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Pan American experiences
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SOUTH AMERICA ------------------------------------------120[FEATURE] LISTEN TO THE LATINA | |||
Breaking the SilenceA Latina Perspective on Machismo
By Chris Engholm for Ruta Pantera on 11/19/2024 6:53:34 AM |
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| Machismo has deep roots in our history. It dates back to Spanish colonization, which imposed a patriarchal model where women were seen as inferior, subordinated to male power. Traditional Catholicism reinforced this view: we were meant to be submissive, nurturing, pure. Men, on the other hand, were the heads of the household, the decision-makers, the leaders. Even preexisting Indigenous hierarchies adapted to this scheme. Thus, a culture was cemented in which male power became the norm and inequality became tradition.
From a young age, many of us were taught to be obedient, sweet, and to care for others. Our brothers, on the other hand, were taught to be strong, independent, and assertive. This difference didn’t just shape our behavior—it shaped our ambitions. It made us believe that power wasn’t for us. And even though many things have changed today, we still carry those old mandates in what we say, what we silence, and what we endure.>Talking about machismo in Latin America is talking about a legacy that still weighs heavily on our lives. It is not a recent or isolated phenomenon. It is a structure that has infiltrated our families, our schools, our churches, and our emotions. I grew up under its rules, I’ve seen it all around me, and many times, I even normalized it. That’s why today, more than ever, I feel the need to understand it—and to name it.
Machismo has deep roots in our history. It dates back to Spanish colonization, which imposed a patriarchal model where women were seen as inferior, subordinated to male power. Traditional Catholicism reinforced this view: we were meant to be submissive, nurturing, pure. Men, on the other hand, were the heads of the household, the decision-makers, the leaders. Even preexisting Indigenous hierarchies adapted to this scheme. Thus, a culture was cemented in which male power became the norm and inequality became tradition. From a young age, many of us were taught to be obedient, sweet, and to care for others. Our brothers, on the other hand, were taught to be strong, independent, and assertive. This difference didn’t just shape our behavior—it shaped our ambitions. It made us believe that power wasn’t for us. And even though many things have changed today, we still carry those old mandates in what we say, what we silence, and what we endure.> Machismo has deep roots in our history. It dates back to Spanish colonization, which imposed a patriarchal model where women were seen as inferior, subordinated to male power. Traditional Catholicism reinforced this view: we were meant to be submissive, nurturing, pure. Men, on the other hand, were the heads of the household, the decision-makers, the leaders. Even preexisting Indigenous hierarchies adapted to this scheme. Thus, a culture was cemented in which male power became the norm and inequality became tradition. From a young age, many of us were taught to be obedient, sweet, and to care for others. Our brothers, on the other hand, were taught to be strong, independent, and assertive. This difference didn’t just shape our behavior—it shaped our ambitions. It made us believe that power wasn’t for us. And even though many things have changed today, we still carry those old mandates in what we say, what we silence, and what we endure.>Talking about machismo in Latin America is talking about a legacy that still weighs heavily on our lives. It is not a recent or isolated phenomenon. It is a structure that has infiltrated our families, our schools, our churches, and our emotions. I grew up under its rules, I’ve seen it all around me, and many times, I even normalized it. That’s why today, more than ever, I feel the need to understand it—and to name it. Machismo has deep roots in our history. It dates back to Spanish colonization, which imposed a patriarchal model where women were seen as inferior, subordinated to male power. Traditional Catholicism reinforced this view: we were meant to be submissive, nurturing, pure. Men, on the other hand, were the heads of the household, the decision-makers, the leaders. Even preexisting Indigenous hierarchies adapted to this scheme. Thus, a culture was cemented in which male power became the norm and inequality became tradition. From a young age, many of us were taught to be obedient, sweet, and to care for others. Our brothers, on the other hand, were taught to be strong, independent, and assertive. This difference didn’t just shape our behavior—it shaped our ambitions. It made us believe that power wasn’t for us. And even though many things have changed today, we still carry those old mandates in what we say, what we silence, and what we endure. |
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The media has also played a massive role. How many times did we see jealousy portrayed in soap operas as proof of love? Or that a woman should endure mistreatment because “that’s just how men are”? From commercials to music, we’ve been bombarded with images of passive women and dominant men. These portrayals tell us—without words—that toxicity is romantic. And many times, we end up believing it. Machismo hurts. Not only physically, when there is violence, but emotionally. It causes anxiety, sadness, low self-esteem. It makes us doubt our worth. I myself have felt guilty for saying “no,” afraid to say “yes,” ashamed for wanting something different. It’s a constant drain that many of us carry in silence. Sometimes I wonder why so many women, even when we know something is wrong, accept it or justify it. The answer isn’t simple. When machismo is in the home, the church, on TV, among friends—it’s hard to see it as a problem. Some of us accept it as a form of protection, a survival strategy, or simply because that’s how we were taught to receive love. It’s not uncommon for many of us to become emotionally attached to machista men. Fear of abandonment, low self-esteem, the belief in “love conquers all”—these make us justify the unjustifiable. Add to that the cycle of violence—tension, aggression, and the honeymoon phase—and we get trapped. I’ve met brilliant, strong women caught in that cycle. I’ve even been there myself. Machismo doesn’t just hit. It also controls. It stops us from working, checks our phones, tells us how to dress, takes our income, insults us, blames us. All of that is violence. And the cruelest part is that, often, it goes unnoticed—treated as just part of being in a relationship. In many churches, I heard that women should be subject to men. That we should stay quiet, sacrifice, forgive. Religion, when interpreted conservatively, becomes a cage. Add to that the “culture of honor,” which demands that men be strong and dominant, never showing weakness, while we are expected to protect the family’s reputation through our behavior. That culture produces men incapable of feeling and women who live in fear of disobedience. I’ve lived in cities and visited rural areas. And while machismo takes different forms, it’s still present. In rural settings, it’s often more direct, reinforced by tradition and religious influence. In cities, it’s disguised as jokes, catcalls, or “micro-machismos.” But in both places, it limits us. | |||
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