Catártica: March '22

En portada: Prymachenko, (1977), El ave que mira en las cuatro direcciones, Gouache sobre papel.

En índice: Prymachenko, (1983), Urraca en Rosas, Gouache sobre papel.

Buymeacoffee.com/catartica

Maria Primachenko AGC Self-perception Fernanda Alejandra García Spring Victor Rivera Boobs out, Delacroix Style M.I. Flores Nachón Not everything is... Warhol Rossanna Huerta honor to whom honor is due

Lita Cabellut Hepato Amanirena 8M

Catártica is a space to talk about art outside the official discourse, the one that escapes definitions, and at the same time a place where fiction, essay and poetry can wander naked, putting the writer and the public face to face.

Would you like to have Catártica in your daily life?

2281 5161 34

4

Agc

MARIA PRYMACHENKO

Art expresses content, when it burns in flames it reduces its material side to ashes, while its meaning smokes, expands, and disappears when people forget and records become just another piece of paper.

On February 28th, northeast of Kyiv, flames overtook the Ivankiv Museum of Local History, which became a victim of the Russian bombardment of Ukraine. The museum pieces could not be recovered from the flames, so 25 of Maria Prymachenko's (1909 - 1997) pieces were destroyed.

Known for using vibrant colors, Prymachenko stands out for taking elements of naïf art and complementing them with figures and characters inspired by her childhood in the small rural community of Bolotnya, but also by Ukrainian folklore and general landscapes.Using natural pigments, watercolors, gouache, and embroidery threads, the Ukrainian produced around 650 art pieces that are currently distributed among museums and private collections.

5

The icons that stand out in her paintings include flowers, fruits, animals, both real and imaginary, characters dressed in traditional Ukrainian clothes, and simple figures that together make up the artist's imaginary landscapes.

As a result, Maria Prymachenko's work became part of the national identity, her animal series of paintings eventually gave life to a collection of Ukrainian postage stamps. Also, in 1996 she was awarded the Taras Shevchenko Ukrainian National Prize, the most important state prize. Sadly, the cultural and historical loss of the country is irreparable, as these artworks are not the only ones that have been damaged by the recent attacks, which leaves Ukraine's heritage under threat of destruction and has caused institutions to start protecting both sculptures and historical sites that cannot be moved and transferring their collections to other museums in Europe.

Art is a fundamental part of the formation of identity within communities, so its destruction threatens more than tangible goods, it threatens the cultural heritage rooted in the population and the identity they have formed from it.

6

SELFPERC

Fernanda Alejandra García 7

CEPTION Self-perception is a series of (3) images that emerged as a product of repeated encounters with my appearance, of doubts that stand out from my reflected self, of questions that I did not know how to formulate, of discomforts that still had no name.

Some days those discomforts from my daily ritual received me with open arms, while on others it was presented in the most horrendous way. The unsettledness came from my reflection and moved inwards

8

What makes me recognize myself? I asked myself several times. Does my face have a specific order? I came to the conclusion that I am made up of factions that have a certain sequence and dimensions. They become fragments of me because of the interaction between them, but also because of the notion of emptiness; the space between my eyebrows or for example the distance between my eyes and my mouth.

Looking at each other, the air of familiarity comes from the illusion of invariability of my own image. It does seem the same but I don't see it as such, because I am not, which is why some days I feel more alienated when impermanence becomes more evident and there is a confrontation between what I see and the idea I have of myself.

My life-saving quote: "if you're lost, remember that this is you" has the intention of conveying that looking in the mirror is an act of reading yourself. A letter that can be found in each of the pieces that makes me because, in addition to reminding me of who I am in moments of uncertainty, it highlights the importance of putting identity into words.

To understand my substance I need to put myself into words.

In the faces, the cutouts are clear and the fragments do not establish a fusion relationship with the canvas —which is my face itself— to reinforce the sense of not belonging, at the same time that in some areas the emptiness that it brings with it is highlighted in white. the displacement of my fragments.

8

The first face shows no interventions because it represents the anchor point to my own identity warning us that it is about to dissolve, the moment to which it is safe to return in case of losing ourselves; in the second face, the alteration of the order that was already brewing below the surface begins to manifest, which turns my features upside down and in the third face there is already a change of both order and dimensions. That is to say, it is not recognizing oneself and that this process is escalating.

In the second image, the fragments of my features become a graphic glossary, like a table of equivalences that introduces the eyes that observe for the first time, whether they are their own or others. It is the act of presentation that reinforces that looking and being looked at is an act of reading. Observing and being observed is an experience.

