Roundabout – Garden of Memory

They have created a Garden of Memory in the heart of Paseo de la Reforma, where roses and bushes bloom, where the memory of murdered, raped, disappeared, acid-attacked women flourishes, where the names of murdered mothers, journalists, human rights defenders inspire sadness and admiration. . On Saturday they planted purple flowers next to the pink cross installed in September, a year after the transformation of an empty pedestal into a symbol of struggle. The sowers of beauty and memory are mothers deprived of their daughters and sons, women in search of justice and truth in a country permeated with blood, before deaf and blind governments that intend to continue administering violence until the end of time, before public ministries and criminal judges in their negligence, before a society so damaged by poverty, exploitation, violence and corruption that it seems -or is- indifferent to its causes.

They are Lorena, Fátima’s mother, whose son has been killed, Antelma Vargas, Ingrid’s mother, who seeks accompaniment because she no longer trusts the authorities who, three years later, continue without doing justice. It is María Herrera, with four disappeared children, who since 2008 has sought to know the truth; It is defenders and survivors who claim their right to preserve the Glorieta de las Mujeres que Luchan, a place of memory and “recognition”, where all the victims of sexist, institutional, criminal, official violence unite their voices against governments that seek to disunite their movements, where they meet and support each other, where they claim, demand justice and respect for their cause, one and the same: that of Justice.

With a calm voice and a dignity that imposes and moves, they ask the head of government “please” to respect the Glorieta, not to try to impose a figure that is alien to them (the young woman from Amajac): “a woman of privilege”, born “in a golden cradle”, which has nothing to do with the flesh and blood indigenous women whose canvases express why they fight: “For a planet free of violence (harassment, harassment, abuse) towards minors”, “For the security of women, so that there are no more kidnappings and femicides”, “For the right of indigenous peoples and the security of women”. With a clear and sure voice, with their quiet and firm presence, these women claim their right to the city: “the city belongs to everyone”, they affirm. Not from those who appropriate springs and build luxury housing, suffocating them (as in Aztecas 215), from the corporations whose buildings stand proud in Reforma.

They affirm, against those who have set themselves up as spokespersons (even incarnation) of the people -whom they do not listen to- that the people “are not stupid.” They know, and state it, that campaign politicians promise everything… and once in power they don’t deliver. They know from experience. How many times have the mothers of the disappeared requested an audience with the president? You never have time, they say. Instead, he can visit the mother of a criminal. She hurt and outraged.

With determination, they affirm their right to preserve this (anti) monument, with its purple figure that from the pedestal cries out for Justice, with its posters that name after name narrate the history of State crimes, criminal and sexist violence: Tlatelolco, the halconazo, Ayotzinapa, femicide, disappearance; with other posters that tell the story of women who have fought and are fighting for a country where girls and boys can grow up without fear, where women and girls live without fear.

If instead of wallowing in imaginary achievements, repeating empty speeches, and inventing a courtly “town”, the head of government listened to these women, perhaps she would understand that a site of memory chosen and cared for by those who have survived the monstrosity of the loss and violence deserves only respect. In them lives the dignity of this city and this country, ours.