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Claudia Vásquez Haro, president of OTRANS Argentina, led a historic mission to the UN: on behalf of 22 organizations, she delivered a report denouncing the human rights situation of transvestites and transgender people in Argentina. This report explores the life and activism of a leading figure who held the Argentine State accountable.

Photos: Ariel Gutraich

At first glance, it might seem like a coincidence, but it's a sign of the times. A few days ago, Claudia Vasquez Haro walked, nervous yet smiling, through the corridors of the UN offices in Geneva. She was on a historic mission: it was the first time the UN Committee on the Elimination of Discrimination against Women (CEDAW) had received a report on the human rights situation of transgender and transvestite people in Argentina , prepared by twenty-two organizations. It was a troubling document, a denunciation with concrete data on mistreatment and police violence, illegal detentions, lack of access to justice and public policies, and criminalization. Claudia, president of OTRANS—one of the collectives she belongs to—was chosen to travel and present it to the UN.

Back in Buenos Aires, she spoke with Presentes at the Memory and Human Rights Space, the site where, 40 years ago, one of the largest clandestine torture and extermination centers of the State Terrorism operated. Since 2012, she has worked in the press department. Born in Trujillo, Peru, Claudia moved to Argentina in 2000 and has achieved a small Guinness World Record for political achievements. She graduated from the Faculty of Journalism and Social Communication at the University of La Plata—where she is a professor—the first public university in the country and in Latin America to respect and recognize, since 2008, the self-perceived gender identity of its students. She was also the first transgender graduate; and in 2012, after the Gender Identity Law was passed, she became the first transgender migrant woman to receive a national identity document in Argentina. 2012 was a year full of milestones: from the enactment of that law, together with other trans and transvestite people, they formed the organization OTRANS, accompanied by the Faculty of Journalism, where today she is Secretary of Sexual Diversity.

Claudia retains the sweetness of her Peruvian accent, but speaks with the fierce conviction that only the streets and struggles can instill. Her vehemence and political context were honed within the halls of academia.

-What is the most serious concern of the trans and transvestite organizations that they brought to Geneva?

The resurgence of institutional violence is what we brought to the CEDAW. If we can't walk freely in the streets, it's impossible to think about education in other spaces. We say there's been a regression in the practices being carried out, which, as happened in the 90s with trans women, are hostile and overwhelming. The neoliberal policies of the 90s are bringing back a similar scene, albeit with different elements. We are experiencing persecution. These hardline policies are impacting the bodies of the most vulnerable. And the most vulnerable in Argentina are trans women and transvestites.

-What differences do you find compared to those scenarios?

“We knew this was going to happen, but it finds us at a different moment: in the 90s we hadn't yet become political subjects in large numbers. For me, the barometer is the National Women's Meeting. At this year's meeting in Rosario, it was incredible to see the workshop led by our trans comrades, so massive and with such profound political discussion. I remember going to the Meeting after the Gender Identity Law in 2012. Before that, there was a dispute with feminism because some groups didn't consider us women. And there were Lohana (Berkins) and Diana (Sacayán), there was Marlene, and there I was, as always, trying to squeeze in through a crack, all of us trying to address the issue carefully.”

-Did the passage of the Gender Identity Law also impact the women's movement?  

Yes, because once the law was passed, it not only institutionalized the workshop for trans women and transvestites, of which there were few. At that time, a few years ago, the only ones who spoke out could be counted on one hand—and I'd still have fingers to spare! Today I see a new generation with training, political discussion, and a clear understanding of our reality. And the grassroots are demanding more. I think all of that culminated in the report we submitted to CEDAW.

I was recently in Brazil, at the Forum on Women's Rights and Development in Salvador, Bahia, organized by the feminist organization AWID (Association for Women's Rights and Development). I saw how we have been building and writing our own history, and rewriting it, through grassroots activism in the streets. And I thought that these are the paths we have been traveling, and they are the legacy of Lohana and Diana .

.-Is submitting a report to CEDAW on the situation of trans and transvestite people, prepared by victims of police violence, also historic?

-Yes, going to CEDAW involved a process of putting together that report ourselves, and it's interesting to share it. We were protagonists from the preliminary preparations. The Center for Legal and Social Studies (CELS) convened us; in fact, we started the dialogue earlier, based on the ruling of Claudia Córdova Guerra (the Oral Criminal Court 1 of La Plata convicted her for alleged drug trafficking and cited as aggravating factors the fact that she was a trans woman and Peruvian).

