What do you think?
Rate this book
Las Soldaderas: Women of the Mexican Revolution
The photographs of Las Soldaderas and Elena Poniatowska’s remarkable commentary rescue the women of the Mexican Revolution from the dust and oblivion of history. These are the Adelitas and Valentinas celebrated in famous corridos mexicanos, but whose destiny was much more profound and tragic than the idealistic words of ballads. The photographs remind Poniatowska of the trail of women warriors that begins with the Spanish conquest and continues to Mexico’s violent revolution. These women are valiant, furious, loyal, maternal, and hardworking; they wear a mask that is part immaculate virgin, part mother and wife, and part savage warrior; and they are joined together in the cruel hymn of blood and death from which they built their own history of the Revolution.
The photographs are culled from the vast Casasola Collection in the Fototeca Nacional of the National Institute of Anthropology and History in Pachuca, Hidalgo, Mexico.
The photographs are culled from the vast Casasola Collection in the Fototeca Nacional of the National Institute of Anthropology and History in Pachuca, Hidalgo, Mexico.
96 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1999
11 people are currently reading
478 people want to read
About the author
Elena Poniatowska
172 books824 followersHélène Elizabeth Louise Amélie Paula Dolores Poniatowska Amor was born on May 19, 1933, in Paris, France. Her father was French of Polish ancestry and her mother a Mexican who was raised in France. When she was nine Poniatowska's family moved to México City. She grew up speaking French and learned English in a private British school. However, her knowledge of Spanish came from talking with the maids, so her written Spanish was largely colloquial. Poniatowska developed ties with the Mexican lower class in her youth and thus gained a sense of belonging to and an understanding of the Mexican culture. She felt and thought of herself as completely Mexican and of Spanish as her native language. Her works include characters who belong to the underprivileged classes, and she often gave voice to the powerless of her country.
She started writing as a journalist in 1954 and interviewed many famous Mexican and international writers. Many of these interviews can be found in her Palabras Cruzadas (1961; Crossed Words) and later in her Todo México (1990; All of Mexico). Besides her famous interviews, she also wrote several novels, short stories, chronicles, plays, and poems.
Among her novels are Hasta no verte, Jesús mío (1969; Until I see You, My Jesus), which earned her the Mazatlan Prize; Querido Diego, te abraza Quiela (1978; Dear Diego, love Quiela); La "Flor de Lis" (1988; The "Flower of the Lily"); and Tinísima (1992; Tinisima). Other narratives include Lilus Kikus (1954; Lilus Kikus; later an expanded edition appeared as Los cuentos [The Accounts] de Lilus Kikus in 1967); De noche vienes (1979; You Come at Night); Ay vida no me mereces (1985; Life, You Don't Deserve Me); Domingo 7 (1982; Seventh Sunday); Gaby Brimmer (1979; Gaby Brimmer); Todo empezó el domingo (1963; Everything Started on Sunday); and El último guajolote (1982; The Last Turkey).
Her chronicle La noche de Tlatelolco (1971; Massacre in Mexico) earned her the Javier Villarrutia Prize. She refused to accept it because she did not want to identify herself with then-President Echeverría's political establishment. Other chronicles include Fuerte es el silencio (1980; Silence Is Strong), and Nada, nadie: las voces del temblor (1988; Nothing, Nobody: The Voices of the Earthquake).
In theater, her play Melés y Teleo (1956; Melés and Teleo) uses a word game in the title, meaning "you read to me and I read to you." Finally, her poetry can be found in the Spanish publications Rojo de vida y negro de muerte, Estaciones, and Abside.
Ponistowska's skill as a novelist was her ability to combine fact with fiction. She lent her voice to the voiceless, but at the same time she took a step back and let the victims come forward to express their needs and pain, letting the Mexican people speak through her. Her settings were mostly in Mexico, and her characters were either Mexicans or people such as Angelina Beloff (Querido Diego, te abraza Quiela) or Tina Modotti (Tinísima) who lived important passages of their lives in Mexico. Many of her female characters are at the mercy of men. Their lives are ruled by a world made up of double standards. They try to do the right thing, but in the end they lose the men they loved and for whom they sacrificed. It is clear then that these women are never really appreciated.
