MEXICO CITY (AP) — The woman historically criticized for her role in the fall of the Aztec Empire in 1521 is undergoing a modern reassessment. Known as Marina to the Spanish, Malintzin to pre-Hispanic peoples, and later Malinche, her work as a translator and interpreter for Spanish conquistador Hernán Cortés positioned her as a key figure during a tumultuous colonial era, whose ramifications are still evident in Latin America today. Her narrative, primarily conveyed through the perspectives of others, has spawned various myths and legends.
The ongoing debate about her legacy poses questions: Was Malinche a traitor to her people? A lover of the conquistador? A slave leveraging her linguistic abilities for survival? Or was she an empowered individual who influenced Cortés and played a critical role in historical events? Five centuries later, this discourse persists, and Mexico's first female leader, President Claudia Sheinbaum, is actively engaging in it.
Starting on Sunday, Mexico will launch a series of cultural events aimed at reclaiming Malinche’s narrative, coinciding with the anniversary of Christopher Columbus’s arrival in the Americas. Sheinbaum emphasized the importance of vindicating this significant yet often misunderstood figure, with a working group of anthropologists, historians, and philosophers dedicated to studying her life and contributions.
Malinche's origin can be traced back to around 1500 when she was born near the Gulf of Mexico. Sold into slavery by the Aztecs to a Mayan tribe, she learned several languages, including Nahuatl and Oluteco, as well as two Mayan dialects. Following the defeat of her captors, she was handed over to the Spanish, who baptized her, providing a façade for their subsequent abuses.
Historian Camilla Townsend asserts that Malinche was “at their mercy as a victim,” yet her ability to learn Spanish enabled her to survive by choosing to translate. This linguistic skill eventually led her to face Moctezuma, the Aztec leader, facilitating communications between him and Cortés and potentially attempting to sway negotiations between two drastically different cultures.
While some historical accounts suggest Malinche may have saved lives, she often found herself caught in complex situations, including acting as an intermediary for other women facing sexual violence. Today, most scholars do not label her a traitor, recognizing the intricate dynamics at play during a period rife with conflict among Indigenous groups, long before they were collectively categorized under the term “Indigenous” post-colonization.
Yásnaya Aguilar, a Mixe linguist, portrayed Malinche as “a native woman who transitioned from being a slave to gaining respect and honor in her era.” Notably, her name was synonymous with that of Cortés; together they were perceived as one, with Malinche often being the voice of the pair. The Spanish conquistadors also acknowledged her significance, as indicated by Townsend - Cortés offered her marriage to a commander to ensure she would remain a vital part of the conquest team in modern-day Honduras.
Malinche's life was tragically cut short at around 30 years old, likely due to an epidemic. She bore a son with Cortés and had a daughter with her husband. Her narrative fell into obscurity until the early 19th century when, following Mexico's independence from Spain, societal perceptions shifted, repainting her as a “lascivious and scheming traitor” in a popular novel of 1826, ultimately associating her with betrayal in the burgeoning national identity.
Malinche's negative portrayal was further cemented by Nobel Prize winner Octavio Paz in his influential work, “The Labyrinth of Solitude,” in which he depicted her as a figure of treachery, reinforcing the cultural belief that Mexicans could not forgive her perceived betrayal. Over time, her name has come to symbolize sympathy for foreign influence and a disdain for one’s heritage.
Despite her vilification, Mexico’s Indigenous peoples have maintained a degree of respect for Malinche, commemorating her through naming landmarks and traditional cultural practices. Since the 1970s, her image began to be reevaluated, particularly among Chicana feminists in the United States, fostering a growing understanding of the complexities surrounding her life. Today, increasing academic work is dedicated to contextualizing her contributions, with the Mexican government also joining the movement to rehabilitate her legacy.
