Documentary: "La Identidad de Justicia: Mujeres Trans en Cochabamba"

"The Identity of Justice: Trans Women in Cochabamba"

The accumulation of my work in Cochabamba, Bolivia. The documentary below is 14 minutes and investigates the experiences of transexual women in Cochabamba, Bolivia. It focuses on discrimination, HIV, and Sex Work

La Identidad de Justicia: Mujeres Trans en Cochabamba (English Subtitles) from Lucas Waldron on Vimeo.

Political Graffiti - Null Votes and Cocaine Roads

The walls of Cochabamba are covered in graffiti. Some of it illegible, some of it statements of teenage adoration, but most is rooted in political adversity.

As displayed in the picture above, the walls of Cochabamba are often canvases for political messages, such as the frequent "nulo = nulo" messages spread across the city. This particular statement references several different elections in Bolivia's history when large percentages of the population chose to cast "null votes" instead of voting for candidates or reforms that were viewed as biased. For example, in 2011 there were elections to choose 56 new judiciary officials in Bolivia. The candidates, however, were chosen by Evo Morales' administration, the MAS party (socialist party), that many Bolivians view as extremely corrupt. Since the opposition was not represented in the election, about 48% of voters cast null votes, and 20% of eligible voters abstained from voting, even though it is compulsory. The ballots, however, were counted only including legitimate votes, thus only representing about 30% of the population. Graffiti around the city expresses discontent over elections like this, where null votes sometimes account for a higher percentage than any of the candidates.

Tipnis is another political topic that frequents the walls of Cochabamba, normally in the form of statements like "Defiende Tipnis" -- "Defend Tipnis." Tipnis is a region of Bolivia between the departments of Beni and Cochabamba, bordering the Amazon rain forest. The region is a protected land, home to many species of flora and fauna in danger of extinction, and home to several very rural indigenous communities. The MAS government of Evo Morales wants to build a road through the Tipnis. The reasons for this road are heavily debated. The government's political line is that the road will bring more resources to poor and rural communities and connect Bolivian communities in a manner that will improve the economy. Pretty much every Bolivian I have talked to about this matter, however, calls bullshit on the government's argument.

According to the Cochabambinos that I have spoken with, the road is a manifestation of the political control the Cocaleros (Coca growers) have on the government. The Coca Leaf is a plant grown in Bolivia (and other Latin American countries) with varying uses. Certain kinds of coca leaf are used for chewing, tea, and human consumption. Other kinds of coca leaf are used to create cocaine. And Bolivia is the third largest coca producer in the world. In the region surrounding Tipnis, the Cocaleros control nearly everything. They also do not produce the kind of coca that can be used for human consumption, and where their crop goes after it is harvested is a mystery to everyone... The argument of most Cochabambinos (and environmental organizations) is this: Evo Morales is a cocalero (this is not an argument so much as a fact since he self-identifies as such) and his administration is run based on the support of cocaleros. The cocaleros want a road that will make it easier to transport their coca crops, most of which is made into cocaine. Additionally, the cocaleros need to move off of their current land because the coca crop destroys the soil. You can only grow coca for 4-5 years (or harvests) before the soil is completely lifeless and unusable. Thus, coca plantations are constantly migrating, leaving a trail of destruction behind. If a road were to be built through Tipnis, the cocaleros could easily settle in this region and start new coca plantations. The weather and soil are ripe for coca growing and coca is an incredibly lucrative crop because of how much money the production of cocaine can produce. Environmentalist foresee this migration, and know that the Tipnis region will be destroyed if the cocaleros move in. Additionally, the indigenous communities in Tipnis don't want to the cocaleros in their communities because they do not want more drugs moving through the region. With drugs comes severe environmental impacts, not to mention violence and political corruption.

As of now, the indigenous communities have marched to La Paz (on FOOT) to protest the creation of this road. In return, the cocaleros have also marched. Construction has not started, but may be imminent. Thus, heavy political activity exists in Cochabamba in opposition to both the construction of the road and the corruption in the government based on the control of the cocaleros.

