The Mexican Women Who Changed History

The history of women’s suffrage in Mexico is a tale of resilience, political battles, and societal transformation. It is not merely the story of women winning the right to vote; it represents a profound cultural shift and a reimagining of what it means to be a modern nation. Feminist suffrage, as noted by historian Enriqueta Tuñón Pablos, was more than just a concession from those in power—it was a landmark achievement that promised a new era for Mexico, thrusting the country into the global stage of progressive nations.

The journey to women’s suffrage in Mexico was not a straightforward path but rather a complex, winding route marked by key political moments. The struggle spanned decades, involving courageous women who dared to defy the norms of their time. Critical milestones included the drafting of the Constitution of 1917, the political climate of the 1930s under President Lázaro Cárdenas, and the efforts of subsequent presidents Miguel Alemán and Adolfo Ruiz Cortines, culminating in the right to vote being granted to women in 1953.

While President Ruiz Cortines' decision to grant women the right to vote is often seen as the defining moment, it was, in reality, the product of decades of organized movements, petitions, and advocacy by women between 1917 and 1952. These movements were instrumental in pushing the government toward this landmark decision. The suffragette struggle in Mexico, unlike those in the United States or England, was characterized by unique cultural, political, and social challenges.

The Early Years

One of the first significant public demands for women’s political rights came during the drafting of the Constitution of 1917. Hermila Galindo, a trailblazer and private secretary to President Venustiano Carranza, made an impassioned appeal to the Constituent Congress, advocating for women's right to vote. Galindo’s argument was strikingly modern: she highlighted that women were subjected to the same laws as men, paid taxes, contributed to community expenses, and faced the same legal penalties. Despite this, women were denied the rights and privileges that men enjoyed.

Galindo’s plea was a revolutionary moment, exposing the hypocrisy in the legal system that treated women as equals in obligation but not in rights. However, despite her powerful advocacy, the Congress ultimately rejected her proposal. The reasoning, documented in the Journal of Debates of the Chamber of Deputies, was that Mexico lacked a suffrage movement comparable to those in the United States or England. The perception was that Mexican women were still confined to domestic spheres and not actively seeking political participation.

The debates around women’s suffrage in the early 20th century reflected deep-seated societal attitudes. The prevailing belief was that Mexican society was not ready for women to step into public roles. The arguments made in Congress revealed an entrenched gender bias: women were seen as naturally confined to the domestic sphere, their lives intertwined with those of male family members, and the sanctity of the family unit was considered paramount. The notion of women participating in politics was viewed as a threat to this traditional order.

One striking excerpt from the congressional debates illustrates this sentiment: “In the state in which our society finds itself, the activity of women has not left the circle of the domestic home... Women therefore do not feel the need to participate in public affairs, as evidenced by the lack of any collective movement in that regard.” This argument ignored the emerging feminist consciousness and the small but significant efforts by women who were already challenging these societal norms.

The First Feminist Congress

While Congress dismissed the lack of an organized suffrage movement, feminist activism was indeed bubbling beneath the surface. In 1916, one year before the drafting of the Mexican Constitution, the First Feminist Congress was held in Yucatán, a groundbreaking event spearheaded by Governor Salvador Alvarado. This congress brought together women from various parts of Mexico to discuss issues ranging from education and labor rights to women’s political participation. It marked a pivotal moment in the country’s feminist history, showcasing the growing determination of women to claim their place in public life.

The Yucatán Congress was a radical departure from the status quo. It was a space where women could articulate their frustrations with the limited roles assigned to them and envision a future where they could actively shape their society. The congress also served as a crucial platform for networking and mobilizing women, laying the groundwork for future suffrage efforts.

The 1930s and 1940s were decades of gradual progress and setbacks for the suffrage movement. Under President Lázaro Cárdenas, women’s organizations gained visibility, and there was a growing acknowledgment of women’s contributions to national development. Cárdenas’ presidency marked a period of social reform, and women’s issues began to gain traction. However, despite these advances, the right to vote remained elusive.

