Before beginning her ascent, Ana Lia González Maguiña checks her gear with care. Warm layers for the cold. A harness and rope for the climb ahead. Sunglasses to shield her eyes from the sharp Andean sun. And, finally, a voluminous hot-pink pollera.
The layered bell skirt, traditionally worn by Indigenous women in Bolivia’s highlands, is an arresting sight against the stark white slopes of Huayna Potosí, one of the country’s tallest peaks. Yet for González Maguiña, a professional mountaineer, the pollera is neither costume nor obstacle. It is simply what she wears.
Once imposed by Spanish colonisers, the pollera has been transformed over generations. Reworked with local fabrics and intricate patterns, it has shifted from a symbol of control to one of pride. Today, many Indigenous women — often referred to as cholitas — choose to wear it while working in physically demanding and male-dominated fields, from mining and mountaineering to wrestling and football.
“Our sport is tough,” says González Maguiña, standing at the foot of the mountain near La Paz. “Doing it in pollera represents strength. It’s about valuing our roots. It’s not for show.”
That sentiment is echoed across the country. In the mining region of Oruro, Macaria Alejandro finishes her shift underground with her pollera coated in dust. For her, the garment is inseparable from daily life. “I work like this and wear this for my children,” she says. “We keep moving forward.”
For many women, wearing the pollera in such settings is an assertion of identity rather than a rejection of modernity. They reject the idea that traditional dress limits capability, arguing instead that it carries cultural memory into spaces where it was once unwelcome.
At the same time, the current moment feels uncertain. Bolivia has recently entered a new political phase following years of leadership that foregrounded Indigenous representation and symbolism. During that period, the pollera was visible not only in homes and markets but also in government buildings, worn by officials and ministers.
Some women now express concern about what lies ahead. They note the absence of Indigenous representation in positions of power and point to changes in the public display of Indigenous symbols as signs of distance rather than inclusion. While economic recovery remains a shared priority, the fear is that cultural recognition may quietly recede.
“I feel like we won’t be taken into account,” says Alejandro. “We needed change, but it’s painful not to see people like us represented.”
Still, hope persists. González Maguiña views the pollera as proof of resilience rather than vulnerability. “We already have strength,” she says. “We’ve come too far to disappear.”
Worn on mountainsides, in mines and across city streets, the pollera continues to carry history — not as a relic, but as a living, moving presence.
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