Poniatowska had a great affinity with women and liked to write about them. But she also was interested in the poor, the weak, the street children, and the powerless. Interviewing the common people of Mexico became her trademark. After her first publication (Lilus Kikus, 1954), her writings became more and more political. For example, in Querido Diego (1978) Quiela's story is completely personal. It focuses upon her and her lover, the famous painter Diego Rivera. By comparison, in Tinísima (1992) Poniatowska reveals not just Modotti's emotional life but also her professional and political life as a communist.
However, Poniatowska's style often made it difficult fo
She started writing as a journalist in 1954 and interviewed many famous Mexican and international writers. Many of these interviews can be found in her Palabras Cruzadas (1961; Crossed Words) and later in her Todo México (1990; All of Mexico). Besides her famous interviews, she also wrote several novels, short stories, chronicles, plays, and poems.
Among her novels are Hasta no verte, Jesús mío (1969; Until I see You, My Jesus), which earned her the Mazatlan Prize; Querido Diego, te abraza Quiela (1978; Dear Diego, love Quiela); La "Flor de Lis" (1988; The "Flower of the Lily"); and Tinísima (1992; Tinisima). Other narratives include Lilus Kikus (1954; Lilus Kikus; later an expanded edition appeared as Los cuentos [The Accounts] de Lilus Kikus in 1967); De noche vienes (1979; You Come at Night); Ay vida no me mereces (1985; Life, You Don't Deserve Me); Domingo 7 (1982; Seventh Sunday); Gaby Brimmer (1979; Gaby Brimmer); Todo empezó el domingo (1963; Everything Started on Sunday); and El último guajolote (1982; The Last Turkey).
Her chronicle La noche de Tlatelolco (1971; Massacre in Mexico) earned her the Javier Villarrutia Prize. She refused to accept it because she did not want to identify herself with then-President Echeverría's political establishment. Other chronicles include Fuerte es el silencio (1980; Silence Is Strong), and Nada, nadie: las voces del temblor (1988; Nothing, Nobody: The Voices of the Earthquake).
In theater, her play Melés y Teleo (1956; Melés and Teleo) uses a word game in the title, meaning "you read to me and I read to you." Finally, her poetry can be found in the Spanish publications Rojo de vida y negro de muerte, Estaciones, and Abside.
Ponistowska's skill as a novelist was her ability to combine fact with fiction. She lent her voice to the voiceless, but at the same time she took a step back and let the victims come forward to express their needs and pain, letting the Mexican people speak through her. Her settings were mostly in Mexico, and her characters were either Mexicans or people such as Angelina Beloff (Querido Diego, te abraza Quiela) or Tina Modotti (Tinísima) who lived important passages of their lives in Mexico. Many of her female characters are at the mercy of men. Their lives are ruled by a world made up of double standards. They try to do the right thing, but in the end they lose the men they loved and for whom they sacrificed. It is clear then that these women are never really appreciated.
Poniatowska had a great affinity with women and liked to write about them. But she also was interested in the poor, the weak, the street children, and the powerless. Interviewing the common people of Mexico became her trademark. After her first publication (Lilus Kikus, 1954), her writings became more and more political. For example, in Querido Diego (1978) Quiela's story is completely personal. It focuses upon her and her lover, the famous painter Diego Rivera. By comparison, in Tinísima (1992) Poniatowska reveals not just Modotti's emotional life but also her professional and political life as a communist.
However, Poniatowska's style often made it difficult fo
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 31 reviews
May 10, 2024
Las soldaderas were the women who went to war, accompanying the men and often fighting alongside them, during the Mexican Revolution of 1910-1920. They were soldiers, cooks, nurses, and companions; they suffered as the men did, and faced particular risks relating to their status as women in a war zone where the supposed restraints of “civilized” life were openly set at naught. Elena Poniatowska honours the courage and sacrifice of these women in her 1999 book Las Soldaderas: Women of the Mexican Revolution.
