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Taking Violence to Court: Women’s Strategies in the Río de la Plata

2026-09-11 More than 200 years ago, women in the Río de la Plata region went to court to escape violent marriages. Historian María Laura Mazzoni, LIAS Fellow 2026/27, studies around 470 ecclesiastical court cases to uncover their stories—and the strategies they used to make their voices heard. In this interview, she explains what these cases reveal about women’s lives, their communities and the patriarchal legal system they confronted. She also discusses why their actions can be understood as both acts of resistance and political acts –and what their stories can tell us today.

María Laura Mazzoni, LIAS Fellow 2026/2027, Leuphana University ©Julia Knop
“I do believe that examining and understanding not only the forms that violence against women took in a colonial American context, or during the transition to an independent or republican period, […] can provide us with conceptual tools for thinking about strategies of resistance and ways of preventing or addressing such violence in the present,” says LIAS Fellow María Laura Mazzoni.

Your research project focuses on women who stood up against domestic violence more than 200 years ago. What particularly fascinated you about this topic?

In fact, I had initially studied the ways in which the diocesan administration and bishops constituted a significant source of authority in the Río de la Plata region (which is now Argentina and also Bolivia, Uruguay and Paraguay), in the context of the reforms and revolutions that characterized the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries in the American territories belonging to the Spanish Crown. Bishops were important figures within their communities and also participated actively in politics, within a cultural framework that was largely governed by the Catholic Church. My doctoral research therefore focused on the government of the Diocese of Tucumán by the bishops of this period. This research allowed me to realize that an important part of the bishops’ authority and power lay in their role as administrators of justice: they acted as judges within their communities. From that point onward, I began to study ecclesiastical justice, and it was through this research that I came across the matrimonial cases that make up the bulk of the records of the episcopal court. 

When I began examining these cases and the petitions for divorce, I was surprised to encounter the voices of women who were bringing legal actions and defending themselves against what they considered unjust treatment before ecclesiastical courts. These courts were particularly adverse to, and reluctant to allow, the dissolution of marriage, which was regarded as a sacred bond. Above all what struck me was the agency of these women and their active role in the courts. This is an aspect that, for this particular period, has generally received relatively little attention in the historiography.

You are examining court records from the late 18th century and the first half of the 19th century. What do these sources reveal about the daily lives and realities of the women involved?

The documents offer glimpses into the lives of women who were situated within a broader social context. In the court cases, I have encountered women who generally belonged to a rural, peasant world and whose families owned rural property. This is hardly surprising in a region that was predominantly rural and whose economic activity and prosperity depended largely on livestock and agricultural production.

These women were generally part of family households that owned medium-sized rural properties. These households also owned enslaved men and women who worked on rural “estancias” (big farms), as well as domestic servants who performed household labor. In some cases, I have encountered women who were able to sign with their names, which suggests a certain degree of education or literacy and places them in a relatively privileged position within society compared with poorer rural populations, among whom both men and women were often unable to sign documents. There are also other indications in the court records that provide clues about these women’s social status. Many of them, for example, were referred to as “Doña,” meaning “Mrs.” or “Lady,” a title that indicated a certain degree of social standing or status within the community.3. The women likely knew that their chances of success were slim. What exactly were they hoping to achieve?

In the cases I analyze for this project, women petitioned for divorce. However, divorce did not have the same meaning as it does today. Marriage was a sacred institution, consecrated and regulated by the Catholic Church in the Río de la Plata region – and, more broadly, throughout Ibero-America – and was therefore understood as an indissoluble bond. What these women were actually requesting was authorization from the bishop to live separately from their husbands. Although it was highly unlikely that the Catholic Church would grant them permission to establish separate households, these cases nevertheless existed, and they show women employing very specific strategies to achieve their goals before ecclesiastical judges.

What strategies did they develop to make their voices heard in court?

