Hope and optimism are contagious

In moments like these, when pessimism about the future abounds, journalist Marco Avilés always turns to the work of Indigenous authors. “I see a lot of optimism in Indigenous literature because, in it, people are thinking about the future and how we can rebuild our territories, our communities, how we can start learning our languages again,” he said.

Avilés is part of a generation that doesn’t speak the languages of their grandparents, such as Quechua, Mapuche and Aymara. “My family is a Quechua family, we come from Abancay, a little town close to Cusco [in Peru], but we migrated because the conditions there were not good,” he said. He never learned to speak Quechua, which meant he could only exchange a few words with his grandmothers. “While working on my Ph.D., I realized that this story wasn’t only mine or my family’s, but this is the story and the history of all of Latin America.”

Avilés is a trained journalist who transitioned into academia and is now working to bring the texts of Indigenous writers — particularly those of contemporary Andean poets, filmmakers, essayists and novelists — to a broader audience. “When I started my Ph.D., I made the decision to keep writing as a journalist because I really like communicating with wide audiences. I want to write these articles for people, like my nephews [and] my sisters, to read,” he said.

By bringing Indigenous literature into mainstream media outlets, Avilés hopes to highlight the work already being done by Indigenous groups. For example, groups are working in Mapuche territories to reclaim their land. And they’re thinking about how they can transition forests on that land that were previously harvested for pine or eucalyptus back to sustainable uses. “There is this sense that history continues in a way that will help us heal. That is something that I find can be helpful for other communities,” he said.

Avilés believes hope and optimism are contagious, so, in addition to publishing in major outlets, he’s connecting Indigenous writers with the work of their colleagues. When traveling to do fieldwork and conduct interviews, he brings books to share, as many of his favorite texts by Indigenous authors are not widely available. On a recent trip to Peru, Avilés picked up copies of “Poemas de amor y duelo a la tierra” by Quechua writer Merce Condori, and he gave a copy to Venezuelan writer Arianna de Sousa-García when she visited Lima. “During my last trip to Chile, I got several books by Mapuche authors, including ‘Kewakafe’ by Roxana Miranda Rupailaf and ‘La hija de la lavandera’ by Yeny Díaz Wenten, and brought them to Lima,” he said. And now, as an assistant professor in the Spanish department, he will bring some of these texts to the students of Mount Holyoke College.

Avilés has spent two decades as a journalist, but taking on a teaching role feels to him like carrying on a proud family tradition. His father was a teacher in Apurímac, a region in the rural Peruvian Andes. Two of his sisters work in education — one as a director of a public school and the other as a university instructor. “Teaching is something I’ve always done a bit as a journalist,” he said, adding that mentoring is a proud journalistic tradition. “But doing even more formal teaching now, I’ve been reflecting on how that has helped me connect with my father, who passed away about 15 years ago. I am following in his footsteps all these years later,” he said.

Avilés completed his doctorate at the University of Pennsylvania and is the author of three books: “Día de visita,” “De dónde venimos los cholos” and “No soy tu cholo.” In 2016, the New York Times named “De donde venimos los cholos” one of the year’s most notable Spanish-language books. Avilés was also editor of an anthology of narrative journalism entitled “Locos, malos y virtuosos,” and was the editor-in-chief of Etiqueta Negra, considered one of the best literary magazines in Spanish.

Avilés was initially attracted by Mount Holyoke’s reputation as a collaborative research environment with a strong mentorship culture. However, meeting students during his interview process truly energized him. “I felt that they were people with a strong sense of responsibility,” he said, adding that it was clear each student had put time and thought into the questions they asked him. The result was a fascinating discussion, which will undoubtedly become the first of many.

He is looking forward to leading a seminar this fall called “Indigenous Futures.” Featuring literature from Indigenous writers, including works from sixteenth- and seventeenth-century authors and contemporary writers, such as Daniela Catrileo and Quya Reyna, the class will be both historically grounded and future-looking. “I want to show the students that even in the hardest times, people, Indigenous people, Indigenous artists, were — and are — thinking about the future and saying, ‘Okay, things are not good right now, but if we keep fighting, the future will definitely be better.’”