Daliri Oropeza Álvarez, Yaquis: La Resistencia Imbatible

Oropeza Álvarez, Daliri. 2024.Yaquis: La Resistencia Imbatible. México City: Rosa-Luxemburg Stiftung. 183 pp.

Daliri Oropeza Álvarez’s Yaquis: La Resistencia Imbatible (the unbeatable resistance) stands as a powerful testament to the persistent struggle and resilience of the yaquis^[1] people within Sonora, Mexico. Blending investigative journalism, ethnography, and visual storytelling, Oropeza Álvarez, a Mexican journalist and photographer, crafts a work that is as urgent as it is empathetic. Her book is not just a recounting of historical grievances but a living document of the yoemes^[2] ongoing fight for justice, dignity, and survival, specifically indigenous land and territory. Ethnomusicologists and musicologists alike will find interest in the chapter “Pueblo Yaqui recupera la Danza del Coyote” (Pueblo Yaqui Recovers the Coyote Dance) as it details the yaquis resurrection of an endangered traditional war dance (43). Emerging scholarship within Ethnomusicology, advocates for a connection between Indigeneity and music that can broadly be organized into an interconnected system of concepts: sustainability with the extension of technology, decolonial practices with resistance efforts, Indigenous modernity and hybridization, assemblages (sites/spaces of conjunction), epistemology, ontology, identity and belonging, and neoliberalism. These concepts should not be static categorizations but rather treated as interwoven themes that either manifest through music-making, the motivation to compose and perform, or present imagined realities and possibilities based on Indigenous ways of knowing (Harjo 2019). La Danza del Coyote provides a visible example of the yaquis' response when confronted with these exact colonial logics that aim to erase and exploit their land and people. With the help of anthropologist Raquel Padilla Ramos, the dance was brought back to Pótam, Sonora^[3]. This was made possible through direct consultation with community elders and external funding from Padilla Ramos. The war dance’s resurgence represents the yaquis passion towards educating and protecting their cultural practices. Simultaneously, the drive that resurrected an endangered musical ritual and practice reveals music and dance not only as tools of resistance but also implies the acts of resurrection and resurgence as procedures for intergenerational healing. Essentially, through this musical practice, the process that the Yaquis have taken to “bring back”, now within a new context of struggle, reveals how Indigenous Peoples continue to navigate, circumvent, and renegotiate their place in the world, and ultimately survive against colonial forces even in 2025.

Oropeza Álvarez’s ethnographic approach is evident and successful in her decision to center community voices. Through interviews, participant observation, and vignettes featuring elders, women, and youth, she paints a complex and incredibly detailed portrait of the eight Yaqui pueblos^[4]. As a reader, there is a growing sense of frustration as each chapter progresses. Challenge followed by injustice followed by physical and cultural violence towards the yaquis accumulates. Rather than centering the book on her thoughts, Oropeza Álvarez facilitates a platform where each voice recounts and describes how corporate and state-enacted policies have incessantly stripped land and water away from the pueblos, affecting the people's daily lives, families, and community.

One of the first chapters, “Don Camilo, el historiador descalzo que guarda un archivo-tesoro en su solar” (Don Camilo, the barefoot historian who keeps a treasure archive on his land) begins with Don Camilo Flores Jiménez, known as the pueblo's historian and writer in Pótam (19). He spreads out a detailed map of the territory and recounts to the author about the horrific violence the yaquis went through during “la guerra de exterminio” (war of extermination) (19). He remembers how his grandmother was kidnapped, identified by her vestment as a yaqui, as yoeme, and taken. What is considered “la Guerra del Yaqui”, a period of violent conflict, discrimination, and resistance that began in 1825 and continued during Porfiriato^[5] (21). For 112 years, the yaquis defended their territory, resisting governmental and institutional land grabs to exploit the land and its people. The corporations aimed to develop new railway systems and gas pipelines (21). Through this chapter, readers learn about the early history and the initial yaquis struggle to defend their land, which continues throughout several Mexican administrations, including Andrés Manuel López Obrador’s presidency.^[6]

Throughout the book, Oropeza Álvarez foregrounds the yaquis long history of resistance: “La del pueblo yaqui es una historia de resistencia” (The pueblo yaquis story is one of resistance) (17). She traces a narrative arc that spans Spanish colonization, the Jesuit missions, the violence of the Porfiriato, and the betrayals of the postrevolutionary Mexican state. The yaquis story is one of relentless opposition to dispossession and violence, whether these come in the form of land theft, water diversion, forced migration, or cultural erasure. This is evident when one of the eight Yaqui pueblos, Loma de Bácum, fought to have a gas pipe removed from the IENova company^[7]. Evidently, the private company did not consult the yaquis inhabitants whatsoever before exploiting that land and placing a gas pipeline (33). This conflict would progress over the years, with IENova's illegal negotiations and hiring individuals to instigate crimes within the pueblos (35). The people of Loma de Bácum continued to defend and resist these attempts, including excavating the physical gas pipeline themselves.

