“Caretakers”: A documentary about the encounter between trans women and older adults
Diversity in the world of care is told in an Argentine documentary about trans women who gained access to the Santa Ana public nursing home through the job quota law.
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BUENOS AIRES, Argentina. Memories, life, laughter, tenderness, melancholy. It all comes together within the walls of the Santa Ana public nursing home in San Andrés, Buenos Aires province. This is where Cuidadoras (Caregivers), a documentary directed by Martina Matzkin and Gabriela Uassouf, was filmed. It portrays the work of three trans women in a public home for the elderly.
The caregivers are Luciana, Maia, and Yenifer, and the film chronicles their first days at the home. It also shows how, over time, they become more familiar with the residents and their work.
Caretakers " premiered in June at the Gaumont cinema and will continue playing through the first week of July. It will then travel to Rosario, Tandil, and Santa Fe.
A formal job
For the first time, Luciana, from Mataderos, Maia, from Salta, and Yenifer, from Paraguay, have formal employment. Before that, they worked as sex workers. It's a topic of discussion: how little one earns as a caregiver compared to their previous job. At the time of the documentary, their income was low. Three years later, it's much less. Yet, they continue to dedicate themselves to the task.
"The caregivers joined the home because the transgender job quota at the time offered them the opportunity to apply for government jobs ," explains Rocío Pichirelli's producer. Along with the directors, Martina and Gabriela, they were part of the development and organization of a collaborative effort to train transgender people in elder care.
This training was carried out in conjunction with the Mocha Celis Civil Association, the Red Cross, the 3 de Febrero University, the National Directorate of Policies for Older Adults, and the Secretariat for Children, Adolescents, and Families (SENAF), which is currently completely underfunded. The same fate befalls the Santa Ana Home, which is currently in critical condition.
“Santa Anta is one of the few public homes we have in our country. Thanks to all this collaboration, we were able to first offer a course for the girls to train in caring for older adults. And then, the internships. Some at that home and others at PAMI, where some of our colleagues continue to work,” Pichirelli says.
Life at home
The directors chose to portray almost exclusively what happened inside the Santa Ana home. Not much more is known about the caregivers than what the film tells us through their interactions with each other, with other professionals, and of course with the people they care for.
“At some point, we considered going out a little more from home. In fact, we filmed some things, but we realized it was interesting to focus on that place, on that kind of capsule where the encounter takes place. Where each person carries their own story, their own story, and what is forming in that community. We thought it would be richer and more interesting to stay there,” says Martina Matzkin.
“The documentary's story was anchored by echoing what many trans colleagues were asking for during the pandemic: the possibility of a profession, of change. Of making a change in life. And so, this connection between civil society and the state achieved a new course so that these caregivers exist today. What remains as a part of life ends up being more important than what remains on screen,” adds Gabriela Uassouf.
A counter-discourse of love
One of the residents speaks to Maia in the masculine. Her colleague corrects her. Maia smiles and lets her hair down. Using the correct pronoun is still a challenge in this society. However, it doesn't seem to cause major tension in the development of the bond between them and their caregivers.
“ not the first time someone's mispronounced a pronoun; it's common. What's strange is that someone gets the pronoun right, even with their gender identity,” says the producer about these scenes. “We're trying to highlight the fact that anyone can make mistakes. For me, it'll probably be difficult when I'm older and there's a cutting-edge identity,” adds Uassouf.
For both the directors and producers, the film's goal is to spark a debate. "There's a reality: the women who are in front of the camera and so generously shared their stories and put their bodies into it find it very difficult to sustain themselves, given the meager economic value of their work. So we must continue pushing for healthy work spaces that foster growth for trans and cis people," says Matzkin.
