Bandola Digital spoke with Lucía Bawot author of ‘We Belong,’ a photography book that uniquely tells the stories of women coffee growers in Colombia
Lucía Bawot, aged 31, is a Colombian photographer born and raised in Armenia, in the department of Quindío. For 10 years, she documented the work of over 360 coffee farms throughout Latin America through her lens. During her travels, she decided she needed to create a photography book, one that would tell the stories of those who had been invisibly working in the industry for years: women.
The initial idea was to create a photographic book, but as she began to travel and talk with each of the women, she realized that many of their stories shared a pattern. She even managed to identify fragments of her own maternal grandmother’s story in each of these women. It was then that she realized thousands more would feel connected, and she decided she needed to write their stories.
The book “We Belong…” is the first to shed light on the stories of women coffee growers. It has sold over a thousand copies since its publication in March 2023. It won third place in the Gourmand Awards in the women’s category and second place Honoree for Best Coffee Book in the Sprudgie Awards 2024. Lucía already has plans to publish a second edition in Colombia. These are the stories behind the book and its author.
BD: Tell us, what is the story of your grandmother and why does it connect so much with those of the women you interviewed and photographed?
My grandmother Inés was born in Pácora Caldas, a coffee town, into a family of coffee growers. She was a coffee picker and had a rough life. She was the oldest of five siblings, and her dream was to study and become a teacher, but her father (my great-grandfather) didn’t allow her. He allowed her to go to school, and to do so, as a child, she would wake up at 4 in the morning to fetch water, bring it home, and cook, just so she could go to school.
She reached third grade, and her father told her that was enough because my great-grandmother was ill. My grandmother said she was very nervous, but upon further conversation, and asking her more questions, one realized that she was a depressed woman. As the eldest daughter, my grandmother had to assume the role of mother to her younger siblings, and almost that of a wife to my great-grandfather. She always lived with the frustration of not being able to go to school. She always told us the same stories, and as a child, I would ask her, “Grandma, why do you always tell us the same stories?”
As an adult, when I returned from Argentina after studying my career, it was I who asked her to tell me again, I asked her more questions, and I got to know her better. That marked me.
So, did you make this book thinking of her?
I have to be honest; I didn’t start the book thinking of my grandmother. I started it because, in my work with the coffee industry, I had seen all that invisibility. When I was halfway through the book’s production, I started jotting down notes and writing a bit, and in this process, I began to feel that many of these stories I had heard before were very close. I didn’t know why until there was one particular story, the first one in the book, Juana Ramirez’s story; that’s when I said, “This is my grandmother’s story.”
Juana is now 76 years old; when I met her, she was 74. Her mother abandoned them, and at the age of 11, she became responsible for the whole family, becoming the mother of her siblings and almost the wife of her father. To this day, she is alone; her husband died, and she has some children around. Similarly, my grandmother, married at the age of 20 to my grandfather, who was 30 years older and already had 10 children from his previous marriage. He died in 1990, and she lived half of her life alone, surrounded by her children – 20 children because they had 10 more, and she raised them all as her own; all of them loved her equally.
Then I began to see my grandmother in many other stories, like not being able to study because her father didn’t let her, having frustrated dreams, dedicating herself to work in a home, and never being paid, recognized, or thanked. My grandfather founded a town in Colombia called Buena Vista, and he always took all the credit, and the spotlight; my grandmother was left behind that man, but she was the one who made all the children of that family study; they all became professionals. She had a forward-thinking mentality for her time.
Lucía as a child with her grandmother Inés (R.I.P).
How did you choose the stories? What was that process like?
For the book, I visited 62 Colombian women producers and gatherers, traveling across the country from north to south because diversity was crucial. How did I select the 25 for the book? By defining the themes of each of the seven chapters, I did it in a very organic way. I had their names, the topics, and everything on sticky notes on a wall, and I grouped them by categories. First, it had to be a story that many people could identify with; second, it had to have good photographic content, and third, it had to have some connection with my grandmother.
Which of all the stories impacted you the most and why?
