A Light in Chiapas

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“I pride myself on being a failure,” says Ann Barker ’50 by phone from her home in San Cristóbal de las Casas in the southern state of Chiapas, Mexico.

The self-effacing 97-year-old is many things, but a failure is not one of them. She is a poet, painter, activist, and teacher.

After living more than 55 years in Mexico, she remains active in her community, offering art classes to Tzotzil children on the weekends. The kids, ages 6 through 12, accompany their mothers to K’inal Antsetik, a nonprofit women’s weaving cooperative. K’inal antsetik means “gathering place of women” in Tzotzil, the Indigenous Mayan language native to the region. While the mothers weave, Barker teaches painting to the children. The organization provides a welcome respite from the area’s turbulence.

The small city she lives in now has seen more than its share of violence related to land disputes and the drug trade. This past October, Marcelo Pérez, a Jesuit priest and negotiator for peace, was shot dead after serving Sunday Mass. The regional violence sometimes prevents the women, who live in the highlands, from accessing the city as drug cartel gangs cut off access to highways.

In spite of the risks, Barker is dedicated to helping her community. She says that when she lived in the western city of Michoacán she was threatened while attempting to get “innocent scapegoats” of the drug trade released from jail.

“The work that I’ve been doing with these children [is about] trying to keep them out of the grips of the drug dealers,” she says, adding that children face the threat of forced recruitment into criminal organizations as early as 12 years old.

But when asked if she considers herself an activist, she demurs. “Activist? No, I’m very low key. Please don’t call me such a thing.” Then, after a beat, she admits, “Of course I am!”

She recalls a class-conscious upbringing in Washington, D.C., and Winnetka, Illinois, but at Barnard, she found a far more diverse setting and chose to major in Spanish. Her time at the College, however, was almost cut short when her father — “a quixotic” man, she says — didn’t pay her tuition. Luckily, Barker was offered a scholarship and housing, but she had to work weeknights at Presbyterian Hospital emptying bedpans and hold another job on the weekends.

In time, she would find great use for that Spanish major when her second husband decided to retire in South America. The couple toured the southern continent before settling on Mexico at a more peaceful and prosperous time for the country.

Looking back, Barker has few regrets. She has written two novels, many short stories, and scores of poems (unpublished). She remains fluent in Spanish, capable in German and French, and is learning Tzotzil. She continues to read Jean-Paul Sartre in French, listens to Russian Orthodox music on Sundays, and enjoys the occasional glass of wine or two in the evening. She says doesn’t identify with any particular religion, national identity, or class, and that’s the point.

“I have abolished, for myself, social classes,” she says, “even though it hasn’t been accomplished elsewhere.”