The Role of Puerto Rican Churches in a State of Emergency

Editorial note: A Spanish version of this article was previously published in the Baptist Peacemaker Vol. 41, no. 4, December 2021.

“A cada minuto, a cada semana
nos roban amigas, nos roban hermanas
destrozan sus cuerpos, los desaparecen,
no olviden sus nombres, por favor, señor gobernante”

“Every minute, every week
they steal our friends, they steal our sisters
they destroy their bodies, they disappear them,
do not forget their names, please, Mr. Governor”
— “Canción sin Miedo” — Vivir Quintana

On January 25, 2021, the current governor of Puerto Rico, Pedro Pierluisi, declared a State of Emergency through an executive order in response to the rising number of gender-based violence cases on the island. This declaration had been a consistent and politically organized demand from various Afro-feminist groups since 2018—particularly through the political action of La Colectiva Feminista en Construcción.[1]  Feminist organizations’ demands became increasingly urgent when, in 2019 alone, 7,021 murders were reported, 5,896 of which were against women.[2] Consequently, the executive order mandated that as of July 1, 2021, every government agency would be required to allocate funds to comply with this new public policy.

The emergency declaration affirms that “both the laws and the public education system must embody essential principles of human equality.”[3] Yet, one must question the level of vocational commitment to public service with which Puerto Rico has been governed while women and LGBTQIA2S+ communities are victims of systematic and structural violence. Due to this intensification of violence, on March 8, 2021, the Coalición 8M[4] mobilized feminist organizations to the front of Puerto Rico’s Capitol to commemorate the struggle for equity—and present their demands directly to those responsible for implementing public policy. That day, the Barrileras del 8M[5] publicly read the names of the 44 women and transgender individuals murdered in the past year up to March 2021. Their cry was one of frustration, anger, anguish, but also of strategic political organization.

“Que tiemble el estado, los cielos, las calles
que tiemblen los jueces y los judiciales
hoy a las mujeres nos quitan la calma
nos sembraron miedo, nos crecieron alas”

“Let the state tremble, the heavens, the streets
let the judges and magistrates tremble
today they take away our peace
they planted fear in us, but we grew wings”
— “Canción sin Miedo” — Vivir Quintana

The colony breathes and exudes violence claimingthe lives of our sisters and friends. The two most recent and widely covered cases of gender-based violence in the media involved Andrea Ruiz Costas (35), murdered by her ex-partner, and Keishla Rodríguez Ortiz (27), who was one-month pregnant and was allegedly murdered by her ex-partner of 11 years. Both cases occurred in late April. They reveal systemic misogyny—a hatred of women and LGBTQIA2S+ communities that provides the foundation for both individual and structural machismo to continue claiming lives. In the case of Andrea Ruiz Costas, her death exposes the lack of urgency with which judges handle cases of assault and harassment. Andrea could not wait until July 1, 2021, when the measures outlined in the executive order were to be implemented.[6]

The issue of gender-based violence must be addressed in all its complexities, analyzing the many intersecting forms of violence that women in Puerto Rico face. As violence surged, in March, the Puerto Rican Senate held public hearings to discuss Bill 184, which proposed a ban on conversion therapies but was ultimately defeated with 8 votes against and 7 in favor. Conversion therapies aim to change the sexual orientation of children and adolescents through so-called “treatments” and have been classified as child torture by the Pan American Health Organization and others. The mere fact that a ban on what is considered torture was debated and defeated reveals how the state’s machismo and educational negligence manage issues of control and structural repression of sexuality.

In another display of colonial contradiction, in April 2021 the Senate of Puerto Rico finally approved Bill PS130, which recognizes some murders as femicide and transfemicide—sending the project to the House of Representatives for “evaluation” and eventual approval or dismissal. Ironically, legislation tends to address the consequences of gender-based violence rather than focusing on its prevention through early educational interventions.

In 2015, former Secretary of Education Rafael Román Meléndez signed a circular letter informing all public school teachers and the nation that a public policy would be implemented to integrate a gender-perspective curriculum in public schools. According to the letter, this curriculum was vital for addressing domestic violence, sexual abuse, and discrimination based on sexual orientation.[7] However, it was never implemented. In 2017, then-Governor Ricardo Rosselló Nevárez—who identified himself as a “Christian Catholic”—revoked it, arguing that his decision did not contribute to the rise in women’s deaths at the hands of their partners. He had also stated, upon winning the election, he would nullify it because “he could not exclude such a valuable sector as the church”—referring to the country’s more conservative Christian sector.[8] At the same time, he opposed the Department of Education’s decision allowing students to dress according to their gender identity.