The chapter "Sin consenso, avanza el Plan de Justicia del pueblo yaqui" (Without consensus, the Plan de Justicia del pueblo yaqui advances) explains how the Mexican government launched a Plan of Justice for the Yaqui people in 2021, aiming to address land, water, and development issues (61). Despite ambitious proposals and public apologies, only seven of the eight traditional Yaqui governments are participating, with Loma de Bácum refusing due to disagreements over territorial defense and a lack of consensus in decision-making. Throughout the process, many Yaqui residents express frustration about limited information, lack of inclusion, and the slow or uneven progress of agreements, especially concerning land restitution and water management.

Resistance efforts are also discussed through the resurrection of the endangered dance “la Danza del Coyote” and the importance of collective and cosmological listening with singer Clementina, a church singer in Pótam. While the book is rooted in ethnography, its ethnomusicological insights are particularly noteworthy. Chapters such as “Pueblo yaqui recupera la Danza del Coyote” and “Seryaqui y joven: el cristal o la resistencia” delve into the musical and ritual traditions that have survived centuries of repression. Oropeza Álvarez demonstrates how dances, masks, and music are not mere relics but active sites of resistance and cultural continuity. By documenting this resurrection of nearly extinct rituals and the making of traditional instruments and crafts, she reveals the depth of the yaquis commitment to their heritage.

La Danza del Coyote

Ten years had passed since the Yaqui people last performed the la Danza del Coyote. This traditional war dance had faded due to a combination of factors, including lack of resources, lack of interest from traditional authorities, and the displacement of their way of life. La Danza del Coyote honors warriors, their families, and former community leaders. Every movement in the dance is meaningful, especially as the sun rises. Food offerings, including beef and thousands of handmade “subqueries’” (wheat tortillas), are prepared and shared (47). The ceremony begins at sunset and lasts until dawn, culminating as the first sunlight touches the mountain. Up until this chapter and the book's publication, only the elders remembered how to dance (43).

Clementina, a singer in the Pótam church, recalls that the movement to recover the dance began with the anthropologist and ethnohistorian Raquel Padilla Ramos. Padilla, who was murdered in November 2019, was deeply passionate about the Yaqui people and had conducted extensive research on sacred art throughout Sonora. With the governor of Pótam’s consent, the plan to revive the dance began. Raquel secured the resources for a pilgrimage to the tomb of the yaquis warrior Juan Maldonado Tetabiate, a legendary leader who resisted during the Yaquis War and who was buried at a strategic outpost in the mountains.

La Danza del Coyote would be revived at his burial site, in his honor and also in honor of Raquel Padilla, who was murdered just two weeks before the ritual. In recognition of her dedication, the yaquis people buried her beside Tetabiate. The dance and its ritual vigil were performed for both Tetabiate and Raquel (45–46).

The yaquis worldview, as Raquel Padilla describes, is deeply tied to the land, water, flowers, and stars. Each realm connects the people to both their history and survival (48). The ritual vigil takes place in the mountains of Bakatete, where coyote howls echo through the darkness, and prayers and dances fill the night (49). Around Tetabiate’s grave, twelve candles burn, and the altar glows with the image of the Virgin of Loreto. Music, dancers, and prayers blend Indigenous and Catholic traditions (49–50). The yaquis worldview, as cited from Raquel Padilla’s anthropological reports, sees a relationship with nonhuman beings through various dimensions: juya ania, the world of the wilderness; batwe ania, the world of water; sewa ania, the world of flowers; and chokim ania, the world of the stars (48). In the wilderness, strategies for war and survival are intertwined with the tribe’s origin story, marked by the sacred mountain Omteme. The world of water represents both beginning and end, origin and destiny.

After Tetabiate died in 1901, the yaquis lost their unity, turning to guerrilla tactics and wage labor to survive (51). The ritual vigil honors both the warriors and Raquel Padilla, whose spirit is released at dawn as the deer dancer stops and the coyote howls with the sunrise (52). Through this ceremony, the yaquis reclaim their collective memory and resistance. La Danza del Coyote stands as a symbol of triumph over oppression and the resilience of their traditions (52). Cultural authenticity and context are central themes within Ethnomusicology.

