NO! NO!NO! They got it all
wrong, those treasonous, racist, vendidas
and vendidos. They have it all WRONG! Those
Vendidos think that just because I am dead
that they can do whatever the hell they wanted
with me? They have much to learn about who
I was. First of all, that I hated sell-outs,
vendidos, like you!
I am Frida Kahlo talking to you, the one and
only. I am Frida Kahlo. I am not that fake
Frida that vendidos manipulate to fit their
Since my death I have been transformed into
this empty personality that had nothing significant
to say, nothing Indigenous to represent, and
nothing to contribute to “Mexicanismo”,
“Indigenismo”, and to the concept
of an Anahuac nation. I am simply portrayed
as a “victim“, merely “a
cripple“, a wife who lived “in
her husband’s shadow“, a “Hispanic”
painter , a “Latina” role model,
and the simplistic label of “a Marxist”.
I was more than just a Marxist. I was never
a Latina or a Hispana! I was always Mexican!
The really meaningful things in my life are
obscured by selective racist and feminist
sexist research. I have a big problem with
your selections. What aspect of my Mexican-ness
do you not understand? What on earth is wrong
with you?!!! Are you blind! Lost! Confused!
The time has come to stop all of this nonsense!
Everyday when I woke up I made damn sure to
look beautifully Indigenous, Nican Tlaca (that‘s
the way you say Indigenous in Nahuatl, make
sure to remember that). I was Nican Tlaca
in the way I did my hair, the Tehuana clothes
that I wore, my jewelry, my paintings, my
Don’t forget my house, my blue Coyoacan
house, where I was born, which later Diego
and I decorated to be the most Mexican of
Mexican houses. Our Mexican house. We had
Nican Tlaca sculptures everywhere! We built
a small Temple in our yard to hold some of
them. My house always had the scent of “sweet
xocolatl [chocolate] of ancient Mexico”.
What I knew, and studied, of our history I
incorporated into my paintings. That is why
you see Nican Tlaca hairless dogs, Nican Tlaca
plants, Nican Tlaca women, Nican Tlaca monkeys,
Nican Tlaca sculptures, our rabbit on the
moon, even Coatlicue and me, the proud Mexican.
Proudly Mexican, wearing my embroidered Tehuana
blouses, my Nican Tlaca necklaces, turquoise
rings, and my braided hair connected like
our ancestors above my head with bright ribbons
I did my best to contribute to the liberation
of my people by joining the only movement
in my time that offered a philosophy through
which we would be able to fight the Euro-centricity
that was desecrating our Mexico. I joined
the Communist Party.
“I wish to cooperate with the Revolution
in transforming the world into a classless
one so that we can attain a better rhythm
for the oppressed classes....Although I’m
not a worker, but a craftswoman and an unconditional
ally of the Communist Revolutionary Movement....I
am only a cell in the complex revolutionary
mechanism of the peoples for peace.“
I wanted to change this colonized Mexico into
a free Mexico! “Always Revolutionary
never dead, never useless.”
Don’t let my political ideology blind
you from the core of my being. Before I was
a Marxist, I was Mexican. Mexican was my life.
My political ideology was Marxism, it was
what I practiced as a Mexican. Back in my
day, many Mexicans turned to Marxism because
it gave us a plan of action with which to
fight colonialism and capitalism. At that
time Marxism was perfect, or as near-perfect
as we could find, to ending the oppression
of Mexican people. Marxism gave us inspiration
and hope! It was the only option available
to us at the time. The studies of our Anahuac
heritage were still in their early stages.
The option of an Anahuac heritage approach
to our problems was just beginning to blossom.
If that option would have been fully developed,
it would have been the full focus of my life.
As a Marxist, I was able to organize and confront
the economic racism that was attacking us.
Marxism was the tool that I used to fight
injustice and oppression on our land. Marxism
was my tool against the Vendidos and racist
Much of the historical information you have
available to you today, we didn’t have
in my days! Even though we did not have all
the answers we knew that something was very
wrong with the direction that our nation was
walking. This direction was taking us toward
the destruction of our Nican Tlaca history,
our heritage, and our land! We were being
led to cultural and ethnic suicide, and many
Mexicans willingly followed, but there were
those of us who refused. We didn’t want
to contribute to our own destruction, we wanted
liberation! Reconstruction of our nation!
