To compensate trans and transvestite victims of police violence
The trans and transvestite population suffered—and continues to suffer—systematic persecution and violations of human rights by the Argentine State. LGBTI organizations are promoting "Recognizing is Repairing," a campaign that seeks to make this violence visible and pass into law the bill for a gratuity pension for survivors. By: @Inflafoy Photos: Ariel Gutraich Norma…
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The trans and transvestite population suffered—and continues to suffer—systematic persecution and violations of human rights by the Argentine State. LGBTI organizations are promoting "Recognizing is Repairing," a campaign that seeks to make this violence visible and pass into law the bill for a gratuity pension for survivors.
By: @Inflafoy
Photos: Ariel Gutraich
Norma Girardi is 63 years old, missing her transvestite contemporaries, and considers herself a survivor. Evicted from her family home as a child, her entire life was marked by persecution. “I lived through the 1960s and 1970s; they were horrible times. We went out to work—prostitution was the only way out—and we had to carry a little bag of toothpaste and a towel because we knew we wouldn't come back. We would end up in a cell, sleeping on those wet cement beds, because they would get us wet, among other things.” Rape was also common, as were insults and beatings.
She lost count of the number of times she was arrested. On more than one occasion, she spent a month in the Devoto prison. If they didn't wait for her at the exit, they'd lock her up again. "We preferred to be taken to Devoto because in the police stations they could make you disappear, do anything."


She began her activism twenty years ago when she met sexual diversity activist Lohana Berkins. “I was walking along Corrientes Avenue and she approached me to give me a leaflet and invite me to a march in Plaza de Mayo against police edicts. She said, ‘We’re waiting for you, comrade.’” Together they founded ALLIT (Association for the Struggle for Transvestite and Transsexual Identity), and she served as the organization’s secretary until Lohana’s death in February of this year.
When Lara Bertolini decided to embrace her transvestite identity, she was 23 years old and a sales assistant at a bank. What she gained in inner liberation, she lost in rights: she had to quit her job, leave home, and lose social security. “These were all things I could access until then as a gay man, camouflaging myself,” she says. In the 1990s, she began working as a public relations officer for a Buenos Aires underground club. She earned more than at the bank; she could be herself, and for the first time, she felt like she belonged. Until she learned of the police edicts.


One night, the police entered the premises and took her to jail without any explanation. There she learned about Article 2 and subsections H and F. “The first was for being a transvestite, the second for prostitution, although at that time I wasn't yet a sex worker. But to the police, it was all the same.” She spent 48 hours in detention and was once again unemployed. It was the first time she feared being killed for who she was. The second time, when a police officer tried to rape her and she refused, he pointed a gun at her head, firing the trigger three times. There was a third time, when her face was disfigured for weeks. This year, she joined the Lohana Berkins Collective and is active with Abosex.
Marcela Tobaldi was homeless when the police arrested her to take her to the police station. It was winter, and she had a severe cold. “I was running a snot, and while they were handcuffing me, I asked the police to let me clean myself. Not only did they not let me, but every time I asked, they tightened the handcuffs even more.” When she arrived at the police station, her wrists were covered in blood. They kept her locked in a cell for two days. “I have hundreds of stories like that, just like my colleagues.” Today, she is a member of the Florida Front.


Paula Arraigada was in Parque Patricios with other transvestites when the police attacked one of them, took off her wig and stripped her naked, forcing her to run like that in the middle of winter. When her companions began screaming for help, they pointed a gun at them to silence them. She is also part of the Florida Front and, along with Tobaldi, also highlights the importance of a transgender employment quota law.


In addition to campaigning for the rights of trans people from different perspectives, Norma, Lara, Marcela, and Paula are some of the survivors who are currently part of "Recognizing is Repairing." This campaign seeks to pass Bill 8194 into law, which establishes a gratuity pension for victims of institutional violence based on gender identity. Created by transvestite leaders Marlene Wayar and Lohana Berkins, the bill was presented to the National Congress on October 6 with the signatures of 22 representatives. It is the result of a collective initiative promoted by the organizations Abosex, Alitt, Futuro Transgenérico, and MAL (Anti-Discrimination Liberation Movement, founded by the transvestite activist Diana Sacayán, who was murdered last year).


