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When it comes to the golden age of Mexican cinema, Sara García Hidalgo, known simply as Sara García, stands out as one of the female figures who paved the way. She’s one of the icons of Mexican cinema, and her influence has spanned generations. García’s most well-known role wasn’t for movies, though, she’s most famous for being the face of the “Abuelita” Mexican-style hot cocoa by Nestle.
Mexico’s Abuelita
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With her gesture and presence, she defined the archetype of the loving abuelita who warmed your bones on cold winter nights and delivered comfort to millions of Latino families as they settled in for novelas or family gatherings. The nostalgia of a hot cup of Mexican hot chocolate is forever connected with García’s tender and welcoming face.
Her lengthy career of more than 100 films from titles like "En Defensa Propia" (1917) to "Sexo vs Sexo" (1979), showcased García’s prowess as an actress but even beyond her status as Mexico’s abuelita, García’s personal journey reveals a much more complex woman. There’s more to García than what she was able to show at the time.
Sara García’s Humble Beginnings
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Born into a modest family, Sara García's early life was defined by hardship and loss. She was the eleventh child of Isidoro García Ruíz, a Cordovan architect and sculptor, and Felipa Hidalgo Rodríguez. Her family traveled from Andalucía, Spain, to Cuba, and finally to Mexico. García came into the world in September 1895 on a ship during the family’s journey to Mexico City, and her birth was assisted by the González Cuenca family, who were fellow passengers. This family would play a key role in her life later on.
Unfortunately, García lost her father when she was only 5 years old. After that, her mother started working as a housekeeper and, at 9 years old, García entered the prestigious school “Las Vizcaínas.” During this time, the González Cuenca family supported García’s mother financially and morally. At 10 years old, García contracted typhoid and her mother was infected as well, but she didn’t survive, making García an orphan.
At that point, she became interned at the school and the González Cuenca family would take her home every week so she could spend time with their two daughters. At 14 years old, García became a substitute teacher for a drawing class. Eventually, she left the school and became a private teacher. When she started her acting career at 22, she was still a teacher.
Curiosity often kills the cat, but in this case, it’s actually what set García on her path. One day, she was strolling by the Alameda and she came upon the Azteca Films studios. It’s reported that she decided to go in and became fascinated by what she saw. That’s when the possibility of acting became real for her and she was determined to make it even if it was only in theater. Her journey began in the theater, where she honed her craft by learning from seasoned actors like Eduardo Arozamena. García's theatrical debut at the Fábregas Theater marked the beginning of a remarkable career that would later extend to the silver screen.
The Rise to Fame
Promotional image of the film 'En Defensa Propia' published on IMDB.
When García entered the Mexican cinema scene in the 20th century, the industry was booming. In 1917, she made her film debut in "En Defensa Propia," directed by Joaquín Coss. While her initial roles were modest, García's talent and dedication soon caught the attention of filmmakers, which led to bigger and better opportunities throughout the years. Slowly but surely, she was cementing her place in the Mexican film industry.
In 1934, García got her breakthrough moment with the role of an elderly woman in the play "Mi Abuelita la Pobre." She was so determined to get that part that she underwent a radical transformation. That transformation included the removal of 14 teeth so she would be more convincing. Today, we can see that as quite an extreme approach to method acting, but it paid off. García got the role and it earned her the kind of critical acclaim that established her as the quintessential abuelita figure in Mexican theater.
Sara García’s cultural impact
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Throughout the 1930s and 1940s, García's career reached new heights and she further solidified her status as Mexico’s abuelita. With movies such as "No te Engañes Corazón" (1937) and "Allá en el Trópico" (1940), she showcased her versatility as an actress. As a result, audiences across Mexico became enamored with her. Sadly, while 1940 was the year she got her first movie role playing an abuelita in “Allá en el Trópico,” it was also the year when she lost her daughter to typhoid.
García would continue her career and it was her role in "Cuando los Hijos se Van" (1941) alongside Fernando Soler that cemented her legacy as the best representation of maternal virtue and resilience. In that movie, she portrayed a devoted mother facing adversity, which resonated with audiences and elevated García into a national treasure. As Mexican cinema evolved in the post-war era, García continued to captivate audiences with her nuanced performances. From the comedic romps of the 1950s to the social dramas of the 1960s, García remained an enduring presence on screen, embodying many of the values that Latinos hold dear, such as family, sacrifice, and resilience.
García’s cultural impact was established even further and went beyond Mexican cinema when she became the official face of the “Abuelita” hot chocolate from Nestle in 1973. She was chosen because she embodied the brand’s mission perfectly–bringing families together. Having captured the hearts of Mexicans and earning the public’s affection through her movies, García’s persona fit the brand’s essence like a glove. Her face was already a symbol of warmth and that was beautifully captured in the brand’s logo, which shows García in traditional grandmother clothes, with a sweet smile and a cup of hot cocoa in her hands. Today, the “Abuelita” logo continues to honor García and is a symbol that keeps her legacy alive, immortalizing her as a beloved icon of Mexican culture.
