【by Orly Perez】1
In case I go missing, burn everything. Burn it because I would never leave without saying
goodbye.
In case I go missing, don’t let me become just another number, another statistic. Look for
me.
In case I go missing, know that I fought. That I screamed and kicked and scratched. That I
tried with every inch of my body to stay.
In case I go missing, read this, again and again, until the words stop making sense. Read this until
my story gets tattooed in your mind. Read this by yourself, read it out loud, just read it. Read it
because as long as someone remembers me, I will not be completely gone.
Mami, promise me you will not let this break you. Someone already took me, but they don’t
deserve to take you as well. I always looked up to you, so use this and become someone everyone
looks up to now. Promise me you will try to find me, but that you won’t let it consume you. Don’t
give them that satisfaction.
Ma, don’t believe what they say. People will blame me. They will say I was looking for it.
That I was out at night, that I was drinking. That I trusted someone I shouldn’t have. That my outfit
was too revealing, that it was a dangerous place. That I was messing with the wrong people. I
promise you I took all the precautions I could, but here in Mexico, that doesn’t matter. It might
have been outside my school in broad daylight, like 7-year-old Fatima Aldrighethti2. Or walking
down my street, as Ingrid Escamilla3. Or in my boyfriend’s car, like Ana Cristina4. It might have
been by someone I know, someone we know.
Pa, promise me you will not blame yourself. You taught me how to fight, how to be strong,
independent. Ever since I was younger, you have always said that if a man was overstepping, I
should just grab, squeeze, and twist. I wish life was that simple. I know you will say you should
have protected me more, but you couldn’t have. No one could.
Papi, I never told you everything that I went through as a woman walking down the streets
of what we call home. It’s not because I don’t trust you, believe me, I trust you with my life. It’s
because I knew you would never understand, even if you wanted to, even if you tried. You have
never experienced being catcalled or honked at. You have never held your breath while walking
past a group of guys in the street. You have never felt men looking at you as if you are nothing
more than an object. It’s okay, I have learned how to live like this. I had learned how to live like
this.
Morro, my little brother, promise me you won’t pretend that you are okay. You forget that I know
you more than I know myself. You will be there for Mom and Dad, you will act strong, but I know
the grief will be eating you inside out. If I could have said goodbye to only one person, it would
have been you. The little boy who became an only child overnight.
Promise me you will grow up to be the man I know you have the potential to be. That you
will stand up, not only for your girlfriends, but for every woman that needs you. That you will
walk them home and make sure they get there safely.
There’s a phrase that goes: todas tenemos una amiga que sufrió abusos, pero ninguno tiene
un amigo abusador. No dan las cuentas. Promise me you won’t stay silent if you know something,
that you won’t become that friend who is a quiet accomplice. Promise me to be the man I needed,
not the man who took me.
Niñas, my best friends, promise me you will get up and fight so that I’m the last one they take.
Make noise, enough noise so that my case will be taken seriously, so that I make it to the news
channel, so that everyone knows my name, my story. Don’t leave it all to the police, we all know
they are useless. Or maybe, like with Victoria Esperanza Salazar Arriaza5 , they were the ones
behind it. Try to find justice for me, try to make my case one of the 2% that manages to go to the
court. I would say be careful, but we all know how worthless that piece of advice is.
Can I ask you a favor? Hug my parents, hug them so tight they forget about me just for one
second. No one should lose their child. And when you get back home, hug your parents. You never
know when it might be the last time you do so, and I would give anything to hug mine one last
time.
To every one of the 90,000 women who went to the protest in Mexico City’s Zocalo Nacional in
2023, promise me you will say my name next time. I couldn’t be prouder of what you have
accomplished year after year. Of the color purple coming in from every corner6, of the traces you
leave everywhere you go, of the women you are. Remind my parents they are not alone, walk with
them en el contingente de los padres de las desaparecidas, help them carry my picture.
For a few hours, you will walk through the streets of Mexico surrounded only by your
sisters. You will feel empowered, safe, at home. You will feel anger, impotence, frustration. You
will feel everything and nothing. So cry my story, cry our story.
Scream for all the women of Mexico. Scream for the ones who did not make it home.
Scream for the 5.4 million girls and teenagers who are sexually abused each year. Scream for the
99.7% of the sexual violence cases that are never reported. Scream because 6 out of 10 rape cases
happen inside the place they called home. Scream because 60% of the sexual violence cases are
perpetrated by a family member or someone close to them. Scream for the 3,500 women who are
victims of feminicidios each year. Scream until you lose your voice, till you’re out of breath,
because if you don’t do it, no one will.
In case I go missing, there is a really big chance you will never find my body. You will never find
the body that was abandoned in a ditch, or the side of the road, or on a pile in a mass grave. Still,
bury me. Give me a grave, a tombstone, a place for you to cry. But make sure it’s not empty. Look
through my things, through my stuffed animals, find the one I used to sleep with when I was
younger, the one we never figured out if it was a duck or a bear, bury that instead.
If you never find my body, it’s because I might not be dead, but it will be easier to think I
am. Easier than imagining my new reality. What I was turned to. Nothing more than an object, to
play with, to have fun with, to enjoy.
If you do find my body, don’t look at it. Don’t look at the body that was touched, or abused,
or raped, or mutilated, or burned, or bruised, or cut, or exposed, or all of the above. Clean it, purify
it, and bury what’s left of it. But please don’t look. That will no longer be my body.
When you think of me, I don’t want you to picture the aftermath of what happened. I want
you to think of me as the girl who was always smiling. The little girl who couldn’t go to sleep
without her dad’s kiss, who would never leave for school without hugging her mom, who would
go on endless car rides with her little brother just because. Not the girl whose life was taken. Not
the girl who will never come back home.
In case I go missing, remember what it is to be a woman. The fear. The frustration. The
powerlessness.
In case I go missing, remember I was someone’s daughter, sister, friend. We all are. We
all were.
In case I go missing, promise me you will find a way to keep living. Promise me you will
keep fighting, keep surviving.
Because in case I go missing, you might be next.
Not resting, not in peace, never yours,
– Just another name on the list.
- Femicidio refers to the murder of a woman because of her gender. Feminicidio emphasizes the role of the state in enabling these crimes and the impunity with which they are treated ↩︎
- Fatima Aldreghetti ↩︎
- Ingrid Escamilla ↩︎
- Ana Cristina ↩︎
- Victoria Esperanza Salazar Arriaza ↩︎
- The color purple has become a symbol of the feminist struggle for equality and justice. Every year on March 8th, women in Mexico take to the streets to protest about the injustice and mistreatment we face. As the official color, it is common for protesters to wear of carry something purple, such as clothing, signs, or makeup. ↩︎