Poniatowska was born in Paris; her father was a prince of Polish-French background, and her mother was a Mexican expatriate whose family had been forced to flee the country after Porfirio Díaz lost power at the beginning of the Mexican Revolution. Her family fled to Mexico during the Second World War (except for her father who stayed and fought on the Allied side). She came from an accomplished family – politicians, writers, a musician, an archbishop – and she more than followed in their footsteps, building in Mexico a career as a journalist and writer with a particular focus on the situation of women, people in poverty, and others who suffer oppression in Mexican society.
The centerpiece of this short book is 56 photographs from the Casacola Collection, from the archives of the Fototeca Nacional in Pachuca, Hidalgo. Agustín and Miguel Casacola founded one of the first photographic agencies in Mexico, and Agustín in particular was a diligent collector of photographic images from the Mexican Revolution. Some of his collecting may have been questionable in ethical terms (he had a habit of clipping other photographers’ names off of photos and then claiming them as his own work), but the historical importance of this collection is undeniable.
In the accompanying text, Poniatowska provides a helpful explanation of where the word soldadera comes from: “During all wars and invasions, soldiers used their ‘soldada’ (a word of Aragonese origin) to hire a female servant. The women would go to the barracks to charge her salary – i.e., soldada. From this comes the term, soldadera” (p. 26).
Some soldaderas were soldiers, fighting for freedom and Mexican democracy. The cover image for the book – an image that one also sees on page 74 of the book – shows a young woman soldier from one of the revolutionary armies. She is in full uniform, with sombrero and crossed bandoliers and laced-up marching boots. In her right hand, she bears a sword that she is carrying at parade-rest; with her left hand, she holds a fold from the red-white-and-green Mexican national flag next to her. Her strength, dignity, courage, and love of country are all evident.
Most soldaderas, by contrast, occupied much humbler roles than that of a soldier fighting at the front. One of the photos, on page 50 of Poniatowska’s book, captures the way in which the soldaderas, while often relegated to the margins (in the Casasola photographs, as in the Mexican Revolution generally), were nonetheless vital to the continuance of the Revolution. The photograph, clearly staged by the photographer, shows a group of eight revolutionary soldiers on board a railroad car, their rifles pointed outward. Easy to miss, if one is not looking carefully, is the presence of a woman in the lower-right-hand corner of the photo, standing by the open door to the train car. The caption etched into the photo reads, “Tren militar revolucionario”. It seems, at first, that what the photographer is interested in is the revolutionary military train and the soldiers on board; the woman, for him, seems but a background detail, an afterthought.
In the context of this book, however, one’s attention is drawn away from the rifle-wielding men and toward the woman. Her body is bent backward, as she bears in front of her some sort of heavy burden that is strung around her neck – part of her contribution to the revolutionary effort. Her presence in the photo reminds me of what Poniatowska says about the women in these photographs: “[A]lthough they’re always present, they remain in the background….Wrapped in shawls, they carry both the children and the ammunition” (p. 16). That unarmed woman’s courage somehow seems more real, less staged, than that of the armed soldiers brandishing their rifles for the benefit of the photographer’s camera.
Poniatowska sees a complex pattern and reality behind the images of women in these photographs: “Casasola shows us, again and again, slight thin women patiently devoted to their tasks like worker ants – hauling in water and making tortillas over a lit fire, the mortar and pestle always in hand. (Does anyone really know just how hard it is to carry a heavy mortar for kilometers during a military campaign?) And at the end of the day, there’s the hungry baby to breastfeed” (p. 16). Throughout her extended essay that accompanies this collection of photographs, Poniatowska offers a compelling argument that “Without the soldaderas, there is no Mexican Revolution” (p. 16).
Poniatowska’s Las Soldaderas reminds the reader of the courage and endurance of these women, and provides a much-needed new look at the history of the Mexican Revolution.
Poniatowska was born in Paris; her father was a prince of Polish-French background, and her mother was a Mexican expatriate whose family had been forced to flee the country after Porfirio Díaz lost power at the beginning of the Mexican Revolution. Her family fled to Mexico during the Second World War (except for her father who stayed and fought on the Allied side). She came from an accomplished family – politicians, writers, a musician, an archbishop – and she more than followed in their footsteps, building in Mexico a career as a journalist and writer with a particular focus on the situation of women, people in poverty, and others who suffer oppression in Mexican society.