Increasing violence and complaints

OTRANS La Plata and the La Plata, Berisso, and Ensenada LGBT Organizations Front have been denouncing the increase in police abuses since the beginning of the year, primarily against the trans and migrant population. While systematizing complaints and testimonies, they began discussions with CELS (Center for Legal and Social Studies) about preparing a report documenting police violence and also the violence perpetrated by the justice system against trans people, mainly migrants. In La Plata in particular, OTRANS denounces double discrimination: based on gender identity and place of origin.

“Around that time, the United Nations Special Rapporteur on the fight against xenophobia and racism was in Argentina. We started thinking that in November Argentina would be submitting its report, as it does every four years, to CEDAW. CELS convened about 20 organizations. We told them: ‘We don’t want to be cited, we want to be the ones to write it.’ CELS said, ‘Of course.’”

This is how the report was produced and edited, focusing on the vulnerable groups. It has four main sections: legal framework, institutional violence, and specific issues (trans children, migrants, and trans men). It involved bringing together all trans and travesti organizations in Argentina and sharing their work. They entrusted OTRANS with documenting our current reality on the international stage, highlighting our commitment but also what comes next: follow-up.

Claudia, as a representative of OTRANS, was one of ten Argentinian women, representing seven organizations, who presented reports in Geneva. Among the urgent issues were abortion, the imprisonment of Milagro Sala, the lack of policies to curb gender violence, and the health problems faced by rural women.

When the day of her presentation in Geneva arrived, Claudia was anxious and worried: there were only a few minutes left in her allotted time, and she'd barely had a chance to speak. Accustomed to fighting back with the weapons of diplomacy, sitting across from the Brazilian feminist Silvia Pimentel, Claudia whispered, "We brought a report on the situation of transvestite and trans women." "Wonderful!" replied the Brazilian, and began asking her some questions, which she concluded with a phrase that still resonates with Claudia: "Argentina, always paving the way."

The following day, based on this and other reports, a committee representing the Argentine State had to answer further questions from the same committee. For example: What public policies is the Argentine State implementing to enable transgender women to access the labor market and avoid prostitution? And also: "We would like the Argentine State to explain why it has not complied with the resolution to release Milagro Sala."

From the National Council for Women, Fabiana Tuñez attempted to answer some questions. Claudia isn't the only one who says that the Argentine government's responses were imprecise and, in some cases, misleading. "They responded that they have a registry of transphobic murders, but their figures, based on what's reported in the media, aren't reliable; they're far from matching the figures we have. The government needs to create a registry, working with the justice system and civil society organizations," Claudia says. Just a few days ago, the UN recommendations incorporated many of the points raised in Geneva.

-What is the current situation of the Argentine State in terms of compliance?

–The UN has publicly expressed concern about the persecution of the trans population, hate crimes, transphobic murders, and the lack of employment for trans women in Argentina. Within two years, the Argentine government must submit a progress report addressing all of the UN's recommendations. A final report must be submitted after four years. We believe we have met the initial objective, but the challenge of follow-up remains. As part of this process, we want to bring together more colleagues to develop an international agenda and increase the number of our members participating, because that is how we become empowered. The challenge is to consider the local, provincial, national, regional, and global levels.

Education as a passport

-At a time of such high visibility as a human rights activist, is there any scene from your childhood that has marked you and that you remember especially?

–I always remember when I was twelve and they expelled me from school. I was studying at an all-boys school, and they told my mother: if I didn't withdraw, they'd file a report against me and I wouldn't be able to study anywhere. She had to take me without protest. I left that century-old school, which we only got into because of the damned meritocracy of top grades, but I wanted to be first; that's how I channeled my libido. I transferred to another school, far away, in the small town where my mother was born. Every day I walked an hour each way, up and down two hills, morning and afternoon, in Santa Rosa de Yamobamba. My mother told me: "Education will be your passport to wherever you want to go." Studying was a privilege; others couldn't afford it, or because they had to take care of the cows.

-And what do you think when you remember that?

The other day I was thinking, "Look what would have happened if I hadn't gotten an education, if I had listened to this heteronormative society that expelled me from school." But most of us have been denied the right to education. School is still profoundly exclusionary. I understand that some of my classmates haven't been able to finish primary school. There's a lack of public policies from a state that looks the other way and from a society that condones these discriminatory practices. And I'm not thinking about this in individual terms, but collectively. We also learned this from the Grandmothers and Mothers of Plaza de Mayo. From speaking out in difficult times, like now, when there's a media blackout, and these stories don't appear. We've brought these stories to light and taken them to the UN: we're learning from the history of these women, how to denounce, how to demand, and also, how to speak in the first person.