Rebirth

“Día de Muertos,” Gina, who uses they/them pronouns, exclaims as they pull out an embroidery hoop. In the center of the hoop is a half-stitched red heart, framed by layers of gold string. Sequins catch rays of light that dance along the rim. 

Día de Muertos, or Day of the Dead, commemorates the departed and welcomes the return of their spirits, according to the Smithsonian. Although rooted in Mexican and Central American cultures, Día de Muertos has become widely celebrated by Latinos in the U.S.

Gina, who came to the U.S. as an asylum-seeker in 2022, used to stitch in Ecuador, their home country. But now, Gina’s passion for art lives in Philadelphia—teaching art therapy classes to newly-arrived children. 

“In my place of origin, I was arrested, not only for my sexuality, but I was also a victim of sexual violence,” Gina says. 

In 2023, the U.S. Department of State identified sexual violence as a “significant human rights issue” in Ecuador. No laws explicitly criminalize “corrective rape” of LGBTQI+ individuals.

On the morning of November 7, 2022, Gina boarded a plane from Ecuador to Nicaragua. It was a Sunday—which meant Gina could leave unnoticed. “My flight was at 2:00 a.m.,” they explain. The oldest of three children, they didn’t tell their brother, sister, or mother. 

From Nicaragua, Gina made the next leg of the journey to Mexico by walking and hitch-hiking with other immigrants. “I only have $20 in my pocket,” Gina says.

“I came to the United States in December 2022,” they explain. Once at the border in Texas, detention center staff took Gina’s fingerprints to run them through what officials told Gina was a criminal check. Staff separated groups by gender; Gina was detained with the rest of the women. 

“Two weeks,” Gina says as they struggle to remember how long they were detained for. Keeping track of time in the detention center is a near impossible task. “It’s so difficult because all the lights are on all the time,” Gina explains. “All the time you feel cold.”

Gina says that they were given food twice a day, in the mornings and evenings. “We were eating only apples, or water, or chips—a little box of chips—nothing more,” they say.

Eventually, Gina says they were transported from the detention center to a community-based organization in Texas. They had no information about the next leg of the trip. “I don’t really have family here,” Gina says. “I don’t have a plan when I crossed the border.”

The only U.S.-based contact Gina had was a man in Queens, New York. He was older than Gina but had studied at Gina’s alma mater, University of La Rioja. At every juncture of the journey, he would send Gina incessant messages: “Are you coming?,” “Are you on your way?,” Gina recalls.

It was in the community-based organization that Gina heard of a bus going to Philadelphia. “I think, you know, ‘Wow, this is really next to New York and I can walk,’” Gina says.

“There was definitely a feeling in Texas that they wanted us out of there.”

The bus that Gina ultimately boarded was part of Texas Governor Greg Abbott’s Transportation Program. The program has bussed over 3,400 migrants to Philadelphia since November 2022, according to the Governor’s Office. 

It took three days for the bus to reach Philadelphia. During the ride, Gina explains the man sitting next to them was pushed against them, and later began touching Gina. Gina felt powerless to speak up. 

Stops for food were not allowed either. “We don’t have time to eat food,” Gina recalls. “I had a really bad experience.”

Once in Philadelphia, Gina was received by local non-profits. Philadelphia’s churches also stepped in, says Manuel Portillo, Director of Community Engagement at The Welcoming Center. “They partner with public health to try to provide support to these people that come in buses,” he says. “Those were the people—the grassroots organizations—that really did the work.”

“They gave us food, clothing, and a place to spend the night,” Gina says. 

But even after Gina began to settle in Philadelphia, the man from Queens continued to send Gina messages: “Get to New York. Get to New York. You’re not here yet.” He wanted Gina to perform sexual favors for him. 

Gina decided to trick him. “I have Covid, I can’t do contact with anybody,” Gina recalls texting the man. His messages stopped. 

Messages from Ecuador, however, continue. “It’s really hard because the people who hurt me, they want to find me,” Gina explains. 

Gina receives text messages from their friends in Ecuador: “The father of Gina, dead,” the messages read. Gina knows it’s a lie—a calculated attempt to get Gina to return to Ecuador. 

But returning to Ecuador isn’t an option for Gina. “I miss my mom,” they say. “Sometimes I text my mom and say, ‘Hi mom, I’m fine.’ But my mom doesn’t know who I work on, who I am. She only knows I’m here in the United States.”

“I’m really lucky living here in Philly,” Gina says. “I don’t have family here but I have many friends, my community, and they support me.” 

“They believe in me and my talents,” Gina says as they tuck the embroidery hoop for Día de Muertos into their backpack. 

“I’m wearing La Catrina,” a tall skeleton figure that has become a symbol of Día de Muertos, Gina explains as they hold up their phone. Her screen displays an Instagram account that reads, “lacalacaflaphilly.” 

Lacalaca Philly, which organizes Philadelphia’s Day of the Dead celebrations, was first spearheaded by a Mexican immigrant merchant, says Magda Martinez, Chief Operating Office of the Welcoming Center. 

“First year we did it, we had $300,” she says. “Now they get over 1,500 people every year.”

“In every community, there’s what I call a bridge person—a person who somehow bridges their community with multiple communities,” Martinez says. For Martinez, the bridge person was the merchant who brought Spanish-speaking communities together to celebrate rebirth through Día de Muertos.  

Now, Gina bridges communities through their work at Juntos—which translates to “together” in English—one of the non-profits Portillo says was instrumental in supporting the immigrants who were bussed to Philadelphia. “I’m collaborating with different organizations, making mural arts,” Gina says. 

“I’m still afraid that the people who hurt me will find me,” Gina says. “But I also really want to live, and now I have my community—and they need me.” 

“That motivates me to get up every morning and fight for what I believe in.”

Sources: 

Gina, Juntos Ambassador Magda Martinez, Chief Operating Office, The Welcoming Center Manuel Portillo, Director of Community Engagement, The Welcoming Center  https://latino.si.edu/learn/teaching-and-learning-resources/day-dead-resources https://gov.texas.gov/news/post/texas-cracks-down-on-violent-venezuelan-gang-tren-de-aragua  https://www.state.gov/reports/2023-country-reports-on-human-rights-practices/ecuador/