Equality, Identity, and Healthcare: Reincorporation and Reintegration in Colombia of Female FARC Ex-Combatants

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Colombia of Female FARC Ex-Combatants

Arianna Delphine Injeian

University of Amsterdam

Master’s Program: Medical Anthropology and Sociology

2019-2020

Supervisor: Dr. Danny de Vries, PhD (UvA)

Field Supervisor: Gustavo Rojas-Páez (Universidad Libre De Bogotá)

Second Reader: Dr. Bregje de Kok, PhD (UvA)

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frameworks of intersectionality, structural violence and governmentality/biopower. I conducted seven interviews, both in groups and one-on-one, attended ten meetings with FARC members (both in person and virtually) and attended two conferences regarding the current peace process. I was based in Bogotá, Colombia and affiliated with the Universidad Libre de Bogotá. My research aimed to answer the question of how female ex-combatants reclaim identity, equality and sufficient healthcare services during this transitional period, but during fieldwork the COVID-19 pandemic hit Colombia. As a result, the context of this research in regard to the current experiences of female ex-combatants during reintegration shifted. I argue that in response to my research question, reclamation of identity and equality is not the case. Instead, the data I obtained showed that female ex-combatants express a sense of pride and community in their identities that developed during the insurgency and are not reclaiming a past identity.

Furthermore, I argue that the reintegration process is not necessarily what is occurring, rather there is a transition from an armed militia to a socio-political party. As a result, there is a fear for female ex-combatants that the negotiations agreed upon in the peace accord that allow for just and peaceful reintegration will not occur. During the pandemic this fear was further exacerbated,

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but despite the efforts of the government to undermine the peace process, female ex-combatants continue to fight for the safety and protection of their comrades.

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Acknowledgments

First and foremost, I would like to express my sincere gratitude to the ex-combatants I had the privilege to interact with during this research. The hope, perseverance and continued fight through times of severe turmoil of the many women I spoke with encouraged me to share their stories with a passion. My appreciation for their continued work is unwavering.

I would also like to thank those who guided me throughout my research journey,

specifically the support of Gustavo Rojas-Páez at the Universidad Libre de Bogotá, and those at the University of Amsterdam, Danny de Vries, Kristine Krause and Yvette Jansen. Their

continued supervision and involvement encouraged my motivation to persevere despite roadblocks.

Lastly, I would like to thank my friends and family for their appreciation and support throughout. It has been a pleasure to share this experience with them and learn from them. I am grateful for the ceaseless support and excited for what is to come.

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Introduction

For months now I begin almost every conversation when meeting new people with the overview of my research topic; I study female ex-combatants in the FARC and the process of reintegration and reincorporation. This being the short and sweet digestible sentence that will not overwhelm my new acquaintance. For those with more time on their hands or an interest in some keywords, perhaps they had read a news article on the FARC at some point and are excited by the chance to give their two cents, I delve a bit deeper.

A simple sentence does not do this complex topic its due justice, and my excitement soars when asked to expand. I begin to explain the intricacies of gender rights in the context of a Latin American society rooted in machismo culture1, the societal contradiction of having a large

percentage of female insurgents in a war group, and the basic human rights taken from those trying to start new lives post-conflict. One cannot begin to comprehend this from one sentence. As the physician and academic Havelock Ellis once said, “a man must not swallow more beliefs than he can digest” (The Dance of Life, 1929).

1 Machismo is a psychocultural phenomenon in which aggression is exaggerated and manifested in society by the

submission of women by men. This can be seen in society with men having sexual freedom, physical/economic/social dominance, and more opportunities (Giraldo, 1972:295).

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Who Are the FARC-EP?

Fuerzas Armadas Revolucionarias de Colombia - Ejército del Pueblo:

Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia - People's Army.

In 1964, violence in the form of guerrilla warfare broke out and Colombia entered a new era that became one of the most influential the country would experience. South America was not new to structural violence, guerrilla warfare and rebellion groups. It was during the time of La Violencia between 1948 and 1964, when over 200,000 citizens were killed by the government in rural areas of Colombia (Turel, 2013; Leech, 2011; Molano, 2000:24). In addition to this high death count, roughly one million people were displaced from their homes (Turel, 2013). When the FARC were initially established, the combatants predominantly included civilians who were displaced and subject to unequal land distribution throughout the country; the majority of combatants being farmers. Over time, the FARC grew and the Marxist-Leninist ideologies common throughout Latin America encouraged a major uprising of this progressively more active and violent group (Theidon, 2016:51).

To provide a full picture of the FARC and their development, it is important to also address their political ideologies, as well as the theoretical lenses I will use. The FARC grew from a predominately peasant class and followed the Marxist-Leninist ideals of agrarianism and anti-imperialism. Although over time the FARC have revised their political standing to adapt to the times, the Marxist-Leninist ideology of the FARC works to overcome the structural violence by the government which manifests by capitalization of their farms and other resources that contribute to the poverty seen throughout Colombia (Brittain, 2010:3). The FARC quickly found

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that they could not overcome these harsh political methods by the government through peaceful and legal means, and as a result, they formed into a violent armed militia (Molano, 2007).

Within the FARC, structural violence is inflicted by the mass displacement of Colombian citizens by the government, the exploitation of farms, and the physical violence that is

continuously performed by the government and paramilitary groups2. Structural violence can be

defined as social and economic forces that shape failure for (predominantly) marginalized people (Farmer, 2009). The exploitation of farms, limited access to healthcare, poor education and scarce resources to those in rural areas are all examples of structural violence against the people of Colombia (UNHCR, Spindler, 2017). The country sets marginalized citizens up for failure by not providing them with the economic and social support that they need. If they were able to obtain beneficial resources and financial stability, then perhaps conflict would be less frequent (Theidon, 2009:13). I will next introduce the issues of physical violence that are seen widely throughout the country.

As I write this, we are in the midst of the Black Lives Matter movement, which gained major traction after the death of George Floyd in Minneapolis on May 25th, 2020. As an

American myself, my pain and outrage are at an all-time high. This is not new or foreign

behavior, this is happening every day and it happens everywhere, also in Colombia. According to United Nations Special Reporter Michael Forst: “Colombia is the country with the highest rate of assassinations for human rights defenders” (March 2020). One of the major issues being faced in

2 Colombian paramilitary groups are offensive armies opposed to Marxist-Leninist ideals. They conduct the majority

of drug trafficking throughout the country, cultivating coca and supplying the US with cocaine, fueling a never-ending cycle of violence (Tate, 2011).