Finally, the third image in the series delves into my own ignorance beyond what is tangible, it is that moment in which the multiplicity that I harbor suddenly weighs more and I feel that there are others that unfold in me.

WHICH OF THESE AM I?

BOTH,

ALL OF THEM 9

Victor Rivera

After the fever rose, there was nothing else to do. His pulse stopped and his breathing gradually gave way. He died as he would have liked, reading every day, and as best he could, his Japanese literature books.

That night of March 20, we left the hospital convinced that there was no other way to affirm his life than by rejecting his death. ​I, who did not dare to take his hand even under these conditions, saw him lying on a chair for several days, he was weak and did not say much to me. As I said, he read almost all the time, until one of those days when his temperature rose, he fell asleep. Perhaps I would have dreamed of some green landscape full of flowers, bathed in warm orange colors, with herds of farm animals and children on bicycles, pedaling until they collect the largest number of pink petals, "I would like as many as fit in my hand!" sure, he said.

11

My father died the day my only daughter was born. My wife, who was giving birth on the other side of the city, would perhaps believe that I had abandoned her, that she had disappeared as many others in this country do. But how could I have explained that I decided to spend my last days with the person who never loved me, who rarely took care of me, rather than with the person who had given me so much joy?

Certainly it is something that cannot be explained, I did not want to be with him, however, the last three days I did not even eat anything. Of course, so little I called her, I found out that she was giving birth today because my brother had talked to my mother-in-law on the phone.

My wife is strong-willed. So many years after that day, she never fully told me what it was like to be in the hospital room, she didn't tell me how much she suffered during the contractions, she didn't even tell me about the food they gave her. Of course he deserved no less than that, but he still understood me.

Filling in the empty spaces, I heard her say in my head, "What a fucking hour these are to be born!", knowing that rudeness would most likely make the nuns uncomfortable. That's how she was, she liked to annoy people around her, she often told me that she felt happy doing it.

We sat on the sidewalk listening to the screech of the tires on the pavement. We smoked for several hours and didn't say anything, we didn't allow ourselves to cry either. It was our father, the one who told us stories about Japanese culture and the years he spent in Kyoto, the ancient capital of Japan. When I was a child, I loved listening to stories about his youth, they made me feel tremendous illusion: he told me about traditional festivals; how he learned to speak the language and to write it; his academic background seemed especially intriguing to me; his trade as a professor was admirable; and his last joy, when he met my mother, a Mexican who had obtained a one-semester scholarship to study the language.

11

He said that he had fallen in love with her so much that he came to Mexico to look for her and they got married after a few months. Then I was born, and two years later my brother. We were a united and happy family until my mother died, when I turned seven. Since then, my dad became obsessed with taking us back to Japan, a place that only he knew. He did his best to scrape together enough money, but with the devaluation of the peso in 1994, his only reason for living slipped away. Since then he lived with an immense grudge against us, one that he could never confess.

When half past ten struck, my brother got up and said that he would take care of everything necessary so that I could go see my wife: "You should go see your wife." If you don't go, if you don't explain what happened…

But he was silent. Why? I think that he didn't know the consequences of my actions either, but in those very strange situations,

when deaths bring people together, almost romantic and pathetic confidence changes us, we are filled with melancholy and sadness, and we seek to repress the pain by making the strong, appropriating moral discourses that we do not know where they have come from.

“Just don't. Don't do the same thing he did to us,” he said as he walked back to the hospital.

Those were his words. I remember them well because, after that day, we never had a moment alone between brothers. We've met a couple of times, but we don't say much. "Don't do the same thing he did to us", but how is it similar? He was always with us, although he never loved us again.

I, from the first day, abandoned my daughter and my wife. And what did he know? He hadn't even had girlfriends, what was he to know?

13

I took a taxi to our house and upon arrival I asked the driver to wait for my suitcase to be dropped off. When I walked in it was empty and smelled musty. I don't know how long my wife had been in the hospital, but she definitely hadn't opened the windows. I opened the door to our room and turned on the light; the house was still cold and the spotlight didn't seem to cover all four walls. When I finished packing, I turned around and, on the headboard, I recognized a photo that I had kept inside one of my old shoes. The photo was mine, and I guess my wife had it framed in case I came back for it.