Queer.

It is astounding how connected the queer community is across the globe. The solidarity that exists amongst queer people consistently blows my mind. Last night, I attended the pride celebration in Cochabamba– the one day a year that gay, transgender, lesbian, bisexual, androgynous, queer, etc. people take the to the streets without fear or shame based on their sexual orientation or gender identity. The festival was amazing, inspiring, and empowering. I never expected to see so many people in the streets supporting the movement.

What’s more, however, is the sense of solidarity I feel with the queer people I meet in Cochabamba. This isn’t an isolated experience– anytime I have traveled and met other queer people, it’s the same feeling. Queers across the globe are one, interwoven community. No matter where you go, if there is a queer community and you are queer, you will be accepted. This is my experience, at least.

It’s hard to describe the experience of a transnational queer community to people who are not queer; because I can’t imagine anything quite the same exists. It’s this intrinsic understanding of respect when you meet people. No matter how alone I have felt at times this summer, or out of place I feel at straight, glamorous clubs (the type of place that checks my ID three times because my gender expression, age, and sex don't match), I know that if I can find that one queer bar, everything will be ok. Because people who are queer just get each other.

Every day in Cochabamba, somebody exclaims over my gender identity. “Lucas… why do you have a boys’ name?” or “You can’t be older than 14…” or “Are you male or female? I don’t understand.” Well, sir, I have a boy’s name because I chose that name. I’m 21 years old despite your disbelief. I am not really male or female and I would prefer not to educate you on the complexities of gender at this point in time.

But when you are in a queer place (a bar, a café, a street corner) nobody asks those questions. There is a sense of intrinsic respect for other human beings that goes so far beyond the consciousness of much of the non-queer community. No matter how ablaze in consternation your brain might be, it really just doesn’t matter if I am a boy or a girl and, yes, I do get asked that every day. But in the queer community there is this sentiment that it just doesn’t matter because we are human and we are all fighting for both internal and external acceptance because we are all different, and weird, and abnormal. And we all make people who are not like us just a little bit uncomfortable. And because we all experience this, we are close. Surrounded by a crowd of queer people last night –drag queens, transsexual women, young gay couples, and old gay couples, single lesbian mothers– I felt more connected to complete strangers who speak different languages, believe in different religions, and experience different realities, than I feel on a street corner in the United States surrounded by other English-speaking, white, middle-class Americans.

There’s something beautiful in our struggle. There’s something beautiful in the knowledge that no matter how despised, stupid, or wrong you feel, if you can just get to that place– that place in every city where a community of people who are different and yet all so the same gather– if you can get there, you will be OK. Somebody will understand you. Somebody won’t make a face when you introduce yourself or ask you why you are who you are or, better yet, what the hell you are.

I think one of the biggest gifts I have been given in my life is to be able to experience this sense of community from some of the people who are most marginalized in this world. Although all of our struggles are different, the queer community at its core is one accumulative struggle, rooted in solidarity.

A Night of Pride

On Saturday, the LGBT community (emphasis on the T) took to the streets of Cochabamba for the annual pride march. The festivities centered around the transsexual female community and drag community. Thousands of people came out to watch the march and support the movement. It was an incredibly moving experience and accumlated in the best night I have had so far in Cochabamba.

The irony of it all is that so many Transsexual women took the streets and were supported by the community, when any other night, many of these women would be on streets in a very different context. On those nights, the discrimination against transsexual women runs rampant. In a society where Trans women have no employment options other than sex work, it is deeply upsetting to see the Cochabambino community support their neighbors for only one night a year. I couldn't help but think, "Tomorrow, these women will be out on the streets again, but there will not be a crowd cheering them on." 

Start of the march.

Glamorous.

The outfits were incredible.

Fierce!

Dancing to Gaga.

