Ni Una Menos: Protesting Feminicide on US-Mexico Border

CIUDAD JUÁREZ, Mexico — Isabella Cabanillas de la Torre was discovered dead– one shot to her chest and the other to her head from a high-caliber revolver– on her way home in January of 2020. She had just wished her friends goodbye after dining in the city and rode off on her bicycle past Calle Ochoa where she would face her execution.

Isabella was a vibrant twenty-six-year-old artist and activist. She was a painter, a clothing designer, a muralist, and a member of the Hijas de se Maquilera Madre collective which advocated for the rights of women in Mexico. She is yet another woman in Mexico who has fallen victim to feminicide, a crisis that rages out of control across the US-Mexico border. Feminicide is the deliberate violence against women due to their gender and often involves sexual assault and mutilation along with death.[1] These murders often remain unsolved and unpunished. Since the 1990s, more than 3,000 women have been reported missing and more than 600 have been found murdered in Ciudad Juarez alone.[2] Families are left desperate, trying to recover clues and any information as to what happened, forcing them to individually investigate the crime after the government has taken no action. With the lack of government support and acknowledgment of this problem by Mexico’s President Andrés Manuel López Obrador, artists within the community have attempted to make these murders much more visible and in the collective conscious through symbols of resistance integrated into their art works.

In the first five months of 2020, 375 women were reported murdered.[3] However, this number is likely higher due to the vast amount of cases that remain unreported. During the coronavirus pandemic, there was a 25% increase not only in domestic violence but in these murders as well.[4] This issue of violence perpetrated against women certainly predates 2020 and is rooted in a history of gender oppression heightened with the arrival of conquistadors and colonizers on the continent.[5] Not only did the conquistadors terrorize, loot, and colonize the land, but they also colonized the women through ideologies such as mestizaje which essentially permitted sexual assault as a part of the colonization.[6] This ideology has trickled down to modern day Mexican culture as evidenced by the permeation of machismo and the subordinate position of women. In Mexican culture and in Latin American culture more broadly, machismo is masculine pride where men assume a dominant role in society and relationships supporting the notion that men are superior to women. It is similar to the American concept of toxic masculinity where men are encouraged to show little vulnerability and protect and control others who are weaker than them. This constricts women to subservient roles where they are more susceptible to gender related and domestic violence.

This culture coupled with the construction of maquiladoras due to the Border Industrialization Program of 1964 and NAFTA (1994) has enabled these feminicides to occur.[7] By establishing the maquiladora program, Mexico was attempting to open their economy and industrialize through duty free importation. However, these factories exploited and harmed young women as they were in unregulated working zones. These uneducated working women were regularly abducted and murdered on their way home late at night. While the government continues to neglect these horrific events, artists utilize the visual language of indigenous Chicano works, modern art, and installation to put a spotlight on feminicide as a means of protest and to memorialize those whom they have lost. 

The majority of art related to feminicide around the border cities is done by members of community collectives such as Hijas de se Maquilera Madre, of which which Isabella Cabanillas de la Torre was an active member. Prior to her death, Isabella painted murals throughout the streets of the neighborhood, including Te Observan (They Are Watching You, 2020, Figure #5), which depicts a self-portrait surrounded by eyes and flowers.[8] Cabanillas often used the symbols of eyes in her work to engage the viewer and instill a sense of accountability. These women are watching and waiting for action. They are waiting for action to be taken not only by the government but by Mexican society which is also neglecting to truly acknowledge the murder of their sisters, daughters, and mothers. Stylistically, these murals are graffiti-like and can be compared to early Chicano Murals such as Chicano Park in San Diego (1970) where the skill of the artist is evident.[9] They are highly saturated and initially pleasant to view which draws the viewer in. Further visual exploration of the work brings the violent content to the foreground almost unexpectedly. Te Observan has since become one of the many memorials dedicated to Isabella and the many women who have come before her and unfortunately those who will follow.

