Song of the Hummingbird

Huitzitzilin is an elderly Mexica woman forced to confront the wreckage of her world, and through her storytelling, Song of the Hummingbird exposes the struggle to redefine colonial narratives and the devastating effects of historical erasure. Historical texts possess immense power to influence the perceptions of entire cultures and immortalize biased views as truth, and they have succeeded in legitimizing exploitation and colonization. By omitting or downplaying the violence inflicted upon the colonized, these narratives can effectively paint colonizers as benevolent conquerors or liberators. They might also depict the colonized as primitive or even inherently violent, justifying the conquest as a necessary act of civilization. Such silencing extends beyond omitting experiences from the record. The very language used in colonial narratives reinforces an unequal power dynamic, portraying the colonized as passive subjects who are acted upon rather than being active participants in their own history.

Huitzitzilin recognizes the devastating impact historical accounts have had on the memory of her people. While deeply invested in having her own story heard and understood, she consistently contextualizes her experiences within the larger historical context of the conquest; she says, “These things happened in my life at the same time, one causing the other” (115). The brutality she witnesses, the oppression she endures, and the cultural devastation she experiences all represent the broader trauma inflicted upon the Mexica people. With this in mind, Huitzitzilin positions herself as a powerful proxy for her people, weaving the collective experiences of loss and suffering into her own life story to ensure they are remembered for posterity.

The Church, through figures like Father Benito and his superior, Father Anselmo, attempts to exert control over Huitzitzilin’s narrative in subtle yet significant ways. Father Anselmo’s dismissal of Huitzitzilin’s account as the fabrications of a “sly old woman” (126) exemplifies the broader attempt to silence Indigenous experiences. This silencing is not merely a matter of omission; it is an active effort to discredit Mexica voices and prioritize Spanish accounts as the ultimate truth. Father Anselmo’s interventions and guidance exposes the institution’s investment in perpetuating a specific narrative—one that justifies the conquest and minimizes Spanish atrocities. This desire for control extends to Father Benito’s own discomfort with Huitzitzilin’s candor. His discomfort with Huitzitzilin’s graphic descriptions and his urging her to avoid blasphemy or “slander[ing] the brave missionaries” who aided the conquest highlight the pervasiveness of the colonial narrative and the pressure to conform to it (103). Father Benito’s expectation that Huitzitzilin omit details that are central to her life and experiences—such as Mexica religious practices deemed heretical by the Church—betrays the limitations of his supposed open-mindedness. He himself acknowledges the hypocrisy inherent in such censorship when “he couldn’t help thinking that it would be equally difficult to speak of his own people without the mention of Jesus Christ” (69). Through this line, Benito unwittingly exposes the double standard at play. While he expects Huitzitzilin to strip her narrative of its cultural and religious context, he cannot imagine his own story being told without mentioning Christianity. Yet, he attempts to hold her to a different standard, highlighting the power dynamics at play. However, Huitzitzilin remains defiant. While she demonstrates a pragmatic willingness to adjust her narrative to ensure the documentation of her account, she refuses to whitewash her experiences or sanitize her narrative to appease the Church’s sensibilities.

While Huitzitzilin’s courage and unwavering voice are central to preserving her narrative, the success of her endeavor relies heavily on Father Benito’s evolving empathy. As Benito immerses himself in Huitzitzilin’s life story, he grapples with the glaring absence of Mexica voices in his own education, which is a stark reminder of the biased nature of his teachings. His initial discomfort and resistance to certain topics gradually give way to a growing sense of empathy. This transformation, highlighted by his recognition that Huitzitzilin’s story “might be as valuable as what the captains of the first discovery had written and dispatched to Spain” (24), challenges the entrenched colonial perspective that dehumanized the Mexica people. Benito does not fully abandon his faith or cultural background, nor does he possess the power to dismantle the systemic inequalities embedded in the colonial project. Still, his willingness to empathize with Huitzitzilin ultimately allows her voice to be heard, and this ensures that the Mexica experience becomes part of the historical record, even within the confines of the colonial system.