Administration after administration, Puerto Ricans see ambivalent responses to calls for equity and sexual liberties. Gender-based education that ignores the cruelty of conversion therapy and the repression of diverse sexual orientations, while denying women the right to make decisions about their own bodies through the refusal to implement a gender perspective curriculum, is futile. Today, nearly a year after the declaration of the state of emergency, Puerto Rico continues to see a rise in femicides and transfemicides—crimes that often remain unresolved, leaving behind rage, grief, and collective despair. In this atmosphere of violence saturating the island, we must underscore that our colonial—state and local—government, along with religious sectors that refuse to promote equity for all, are complicit in perpetuating bureaucratic and religious systemic violence.

Gender-based violence under a colonial system is exacerbated when other ideological structures converge. Therefore, the violence experienced on the island must be addressed by examining its most fundamental causes: misogyny, homophobia, and transphobia sustained by heterosexist, classist, and racist norms. A state of emergency that does not commit to identifying how these colonial assemblages impact the violence we see will be extremely limited. It is also necessary, individually, collectively, and governmentally, to identify when faith-based conservative sectors hinder the struggle for equity—a struggle seeking to dismantle these violent structures. Afro-feminist groups in the island have also demanded that the separation of church and state be decisive and move beyond the colonial ambiguity of our constitution—which begins “placing our trust in Almighty God” and assumes Christianity as the normative religion.

In the twelve pages of the executive order, there is only one explicit mention of the strategic need to address gender-based violence within faith-based communities.[9] It calls upon “public servants, nonprofit organizations, and faith-based communities” to be “the front line in the defense against gender-based violence.”[10] What this order fails to consider, in relying on these entities to “eradicate” gender violence, is that many of these same communities oppose gender-based education and uphold imperialist and colonial theological foundations. When, under the guise of serving the Christian God, these communities tolerate misinformation, abuse, and the violent control of bodies, they merely reproduce the colonial abuse through which Christianity imposed itself on our shores. Addressing oppressive dynamics such as the control of diverse bodies in their sexual and gender expressions requires challenging doctrinal Christian models that perpetuate misogynistic and patriarchal legacies on the island. Many normative theological reflections focus solely on what supposedly unites us—“divinity”—while refusing to reflect on what makes us different and unique.

Therefore, faith-based communities are called to understand the intrinsic relationship between theological reflections and the colonial dynamics that continue to claim lives and fracture our society. In other words, gender-based education and a vocational/governmental commitment to addressing violence against women and LGBTQIA2S+ communities must also adopt decolonial, feminist, and anti-racist strategies. Likewise, theological reflections that exercise sexual control are indistinguishable from governmental actions that, under the Fiscal Control Board, seek to regulate sexualized and working bodies through capitalist exploitation. This article is a call to urgently address theological reflections grounded in sexual control, as they are explicit evidence of our colonial condition—a reality that various Afro-feminist groups identify and confront daily. And so, faced with a state of emergency that lacks urgency, we declare:

“Cantamos sin miedo, pedimos justicia
gritamos por cada desaparecida
que resuene fuerte ‘¡nos queremos vivas!’
que caiga con fuerza el feminicida”

“We sing without fear, we demand justice
we scream for every woman who disappeared
let it echo loudly ‘we want to stay alive!’
let the feminicide fall with force”
— “Canción sin Miedo” — Vivir Quintana

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[1] Génesis Gonzales Díaz, “Un año de alerta sin urgencia ni voluntad” 05/09/2020 Accessed 05/08/2021 https://www.todaspr.com/un-ano-en-alerta-sin-urgencia-ni-voluntad/

[2] Executive Order p.1

[3] Ibid. 3

[4] The Coalición 8 de Marzo was formed in 2009 to commemorate International Women’s Day. It brought together feminist and political organizations, as well as individuals, who collectively shaped the annual event that has taken place every year since.

[5] The Barrileras 8M is a group of women and non-binary firefighters from across the island, without distinction of skill level or professional affiliation, who share social and gender-related concerns. They use bomba culture as a tool of resistance and to make women’s struggles visible.

[6] “These measures must focus on the prevention of gender-based violence and on ensuring the safety of victims, as well as the effective prosecution of gender-based violence cases, especially those against women.” See more in: Executive Order, p. 3

[7] Noticel, “Perspectiva de género ya es ley en Educación (documento)” 02/26/2015 Accessed 05/08/2021 https://www.noticel.com/ahora/20150226/perspectiva-de-genero-ya-es-ley-en-educacion-documento/

[8] Univision, “Ricardo Rosselló opuesto a la perspectiva de género en las escuelas públicas,” 03/11/2016 Accessed: 05/08/2021 https://www.univision.com/local/puerto-rico-wlii/ricardo-rosello-opuesto-a-la-perspectiva-de-genero-en-las-escuelas-publicas

[9] Executive Order, p.2.

[10] Ibid.