Breathe
By Linda Atach
"The Movement had its own independent causes even though many people were dying to get their hands in. Undoubtedly there were such people and many were within the government itself; but we always did what we thought was right."
Luis González de Alba in Los días y los años, 1971.
How did Mexico wake up on the morning of October 3, 1968? How did citizens react when disappearances and femicides were not an everyday occurrence and violence was a contained and controlled practice?
Apologetic and almost apologetic, my mother replied that at that time she was very young and since she did not live near Tlatelolco, she found out about the massacre a month later, when her friend Nidia told her that the day after the carnage, the soldiers could not keep up with the task of washing the blood off the floors and picking up the "hundreds", or rather the "thousands" of corpses scattered around the place.
In 2015 I worked with Segio Aguayo and his team on the exhibition "Lecciones del 68. Por qué no se olvida el 2 de octubre", which was exhibited at the Museo Memoria y Tolerancia between September 2015 and January 2016. I must clarify that in addition to the excitement of working with such an experienced character in the issues of memory, the most striking aspect of the process was the way in which the myths were falling down, starting with the number of dead, which according to Aguayo and Jacinto Rodríguez Mungía, should be set between 45 and 50 and not in the hundreds or thousands that still shape the imaginaries that narrate the event.
Securing a verifiable death toll has complex effects. Reducing an undetermined number to 45 or 50 people with life stories and claiming relatives disturbs the narrative, makes it much more realistic and painful, more in need of justice for the victims and reparations for their loved ones.
In a comparative tone and as a closure to the exhibition, we included the museographic montage of 43 empty desks with a floral offering with the purpose of remembering, but also to commit more answers for Ayotzinapa one year after the disappearance of the normalistas. It is not superfluous to conclude that the exhibition was one of the most attended that the museum has had, although we were surprised that visitors were more surprised by the mapping that was projected on the recreation of the buildings of Tlatelolco, the photographs of Luis González de Alba and the space dedicated to contextualize the image of the Olympic Mexico, than by the novelty of the number of dead.
Eleven years after the awakening the day after the massacre, it is clear to us that the State's pending tasks have accumulated to the point of overflowing. But where does society stand, how far do our actions and the extent of our apathy reach?
To answer these questions I can find nothing more explicit than the cardboard published by Abel Quezada on page 7 of Excélsior on October 3, 1968, just a few hours after the massacre that stained the country a few days before its debut as an Olympic venue.
With the economy of means of a black rectangle headed with the question "Why?" and ending with the inscription: "October 2, 1968", Quezada's intuition surpassed by far the yellowish headlines that disclosed the attempts to thwart the Olympics and the shootings between the army and snipers.
As dark as the powers that be dedicated to denying that Tlatelolco had been a State crime until its recognition in 2018, Quezada's interpretation continues to reveal to us the murkiness that was woven around the massacre, but also forcing us to reflect on impunity and the path we must choose as a society: Light, darkness, silences, actions?
Before deciding, let us remember 68. It is always worth opting for "never again".
The opinions expressed are the responsibility of the authors and are absolutely independent of the position and editorial line of Opinion 51.
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