Women of Juárez

"Amalia Ortiz turned out an electrifying spoken-word piece. She eloquently expressed the anguish of sharing a profile with hundreds of women who have been raped, mutilated and slain..." -- San Antonio Express-News

"To go beyond entertaining and promote real activism," Amalia confronts the murders that continue just across the river. Her powerful poem is featured in The Line Between Us (2006). This grade-schools textbook teaches the border, immigration, and globalization. Used in teacher training at UCLA and other top programs. Order a copy from ground-breaking educational publisher, Rethinking Schools. Contact Amalia for an in-class or onstage presentation.

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Amnesty International report on the murders

Women of Juárez archived news reports

The Women of Juárez

at the West tip of Texas
a line divides us from them
and on the other side
they all look like me
yet on my side we sit passively nearby
while the other side allows a slow genocide
 
500 missing women
some claim more
some less
some dismissed as runaways
against parents protest
hundreds found dead
hundreds still missing
the exact count is a mystery
and those disappearing daily
they all look like me
 
I am a dead ringer
for an army of the dead
Mexico's slaughtered sisters
all slim
long dark hair
petite
some say pretty
my family would in my absence
all young
all lost
or dead
and they all look like me
 
some foolishly search for one serial killer
when bus and cab drivers
even cops are under suspicion
while the ever growing numbers reflect an entire society
where young women are expendable
young women like me
 
mothers recognize raped and mutilated remains
daughter's clothes with mismatched hu-man bones
DNA that doesn't match
those are her shoes
but that s not her hat
this shirt is my sister's
but those aren't her slacks
dumped like trash
burnt to ash
in the desert that keeps its secrets
 
one body found in the middle of the street
in a neighborhood not unlike mine
on this side of the line
I am alive
and my father reclines
in his retired military easy-chair bliss
of Ft. Bliss
 
Mom and Dad warn to be careful
but aren't overly concerned
when my brothers and I
cross from El Paso to Juárez
for late-night cheap college drink-a-thons
as long as we stay on the touristy paths
that may exploit
but do protect Americans and our American dreams
 
we are different
and even my parents don't seem to see
all those missing women
they all look like me
 
but I am told I am different
less Mexican
less poor
American thus worth more
different
 
yet all I can see are all the eerie
similarities
they all worked like I do
so many last seen
going to or coming from work
at US corporate owned maquiladoras
but I'm told this isn't an American issue
and I'm lucky here on the safe side
 
safe
yet not quite out of earshot of distant cries
of families searching ditches and roadsides
bearing snapshot after snapshot
of my brown eyes
 
Have you seen this girl?
She is my sister.
La has visto?
Es mi nina.
my baby
mi hermana
my wife
Have you seen her?
This face? Esta cara?
 
When you fit the profile of a predator's prey.
You can't help but take the crimes person-ally.
 
I am a symbol of those who survive.
mouth open in defiance of their silence
spared by a line in the sand
drawn between their grandfather
and mine
and if that line had fallen closer to home
somewhere between you and I
who would I be?
what would my worth be then?
and if silenced who would speak for me?