The centerpiece of this short book is 56 photographs from the Casacola Collection, from the archives of the Fototeca Nacional in Pachuca, Hidalgo. Agustín and Miguel Casacola founded one of the first photographic agencies in Mexico, and Agustín in particular was a diligent collector of photographic images from the Mexican Revolution. Some of his collecting may have been questionable in ethical terms (he had a habit of clipping other photographers’ names off of photos and then claiming them as his own work), but the historical importance of this collection is undeniable.
In the accompanying text, Poniatowska provides a helpful explanation of where the word soldadera comes from: “During all wars and invasions, soldiers used their ‘soldada’ (a word of Aragonese origin) to hire a female servant. The women would go to the barracks to charge her salary – i.e., soldada. From this comes the term, soldadera” (p. 26).
Some soldaderas were soldiers, fighting for freedom and Mexican democracy. The cover image for the book – an image that one also sees on page 74 of the book – shows a young woman soldier from one of the revolutionary armies. She is in full uniform, with sombrero and crossed bandoliers and laced-up marching boots. In her right hand, she bears a sword that she is carrying at parade-rest; with her left hand, she holds a fold from the red-white-and-green Mexican national flag next to her. Her strength, dignity, courage, and love of country are all evident.
Most soldaderas, by contrast, occupied much humbler roles than that of a soldier fighting at the front. One of the photos, on page 50 of Poniatowska’s book, captures the way in which the soldaderas, while often relegated to the margins (in the Casasola photographs, as in the Mexican Revolution generally), were nonetheless vital to the continuance of the Revolution. The photograph, clearly staged by the photographer, shows a group of eight revolutionary soldiers on board a railroad car, their rifles pointed outward. Easy to miss, if one is not looking carefully, is the presence of a woman in the lower-right-hand corner of the photo, standing by the open door to the train car. The caption etched into the photo reads, “Tren militar revolucionario”. It seems, at first, that what the photographer is interested in is the revolutionary military train and the soldiers on board; the woman, for him, seems but a background detail, an afterthought.
In the context of this book, however, one’s attention is drawn away from the rifle-wielding men and toward the woman. Her body is bent backward, as she bears in front of her some sort of heavy burden that is strung around her neck – part of her contribution to the revolutionary effort. Her presence in the photo reminds me of what Poniatowska says about the women in these photographs: “[A]lthough they’re always present, they remain in the background….Wrapped in shawls, they carry both the children and the ammunition” (p. 16). That unarmed woman’s courage somehow seems more real, less staged, than that of the armed soldiers brandishing their rifles for the benefit of the photographer’s camera.
Poniatowska sees a complex pattern and reality behind the images of women in these photographs: “Casasola shows us, again and again, slight thin women patiently devoted to their tasks like worker ants – hauling in water and making tortillas over a lit fire, the mortar and pestle always in hand. (Does anyone really know just how hard it is to carry a heavy mortar for kilometers during a military campaign?) And at the end of the day, there’s the hungry baby to breastfeed” (p. 16). Throughout her extended essay that accompanies this collection of photographs, Poniatowska offers a compelling argument that “Without the soldaderas, there is no Mexican Revolution” (p. 16).
Poniatowska’s Las Soldaderas reminds the reader of the courage and endurance of these women, and provides a much-needed new look at the history of the Mexican Revolution.
January 11, 2016
What a disappointment. This book is little more than a pamphlet to begin with, and the author chose to fill the pages with a rambling single chapter that covers the first half of the book. The second half is given over to photographs (the best half of the book by a long shot).
I did come away with a limited amount of knowledge: the Mexican revolution spawned a group of women known as soldaderas who accompanied their husbands/boyfriends on campaign. For the most part these women were not fighters but camp followers. Mexican men, it seems, are unable to prepare their own food and therefore dragged their women to war with them. If the man was killed, the soldadera basically became the property of another man. If her husband's side was defeated, the woman became the property of the victors to be used or discarded according to the whim of the winner. Not infrequently these women were murdered en masse.