An end to colonization! I came to a point
where I wanted my paintings to reflect the
Mexican insurrection against European controlled
Mexico, that which is called the “Mexican
Painting was the way I expressed my Mexican
pride and political views. Painting was the
tool to challenge racism and oppression.
Although sometimes when I was sick I couldn’
t do everything I wanted to do, I did my best.
“I have to fight with all my strength
to contribute the few positive things my health
allows me to the revolution. The only true
reason to live for.”
Yes, I was sick, but I was still willing to
fight for my people!
I was given birth by a very beautiful Oaxacan
woman and by my Mexican land. I was not given
birth or identity by Karl Marx! I respect
Karl Marx, but he does not define who I am.
The actions of my life define who I am.
Our people that are Marxists today
don’t even care about their people.
They say that they are just human beings,
that they don’t have a nation! Pinches
Cabrones, we have a Nation! A beautiful nation!Can’t
you see that we have been denied our nation,
and our identity and heritage.
Our nation has been stolen from us for almost
500 years! Diego and I understood that we
were Mexican! I hate it when you vendidos-fools
focus purely on my involvement with Communism,
without any mention of my Mexican pride, my
love of my Mexican heritage. Your treason
instantly shoves me into the category of a
“Generic Human Being”. That is
insulting! It is racist!
I wanted our children of Mexico to liberate
us out of this slavery and to destroy the
European hell that we live in. I wanted our
children to learn the value of their heritage
and to embrace their true history and identity!
As a teacher, I encouraged my students to
love their heritage and people, to look into
our Nican Tlaca art for inspiration and true
I took my students on trips to see our beautiful
Teotihuacan and walk upon what remains of
our Nican Tlaca architecture: The Pyramids
of the Sun and of the Moon, the grandiose
remains of one of the many cities that once
blossomed in Anahuac like flowers. They reflect
our great history! This Anahuac heritage is
who we are! This is who I was. But no, you
don’t see this. You intentionally blind
yourself from this core and root of who I
was. My Mexican-ness is all invisible to you.
I am also used as a Feminist icon. There was
far more to me than just being a woman. The
fact of being a woman is not sufficient to
be considered a role model, especially when
you belong to a group of people who have been
colonized for almost 500 years. I had a duty
to all of my people.
What I did was for all of my people not just
women. Mexicans are men and women, both components
and heirs of our great civilization: Anahuac.
Both are colonized and enslaved to Europeans!
Together we must fight for our liberation!
Many people say that I “lived in Diego’s
shadow” and that I was “his victim”.
Please! Give me a break, you really did not
understand the relationship that he and I
had. Stop making a pinche love story and novela
out of my life! I was a victim of European
colonialism and a victim of Gringo exploitation
along with the millions of my people, not
the victim of a beautiful Mexican nationalist!
You exaggerate my personal feelings and my
love life. You make a pinche love story out
of my relationship with Diego and are more
concerned about how many lovers I had, how
many arguments Diego and I had, stupid things!
What about researching the amount of times
I attended rallies, how many petitions I gathered,
how many times I yelled, VIVA MEXICO! How
often I screamed VIVA ZAPATA!
In my life, I was quite aware of all the gossip
that you fed off of. I confronted you when
I wrote the essay on Diego: “Some people
probably expect me to paint a very personal,
‘feminine‘, anecdotal, entertaining
portrait of Diego, filled with complaints
and even a certain amount of gossip-those
‘decent’ bits of gossip able to
be interpreted and used according the sickliness
of the readers. Perhaps they may expect to
hear complaints from me about ‘how much
I’m suffering’ by living with
a man like Diego...Within my dark and difficult
role by being allied to an extraordinary human-being...I
will not be one to devalue the fantastic personality
of Diego, whom I deeply respect, by saying
stupid things about his life.”
