A quiet wind blew out of the jungles of Chiapas, Mexico, last October. That force was a small, sick woman near death, whose face nor full name is known -- Comandante Ramona. She was so powerful that the Mexican government dared not arrest her, though there were numerous threats of the sort. And when she arrived at the heart of Mexico for an indigenous protest, many voices spoke from behind her ski mask. The Zapatista National Liberation Army proclaimed that, through her, they had finally arrived at Mexico City and the political and military encirclement had been broken. Ramona is a Tzotzil Indian and was among those who led the Zapatista uprising on Jan. 1, 1994. Subcomandante Marcos -- who the world media projects as the leader of the Zapatistas -- actually takes his orders from the Clandestine Revolutionary Indigenous Committee on which she serves. For example, she was among those who created the Revolutionary Women's Law, which calls for, among other things, the right of women to participate in revolutionary struggles and the right to determine the number of children they bear. The Zapatistas say about a third of their army is comprised of women. Although Ramona covers her face like a soldier, she comes in peace. Indigenous people have been warred upon for centuries so they use masks to defend themselves. But underneath the masks are ordinary people who are willing to fight for peace and human rights. Unlike other commanding women in the Zapatista army, La Ramona is not known for her oratory. Instead she challenges power with a haiku of words made strong by her work among her community and imbued with the moral authority of her ancestors: as an indigenous woman, her existence represents centuries of other women's courage. Ramona was near death when she left the jungle and recently underwent two operations for renal failure. Had her command not taken her beyond the fate of other ordinary women, she might have perished in the jungles as so many women do for lack of proper medical attention. Years before starting the revolution, she sold her embroidery to tourists in San Cristobal de las Casas. Then, she wore a social mask of a different kind, one that makes so many Indians like vanishing ink -- visible for colorful picture postcards of the country; vanquished and made invisible by the authorities when they try to assert power. It is a mask worn by indigenous women throughout the world. Many indigenous women see themselves in la Ramona. And yet, many more indigenous women throughout the world do not know the Ramonas of Mexico, the Marias -- as Indian women are known -- and other Zapatista women creating history there in the Zapatistas' "liberated free zones" of Southern Mexico. Mexico continues to undergo dramatic social changes spawned by the Zapatistas' challenge of the government, yet much of the U.S. media would (STILL!) rather waste precious ink on Princess Di and her dresses or on movies that paint romantic pictures of fictional Indian princesses who save the white man. Little, dark brown women fighting for indigenous autonomous regions in Mexico and fighting for their rights as women perhaps just isn't as "sexy," as journalists like to say about a good story. "Native American women died in obscurity in American text books," says Ojibwe activist Winona LaDuke, referring to the many heroic women who resisted the subjugation of their people yet do not figure in these books. But significant changes are taking place. Indigenous people call it the realization of their ancestors' prophesies that native people North and South of this continent would unite, and women would reemerge as a force -- just as they often were prior to 1492. On different occasions when LaDuke has traveled to Chiapas and has seen women warriors in their trademark ski masks, she has recalled the stories of her ancestors and other contemporary women who have been involved in indigenous struggles. Since December, the Zapatistas have issued numerous alerts about paramilitary operations, increased military exercises and death threats against indigenous leaders. Mexican media report that villagers have been terrorized and forced out of their communities as a result of conflicts with government supporters. And the peace negotiations between the Zapatistas and the government remain at a standstill. But nothing else is standing still, and the tension builds. Yet, it is women like Ramona who can change a countryside and wrestle with governments with the smallest of hands. That the government has not wiped out the Zapatistas is a testament to the moral force of these everyday people who have created a symbolic cordon of peace around villages in Chiapas by appealing to world public opinion. "There will never be another Mexico without us," Ramona said about the role of indigenous peoples. Nor one without the women. As a Blackfeet saying goes: "A nation is not conquered until the hearts of its women are on the ground." While there's still time, the government of Mexico should listen to the wind.