The horn sounded a second time and I began to cry uncontrollably. In movies, whenever something like this happens the signs are easy to read, there is some teaching behind the hidden symbolism in a photo. I should have thought that maybe my dad wasn't so bad because sometimes he smiled, because maybe, since we never talked about it, the years made us dumb and silence forced us to accept that life of resentment. But no, life is not like the popular movies or books. My dad had died and I never knew and never will know what he thought about me.

I was with my dad and my brother at a small lake in Hidalgo. The taxi's horn honked for the first time, but I couldn't stop looking at the photo. My dad was smiling and it was as if I had never noticed. My brother was in his arms, asleep, and I was next to his folding chair, holding him. It wasn't Japan, it was a part of Mexico: it wasn't even the capital, it wasn't even the center of Pachuca, it was just a lake full of ahuehuetes.

The horn sounded a third time. I looked at the clock, it was almost twelve o'clock. I grabbed my keys, wiped my tears and ran to the car.

"Take me to the Hospital de la Sagrada Concepción."

14

C. Mayer, (c. 1800) Musa, [óleo sobre lienzo]

1

M.I. Flores Nachón

15

C. Mayer, (c. 1801) Autorretrato, [óleo sobre lienzo], Bibliothèque Marmottan

2

She began her career as a student of JosephBenoît Suvée and Jean-Baptiste Greuze, and in 1801 she started working in David's studio, under his tutelage and doing an excellent job.

1 2

La frase que compone el título es tomada de la canción Ay Mamá de Rigoberta Bandini.

Flores Nachón, María Inés, (2021) Mitad Angel mitad marisco: Maruja Mallo, Espora 29. https://issuu.com/esporarevista/docs/espora29_d14b7ab6e483bd

Her work is described as the demonstration of the learning from his three teachers mentioned above, representing the neoclassical style with great technique, "but in a certain way, and probably due to her gender, always inclined towards the sentimentality of the scenes." She was recognized for her work when she presented Citizenship Mayer's Self-Portrait although she still had to accept that it was student work in order to be accepted at an exhibition.

After David, Constance began to develop in the studio of Paul-Pierre Prud'hon, a famous cartoonist, making the first sketches of paintings.

P. Prud'hon, (c. 1804) Retrato de Constance Mayer

There was much talk of a superior technique on the part of Constance when working hand in hand with Pierre, however, staying as part of the studios allowed her to at least have a presence in the guild, unlike women at the time that decided to do it on their own.

Rumors and realities of an extra-work relationship between Pierre and Constance began, despite the 17 years that separated them, and Prud'hon's family of five children.

We know well that the apprentice who works in an artist's studio must forget their own name when signing the artwork, and precisely this situation began to happen with Constance and Pierre, not only were the works done by the two signed in the name of Prud' hon but also works of total authorship of Constance were attributed to Pierre in name of her love. Again I want to emphasize the fact that Paul-Pierre Prud'hon had a wife, and five children and the story goes that on his wife's deathbed, he was "forced" to promise not to marry Constance.

17

The love affair between the two artists was steeped in an indescribable passion, and a supposedly mutual dedication, as well as a long history between them. Constance's heart was broken after the impediment of being eternally with Pierre, so she decided to end her own life, cutting her throat with the knife that belonged to Pierre. She being a single woman, being a love affair, without children and therefore, without any legacy. Finding himself alone, Pierre died of a broken heart a year after Constance. Pierre's five children made the decision to erase Constance from history, and sign all the paintings produced by her in the name of Paul-Pierre Prud'hon.

We are still stuck with the half-told story of Constance, with the paintings from which her trace was erased, and from the books of which her name is not part of. Today I was inspired, Constance, you are not my muse but my example and we are your daughters, your lost legacy, and we are longing to have a name between the studio and the tutelage of man. So with our boobs out, Delacroix Style, we are taking these speeches and twisting them until we squeeze out the truth, let the ink that was trapped behind the canvas drain, and let those who have erased us bleed and fear, because we will come out free and victorious. I give you back your name Marie-Françoise-Constance Mayer-La Martiniére, great artist of the 18th century.

C. Mayer (1806), El sueño de Venus

18

Mi gente / My people 1965 SerigrA todos los llamados de tu nombre / To all of my calling of your name 1962 Serigrafía / Serigraph 19

WARHOL Rossanna Huerta

What do you think of when you hear “Pop Art”? I think the first thing that pops up in our mind is Andy Warhol or Roy Lichenstein, especially the images of Marylin Monroe or the portraits based on the comic style. We are entirely wrong, those are the most common pieces of Pop Art but there is another side that is also not so well known. To begin, let us understand that Pop Art makes references to popular culture, so we do not usually associate it with activism, however, Corita Kent invites us to reflect on that.