During these years, women’s groups tirelessly campaigned for political rights, organizing demonstrations, writing petitions, and engaging in public debates. The efforts of these women laid the foundation for a more coordinated and visible suffrage movement. They challenged the notion that women were apathetic about politics and demonstrated that the demand for political participation was both widespread and deeply felt.

The final victory came in 1953, during the presidency of Adolfo Ruiz Cortines. After years of advocacy, Ruiz Cortines signed the amendment that finally granted women the right to vote in federal elections. This moment was not merely a legal change but a transformative shift in the political landscape of Mexico. Women, long excluded from the political process, were now recognized as full citizens with a voice in shaping the nation’s future.

This achievement was celebrated as a triumph of modernity and progress. Mexico, often seen as a traditional and patriarchal society, was now joining the ranks of nations that recognized women’s political rights. For many, this was a sign that Mexico was ready to embrace a new era of gender equality, even if the road ahead would still be fraught with challenges.

A Decade of Feminist Congresses

Between 1920 and 1935, Mexico witnessed an unprecedented surge in feminist activity, marked by numerous congresses and meetings that laid the foundation for the fight for women's rights. These gatherings were more than just discussions; they were hotbeds of revolutionary ideas that fueled a burgeoning movement that challenged the very fabric of Mexican society.

The early 20th century saw a wave of feminist congresses that were instrumental in organizing women and defining their political agenda. These gatherings were not just academic exercises; they were a radical departure from traditional expectations of women, giving them a platform to voice their demands and connect with like-minded activists.

Key meetings included the First Feminist Congress of the Pan-American Women's League in 1923, the Congress of the League of Iberian and Hispanic American Women in 1925, and three National Congresses of Workers and Peasant Women held between 1931 and 1934. These congresses addressed various critical issues, from women’s labor rights to social concerns such as prostitution.

Through these congresses, Mexican women began to articulate a collective feminist identity, pushing for social reforms that extended beyond suffrage. The gatherings were more than just milestones; they marked the emergence of organized women’s activism and laid the groundwork for the formation of feminist organizations across the country. Women from all walks of life came together, realizing the power of their collective voice in demanding change.

From these congresses, two major feminist factions emerged, each with distinct ideologies and strategies but united by a common goal: securing women’s rights in Mexico. The first was the Mexican Feminist Council, led by communist teachers Elena Torres and Refugio García. These women were not just educators; they were revolutionaries, using their roles to advocate for radical social change. Their group became the precursor to the United Front for Women’s Rights (FUPDM), which would play a significant role during the presidency of Lázaro Cárdenas.

The second major group was the Union of American Women (UMA), the Mexican section of the Pan American League, led by Margarita Robles de Mendoza. Unlike the more radical stance of the Mexican Feminist Council, the UMA focused on broader social reforms, often working within the framework of existing political structures. Despite their differences, both factions contributed to a dynamic feminist landscape, illustrating the diversity of thought within the movement and demonstrating that the fight for women's rights was not monolithic but rich with various perspectives and approaches.

The Cárdenas Era

The late 1930s marked a significant turning point for women’s movements in Mexico, driven by the broader social and political reforms of President Lázaro Cárdenas. Cárdenas' government embraced a national political project characterized by increased state intervention in economic and social affairs, the recovery of national resources, agrarian reform, and the organization of workers. This era, known as Cardenismo, created fertile ground for feminist organizations to gain traction.

Women’s organizations became more relevant and visible during this time, bolstered by the state's support. The socialist education policies promoted by Cárdenas framed women as key players in national life, urging them to participate not just as mothers but as active citizens with a role in shaping the country's future. Cárdenas' policies implicitly supported the feminist cause, recognizing women’s potential beyond traditional domestic roles and encouraging their involvement in the broader socio-political landscape.