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Colombia is the lack of responsibility and consequences for violent actions. Between 2016 and 2019, roughly 570 social leaders were killed in Colombia (EFE, 2020). Since June 1st, 150 social

leaders have already been killed just in 2020 alone, with an additional eight deaths of those in relation to social leaders and 25 deaths of ex-combatants (Indepaz, 2020). Violence is escalating during a time of supposed peace negotiations and disarmament. I will continue to elaborate on the issues of violence between the FARC and government throughout this research, and again in the context of COVID-19. The following section will specifically describe the current healthcare situation in Colombia. A later section is dedicated to the theoretical frameworks used to analyze the current situation and the collected data.

Healthcare in Colombia

When living in New York City, whether a scratchy throat or a broken foot, I could simply open the handy ZocDoc app on my phone to schedule a same day doctor’s appointment. No sweat would drip down my temples as I would be comforted by the safety of my insurance. Now living in the Netherlands, I am even more at ease with the affordability and universal coverage of the healthcare system. It surpasses the already decent services I accessed in the United States. To me, this is normal or at least expected, but as I recommended to my friend in Colombia that he see a doctor for his persistent headaches, he laughed in my face.

Colombia’s healthcare system comprises both a social security and private sector. According to the World Health Organization (WHO) in 2020, “The backbone of the system is the General Social Security Health System, which has two plans, contributory and subsidized; workers from certain institutions (5.4%) are covered by a third plan. The contributory regime

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covers salaried workers, pensioners, and independent workers, with the subsidized plan covering anyone who cannot pay.” Unfortunately, these healthcare systems are unjust and rarely protect and properly serve the citizens of Colombia.

Care is an ongoing struggle within Colombia and it is important to note the intense polarization within the country. This polarization goes deeper than it does in many other places. When comprehensive healthcare is reserved for only the higher echelon of society, what

becomes of a state when that is only the minority percentage of citizens? In a later section, I will speak to the healthcare services that were provided to my informants within the FARC and the ways in which the peace process negotiations have handled healthcare reform for ex-combatants. In the next section I will explore more deeply the current peace process and what that means for reincorporation and reintegration of female FARC ex-combatants, including a description of literature in regard to healthcare systems within the insurgency.

Call for Peace

In 2016 a ceasefire was announced under President Juan Manuel Santos, and a peace treaty was drawn. This marked the beginning of a new fight to put an end to the years of power the FARC has wielded and the violence they have incited. Since then, the Colombian

government has begun the process of reincorporation and reintegration of ex-combatants via the Agency of Reincorporation and Normalization (ARN). The ARN defines both reincorporation and reintegration on their government website. Reincorporation, as defined by the ARN, is the process that takes place prior to reintegration. This process is supervised by two government representatives and two former FARC combatants. The reincorporation plan assists in the

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transition of FARC combatants into camps called zonas veredales3, and then further assists in transitioning combatants from said camps into the reintegration process. This reintegration takes place in major cities throughout Colombia (ARN, 2019). Reintegration is the process of assisting combatants who have demobilized from “Organized Armed Groups Operating Outside of the Law”, have not participated in heinous crimes against humanity, and are seeking help to

effectively reintegrate into Colombian society (ARN, 2019). I will be referring to reincorporation and reintegration in the context of the definitions put forth by the ARN.

The FARC peace process is of great significance in Colombia as the negotiations will change all aspects of society. As the government is striving to demobilize and reintegrate tens of thousands of combatants, transitional justice has been a driving force in establishing a just and viable plan4. As a result, the Disarmament, Demobilization and Reintegration (DDR) process

was established, the goal of which is to ensure the rights of citizens while also creating a safe and productive environment to incorporate demobilized combatants (Torres et. al, 2009). This

process is most important regarding the reintegration and reincorporation of women, with an additional focus on the healthcare structure in place to support female ex-combatants. Given that women held positions of authority in the FARC and have a myriad of skills, the DDR outlines ways that women can still use those skills as they reintegrate, such as filling positions of police officers or security (Ní Aoláin, 2009:1075).

3 According to the Colombian Health Department (Minsalud), Las Zonas Veredales Transitorias de Normalizacion

are temporary areas for combatants as they disarm and demobilize.

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For both men and women, the reintegration process back into society will be a

challenging one, but they will experience these challenges differently (Gindele & Rojas-Páez). The stigma that women faced both in and out of the FARC will stay with them in different ways. The DDR is a vital component of this transition because it is working to ensure that female combatants are treated with the respect and regard they obtained during war (Gjelsvik, 2010; Theidon, 2009). Although the DDR does attempt to ensure equality, the government has been neglecting to follow through with the promises they have made during the peace treaty (Worley, 2018; Mendez, 2012; ICTJ, 2020; Gjeselvik, 2010).

Although this research looks at exploring the successful reincorporation and reintegration of female FARC ex-combatants, it is worth mentioning that the FARC has participated in illicit activities, inflicted severe violence and taken the lives of innocent people outside of the FARC (Stanford CISAC, 2020; Molano, 2007; Theidon, 2009). Additionally, female combatants have been subjected to various kinds of violence from within the FARC during the insurgency (Gjelsvik, 2010; Herrera & Porch, 2008).

The primary themes of this research include identity, equality and access to sufficient healthcare services. These themes will all focus specifically on the experience of female FARC ex-combatants. In Gjelsvik’s ethnography examining women from three Colombian guerrilla groups, she found that many female FARC combatants alluded to being treated with a higher level of equality and equity, more so than they had experienced in mainstream society (2010). Although the composition of the FARC includes a high percentage of women, 40% (Alpert, 2016), during the reincorporation and reintegration processes, women are being poorly

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accounted for in the context of being a woman and are rather suffering by being grouped homogeneously with men (Mendez, 2012:232). This is an issue during the process of peace negotiations as the overlapping characteristics of female ex-combatants, including, but not limited to, their gender, ethnicity, trauma inflicted within the armed rebellion, and socio-economic class, leave them in most part at the will of a male dominated government

administration and a machismo culture that does not support female ex-combatants (Theidon, 2009; ICTJ, 2020; Gjelsvik, 2010).

In the context of health, the FARC has a relatively successful underground healthcare system. This provided basic healthcare services to combatants in the FARC and was led by medical professionals that also served as combatants (Eccarius-Kelly, 2012; Worley, 2018). The peace treaty established in 2016 promised that when demobilized, ex-combatants would have complete access to Colombian public healthcare. Despite these provisions in the treaty, ex-combatants have not received the proper health benefits promised to them by the government (Worley, 2018). As a result, trust is still unable to be formed between the government and FARC. It is unclear how the changes promised to them will impact healthcare accessibility, particularly in the female population (Gjelsvik, 2010).