Corita Kent, born Elizabeth Kent, was a nun who used art as a tool for her social activism. She entered the convent of the Sisters of the Immaculate Heart of Mary at the age of 18. It is necessary to give a little context, not all convents force women to seclude themselves from social life, the way in which the convens govern the life of the nuns depends a lot on the religious order.

In the case of Kent, she was allowed to continue studying art at various universities in California, United States. So much so that she even taught art classes in her own convent.

20

Mi gente / My people 1965 Serigrafía / Serigraph

Kent saw art as a democratic tool that should be available to everyone, which is why she saw that it was the ideal way to convey the message of love and tolerance. Her work is dominated by color and her own calligraphy, combining it with various fonts. Her art becomes the word itself. Kent's work was increasingly political, depicting text and images relating to the Vietnam War and humanitarian crises of all kinds.

21

Clase de serigrafía de Corita Kent / Lessons of serigraph with Corita Kent Sin fecha / No date Autor desconocido / Autor unknown

The ecclesiastical hierarchy did not like that, and she was described as a "communist" and a "blasphemer." This caused her to withdraw for a couple of years from the artistic sphere and move to Boston, however, she could not get away from her passion for so long. From the 70's we see a change in her style and recurring themes of her, she becomes a much more introspective and spiritual expression. It is considered that her artistic evolution was due to the changes that took place in her life, from moving to another state to her constant battle with cancer (Lampkin, 2019).

22

Trono de sabiduría / Seat of wisdom 1952 Serigrafía / Serigraph

Something I love about Kent is the way she challenges the artistic and religious establishment without leaving aside the spiritual side of her. If we look a little in the history books we might realize that very few mention Kent, this is because, compared to her male counterparts, she did not seek to make art for a commercial gain but rather as a tool that allowed her to transmit messages to the masses. Kent understands the importance of words and representing historical events. Kent was not intimidated, she did not mind not being in the Pop Art canon, she continued to produce supporting the visual culture of the 60's and 70's counterculture.

Lampkin, F. (2019) Corita Kent. Historia del arte! https://historia-arte.com/artistas/corita-kent Corita Kent (s.f.) Corita Art Center. https://www.corita.org/

23

HONOR A QUIEN HONOR MERECE

Fotografía por Sofía R.Noba

Honor to

LITA CABELLUT rossanna huerta Honor to Lita Cabellut! a Spanish artist who stands out for her large-scale artworks with her own fresco technique while using the objectification of women as the main theme in her work.

We are used to the fact that every time we see a portrait of a woman, there is an emphasis placed on her beauty, but in Cabellut's paintings, we observe how she breaks with this paradigm. Her works are hyper-realistic portraits that go against classic and traditional guidelines, she does not sugar coat the lives of women, on the contrary, in her pieces she shows us the reality of the situation that many women live in all over the world: violence and cruelty (Hermoso, 2022).

Her fresco technique, also to be admired, incorporates a strategic crackling in her canvases that allows certain details of her painting to be enhanced, thus increasing the visual impact generated by the symbols within her works.

25

Miquiztli, de la serie Una Crónica Infinita 2018

Let us honor Lita Cabellut, Let's honor her unique painting style, Let's honor the women behind the great works of our time Let's honor women.

Hermoso, B. (2022) Lita Cabellut: el arte de deconstruir el arte. El País. https://elpais.com/eps/2022-0122/lita-cabellut-el-arte-de-deconstruir-el-arte.html

26

Honor to

HEPATO

M.I. Flores Nachón

I think that in my life, I have rarely written about my mom. Or few that have been made public, and she more than anyone in my life, deserves to be honored every day of her existence.

María Gabriela Nachón García was born on November 30, 1966, the daughter of Carlos de Jesús Nachón Aguirre and Mercedes del Carmen García Villegas - to whom at another time I will be able to offer the applause that she should have-, the sixth of seven children, and without eagerness to annoy my uncles and aunts, who I know read to me from time to time, my mom is my favorite of the seven. Raised according to the moment, my mother is an elegant, educated and eloquent woman. Gorgeous and bright, within Catholicism, growing totally in kindness and love.

