archeological remains of the former detention center

Visiting the Club Atlético secret detention center in Buenos Aires was a haunting and thought-provoking experience, particularly due to the striking juxtaposition of its grim history and its current location beneath a noisy highway. This combination of historical significance and present-day surroundings created a profound and disconcerting atmosphere. As we approached the site, the ambient noise from the highway above served as a constant reminder of the bustling urban life continuing just overhead. The contrast is stark, with the energetic flow of traffic standing in contrast to the history once concealed beneath the ground.

Highway built above the former club atletico detention center

pillar in club atletico

For me, this visit served as a powerful reminder that beneath the surface of everyday life, there can lie hidden stories of pain, suffering, and injustice. The clash between the bustling highway and the solemnity of the clandestine detention center prompts contemplation about the coexistence of past atrocities and the vibrant present-day city. It forces visitors to confront the unsettling reality that history and its lingering echoes are not separate from the present, but rather intricately intertwined.

Hidalgo (2012) examines the complex and varied approaches taken towards Argentina’s former secret detention centers. She explores the different ways in which these memory sites have been dealt with– including demolition, modification, and preservation. The article analyzes the cultural, political, and social factors that influence the decision-making processes surrounding these former detention centers. In a way, Club Atletico was neither destroyed nor preserved. The remains of the basement where people were detained and tortured exist, and portions are visible; however, to a mere passerby they appear to be nothing beyond a construction or dig site. I walked right past the site when meeting up with the group because it was so nondescript. Moreover, our tour guide mentioned that if they continue to excavate the site they may also subject it to extreme water damage as the rainwater falls down steadily between the cracks of the highway. In this way, it is neither destroyed nor preserved. Memory, heritage, and justice intersect in complex ways at these secret former detention centers, and the state’s preservation of Club Atletico seemed (to me) an afterthought.

Argentina’s turbulent history during the military dictatorship left deep scars on the nation’s collective memory. A visit to La Perla, a notorious site of torture and murder during the Dirty War in Argentina, shed light on the deep impact of the suffering there and the resilience following the human rights violations.

The body has memory

I translate this quote as the following:

“The body has memory, traces, marks that are there, that appear if called upon. Even if we do not think of them, the body reacts by bringing them forth. Memory surrounds, permeates, from the inside and outside.”

Photographs commemorating women who were killed at La Perla

This evocative quote, hung on a flag commemorating the many women whose lives were taken at La Perla, encapsulates the idea that the body itself carries the weight of traumatic memory. Even when forgotten or suppressed, it lives on in the body. The quote reflects the profound connection between memory and the physical self, highlighting the deep impact of trauma on individuals. For me, this quote evoked the salience of epigenetics. Broadly, epigenetics is the study of changes in gene expression that can occur without alterations in the underlying DNA sequence. It explains how environmental factors– such as traumatic experiences– can impact gene expression and, subsequently, influence physical and mental health outcomes. 

“Many stars no longer exist. But their light keeps reaching us.”

The notion that the body carries memory and that it reacts by bringing forth these memories aligns with the idea that trauma can leave lasting imprints on an individual’s epigenome. These epigenetic changes can occur not only in the individual who experienced the trauma directly but also in their germ cells, which are responsible for passing genetic information to future generations. The quote’s emphasis on the body’s memory and the notion that memory surrounds and permeates from the inside and outside coalesces with the idea that trauma can leave an indelible mark on future generations. Put simply, women who endure trauma can physiologically pass this experience of trauma onto their offspring.

Mary R. Harvey (2007) explores the sources and expressions of resilience among trauma survivors. While not specific to Argentina, the concepts that Harvey presents offer insight into the strength and adaptability of individuals who have faced immense adversity such as the women in La Perla. The article examines the individual characteristics, social support systems, coping mechanisms, and personal beliefs that contribute to resilience. It reveals how trauma survivors can harness their inner strength and create a sense of purpose and meaning.

Resilience as explored by Harvey offers a glimmer of hope. It demonstrates the inherent strength of people; it explains people’s capacity to heal, rebuild, and transcend the oppressive legacy of intergenerational trauma. The resilience exhibited by survivors of atrocities, including those who survived the horrors of La Perla, exemplifies the indomitable spirit of humans.

Reconciling Harvey’s article with the above quote and the experiences of those in La Perla, for me, evokes the multidimensionality of trauma and resilience. It invites us to reflect on the interplay between memory, trauma, inherited experiences, and the human capacity to overcome and thrive. As we as students work to strive for a better future, it is vital for us to acknowledge both the suffering and the resilience of survivors.

window from a cell in the D2 detention center

Stepping foot inside of the D2 Detention Center was a profound immersion into Argentina’s military dictatorship. The walls bore witness to the stories of countless individuals who suffered within the confines. It’s impossible not to feel a sense of history pressing down upon those who visit; for me this elicited emotions of sorrow, reflection, and grief.

Each space within D2 tells a story, unraveling the horror and despair experienced by those who were held captive. One space that moved me very deeply was a room in which families of those who were disappeared brought photo albums to preserve their memory as well as to write messages to their loved ones. Below is one entry in a family photo book.

Here is my best translation of this entry:

“Sometimes I would like to be a bird. I wonder what it would be like to see you from afar. Unfold my wings to the wind and cut the clouds in a passionate sky; sometimes I would like to be a bird, but not just any one, a bird of freedom.

You ask, what is a bird of freedom? It is that which is a pleasure to see, that illuminates the soul, restores life and stirs the heart. It is that which fills the stomach with butterflies and the mind with good thoughts. The bird of freedom flies by itself, proud of its fluttering, it only allows itself to be reached by the brave in spirit, by those who earn a living. Sometimes I would like to be a bird, a bird of freedom and fly close to you. Always close to you.”