Some few of these women ( and these are the ones I wanted to read about) took up arms and battled on one side or the other. Some held Army rank as high as Colonel. After the revolution, they found that they had another battle to fight: this one for recognition of service and service pensions.
This book falls far short of doing justice to these women. There isn't even a decent bibliography, although some titles are listed in the body of the narrative. I'll have to search for another book on this topic.
I did come away with a limited amount of knowledge: the Mexican revolution spawned a group of women known as soldaderas who accompanied their husbands/boyfriends on campaign. For the most part these women were not fighters but camp followers. Mexican men, it seems, are unable to prepare their own food and therefore dragged their women to war with them. If the man was killed, the soldadera basically became the property of another man. If her husband's side was defeated, the woman became the property of the victors to be used or discarded according to the whim of the winner. Not infrequently these women were murdered en masse.
Some few of these women ( and these are the ones I wanted to read about) took up arms and battled on one side or the other. Some held Army rank as high as Colonel. After the revolution, they found that they had another battle to fight: this one for recognition of service and service pensions.
This book falls far short of doing justice to these women. There isn't even a decent bibliography, although some titles are listed in the body of the narrative. I'll have to search for another book on this topic.
October 1, 2021
Este fántastico libro explora la situación díficil de las adelita que participaban en la revolución mexicana. Este no es un romance - explora el menosprecio, la violación, el secuestro, el homicdio, la compulsión, y casi la esclavitud de muchas de las mujeres. También las diversas situaciónes - las que seguían a sus maridos, las que luchaban como capitanas, las que trabajaban por un sueldo o para las necesidades de la vida durante un tiempo difícil, las que fueron secuestradas y tomadas por fuerza de los milicianos. La autora explica todo con un estilo muy bello, lo que se destaca aún mas mientras que da la laz a esos temas muy pesados. Por supesto las fotos son bellas aún severas, pero es la introducción de Elena Poniatowska la que recomiendo por su perfección.
February 19, 2023
Las Soldaderas: Women of the Mexican Revolution celebrates and extols -- through Elena Poniatowska's commentary and an extensive collection of photographs from the revolutionary era in Mexico (1910-1920) --- the achievements and contributions made by "las soldaderas" during the Mexican Revolution.
The soldaderas were a unique group of women who not only clothed, fed, and cared for the soldiers of the various factions during the revolution. Indeed, many of these women also served as soldiers in many of the battles (sometimes while disguised as men) and some of them even led and commanded units in combat. The soldaderas have over the past century come to assume mythic status in Mexican culture, celebrated in song, story, and verse.
The soldaderas were a unique group of women who not only clothed, fed, and cared for the soldiers of the various factions during the revolution. Indeed, many of these women also served as soldiers in many of the battles (sometimes while disguised as men) and some of them even led and commanded units in combat. The soldaderas have over the past century come to assume mythic status in Mexican culture, celebrated in song, story, and verse.
February 10, 2021
Una investigación documentada con fotografías del archivo Casasola.
Se muestra la cara de la revolución que se conocía pero que se ignora, la cara de la Adelita, la soldadera, la mujer con su rifle y su comal, preparada para las necesidades de su hombre.
Mujeres que fueron violentadas, robadas de sus comunidades para satisfacer los deseos sexuales de los revolucionarios, de cualquier frente. Mujeres que después no tuvieron otro recurso que seguir a esos hombres o enlistarse como hombres en el ejército. Mujeres que vieron tripas, cesos y toda clase de imágenes sangrientas. Que fueron veneradas y muertas por sus líderes, que soportaron grandes jornadas al sol.
Mujeres que perdieron a sus hijos por las malas condiciones del camino, y por la vida de ejército.
Se muestra la cara de la revolución que se conocía pero que se ignora, la cara de la Adelita, la soldadera, la mujer con su rifle y su comal, preparada para las necesidades de su hombre.
Mujeres que fueron violentadas, robadas de sus comunidades para satisfacer los deseos sexuales de los revolucionarios, de cualquier frente. Mujeres que después no tuvieron otro recurso que seguir a esos hombres o enlistarse como hombres en el ejército. Mujeres que vieron tripas, cesos y toda clase de imágenes sangrientas. Que fueron veneradas y muertas por sus líderes, que soportaron grandes jornadas al sol.