Pride and Progress

This blog is a bit off-topic and not inherently related to my time in Bolivia. However, today is a really big day back in the states! This afternoon a film I made last fall Social Notworking (Watch Here) is screening at a student film festival in Hollywood. Luckily, my awesome friend/assistant director/screen writer Vicki and our stupendous leading actress Dana are able to attend the festival since I cannot! Additionally, Dana is up for the Best Actress award at the festival. I'm so proud of our team and I hope everyone who reads this is sending good vibes their way!

Secondly, this weekend is Pride in San Francisco and it's the first time since I moved to San Francisco that I have not attended. Thinking about the Pride festivities makes me really reflect on the status of human, social, and civil rights around the world. Living in San Francisco can be such a bubble of acceptance and tolerance. Sometimes I forget to appreciate the beauty of the San Francisco community and the luck I have experienced in being able to live there.

Here in Cochabamba I see the huge disparity in rights between the queer community and the cis-gender, heterosexual community. In Uganda, people are being killed for being Gay. In most of Latin America, there is no word for 'heteronormativity' because there is nothing to oppose it. It's hard to define something when it appears to be part of the very fabric of our being.

I was watching Harvey Milk's Hope Speech today and feeling very inspired. Because I do have hope. I have a lot of hope for the future of Latin America and the ability for tolerance and respect to develop. I have hope that marriage equality will become a reality in the United States. I have hope that every year, fewer and fewer gay youth will commit suicide, until finally, a year goes by where no gay youth commit suicide. We are not there, yet, though. Suicide is a reality, hate crimes are a reality, and second class citizenship is a reality in 2012.

I hope, though, that I am contributing to making 2013 a year of progress.

Happy Pride <3

Evo.

I just returned from a meeting with my boss and, somehow, she has approved my project! I just finished a draft of my grant for funding for distribution of the project and titled it the Gender Identity Awareness Project. It will be completed in two parts. First, a short documentary about the experience of Trans individuals in Cochabamba in the realms of health care, human rights, and social stigma. Second, I will be creating an information packet about Trans identities that will be distributed both with the film and as a separate entity.

I am Stoked. 

Moving along...

Have you ever thought to yourself, "What the hell is the deal with Evo Morales?" Probably not, I guess. However, it's been a common thought in my head lately. Evo Morales is the President of Bolivia. He is a member of the MAS (essentially "socialist movement"). He didn't go to college. He is from the campo and identifies with indigenous communities (although he is not actually Indigenous). And debate over his presidency runs fiercer and deeper, and splayed with more propoganda, than the U.S. debates over George W. Bush.

It seems like every single person in Cochabamba has an extremely strong opinion about Evo and there are only two opinions to pick from: Love him or Hate him. Pretty much all of the host families that FSD interns are staying with hate Evo with a burning passion. Their explainations vary. For my host family specifically, they are disgusted by Evo because of his complete lack of education and insight. They talk often about how he offers incentives to campesinos who will march to Cochabamba or La Paz or any given cause and show him support. He will do things like build a soccer stadium or give a bunch of bread to the campo if all of the residents march. What he doesn't do, however, is increase infrastructure, find a way to get water to the campos, or invest in long-term development. For my host family, this is a problem. Other people seem to strongly dislike him for more anti-indigenous sentiments, and still others because he hurts international business opportunities.

However, when I drive out to rural areas with IDH for our sexual health workshops, the dirt roads are lined with spray painted Pro-Evo signage. The campesinos seem to love him. I can't figure out if it is because of lack of education and blind faith in the government that claims to be "pro-campo" or if he has actually helped the campos' standard of living increase. 

Before coming to Bolivia, I felt like I had read a lot about Evo's government and felt somewhat in favor of his regime change from his neoliberal predecessors. But now, all of that is in question. Poverty has not reduced in Bolivia during Evo's Presidency (since 2006), laws have been cohersively made to extend Evo's term in office, in fact my host family told me flat out that they don't know when the next election in Bolivia might be held. Additonally, Evo publicly stated that he thinks that eating chicken causes homosexuality. I have a serious problem with this.

