“No man will hand the presidency to his wife,” my grandmother assured me a year before Cristina Fernandez de Kirchner, dressed in bridal white, took the presidential baton from her husband and ushered in a new era of Argentine politics in 2007. As her inaugural speech boomed out from speakers on the street in the December heat, women watching grinned at each other in joy and disbelief: a woman being sworn in as “Presidenta“-our world had changed. The knowledge that a woman can lead the country, the pride this generates, is heady stuff.

The now-well-established trend of female leadership in Latin America took off with the 2006 election of Michelle Bachelet in Chile, followed by Kirchner in 2007 in Argentina, and eventually Dilma Rousseff in Brazil last year. Mexico’s conservative ruling party has now nominated a woman, Josefina Vázquez Mota, to be its candidate in July’s presidential balloting (Vázquez Mota recently spoke at Zócalo). The trend is heartening in a region generally considered so machista it gave birth to the term itself.

The shift is the result of increased female participation in politics in the past couple of decades, a reflection of evolving social values. Despite the stereotypes, surveys dating back over a decade show a willingness to vote for women for high political office. Changing political structures-such as the parliamentary quota systems for women introduced in parts of the region-have boosted female presence in national and provincial legislatures. In Argentina, women represent 37 percent of Congress’s lower chamber and 39 percent of the Senate.

Cristina-she is referred to by her first name, joining Hillary, Dilma, and Ségolène-hasn’t swept her femininity under a rug. She has for years spoken to “todos y todas” in her speeches and, since assuming office, has been flanked by two female military officers at public events. She favors feminine clothing, refers to herself as a mother, and, since her husband and former president Nestor Kirchner died in October 2010, she stands before the country as a widow in mourning. She has inspired a loyal following, handily winning her re-election campaign last year with 54 percent of the vote

Such diversity in politics serves democracy. When people of different social classes, races, sexual orientations, and genders hold public office, they broaden representation. Often, however, pundits overreach in describing how epochal a game-changer female leadership can be. Does electing a presidenta ensure peace and prosperity for all? Of course not. While polls suggest that many voters do have higher expectations for hypothetical female leaders, possibly because they’re seen as a break from politics as usual, female leaders can of course be just as bellicose and corrupt as male ones.

They can also be just as unpopular. For all the admiration Cristina enjoys, she also inspires intense distaste, at least some of which has to do with an underlying misogyny. Just look at the sort of criticism Kirchner receives: her clothing is too costly, her palette too vibrant (before she took on mourning black), her tone of voice too schoolmarmish, the locks of hair that she brushes back from her face during speeches too flippant, her penchant for photo-friendly small microphones too coquettish. One also hears that she demonstrates that women are too volatile (read, hormonal) for politics and too soft to control the caudillos of provincial politics. Then, of course, there are ongoing theories that she is manipulated by men-lovers?-behind the scenes. On a lesser scale, there isn’t a significant female politician anywhere who hasn’t been accused in the public eye of shrillness, resentment, unattractiveness, bitchiness, or flat-out insanity. This litany, sadly, is the cost of doing political business for women.

Despite having a presidenta in the aptly named presidential “Pink House,” being female in Argentina and the region remains a handicap, at times a deadly one, as seen in the mortality rates for women due to domestic violence and lack of access to women’s healthcare (including the prohibition of abortion in most of Latin America).

Feminism, then, is not a relic of the past but a relevant category for contemplation, activism, and policy-making. Feminists, however, sometimes seem to focus more on what’s symbolically important than on what’s concretely important. For instance, it often seems we’re fighting to elect more female politicians because it will make things better for women. But that assertion is unfounded. Not only does this argument imply that women have monolithic interests; it also suggests that those interests are primarily gender-related. Female politicians represent geographic, economic, and ideological interests, and their female constituents, like people in general, do not share just one worldview. One need look no further than abortion debates across Latin America, where women hold impassioned views on both sides of the issue.

Thanks to the ascension of female presidents, the glass ceiling in Latin America has certainly been raised very high. But feminists’ focus should be less lofty: most women crash up against concrete barriers far before any crystalline rooftop. All over the world, women need security, healthcare, economic opportunities, and access to schools far more than they need a presidential office. It’s important to have female role models, but to change society requires more than that.

In sum, should we applaud the trend of increased female political leadership? Definitely. Should we expect certain preordained results from this trend? Absolutely not. As an Argentine, I am proud of what a female president can achieve in our country, in spite of the difficulties created by her gender. Society should strive to bring women into politics as a matter of justice, of equality, and to celebrate what their achievement says about us-men and women. Choosing a presidenta is similar to the milestone of Barack Obama’s election in the United States. His triumph was a historical accomplishment for the American people, but not one that eradicated bigotry from the land.

I wish I could say, “I told you so” to my grandmother. But she’s smart enough to know she was only partially wrong. We have a presidenta. Some things have changed. We’re working on the rest.

Jordana Timerman, a Buenos Aires native, is an adviser in Argentina’s Secretary of Transport and a member of the Centro de Estudios Perspectiva Sur, of Generación Política Sur (GPS). The views expressed in this piece are purely her own.

*Photo courtesy of Presidencia de la República del Ecuador.