Although in her roots there is an inclination towards conservative and elegant silence, my mother has been the spark that ignites in me the flame and the desire to scream. She is the greatest example of strength and struggle, not only against oppressive systems but against the air that squeezes our chests. Gaby Nachón developed her life in health studies. Licensed as a Dental Surgeon, Master in Clinical Research, and Doctor in Health Sciences. Currently director of the Institute of Health Sciences of the Universidad Veracruzana. Recently inclined towards reflection on the role of women in science.

My mother just shared that same insight at a conference organized by the Gender Equity Network of the Health Sciences Unit of the same university, and some of her words stuck with me: “It is not a fight between men and women, nor is it about seeing who knows more, let us remember that man began the sciences many centuries before women, and while men have walked throughout history, women have had to run."

27

When I first started dabbling in feminism, there was a certain air of fear around the dinner table. I suppose that even living in an extremely full of -thankfully- privileges, there was an aura of fear and discontent towards the movement that sounded violent. My mom stopped to listen to me every time I explained that it is not necessarily aggressive, but that we are upset. That our own stories have made us angry women, and that elegant, conservative silence was no longer an option. And still, elegantly my mom has shouted by my side.

Dr. Gabriela Nachón has taught me to run since long before I was born. She has run all her life, and has not gotten tired for a second,even carrying me and my siblings on her shoulders. My mom has fought battles that I could never imagine, much less know if I could cope with the brilliance that she has. A cancer survivor with a baby in her arms, cancer worth mentioning, attacks only women. Researcher in Health Sciences academies in fields and unions mostly led by men, minimized in work for being a woman.

My mom and my uncles tell me the anecdote that she was serious since she was a girl, even scolding everyone to a certain extent. In my childhood, I called her Miss Trunchbull for being the villain of my intrepid adventures. Hepatocyte, they called her for making courage from the depths of her liver. Precious mommy, your courageous liver is to be applauded, let's keep running hand in hand.

Honor to whom honor is due.

28

Honor to

AMANIRENA rossanna huerta

Honor to Queen Amanirena! Honor to the Nubian Queen of the Kingdom of Kush who lived between 40 B.C. and 10 B.C. Honor to the queen who maintained a strong military leadership against the Roman army.

Let's start with a bit of context, the Nubian Kingdom was also known as Ta-Seti or Land of the Bows, this is because the members of this kingdom were noted for their skillful use of the bow. However, these activities were not limited to male members of the community but to anyone who displayed skill with the bow. This allowed women to thrive in an area that was male-dominated for the time period, which led to great women warriors and queens.

One of them, was Amarinera, the Queen who conquered the Romans.

29

The Queen ruled in the land between the Nile and the Atbara and was known as the Queen Mother. At this time the Roman Emperor Caesar Augustus was forming the empire that we would know as the great Rome. He had already conquered Egypt but needed to continue expanding his political and economic power. One of these crusades that he carried out was in the kingdom of Nubi. The Queen received news about the soon arrival of the Romans so she had to devise a strategy efficient enough for her to keep the intruders away from her land. Considering that Kush was much smaller than the Roman Empire, she managed to drive the Romans away with a surprise attack. With an army of 30,000 Nubian soldiers armed with swords, bows, and arrows they managed to fight against the Romans.

Her continuous attacks were highly successful, capturing three major Roman cities. As a declaration of their victory, their fighters defaced many statues of Emperor Augustus. Due to these acts, Rome retaliated by sending more troops to Kush. The Romans destroyed their ancient capital and sold thousands into slavery. The Romans claimed victory for defeating Kush, but Amanirena quickly and repeatedly counterattacked. The battles between the Kush Kingdom and Rome continued. During one of them, Queen Amanirena was blinded in one eye by a Roman soldier, once her wound healed she returned to lead her army in several more fights against the Romans. After three years of battle, a peace treaty was signed where Emperor Caesar Augustus agreed to lead his army out of Egypt, return the Nubians their land, and cancel all taxes. The Kingdom of Nubia survived for another 400 years.

Let us honor Queen Amanirena!

Let's honor her leadership and her strength!

Let us honor her conquest of the Roman Empire!

Museo Nacional de Kenya (2019/2020) Queen Amanirenas: The Story of the White Nile Nubi Archess.