Research Question

My initial research question is drawn from an absence of acknowledgement regarding the lack of experience women within the FARC and women as Colombian citizens in general have in the context of their own identities. There is also limited research on how the healthcare system

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will accommodate demobilized combatants. As a result of these research disparities, I address the question;

How are female FARC ex-combatants reclaiming identity, equality, and sufficient access to healthcare services during the reincorporation and reintegration processes amongst

perceptions by the general public?

I additionally argue that the current state of the peace negotiations no longer creates a viable reintegration process in which female ex-combatants can successfully participate. Although I make this case, I further argue that despite issues with the peace agreement, a stronger sense of community and identity is formed amongst FARC ex-combatants.

Available literature, such as the DDR, describes potential pathways for the current peace process and the many barriers that the government is trying to maneuver around to ensure a smooth transition for demobilized combatants. Although this research provides vital information on the process at hand, there is minimal ethnographic literature that has begun to address the current state of the peace process and neglect of the negotiations in the accord. Colombia’s socio-political structure is changing as a result of the transformation of the FARC as an armed militia to a political group. Furthermore, the current literature that investigates how the

healthcare system will accommodate demobilized female combatants is yet to fully include the intersecting identities of these women and the current issues in the context of the COVID-19 pandemic.

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In the following section, I explore the theoretical frameworks of intersectionality, governmentality and biopower. I will further describe the framework of intersectionality of identities and the effects they have on female ex-combatants by addressing transitional justice and identity politics. The section on governmentality and biopower also touches on necropolitics. Although transitional justice, identity politics and necropolitics are addressed, these are not part of the central theoretical framework used to fully analyze the collected data, rather they are meant to provide additional material to elaborate on the processes of reincorporation and

reintegration in Colombia. I aim to put forth a theoretical and conceptual framework that will be continuous throughout this research.

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Theoretical Framework

Intersectionality

Throughout this research, intersectionality, transitional justice, and identity politics5 take

center stage. In the context of my research, transitional justice is used to address the atrocities of conflict and the reparations during reintegration. The ICTJ (2020) defines transitional justice as referring “to the ways countries emerging from periods of conflict and repression address large-scale or systematic human rights violations so numerous and so serious that the normal justice system will not be able to provide an adequate response.” Historically, approaches to transitional justice have not adequately addressed the experiences of women; “there was a pervasive silence regarding violence against, harm, and the degradation of women up until the mid-1990s.” (Chappel, Gender and Transitional Justice: A Training Module Series p.11). This has begun to change as more attention is directed at acknowledging the harm specifically inflicted upon women.

I situate my research within this trend by drawing on Kimberlé Crenshaw’s theory of intersectionality. Having coined the term intersectionality, Crenshaw identified that a myriad of social identities can contribute to the suppression of people. Crenshaw looked at issues of race, gender identity, sexual orientation, and social status, just to name a few. Her concept of

intersectionality was employed to, “...highlight the ways in which social movement organization

5 The Combahee River Collective (CRC), a Black feminist group from the early 1970s, defined and clarified identity

politics. This collective framed identity politics as a commitment to struggle against “racial, sexual, heterosexual, and class oppression” (CRC, 1975). Furthermore, their task is to develop an integrated “analysis and practice based upon the fact that the major systems of oppression are interlocking. The synthesis of these oppressions creates the conditions of our lives” (CRC, 1975).

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and advocacy around violence against women elided the vulnerabilities of women of color, particularly those from immigrant and socially disadvantaged communities” (Crenshaw et al., 2013:304).

Putting this in the context of my research, one of the biggest issues within the FARC arises from mass displacement of low socio-economic communities, many of which are families, women, and ethnic minorities such as indigenous and Afro-Colombian peoples who are racially persecuted. In 2014, Colombia was noted as the country with the most internally displaced persons globally (Wirtz et al., 2014:2). According to the United Nations (UN) Refugee Agency (2017), forced displacement is still occurring after the FARC have demobilized. Over 11,000 people were displaced in 2017, and those most affected are Afro-Colombian and indigenous people who make up 10% and 3%, respectively, of this number. Government and paramilitary groups are responsible for this mass displacement, their goal being to obtain land and exploit farmland for crops (UNHCR, Spindler, 2017). I make note of the Afro-Colombian and indigenous combatants because these women are considered minorities and are potentially perceived with more judgment in Colombian society, especially when their ethnicity is compounded by FARC membership. They also have fewer resources, such as land and healthcare, when they reintegrate due to the unequal land distribution they have and are still facing (Meertens, 2015).

The concept of intersectionality begins to discredit single-axis dynamics when engaging in topics of violence, displacement, oppression, etc. (Cho et al., 2013:787). Intersectionality is a vital concept to incorporate in my research because rarely, if ever, is it that one figure or

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institution is responsible for the myriad of issues an individual may or may not experience. In Crenshaw’s work, Demarginalizing the Intersection of Race and Sex: A Black Feminist

Critique of Antidiscrimination Doctrine, Feminist Theory and Antiracist Politics (1989), she

shows the importance of addressing the many overlapping identities that people face in the context of structural violence. Her work focuses on acts of discrimination-- but one can be discriminated against, profiled and flagged on the basis of many identifiers. Throughout this research, the framework of intersectionality is employed to examine the identity of former female combatants during war and while transitioning during the reincorporation and reintegration processes.

Crenshaw shows that intersectionality is not solely linked to structural violence, but also to identity politics. The subordination of women in Colombia prior to, during and after the war must be seen not only in the context of violence against women and their continued struggle, but also in the context of the naturally machismo political-social environment these women will reintegrate into. Crenshaw notes that, “Recognizing that identity politics takes place at the site where categories intersect thus seems more fruitful than challenging the possibility of talking about categories” (1991:1299).

Research has shown that instead of sticking to a female identity and body in war, female combatants protect rather than reject the conservative body conformation imposed on them (Viterna, 2014). A quote from Herrera and Porch notes that, “females occupy critical operational, tactical and social roles in the FARC. They may even be said to comprise the lynchpin of the FARC organization, without whom the FARC could not survive as a rural

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insurgency” (2009). Despite this, power did not carry over into autonomy over their bodies, and rather many women were subject to sexual gender-based violence (Gjelsvick, 2010).

Regarding the complexities guerrilleras in Colombia face:

“not only the challenges of overcoming the stigma as an ex-combatant and starting a new life but also the changes expected of them in terms of their feminine identities, e.g. where they change from a warrior to a traditional housewife. Women find themselves adopting an identity corresponding to society’s view of masculinity” (Gindele & Rojas-Páez, pp 228).

