Hello all! Happy Hispanic Heritage month! This month celebrates the contributions and achievements of Hispanic American citizens, taking place between September 15th and October 15th, in which many Latin American countries celebrate their Independence days. In fact, the historical figure whose story I am about to tell was a native of Quito, Ecuador and played a major role in supporting her country’s revolution against Spanish rule. Wow, it’s almost like I planned this or something. Painted throughout history as both a harlot and a heroine, as crazy and a liberator, Manuela Sáenz was a revolutionary in more ways than one.

Now, there is a good chance you have never heard of Manuela Sáenz before, much like me until recently, and there are several reasons for this. One is due to the fact that most schools don’t teach Latin American history outside of the conquering of native peoples by racist Europeans (eat your heart out, Christopher Columbus) and the Mexican-American War. The other reason is that Latin American historians themselves have done their fair share of writing her contributions out of history.

Often disregarded as the lover to the great Latin American revolutionary leader, Simón Bolívar, Sáenz was not the type of woman easily put into a box. Seen as a threat, Bolívar’s enemies painted her as an immoral harlot, and it has only been in the last few decades that Latin feminist scholars have attempted to revise her reputation in the scheme of Hispanic history. As a result, there is a debate about what parts of Sáenz’s life historians exaggerate and what parts are true.

Luckily for all of you, I have waded through the tangle of information so that you don’t have to. So, kick back, relax, and let me tell you about one BAMF woman.

From the beginning, Manuela Sáenz was not your typical lady. She was born in Quito in 1797 from an affair between a well-to-do, married Spanish merchant and unmarried, upper-class Creole mother, but the baptismal records listed Sáenz as an “hija expósita,” which was a title given to a child of unknown parents. This was the South American way of sparing parents and any children from the public shaming of a scandalous birth. She and her mother lived in a convent together until her mother died young, leaving behind her young daughter.

Despite previously renouncing her, Manuela’s rich father stepped in, using his influence to allow her to have good schooling and a substantial endowment. Apparently, Sáenz experienced all the same privileges and training as any other noblewoman, even growing quite close to her father’s family. She received the best schooling for women offered in Quito at the time at the oldest and most prestigious convent (oh ho ho ho).

Her time at school granted her large amounts of status, but some accounts suggest that she was not much of a fan of the convent’s strict nature. She was chastised for dressing like a boy, playing with weapons, and riding horses astride rather than sidesaddle (as was considered proper for a woman because they couldn’t just let a gal go around riding a horse with her legs—gasp!—spread open, ignoring the fact that riding sidesaddle is way more difficult). One popular story goes that she was eventually kicked out in her teens for having an affair with a young army officer, though there are not any records to support that.

In the business, we call this foreshadowing, folks.

At the age of 19, Sáenz’s father arranged for her to marry an English merchant, Dr. James Thorne, who was more than twice her age. In colonial Latin America, marriage was a lady’s one-way ticket to prestige, and Sáenz landing a loaded guy—and a European man to boot—firmly established her as an elite in Latin American society.

The couple moved to Lima, Peru together in 1819. Even though Dr. James Thorne did apparently hold her in great esteem, and it was actually a huge deal that she managed to snag such a catch despite her illegitimacy, Manuela apparently was not on board. She allegedly referred to the arrangement as “supremely ridiculous.” Either way, Sáenz’s marriage granted her substantial freedom and privileges; her husband was often gone on business, and Sáenz was left to manage the household and his finances.

She made dozens of connections with the rich and prestigious through parties and social gatherings. It was these connections that allowed her to begin her involvement in political activism.

During this time, the Spanish empire was slowly crumbling, with their economy essentially collapsing. This caused a lot of instability in their colonies and a great deal of resentment toward the mother country. To add fuel to the fire, the American and French Revolutions sparked a desire for independence in all occupied colonial countries across the world. Things blew up when this French dude named Napoleon took over Spain in 1808 and imprisoned the king, with many Latin Americans seeing a golden opportunity to strike while the iron was hot.