The fragmented information of indigenous customs and history is a result of the colonial project. This chapter reveals a distinct avenue through which "resurrection" becomes a recontexualization of the given circumstances, available resources, and desire to resist erasure. This practice is admirable and inspiring to read about, providing insight into what people can create and recreate when the resources, funding, liberation, and motivation are present. The process of ancestral consultation through the dance itself and through relearning the dance by community elders reveals an opportunity to understand the musical process of the ritual as a method for intergenerational healing, as the present generation learn the importance of La Danza del Coyote. The yaquis enact forms of resistance that reveal the repetitive colonial forces that intend to oppress Indigenous Peoples. However, their resistance reveals a renegotiation of how to combat within the present circumstances and struggles of today, and most likely, tomorrow.

¿Qué es hacer justicia para los Yaquis?

Throughout the book, one question echoes: “¿Qué es hacer justicia para los Yaquis?” (What is Doing Justice for the Yaquis?). As a reader, I followed the community’s ongoing battles for land, water, and autonomy. The answer becomes increasingly apparent: justice is the return of territory, resources, and self-determination (164). Yet, Oropeza Álvarez resists the temptation to provide easy resolutions. Instead, the relentless accumulation of challenges and the frustration of deferred justice compel readers to grapple with the reality that justice for the yaquis remains, for now, an open demand.

The chapter “¿Qué es hacer justicia para los Yaquis?” presents a chorus of voices from yaquis community members reflecting on the meaning of justice for their people amid the launch of the Plan de Justicia and a formal apology for past extermination (73). Many emphasize that justice must come from the yaquis themselves and respect their traditional political and religious governance, which integrates ritual, language, and collective decision-making.

There is widespread frustration about federal programs being unevenly distributed and imposed without broad community consent, undermining the authority of the Traditional Guard and the church, which govern ritual and justice. These chapters highlight ongoing struggles over land, water, political autonomy, and calls for the return of territory, respect for yaquis law, and recognition of political prisoners.

Yaqui voices stress the importance of education rooted in their language and culture, genuine dialogue based on equality, and an end to external impositions that threaten their identity. Justice, for many, means regaining control of their lands and resources, ensuring respect for their customs, and healing from a history marked by violence, displacement, and broken promises. There is a nod to the future, in which elders express desire for younger generations to remember customs and find confidence in their identity, in being yoreme.

One of the book’s greatest strengths is its unwavering commitment to centering yaquis voices. Oropeza Álvarez avoids the pitfalls of outsider ethnography by foregrounding the testimonies and lived experiences of community members such as Don Camilo and Clementina. Her photographs serve not just as illustrations but as ethnographic evidence, drawing readers into the yaquis world. The interdisciplinary approach, melding history, anthropology, musicology, and journalism, offers a model for future scholarship. The book’s attention to ritual, language, and territory is meticulous, making it an invaluable resource for students and scholars of Indigenous studies, Ethnomusicology, and Latin American history. The writing is accessible enough for undergraduate students yet nuanced enough for advanced researchers. Of particular interest, Oropeza Álvarez references anthropologist Raquel Padilla Ramos, who was murdered in 2019. However, this knowledge comes as quite a shock when initially reading. Oropeza Álvarez’s repetition and references to Padilla Ramos’s work are intentional and cognizant of the gravity and controversy surrounding ethnographic work. This reveals the transparent realities of the kind of work of investigative journalists and researchers that deserve a much larger space for discussion, including how to develop robust safeguards and protections.

At times, the book’s determination to center community voices comes at the expense of the author’s own analytical reflections. Some readers may wish for more of Oropeza Álvarez’s perspective as an ethnographer, including her methodological choices, her emotional responses, and the ethical dilemmas she faced. While her restraint is admirable, a deeper engagement with her own positionality could have enriched the narrative.

I would be interested in learning about how Oropeza Álvarez might connect the Xinka of Guatemala^[8] “Cuerpo-Territorio” through the yaquis worldview and practice. The concept of cuerpo territorio, as described by Lorena Cabnal, highlights the deep connection between body and land, where defending territory is also an act of protecting the self and the community (Cabnal 2020). If Oropeza Álvarez were to view yaquis resistance through this perspective, every ritual, dance, and offering would serve as a way to embody and reclaim territory. The land is not just a backdrop for culture; it is a living presence that shapes identity and survival. Through ceremony, yaquis bodies become extensions of the territory, and their acts of resistance become ways to guard both. La Danza del Coyote, then, is more than a tradition; it is a living statement that people and territory are one, and that defending land is inseparable from defending culture and body (Cabnal 2016; 2020). Ritual acts such as dancing, praying, and honoring ancestors are potent ways to recover both land and self, echoing Cabnal's idea that to defend cuerpo territorio is to protect life in all its forms (Cabnal 2020).

