Breathe
By Brenda Macias
Marching is not just walking; it is taking over the public space, making ourselves present and making visible the discomforts and violence we suffer for the simple fact of being women. To march alone, together, separately, however, but to go out. To go out of the private space, to call attention, to shout, to murmur, but always to make noise to make evident what many times we want to hide.
The question that crosses us is profound: are you born a woman or do you become one? That woman we are building, although sometimes we fall into the same patterns that lead us to the abyss, because it is not easy to inhabit this body, this identity, this existence. It is not easy to trust, but in the collective, true friendships, solidarity, support, rights and obligations flourish. That reality that sometimes seems like the dark side of the moon blooms, but which, when illuminated, shows us that we are not alone.
This past March 8, International Women's Day, I marched with the contingent of the Center for Research and Gender Studies (CIEG) of UNAM, where I work and where I have found an invaluable support network. A space where it is possible to put into practice a feminist ethic, or at least to approach a way of working that allows us to share from the differences and diversities. I marched happily, despite the scorching sun, looking for shady paths so that we could all move forward in peace. Something happens in that movement, in that constant walking. Something is transformed when we take to the streets and make the invisible visible.
