Ongoing project · Querétaro & Mexico City · 2020 —
#8M
Marchas del Día Internacional de la Mujer
In Mexico, ten women are killed every day. Gender violence crosses every state and every social class, and has been met, year after year, with tepid institutional response. Out of that reality a feminist movement has grown into one of the largest civic mobilizations in the country's history.
Every March 8, women take over the streets of Mexico's cities. In 2020 the marches became the largest mobilization of women the country had ever recorded: around 80,000 in Mexico City alone, and in Querétaro, a city where tradition prefers calm at any cost, official counts admitted 5,000 while those who marched counted at least twice as many. The numbers have grown every year since.
This series follows the march from 2020 to 2026, in Querétaro and Mexico City. What began as an eruption has become an appointment: mothers, daughters, collectives and first-timers who return each March to count themselves, and to be counted.
On this day, you can read the article I wrote for Diario de Querétaro (in Spanish).
A young woman closes her eyes under a sign reading “Las niñas no se tocan” (girls are not to be touched) as pots are banged around her. Querétaro, March 8, 2020.
A protester raises her fist during the march through the center of Querétaro, March 8, 2020.
That year Mexico registered ten women killed every day; the chants that afternoon repeated their names.
A woman in a balaclava holds a wooden cross bearing the name Brenda. Querétaro, March 8, 2020.
Crosses carried through the center of the city name women who did not survive.
A girl holds up a sign reading “Las niñas NO se violan, no se tocan, no se matan” (girls are not raped, not touched, not killed) beside a woman with her arm in a sling. Querétaro, March 8, 2020.
“Hoy grito por todas” (today I scream for all of them): a sign filled with the names of victims of femicide rises above the crowd. Querétaro, March 8, 2020.
Around it, other signs answer: we are the voices of those who are no longer here.
A woman bangs a pot at nightfall in Plaza Constitución. Querétaro, March 8, 2020.
The 2020 march stretched into the night and ended in a cacerolazo in the center of the city.
“Ni una +” (not one more), written on a marcher's cheek. Querétaro, March 8, 2020.
The next day, millions of women across Mexico joined a national strike, Un Día Sin Nosotras.
“Yo sí te creo” (I do believe you): a marcher carries the message on her skin. Querétaro, March 8, 2022.
A mother in a balaclava carries her baby through the march. Querétaro, March 8, 2022.
“Ma, si no me encuentras, búscame en las estrellas” (Mom, if you can't find me, look for me in the stars). Querétaro, March 8, 2022.
The sign, addressed to a mother, borrows the words of daughters who never came home.
A Mexican flag covered in red handprints flies over the march. Querétaro, March 8, 2023.
A girl with “8M” painted on her cheek holds her mother's hand along the route. Querétaro, March 8, 2023.
A young woman shouts as the march advances through the center of Mexico City, March 8, 2024.
That year the capital's march drew one of the largest crowds in its history.
A couple kisses beside a bonfire in the Zócalo at the end of the march. Mexico City, March 8, 2024.
Purple smoke drifts across the Zócalo at sunset as the demonstration winds down. Mexico City, March 8, 2024.
Policewomen line a street off the Zócalo, white roses tucked into their riot shields. Mexico City, March 8, 2024.
On March 8, the officers deployed along the route are women.
A marcher carries a poster demanding justice for Perla, a year after her femicide. Querétaro, March 8, 2026.
The sign says what the courts have not: one year without justice.
“Vivas, libres y sin miedo” (alive, free and unafraid), written across a marcher's chest. Querétaro, March 8, 2026.
Six years after the first march of this series, the words on the skin remain.
Mothers and children paste signs on a doorway at the end of the march; a boy climbs the gate to add his own. Querétaro, March 8, 2026.