Well, there are several. There’s Albaney Fajardo’s story, who got married when she was underage, and her husband verbally, psychologically, and physically abused her, to the point where he made her believe she was worthless, that she was nothing. She didn’t want to leave him because she didn’t want to go back to her home and admit that her marriage had failed. Plus, she had a son who suffered from epilepsy. It wasn’t until her son died that she found the strength to leave that husband who had hurt her so much. In her immense sadness as a mother, her loss gave her the strength to give herself another chance. Now she has another partner and lives happily, having a good relationship. She healed because she talks about it naturally, she tells it. She says a very beautiful phrase that is in the book, and I quote: “One can use the step to stumble or to climb. For me, it served to stumble over and over again for 22 years, but finally, one day I used the step to climb, and to go through the fire of my pain, reinventing my life and myself, I did it for myself.”
Healing is freedom, and speaking and having the ability to be honest about what we have experienced, good or bad, is what makes us powerful. The other impactful story is that of Cristina Álvarez, a gatherer from Antioquia who lives on the farm with her mother. She was too shy to talk, didn’t recognize her value as a woman, as a human being, and hearing her own story changed her life, made her question many things, and the agronomists who accompanied me with the interviews, who knew her before and now tell me Cristina has changed.
BD: By giving voice to these women and telling their stories, you are giving that voice to your grandmother and honoring her. Could it be said that you also healed with this book?
Definitely. I was diagnosed with severe depression in 2018 and started reading a lot. I wanted to learn about my illness; I didn’t understand why I had it. It was then that I began to talk more with my grandmother, to ask her about my great-grandmother, and I found out that she had been a depressive woman and possibly I brought the pain and sadness of my great-grandmother, but that is being healed and honored so that it stays there.
Depression made me see life in a more empathetic way and be a little kinder and more compassionate to others. By talking to my grandmother, I learned that there was a lot of domestic, physical, and psychological abuse in the family, a chauvinistic man who did not respect women. This was never talked about in the family; even for her, it was difficult to speak ill of her father. I like to say that each of the women I visited reminded me of my grandmother, and here that limiting family pattern is broken, and my grandmother is honored and made visible, not only through this book but also through my effort as a daughter and granddaughter of this family.
Was that why you decided to support the women in the book with a mental health project?
Part of the commitment was to return to them with a mental health project. I consulted all 62, and to my surprise, they all said yes, they needed to talk. Only 39 participated due to time constraints, communication challenges, and distance, but it was obvious that they had many emotions to process, and that’s how Beans to Mind was born. The project was built with two Colombian psychologists experienced with rural women, all done virtually. Each woman had two individual therapy sessions with the psychologist; then they passed on reports to me about each of the women. Afterward, two workshops were held with group work, where they met, and made new friends, and it was a very nice experience; many realized they were not alone.
Beans to Mind is not a therapeutic process because it’s too short, but it will give them the tools to question themselves, and make changes. 80% of the project was financed with part of the profits from the book, and the remaining 20%, thanks to a donation campaign. It has been nice to receive feedback from them and see the changes. They are more aware of things they thought and felt; it has been a rewarding experience. Now some companies want to sponsor the complete treatment for three women, so I am very happy.
What comes next after the book and the mental health project?
When I started the project, I had been feeling frustrated for three years because I felt that as a photographer, they would never allow me to have that key to open the door and say, “I belong to the industry, I am a coffee woman. And I am from this industry.” For me, it is very evident that if you want to make a change, and you want to find a voice, much of that work has to come from you; you have to take responsibility and take action.
I have been a year without doing photographic and video work in coffee because I don’t want to work under a mission and a vision different from what I want. There are plans to publish a second edition in Colombia to facilitate distribution in Latin America because, at the moment, it is only available in the United States. And 2024, I will start working in the marketing department of the Women’s Business Development Council, helping women access finance tools, and that aligns with my values.
As human beings, I believe we are constantly evolving, and what we like today may not be what we like tomorrow, that’s what the book taught me, that I am not just a photographer, that I can be much more, and I deserve to be much more, to explore other fields. I discovered that I like writing, I could even say more than taking photos, and I never would have thought… So there are plans for another book that would be only text, but it’s not about coffee; it’s a very personal family story.
My book “We Belong” is not really about coffee; my book is about humans. It is an artistic statement and a human exploration; that’s what I believe my book is. As artists, we have to set a precedent and see the importance of what we are doing; we are working with humans, and we are exploring very difficult themes that touch on and trigger very sensitive topics.