Manuela Sáenz, like many women throughout Latin America, began using her status as an elite woman to help with the revolutionary cause. On multiple occasions, she supplied money, mules, and food to various rebel leaders, including José San Martín, who had successfully led independence campaigns in Argentina and Chile and was gathering anti-Spanish forces together in Peru. As tensions rose in Peru, military and political gossip spread like wildfire through the elite social circles. As a regular attendee of parties hosted at the Spanish Viceroy, Sáenz or her slaves who accompanied her would spy and eavesdrop on the conversations and then take the information back to San Martín.

To be more specific, it was not trite gossip that Sáenz relayed back to the revolutionary leaders but vital information that greatly aided in San Martín’s understanding of Royalist officials’ plans and political agendas. She and her slaves would compile the movements of pro-Spanish troops and relay to San Martín who was an ally and who was enemy. She also often hosted parties for like-minded, anti-Spanish males and females to discuss ways to support the cause.

It should be noted that not all of Sáenz’s actions were considered scandalous; it was encouraged for women to use their influence over the domestic sphere to help with male political agendas during this period in Latin American society. Sáenz was even awarded openly by San Martín, who appointed her to the Society of Patriotic Ladies and gave her the title of Order of the Sun, which he granted to people who made a special contribution to the campaign. He even gave her a special medal that had the words “To the patriotism of the most sensitive” inscribed on it.   

Portrait of Manuela Sáenz

Though scholars don’t know exactly what motivated Sáenz to begin helping the rebel cause, they speculate the prejudices she faced growing up as an illegitimate, creole child in colonial Spanish society swayed her away from any Spanish loyalism. Regardless, primary accounts indicate that she acted on her beliefs and in direct violation of the wishes of her husband and father, no less. Notably, as merchants to high-class Europeans, they feared a revolution would be bad for business. Ultimately, Sáenz refused to be swayed by what her husband and father preferred her to do. Instead, she continued to help with the revolutionary cause from the domestic sphere for several years.

It was her political activism that led her to meet the already famous Simón Bolívar.

Now considered by historians to be the Latin American Napoleon, Bolívar was a young and brilliant general who had grand goals to unite all of South America into one country that he called Gran Columbia, reminiscent of the United States of America. Bolívar’s struggle against Spanish royalists had begun to turn in his favor when he and Manuela met. She had traveled back to Quito with her father in 1822, where she had joined a committee to prepare the city for his arrival after a victory at the battle of Pichincha.

The legend goes that she was standing on a balcony overlooking the parade as he rode into the city. When Bolívar rode by, she threw a floral decoration directly into his lap, and when he looked up, he saluted her. Later at the reception, when Bolívar met Sáenz, he allegedly said: “If all my soldiers had your aim, I would have won all the battles.” They spent the rest of the night dancing.

I can’t make up something that fly, people. What can I say? They both had game.

Now, it needs to be said that Simón Bolívar was a notorious womanizer and slept with oodles of women, constantly. It seems that Bolívar was under the assumption that their affair would end upon his leaving the city, but instead Sáenz completely devoted herself to him and his cause. She left her husband to pursue him, which was not something women just did back then, but she sure did anyway. Their affair would go on to last 8 full years until Bolívar’s death in 1830 (sorry, spoilers).

Several historians do not believe this was an entirely romantically fueled decision on Sáenz’s part, for its quite possible she saw an opportunity to gain further political power in a relationship with Bolívar. And, let me tell you, that is exactly what happened. Although debate persists about how much Bolívar truly cared about Sáenz—he continued to sleep around on campaigns, even when the two eventually began living together—no one can deny that he did appreciate her contributions to the war and kept her closer and around longer than any of his other lady friends.  

Regardless, Bolívar gave Sáenz quite a bit of power in the military. The most formal position Sáenz held was as the official secretary of Bolívar’s personal archive. This essentially meant that she was personally responsible for recording all of the information for Bolívar’s military campaign. Through this position, Sáenz traveled with the Colombian army, and as an official member of the army, she apparently wore a military uniform often. She was more than just a secretary, however; in fact, historians credit Sáenz as Bolívar’s confidant and advisor, helping him with tactical strategy.

