Elena Avila, Identity, Modern Medicine and an Interview with her Daughter

The palimpsestic commentary-like  pieces of writing that I am sharing here on Elena, as a process in itself, show me how generative her whole life seems to be for so many people. It's so much the case, that with only a few mentions of her name, her story, or a blog post, people start to bring their own ideas, comments, their memories of her, or connections they have made to traditional knowledge systems that parallel my experiences with Elena. I feel the need to keep underlining that this has all been about relationship. Elena always emphasized that working with a genuine curandera was cocreative work, something very personal and relational. This was also what she pointed out as an element of modern biomedicine that had mostly died out. So, it fascinates me that even at a meta level, as I go about working through this material years after her death, her life story tends to magnetize a great deal of interpersonal exchange and relationship building. That's unsurprising, in a way. On to the next installment. 

Discernment at the Margins

Elena’s writing and public talks contain a certain rationality and earthiness that is difficult to reconcile with the typical etic modernist perceptions of traditional healing as quaint at best, and dangerous superstitious pseudo-medicine, at worst. In Elena’s work she mentions things such as her disbelief in the pervasive tendency to blame all misfortune on curses, in the world of folk belief. She spoke critically about the importance of not “prophesying” (although she did not discount the ability totally) or claiming to tell the future as a part of curanderismo. She recounted cases of charlatan curanderos and what struck her as ridiculous about many Mexican magical cures, like herbal baths for finding one’s soul mate. She offered ‘taking personal responsibility’ as an alternative to supernatural explanations as much as possible. ^[1] The significance of this line of approach in Avila’s own healing epistemology is that, while she emphasized the importance of revising traditional medicine, she was not fully situated in any one particular discourse but instead drew on several, simultaneously, a fact that led some to criticize her as inauthentic. She did, in fact, maintain a critique of the potential for misunderstanding and misdiagnosis in traditional medicine.  In a classic case of balancing the demands and insights of modern medicine and traditional thought, she mentioned cases such as a young man in a New Mexico prison who insisted that he was suffering from a hex and was brought to Elena Avila for a culture-specific intervention, leading her to the discovery that the man was an undiagnosed schizophrenic. In the same passage she indicated, however, that neglecting the element of soul loss through a medical reductionist model (in the case of a physical injury) addresses the somatic problem, but leaves the psyche injury undealt with.(1999, 170-171)

I assume the position of looking at her circumstances and discursive juggling of traditional, modern and postmodern perspectives through a dialectical productive-tension hermeneutic, assuming that her experinces at a medical and cultural margin lead to insights. The case of the schizophrenic young man points to just such a new perspective on what being at the margins means and whether margins are problematic,  productive or can be seen beyond the confines of binary opposition all together. Margins are, after all, potentially creative spaces that are only assumed to be ‘marginal’ as it were, in relationship to a ‘center’. It is in one of the auto-biographical incidents narrated by Elena that we particularly see this tension and its resolution, for her:  She says that, following traditional Mexican customs, she wrapped her first child in many layers of fabric, believing that this would prevent the traditional disease known as mal aire, while she was resident at a US military base in Germany. When her son became sick, she brought him to the on-base doctor, only to be chided:

‘When I arrived at the hospital, the doctor took one look at my swaddled son, and began to yell at me, “Your son is burning up with fever. He just had a fever convulsion and needs to cool down. Are you trying to kill him? What is the matter with you people?” (meaning Mexican Americans). Completely humiliated, I felt as if I were a horrible mother...Later when I was Director of Maternal Child Nursing at the R.E. Thompson Hospital in El Paso, I started a teaching program for mothers and nursing personnel. I explained to them the real meaning of mal aire and the importance of cooling a child down with tepid water when he has a fever...I told my classes, just as I tell my clients who are mothers now, ‘We swaddle our children with love and protective intent.’ (Avila 1999, 50)

It was the insight of her second teacher Miktlan Ehekateotl Kwauhtlinxan (a teacher claiming a system of indigenous knowledge in unbroken continuity with the ancient Aztecs, who I visited while in the field ) that lead her to resolve this tension between standard medical practice and Mexican popular wisdom, in the example given, giving the tradition a more metaphorical sense.

