Returning to the Root to Heal
-Slash and Burn-
This is a story of fire, memory, and rebirth. It begins in silence a silence that has echoed through the women of my family for generations. A silence that broke the day I learned my mother had been sexually abused by a close relative. That revelation shattered the fragile architecture of memory, reshaping my understanding of her life, my lineage, and myself. It forced me to ask: How do we remember? How do we heal? How do we live after violence?
In Latin America, these questions are not just personal they are collective. In 2024 alone, Costa Rica’s public health system reported 11,265 women as victims of violence. The most affected group: girls and teens aged 10 to 19, with 758 cases per 100,000 inhabitants. They are followed by girls under 10 (438 per 100,000) and women over 65 (410 per 100,000). These numbers tell a brutal truth: across all stages of life, the female body is systematically violated.
My project emerges from this reality, blending personal history with artistic exploration to confront the legacy of sexual violence passed down through my maternal line, including my own story. Through natural elements, textures, and ancestral symbols, I search for healing not only for myself but for the women who came before me and those who will come after.
As I enter motherhood, I feel an urgent need to break this cycle. I turn to the forest, to the elements fire, earth, water, air. The horse brings healing. The snake sheds its skin. Fire burns and transforms. The tree dies and is reborn, its strength drawn from unseen roots. The scorpion, guardian of transformation, becomes a symbol of protection and inner power.
This project is an act of resistance. It is our collective voice saying: we were hurt, but we are still here. By voicing our pain, we resist the silence. We refuse to be defined by it. These stories are not confessions they are declarations of existence.
Healing, I’ve learned, is not forgetting. It is remembering differently. It is watching a forest regrow after a burn. It is seeing my daughter like a golden sprout pushing through ash. My grandmothers survived the pain. Now it is my turn to be reborn burying grief so it may decompose and nourish something new.
