Racial Inequality in Uruguay

In 1842, nineteen percent of Montevideans were Afro-Uruguayan, however their percentage of the population fell quickly in the years that followed (Rout 203). Between 1850 and 1930, more than one million white Europeans settled in Montevideo, while in 1886 a law was passed which banned any person of African origin from immigrating into the country (203). The job market was suddenly flooded with new, white workers, and thus dramatically increased the already difficult task of securing and then keeping a job for Afro-Uruguayans. Most Afro-Uruguayans were clustered in low paying positions, with little job security or stability (Appiah 1999, 1929).

In the second half of the nineteenth century, informal segregation was common in Uruguay. While legally guaranteed equal rights, Afro-Uruguayans were often barred from restaurants, theaters, and other locations where they would be interacting with whites (Rout 201). However, in 1877 an education reform was passed which stated that there would be free, state-sponsored elementary education for all citizens (Andrews 40). By 1880 the number of elementary schools in Montevideo had increased from 62 to 310, and a vocational high school was created “aimed specifically at children of poor and working-class families” (40). While the Afro-Uruguayan papers encouraged their readers to send their children to school, in reality it was difficult for many poor and working-class families to do so, as sending their children to school would mean not only extra costs for school supplies, but also less income, as the children would have previously been working and bringing in extra money for the family (41). According to Andrews, “the financial obstacles that prevented many black students from attending primary and secondary school were all but overwhelming at university level. The handful of Afro-Uruguayans who attended the university did so, La Propaganda noted in 1894, ‘at the cost of so many sacrifices’ by themselves and their families” (41). Those who did attend university often found themselves working full-time to support themselves, thus taking them several extra years to finish their degrees (41).

In 1878, in the midst of the elementary school growth, racial tensions increased when it was proposed that Afro-Uruguayans would not just be joining the newly built schools, but would also be entering the public schools with whites (Rout 201). According to Rout, “this issue was finally defused by legislative action, but debates on the measure provide an interesting insight into the development of post-1853 race relations in Uruguay” (201). Representing the two sides of the debate were José Pedro Varela, the sponsor of the Primary Education Acts, and his opponent Lucas Obes (201). Varela insisted that education was the key to removing class differences, focusing on the class of the students rather than race. Obes countered that his firm view that Afro-Uruguayans should not be entered into the same schools as white Uruguayans was by no means because of their race, but rather because he was against mixing the students of the lower social class in with those of the higher classes (201-2). “These semantic gymnastics reveal that by the late nineteenth century racial prejudice had become a taboo; only class prejudice now existed” (202). As discussed in the Introduction to our project, structural racism has impacted Afro-Uruguayans just as much, if not more, than actual blatant discrimination. By labeling education integration as a class issue rather than a race issue, Afro-Uruguayans could still be systematically kept at lower education and class levels, while avoiding the ‘taboo’ topic of race. According to Rout, “unfortunately, the great prejudice in Uruguay seems to be that the white population is loathe to admit that racial prejudice exists” (205).

By the mid-twentieth century, education reform was once again a top priority for the Uruguayan government (Andrews 89). In an article published by the Afro-Uruguayan publication Revista Uruguay in 1945 (for more information about Revista Uruguay, please see our section on the Afro-Uruguayan Press and Organizations), it was stated that Afro-Uruguayans were taking part in all forms of education and professions, and that “little or nothing remains to be done to eliminate once and for all that color line, so absurd and vile in countries that maintain and defend democracy”’ (89). This statement is shockingly bold for any newspaper, let alone one which just a month before had published an article stating that the rate of school enrollment for Afro-Uruguayans was not as high as it should be (89).

Nuestra Raza on the other hand, another Afro-Uruguayan paper we discuss in greater detail in our section Afro-Uruguayan Press and Organizations, was much more upfront about the challenges still plaguing the Afro-Uruguayan community. According to Nuestra Raza, there was a long list of “barriers that reduced black enrollments: many schools were too crowded to accept new students; when one did find a school with openings, it was often too far from home for one’s children to attend. And though the schools charged no tuition, students were expected to provide their own uniforms, pencils, paper, and other supplies, the combined cost of which was out of reach for poor families” (89-90). The Afro-Uruguayan students who were admitted to schools “seem to have been treated fairly and equally by their teachers,” however their treatment by their fellow students was said to be that of cruelty and harassment (90). According to Andrews, “the Uruguayan state had promised equal educational access to all and had invested considerable resources to keep that promise. Yet obstacles both ‘official’ (underfunded, overcrowded schools) and ‘unofficial’ (black poverty and white racism) combined to limit black access to public education” (91).

