA, 1946: 148, Art. 169, 170). (The “uniformity” issue
is not true even today, if one considers that the home economics course is still
taught to women students only [CMF, 1988, p. 34].) In 1858, education became
compulsory for both males and females, and Article 6 of the 1869 Constitution
stated, “Elementary education of both sexes is compulsory, free and subsidized
by the State” (Alfaro and Rios, 1984: 25).

But education, although compulsory for both genders, was not the same for
men and women. The Liceo de Nifias (first Girls’ High School in Costa Rica), a
private girls’ school begun informally in 1841, changed in 1847 into a legitimate

66 Sara Sharratt

secondary school to train women to become elementary school teachers and to
teach other important skills (Sherman, 1984: 18). In 1856 the school closed,
stating that “it had accomplished its goal” of training forty teachers. It re-
opened in 1858, its curriculum changed from elementary education to “prepa-
ration for home life,” with an emphasis on domestic chores so that women
could learn their duties as men’s companions. They were “taught” how to be
frugal, run a household, and change diapers (Fallas and Silva, 1985: 157-66).
Public schools were few, located mainly in capitals and inaccessible to most
girls, who were not allowed to walk long distances. In 1856, only three of
seventy-one public educational institutions were for girls (Sherman, 1984: 18).
In 1871, a new law instructed school officials to admit only one girl per house-
hold and to determine on the spot which of the female children in the house-
hold had most potential (Fallas and Silva, 1985: 16).

Women’s right to education was reiterated in the major educational reform
of 1886. The Colegio Superior de Sefioritas (Girls’ High School and Normal
School), the oldest public secondary school for women, was inaugurated in
1888 as a four-year teacher—training institute. It taught calisthenics, home eco-
nomics, sewing, drawing, and hygiene, as well as reading, writing, arithmetic,
geography, history, and pedagogy (Chacon, 1984: 4). A 1902 reform added
typing and secretarial skills. In 1903, the Colegio suffered its worst blow: It
became a professional school to grant teaching and “business” degrees, a eu-
phemism for secretarial work. The curriculum was reduced to three and two
years respectively (Chacon, 1984: 6). Consequently, young women who wanted
to pursue university studies had to enroll in the boys’ secondary school during
the last two years to earn the high—school diploma that would qualify them to
attend the university. Only in 1934 was the Colegio recertified as a regular
secondary school (Barahona, 1986: 83). Private schools could not grant a high-
school diploma until 1941; before that date, private—school women students
had to transfer to the public Colegio Superior de Sefioritas (Chacon, 1984: 7) to
fulfill university entrance requirements.

In their education as in their marital roles, women were not treated as
citizens whose full potential should be developed. Rather, women’s education
was seen primarily as an efficacious way of training future wives, mothers, and
educators of potential politicians (El Mentor Costarricense, 1844: 251). Consis-
tent with this hardly logical perception, the subject of civics was dropped from
their curriculum and replaced with sewing, embroidery, domestic science, and
candy making (Fallas and Silva, 1985: 166).

This model of women’s “civilizing function” continued throughout most of

The Sufifragist Movement, 1889-1949 67

the twentieth century. Moreover, many Costa Ricans viewed any kind of edu-
cation for women as dangerous and contrary to women’s nature: “Not only
will they cease to bear fruit, but they will also bring shame and dishonor to
their loved ones. We cannot help, therefore, but feel pity for those who encour-
age women to partake in reform movements and reproach those women who
forget that they will lose their modesty and their delicacy, which are the build-
ing blocks of domestic tranquility. It is in this sphere where their true influence
on society can be manifested” (El Mentor Costarricense, 1846: 271).

But in the end, advocates of girls’ education won. An 1887 magazine article
encouraged parents to send girls to school, stating that although a woman
could not equal a man’s abilities and natural rights, they could reach his level in
the areas of arts and letters (cited in Sherman, 1984: 18). Even this education
was tailored to support patriarchal ideology: “If they are an essential part of
our society, what reason is there for not spending 50 pesos on their education if
one is already spending 100 pesos on a boy’s education?” (El Mentor Costa-
rricense, 1844: 252). Another “supporter,” the editor of La Ensenanza, a boys’-
school magazine, could not hide his contempt when he visited the best girls’
secondary schools. “The Colegio de Sion [a religious private school founded in
1878] besides the usual infantile opening speech delivered by the principal,
tested its pupils. I must admit the teachers worked incessantly and well. This
was most evident in the fields of arts and decoration. I suggested that they be
taught in Spanish [they were taught in French] ,” and “the Colegio Superior de
Sefioritas taught its students writing, reading, grammar, and history. I was
pleased by the beauty of the calisthenics classes. Sewing skills were unsurpass-
able” (La Ensenanza, 1887: 351; emphasis added).