García’s Double Life
Like many celebrities of this time, while García was building her status as a Mexican icon, aspects of her private life and identity had to remain in the shadows. It wasn’t openly known at the time, but García was a lesbian. She found the love of her life in Rosario González Cuenca, one of the daughters of the González Cuenca family, who would be her lifelong partner and confidante.
However, before she spent a part of her life with González Cuenca, García was married to a man, actor Fernando Ibañez. They got married in 1917, 3 months after meeting each other, and 3 years later, they welcomed a daughter, Sara Fernanda Amada Mercedes Ibañez García. Shortly after that, they got divorced and García started the balancing act of pursuing her acting career while also caring for her daughter and educating her.
As fate would have it, García stumbled upon her childhood friend Rosario González Cuenca at a corset shop while she was shopping for costumes for a play. In the biography about Sara García written by Fernando Muñoz, he stated, “Sara returned to the bosom of the González Cuenca family. Rosario and Sara made a pact of honor, love, fraternity, and indissoluble sisterhood.” González Cuenca was also divorced when they reunited and they became inseparable from then on, spending almost 60 years together. Despite the societal constraints at the time, which required discretion, García and González Cuenca shared a bond that transcended friendship.
Sara García's passing on November 21, 1980, at the age of 85, marked the end of an era in Mexican cinema, but her legacy endures not just as a movie icon, but as a Latina woman. Rosario González Cuenca was her only heir and she passed 3 years later in 1983, at the age of 87. She died alone but surrounded by the memories of the life she shared with García.
While the life she shared with the woman she loved was a quiet one, a look back on Sara García’s life underscores the strength it took to live authentically, even if it was behind closed doors. The Abuelita staring back at you from that Mexican chocolate package is a reminder that love is love and is raising a hot cup of chocolate to toast to that.
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Bolivia’s western Andes is known for its deep valleys, towering mountains, and breathtaking landscapes. However, the most interesting thing about it is that it’s home to a remarkable group of women challenging long-standing gender norms.
Bolivian “Cholitas,” known for their iconic pollera skirts, aguayo embroidered cloth, and high bowler hats, are empowered Indigenous women carving out spaces for themselves that were once inaccessible. Through mountain climbing, skateboarding, and martial arts, they’re defying patriarchal structures and reclaiming their identities.
Mountain climbing: Cholitas conquering heights
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Cecilia Llusco, an Aymara woman, is one of many Cholitas leading the charge against societal conventions. Raised in Bolivia’s mountains, Llusco’s connection with them runs deep. From her early years assisting her father, a high mountain guide, to going on her own climbing journeys, she’s known for her resilience and determination. She has become a high mountain guide, following in her father’s footsteps while still making the road her own.
The Cholita Climbers
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“The Cholita Climbers,” as they're known, refuse to be bound by traditional gender roles. Scaling Huayna Potosí and setting their sights on Everest, they're not just climbing mountains; they're shattering stereotypes. Lidia Huayllas, the group's elder stateswoman and deputy mayor, is leading by example, inspiring generations of women to pursue their dreams despite the odds. The journey of The Cholita Climbers is not just defined by an impressive list of physical feats, but also by a deep sense of cultural pride.
Skateboarding: Cholitas redefining spaces
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In the streets of Cochabamba, the Imilla Skate collective stands out for all the right reasons. Led by Dani Santiváñez, this group of bold young women is rewriting the script of skateboarding. With their vibrant, traditional clothes, they challenge conventional ideas of femininity and athleticism, presenting a much more interesting and empowering alternative.
The Imilla Skate collective
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The Imilla Skate collective has transformed neglected spaces, making them vibrant and exciting again. They’re not just skaters, they’ve reclaimed their right to public spaces and fostered strong community bonds. Their influence even goes beyond the streets of Cochabamba, rippling across the nation. Their message is clear: women belong in skate parks, and their presence is non-negotiable. By taking this stance, they're helping amplify indigenous voices and reshape perceptions of what it means to be a skateboarder.
Self-defense: Cholitas against gender-based violence
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Faced with the issue of gender-based violence, Bolivian Cholitas are refusing to stay silent any longer. Lidia Mayta, a woman who was violently attacked by would-be robbers at her front door, has turned to martial arts as a tool for empowerment. Not only of herself but of other women in the community who are tired of being victimized and afraid.
In Bolivia, over 53% of women experience physical or sexual violence. Despite the high prevalence of gender-based violence, prevention services often lack knowledge about disabilities, limiting access to information and care, and leaving women to fend for themselves. Shockingly, only 1% of gender-based violence cases are prosecuted and convicted.
Warmi Power taekwondo studio
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In this context, taekwondo studios like Warmi Power offer a sanctuary for women to learn self-defense techniques and reclaim their sense of agency. Beyond physical training, these spaces serve as platforms for solidarity and collective action against gender-based violence. Mayta found this space to learn taekwondo and she’s now one of their main facilitators, dedicated to introducing women to the transformative power of martial arts.