It's estimated that around 300 people across the country could receive this pension; few of them make it to old age: the life expectancy of a trans person is 35 years. "Many were killed, others died of poverty and illness, and those who could left the country," Emiliano Litardo, a member of Abosex, Presentes
" Recognize is to Repair " campaign has already carried out several actions both on social media and in the streets (the most recent was a photo op in front of Congress ) and its goal is to continue gaining supporters in different political spaces. "If necessary, we will go in person to speak with representative by representative, senator by senator. Let them see our faces and tell us whether they will support us or not," says Bertolini.
"Our priority is to see if next year we can get it discussed in the first committee that considered the bill, the Internal Security Committee. The bill now has the signatures of around twenty legislators: the majority from the Front for Victory and the entire left-wing bloc. The signatures of the PRO and UCR are still missing," Litardo adds.


How to criminalize identities
The criminalization of sexual diversity, and particularly trans identities, was long enshrined in the Police Edict's Contravention Procedure Regulations. Drafted in 1870 and in force until 1996, the history of these edicts captures the mechanisms of state surveillance and repression targeting identities considered abnormal , deviant , and amoral within the framework of the hygiene policies of the various governments in power, both de facto and democratic. In Article 2, under the subtitle "Scandal," sections F, H, and I are developed. "F" penalizes people "who exhibit themselves in public dressed or disguised in clothing of the opposite sex," "H" penalizes those who "incite or publicly offer carnal intercourse, without distinction of sex," and "I" penalizes "subjects known as perverts in the company of minors under 18 years of age."
“The edicts criminalize an individual based on an identity. No intentional conduct is criminalized. This is called 'author's doctrine' in law. These individuals were penalized without naming them, but rather through characterization, and so everything worked by association: a common sense is established. For example: a pervert is a homosexual, and a transvestite is a prostitute. These edicts tell a story, of how the idea of police security arose not to counteract crime but to maintain social order. To establish who is or is not allowed to transit in public spaces,” says Litardo.


In the collective books on the history and living conditions of the trans community, “La gesta del nombre propio” (2005) and “Cumbia, copeteo y lágrimas” (2008), compiled by Lohana Berkins, it was found, among other things, that the greatest human rights violations protected by police edicts occurred in the Autonomous City of Buenos Aires , where many trans girls ended up escaping provincial violence and looking for work. “Killings on the highway were common, among other things. Here, the morality patrols operated systematically; they kept an eye on where their comrades were, but also on homosexuals. It was a repeated pattern,” Litardo adds.
In 1996, 19th-century police edicts were transformed into the Code of Misdemeanors, and while archaic statutes were eliminated, institutional violence is far from eradicated. Representatives of various organizations advocating for sexual diversity report that it has worsened in the last year, since President Mauricio Macri took office. The greatest danger for the trans population is in the provinces.
“So far this year, there have been about 16 murders of transvestites. There's no official survey; we're counting them; last week there were two. Mendoza and the north of the country are very dangerous places to be trans. So we say, let's stop for a bit. Something needs to be done now, and the reparations law is so that our surviving colleagues—the few of whom are over forty or fifty and have been through it all—can enjoy a dignified old age,” says Lara Bertolini.


What the project says
Bill 8164 is justified by the guidelines set forth in Principle 28 of the Yogyakarta Principles and the Gender Identity Law passed on May 9, 2012. It establishes that:
- A gratuity pension will be granted to those who have been deprived of their liberty for reasons related to their gender identity as a result of the actions of federal security forces or by order of a judicial authority or the Public Prosecutor's Office under national or federal jurisdiction.
- Particularly benefiting will be those persons to whom sections "F", "H", and "I" of article 2 of the repealed Regulations on Contraventional Procedures of the Police Edict have been applied.
- The benefit will be increased by 30% if the person suffered sexual violence.
- The benefit will be equal to the monthly salary assigned to Category D, Level O, General Group of SINEP. (Ask how much money it is.)
- The implementing body will be the Secretariat of Human Rights of the Ministry of Justice and Human Rights of the Nation.


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