In Bolivian society, violence against women is a major problem. Every three days, a woman is killed simply because she is a woman. The belief that men are superior to women runs deep in Bolivian culture. This is partly due to religious teachings that enforce a submissive role for women. Yet, religion can also be part of the solution. One of our partner organizations in Bolivia, the Red Ecuménica de Teólogas de La Paz, is working from a faith-based perspective to promote equality between men and women. The female theologians in this ecumenical network encourage other women to pursue their dreams, reject oppression, and stand up for themselves.

Pamela Choque Quispe (38), a theologian, has been part of the network for almost twenty years. ‘Our main goal is to end violence against women. We do this by opening up discussions about gender roles, empowerment, and violence—within families, communities, and the church,’ she says. The network develops materials to foster dialogue and trains local (religious) leaders so they can share these lessons with the women in their communities.

Exercising power

One of these local leaders is María Mayta Mamani (45). María grew up in a family with very traditional norms and values. ‘I grew up in the city of La Paz, but my father was from the countryside and was very strict. My four sisters and I always had to dress modestly and were never allowed to go on school trips. During the ceremonies that were important in his culture, we women were only allowed to watch from a distance as the men gathered to celebrate.’

María found that traditional gender roles weren’t just a perspective held by men. ‘I was already married when I decided to go to college. My husband’s aunt disapproved completely. According to her, I should have been taking care of my husband and daughter—schooling wasn’t for married women.’ María also saw a lot of violence among her sisters. ‘One of my sisters was married to a man who used to steal her money to buy alcohol. He blamed her for everything and would hit her when he got angry. But when I tried to ask her about it, she would deny everything—probably out of fear.’

First female pastor

Pamela, too, was confronted with violence early on. ‘My father drank too much. When he came home drunk, I’d hear my parents shouting at each other in the living room. Once, I saw him raise his arm to hit my mother. Before I knew it, I was standing between them. ‘Hit me instead,’ I said. He didn’t, but he threw us both out of the house.’ The situation at home drove Pamela to seek refuge in a Lutheran church in her neighborhood when she was only eleven. Soon, she was spending several days a week there, teaching other children the songs that were sung on Sundays.

After high school, she decided to study theology, but soon ran into deep-rooted prejudices and traditions. ‘I wanted to go to Costa Rica for part of my studies and asked my church for financial support. The pastor refused, saying women shouldn’t be studying theology.’ Pamela, a mother of three at the time, didn’t let that stop her. The theological network she had already joined backed her at every step. She graduated and has since become one of the first female pastors in the Lutheran Church in Bolivia—a truly remarkable achievement. ‘It was an enormous struggle,’ Pamela explains. ‘I kept running into closed doors, strict rules, and conservative men. A female pastor was considered inappropriate, even though I was fully qualified. Thanks to the incredible support of the women in the network and one progressive pastor, I finally succeeded.’

The resistance from the church sometimes made Pamela doubt whether this was really her place. ‘Preaching and helping others has always been in my heart. But the structural discrimination against women made me wonder if I should leave and start a new community on my own. In the end, I decided to stay—how else could I bring about change? If I had given up, nothing would have changed in the church.’

I kept running into closed doors, strict rules, and conservative men. A female pastor was considered inappropriate, even though I was fully qualified.

Workshops and materials

María and Pamela met last year, when María was invited by her church to attend workshops led by Red Ecuménica de Teólogas de La Paz. ‘Since I was young, I’ve tried to go my own way,’ María says. ‘I teach my daughters that it’s important to stand up for themselves, to study so they won’t be dependent on a man. The workshops of Red Ecuménica de Teólogas fit exactly with my own thoughts on women’s rights.’

The materials developed by the theological network include booklets about violence, the patriarchal society, solidarity, and interpreting the Bible from a female perspective. Pamela explains, ‘The booklets are a starting point for dialogue. The idea is not to impose a new concept, but to ask questions and let readers think for themselves. Lutheran and Catholic interpretations of the Bible often reinforce a submissive system, where women are expected to know their place and have little say. That’s outdated. We encourage people to take a fresh look at these texts. You’ll find that there are stories of strong, independent women in the Bible, too.’

The network trains people active in their local churches using these materials—people like María. ‘We hope this new perspective on women will spread like a snowball effect within the church.’ And it is working: María has already led several workshops herself. ‘At first, the women are often hesitant,’ María says. ‘But through interactive exercises and writing cards, their stories and questions begin to emerge. Recently, for example, we discussed whether it’s a sin to divorce an abusive husband.’ María believes that education is key to change and is committed to giving workshops wherever she is welcome. ‘As mothers, it’s our responsibility to create a better world for our daughters.’