Self-defense techniques
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By teaching women with the skills to defend themselves, organizations like Warmi Power are challenging the culture of impunity and fostering a culture of accountability. Their message is clear: violence against women will not be tolerated, and every woman has the right to feel safe in her community.
Bolivian Cholitas are leading a new chapter in their history
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The stories of Bolivian Cholitas scaling mountains, mastering skateboards, and learning self-defense are not just individual victories; they’re part of a larger change that will ripple for generations to come. Through their actions, these women are rewriting the script of gender norms and reclaiming their rightful place in society. As they continue to challenge stereotypes, they inspire communities in Bolivia and around the world to rise and take up space. Bolivian Cholitas are shaping history, one challenge at a time.
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La Malinche is one of the most well-known historical figures and representatives of indigenous women in Mexico. Also known as Maltintzin, Malinalli, or Doña Marina (as the Spanish called her), she was known as Hernán Cortés’s translator during the Spanish conquest. As a result, La Malinche has been perceived as a traitor to her own people, something that has been memorialized in Mexican slang. Being called a “malinchista” is the same as being called disloyal or a traitor to one’s country and culture.
However, it’s important to remember that we know very little of her life or her experiences as Cortés’s translator from her perspective. Instead, her story has been consistently appropriated, retold, and altered in post-colonial Mexico by intellectuals and their political agendas.
If a truly thoughtful analysis is the end goal, different lenses should be considered when looking at historical figures. La Malinche is no exception to that. Rather than revisiting the narrative of betrayal, what would it look like to consider her life through the lens of resistance, resilience, intelligence, and survival?
La Malinche 101: Who Was She?
Malinche started as a domestic slave to Cortés, but since she dominated the Mayana, Nahuatl, and Spanish languages, she quickly became indispensable to the Spanish conquistador as an interpreter. Her role focused on facilitating communication, but she wasn’t just a translator, she was compelling and gifted at creating political connections.
This is how she became caught between two empires.
Many accounts speak of how she became Cortés’ lover as well, but there’s nothing that indicates there was actual love between them or that Malinche was a willing participant. Whether or not she was helpful to Cortés, she was still a slave. But what’s known for sure is that they had a physical relationship, which resulted in a son and one of the first mestizos, Martín Cortés.
Where the “Traitor” Label Comes From
The most interesting thing about Malinche is that she was adaptable and resilient. Those characteristics drove her decisions, which then made her the perfect figure to bear the brunt of the responsibility. What cemented her perception as a traitor is that she saved the Spaniards from an ambush by the Cholulans. She did this by sharing information given to her by the wife of a native leader. Malinche was offered safety if she went with them, but she decided to deliver the information to Cortés.
That led the Spanish conquistador to massacre the people of Cholula and march directly to the capital of the Aztec Empire. But was she really a traitor, or was she just doing what she was taught to do? Even if Malinche is recognized as an intelligent and resourceful woman, it’s important to keep in mind she was bred to obey.
Before she was gifted to Cortés, she had been a slave for years and from an early age. Betrayed by her own people and family, it’s easy to see how it became her nature to serve her master, whoever that may be. Does that mean that, in sharing that information, she wished for the Cholula massacre or the subsequent fall of the Aztec empire? The truth is, we can’t know her intentions for sure. The issue with that is no room has been left for interpretation because scholars, through the centuries, have negatively defined her intentions.
Was La Malinche Really a Traitor or Just a Woman Trying to Survive?
There’s no denying that La Malinche’s influence on Cortés was profound and she played a role in his success, gaining status herself. She helped Cortés form alliances and uncover plots, and she was also his consort. It’s also undeniable that there are no records regarding how she felt about the role she was forced to play.
She was easily written off as a traitor, but it’s not a matter of black and white. There are too many factors to consider about the complexity of her life. While some of her actions can be interpreted as treacherous, it’s important to remember that her negotiations saved her people from violence before the Cholula massacre, and the Aztecs respected her for that.
Despite her vilification, La Malinche’s legacy is a clear example of resilience, resistance, intelligence, and the transcending of simplistic narratives that have surrounded her story. She has immense significance in Latino history and more nuanced conversations about who she was have sprouted through the years.
La Malinche: A Misunderstood Icon
The life of La Malinche took place between two opposite sides of a global conflict. She was a trafficked girl and enslaved young woman who used the skills she had to survive. To discuss her story in black and white is a disservice to her and how women are defined in history - if they’re included at all.
Through a decolonized and feminist lens, it’s possible that she wasn’t just a temptress or a selfish traitor, but rather a complex woman who existed at a very complex time and who, like any other human, could have had both selfish and selfless virtues. What’s universally accepted, however, is that she was forced into a complicated role, and that complexity is what has enabled her to rise as an icon in history.