Google Arts & Culture. https://artsandculture.google.com/story/GwXRN3WTK_YEJA?hl=es

30

8M

8 Marzo 2022 CDMX Melissa Sánch

8 Marzo 2022, CDMX. Sofía R. Noba

8 Marzo 2022, CDMX. Sofía R. Noba

MX. Sofía R. Noba 8 Marzo 2022, CD

8 Marzo 2022, CDMX. Sofía R. Noba

8 Marzo 2022 CDMX Melissa Sánchez

8 Marzo 2022, CDMX, Kat HB 8 Marzo 2022, Tijuana, Nissa Chávez

8 Marzo 2022 CDMX, Kat HB

8 Marzo 2022 CDMX, Kat HB 8 M a rz o 2022

, Tijuana, E

lia Figueroa

8 Marzo 2022, Tijuana, Nissa Chávez 8 Marzo 2022, Tijuana, Elia Figueroa

8 Marzo 2022, Puebla, Diana Cabrera

8 Marzo 2022, Puebla.

8 Marzo 2022, Puebla.

8 Marzo 2022, Puebla, Diana Cabrera

8 Marzo 2022, Puebla.

8 Marzo 2022, Puebla.

8 Marzo 2022, Veracruz.

8 Marzo 2022, Veracruz, Katy Campos, a.k.a papa creativa

8 Marzo 2022, Veracruz, Katy Campos, a.k.a papa creativa

, Katy Campos, 8 Marzo 2022, Veracruz a.k.a papa creativa

8 Marzo 2022, Veracruz.

8 Marzo 2022, Xalapa. Susana Fuentes 8 Marzo 2021, Xalapa. Paulina Uranga

es pa, Susana Fuent 8 Marzo 2022, Xala 8 Marzo 2022, Xalapa, Susana Fuentes

8 Marzo 2021, Xalapa. Paulina Uranga 8 Marzo 2022, Xalapa, Susana Fuentes

8 Marzo 2021, Xalapa. Paulina Uranga

How it feels The experience I had in my first march was incredible!

I was very moved to see that all the women came together for the same cause and that the support of all was felt.

At one point along the route, near a monument on the avenue, there were all the parents with cardboard that had photos of their daughters whom they had raped and killed. For them and for all those who have been abused

Melissa Sánchez CDMX @melysoo

we march, so that it does not happen again, so that tomorrow it will not be my sister, my mother or someone I know.

About Kat HB Photographer with 5 years of experience, a specialist in concerts.

A young woman of firm convictions and love of observation. Her street photo reveals the characters that are the most alive and daily part of the city. She has also made live coverage, sports, and social photos.

Heartbroken, Kat joins the contingent, witnessing the pain, fury, and love of her fellow women. Through her lens, she portrays the cries of the feminist struggle that takes place every day, at all times and in all places.

CDMX @fluorescent_space

This 8M was totally different for me. The first time that I marched was in 2021 and I had to go by car because the Covid-19 cases were very high, so it was the first time I walked alongside so many women. I felt very sad because days before I had had a conversation about the march with some friends and I realized how much their privilege has clouded them in the face of the situation we women live in Mexico, but I still went out to march for them. The truth is that I had a lot of mixed emotions since days before the march. I think this is something that happens to many women because it was a day with a huge emotional weight.

On the way to the march I was very scared because I had heard that there were threats against us. For security reasons, some of us who were with me (including me) had to put our personal information on our arm, our full name, two emergency numbers and our blood type because in protests like these things can change in a matter of seconds and it is overwhelming to think that something can happen to us, but we always have to be alert.

In the group that I was in initially we were 5 women, but once the march began, 3 more joined us. Among the 8 women who were with us there were students, graduates, teachers, mothers, successful women, with different interests but with the same objective of defending women's rights and being the voice of those who are no longer with us. Among those who accompanied me was one of my best friends named Elia, whom I admire very much and I want to thank her because she has greatly influenced my growth as a feminist and has motivated me to continue raising my voice.

The march began at 3:20 pm at the Scissors Monument in Zona Rio, we went to the Abraham Lincoln monument and returned to the Scissors Monument. Fortunately, it was a very peaceful march, days before it was reported that Baja California Human Rights workers would be at the march to prevent the police from assaulting the women. During the march I saw women of all ages, there were mothers breastfeeding babies, children, adolescents, young adults and senior citizens. There were different activities, we were shouting feminist slogans, jumping, some of us were painting graffiti, many of us used our voice through posters; it is very hard to read the posters of mothers looking for their daughters and relatives of victims of femicide.

There was a point while I was marching that I stopped to analyze where I was, surrounded by so many women I realized that the fear I felt when I arrived at the march had disappeared and I had not even realized it. I was very happy to realize that this year there were many more women marching than last year.