Several articles published in the leftist magazine Marcha in 1956 appear in nearly all sources about Afro-Uruguayans in the twentieth century. The articles show the high levels of discrimination still permeating Montevidean society in the 1950s, despite legislation guaranteeing equality for all citizens. After investigating the conditions of black workers in Montevideo’s labor market, the article’s author, Alicia Behrens, discovered that of the nearly fifteen thousand service workers in the city, only eleven were of Afro-Uruguayan descent (Rout 202).

“‘Racial barriers this absolute,’ Behrens concluded, ‘will keep blacks always restricted to the lowest jobs and living in the poorest classes of society. They will have no incentive to study or finish their degrees’ In an article the following month, she wrote, ‘Would a customer who won’t even let a black person cut his hair ever let that person perform surgery on him? If he won’t let blacks serve him a meal, or take his ticket on a bus, if he won’t accept them as policemen or buy fabric from them in a department store, how will he ever accept them as hotel or bank managers, as generals or legislators?’” (Andrews 94-5).

According to Rout, Marcha also published a study which stated that since 1900, the National University of Uruguay “had graduated only two lawyers, one doctor, one pharmacist, and one midwife of African descent” (Rout 202). If the study was published in the 1950s like the others, that would mean only one person of African descent graduated with a high degree from the university each decade in the first half of the twentieth century.

While service jobs were essentially off-limits, one area of employment which was vital to Afro-Uruguayans was public and state employment (Andrews 95). However, they were placed in the lowest positions available, holding jobs such as doormen and janitors. Yet some sections of public and state employment were still completely closed off to Afro-Uruguayans, such as beach lifeguarding, and until 1931, working for the police and fire departments. After 1931, Afro-Uruguayans hired by the police and fire departments were relegated to the dog-handling squad and fire department, as the police chief openly admitted to Behrens that he restricted Afro-Uruguayans from entering the police force (96). According to the chief, “If a [black] policeman were to admonish someone for violating the traffic laws, it would be like inciting that individual to defy authority” (96).

Some Afro-Uruguayans managed to work their way out of poverty, however their upward mobility was more likely to be because they were talented athletes or musicians, rather than due to education (Chirimini 261). For most, finding any job was a difficult task, let alone one that would lead their family to prosperity. The former president of the Asociación Cultural y Social Uruguay (ACSU), Suárez Peña told Marcha that “since there are many people who refuse our company, it’s almost impossible for us to get jobs where we will have direct contact with the public, unless they are low-level jobs like doorman, street cleaner, or cook…Segregation is what concerns us and what we want to abolish” (Andrews 109-10).

According to Andrews, “barriers of prejudice and discrimination continued to impede black advancement,” in the 1950s (86). However “new national doctrines of ‘racial democracy,’ further strengthened by the recent defeat of Nazi racism and the inclusion of antiracism as one of the basic principles of the United Nations, gave the victims of discrimination much firmer rhetorical and ideological support than they had had earlier in the century” (86). This was exemplified in the case of educator Adelia Silva de Sosa, who was discriminated against in Montevideo for teaching positions, and received national recognition and support in her fight against the discrimination. (For more information on Sosa’s case, please see our next section on Afro-Uruguayan Women.)

In 1997, in a survey of one thousand Afro-Uruguayan women, half reported they worked in domestic service (93). Working in domestic service places them at a great disadvantage as they lack even basic workplace protection, a struggle they have always faced in such occupations (93-4). In 1940 a group of domestic workers even tried to get labor rights extended to domestic servants in Uruguay’s General Assembly (94). According to Andrews the group included both black and white workers and “made no distinction of race” as all knew the reality of being poor workers (94).