Mujeres que perdieron a sus hijos por las malas condiciones del camino, y por la vida de ejército.
April 16, 2025
This book is critical of the popular understanding of the “soldadera” or “Adelita” while still managing to preserve the dignity of these women. So much of what we know of the soldadera, at least in the States, is an idealized vision of fidelity, loyalty, and strength. This notion of femininity that is distinctly mexican. And yet, mexican women know and understand that behind closed doors, or even out in our communities, the lived reality of these “strong minded” women is still one of servitude and docility. I think this book illustrates (literally) the dichotomy of what it means to be Mexicana; to be expected to do it all, not complain, fight alongside your man and care for him all the while, and his children too. “Como una buen mexicana sufriré el dolor tranquila” — this reminds me also of how the older women of my life perceive themselves. Having abusive (in every sense of the word) partners, treated like dogs, and still clinging on desperately to be perceived as a strong headed revolutionary woman. A beautiful Adelita, who will be rewarded for the abuse she endures. But the reward never comes. And never will.
December 31, 2024
Es un homenaje a las adelitas que estuvieron en la Revolución mexicana. Villa ordenó la muerte de 90 mujeres prisioneras.
En los pueblos, las primeras a las que escondían eran a las mujeres, las que eran violadas y robadas no les quedaba de otra que ser soldaderas. Se escuchaban sus gritos a muchos kilómetros. Lo primero que querían eran mujeres y dinero.
Las mujeres podían disfrazarse de hombres, esconderse o ir a las montañas. Villa menospreciaba a las mujeres.
Un soldado llevó a su soldadera y Villa lo mató, no quería a ninguna ahí y era una advertencia.
Las soldaderas eran sirvientas pero podían irse a la hora que quisieran, cambiar de hombre, hacer tortillas, hacer frijoles, prostituirse. La mayoría tenía a su hombre y eran fieles.
Cartucho y Las manos de mamá son obras de Nelli Campo Bello, no fueron apreciados en México debido al machismo. Son libros de memorias.
A los prisioneros los quemaban vivos con petróleo. Las mujeres los seguían y cantaban de voz en cuello. “De primera, de primera, solo las nobles soladeras”.
En los pueblos, las primeras a las que escondían eran a las mujeres, las que eran violadas y robadas no les quedaba de otra que ser soldaderas. Se escuchaban sus gritos a muchos kilómetros. Lo primero que querían eran mujeres y dinero.
Las mujeres podían disfrazarse de hombres, esconderse o ir a las montañas. Villa menospreciaba a las mujeres.
Un soldado llevó a su soldadera y Villa lo mató, no quería a ninguna ahí y era una advertencia.
Las soldaderas eran sirvientas pero podían irse a la hora que quisieran, cambiar de hombre, hacer tortillas, hacer frijoles, prostituirse. La mayoría tenía a su hombre y eran fieles.
Cartucho y Las manos de mamá son obras de Nelli Campo Bello, no fueron apreciados en México debido al machismo. Son libros de memorias.
A los prisioneros los quemaban vivos con petróleo. Las mujeres los seguían y cantaban de voz en cuello. “De primera, de primera, solo las nobles soladeras”.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
January 13, 2025
Leí este libro cortito en español de las mujeres luchadoras de la Revolución Mexicana durante un vuelo de CDMX a Bogotá. Aprendí mucho con este librito y en especial que existieron muchas mujeres que no solo pelearon contra las fuerzas armadas del porfiriato, sino que acompañaron, dieron de comer, cuidaron y prepararon a los hombres revolucionarios mismos. Claro que la mayoría de estas mujeres fueron olvidadas en la historia, pero de suerte esto recuenta algo de sus vidas y el importante rol que tuvieron. El libro en español trae además muchas fotografías que dan una vista a estas mujeres invisibilizadas por la historia, pero recordadas por Elena Poniatowska y nosotras.