I consider these strategies to have been both collective and political. First, I describe them as collective strategies because an analysis of the cases reveals that women fostered and mobilized connections with relatives, neighbours, and acquaintances who testified on their behalf in court. In this way, they often involved their communities in conflicts that extended beyond the confines of the household. On the other hand, they were also political strategies. I believe that even actions that might initially appear to be individual—such as a woman petitioning for separation—can and should be understood as political acts. These actions pushed the boundaries of what was known, accepted, or expected of women in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, not only in the Bishopric of Tucumán, of course, but also within a broader Atlantic context.

In these types of documents, it is also common to encounter formulaic or repeated language. This is not only the case with juridical and canonical terminology, which is repetitive in itself and may be less meaningful for the purposes of the research. There are also certain “common strategies”: recurring patterns in the words and expressions used by women that may ultimately tell us something about shared experiences and strategies. They may point to conversations within the community about what to say, but also to the existence of specialized legal agents – such as prosecutors, legal defenders, and ecclesiastical judges – who knew the judicial process and probably advised women about what would be most effective to say in court. Phrases such as “my life is at risk” or “I ran away from home because I knew he was going to kill me” appear repeatedly, sometimes almost word for word, throughout these cases.

Were there differences between women from different social backgrounds? For example, did peasant or indigenous women face different opportunities or constraints than members of the elite?

I am currently investigating this issue in greater depth. There are studies of similar petitions from the same period involving women in Upper Peru, which is now Bolivia, and in the Viceroyalty of Peru, as well as in other contexts such as the Portuguese American world, now Brazil. In these studies, researchers have shown that access to these courts, as well as the legal strategies and petitions available within them, was possible for indigenous and peasant women, and even for enslaved Afro-descendant women. In my case study, however, at this stage of the research I do not believe that the women in Tucumán who had access to these legal proceedings—were low-income or enslaved women. They may have been peasant women, in the sense that their capital, or family wealth, was based on rural and livestock property and production. However, in general, they owned enslaved men and women, could afford the costs associated with the legal proceedings, and had networks of contacts that suggest they were well integrated into colonial society and what was considered “Spanish” or “white” Creole society. 

You describe these strategies as “collective”. What role did the wider community play in conflicts that began within a marriage?

We have to bear in mind that I am studying societies and communities governed by a very strong sense of community. In both rural and urban settings across the Ibero-American world, social life was closely connected to the Catholic identity of these communities. The church was a place of gathering, where religious practices took place alongside a range of social activities. The festivals held in towns and villages were often religious celebrations, which provided important opportunities for people to meet and socialize. Parish priests were sources of authority and people whom community members turned to for advice.

The entire community could be aware of a conflict taking place within a family or a marriage. We can often see this in the witnesses presented by both sides in matrimonial cases. They were usually relatives and acquaintances, but also people who held a certain degree of status or authority within these small communities – for example, the parish priest, a priest’s assistant, or a local official known as an alcalde de la hermandad [mayor].

Can you give as a particularly striking example of how such a conflict could become a community affair?

There is one case that is particularly representative of what I am describing, although it is certainly not the only one. I remember it because it illustrates so clearly the collective nature of these conflicts. The case dates from 1803, when the parish priest of Río Cuarto, a small town in Córdoba, wrote to the bishop asking for advice about a conflict that had erupted within a marriage. The priest explained to the bishop that “the town was in turmoil because of the scandal”. The parish priest therefore asked the bishop to issue the necessary permissions and credentials so that he could conduct spiritual exercises for the entire community, with the aim of putting an end to the “scandals, disturbances, quarrels, and resentments”. The solution to the social tension caused by this conflict– which today we might think of as a private or domestic matter – was conceived as a community-wide solution: the entire town was to go to the church and participate in spiritual exercises!

What exactly was the “Episcopal Court of the Diocese of Córdoba del Tucumán in Río de la Plata”?

