Written by Carmen Díaz Vargas, artisanal fisher, shipowner and diver's assistant, in Isla Grande de Chiloé, Chile.
Like many women, I am several roles in a single person: mother, wife, housewife, worker, social leader, and micro-entrepreneur, but one of the most important, and I say this with great pride, is that I am a woman of the sea. For me, the sea is everything, it is the economic sustenance of my family, but it is also my happiness.
Dedicating myself to the sea is the best decision I’ve ever made.
I started working with my dad when I was five years old, we would go mackerel fishing together, which was always a wonderful success. In those days, forty years ago, there was an abundance of fish and I nostalgically recall that in my house the fogón (a smoker used in the south of Chile to preserve foods) was always on, smoking something. It was the way to preserve food because we didn't have a refrigerator, much less electricity. My father was a fisherman all his life and my mother was a housewife. Together there’s five of us siblings, two brothers who work in transportation, connecting the people of the islands, fishing and three sisters, of whom I am the only one linked to the sea. Since I was a little girl, I was a very particular woman, rejecting the stereotype of a girl who played with dolls and who followed a traditional woman’s path. I was always outside playing in the field with the animals, climbing trees, moving, and loving my freedom. I never felt comfortable being locked up in the house.
I believe my father was responsible for me dedicating myself to this field. He saw that I possessed the skills to work at sea. He encouraged me and gave me wings for this life, from my youth until now. My father worked at sea all his life until his last days and left me his boat “Albatros” before he died. I remember with great affection those hours of sailing with him, talking and sharing a coffee, and making plans for the next day. I learned a lot from my father, and although he had many defects, I loved many good things about him, such as his adventurous spirit, and his ability to live off the sea, the beach, and fishing. I fell in love with the sea thanks to my father and today, although he is no longer here, I feel that he accompanies me every time I go to sea on his boat the “Albatros”.
Island life
Living on an island is not easy, many people may consider it idyllic, but living on an island is by far the least idyllic existence. Here in Chiloé, the weather conditions are everchanging, sometimes we have all four seasons in the same day, with the wind smacking the sea, bringing cold shivers. We’re used to it - Chiloé bewitches you. I feel that this is my place in the world, I adore this island. But there is a great sacrifice that we bear as Chilotes, because we lack the resources that our land-based compatriots have, with the continent’s better health services and education. Our children still must leave the island to study, an expensive burden on families and a forced migration of our youth. We cross the sea on a ferry, taking about an hour to reach the mainland, and then hop on an hour-long bus to Puerto Montt. Mulling over this decision, I wouldn’t want to leave our island in chase of a promised better life.
A territory with unique biodiversity
This work allows me to perceive nature in an exceptional way. Every day I see flora and fauna, birds migrating and nesting, and our rich marine biodiversity, and I feel extremely privileged. But I am also aware that this place is very vulnerable.
In Chiloé we have witnessed many social, economic, and environmental changes on our island. Almost ten years ago, the red tide (algae bloom) brought severe suffering to our community. It was a catastrophe. Because it polluted the sea, it affected everything: we could not work, we could not fish, and we could not eat. A health crisis was declared, which officially stopped the artisanal fishing activities – we couldn’t work for almost two months, which was unbearably difficult for everyone. We became more isolated than ever thanks to the road blockades, cutting our connection with the outside world for almost twenty days. It was one of the darkest moments for us.
Just remembering that time makes me feel a lump in my throat and a deep sadness for everything we had to live through. Little by little, the contamination passed, but the damage lingered. We were finally permitted to sell our catch again, but people were afraid of consuming seafood, even if it had been sampled and had up-to-date sanitary controls. This made the economic recovery drag on, but at least we could feed our families. At that time, I was new in the industry. I had become the leader of my union just a couple of days before this issue exploded. It was very challenging for everyone. We heads of the unions had to spend a lot of time away from our homes, as we met with government authorities and, at the same time, raised our voices in street protests about what had happened.
We have people following various livelihoods in Chiloé, including small-scale farming, aquaculture, and tourism services like gastronomy and crafts. But artisanal fishing is the livelihood that truly represents us Chilotes.
Many people in the territory descend from the Chono peoples, nomads, and navigators who travelled islands, fjords and channels of Chiloé and the neighbouring Aysén region—so the sea is part of our identity.