If the passionate internet discussion and criticism around her writing is any indication, some did not agree at all with Avila’s position on maledictions and certain other traditional beliefs, which they saw as a new age watering down and appropriation of a more authentic curanderismo, a problematic position to take, but certainly an inevitable one in the world of all that is connected to the religiosities of indigenous peoples and the hybrid traditions connected to them. Around these subjects, such debates are ubiquitous. The emergent perspective Avila represents can also be read as a simple lack of authenticity by traditionalists who saw her compromise as evincing a lack of real relationship to tradition itself.^[2]

Undoubtedly, Avila herself consistently confessed that her own encounter with tradition included her own personal views, interpretations, re-interpretations and at times rejections of what she regards as unhelpful. At times she reconsidered these opinions, a fluiditiy of perspective and authority that I would situate within postmodernity, by and large. (1999, 36) She did occasionally tell me that, for example, she initially disliked conducting cleansing ceremonies using eggs,  one of the main bases of the practice of curanderismo. Her process was certainly individualist in parts, transparent, and was not simply reproductive of tradition, however one may judge that. Elena did not represent a traditionalist point of view as such, as is clear from these reformative, re-interpretative understandings that take into account the view of mainstream and traditional medicine, with a respect for the place of both, as seen in her interpretation of espanto, mal aire etc…. She similarly indicates her socio-culturally less-than-classical positioning in other anecdotes in which she talks about the tensions between wanting to be with native people in Mexico while being shunned for her liminal (not quite Mexican, not quite North American) status by the traditional people among whom she studied, or wanting her credit cards and hotels while in rustic towns south of the border.^[3] In all cases, she seems to represent herself often not as ‘marginal’ so much as at the margins, in a liminal space that, while often uncomfortable, also seemed to produce insights and even syntheses of apparently disparate knowledge systems.

Identities In-Between

Avila expressed a process of mestizaje in her work that is interesting because it is only at times articulated, although it is certainly ambient in her approach, as if there is a near metonymical identification of her own self and hybridity with curanderismo  itself. Most interestingly, throughout her narratives, it is not until she steps into her most committed time period of studying curanderismo that there seems to be a real ripening of the issue of identity. Despite Avila’s strong draw to her indigenous roots in the face of family disapproval, her experience of being at the margins in the United States is not the only factor that shapes her own constructions of identity. Elena Avila recounts in several passages the effect of Anglo-American prejudice on her life, from co-workers who struggle to respect the managerial authority of a Mexican-American woman, to neighbors who admit to a genuine shock at her cleanliness and house-keeping abilities despite her Mexicaness. ^[4]

She was also, however, to be dramatically othered by the Mexican indigenous community among whom she spent time apprenticing, south of the border, with her teacher Andres Segura. When she is called a ‘half-breed’ and a ‘yankee’ by a member of said native community, a typical Mexican-American that is spoiled and can’t even speak Spanish," she has both a confrontation and an epiphany. Avila writes:

‘I’m proud of my indigenous roots and I’m proud to be here. In the US they call us wetbacks and Mexicans and tell us to go back where we came from because we don’t belong there. We don’t speak our language because it was taken from us. As children, our parents and teachers spanked us when we spoke Spanish. The white culture told us that we were inferior. Now you are telling me that I am a Yankee. Where do I belong?’ (Avila 1999, 119)

It is at this point that she most overtly constructs her identity:

‘This conversation marked another major shift in my consciousness. I realized that I was not an Indian and not a white of European descent, but a mestiza. This was my destiny, this was what happened to me, and I realized that I needed to be proud of who I was, of all parts of myself.’(Avila 1999, 119)

What one witnesses of Elena Avila’s identity process in the arenas of both cultureal and wellness traditions, is highly useful. There are repetitions, throughout her work, of dialectical (and at times dialogical) modes of resolution; This approach is at the core of what Elena Avila was offering, it could be argued.

Interviews

Sondie Skory, Daughter

Can you tell me, first, a bit about who you are? Where are you from? What sort of work do you do? Is there anything else about yourself that you would like to express?

My name is Sondra Susan (Avila) Skory, daughter of Elena Avila. I was born in West Berlin, Germany, and my name comes from a babysitter’s name that my mother liked while we lived in Berlin. She always called me Sondie or Mijita^[5]. I’ve always loved the uniqueness of my name. I was still an infant when my father got out of the Air Force, and my parents, my older brother, and myself moved to El Paso, Texas, my parent’s hometown. My 3 brothers and I had a wonderful childhood, filled with so many happy memories as a result of my mom’s unconditional love and attention.  We didn’t have much money, but as a child I never knew it. I had pretty dresses, big birthday parties, a safe neighborhood with friends, and parents to protect us.

I have never moved from El Paso.  My parents divorced when I was 14 years old, and I went to live with my father. Because of my mom’s desire to experience life away from my father, she spent less and less time at home with the family prior to the divorce, and I got closer to my father because he was the available parent at the time. For that reason, I went to live with my father and older brother after the divorce. My younger twin brothers who were 7 at the time remained with my mom for a number of years, but also later came to live with us one by one. When I turned 18, my mother moved to California with a new husband and my little brother, and then later to Albuquerque as a single woman/mother to start working at the Albuquerque Rape Crisis Center.  A number of years before her death, she expressed to me that she never thought she would lose her kids (physically) as a result of the divorce, and merely wanted out of a marriage that she no longer could take. As a child, you never see it this way, though.