March 6, 2024
Las mujeres son las que más sufren en las guerras, violadas, secuestradas, asesinadas, abandonadas y relegadas por la historia, aún que el papal de las mujeres en la Revolución mexicana es algo que solo queda por las historias que se pasan de generación en generación y las canciones populares que aún siguen presentes.
Esta historia es más bien un relato periodístico de la autora, me hubiera gustado que fuera más largo.
Esta historia es más bien un relato periodístico de la autora, me hubiera gustado que fuera más largo.
July 5, 2020
Very educational. The structure is a little confusing but very like the author's other work -- almost a stream of conscious sort of feel. Utterly depressing at the shared commonality of certain women's roles in revolutions around the world. WHAT a universal constant. Do not read during pandemic if you are already depressed.
August 21, 2024
5 ⭐️. Es un libro vibrante y muy emocionante, Elena muestra a las adelitas con grandiosidad y valentía, además de reconocer que han sido parte importante del desarrollo de nuestra historia. Muchas cosas no hubieran sido posibles sin ellas, aunque muchos no quisieron reconocerlo en su momento, inclusive siendo maltratadas en su paso por la historia.
October 1, 2025
Creo que es de lo que más me ha gustado de Poniatowska, narrativa de increíbles contribuciones de las historias apagadas, silenciadas por los hombres que se vieron rebasados por la valentía y astucia de estas mujeres que con hambre, con frío, con cansancio y su chilpayate a cuestas, jamás abandonaron a su hombre en la batalla, feroces e indomables algún día tenían que despertar
November 18, 2025
La premisa es sólida, pero es la segunda vez que leo a Elena Poniatowska y ambas lecturas me han dejado la misma sensación: como si algo quedara faltando, como si el libro se quedara a medio camino. Estoy segura de que debió ser un trabajo arduo y minucioso, pero, de alguna manera, en mi opinión, no termina de cumplir su propósito.
July 23, 2024
¡Librazo! Es súper cortito pero muy interesante, la Sra. Poniatowska nos trae otra cara de “las Adelitas” porque las soldaderas no solo eran compañeras, eran revolucionarias y vaya manera de hacerlo. No dejemos que la historia las olvide.
October 13, 2017
Wanted to read more of Elena Poniatowska's work. Interesting read, but I realized that I should have read the book in Spanish to truly get what she wanted to say.
November 28, 2021
Used for my ancestry research. Very informative.
February 14, 2022
Lo primero que terminé de leer luego de que me dio covid. Elena siempre clava sus palabras justas.
March 5, 2024
Un libro (muy cortito) necesario para entender el papel que jugó la mujer en la revolución mexicana.
September 13, 2025
It gives great context, but it feels like a very loose version of a collection of stories.
July 17, 2025
Me encantó, el gran pero que le pongo es que me hubiera gustado que fuera más largo. El papel de Las Soldaderas en la Revolución Mexicana es fundamental y a pesar de ello su existencia ha sido invisibilizada en la historía oficial, una razón muy grande detrás de ella es claramente el machismo.
August 8, 2011
This is a great collection of photographs. I was disappointed that at page 39, less than halfway in, there ceased to be more historical context, as the info from pages 1-38 was fascinating. Otherwise, this is a great addition to my Latino Studies collection.
January 10, 2024
Una interesante introducción a la vida y obra de las Soldaderas, las mujeres que participaron en la Revolución Mexicana. Algunas como cocineras, otras como espías o correo y otras más combatiendo cuerpo a cuerpo.
November 17, 2008
a surprising history, some of which you pancho villa fans may not want to hear. the photos are wonderful.
July 27, 2010
The loyalty of these women is astounding. Makes me proud to be Mexican-American.
March 21, 2012
The photos are amazing and Elena Poniatowska's narrative was passionate and illuminating.
March 3, 2014
Great photos, hard to follow text, but not much text! About the women soldiers you've never heard about during the Mexican Revolution.
Read
February 6, 2015972.0816 P797 2006
December 31, 2025
Creo que no debería ser un libro… volvamos mejor a las grandes novelas de esta autora o a sus ensayos más trabajados como las siete cabritas
Displaying 1 - 30 of 31 reviews