Additionally, the book’s bilingual and regional focus, while necessary, may limit its accessibility to a broader international audience. The lack of an English translation and the dense references to Mexican political history may pose a barrier for readers unfamiliar with the context. However, these are challenges that call for more, not less, dissemination and translation of such crucial work. As a bilingual scholar, this is an opportunity in which we can read, share, and facilitate the text with our colleagues and students. With access to several translation tools and international platforms, I encourage many not to be deterred by the Spanish language text.

Yaquis: La Resistencia Imbatible is both a scholarly resource and a moral imperative. In documenting the yaquis unbreakable resistance, Daliri Oropeza Álvarez has given us a book that is as much about the ongoing fight for Indigenous rights as it is about the craft of listening, witnessing, and amplifying marginalized voices. For those committed to understanding land justice, cultural survival, or the intersections of music and resistance, this book is indispensable. It demands not only to be read, but to be taught, discussed, and acted upon. As a future professor in Ethnomusicology, it is imperative to engage with interdisciplinary texts across various languages. I recommend that scholars explore scholarship focused on climate, land, and ecological resistance and justice. The current socio-political state of the world is revealing that land, body, and territory are, in fact, all interconnected.

References

Cabnal, Lorena. 2010. “Feminismos diversos: el feminismo comunitario”. Barcelona: ACSUR-Las Segovias.

Cabnal, Lorena. 2016. “Las niñas no se tocan”, DW. https://decolonial.hypotheses.org/2147.

Cabnal, Lorena. 2020. “Without being consulted: the commodification of our body-land territory” Women Defending the Territory. Experiences of Participation in Latin America. Fondo de Acción Urgente. Fundación Cultural de Artes Gráficas.

Harjo, Laura. 2019. Spiral to the Stars: Mvskoke Tools of Futurity. Tucson: University of Arizona Press.

Olavaria, María Eugenia. 2000. “Dimensión territorial y espacio vivido en los pueblos yaquis.” Dimensión Antropológica 20: 79–99. https://www.dimensionantropologica.inah.gob.mx/?p=1001.

Instituto Nacional de los Pueblos Indígenas. 2018. “Etnografía del pueblo yaqui de Sonora.” Gobierno de México.

International Water Security Network. 2021. “The Yaqui Pueblos: Water Flows in Worlds Overlapping.” University of the West of England, Bristol. https://www.watersecuritynetwork.org/the-yaqui-pueblos-water-flows-in-worlds-overlapping/.

Oropeza Álvarez, Daliri. 2024.Yaquis: La Resistencia Imbatible. Mexico City: Rosa-Luxemburg Stiftung, 1-183.

Wikipedia. 2024. “Daliri Oropeza.” Last modified June 2024. https://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Daliri_Oropeza.

Footnotes

1. The term yaqui (hiaki or hiaqui) comes from the name of the river, The yaqui people identify themselves as yoeme, though upon Spanish arrival and conquest, they were referred to as “Habitantes del rio Yaqui” (inhabitants of the Yaqui river) (114). ↑

2. “The yaquis identify themselves and the Mayos as yoeme, a word meaning man or person.The notion of yoris (white men or foreigners), distinguishes them, in turn, from other Indigenous peoples.” (Instituto Nacional de los Pueblos Indígenas. 2018) ↑

3. One of the eight Yaqui Pueblos. ↑

4. The eight yaquis pueblos are Cócorit-Loma de Guamuchil, Loma de Bácum, Tórim, Vícam, Pótam, Ráhum, Huírivis y Bélem-Pitahaya (Oropeza Álvarez 2024:23). ↑

5. Porfiriato refers to the period in Mexican history when General José de la Cruz Porfirio Díaz Mori. Porfirio Diaz ruled as president, from 1876-1911. ↑

6. Andrés Manuel López Obrador served as president of Mexico during 2018-2024 ↑

7. IEnova, a subsidiary of Sempra Energy, is one of the largest private energy companies in Mexico. ↑

8. Xinka are an Indigenous people and linguistic group primarily located in the departments of Santa Rosa, Jutiapa, and Jalapa in southeastern Guatemala. They are the only non-Mayan indigenous group in Guatemala ↑

   
   

   *Kelsey Milian Lopez is a Ph.D. candidate in Ethnomusicology at the City University of New York (CUNY) Graduate Center. She holds an M.A. in Ethnomusicology from CUNY and a B.A. in Sociology and Education from Furman University in Greenville, South Carolina. Her dissertation explores language revitalization among Zapotec musicians from the Istmo de Tehuantepec through Indigenous research paradigms and intersectional frameworks of identity. Her broader work engages sound studies, decolonial methodologies, and transnational currents of Latin American popular music, including research on reggaetón, cultural mediation, and the (re)negotiation of Latin American diasporic identity in East Asia.