Female identity within Colombian society and in the FARC can be considered very different, but this identity is constantly being defined in the context of a patriarchal and machismo society (Gjelsvik, 2010).

Within the FARC and cross-culturally, it becomes apparent that instead of emphasizing femininity, there is a notion to protect rather than reject conservative gender norms. In El Salvador, for example, rather than promoting progressive notions of female identities, the Salvadoran insurgents mostly relied on conservative identities and roles to facilitate the mobilization of women into the armed movement, especially with regard to the rural

population (Viterna, 2013). Viterna’s work examined the absence of female empowerment in Salvadoran insurgency, empowerment that would push female combatants to stand out as their own beings. Instead, the conservative identities represent a masculine homogeneity as opposed

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to a distinction between female and male identities (Viterna, 2013; Stanski, 2006:143). This absence of distinction affects how female FARC ex-combatants reintegrate by continuing to group them with men, thereby neglecting to address the specific needs of women (Bell & O’Rourke, 2007:34). By neglecting intersectionality in this context, female ex-combatants do not receive the proper assistance as they reintegrate, and I argue that as a result, reintegration may be unsuccessful or the peace negotiations that have set the stage for reintegration will fall through (Bell & O’Rourke, 2007; Theidon 2009; Gjelsvik, 2010).

Within the FARC and throughout Colombia, there are constant overlaps of gender, race, socio-economic status, past experiences/trauma, and occupation, all of which can create additional dynamics of oppression and barriers to receiving fundamental human rights (Bell & O’Rourke, 2007:27). By neglecting intersectionality in this context, female ex-combatants do not receive the proper assistance as they reintegrate, and I argue that as a result, reintegration may be unsuccessful or the peace negotiations that have set the stage for reintegration will fall through (Bell & O’Rourke, 2007; Theidon 2009; Gjelsvik, 2010).

Subsequently, the theoretical frameworks of governmentality and biopower are used to explore the ways in which the governing bodies within Colombia affect the reincorporation and reintegration processes for female ex-combatants. These Foucauldian theories provide context for the ways in which the Colombian government is the sovereign body that holds dominance over female ex-combatants.

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Governmentality and Biopower

Alongside intersectionality, the theoretical frameworks of governmentality and

biopower will be discussed in this section to further analyze the data collected in the following chapters. These frameworks are put forth by Michel Foucault. After writing The History of

Sexuality in 1976, Foucault’s concepts and theories began to explore the governmentality

similar to Marx’s perspectives. Famous for his theories of knowledge and power, Thomas Lemke speaks to the ideas developed by Foucault:

“The semantic linking of governing (gouverner) and modes of thought (mentalité) indicates that it is not possible to study the technologies of power without an analysis of the political rationality underpinning them. But there is a second aspect of equal importance. Foucault uses the notion of government in a comprehensive sense geared strongly to the older meaning of the term and adumbrating the close link between forms of power and processes of subjectification” (Lemke, 2002:50).

Foucault found that concepts of governmentality and biopower incorporated both

sovereignty and Marxist values of class ruling. Although these are two discrepant concepts, they share the idea that “power is something that can be possessed” (Foucault 1980, 78-109). This possession of power can be linked to a centralized state and repressive actions. As his interest and exploration into government power relations grew, Foucault began to curate his own definition of government and governmentality, ‘the conduct of conduct.’ Foucault framed

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government as ‘the conduct of conduct’ because he felt that “government” is inept in the realm of self-control or guidance. Therefore, the ‘conduct of conduct’ can encompass the need to govern the self or governing of others (Foucault, 1982:220-1; Lemke, 2002:2). Foucault defines governmentality as government or some activity working to guide the conduct of a population (Gordon, 1991:2). In the context of my research, Foucault’s theory of

governmentality and biopower is used to better understand the function of the state-run reintegration process by examining changes constantly made by the government to the peace treaty and DDR process that are affecting the clarity of the future for ex-combatants.

Foucault’s work, Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison, addresses the concept of panopticons and the panopticon6 in conjunction with docile bodies. A body is docile when it

is in a state that can be moldable and transformed (Foucault, 1975:136). I argue that this is a goal of the reintegration process; the Colombian state seeks to create docile bodies that are governable subjects (Theidon, 2009; ICTJ, 2020). Foucault argues that the state seeks to create docile bodies that will perform their desired roles through the use of the panopticon. In the panopticon, one is still enclosed, yet light enters and the supervisor can see clearly, “he is seen, but he does not see; he is the object of information, never a subject in communication” (Foucault, 1975:200).

I would also like to briefly note that alongside Foucault’s theories of governmentality and biopower stands Achille Mbembe’s concept of necropolitics. Necropolitics, as Mbembe says,

6 The panopticon is illustrated as a tower in a building and from the center a supervisor can see each incarcerated

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“...assumes that the ultimate expression of sovereignty resides, to a large degree, in the power and the capacity to dictate who may live and who must die. Hence, to kill or to allow to live constitute the limits of sovereignty, its fundamental. To exercise sovereignty is to exercise control over mortality and to define life as the deployment and manifestation of power” (2003). Mbembe believes that the above statements explain Foucault’s theory of biopower. Since this research topic is also rather political in nature, I choose to briefly bring this theory forward to contextualize Foucault’s theories within my research as it pertains to the violence done unto the FARC and, conversely, the violent acts performed by these same combatants.

Methodology

In conducting my research, I followed the grounded theory model put forth in Glaser and Strauss’ work, The Discovery of Grounded Theory: Strategies for Qualitative Research (1967). This entails gathering a sufficient literature review, from which I drew my research question based on what I felt was lacking from present research. This is then followed by collecting data and analyzing with the use of codes. These codes were formulated based on recurring themes, material that addressed my question, and data contextualized by the theoretical and conceptual framework of my overarching question.

For my fieldwork, I was based in Bogotá, Colombia. The role of visiting scholar role was provided by the Universidad Libre de Bogotá (UniLibre) under the field supervision of Professor Gustavo Rojas-Páez, a transitional justice professor at the faculty of law. I

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participated in events throughout the city, including six weekly intimate meetings called Desayunos de Paz (peace breakfasts) and four additional peace breakfasts via Zoom. These breakfasts were composed of small groups, roughly 12-15 people from different disciplines, and a guest speaker who was either an ex-combatant or who has worked with ex-combatants and the current peace process. During these breakfasts, we had the opportunity to ask specific questions to the guest and hear their experiences with the FARC.