In 1935, the United Front for Women’s Rights (FUPDM) was established, bringing together 50,000 women from diverse backgrounds and political affiliations across Mexico. This was no small feat—women from different professions, ideologies, and social classes united under a shared banner of fighting for their rights. The FUPDM was not just a suffrage movement; it was a broad-based coalition that included intellectuals, professionals, teachers, liberals, Catholics, union members, political activists, and even veterans of the Mexican Revolution.

The diversity of the FUPDM was its strength. It was a mosaic of voices that transcended class, religion, and political affiliation, showing that the demand for women's rights was not a fringe issue but a widespread social concern. While suffrage was a central goal, the FUPDM also championed basic rights that resonated with women from all walks of life, such as access to medical services, maternity care, and equal pay. These were not just political demands but essential human rights that underscored the interconnected nature of women’s struggles.

The FUPDM’s agenda extended beyond the fight for suffrage, reflecting a holistic approach to women’s rights. The movement’s leaders understood that the vote alone would not solve the myriad problems facing Mexican women. By advocating for social reforms, the FUPDM linked the suffrage movement to broader issues of gender inequality, labor rights, and social justice. This comprehensive vision made the movement relevant to a wide audience and ensured that the fight for women’s rights was seen as integral to the nation’s progress.

The demands of the FUPDM were pragmatic and urgent. They recognized that women's political participation would be meaningless without corresponding social and economic rights. Thus, their activism was as much about transforming everyday life as it was about securing a place in the political arena. By focusing on tangible issues that affected women’s lives, the FUPDM built a movement that was deeply rooted in the lived experiences of Mexican women.

Pushing the Boundaries of Political Norms

For decades, Mexican women fought for the right to vote, employing every strategy imaginable—from proposing political candidates to staging hunger strikes. This relentless struggle reflects not only the determination of these women but also the broader social anxieties and power dynamics at play in Mexico during this tumultuous period.

To ensure their fight for suffrage did not fade into obscurity, Mexican feminists took bold and immediate action. In a daring move, they proposed candidates for deputy positions: Soledad Orozco (PNR) for León, Guanajuato, and Refugio García (FUPDM) for Uruapan, Michoacán. This was a direct challenge to the male-dominated political landscape and a strategic push to place women at the heart of legislative power. However, the authorities quickly dismissed their efforts, citing the need to reform the Constitution before any woman could officially hold office.

This bureaucratic brush-off did not deter the activists—instead, it galvanized them. Their response was nothing short of dramatic: mobilizations, rallies, and public conferences became the order of the day, as women refused to back down. At one point, activists even threatened to set fire to the National Palace, a symbolic act that underscored their growing impatience with empty promises. The movement escalated further when women began a hunger strike right outside the home of President Lázaro Cárdenas, forcing the issue to the forefront of national politics.

Faced with unrelenting pressure, President Cárdenas promised in 1937 to send a bill to Congress to reform Article 34 of the Constitution, which would extend the right to vote to women. The proposal moved swiftly through the legislative chambers, and by December 1937, it had been approved and sent to the state legislatures. By September 1938, a majority of the states had ratified the amendment. It seemed as though victory was finally within reach. All that was needed was the official declaration and publication in the Official Gazette—a formality that, in theory, should have been a simple conclusion to years of struggle.

But the suffrage movement’s celebrations were premature. Despite the broad legislative approval, the process inexplicably stalled. The final step—the publication—never materialized. The amendment languished, unfulfilled, for the remainder of Cárdenas’ term. This delay was not a matter of administrative oversight but, as many suspected, a deliberate political calculation.

The Specter of Political Fear

The suspicion among suffrage activists was that granting women the vote posed a direct threat to the established political order. Soledad Orozco, one of the proposed candidates, articulated a widely held belief: “If they gave us women the vote, we were going to vote for Monsignor Luis María Martínez, who was the bishop at the time [...] the men said: women are coming and they are going to push us aside, and with their political strength they are going to hit us very hard and we will no longer be able to do our own thing.”