Unfortunately, we had our conflicts in my teenage years, and I dealt with abandonment issues. It took many years for us to get to a better place, and I have to say that when I became a mother myself, I really began to understand her as a person, and the love of a mother. She was an incredible grandmother to my 2 children, Samantha and Noah. I feel like she really wanted to make a difference in their lives, which she truly did. Maybe she was making up for those lost years after the divorce…She was so much fun, and always on the floor playing with them with so much attention and unconditional love. My kids lovingly called her “Grandma Albuquerque”. My kids loved her frequent visits. She was always present for holidays, ballet recitals, soccer games, and birthday parties, no matter what her schedule was. I myself am a devoted mother, and my family is the joy of my existence. Today, I have 2 wonderful teenage children that have been raised with all the love and influence of extended family, especially that of my mother.

I followed in my mother’s footsteps and became a nurse. I have been a nurse for 25 years, and specialize in pediatric nursing. I used to have platicas all the time with my mother on various cases and on the joy and trials of my experiences as a nurse. She in turn would ask for advice or just share some of her experiences dealing with her clients. I loved the way she incorporated old medicine with the new. She was successful in both realms of healing, modern medicine and traditional healing. I got my masters 3 years ago, and now practice as a pediatric nurse practitioner. I left my job a year ago for a new job because I felt I only had time in my busy day to treat and prescribe medications…I wanted to have time to talk, hug, and get to know my little patients and their families, too.  I know that this is a result of my mother’s influence on me and the work I love to do. My mom and I graduated from the same university, and she was so proud of me and all my accomplishments. Our last picture together was during that weekend of celebration.  She died 10 months later.

Who was your mother? As a curandera and as human being?

My mother was a remarkable person, but also a human with flaws. However, I believe her life experiences and those flaws made her the healer that she was. She had a very difficult and poor childhood filled with abuse and neglect that scarred her heart, but the spirit of her soul always did its best to prevail to success. She felt the pain of her clients, and had the necessary insight to heal them. She had always been resilient with diverse life experiences, which only added to the compassion and empathy she always had as a curandera. She lived life to the fullest. She was so much fun to watch in her dynamic lectures and teachings.  Her positive energy helped people all over the world. And…who could resist her beautiful smile and all the love that radiated from it!

She would travel to poor communities in Mexico and be okay with it, but on the flip side she loved expensive hotels with room service. She loved attention, and she was wonderful at getting people involved and drawn into her lectures and conferences. In her personal life, she loved being the center of attention, traveling, and being with people, but spent many years alone, in and out of relationships. I always wanted her to find that someone to grow old with because I knew she got lonely. After she got cancer, it was harder to be alone and support herself independently.  She was scared often that the cancer would return, and some of her zest for life faded.

She was family-oriented all the way. She was most happy with all her children and grandchildren surrounding her! She was such a good cook, making delicious meals out of almost nothing from the refrigerator and lots of love involved. She lived modestly, but her home was bright with color and felt warm and inviting always. It was filled with gifts from people that were dear to her, as well as from people that made her something in exchange for a healing. She loved her home, and her beautiful altar in her healing room that always smelled of sweet copal.

How/To what degree were you exposed to curanderismo growing up?

As a younger child and adolescent, I was not exposed to curanderismo at all. My parents raised us in a predominately white neighborhood, and we didn’t even talk Spanish in the home.  The Mexican culture wasn’t taught to us growing up. It wasn’t until my twenties that my mom started to get really involved in learning about curanderismo, and started her lectures. Of course, I was so busy living my own life that I didn’t have much interest in it. I saw many of her lectures over the years, and accompanied her with my family to a few places on her book tour in the late 90’s. My kids have always been exposed to it, so it was always the norm for them. But for me, it was harder to accept because my mom had evolved into a different person and it seemed “weird” to me for many years. In later years, I had a better appreciation for it, as well as understanding of it.

How did she impact your life? What was it like being her daughter?

I guess we had our share of bad fights and misunderstanding of each other, but I always knew she loved me without a doubt. For most of my life, I thought we were very different people, and we clashed often. She was stubborn, but so was I. I realized that many of our heated disagreements were based on her love for me, and trying to protect me from harm or pain.  She loved having a daughter (and a granddaughter) in the hope of keeping the future family generations of women going, and she had always wished that I would continue the teachings of curanderismo after she was gone. I think she realized that it would never happen, so that is why she started to get apprentices to teach its ways of healing. I wish now that I had been more involved with her teachings and curanderismo. I realize in her death that I regretfully kept it at a distance. It was hard to share my mother with everyone and curanderismo.  In my young, immature mind, I just wanted a “normal “mother, and didn’t embrace her uniqueness and creativity until much later in my life.  She made a difference in so many lives, and I didn’t see it then. Amazingly, her teachings still live inside of me and go forth through to the many of her apprentices. Several of these apprentices have become my “new mothers” to remain as a part of my life and to let me know that I am loved. (Virginia Marie Rincon is one of them.)

