Plática Methodology: A Methodology of Healing in Research

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Plática Methodology, Encuentros and Testimonio are some of the methods that I utilize in my research with campus sexual violences survivors. Plática can be a form of intergenerational collaborative storytelling and facilitate healing in many ways. Here’s an excerpt from my dissertation work, testimonio, in the form of a short story that highlights the healing that occurred between two Centroamericana survivors, my mami and I, during a Plática where I disclosed about campus sexual assault:  

I remember moments when I learned that my mami was more than a mother, she was a mujer with life experiences, too. Born and raised in San Pedro Sula and Tela, Honduras with her tias, my mami’s life was full of many stories. Although I always knew she loved me, “las amo hasta la luna” [I love you to the moon], our relationship was complicated growing up. Our intergenerational healing and repair began through pláticas, conversations del corazón, one by one. The first time it happened is the story of when my mami and I sat in deepness with one another for the first time. It was my senior year of college, and I was visiting home for the weekend. My mami had just learned about what I had posted on Facebook the past week. She had learned how to navigate “el feis,” [Facebook] that year to stay connected to family back home. My prima had posted a rape joke on a public family Facebook comment thread. 

What my mami, pa and siblings didn’t know was that I had experienced a sexual assault my sophomore year of college by another student I had trusted — an experience that changed my life. Having worked on my healing that past year and feeling empowered in my experiences as a survivor, I made the decision to say something publicly for the first time since it had happened. I responded to my prima on the post — “as a survivor, I don’t appreciate you laughing about rape”, I wrote under her comment. With my heart racing and a knot in my throat, sabía que mi familia se iba dar cuenta por la primera vez [I knew that my family was going to find out for the first time] of what had happened to me. A word written and left for my family to read— “survivor.”

A week later, as I was sitting on the bed of my high school bedroom getting ready to head outside, my mom saw me and walked in. Taking a moment to look at me, she asked “¿Karlita, te quiero preguntar algo[I want to ask you something]?” I looked at her unaware of what she knew, “¿Que significa lo que le escrbistes a tu prima, te pasó algo? [What does it mean, what you wrote to your cousin? Did something happen?]” My stomach dropped instantly. In a split second I had to make the decision to either lie and brush off the question or be vulnerable and share with my mami what I had withheld from her these past years. I closed my eyes and felt myself let go. I have a vivid memory of the words leaving my mouth. The tears rolling down my cheeks. My fingers fidgeting with the bedsheets where I sat. I shared with her what happened to me in my sophomore year of college in my apartment she had visited countless times before. I remember this plática because my mami’s first response was to ask me “¿por qué dejaste que te pasara esto [Why did you let this happen to you]?”

You see, my mami grew up in a machista culture, a culture that objectifies mujeres, dehumanizes us and often sees us as sexual objects at a young age. Machismo is a culture that blames victims for the violence enacted on us. “Te me cuidas, no dejen que te toquen ahí [take care of yourself, don’t let nobody touch you there],” my mami would tell us growing up as she pointed to the space between our legs. I felt shame for a moment when she asked me that question, a sensation that I felt in the pit of my stomach. I let go a cry of anger and hurt and responded to her, “Mami, esto no fue mi culpa, fue la culpa de esa persona [this was not my fault, the fault is with the other person].” My mami looked at me surprised that I had responded to her in this way. 

Years of pain and resentment had complicated our conversations, but in my heart this one felt different. I could have stayed angry with her in that moment. I could have shouted at her to leave me alone. I could have cut off the conversation because as my counselor had told me – parents might not get it right away or ever, but I chose to lean in. Something in my bodymindspirit told me to be brave and confront what I hadn’t confronted her about. Having worked at a Women’s Resource Center during college and having received education on consent and healthy relationships from my campus sexual assault advocate, peers, mentors and professors, and without knowing at the time, had prepared me for what I said next — el momento pa’ cambiar cosas [the moment to change things]. I responded, “Mami, así no se apoya cuando alguien te cuenta una vivencia de abuso y violenca [this is not how you support someone when they disclose an experience of abuse and violence],” I told her. There was a pause as she looked into my eyes, and before I knew what was happening, she had her arms wrapped around me as the tears began to run down her cheeks. She responded in her soft, empathetic voice, “Mija perdóname, yo no sé de estas cosas [daughter, forgive me, I do not know about these things].” My body softened and we sat there and cried together, holding onto each other until the tears stopped. 

It was that day when our pláticas began – mujer a mujer. Pláticas can be defined as conversations about every day experiences and transformative moments that shape who we are and how we understand ourselves in multiple mundos [worlds]. My mami and I have cried together more since then. What I learned that day was that my mami was a survivor of gender-based violence. Later, I learned that my Abuelita Rosita and my great abuelita were also survivors of gender-based violence, too. We had pláticas, accompañadas with more pláticas, until I had learned about the intergenerational and historical trauma that had impacted the lineage of us mujeres, a history tied to both Central America and Oaxaca – my maternal and paternal ancestral lineages. 

Plática is where and how my mom learned to support me through my healing that last year of college until I graduated later that year. Plática is the space where she learned to forgive herself and forgive her mother’s pain. It is in our shared stories, our testimonios and in our conocimientos where I learned about my mami and she learned about me. It is in this sacred space where I found her truth, where I found forgiveness, and where we found our healing together.