This fear was not just about women gaining power; it was about the unpredictable consequences that such empowerment would have on the political landscape. The idea that women might vote in bloc for religious leaders or other conservative figures struck terror into the hearts of the male political elite, who feared losing their grip on power. Women’s suffrage was thus framed not merely as a social reform but as a radical upheaval that could alter the very balance of political power in Mexico.

As Cárdenas’ presidency drew to a close, the momentum of the women’s movement began to falter. Feminist activism, which had once been vibrant and threatening to the status quo, was systematically weakened and fragmented. Much of this was due to the deliberate co-optation of women’s groups by political parties, which sought to institutionalize and control their activism. Instead of a unified feminist front, the movement became divided along party lines, diluting its impact and reducing the once-powerful cries for suffrage to a muted whisper within the halls of institutional politics.

Despite the setback, the protests did not disappear entirely; they simply evolved. Activists like Esther Chapa refused to let the cause die, continuing to press for women’s rights through articles, letters, and public communiqués. Chapa’s tireless advocacy spanned 22 years, during which she repeatedly petitioned Congress to finalize the suffrage amendment. She demanded that the declaration of the reform to Article 34 be included on the legislative agenda, arguing that it had already been approved by both the Chambers of Deputies and Senators, as well as the state legislatures, and only needed a formal declaration by Congress to become law.

Esther Chapa’s public appeals to Congress were a powerful reminder that the fight for suffrage was far from over. In her speeches, Chapa articulated the frustrations of a generation of women who had been promised equality but continued to be sidelined. Her words were not just calls for legal reform; they were impassioned pleas for recognition of women as full citizens with the right to participate in shaping their nation’s future.

She famously urged lawmakers to:

“Request that the declaration of law of the Modification of Article 34 of the Constitution be included in the Agenda of the next period in the terms in which it was approved by the Honorable Chamber of Deputies, by the Honorable Chamber of Senators, and by the local legislatures of the States [...] so that Mexican women, as citizens, enjoy all their political rights.”

Chapa’s relentless advocacy was emblematic of the broader struggle—a struggle marked by incremental progress and repeated setbacks, but always driven by an unshakeable belief in the justice of their cause.

From Aligning with Power to Political Favors

As the 1940s dawned, the women’s movement in Mexico found itself navigating a new political landscape, one where the fiery demands of earlier decades were tempered by the cautious calculations of realpolitik. Women activists, once radical and uncompromising, now found themselves appealing to presidential goodwill in a desperate bid to secure their long-denied rights.

During the 1940s, the once-militant United Front for Women’s Rights (FUPDM) found itself aligning with President Manuel Ávila Camacho’s administration, hoping that he would champion their cause. This marked a shift from confrontation to collaboration, as the FUPDM placed its hopes in the president’s hands, trading radical demands for patient persuasion. They leaned on Ávila Camacho’s promise of support, convinced that he would be the one to finally grant them the right to vote.

In the aftermath of FUPDM’s decline, new groups emerged to keep the momentum alive. Among these was the Revolutionary Women’s Bloc, led by Estela Jiménez Esponda, which sought to continue the fight on FUPDM’s terms. They were joined by the Coordinating Committee for the Defense of the Homeland, under the leadership of María Efraína Rocha, which engaged in activities related to national security and international peace efforts. These groups represented the fracturing yet persistent spirit of the suffrage movement—determined but increasingly fragmented.

In this period of shifting strategies and alliances, new leaders rose to prominence, among them Mrs. Amalia Castillo Ledón. Known for her savvy blend of charm and tenacity, Castillo Ledón did not confine her activism to Mexico; she took her fight international, pressing Latin American governments to grant women the vote. Her influence extended beyond borders, positioning her as a leading figure in the broader struggle for women’s rights across the region.

Castillo Ledón’s approach was distinctly diplomatic. She understood that the suffrage battle was not just about domestic policy but also about reshaping Mexico’s image on the global stage. She used her platform to lobby, persuade, and pressure, framing women’s suffrage as not only a domestic right but a symbol of modernity that aligned with Mexico’s ambitions to be seen as a progressive nation.