I also attended conversations with ex-combatants, FARC meetings, and conferences regarding the peace process. In addition, I conducted seven semi-structured interviews and group interviews. All informants for this study are Colombian female FARC ex-combatants who have disarmed and demobilized. The majority of my research was conducted through participant observation and group dialogue. With participants I encountered through various contacts, I began the process of introducing myself and establishing a basis of trust and rapport.

I conducted all interviews and participated in all events in Spanish. After obtaining all the data, I transcribed and translated everything into English. The data was recorded on an audio recorder. I additionally compiled notes taken during periods of participant observation. Once recorded, all data was transferred onto an encrypted USB flash drive to ensure the security of data. Promptly after the interviews, I transcribed the audio and will hold on to both audio and transcribed notes until the final product of my thesis is completed.

For my data analysis, I identified recurring themes that were critical to my research question by coding for words and references to identity, equality and healthcare. As my

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research began to evolve with the pandemic, I additionally coded for references to COVID-19 and the impact on ex-combatants, women, reincorporation and reintegration. Given that the majority of my data collection relied on group interviews and participant observation, I did not find it useful to code formally with software such as Atlas.ti, rather I collected my notes and codes in a notebook under the individual or group I was speaking with/participating with.

Fieldwork and Interruptions

In early February 2020, I left for Bogotá to conduct my fieldwork and planned to return to Amsterdam at the beginning of May. Fieldwork never comes without its complications, and mine was no exception. My target informant group is female FARC ex-combatants located in Bogotá. Trust and rapport are critical to initially establish when connecting with informants. This can be a potentially lengthy process, especially when investigating more vulnerable populations, such is the case with this study.

In early March, I began to gain trust within groups and those who can connect me with informants after integrating myself and building rapport. I was able to integrate and gain trust due to the connections I had with UniLibre. My supervisor, Gustavo, and other professors at UniLibre focus their work on the insurgency and have worked with ex-combatants. As a result, they have a basis of trust and rapport, and the informants I met through my connections at UniLibre invited me in due to their comfortability with those in my network. Trust and rapport with informants slowly grew as they were more comfortable inviting me into their spaces and agreeing to speak with me, but as these relationships began, the COVID-19 pandemic reached South America. Just as windows began to open, they quickly shut, just like the borders as they

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closed to try and contain the pandemic. Come the second week of March, I had to return to the Netherlands before South America closed their borders completely. Face-to-face interviews turned into Zoom calls, but trust became an issue. For many, even Zoom interviews became a worrisome modality or participants did not have easy access to such software. As a result, I converted my interview questions into a questionnaire format that I was able to send out to those who preferred. As a result, these questions were more structured as I was unable to actively participate in a conversation with the informant. Only one participant used the questionnaire.

Ethical Considerations

During this research, the topic of consent was very polarized amongst informants. I will discuss issues of consent, anonymity and the various methods of data collection that were triangulated. For some women, the desire to remain anonymous and have all information confidential created fear and skepticism, despite the consent form I had written up ensuring complete confidentiality and anonymity. On the other hand, there were many informants, especially those involved in group settings and dialogues, who were eager to have the

conversations posted on their social media. Regardless of the feelings informants had about this, I provided everyone with the same consent form, clearly stating what I will be collecting, for how long I will keep data, how it will be stored, and that their information will remain confidential and anonymous unless agreed upon otherwise.

Additional considerations had to be taken into account when I returned to Amsterdam since interviews moved to Zoom video meetings or phone calls. For many, the idea of

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the data I collected in Bogotá, all information collected in the Netherlands was treated with the same level of confidentiality and the same consent forms were distributed to informants. It is also important to note that there were potential benefits and issues when using virtual data collection methods. A benefit of such data collection is the ability to reach a larger population of

informants (Lefever et al., 2006). In the case of this research study, Desayunos de Paz, group interviews and conferences were switched to an online platform. As a result, I was able to

participate and collect data from events around Colombia that I may not have had access to when staying in Bogotá. A disadvantage of this collection method is the inability to connect face to face with informants which can provide a greater level of trust and rapport (Lefever et al., 2006). Furthermore, in cases of transitioning to a questionnaire for the informant who chose that

method, I was unable to have a full dialogue with her, therefore potentially leaving out important follow-up questions to support my research question.

I used anonymity for two informants who did not provide explicit consent to use their names. Other prominent informants in the FARC and those who were openly on the record in their interviews, conversations during conferences, and group discussions, were consenting of having their real names on the record. During the Desayunos de Paz, conferences and group interviews, the informants speaking even agreed to a video recording of the dialogues which the organizing group made public on social media. The necessary name changes are noted in the coming sections for those informants who did not explicitly give consent to use their real names.

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The data was triangulated using various modalities of collection7. The various forms of

data collection were structured by maintaining an overarching research question while including the change in context given the pandemic. Additionally, all data was analyzed to identify any discrepancies between each modality. Although several methods of data collection were used in this study, I did not find it affected the responses of my informants. Through cross-referencing of the obtained data, I also found that responses in person, in group settings, and via Zoom all shared a similar tone and thoroughness of responses.

The potential for harm, either emotional, social or political, were of importance to me when collecting data. Especially during this period of COVID-19, additional stress and trauma upon female informants was a possibility (Sandoval, 2020; Statista, 2020; Zulver, 2020). Furthermore, trauma incurred during the informants’ time in the insurgency was also a possibility (Camargo, 2019). It was explicitly clarified in the consent form that if a question caused any discomfort, the informants were always allowed to skip. Additionally, during interviews, periodic check ins were made with the informant to see if there was any discomfort or if they felt they needed a break or to stop altogether. Although these questions were asked during each of the interviews, none of the informants felt the need to skip, take a break or stop.

7 Triangulation refers to “the use of multiple methods or data sources in qualitative research to develop a

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Positionality and Reflexivity

I chose to focus on the female population for several reasons, one of those reasons being that I feel a strong connection to learning more about the gender I identify with and how to strive for greater female empowerment on a global level. Being a woman anywhere is a challenge as women are frequently denied equal opportunities, fair wages and credibility. As a woman myself, I empathized with my participants on a more intimate level, creating trust and stronger rapport.

Although I am a white woman studying in Europe, I did not face challenges when speaking with informants. This is also due to the fact that I was affiliated with the public university in Colombia and worked with other researchers in the field. Furthermore, when speaking with several informants and during my participation in group settings, informants were enthusiastic of the fact that I would be able to share my research beyond Latin America. I will share an anecdote in a later section in which I reflect on the response of one informant who felt strongly about the importance of my role in exposing this research in Europe.