I marched because every 15 seconds a woman is assaulted somewhere in the world, because I live in one of the most dangerous cities in the world, because I have a sister, mother and friends. We must continue marching for the generations to come, for all the women who are no longer here and to have more sorority.

There is still much to achieve until we no longer have to fight.

Nissa Chávez Tijuana @nissa.chavezz

Most women in Mexico have experienced the ravages of patriarchy. Women are at a disadvantage and a step behind. This is a Mexican woman who lives in Tijuana, Baja California. The city where there are high rates of human trafficking, missing women, at least 22 femicides in the first months of the year, the highest number of homes with orphaned children in the entire Mexican Republic.

Believe me, I know my context and I predispose beforehand the privilege in which I find myself.

8M is a day with a very big emotional weight. A week before, I organized a group of 8 women (including myself) to go to the march and we were all confirmed to attend. In the group were a business school director, a lawyer, an artist, an engineering student, a marketer, five of them my friends.

The last two women are my sister, a housewife and her daughter, a high school student. Finally there was me, a beekeeper and business degree holder. An interesting mix of profiles in one group.

That invitation was made a week in advance and I was preparing to receive them at my house. Along the way I felt a little sad because on 8M my mother was leaving the city and we were not going to spend the whole day together. But also, during the week I felt happy for the women who were going to participate in the march.

Also, I thought and questioned myself about my participation in the march: what is my intention to participate in the march? Will many women go? Is the SARS COVID pandemic an impediment? What do I want to communicate in the march? All these questions had a quick answer because I know my role in the feminist movement. To be the voice of women who are not there, for those women whose rapists and abusers go unpunished, to contribute to the fight against patriarchy by participating in spaces that women do not occupy due to machismo and to achieve a better space for the next generations of free women.

This group of women and I were following the @womesnonfire page on Instagram, and there we followed the contingent. We were with Vulva la Revolución, a radical antispeciesist collective, and with Voces Feministas UABC, a radical feminist university collective. This is my third feminist march, the woman who prompted me to participate in the march was my teacher and mentor Lorena S. who invited me. I started my way to investigate feminism in the university, I was accompanied by my teacher and my best friend Sofía A. At the 8M march at 3 pm I experienced anger and at the same time a deep sadness when I saw the posters with the faces of victims of femicide that mothers, sisters, friends, aunts and cousins were holding. I also experienced a rush of feminine energy, I felt safe walking the streets, this is definitely what sorority feels like. And no, I'm not saying that we should all like and love each other, but the main thing is respect for the other person. I was very proud of my 17 year old niece who joined and was interested in the movement; it made me feel like I was doing a good job guiding her. I was also very happy that my sister entrusted me with her daughter for the first two hours of the march.

The activities that took place during the march were the creation of posters, songs, a march of about 5km, a Mexican flag with the women's petitions, dances, music and poetry reading. At the end of the march we went to dinner and had a catharsis of the march.

Undoubtedly the fight continues and I will continue because it is our fight.

Elia Figueroa Tijuana @eliafigueroa

8M is always an emotionally very strong day, in the march there are always many emotions. Being happy to go out with your sisters, but sad because you think of those who are no longer there and listening to the testimonies and stories of the others; angry at the helplessness you feel for not being able to help everyone, indignant, frustrated. But you also feel the empathy of everyone there, you feel safe, with your group, you feel that you are not alone, admiration for the strength of all, pride of being part of something bigger, in short it is something very strong.

I have been participating in different feminist marches and movements since 2019 and it is impressive how much they have grown and how much support we now have compared to before. It's so nice to see so many sisters coming together to raise their voices for those who can't anymore, and for all the others.

I went with my friends, but at the beginning I was joined by a friend who was going alone.

She told me that it was her first time marching and I told her that she could join us, it was very nice since it was the first time something like this had happened to me. She was with us all the way, and I am glad that we were able to help her feel safer. My friends in college were the first ones who taught me about feminism and marches. To this day I still march alongside them.

The contingent began to advance from the scissors traffic circle towards Cuauhtémoc Boulevard. We were walking and shouting the usual phrases. Hundreds of women were seen with signs expressing themselves in different ways. At the beginning of the graffiti it was a very strong feeling, in previous occasions there were some who tried to stop them, but now it was not like that. The sisters shouted in support, saying that it was all of us, the girls from the black bloc made sure that no one got hurt. Not once did the police intervene, as had been seen on previous occasions.