The Alemán Campaign

As the 1940s drew to a close, the Mexican women’s movement faced yet another turning point. Miguel Alemán, the charismatic candidate for the presidency, became the new focus of their efforts. However, by this time, the tone of the movement had shifted noticeably. No longer were women marching through the streets in militant defiance, demanding their rights as equals. Instead, their appeals had softened into requests—courteous, measured, and couched in language that sought to please rather than provoke.

On July 27, 1945, Alemán was the guest of honor at a carefully staged rally at Arena Mexico, where the once-combative suffrage activists now appealed to him with the decorum of supplicants. Women no longer demanded their right to vote as a matter of justice; instead, they framed it as a favor to be granted by the benevolent hand of the presidency. In his speech, Alemán acknowledged their request, pledging to incorporate women into public life in a way that would benefit the entire nation.

“In a modern country,” Alemán proclaimed, “it is necessary to be coherent and equal—men and women alike.” Yet, this newfound equality came with a caveat. He called upon women to “ensure the reproduction of the family,” urging them to remain rooted in traditional roles: the loyal sister, the demure daughter, the self-sacrificing wife, and the incomparable mother. Alemán’s vision of equality was decidedly conservative—women could step into public life, but not too far, and never at the expense of their domestic duties.

Once in power, Miguel Alemán made good on his promise, though the result was far from the sweeping victory that many suffragists had envisioned. On February 17, 1947, the reform to Article 115 was published in the Official Gazette, marking a significant but incomplete step forward. This amendment granted women the right to vote in municipal elections, allowing them a voice in local matters but still excluding them from national elections.

Nevertheless, this reform opened new doors for women in Mexican politics. Not long after, women began to hold local office for the first time, setting an important precedent for future generations. Among the trailblazers were Aurora Fernández, who became a delegate in Milpa Alta, and Guadalupe Ramírez, who held a similar post in Xochimilco. These appointments were small but symbolically powerful victories, signaling that women were finally, albeit slowly, being integrated into the political fabric of the nation.

The 1940s marked a profound transformation in the character of the women’s suffrage movement in Mexico. What had begun as a radical, disruptive force—threatening hunger strikes, burning palaces, and issuing uncompromising demands—had evolved into a more restrained, diplomatic endeavor. Women’s organizations shifted from confrontational activism to strategic alliances with political power, trading some of their independence and radical edge for the promise of incremental progress.

Yet, this transformation was not simply a sign of the movement’s weakness. It was, in many ways, a savvy adaptation to the political realities of the time. By aligning with powerful male leaders like Alemán and Ávila Camacho, women’s groups managed to secure important concessions that would have been impossible through confrontation alone. They understood that the key to lasting change lay not in head-on battles but in shrewd negotiation and the careful cultivation of political goodwill.

From Promise to Disillusionment

By the mid-1950s, after decades of fervent activism, political machinations, and complex negotiations, Mexican women finally won the right to vote. This victory, however, was not merely the result of militant demands or grassroots movements; it was also shaped by a series of strategic compromises, quirky alliances, and deeply ingrained social attitudes that both advanced and constrained the progress of women’s rights.

By the early 1950s, Mexico had seen the formation of various women’s organizations, each promising to elevate the status of women and secure their political rights. The Women’s Council of Mexico and the Confederation of Women of Mexico were among the notable groups, but they struggled to make a lasting impact. Their tone mirrored the cautious optimism of the era, but they ultimately failed to transcend the patriarchal barriers that kept women on the political sidelines.

It wasn’t until April 1952 that a more decisive step was taken when Amalia Castillo Ledón founded the Alliance of Women of Mexico (AMM) with the backing of then-President Miguel Alemán and presidential candidate Adolfo Ruiz Cortines. The AMM aimed to unify and energize the women’s movement, but even this new organization carried the subtle undertones of political expediency rather than radical transformation.