For this research, it was also important to stay very reflexive of my own well-being. Although I have not dealt with conflict related adversities, I have experienced trauma and

gender-based violence throughout my life. It was vital to take time during my research to remove myself and participate in other activities that helped me decompress. Although I remained

vigilant about my own emotional health, my past experiences heavily motivated me to understand and speak deeply with my participants.

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Chapter One: Identity & Equality

In this next section, I recount participant observation notes I collected during a women’s FARC meeting I attended. I analyze and reflect on segments of the descriptive notes throughout the entry. As my research question also incorporates the topics of identity and equality, I share an experience I had in the field that conveys the idea of identity both individually for each ex-combatant and in a community sense as the armed militia has transformed into a political party. I additionally use this entry to further examine the concept of identity as a former combatant, and now as an individual striving to successfully reintegrate into society, yet still attached to the FARC.

*Some names have been changed to maintain anonymity

“March 6th, 2020

Gustavo and I met with *Carlos, a member of the Consejo Nacional de Reincorporation Componente FARC (CNR). The CNR works to create a community for ex-combatants and to aid during the reincorporation process. Carlos is a great resource, and although our conversation is brief, he tells me of a meeting the following day. The announcement says “Chocolatada Fariana!” An event held by members of the FARC. What more could I ask for? This announcement had no further description but the title and address. There was also a time listed, but when I arrived at the meeting, it was obvious the timing was arbitrary.

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March 7th, 2020:

The Chocolatada Fariana is to begin at 15:00. Yury, a friend of mine, has planned to meet me. I am simultaneously excited and nervous. I arrive slightly early, roughly a quarter to 15:00 (which I realize is exceptionally early for Colombian time). The address is to a rather dilapidated building in a quiet part of town. I was unsure what to expect, but I perhaps expected more of an entrance, a cafe, or something to signify that this is a location where events take place- where Chocolatadas happen regularly. I waited outside the building for Yury, continuously rechecking the address I was given to make sure I was in the right place. I waited patiently outside the entrance, sweating from nerves because of the large police officer that was looming by the doorway.

An hour after the posted time on the announcement, some people enter the room and lead us to the meeting space. We enter through one of the doors which leads us to a garage/basement-type area. We finally get to a spot in this space where half the room is without walls and we are exposed only slightly to the rain falling outside. There is only natural light. It is oddly beautiful and dark and creepy all at once. It is informally set up; chairs spread in a circle, and in the middle of this circle, a purple bandana is laid out saying

abortamos el patriarcado (we abort the patriarchy). Around the bandana, a young woman

with dark purple hair lights three candles with the colors of the Colombian flag.

Yury and I take a seat in the circle and watch as chairs slowly fill. At the entrance to the circle, there is a table set up with a few young people preparing. The meeting starts as two

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large flags are brought out, both with the FARC emblem and the words Mujeres Fariana. The woman with the purple hair (who I will learn is Carolina “Luisa” Sarmiento, an ex-combatant and one of the leaders of the gender division for the FARC party) held one of the flags and even dons a FARC shirt. The whole group begins singing the FARC party’s anthem as they warmly embrace their fellow compañeros and compañeras. Yury and I look at each other with slight panic…. Are we supposed to be here?”

Throughout this research, I did encounter moments of imposter syndrome8. As I looked

back at times when I conducted participant observation, I noticed that there is a trend in how I viewed myself in this research. In the last sentence in the above paragraph, it is clear that imposter syndrome did affect my confidence, regardless of my comfortability with my research topic. Due to the fact that I do not have Latin American roots, I occasionally experienced myself doubting my significance and influence in this field. This imposter syndrome can also be seen in following segments as I note my anxiousness when speaking up during this meeting, a lack of belonging and a feeling of intrusion.

“We stood through the seemingly never-ending song until the group was allowed to be seated yet again. And then of course, the introductions. I have been doing this every Saturday for the Desayunos de Paz, but this is different. As people begin to introduce themselves, there are double the number of names thrown around as the ex-combatants had

8 Imposter syndrome, also known as the imposter phenomenon, is, “used to designate and internal experience of

intellectual phoniness that appears to be particularly prevalent and intense among high achieving women” (Clance & Imes, 1978).

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different names within the FARC. Their introductions vary, some brief and quiet, while some rambled for minutes, but regardless of the length, their intros are emotional.

The official meeting begins, and the leaders of the event start off by talking about the women’s march that will take place the following day, 8M. Then, a young man begins handing us small pieces of paper. He asks us to write one word that can be related back to the peace process, we are each to say our word and then place it in the center of the circle by the candles. I write identitad and gently place the card down. He then gives us the task to answer three big questions. Why do we fight? What do we fight for? How can we continue to fight and contribute? Yury and I are at a loss. We are not ex-combatants. We have not had to fight and we are not a part of this organization. But they disregard that and accept us into their group, encouraging us to write whatever we feel, to write why we wanted to be here in the first place.

Why do we fight? I spoke to the fact that gender rights are human rights, gender rights do

not need to be a separate fight and we all need to pull together to bridge the gap. We, as researchers, negotiators, educators and others, need to address intersectionality, acknowledging the various factors that impact daily life for ex-combatants and women.

What do we fight for? I struggle putting sentences together that would embody what I

wanted to say, so I simply cover my little sheet in words; opportunities, liberty, equality, safety, security, justice, access to resources. The list could go on forever. I realize that this is not just a fight for the FARC, but a fight that is being fought everywhere.

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How can we continue to fight and contribute? By continuing to curate events such as this.

By creating a safe space for people to come together, share experiences and thoughts and pain and excitement and all. To encourage a community that needs support now more than ever.”

When I shared the responses to the above questions, the reactions of those around me were that of solidarity. As other members in the circle shared, their responses were similar, and many mirrored my own answers. Unlike my answers though, many participants made note of the fact that the reintegration process has not proved successful. As a result, they also explained that this manifested in continued displacement, land reformation, withholding of basic human

resources, and discrimination based on their identities.

“Once conversation wrapped up, Yury and I proceeded to approach a woman who had mentioned she was a recent ex-combatant. She was at the meeting accompanied by her husband, also an ex-combatant, and her baby. Her husband had many thoughts and feelings, and during one part of the group sharing, he spoke at length about his will to fight, his desire to change the society they lived in, and how even though he had demobilized, his fight is far from over. The woman on the other hand was quiet and barely made eye contact as we approached her. We gently asked her if she would be interested in participating in my research project and with the small words she let leak from her mouth, we could sense the immediate uncertainty and skepticism. I proceeded to show her the questions I was hoping to present. I held my breath as she took my phone and began reading. I could see

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the discomfort in her body language. Silent and still as she read the questions, she calmly passes back my phone to me. She did not speak. Yury nudged her, asking if she would be interested, and she answered pervasively. We asked if another time would work, if we can get her information for future contact, but without lifting her eyes from the baby she held in her arms, she gave a worried ‘no.’

