Breathe
By Name
It's March again. The streets of Mexico City are painted lilac. The jacarandas prepare to receive the feminist march. We are alive. We are out to take to the streets, to speak out. The demands are diverse. Each one of us does it at her own pace and we all walk so as not to die. We name those who are no longer here. We shout their names into the air so as not to forget. Eleven women murdered every day, because they are women; because they did not fulfill what was expected of them, according to the roles, mandates, stereotypes and patriarchal gender prejudices in: the house, the couple, the family, the work, the street. Or, precisely because eleven men, decided that if they were not with them, they would not be with anyone, because they felt anger and once again things were not as they expected and, why not, beat them until the last breath. Perhaps, because they were used as sex objects and then discarded, because they were beaten and they were overdone. Or simply because they can and for the vast majority of cases, there will be no consequences whatsoever. Life will go on as if nothing happened.
Femicides are hate crimes against women. They are possible, thanks to social and State impunity. Because: it has always been this way and what difference does it make, or, lady, go back home and do things right, do not provoke it anymore, there is not enough evidence to classify the crime as attempted femicide, or because there are so many files and the working conditions of the public prosecutors are so precarious that they cannot cope with them. There are many excuses. What is certain is that violence against women has been classified by the UN as a pandemic that requires urgent and committed attention from all sectors.