Amalia Castillo Ledón, a key figure in this chapter of Mexican suffrage history, was a sophisticated blend of modern feminist ideals and traditional values. She argued that the age-old debate over male superiority was passé and scientifically unsubstantiated. “Science has not shown that women are superior or inferior to men,” she said, “but simply different.” Her statement was a clever pivot from the polarizing debates of earlier generations, presenting gender differences as a neutral fact rather than a hierarchy.

Yet, Castillo Ledón’s vision of gender equality was paradoxical. She promoted the idea that improving women’s social status would make them better mothers, wives, and housekeepers—a rhetoric that tethered female empowerment to traditional roles. Her advocacy for women’s rights was not about dismantling the domestic sphere but enhancing it. This nuanced stance reflected the broader societal belief that even as women gained more public presence, their ultimate contribution remained anchored in the home.

As Adolfo Ruiz Cortines campaigned for the presidency in 1952, he too approached women’s suffrage from an angle that reinforced traditional gender norms. At a rally on April 6, 1952, at the 18 de Marzo sports stadium, he made his position clear: women should participate in politics not out of a sense of equality or justice, but because their intrinsic qualities as mothers and caretakers would enrich the political landscape. According to Ruiz Cortines, women’s political involvement would help solve social issues from within the family—through “self-sacrifice, work, spiritual and moral strength.”

This paternalistic view positioned women’s rights not as an end in themselves but as a tool for societal improvement, guided by women’s presumed moral superiority and domestic instincts. Ruiz Cortines was essentially telling Mexican women: You have a place in politics, but only as long as you bring your nurturing, home-oriented sensibilities with you.

The Final Push

Once elected president, Ruiz Cortines wasted no time in sending a suffrage initiative to Congress, igniting a political firestorm. Despite resistance, particularly from the conservative National Action Party (PAN), which feared that granting women the vote would become a political win for the ruling Institutional Revolutionary Party (PRI), the initiative gained traction. For PAN, the issue was less about women’s rights and more about who would reap the political credit for finally delivering suffrage—a stark reminder that women’s citizenship was still a bargaining chip in a male-dominated game.

The resistance was fierce, but the tides had turned. In October 1953, the Mexican government published the long-awaited decree in the Official Gazette, officially granting women the right to vote and stand for election. The moment was historic, but it was also tinged with irony: a battle that had raged for decades, driven by the tireless efforts of countless women, was ultimately framed as a gift bestowed upon them by the male political establishment.

While the 1953 decree marked a watershed moment, it was a victory that came with strings attached. For many women, the right to vote and be elected was seen not as a culmination of their efforts but as a strategic move by the government to present Mexico as a modern, progressive nation. The suffrage victory was less about genuine gender equality and more about projecting an image of national advancement on the international stage.

Even as women gained the legal right to participate in politics, their societal roles remained narrowly defined. Political participation was framed as an extension of their domestic duties rather than a break from them. In the eyes of the establishment, women were now citizens, but citizens whose primary responsibility remained within the household.

The winding route to women’s suffrage in Mexico is a testament to the resilience and adaptability of the women who fought for it. Their struggle was marked by contradictions: they were radicals forced to make concessions, activists who had to play the game of polite politics, and leaders who had to balance calls for equality with the expectations of traditional femininity.

This complicated legacy serves as a reminder that the fight for women’s rights is rarely straightforward. It is a patchwork of wins and losses, of radical demands tempered by pragmatic compromises. The suffragists of Mexico were pioneers navigating a path that was never linear marked by fiery speeches, strategic alliances, and a constant negotiation of what it meant to be a woman in public life.

Today, Mexican women continue to build on the foundation laid by these early suffragists. They participate in politics, lead movements, and challenge the status quo in ways their predecessors could only dream of. But the lessons of history remain relevant: the road to equality is often winding, and progress, however celebrated, is seldom as simple as it seems.

In-text Citation: (Espinosa Torres, 2024, pp. 42-45)