Indeed, many historians have admitted that Bolívar’s most brilliant military accomplishments occurred when he was with Sáenz.

While in the army, Sáenz actively helped during battles, with several primary accounts from Bolívar’s men describing how she organized the troops, nursed wounded soldiers, and rescued soldiers with gunshot wounds from the battlefield. Bolívar’s general, Antonio José de Sucre, was so impressed with her “heroic” actions in battle that he nominated her to become a colonel, which Bolívar granted.

Some legends state that Sáenz actually fought in battle in full uniform, equipped with the standard saber, but there is not any solid documental proof to support this. Yet, it is evident that Sáenz became indispensable to Bolívar. In 1826, she began living in his home and managed his affairs while he was away on campaigns, becoming his “right hand (wo)man,” if you will.

At times, Sáenz even saved Bolívar’s life. Once, Sáenz received information about a planned assassination attempt against Bolívar at a party. She tried to convince him not to go, but he ignored her, thinking she was just jealous that no one invited her. In a desperate attempt to save his life, she showed up anyway, but the guard, who was actually in league with the assassins, barred her from entry due to her being in military uniform. In response, she came back again dressed as an old, dirty woman and began screaming “Where is the liberator?” (Bolívar’s political nickname). In anger and embarrassment, Bolívar came out and escorted his “crazed” lover home. Later, when the assassins came to kill him, they found he had already left.

The second time Sáenz had to save her lover’s life occurred as a surprise attack in their home. Except it wasn’t actually much of a surprise since Sáenz had already received word of it and tried to convince Bolívar to escape, but, once again, he didn’t listen. Though this is the most famous event that scholars credit her for, she is more often pictured as begging and crying on her knees for him to escape, when in actuality, she practically had to shove the man out of their bedroom window because he had wanted to be a big, brave man and stay behind to fight.

When the assassins found her in their room, they took her hostage and demanded to know where Bolívar was, so she lied and said he had never been there. Although the assassins did not spare her male counterparts in the house, they did spare Sáenz for being a woman and instead beat her with the flat of their swords, which was very merciful of them, really.

Afterward, Bolívar gave her the famous nickname “The Liberator of the Liberator.”

Despite Sáenz’s guidance and Bolívar’s brilliance, he was unable to hold together the countries he had conquered from the Spanish. Perhaps he would have beat the odds and eventually unified all of South American, but before he had the chance, Bolívar died of Tuberculosis in 1830. His rivals quickly took control of all his territory, and his powerful lover was not welcome in their countries.

Although Sáenz tried to retain political power, she was soon exiled to Jamaica. She continued to try to stay politically involved with several new political leaders from afar, but as time went on, she was mostly forgotten. Eventually, she settled in the small town of Paita, Peru, and made a living translating letters for sailors and selling tobacco and candy. Apparently, she had several dogs that she named after her and Bolívar’s enemies. Eventually, she died of in 1956 from a diphtheria epidemic.

Let’s take a pause; even though this story took a super depressing turn, I want you to know that it got better. In the last few decades, Manuela Sáenz’s reputation has slowly begun to rise again as more than just Simón Bolívar’s harlot lover. Feminist historians have been rewriting the history left behind by Bolívar’s enemies and analyzing the ways in which Sáenz was revolutionarily independent and cunning during a time when women were not typically allowed to be either.

As researchers have discovered more information, people have written several novels, as well as a movie and a dramatic opera, in defense of Sáenz’s reputation. Additionally, Venezuela and Ecuador are finally acknowledging her role in South America’s liberation from Spain. In 2010, her remains were ceremonially placed in the tomb of Simón Bolívar. And even though it is fantastic that people are rewriting her history, I think we all know the truth: Manuela Sáenz never needed anyone’s approval.