Murals are a common form of artistic expression used when protesting gender violence as it is such an accessible art form for those lacking traditional artistic training. They are also located in the public arena, separated from institutional spaces such as museums and therefore have a broader reach. Community members create murals depicting missing or murdered women to reclaim that space and to make these events visible to the public as they are not being sufficiently addressed or responded to by the government (2020, Figure #4).[10] Commonly adorned with spray painted flowers, these massive portraits of women act to memorialize and honor them. These murals take inspiration from earlier artistic transborder movements, such as Chicano muralism of the 1960s and 1970s. Traditional Chicano murals were located in public spaces, similar to the feminicide murals, and were made to comment on societal issues and to express their cultural and indigenous values.[11] There was an important educational element to Chicano murals, which was their ability to inform and uplift the younger generation regarding their cultural history. While the feminicide murals primarily act to memorialize the victims, they are also constant reminders to women to act vigilantly and protect themselves.

In addition to murals, communal and participatory protest installation art is a common art form depicting feminicide at the border. These pieces often have no clear authorship but rather are organized and created by the collective community, allowing individuals to contribute to the pieces. For example, magenta crosses have been erected at the border line. These crosses are adorned with nails on which pieces of paper are attached with the names of women and young girls who are missing or have been found along the border cities (Unknown- Ongoing, Figure #1).[12] These crosses act as memorial sites and also honor these women. On any given day, one can find people paying their respects to their loved ones. Often, these women never receive a proper burial, and these crosses act to replace a traditional grave site. The highly saturated magenta hue provides a stark contrast to the barren desert landscape. As both a symbol of hope and despair, their form is deeply embedded in religious iconography as the community members of these bordering cities are devout Catholics. Both religion and communal artwork has proven to be a point of solidarity for these individuals. It is a powerful reminder that the woman who was desecrated and violently murdered is holy and sacred. In the last few months, these magenta crosses have begun to appear within the urban environment and in protest and poster mediums. Artists have erected these pink crosses in congested areas of the cities such as freeways (Unknown-Ongoing, Figure #2).[13] At the border, they act as a memorial but within the city landscape they are an ominous reminder. Even without government support, these artists are confronting the people of the city to interact and engage with these installations. Similar to the murals, they are confrontational, acting as symbols of resistance. However, they are also educational and reminders for parents and particularly mothers on the importance of educating their daughters.

Coupled with the lack of acknowledgment and action from the government, there is also an issue with shame and the perception that these feminicides are culturally taboo topics not to be discussed. For example, Laila Espinoza, a contemporary Mexican activist artist, never knew exactly why her mother vanished when she was young. She would question her grandmother and other members of the family but there was resistance, and no one gave her a clear answer. Espinoza reflects upon her experience:

Recently, Espinoza has been engaging with these existing pieces and creating her own works as a mechanism to cope and understand these horrific events. Art has become a process of healing for both her and the rest of the community. Her most recent work is entitled La Casa Verde which takes place in her childhood home where she engaged in ritualistic art making and invites the community to join her (2020, Figure #3).[15] It is approachable and accessible, welcoming members of the community to work and discuss their own stories and experiences related to feminicide. The setting of Espinoza’s childhood home provides a layer of comfort, understanding, and protection for these women, something Espinoza did not have while growing up. The works she created during these sessions at La Casa Verde often include indigenous symbols and are reminiscent of the Chicano style with a vibrant array of colors and the depiction of historical figures.