Throughout the rest of the march we continued to feel this power, the strength of women united. In unison we shouted, we jumped, we demanded. This sorority was felt even more when at one point a girl was lost, silence was requested and we were all asked to sit on the floor until she was found. It was impressive to see so many people listen so quickly, when she was found we all celebrated and shouted. It is undoubtedly a very strong experience that empowers you a lot. It is important to continue marching, demanding and doing what is necessary so that there is justice

and we never miss another one.

Alexa Cordova Tijuana @alexa_orly

M.I. Flores Nachón

Women

I wrote this text once the magazine was already laid out. Caring little about Fernanda's corrections, and sending it raw.

Since 2020, when Catártica began, Honor to Whom Honor is due is a traditional section in March, and to be honest we always seek to shed light on the names that are in the background. I found it curious that to a certain extent the section itself could be quite elitist. We focus on women artists, producers, etc. But I want to pour myself into my own words and give honor to those who deserve it.

When I first started hearing about feminism, it seemed aggressive and to some extent useless. I couldn't be more wrong. Just opening my eyes and listening well would have helped me understand, however, I had to become a feminist with my own story. It had to hurt to understand the annoyance and anger. Feminism revived in me, what someone else killed. My story is similar to that of many other women, we live with the keys tangled between our fingers and we walk with the alarm under our finger, we sleep with our eyes open and shoes on our feet just in case we have to run.

We deserve honor and respect. And today I especially want to honor those who have yelled, the handful of names I have in mind, brave, courageous, and angry. Beautiful, bright, and kind. To the women that every day is an 8M. I have never protested during 8M. Most times I have wanted to do so, and it burns me to stay seated, I simply have not been able to. I've cried out of anger just because I'm not by their side, screaming and painting names. I have screamed from my letters and I have wanted to burn everything from my desk. I'm sorry, I'm really sorry for not being brave as you guys. But I honor you because you've given voices to those who had it taken away, to those of us whose hearts are broken and half-healed, to whom silence has been an ally.

Woman with hair, a woman without hair, woman in skirt, woman in pants, bleeding and non-bleeding woman, woman with children and woman without children, woman with courage and woman with fear, silent woman and screaming woman, woman. Woman.

Woman.

I want to especially thank and pay tribute to the women who shared with us evidence of their participation in the 8M dynamics around Mexico.

Antonella Guagnelli Diana Cabrera Emma Zamudio Elia Figueroa

Katia Campos Kat HB Melissa Sánchez Nissa Chavez

Paulina Uranga Sofía R. Noba Susana Fuentes

f you are interested in participating in the magazine, you should take into account the following guidelines:

srohtua rof snoitcurtsnI

All manuscripts or works must be sent to the official Catártica mail, with their corresponding translation into English or Spanish.

All papers received will be submitted for review by the members of Catártica for their selection and publication.

If the editor deems it pertinent, he may make changes and corrections in the writing and style of the manuscripts.

The file must follow the following format: Microsoft Word Arial font Font size in twelve points The upper and lower margins should be 2.5 centimeters and the left and right must be 3 centimeters.

The line spacing should be 1.5 The images and illustrations must be cited in APA format and in addition to sending them in the file, attach them in JPG, PNG or PDF format

@catarticarevista catarticarevista@outlook.com catarticarevista@gmail.com

Magazine Director María Inés Flores Nachón @notae_stethicallypleasing maines_flores@live.com

Vice-director and Cover design Antonella Guagnelli Cuspinera @antonella_gc antonella.guagnelli@gmail.com

Head Editor Fernanda Loutfe Orozco @ferorozco ferlorozco@hotmail.com

Editorial Design Junuen Caballero Soto @junuencaballero junuen.caballero@gmail.com

Artist Scouting Rossanna Huerta Romero @itsrosehro rossanahur@gmail.com

Social Media Antonella Guagnelli Cuspinera @antonella_gc antonella.guagnelli@gmail.com

Diana Carolina Gomez Ortiz @dcgo98 diana.gomezoz@udlap.mx

Emma Patricia Zamudio Salas @emma.zamudio.92 emma.zamudioss@udlap.mx

Artists and writers Antonella Guagnelli Diana Cabrera Emma Zamudio Elia Figueroa Fernanda Alejandra García Katia Campos Kat HB Melissa Sánchez Nissa Chavez Paulina Uranga Rossanna Huerta Sofía R. Noba Susana Fuentes Victor Rivera