I/Vhen women were not being impelled to develop their domestic skills, they
were encouraged to become teachers. Patriarchal ideology held that “inside
every woman there is a teacher” (Chacon, 1984: 17). It worked. In 1890, there
were 322 male to 407 female teachers. In 1940, comparable figures were 611 to
2,047. In the mid 1980s, the proportion was one male teacher to every eleven
female teachers (Chacon, 1984: 28). Women provided a source of cheap educa-
tional labor. But when it came to providing scholarships for advanced training,
women were not given preference or even parity: “The government will subsi-
dize ten Costa Rican youngsters (eight men, two women) to go to the United
States and Europe to pursue advanced training. The males will be trained in
engineering and natural sciences in general. The women will be trained in
professional feminine arts” (La Ensenanza, January 1887: 320).

The Universidad de Santo Tomas closed in 1888. It was reestablished as

68 Sara Sharratt

Universidad de Costa Rica in 1940, and since that time women’s admissions
have not been restricted. But even today, parity in education is far from a
reality. Women are still graduating in traditional careers and they still face
considerable discrimination in the availability of postgraduate and profes-
sional training. (For a complete analysis see Garcia and Gomariz, 1989). Thus,
not only was women’s lack of education used to deny them the right to vote,
the whole educational system treated them as noncitizens.

In spite of their poor education, however, women fought constantly in
Costa Rica’s political battles, even when they were considered too uneducated
to engage in politics. Clearly, something was amiss.

Women and the Church

The third important force preventing women from obtaining the right tovote
was the Catholic Church, the institution of the country’s official religion. Like
the state, the church was interested in maintaining women’s subordinate posi-
tion in keeping with the “natural order” of the world (Zufiiga, 1985). Through-
out Costa Rica’s republican period, religious leaders affirmed that women’s
place was in the home: “It is necessary for humanity that there be a subordina-
tion of one sex under the other as this presents God’s will. . . . There are two
pulses of human life, freedom and obedience. If obedience is not exercised,
freedom will degenerate into the whims and tyranny of the stronger one”
(Ferro and Quiros, 1988: 53-54). According to this belief, women by nature
needed male tutelage or society would face economic and spiritual decay.

The church played a significant political role in Costa Rica and was courted
by all political parties. Cora Ferro and Ana Maria Quirés (1988: 48) note that
during women’s struggle for the vote the church:

1. Was conservative and in a constant struggle against Protestantism, communism,
and modernism;

T 2. Was dominated by an elitist oligarchy;

3. Was concerned with ethical and moral dilemmas and devoid of any discussion of
social political problems;
4. Showed a European influence that tended to romanticize life for women; and
5. Was masculinist and androcentric.

Needless to say, the church totally opposed women’s enfranchisement. In 1958,
many years after the vote was won, priests were still lamenting, “Today, hus-
band and wife belong to different political parties. This creates conflict. It is no

The Suflragist Movement, 1889-1949

69

good for women to participate in politics. . . . The delicate femininity and
dignity of wives and mothers demand that they stay away from politics” (Ferro
and Quirés, 1988: 83). Thus, religion was a vital force in maintaining the status
quo by instructing women to be submissive, compliant, and solicitous. This is
still true today.

Sixty Years of Suffragist Struggle

The Costa Rican suffragist movement shared much with movements in Eu-
rope and the United States, but it also displayed unique characteristics. As had
been the case in Europe and the United States, the women of Costa Rica strug-
gled for years—sixty years, in fact—to win the vote (DMF, 1982: 5). But in Costa
Rica, the women’s rights movement lacked the grassroots support from masses
of people that similar movements enjoyed in, for example, the United States.
Frequently, Costa Rica’s profound class differences and highly patriarchal
Spanish Catholic heritage isolated women suffragists as leaders of small move-
ments who divided their attention between class struggles and women’s rights.

As in Latin America in general, the Costa Rican feminist movement was
started by women who had struggled for their education and who often shared
specific characteristics (Gross and Bingham, 1985: 8). Costa Rican women in
the movement tended to have the following characteristics:

One parent was an immigrant of European background.