But rather than assert my own views about his policies, I find it more fascinating to observe the country in a state of such political angst. The wealthier, city-dwellers seem almost hopeless in their discussion of Evo, my host family talks more of emigrating from Bolivia than actually fighting against Evo's administration. Additionally, the campos are so covered with Evo paraphenalia that it seems almost contrived. Is Evo a populist? A narcissist? Intentionally deceitful or filled with positive intentions? I'm not sure if I will ever really know.

Trans* and Transportation

Yesterday, I met with a woman named Rayza who is MTF and currently fighting for her legal name change in Cochabamba (it's not legal anywhere in Bolivia). I met with her to discuss the documentary I am creating about the Trans community. I want her to be my main story line because she is the biggest activist here in Cochabamba and is really well known in the community. She reviewed my proposal and was very interested and willing to help. Some of the things she talked about as far as the Trans community goes:

• It is much safer in Cochabamba to be FTM than MTF because of the machismo attitudes of most men. There is much more likely to be violence against a person intentionally not displaying their masculinity.
• Her biggest goal for the documentary was to expose the difference between what I think is essentially "drag" culture (or what she called "transformativos") and people who identify as transsexual or transgender. She explained that the general population of Bolivia tends to think that people who are Trans are people who decide to "cross-dress," but that they population doesn't have any understanding of actual trans identities-- i.e. People who were born into bodies that do not fit their emotional or mental identity. 
• The biggest legal fight right now for the Trans community is to legalize name changes for Trans people. This is even more difficult in Bolivia, however, because of the issue of lack of documentation for much of the population. A lot of people don't have identity cards/birth certificates/etc. to begin with. The second fight is to promote inclusive policies in the work place to ensure that no one is fired from their job based on gender identity.

On a different note, I took some (not that good) pictures of the various kinds of transportation I take yesterday. 

A "Micro" bus w/ a set route around the city. You hail the bus from the side of the street and hopes it stops for you! 1.70bs/ride

The white car is a "Taxi," but a sketch one. A lot of cars but a sticker that says Taxi on their windshield, but they are not actually part of a company or anything.

The front end of a Truffi bus. A VW-esque van with extra seats. It drives a set route and you also hail it from the sidewalk. Normally they are PACKED.

Sexualidad.

Part 1

About a week ago, I had a long talk with my host mom about my gender identity. After she had heard my friends calling me 'Lucas,' there were some questions, I think, that needed to be sorted out. For the first week here, my family was calling me "Laura" because that is my birth-name and is, thus, written on all of my documentation. I was really nervous about having this talk because, although I like my host family, I really don't know them that well and did not know how they would react. Talking about my gender identity even in the States makes me nervous enough.

I told her that I wanted to talk to her and she was very receptive. I explained that I knew she had heard my friends call me a different name and that in the States I identify as something different. Her response was awesome. She said she was confused, but also really open to whatever I identified as. She asked if I wanted her to use male pronouns and call me Lucas and I said yes. She asked some questions and I tried to explain the best I could in Spanish. All in all it went really well. Everyone in the family calls me Lucas now and uses male pronouns and I am just really surprised and relieved by how amazing they have treated me.

In the last week, I feel like I have been able to adjust so much better to living in Cochabamba. I am a lot more open to my family and much more comfortable around the house. So much has changed just from that talk. Realizing this has made me reflect a lot on my life outside of Bolivia. I think so much of me has been lost and hidden previous to accepting my gender identity. Not until the last few months have I really been able to feel like a real person and I think that change has been reflected in almost all of my relationships with other people and with myself. Being here in Bolivia is certainly opening windows into parts of myself that I had been ignoring for a long time.