I had feared this. Just that week, several female ex-combatants had been murdered, and the numbers were only growing. Why would I, the only non-party member in the room, be a trustworthy person to release your dark memories to? Who am I to come into this room? What is my position amongst these people who may see me as a threat or a looming superior presence? Why trust me?”

It is in this section that I notice the fact that my imposter syndrome may have affected my ability to connect with the female ex-combatant I had approached. I asked myself several

questions which all stemmed from the fraud I felt I possessed in this setting. I am unable to clearly say whether or not this is what prevented the female ex-combatant to speak with me further, but I did keep this in mind as I proceeded with contacting potential informants.

“After the event, I walked Yury to the bus stop. She asked me why I thought that woman vetoed our request to interview her. I am uncertain, yet completely understand at the same time. During the entirety of the meeting, I was fixated on that woman and her interactions with the baby. It seemed as though she had been brought there by her husband who clearly had a strong desire to attend, so it was probably not her first choice in terms of Saturday

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afternoon plans. I tried to imagine myself in her shoes. Not only was her voice timid and quiet, but so was her demeanor. A woman, an ex-combatant, a minority, and mother to a beautiful baby. She is not only thinking of her own safety now, but that of her child, and every day is a new challenge. As an outsider I was nervous being in this space; as an ex-combatant, I can only applaud their bravery.”

Identity, intersectionality and equality are the key points I found consistent through this event. I use this piece to further support my argument that a reclamation of identity and equality is again not necessarily the case, but rather the transformation from an armed militia into a social-political party creates an opportunity for ex-combatants to enter a new fight towards just negotiations in the peace accord. The themes of identity and intersectionality that are present here additionally provide a more complex understanding of how women are at an additional disadvantage during the peace process and how they must work harder to gain a voice in society. I say gain here as again I argue that reclamation or regaining of identity and equality is not the case in a society that did not empower women to begin with (Sanin & Franco, 2017; Gjelsvik, 2010; Mendez, 2012; Herrera & Porch, 2008).

Identity and intersectionality are apparent in this segment because each former combatant has a story and intersecting characteristics based upon their gender, ethnicity and socio-economic situation. These intersecting qualities leave the ex-combatants, and specifically the women, at a disadvantage when it comes to representing themselves in the work towards negotiations with the government. The mother I spoke to additionally represents an added layer of being a

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caretaker is a natural role (Aolain, 2009; Aratani, 2020; Gjelsvik, 2010), yet as a combatant, women were no longer seen as mothers or caretakers, therefore they fall victim to further

disadvantage as they re-enter society as they are dehumanized for not taking on their natural role (Herrera & Porch, 2008; Gjelsvik, 2010; Mendez, 2012; Sanin & Franco, 2017).

Language: Compañera

This research, including all interviews, conversations and participant observations, was entirely conducted in Spanish. While analyzing my data, I began to notice words in Spanish that are rarely, if at all, spoken in English. One of these terms is compañera (f). The word itself can literally be translated into English as companion, but compañera holds more significance in Spanish, especially in the context of a political party such as the FARC. Similar to a comrade, a compañero or compañera embodies a community of people working together in a shared goal. But the word holds more weight than just a friend or companion, it can label combatants, those who have reintegrated, and those still fighting in other capacities. It encapsulates a brotherhood and sisterhood.

Additionally, I noticed the frequency of diminutive additions to words usually describing the positions and roles of women. To create a diminutive, the Spanish language uses several endings including -ito/a, -ica/o. I choose to point this out because it dawned on me while interviewing Victoria Sandino, one of the most influential members of the FARC and now a leader in Congress, that she diminished her authoritative role as a comandante (commander) by referring to herself as a comandantica. The diminutive she used shocked me as her role as a commander is widely known in the community, even a quick search on Wikipedia will confirm

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that, yet she viewed herself as a little commander, even able to use -ica to feminize the word comandante which is naturally gender neutral.

Sandino’s presence, both when I met her in a group setting and during our interview, is that of a strong and empowered female leader. By using the diminutive, Sandino possesses power and powerlessness at the same time due to her intersecting identities of being a woman, an ex-combatant, and a leader (both during the FARC and now as a senator). The power she holds comes from using her identities to her advantage by empowering other women in the FARC and working directly as a peace negotiator to enact real change. On the other hand, the diminutive she uses does show a sense of powerlessness. Colombia is still a machismo society, regardless of a woman’s position within it. Her intersecting identities also leave her at a disadvantage because she ends up using a gendered and diminutive word to undermine her position, making her less intimidating to men, and creating less controversy within society.

The importance of that distinction goes beyond minimizing her role as a comandante, but the overall role of women both in and out of the FARC. I considered the intersecting aspect of this term, how the diminutive she used genders a neutral word, how by giving the word a female identity it added another layer of insignificance. Translating directly, Sandino called herself a “little female commander,” a description I do not see as too significant or impactful, yet her continued efforts are shaping Colombia every day. Through my conversation with Sandino, she constantly explained how there were always others in the insurgency that suffered more, that did more, that experienced more than she did. To her, there was a shared role in the FARC and by calling herself a comandante, she felt this would encourage an unequal hierarchy that she did not

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believe would be productive. By using this language, Sandino continues to reinforce the

importance of compañera, because this word embodies camaraderie and community, by labeling herself as a comandantica, she stays true to her role first and foremost as a compañera in her community. Furthermore, Sandino’s intersecting identities, and those of her fellow combatants, create a community through suffering (Crenshaw, 1991). Additionally, this camaraderie and community could not be fully achieved if Sandino did not also share her vulnerabilities as a woman, minority, and ex-combatant.

What is Your Name?

Identity is a running theme throughout this research, and as I previously stated, there are many intersecting characteristics at play amongst the compañeras, one of which is their name. Within the insurgency, combatants are given a name other than their birth name. I was lucky enough to speak with one former combatant, Dilia “Laura” Fuertes, twice. I will bring up our conversations again throughout this because of her vital role within the FARC as a medical doctor and her position now with the National Reincorporation Council (CNR). I was able to first speak with her at a Desayuno de Paz, and her title was Dilia Fuertes, but when I arrived, she referred to herself as Laura. The conversation began by addressing her two names when asked: Who is Dilia? Who is Laura? Tell us a little bit about yourself.