They had studied in Europe or in the United States.

They had participated in international women’s organizations.

They had professional training as teachers or doctors and were self-supporting.

‘:"-'>‘.”N!"‘

They were often from the middle class.

Angela Acufia exemplifies these women. Her mother was half German.
Acufia had studied at a girls’ private school in England and had attended
suffragist meetings in England (Calvo 1989a: 51). Although Acufia was not a
teacher, as were most Costa Rican suffragists, she was a professional woman-a
lawyer—and she was from the middle class. And she typified the suffragists in
another way. Many suffragists took pride in their good manners and attempted
to be as nonconfrontational as possible toward the patriarchs of the time. This
certainly was not the case in England. Yet, as Yadira Calvo reasons, Acufia’s key
to success was, without a doubt, the manner in which she tried to minimize the
affront to those who held the obsolete beliefs of the time, though it certainly
slowed down the conquest of women’s political rights (1989a: 64).

70 Sara Sharratt

The role of female teachers in the movement was more central in Costa Rica
than in Europe or the United States. Teachers often belonged to the Liga
Feminista (Feminist League) that Acufia had founded in 1923 (see Calvo, chap.
1 above) and to the Worker’s party, and they therefore endured the divided
nature of the struggle. Yet, Costa Rican feminist groups created less political
pressure around the vote than around other causes. Women often led protests
in grassroots movements that were not concerned primarily with women’s
political rights. In fact, women never staged large protest demonstrations to
gain their political rights. In patriarchal Costa Rica a deviation from pre-
scribed roles was severely punished. Consequently, attacks on brave women
who dared demand the vote were particularly vicious.

What Costa Rica’s suffragist movement did share with almost all other
women’s movements in the world, however, was male opposition and the
arguments men used to support that opposition.

Increasing Intensity over Fifty Years, 1889-1940

The struggle for women’s political rights in Costa Rica became evident in 1889
when, for the first time, women’s rights became an issue for an incoming
president. After the election, newly elected President Jose Joaquin Rodriguez
acknowledged women’s participation in the November 7, 1889, uprising and
endorsed their right to vote, the first time a Costa Rican president had made
this concession. But he qualified the endorsement to ensure it would not go
any further: “I consider this premature, and I am only a carrier of this message
so that the Legislative Assembly, if it wishes to, may take it into consideration”
(Barahona, 1986: 38).

In the early 1900s, Costa Rica’s newspapers were filled with cables from the
radical suffragist movement in England. This flow of cables had an impact on
Costa Rican society, and local newspapers responded with sarcasm, mockery,
and ridicule. “It has been rumored in the capital that in the province of
Alajuela women are seeking to form a political feminist group. How ugly and
bothersome to see women meddling in political campaigns. . . . Each home will
become a political club where peace and security will be lost” (La Informacién,
1913: 2). Or “Isn’t it ridiculous for women to discard their home obligations in
order to do politics. Some would call this behavior immoral” (La I nformacion,
May 13, cited by Barahona, 1986: 53).

Against this background, Angela Acufia’s long career as a suffragist began.
The years when Acufia had been a student in England were among the most
tumultuous in the struggle for the vote there. “I was aware of how they had

The Suflragist Movement, 1889-1949 71

broken the window of Parliament, of the kidnapping of Mr. Asquith, the prime
minister, and of their intention of throwing him into the Thames” (Acufia,
1969: 343). She returned to Costa Rica in 1910; in 1912, with a special dispensa-
tion, she became the first woman to enroll in the boys’ secondary school for
certification to enter the university.

The political climate of 1912 was so conservative that even Acufia wrote
under a pseudonym, avoiding the radical tone of the messages of her European
sisters. She was a bit defensive abouther feminism and was flattered by male
appreciation of her femininity. “When I founded the Feminist Movement in
Costa Rica, I could not be called an old maid. Iwas young, happy, gracious, and
not at all ugly. . . . I never intended to discard femininity, the greatest beauty
God has given us. . . . One great compliment was an inscription on a gift from a
(Acufia, 1969: 347).

Her first argument for the vote built on the premise that women would

)3)

male friend: ‘To the most feminine of the feminists

continue to outnumber men and marriage was therefore not an option for all
women. Furthermore, she stated, women needed to be more independent and
self—governing because they were less willing to enter the convent (the other
plausible alternative), polygamy was detestable to all, andinfanticide was prac-
ticed only by the “savages of Africa” (Acufia, 1969: 348). Obviously, Acufia’s
egalitarian feminism was not completely egalitarian, and certainly it was not
free of a racism common to that time.