Lastly, in addition to art as healing and as a method of bringing visibility within the community, a large portion of the art created was meant as a protest, as a confrontation to the inaction of the government and as a supplement to active protests. During International Women’s Day (March 8^th 2020) people flocked to Mexico’s National Palace to participate in a peaceful march only to find militarized barriers surrounding the building.[16] The government claimed these ten-foot-tall barriers were erected as protection from anticipated violence and vandalism. President Obrador is criticized for refusing to acknowledge these murders and preventing people to express themselves or protest by erecting these walls. Obrador stressed that he is not a ‘male chauvinist’ and released the statement to defend his decision: “Barriers were put up not out of fear, but to prevent provocations and to protect historical buildings, much provocation and many people infiltrate and seek to do damage, they used violence as a form of protest.”[17] As a response, the names of feminicide victims were painted on the rigid metal fencing in white surrounding the perimeter of the palace (2020, Figure #7). Women were encouraged to visit the fencing, paint additional names and place flowers next to them. The militarized and bleak fencing surrounding Mexico’s National Palace was turned into a glorious memorial resembling a vibrant, lush garden to honor the women. Instead of using violence or aggression, these women turned this obstacle into a makeshift symbol for their movement and as a way to confront Obrador. Marcela, an activist and participant in the painting, stated, “It’s absolutely fundamental that they’re written down because our struggle is for them,” referring to the dozens of names on the barriers, and stressed that “we women want to ask for justice and that people understand and that the president, who lives here knows that we’re fighting because they are killing us.”[18]

In addition to the floral arrangements, artists from the collective #NiUnaMenos added portraits of male historical figures that they painted over and altered in an act of détournement (2020, Figure #6).[19] They painted over the president and other powerful male figures adding lipstick and makeup, hair accessories, flowers, as well as symbols and slogans of anarchy. The government was outraged and viewed this as vandalism and a sign of disrespect that attempted to invalidate the message these women were attempting to make. The artists fought back and defended their work. There is a vast difference between violence and disrespect towards an inanimate object, a portrait of these historical figures, and a human being, these women who have been continuously abused, raped, and murdered right under the government’s watch. Erika Martinez, a mother of one of the activists, exclaimed, “These paintings, these lips, these flowers were painted by my daughter who was sexually abused when she was seven years old. I want to know how the president is outraged about the painting. Why is he not outraged about the abuse of my daughter?”[20] Additional public statements and outcry were heard in support of the work. Yesenia Zamudio, another mother fighting for justice for her daughter, responded: “If he doesn’t agree with us painting the paintings, I do not agree with the fact my daughter was murdered and that for five years nobody has helped me.”[21]

While it is evident from the controversial discourse surrounding the portraits that these works were effective in challenging the president, much work remains to be done in terms of policy and enacting legislation. For years, these women have protested and created works addressing gender violence and for years the government has failed to respond. The situation has only worsened, and women are left even more unprotected and vulnerable to violence in an only more militarized Mexico. It is difficult to determine the exact impact or effect on policy and government that these murals, installations, and pieces have had, yet these persistent and dedicated women continue this important work to this day.

In March 2020, feminist collective groups began to project messages regarding their resistance and continued battle regarding feminicides onto the National Palace, the same location of the makeshift billboard and portrait painting display. As a specific reaction to the election of candidate Félix Salgado Macedonio, who was accused of sexual assault, phrases such as “Un Violador Será Gobernador” (A Rapist Will Be Governor) and “Somos Las Mujeres, Somos Una Voz Colectiva” (We Are The Women, We Are The Collective Voice) have been illuminated on the buildings in large pink text at night (2020, Figure  #8).[22] These works are efforts that act as a strategic response to the criticism of vandalism and destruction of property by Obrador as they are merely an anonymous play with light and projection. Perhaps by addressing the people rather than those select individuals in positions of power who are reluctant to stand up and demand change, these collectivist groups will continue to forge ahead and make progress. While this movement is far from over, historians of the future will look back at the struggle for justice regarding feminicides and observe the power of visual media. They will see how women harnessed the power of art as a way to memorialize those they have lost and bring a voice and a face to a group that have been continuously oppressed. By utilizing the visual language of traditional Mexican art and fusing it with modern protest aesthetics, these artists were able to put a spotlight on feminicide as a means of resistance and to commemorate those whom they have lost.