Breathe
By Mónica Hernández
The day has come to shake off our apathy, dust off our good intentions and translate them into an intrinsic action, powerfully intimate and at the same time, one that unites us with our fellow countrymen and women. The day of the march has arrived, to the Zócalo in Mexico City, to the plazas throughout the Mexican territory, including embassies and consulates around the world. The cell phone explodes with images of many friends who have not hesitated to take to the streets and make themselves heard. It is what unites us, more than what separates us that pushes us to be present.
Only that not every Mexican who wishes to do so (it is not an obligation but an inalienable right that was exercised yesterday, Sunday, February 26) can do so. Today it was my turn to march in silence, from my trench: I have a sick daughter that I have to take care of. Of course, I cannot take her out into the sun, let alone run the risk of her getting worse. Today I am a mother before I am a patriot, because that is how I feel, a couple of days after my flag was raised all over the country.
