Looking at the mirror, I see a figure of a woman, the shape, the flesh. What is inside? To look is to take action; I fight. Through the self-destruction of what was constructed by the outside without consent, I master myself, and rebuild the image that I choose, within me. Repeatedly, daily; as an exercise of existence. Then, I embroider the proof that I was there to remember that I'm alive and that my body represents life and death, peace and war, pain and love. All the leftovers are proof (video, paintings, objects) to never forget what is happening inside me while I question myself: What does it take to be a woman?

The gender subject got bold after I lived enough to see that the struggle and the fear surrounding the female world isn't restricted to a geopolitical location, but instead is global. 

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