While a few brave women joined with Acufia to demand the right to vote,
other groups emerged to fight for workers’ rights under the leadership of
Maria Isabel Carvajal (a teacher and renowned writer who wrote under the
pen name of Carmen Lyra), Luisa Gonzalez, and male intellectuals who
founded the Sociedad Federal de Trabajadores (Federated Worker’s Union) in
1912 (Chacon, 1984: 62; also see Calvo, chap. 1 above). In 1931, Carvajal was a
founding member of the Communist party, the first Costa Rican party to put
women’s political rights on their platform. Actually, the party’s commitment
to women’s struggle was minimal. Carvajal herself supported women’s right to
vote, but she fought primarily for Workers’ welfare and did not see feminist
struggles as a separate issue. Acuf1a’s and Carvajal’s lives were curiously inter-
twined throughout this period and, in separate but related struggles, they were
almost always on opposite sides in their political alliances. They never resolved
their differences, and this affected the struggle for women’s political rights.

The year 1917 marked the first time that a women’s grassroots movement
evolved around the struggle for the preservation of democratic practices. Dur-
ing Federico Tinoco’s dictatorship (1917-19), the government seriously cur-

72' Sara Sharratt

tailed civil liberties and the freedom of press and assembly. The country went
through a severe financial crisis, and teachers (most of them female) were
among the most seriously affected. In addition to being poorly paid, they were
paid in tercerillas (thirds), notes representing one—third of their salary, which
were to be redeemed at a bank at a future unspecified date. Friends of the
government (males) purchased the tercerillas at half their face value from
teachers who needed the money immediately; later the “friends” exchanged
the tercerillas for their full value at local banks (Barahona, 1986: 70). When
teachers became vocal opponents of Tinoco, he threatened them with layoffs,
firings, and the revamping of pension plans. They became the major leaders in
the opposition to the government. Maria Isabel Carvajal was clearly one of
those leaders.

Many violent demonstrations in 1919 against the Tinoco dictatorship were
headed mostly by women and students, who were frequently beaten and hosed
down. Carvajal herself was wounded in one such encounter (Chacon, 1984:
76). On June 13, 1919, women led by Andrea Mora, with support by Carvajal,
burned the official newspaper La Irzformaczbn (Chacon, 1984: 80). They kept
up the pressure, and Tinoco was overthrown. Throughout this period, Acufia
had continued writing on women’s political rights, but as an old friend of the
Tinoco family, she backed him during these events. She was loyal especially to
Maria Fernandez Le Chappelain, her schoolmate and Tinoco’s wife (Calvo,
1989a: 91)

In 1920 Tinoco’s successor, Iulio Acosta, became the second Costa Rican
president to support women’s right to vote. “In the last political battle, women
showed their moral caliber and their willingness to die for their beliefs, and
they gave men examples of their civic commitment,” he said. “We need their
cooperation in our struggles against alcoholism and other vices. Women
proved their unselfishness, the purity of their passion, and the kindness of
their souls” (cited by Barahona, 1986: 68). Although he recognized women’s
leading role in the restoration of democratic processes, he limited his enfran—
chisement proposal to municipal elections and to women who paid taxes. And
what he was demarcating as women’s projects clearly did not represent Acufia’s
vision in 1920.

President Acosta’s 1920 proposal supported a measure that Acufia had spon-
sored five years earlier. In 1915, she had used somewhat similar arguments in
articles in favor of the vote, which appeared in her newly founded literary
magazine Figaro. “Don’t you think it is unjust,” Acufia asked at that time, “that
men without economic resources are allowed to vote even though they don’t

The Sujfragist Movement, 1889-1949 73

pay taxes, and women who pay them cannot vote? If this is not unjust, I do not
know what men call injustice” (Calvo, 1989a: 76). The response of opponents
quickly followed: “For God’s sake, Angelita, have pity on us: Don’t you think it
would be equivalent to tying a rope around our necks and jumping in the river
if we were to tolerate a political campaign run by La Canduche and La Sevilla
[famous “madams”]? I can just see a working session suspended because of the
president’s labor pains or because of the unexpected visit of an uncle at the vice
president’s house” (cited by Calvo, 1989a: 77).