Laura: I present myself as Laura, Laura was my name in the insurgency. I was in the FARC for about 14 years and Laura is the name that has accompanied me since I was 15 years old. I would say Consuelo for my parents to call me, because that was the name that I was baptized with.

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Laura became her identity at a very young age, and she still carries it with her despite the fact that her legal name remains Dilia Consuelo Fuertes. Laura is now a doctor and works for the CNR aiding the peace process, she is referred to as Laura, but on all government sites and

profiles, she is Dilia.

A similar story appeared as a response in my questionnaire I had distributed to a woman by the name of Liliana López Palacio, otherwise known as Olga Lucia Marín. In our writing I asked her if she used another name during her time in the insurgency and if she feels that it has affected her identity. Her response seemed to be a reiteration of the many other stories,

Olga: I use Olga because that is the name that has been with me for more than half of my life, it was my pseudonym in the guerrilla. It does not cause me trouble, rather it is the name that identifies me with my fight and the fight that I continue.

I connected with Olga through Mujeres Fariana, the women’s group of the FARC. She is currently in charge of the gender committee, working tirelessly with female ex-combatants during the reincorporation and reintegration process. She works as passionately now as she did in the FARC, and it was no surprise to me that she would identify so strongly with her guerrilla pseudonym,

Arianna: Can you tell me a little bit about your experience in the FARC? When did you enter, what was your position?

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Olga: I entered Nov 20, 1981. I worked in many things, especially in education and propaganda, also in international work. I was in command, but my work was done more on the subject of education and work with the civilian population, helping to organize the population. Your deepest needs. I was also a radiographer, nurse and photographer.

To Olga, her name carried more than just her being a combatant, rather it embodied the intersecting roles she took on during her time as a guerrilla fighter, such as her work in

education, organization and healthcare. The name created an identity that embodied her fight in the FARC, in whatever role she was filling that given day. Now as she has disarmed through a transformation into a social movement, she continues to fight with the FARC in a different capacity, but still in ways associated with this identity she formed during her time as an

insurgent. And not only as an insurgent, but as a young woman coming into her own identity as a teenager in war.

Both of these women have held positions of authority, but that is not always the case. Furthermore, although they hold notable positions in society, this does not mean that their reintegration process was successful or even that is was truly carried out as the peace accord had had originally intended. During the FARC meeting I attended, regardless of which ex-combatant spoke, they addressed themselves by their FARC name, even confirming that that is not their given name, but the name they have identified with since the insurgency. Roles aside, the weight of a name on identity struck me with such power. To be born into a name is another, but it is what you do under that name that shapes your identity. Furthermore, when you spend the

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pseudonym? And as Olga mentioned, her name has not caused her any issues, and as such, has only strengthened her identity under her beliefs and continued fight.

My interviews both with Olga and Laura imply that reclamation of identity is not

necessarily what occurs, rather, there is a continuation of an identity that was acquired during the insurgency. Based on the responses I collected, the identity politics behind a name in these cases have not created any issues for the female ex-combatants. This further supports the argument that reclamation is not happening nor is it necessarily a concern for these ex-combatants.

Pain and Care within the FARC

Identity and equality, either of an individual or a community, impact healthcare. In this section I explore the healthcare services available in the insurgency, but furthermore, how identity and community played a vital role in providing said services. To begin, I had the pleasure of speaking with Victoria Sandino twice, once in person and once via Zoom when I returned to Amsterdam. Sandino, as I mentioned earlier, was a commander in the FARC (or a comandantica in her words). Sandino was in the insurgency for 24 years and held a position of authority until the ceasefire was called. Sandino frequently speaks to health care issues and gender equality in the context of the insurgency, so as part of our interview, I asked her to recount situations during her time as a combatant in which she was directly affected by the FARC health care system.

Arianna: Was there a time when you fell ill or had an injury during your time in the FARC, and how was it taken care of?

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Sandino: Yes, there was a time when I was injured during a bombing. In reality, it was a minor injury, especially in comparison to what many of my compañeros and compañeras experienced. A piece of debris went through my arm. And the care, well it was a care amongst all the compañeros. There were no health personnel. We had to get out in the middle of it all. We had to get hurt. Not only me, there were many more wounded, many, many more wounded. That is why I say my injury was a slight wound. And we had to go many days without medicine, without anything, without any cures because we weren’t in those conditions. We had lost a lot of our medicines and until we were able to get out of the military siege, I was able to receive more judicious attention from my compañeros, they cleaned my wounds, washed it well, and then I would wait for a recovery. But I will repeat, that was a slight injury because it only went through the arm, so it was slight in comparison to the other compañeros. Other compañeros were far worse, worse pain, many did not make it. Or they could not even make it out, make it to receive any care, we could not take all the injured. How do you provide necessary medical attention with what you have at the time?

The question she poses at the end of this dialogue is a fascinating one. Based on the responses Sandino gives in this segment, it seems as though the community and camaraderie of compañeros had to take on the role of a caretaker, regardless of their medical background. Furthermore, I make note of how she downplays her injury during a bombing, similarly to how she labeled herself as a comandantica. To me, Sandino downplays the injury because again, there is a level of vulnerability that I believe Sandino tries to keep relatively public as she is the face of the FARC women. There is a delicate balance she attempts to maintain with her identity. By

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turning the focusing away from her and onto the larger picture of her compañeros, she is able to maintain a cohesive community setting that attempts to prevent a hierarchical structure,

regardless of the fact that she is an authority figure within the FARC and does hold power. She repeats three separate times how her injury was minor, yet she still required significant medical attention and had a decent recovery time. This camaraderie amongst compañeros is incredibly apparent, especially when they are your health care system, and when during bombings, such as the one she recounts, many of your medical resources are destroyed or lost.

Olga’s responses, which were collected through a questionnaire format, also conveyed a similar tone to Sandino’s responses. Although the method of data collection was different

between these two informants, the responses in how they were presented, and the general tone of the answers did not vary significantly. I asked Olga the same question as I did Sandino; was there a time when you fell ill or had an injury during your time in the FARC, and how was it taken care of?

Olga: Sick yes, no injury. The diseases were treated by us or our doctors or if it was more serious, we went to the city. But they operated on my ovaries and there was much

malaria, and rheumatic pain.

There is a feeling of nonchalance to her response as she speaks calmly to her experiences. Having worked in medical settings myself, I am shocked by the occurrence of ovarian surgery and care for malaria and pain, but to Olga these obstacles were addressed in the ways they could be. It was handled, and that was what mattered, regardless of who was on the other side of the