The Episcopal Court of the Diocese of Córdoba del Tucumán in the Río de la Plata was a tribunal whose judge was the bishop and whose legal framework was provided by the canon law of the Catholic Church. The particular court that housed the cases I am studying belonged to the Diocese of Córdoba del Tucumán. It functioned as a court responsible for administering ecclesiastical justice in matters involving priests, but also in matters regulated by the Catholic Church, such as marriage. Within this court, the bishop was the highest judicial authority, but a number of other legal agents were involved in the administration of justice, including prosecutors, legal defenders, notaries, and lower-level judges, who were also priests. The Diocese of Córdoba del Tucumán was a very large territory, established in the sixteenth century, which until the beginning of the nineteenth century encompassed a large part of what is now central, northern, and western Argentina. 

What role did judges, priests, or other mediators play in the course of these proceedings? Who were these men and was there any leeway within the legal system?

Judicial agents played a crucial role in the legal arena. Within the episcopal court, the lower-level judges were priests, as was the bishop, who served both as judge and as the religious head of the Church. Other officials or agents could belong to the secular world, such as the notary, for example. In general, the provisor and the prosecutor were also priests. These figures were essential intermediaries for navigating the legal system. Even the legal representation of the parties was entrusted to a judicial agent. The lower-level judges and the bishop generally had a solid background in canon law. Because of their institutional position and training, they naturally upheld and reinforced, throughout these proceedings, the principle of the indissolubility of marriage and, ultimately, a patriarchal social structure. 

The time period covered by your study encompasses the independence movements in South America. Did these political upheavals also have an impact on women’s rights and scope for action?

Despite the rhetoric surrounding independence and the transition from subjects to citizens, and despite the republican framework that was accompanied by the principle of equality before the law, this equality had very unclear limits and boundaries – not only for women, but also for enslaved Afro-descendant people, Indigenous people, and subordinate groups more generally. 

In the case of women, the beginning of the nineteenth century and the crisis of the colonial order did not bring about substantial changes. The ruling elite that emerged from the Revolution of 1810, as well as the Río de la Plata’s incorporation into the Atlantic capitalist economy, depended on the institution of marriage for social reproduction and for the development of a labor market. In this sense, some scholars have argued that relations between men and women became even more restrictive, with women occupying a more subordinate position. Deviant or nonconforming behavior was more heavily sanctioned, while expectations and obligations surrounding motherhood became more explicit, more widely recognized, and more demanding, since women were primarily expected to fulfill a reproductive role. This may have made it even more difficult for women to achieve a favorable outcome in court when seeking to escape a violent marriage. This is something I am still investigating.

You are working with approximately around 470 ecclesiastical court cases. What does your day-to-day research look like with such an extensive collection of sources?

These court records are handwritten documents produced by different judicial agents, each with their own handwriting. At the same time, the physical condition of the documents affects the quality of their digitization. Because of the preservation problems affecting eighteenth- and nineteenth-century papers, digital reproductions are often of poor quality. As a result, archival research itself requires knowledge of palaeography, as well as familiarity with the abbreviations and forms of handwriting used during the period under study. This is a technical skill that I have acquired and developed over the years, but it is also extremely time-consuming. Transcribing documents and archival work more generally are slow processes that require patience, consistency, and dedication.

At the same time, this work is immensely stimulating. Reading the sources and working closely with the documents often generates new ideas or brings to light new clues that enrich the research and make it more dynamic. For me it remains a form of craft workbecause replacing this process with technology capable of automatically transcribing the documents would risk losing much of the generative and creative process that takes place along the way.

Domestic violence and access to justice remain relevant issues to this day. What insights from your historical research can help us better understand current debates?

I do believe that examining and understanding not only the forms that violence against women took in a colonial American context, or during the transition to an independent or republican period, but also the strategies that these women developed within that particular context, can provide us with tools for thinking about strategies of resistance and ways of preventing or addressing such violence in the present. 

For example, I think it is important to bear in mind that restrictions and constraints grounded in religious beliefs can place limits on women’s freedom to make decisions and on their rights as full legal subjects. 

Another issue that emerges from studying violence against women in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries is that, even though some people may regard this field of research as merely a trend or a passing academic fashion, studying these historical processes can provide evidence and contribute to our understanding of how violence against 

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