President Acosta’s motion was defeated on August 15, 1920 (Barahona, 1986:
72). Acufia later stated, “Up to this point, I had fought alone, protected and en-
couraged by a select group of distinguished gentlemen” (Acufia, 1969: 351). She
then turned her attention toward women and, on October 12, 1923, founded
the Liga Feminista, the first official suffragist organization in Costa Rica. She
was its first president, and most of its members were teachers (Barahona, 1986:
72). “We knew that our activities were not taken seriously. There was around
them a conspiracy of silence. We did not fool ourselves,” Acufia later wrote
(1969: 355). A teachers’ dispute sparked the league’s first organized move; in
1924, male teachers submitted a bill that would raise the salaries of men but not
of women teachers. “At that time, I did work for the women teachers of the
country” (Acufia, 1969: 357; emphasis added). Acufia was obviously feeling
defensive about her lack of participation during the Tinoco period. After the
league’s active campaign, the male teachers lost their bill.

In 1924, Acufia began sending signed petitions to the Legislative Assembly,
requesting women’s enfranchisement (Chacon, 1984: 1oo—o1). In 1925, the
league, acting as a formal organization, asked the assembly to grant women the
vote. The league presented its demand in the midst of an electoral reform that
included an article listing—following European tradition—categories of peo-
ple who would be ineligible to vote: children, the mentally defective, minors,
criminals or those in jail until rehabilitated, and women (Calvo, 1989b: 4). The
league proposed to remove women from this list, contending further that the
language of the 1871 Constitution did not exclude women, and that they should
therefore be granted the right to vote. The patriarchs did not intend to take this
additional step.

It was at this point that opponents cited a woman’s inability to grant citizen-
ship to her foreign—born husband as evidence of women’s subordinate status
under the law. They also cited Article 73 of the Civil Code: “A wife must obey
her husband, live with him, and follow him if he were to change residence”
(Barahona, 1986: 106). Other arguments noted the dangers to a woman’s

74 Sara Sharmtt

“physical and moral beauty . . . whereby the vote would tarnish the white tunic
covering her body” (La Gaceta, 1925a), or stated, “It is degenerate of men to say
that human perfection means ‘become independent, fight, educate yourself.’ I
will always prefer to see my daughters praying and asking God for enlighten-
merit” (La Gaceta, 1925b).

Women lost again, but this time the patriarchs held out a carrot: “The day
will come when a select group of women will be given the right to vote and be
elected. . . . We don’t think all should have it, because too many are unedu-
cated” (Barahona, 1986: 101).

In 1926 Acufia returned to Europe (Calvo, 1989a: 113), where she would
remain for three years. Her absence affected the suffragist struggle noticeably,
and the Liga Feminista became involved in traditional feminine activities. Its
new president, Lidia Fernandez, joined other educated women, such as the
noted writer Lilia Ramos, in deploring women’s lack of education, which
precluded their becoming voters (Anonymous, 1926). They also blamed the
victims, women themselves. Fernandez, for example, asserted that women’s
great demand for luxuries oppressed husbands and children (Diario de Costa
Rica, 1931, September 14: 1a). No wonder that the same newspaper described
the Liga Feminista as a charitable organization (Diaro de Costa Rica, 1926, July
16: 13). There were still strong feminist voices, but they seemed in the minority.
The same paper quoted another suffragist leader, a Mrs. McCormick, as say-
ing: “Every time we speak of women’s liberation, there is considerable anxi-
ety. . . . Men invent thousands of tricks to deny women their right. What do
men think politics is all about? \/Vho has given them the right to claim it only
for themselves?” (Diario de Costa Rica, 1931, September 14: 1a).

Yet, the word feminism scared people. Atheism, for example, was a common
accusation used against feminists. In 1929, the organization changed its name
to the Cultural Society, and it also changed its objectives, which became those
of encouraging the intellectual, physical, and moral education of women and
guiding them in their duties, especially maternity (Barahona, 1986: 118). No
wonder that after her return in 1931 Acufia said, “The suffragist movement
declined during my absence. Women became involved in other activities”
(1969: 360). '

In 1931, soon after her return, the restored Liga Feminista, with Acufia again
its president, sent to the assembly another bill to amend the constitution. This
time, Acufia was joined by other prominent leaders, such as Esther de Mezer-
ville, principal of the Colegio Superior de Sefioritas (Calvo, 1989a: 135). The
proposed amendment would grant the right to vote to the following women:

The Safiragist Movement, 1889-1949 75