“It's a moment of direct and quite brutal attack on successful public policies. But civil society spaces continue to exist, where ideas or alternative ways of life are generated and considered . The human quality remains, that of the caregivers, the residents, the people being educated. We want to defend and continue to sustain those qualities,” adds Pichirelli. “It's about destroying through hate speech, but many times those hate speeches are also sustained by lies and misinformation. So, suddenly bearing witness to things that work, laughing, seeing, learning, getting closer, having empathy, I think it can generate a counter-discourse,” adds Matzkin.
Talk about what's important
“You have to give it your all in advance. That's what's important,” Alicia tells Maia, who's making the bed. In their first encounters, Alicia chooses love topics to connect with her caregiver, Maia. A few weeks later, Maia arrives and fluently tells her how her relationships are going.
“Alicia always seemed to talk about love; she was a bit of a counselor. But it was also funny that she gave Maia love advice and that she listened so patiently. Finally, she found an echo in Alicia to share some things. "For us, it was about listening to the conversations that naturally occurred and starting to choose or refine where to tell a story," explains Uassouf.
"There was a selection and follow-up of those stories. It involved carefully observing reality and trying to guess where it was going."
“Working as a caregiver is wonderful for me.”
Yennifer Franco Pereira is Paraguayan and the only one of the three caregivers in the film who speaks Guaraní. If anything characterizes her interventions in the documentary, besides tenderness, it's complicity. Along with Vicky, a former folk dancer whose dream (now fulfilled) was to star in a film, she listens to Argentine folklore. She asks questions, listens, and searches for more music to continue the conversation. Later, she too will appear in the garden of the Santa Ana Home, sitting next to one of the women. The two laugh, throw crumbs to the pigeons, and speak in Guaraní.
That scene, Yenifer says, is one of her favorites. “I like when I feed the pigeons with a resident. Because of her advanced Alzheimer's, she was losing her Spanish and was increasingly using Guarani. And since I also speak it, we were able to communicate,” she tells Presentes .
Yenifer was one of the trans women invited by the film's production to be part of the documentary. "I think it's so important to share our work because many people in society still judge us for our sexual orientation and believe we're not capable of working like anyone else," she says.
“Working as a caregiver is wonderful for me,” she tells Presentes . “Taking care of someone doesn't sound so easy, but it's something I love doing. I have an excellent working relationship with the elderly, and I see their appreciation and gratitude every day. That makes me feel so good and confident. Beyond loving my job so much, it's essential to sustaining myself, as we all do.”
“We are all going to grow old”
For now, the job of a caregiver isn't enough to overcome all the prejudices society has toward transvestite and trans people.
“People keep pointing fingers at me. When I go to work so early and they're people who go to work just like me, I hear so many innuendos and insults. This happens day after day. It infuriates me, but I always try to ignore people's insults because at my job I have to arrive calmly and with a lot of empathy. I don't allow myself to be affected by the prejudices of ignorant people,” she adds.
Three years after the documentary was filmed, Yenifer still chooses to be a caregiver.
“At work, I continue to learn. I have the experience of working as a team and talking every day with all my colleagues to make our daily work easier.” Still, she says with some anger, “there is a lot of discrimination. I believe there is discrimination against us, especially in the most vulnerable neighborhoods.”
“We have the luxury of living to old age, something others don't,” says Luciana, one of the film's protagonists. The idea of older trans women is still an enigma for a population with a life expectancy of 40 years.
“Imagine if they have to provide care for us,” Maia replies to Luciana. For Yenifer, it's also a mystery, and she acknowledges that, although there is discrimination in old age, it's different. “Discrimination is different because, ultimately, we're all going to grow old.”
Cuidadoras is on at the Gaumont Cinema, Av. Rivadavia 1635, (CABA) until Wednesday, July 9 at 2:15 p.m. and 6:30 p.m.
It will also be shown at the El Cairo cinema in Rosario on Thursday, July 3 at 8:30 p.m. and Sunday, July 6 at 10:30 p.m.
In Tandil, it will be seen on Sunday 6 and Tuesday 8 July at 6 pm at Espacio Incaa Unicen Tandil
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