Part 2


Several days this week I have accompanied my host organization (Institute for Human Development) to various middle schools in rural parts of Cochabamba to present sexual health work shops. These workshops are fascinating. The first day, I walked into a room in a middle school about 40 minutes outside of Cochabamba proper and all of the 11-year-old girls started screaming (I passed pretty well as a boy that day). The workshops include discussion about what is sex, changes to bodies during puberty, and when and how healthy relationships function. The IDH staff does an amazing job of making the kids comfortable with the subject and being both professional and friendly.

Sex Ed - Complete with puppets and costumes!

Typical Middle School Classroom

On the way to one of the Campos, the neighborhoods were lined with pro-Evo graffiti and advertisements. Exactly the opposite of the city. 

Some of my reflections on the workshops are:

• 11-year-olds in the rural outskirts of Cochabamba are receiving more sex education than I ever had in a suburban city in the United States. 
• The workshops are entirely heteronormative. IDH's mission relates to prevention of AIDS/HIV which, obviously, is transmittable through more than heterosexual sex. So, it's unfortunate that there isn't at least some discussion of the various kinds of sexual activity. Sexual identity is defined as "male" or "female" which, again, is unfortunate for any kid like me sitting in the class who probably hears that and feels more like shit about themselves than they did before IDH showed up *sigh*
• Every session always includes some kid asking if I am a boy or a girl. Normally I answer by saying, "I identify as a boy" and leaving it at that. But today one of the kids asked an IDH staff member and he said I was a girl. I decided I might as well do some education for everyone involved and jumped in and said, "No, yo identifico como un chico. Entonces, usa él y los pronombres masculinas." Surprisingly, the kids were super receptive. They barely blinked an eye and continued on with their conversations. The other staff member however seemed pretty confused (even though I introduced myself as Lucas originally and use only masculine adjectives to describe myself) and even showed me to the girls' bathroom when I asked where the bathroom was (which I politely declined). 

Part 3


With all of this discussion of sexuality, I have also decided to make my big summer project based on sex and gender. After talking with several people at IDH, I decided to commit to make a documentary about the Trans* community in Cochabamba. I am working with Oscar, my direct boss in Communications at IDH, to film interviews with a lot of different people in the Trans* community. I am also going to the Pride march on June 30 to film. Tomorrow I have a meeting with a prominent Trans* activist here to talk more about logistics. The film is going to address discrimination in the health care system and discrimination at the societal level against Trans* individuals. I will surely be posting much more about it as the project develops!

Strangely Normal

Five Strange* Things About Bolivia:

1. The stray dogs. There are so many. Planted on every street corner. There is one that sits in front of my house all day ever day and looks ferocious.
2. The consumption of soda. This might actually be the same in the States, I don't know. But it's so weird to me that everyone drinks soda here instead of water. (Obvs. it's because the water here is not drinkable, but I am surprised that people substitute it with soda instead of something else)
3. Buses. Damn these Truffis. So many buses, no maps, no official routes, hella people, a lot of broken car doors.
4. The level of potato consumption. So. Many. Potatoes. Potatoes for days and days and days.
5. The response I have gotten from Bolivians who ask me where I am from. When I say United States I have gotten these responses thus far (all translated from Spanish to English):

Oh, what do you think about Barack Obama killing Osama Bin Laden?

You have really nice tripods... but they take too long to get here so we ordered ours from Israel.

You speak Spanish!?!

You are confused by the metric system, yes?

Five Relatively Normal** Things About Bolivia:

1. There is running, hot water, which I wasn't expecting (this is not a result of me being ignorant (for the most part), but a result of being told in our preparation class that there probably would not be). When I told my host mom I was surprised that all of our host families had hot water she was pretty shocked that I expected otherwise.
2. There are tacos here. Thank god.
3. Everyone is on facebook all the time. Walking past an internet cafe is like walking past Palo Alto's ideal advertisement.
4. There is a ton of political turmoil, almost entirely divided along socio-economic lines.
5. When I introduce myself to people, they have no idea what pronouns to refer to me with so they generally avoid talking to or about me at all costs.

*Strange in the context of me being a silly American.

**Normal in the context of things that I am used to.