On August 1, I was looking for resources to share about Black August and naturally thought of Carolina. She’d written a book on it in Spanish, after all. For many years, she had organized events in Mexico commemorating Black August, seeking to lift up the legacy and ongoing struggle of the Black liberation movement and its political prisoners and prisoners of war. While I didn’t end up using any of her work that day in what I shared, remembering her called forth a wave of fond recollections. I made a mental note to reach out to her, as we hadn’t been in touch in a couple of years. Sadly, a few hours later, I heard from compas in Mexico that she passed away that morning.
Common adjectives that have been used to remember Carolina Saldaña include relentless, tireless, and unceasing. They are all accurate and true. Carolina was truly a force, guided by a commitment and passion for solidarity and freedom that compelled her work over the years that I had the honor to know her. We first connected in 2008, when I began working with the now-defunct website El Enemigo Común. Carolina was already involved – unsurprisingly – as she seemed to be active with most independent media projects in Mexico. Our communication originated over email until we had the opportunity to meet in person a couple of years later during one of my trips to Mexico.
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I recall the first time I met her, my ageist self was surprised at how old she was. In my head, radicals were young people, but here was someone who could have been my grandmother (I estimated). She may not even have known it, but her mere presence challenged preconceptions of mine and helped me grow. I don’t recall what we talked about, but I remember her energy. She had a sharp and clear political analysis but also a compassionate smile that extended to her eyes when topics veered toward the personal.
Another time we got together she brought me to the Okupa Che and introduced me to folks there. What would seem discordant on the surface – an elderly woman kicking it with young anarcho-punks – was far from that. Indeed, that was what Carolina did. She built connections, networks, community. If anything, she was a translator of struggle, that crucial, unsung node of communication and information that turns what seem to be disparate fights into mutually reinforcing ones through the act of rendering them legible to one another. As such, she translated the fight for the freedom of Mumia Abu-Jamal or the MOVE 9 into a language that brought hundreds into the streets of Mexico City to protest at the U.S. Embassy. In turn, social movements in Mexico gained international attention among those dedicated to the freedom of Black liberation movement prisoners, largely through her work, as exemplified by Mumia discussing Ayotzinapa in his farewell to Carolina.
The most notable aspect of all of Carolina’s efforts was her selflessness. She wrote and translated furiously. She organized incessantly. She was a mainstay of movements that ran the gamut from fighting for the freedom of political prisoners to Atenco to Ayotzinapa to Ostula to Oaxaca. Yet she never did so in an effort to call attention to herself. Again, more like a translator than an author, she always put the cause front and center. She was immensely private about her life but gregarious and open with her time. What hits the hardest for me about the loss of Carolina is the loss of the whole being, not just the political partisan. With her, I shared much pain, confusion, difficulty, and joy. She always lent an open ear, a compassionate heart, and wise advice. She was never condescending, patronizing, or too busy for a friend who needed support. When I think of her, I think first of those conversations where I felt seen, heard, and cared for. I will miss that. I will miss my friend who was also a compa. We didn’t always see eye to eye on everything. I wouldn’t even know how to label her politics. But the foundation was one of respect, love, and solidarity.
I am not alone in missing Carolina, as hopefully the images accompanying this piece can attest. There is much more to say about her, but it is not my story to tell. This place is emptier without her presence and her fire. Journey well, my friend. You are missed and you are loved. Thank you for your example. Thank you for all you gave.
Support for Caro from outside Mexico is being deposited into this account: https://paypal.me/argomauta