 I love her for who she was, and for all the good she did in her life. She had so much courage on her life journey to get curanderismo to where it is today in her community. Her love and spirit live securely within my heart, and I’m grateful for all the qualities we share. I am proud to be her legacy.

I see Elena as a great figure of in-betweeness. She was trained in modern medicine and psychology, especially the psychology of sexual abuse and yet her main passion seemed to have been curanderismo and incorporating traditional forms of healing in modern western medicine. She seemed to be very adept at taking the best of both.

Would you agree with this description? Why or why not?

Yes, the irony of mixing the old medicine with the new is what she did best. She had no problem using old healing techniques when appropriate, or referring to a medical physician if it was beyond her scope of practice. She had the trust from people of all walks of life, and even the respect of the medical profession. She made it work so healing could take place effectively. She had all the knowledge from nursing school and working as a psychiatric nurse for many years, but possessed empathy, intuition, and a caring heart that can’t be learned in a university. She believed that healing was acquired by heart to heart encounters, and she was a remarkable healer with her method.

I have heard talks by Elena and read in her work that at the time she was studying curanderismo she would wear traditional Mexican clothing as she was going through a process of finding herself and perhaps settling into a more Mexican identity. I know she also said some of her relatives were unhappy with that and felt she was ’becoming an Indian’. Were you around in that transitional time? What did you and others think?

When she worked at the hospitals in her "8-5" jobs, she dressed very professional in her suits, heels, and her hair was a lighter brown with curls. Oh...she was so beautiful. I used to hate when we went places together they always thought we were sisters. In those days, her name was "Helen” (we lived in the white neighborhood and she was climbing the career ladder nicely). When she left those jobs and started to go more into her own thing of studying curanderismo and giving lectures, she changed her name back to "Elena"; still beautiful, but no need for fancy clothes and hairdos for work. She dressed "normally" and always looked nice, just more casual. She had her hair more of its natural black color, but she always got her hair done nicely at the beauty shop when she could afford to. She loved clothes and shoes...that didn't change. She would only wear her ceremonial  dresses at lectures and workshops. She dealt with all the issues that women deal with...weight, self-esteem, etc. I did visit her often when she lived in Albuquerque. 

So, does that mean to say that she never fully changed her form of dress then?

Yes. It definitely wasn't her main form of dress. People/family get uncomfortable when they think you should have a certain profession, and when you deviate they get uncomfortable with it, and don't always understand why the person is doing the change. Sure she had a successful career, but she hated the politics and the mechanics of the hospital setting, and she wanted the change. She never had the financial stability with this change, but she was much happier. Her father's comment was probably more of a judgment of her identity change, not her clothing choices.

Is there anything else you could or would like to add about who you saw Elena to be?

I just want you to know that she was an ordinary woman with extraordinary gifts of healing others. She may be gone now physically, but she’s still with us in spirit to continue the healing. She set curanderismo teachings of old, traditional healing and its wisdom of past ancestors into motion many years ago so that others could benefit from it for generations to come!  Ometeotl^[6]               

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[1] “Returning to the Center” with Elena Avila, Institute of Noetic Sciences, http://noetic.org/library/audio-lectures/elena-avila-returning-center-part/, 30 June 2013, last accessed.

[2] See, for example, the articulate criticisms of independent researcher Edward B. Holman who created a great deal of discussion amongst the reviewers of Avila’s book on Amazon.com: http://www.amazon.com/review/RR7X69C9YBE4W/ref=cm_cr_pr_viewpnt#RR7X69C9YBE4W, (last accessed 3, 23, 2015). Holman’ s critique, in my reading of it, is focused on the modernist and postmodernist elements of Avila’s understanding of tradition, from a traditionalist point of view. Other reviewers, not surprisingly, contest one another’s understanding of authenticity and Holman’s.

[3] Interview, Sondie Skory, below.

[4] “Returning to the Center” with Elena Avila, Institute of Noetic Sciences, http://noetic.org/library/audio-lectures/elena-avila-returning-center-part/, 30 June 2013, last accessed.

[5] ‘My little daughter’.

[6] Nahuatl: ‘’The resolution of opposites’, ‘The archetypes of duality’. This phrase is used amongst some schools of curanderos/curanderas in the US and Mexico for many purposes, particularly at the end of a ritual or platica.