This post is also available in: Spanish
“Christ is born in the Palacaguina of Chepe Pavon
To a Mary who will humbly iron
the clothes that delight the landowner’s beautiful wife
Those who have come to see him are gathered in a crowd;
Joaquin has brought a gift of braided cheese from Nagarote.”
—Carlos Mejía Godoy, “El Cristo de Palacaguina”
As I was preparing for a study weekend with SALT and YAMEN (“YALT”) participants with the theme “Working towards decolonization and interculturality,” I was tasked with preparing a reflection on the subject from a decolonial perspective. It turned out to be really challenging. As I started doing more research on the subject, it became clear that the colonial perspective was everywhere, even in the way we see our virgins and saints and other religious figures, who have always been represented according to a European standard of beauty—very far from a mestizo vision, or anything to what you might see here in Nicaragua.
Luckily, a theologian from the Costa Rican Anabaptist church named Jaime Prieto was in town while I was preparing this reflection, and with his help I was able to discover an intercultural theology. Jaime told me about the Black Christ of Esquipulas, located in Guatemala, with replicas all over Central America—and even some in the United States. I was surprised to learn that this Christ is venerated by many Christians in Central America, including here in Nicaragua, where he is celebrated on the 15th of January. Learning about the Black Christ of Esquipulas made me think about the resistance that is sometimes encountered in communities where indigenous identity was never fully eradicated by colonization, and where Christianity was incorporated into that identity instead. Recognizing that Christ can look like us and share our skin color is a powerful intercultural message, an acknowledgement that our Lord Jesus is present in all cultures, in all times, and identifies with our struggles and identities.
I think this realization is a first step in starting to relearn our history and identity. Historically, skin color has been associated with status. As many scholars have pointed out, this association arrived in the Americas with colonization. Before that, there was no sense that any one race should be considered inferior to another. When the conquistadors arrived, they referred to the indigenous people of the Americas as bodies “without a soul”, allowing them to justify some of the most inhuman and barbarous acts in all of history.
Sadly, this idea still resonates today. Even now, the closer you are to the European ideal, whether in your physical, social, or educational characteristics, the “better” or “more civilized” you are. In Latin America, this becomes “colorism,” in which people with darker skin are called “ugly” or “Indian,” while those with lighter or white skin are more likely to be seen as “beautiful” or “wealthy” and thus of a higher social status. And unfortunately, this rhetoric is repeated, subtly or otherwise, in our religious discourses, in family and political life—one example being, as I pointed out at the beginning, the way our symbols and collective imagination are filtered through a Eurocentric lens.
Photo by JD Rincs
A little while ago, I came across an interesting collection of paintings representing the Virgin Mary and baby Jesus with various shades of black and brown skin. I showed these paintings to the group of YALTers, and one of the group, Angelica Natareno, from Guatemala, told me it was the first time she had seen or even thought that the virgin could have dark skin. This surprise or cognitive dissonance could be a first step in embracing diversity. But still, I had some questions. Is it right that only a few people have the right to talk about this, or to break these paradigms? Wouldn’t it be better if recognizing our identities and histories, and taking steps to pass on different ideas, was a daily exercise practiced by everyone?
I believe it’s our responsibility to deconstruct ourselves and start constructing new paths towards an interculturality and diversity that is as beautiful as the rainbow, whose beauty is found in the splendor of its colors.
Wendy Vado is the Connecting Peoples Coordinator for MCC Nicaragua.