A woman dedicated to artisanal fishing
Twenty five years ago, I met my now-husband Jaime Subiabre, who’s also coincidentally dedicated to the sea, working as shellfish diver. His dream was always to have his own boat and work for himself. I wanted to support him, so together we started to save and build our boat from scratch. In those years, everything we earned was destined for our dream - and we achieved it! We named our boat Danibel (a mix of Daniela Belen, our daughter's name), yet there was some work to be done before she took flight.
We had to formalise the permits from the maritime authority before fishing, which required having a minimum crew of two people with two fisherman’s licenses. Only Jaime had one. So, I decided to obtain the artisanal fisherman's license, against all odds, because here men and people in general are still very macho and expect that women stay home taking care of the children and cooking. I say this because I assured Jammie that, if I got the license, I would embark with him – and he agreed – although he worried that the authorities wouldn’t award me a permit. I have always been very persistent, so it was a challenge that I knew I would overcome. When I received my first license, it was superb, and then I went on to get a shellfish diver's assistant license. While it was a tremendous challenge, I could now work alongside my husband. Even today, I am proud to say that I’m still the only woman who sails in the commune of Chonchi urbano and who is on par with the male fishermen.
Chonchi is a commune located on the east coast of Chiloé, with about six thousand residents, most of whom live in the rural areas. I am the president of the first union of artisanal fishermen of Chonchi, which is 90% male, so I feel I’m making history, creating a motherland – people assume there’s more men than woman but it’s not so. There are many women who work stealthily, practically invisible like ants, so it has not been easy to “hacienda patria” or create our own homeland. I have always respected myself enough to know my value amongst my fellow fishermen. This platform has allowed me to meet women from different places who seek to level the playing field for us in the fishing sector and to help other women access information and benefits.
Recently, together with other women, we formalised work that we had been doing for a long time in regional and national organisations, forming Mujeres Contracorriente Asociación Gremial (Counter-current Women Guild Association), which I chair, and which includes women from the ten communes of the province of Chiloé. Together, we seek to make positive change and empower women, but also inspire future generations of female fishers. Our message is that everyone can do it, that women can continue working and doing whatever they want. Women are unique and we can do great things—we should let nothing stand in our way. So I invite and motivate you to work in this field, because it is gratifying to earn your own money and have economic independence. We are also working to change the face of fishing – so when people think of artisanal fishers, they don’t just imagine men, but rather they see women and men with equal talents.
Building on the success of Mujeres Contracorriente Asociación Gremial, and thanks to my positive spirit, I managed to gain public funds from the Regional Government and create Mujer de Sal (Salt Woman). This is a family micro-business where we sell seafood like octopus and fish. This diversifies and complements my work as a fisherwoman, and is an investment in our future: we know that in a couple of years, our old age will make it harder to fish like we do today. We are just getting started, but we are very hopeful that we’ll prosper. Our family works together, with our son and daughter helping us prepare octopus, fish, or seafood ceviche that we catch ourselves and sell at my commune’s cultural and gastronomic fairs. This gives us some extra income during the summer months, and I feel very proud of what we are creating as a family.
Fishing is an activity that fills our hearts, but it is also very sacrificial and uncertain. Being fishers, we rely on weather conditions, available resources and other factors that cannot always be controlled, so nothing is certain. When you go out to sea, you are never sure that you are going to return to land or if you are going to catch what you need. A plan B is always necessary, diversification is key, and Mujer de Sal is all that and more.
I look back and I feel like I'm in the right place and with the people I want to be with. I consider myself a happy and fulfilled person in all areas, I have a home with a beautiful family, fresh food that I harvest myself, and, I have the opportunity to help other people. All of these gifts have been given to me by the sea.
A note from the WWF Coastal Communities Initiative:
We celebrate the resilience and innovation of coastal communities around the world who are leading efforts to conserve and restore our precious marine ecosystems. From around the world, inspiring individuals are taking action to protect their coastal homes and livelihoods. WWF has been working with change-makers like Carmen around the world to scale these solutions for a healthier, more sustainable future for all. Look at these stories and more in our recently launched global impact report for WWF Coastal Communities.
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