Our Lady of Guadalupe holds immense significance for those of Mexican descent and has become synonymous with their culture. Her image on the Tilma is displayed in houses, churches, and festivals. She can represent motherhood and God’s love; historically, she symbolizes liberation. I do not have a memory without the image of Maria Guadalupe. As I grew, I learned of her story and historical impacts. As a theologian, I admire her historical significance and the movements she’s created. As a Mujerista, I strive to exemplify the hope she gave. And as a mother, I pray alongside her.

Through my work as a theologian, I have come to view Maria Guadalupe as the perfect symbol of decolonization. However, when approaching the topic, the Church is stuck in an odd place. Professor of Indigenous Studies, Glen Sean Coulthard, in Red Skins, White Masks, argues that “any strategy geared toward authentic decolonization must directly confront more than mere economic relations” (14). He points to all of the social and political organizations, systems, and structures that must be examined, and if necessary, eradicated. Some may view the Church’s controversies and overwhelming presence in present-day Mexico as an agent of ongoing colonization, but I believe you must separate the flawed men from the faith. Catholicism was introduced to the New World, distorted by the mechanisms of colonization. Imperial rule was justified through Catholicism, but its approach was one of violence. Carl Anderson, a Catholic writer and lawyer, in Our Lady of Guadalupe: Mother of the Civilization of Love, explains this relationship by stating, “the European justice system employed in Colonial Mexico and many of the ‘standards’ of holiness among Catholics often included severe punishments” (11). I believe the apparition of Maria Guadalupe was a direct response to this violence; a symbol that despite the sins committed under the guise of piety, salvation welcomed all. Like her, modern decolonization should seek to remove this distortion and assert the indigenous people as equal children of God.

We can start the process of decolonization by looking at the story of the apparition as told to us in the Nican Mopohua, the first known recording of an apparition of Maria Guadalupe, often credited to indigenous Nahua scholar Antonio Valeriano. It describes Maria as “[causing] herself to be seen by an Indian named Juan Diego, poor but worthy of respect” (1). Her choice of messenger is crucial. Had she appeared before a European-born settler, it would have reinforced their cultural superiority and cut off the indigenous people from the divine. Instead, she elevated them to spiritual equality. Carl Anderson also points out that, unlike the other Marian apparitions, Our Lady of Guadalupe’s “only words of spiritual guidance are her gentle but persistent reminders to Juan Diego about love…a love that gives dignity” (12). Through this, I believe Maria is telling us that decolonization must be done not with the tools of the conqueror, but with the compassion, empathy, and bravery of a humble farmer. This shifted the faith from the religion of the oppressors to the religion of the indigenous people.

As my relationship with Maria has grown, I’ve come to understand her in a different light. The image of Maria Guadalupe has a maternity band around her waist, signifying a mother about to give birth. She tells us that motherhood is a blessing. We all have a mother, and I believe we all strive to be a mother like Maria, not limited by our ability to have children, but by becoming a transformative presence in the lives of the ones we love. For me, this is an aspect of what it means to be a Mujerista. Ada Maria Isasi-Diaz in Mujerista Theology states, “Mujeristas understand that our task is to gather our people’s hopes and expectations about justice and peace” (61). At the same time, we must be strong in failure. Maria Guadalupe, while appearing pregnant, did the work that no man could. She, as a mother, made her son more accessible to us. She showed her bravery by giving us an image of herself that was uniquely identifiable to the indigenous people, and through this image, she gifted us better access to her son. Like how Moses led the Israelites out of slavery, Maria started the path to liberation.

I offer the following poem as a form of reflection upon how we choose to live our lives and how we will teach the future generation to live theirs: 

Making a Fist
By Naomi Shihab Nye

For the first time, on the road north of Tampico,
I felt the life sliding out of me,
a drum in the desert, harder and harder to hear.
I was seven, I lay in the car
watching palm trees swirl a sickening pattern past the glass.
My stomach was a melon split wide inside my skin.

“How do you know if you are going to die?”
I begged my mother.
We had been traveling for days.
With strange confidence she answered,
“When you can no longer make a fist.”

Years later I smile to think of that journey,
the borders we must cross separately,
stamped with our unanswerable woes.
I who did not die, who am still living,
still lying in the backseat behind all my questions,
clenching and opening one small hand.

Reverend Walter “Slim” Coleman led an adventurous life that we can all take inspiration from. He worked tirelessly all his life to bring justice into this world. He dedicated his youth activist work to the civil rights and antiwar movements.  

Although a Texas native, most of his work centered in the ChicagoLand area. He developed the People’s Information Center in Lincoln Park, which worked with multiple activist groups. Slim later went on to develop the Rainbow Coalition, a union of multiple racially diverse activist groups all under one roof fighting for one cause. He later organized the International Survival Committee (renamed the Heart of Uptown Coalition) that now focuses on meeting the community needs. 

He contributed to helping Harold Washington become Chicago’s first Black Mayor by organizing widespread voter registration efforts. Slim would go on to serve as Washington’s advisor during his term. On the side, he would help publish the bilingual “All-Chicago City News” newspaper. His efforts soon pivoted to the needs of the immigrant community in Chicago. It was during this time that he became a pastor. 

He helped start the sanctuary church movement, and his church became famous for offering sanctuary for Elvira Arellano. Slim later published Elvira’s Faith: The Grassroots Struggle for the Rights of Undocumented Families. This book detailed her time in sanctuary and provided commentary from the people who helped organize this movement. He also worked as an aid to U.S. Rep. Luis Gutierrez. Slim would also become the Director of the Familia Latina Unida Medical Reserve Corps, focused on keeping families together. 

His life is an example of living out your calling. He leaves behind a legacy full of hope for a better future. 

An image of the Virgin of Guadalupe. In her red shift with a blue, starry cloak over top, and a golden crown on her head, she is surrounded by golden light. On the borders are red, white, and golden flowers, and smaller images depicting her apparition to people.