Song of the Hummingbird

In the early chapters of Song of the Hummingbird, Huitzitzilin’s unwavering candor and deliberate storytelling establish the centrality of The Power of Narrative. She emerges as a powerful voice determined to challenge the dominant narrative crafted by the Spanish conquerors and its attempts to erase her culture and humanity. Her insistence on using her Mexica name rather than her Christian name is a powerful act of defiance against the systematic stripping away of Mexica identity. This act directly challenges the colonizers’ belief, voiced by one of the nuns at the convent, that the Mexica “have no spirit” (11). The nun’s belief exemplifies the prevailing attitude among the Spanish colonizers who portrayed the Mexica population as soulless and inferior.

Huitzitzilin’s narrative choices underscore her determination to reclaim control over her story. The quick pace of her narrative and her emphasis on detail reflect her desire to immortalize her perspective and the experiences of her people: She says, “someone must know how it was that I and my people came to what we are now” (19). Aware that official documents portray the conquest from the Spanish perspective, Huitzitzilin utilizes her narrative to challenge this. Her urgency stems from a fear of historical erasure—of having Mexica people and their experiences lost forever, buried beneath the colonizers’ self-serving version of history. Thus, by offering a firsthand account of the brutality, oppression, and loss she has witnessed and experienced as a consequence of colonization, Huitzitzilin challenges the Spaniards’ version of colonization and ensures that the Mexica people’s experiences are not relegated to the margins of history.

In narrating the hardships she faced, Huitzitzilin shares a poignant testament of resilience in the face of profound loss. Even before the arrival of the Spanish conquerors, her life was marked by limitations and a struggle for autonomy. The patriarchal structure of Mexica society restricted her choices, denying her the agency to shape her own destiny. This is evident in her reaction to her arranged marriage with Tetla, which made her feel “stiff and cold” (36) and “immobile,” reflecting her sense of powerlessness in the face of a predetermined future. The trauma of her sexual assault adds another layer of loss to her life. She shifts to a detached, third-person perspective when recounting this experience, which signifies Huitzitzilin’s attempt to shield herself from the emotional pain of the incident. However, this distancing tactic also signifies an attempt to define herself beyond the violation. By taking control of the narrative, even through detachment, she asserts her agency and refuses to be solely defined by the event, claiming “pain had liberated” her (64). From the constraints of her patriarchal society to the trauma of sexual assault, Huitzitzilin demonstrates an unwavering determination to not only survive but to persevere.

While Huitzitzilin’s pre-colonial experiences expose her inherent tenacity, Navigating Loss in a Colonized World becomes the defining struggle that shapes her life. When Spanish conquerors suppress Mexica cultural practices, traditions, and rituals, they leave a gaping hole in the community. Huitzitzilin’s lament—“What a pity that you have taken those practices away from us, because you have not given us anything to replace them” (47)—captures a sense of emptiness and alienation. A seemingly simple aspect like a ceremonial dance, which is dismissed by Father Benito as “evil,” exemplifies the loss she endures. Such traditions held immense significance, shaping the Mexica worldview. Imposed Spanish traditions and religious practices hold no meaning for the Mexica, and this loss severs the social fabric of their community. Huitzitzilin fights to preserve the significance of these traditions by narrating them to Father Benito, who will record them for posterity.

Father Benito’s empathy toward Huitzitzilin challenges the established narratives of his faith and country. His genuine curiosity begins to expose contradictions in common justifications for colonization. For instance, when Huitzitzilin admits that she was wrong to have sex with her cousin outside of marriage, he wonders how “she [understood] that it was evil at a time when she was not yet a Christian” (22). His questioning of a moral compass independent of Christianity directly opposes religious conversion as a reason for colonization. Similarly, he comes to recognize the value of Huitzitzilin’s story, thinking that “what this woman had to say about her people might be as valuable as what the captains of the first discovery had written and dispatched to Spain” (24). The idea that the lived experience of a Mexica woman holds equal weight to that of Spaniards is evidence of his burgeoning empathy. However, this clashes with the ideology that brought Benito to the New World, putting him at odds with the Church’s dominant ideology and potentially risking his standing within the very institution he serves. As a result, he quickly finds himself self-correcting to adhere to church doctrine, thinking that “he was in this land to convert, not to be converted” (83). His internal struggle underscores the profound influence Huitzitzilin’s narrative has on Benito’s worldview, setting the stage for his ongoing journey of Recognizing Bias through Human Connection.