Leave me alone, you sickly readers!!!! Go
dissect a damn gusano not me!!!!! I have had
enough! It does not surprise me that you ignore
these lines! That you do not quote them in
your biographies of my life! I spoke this
way to those that were disrespecting me when
I was alive and I also dedicate those words
to you, who today spit on me, piss on me,
on my people, on my Mexican pride, by giving
more importance to the irrelevant things in
Another sick thing that you do is to look
through my medical records! How many operations?
What type of medicine did I take? How much
of it did I take? Stop it. It reopens my wounds!
How disrespectful and morbid of you!!! You
are dissecting my body! Viewing me under a
Don’t you know that my injuries and
surgeries only limited me from spending more
time and more effort at organizing, participating
in the struggle for justice and liberation
from the Gringos in Mexico, and the ones on
our occupied land called “Gringolandia”?
Almost every biography on me zooms into my
surgeries, my suffering and my pain. Yes,
I went through pain but I didn’t let
it get in the way of fighting the crap that
was happening on my land. Can’t you
see my face of victory in every painting.
I stare into your eyes, determined, victorious,
On July 2, 1954, while recuperating from the
sickness of bronchopneumonia, I ignored the
doctors orders to stay home resting. I threw
on some warm clothing, wrapped my head with
my wrinkled scarf and climbed onto my wheelchair!
I couldn’t stay home while our Nican
Tlaca people were being massacred in Guatemala,
as the genocide against our people continued.
I gathered my things, got on my wheelchair
and joined the 10,000 demonstrators that were
protesting the fall of the government in Guatemala,
instigated by the pinche Gringos. Holding
my peace dove placard on one hand high in
the air and my other hand a clenched fist.
I joined the chant “Gringos,
With Diego pushing my wheelchair we marched!
Look at what I did even though I was sick:
I still participated in the protest against
those cruel Gringos! There were healthy Mexicans
that were cowards and never did anything!
What was their excuse?
What you should zoom into is how much we as
a people have suffered due to the European
invasion and colonization of our land. The
social pain. The pain that racism has brought.
Zoom into the blood that flowed from our bodies
when the Spaniards killed us in the millions!
The genocide of 23 million, 95% of us killed
by the pinche Spaniards!
Zoom into the pain of colonization. Zoom into
our ignorance. When our people are ashamed
of our identity and heritage, and do whatever
they can to look like Europeans!
I painted Mexican things everywhere so that
when my people looked at my paintings they
could see pride in being Mexican.
If I were alive today, I would definitely
not be posing for a LATINA magazine, let alone
a HISPANIC biography. I would be burning them.
Those terms did not even exist in my time.
They do not define me. I defined myself as
Mexican. I am not Roman! I am not a pinche
Española! Not a Spaniard! Don’t
insult me or inflict with your own self-hate
and ignorance! If you want to hate yourself
do it alone and don’t incorporate proud
Mexicans like myself into your masochistic
I did not leave a legacy of my identity as
a mystery! I made it very damn clear who I
was and what I wanted to be remembered as!
I knew who my people were and the condition
my people were in and still are in.
“Among those great multitudes... there
will always be the faces of my own-Mexicans-with
dark skin and beautiful form, (Mexicans...are
subjugated for now by capitalist countries...”
Subjugated to Europeans!
In a time of hate towards our Nican Tlaca
past, I embraced my roots without compromise.
I wanted to show Mexico its skeleton, its
blood, its reality. I did this to peel the
layers of lies and to rip off the European
influence from us permanently. I did it to
rip off the masks of those happy slaves that
When I walked in those days on the streets
of my land I was reminded of my people, of
our ancestry, and our future.
MEXICANS WAKE UP! Look at our beauty!
I did not care what people ignorantly thought
of my Nican Tlaca way of dress and living.
The only thing that I cared about was making
sure that the world respected my land and
my people! I wanted to reveal our art and
our real history to the world! Look! Stop
powdering your face to look pale, to look
like “raw biscuits”, stop hiding
from our sun afraid of your skin becoming
darker, stop bleaching your black hair blond!
Stop trying to be white, we are still Mexican!,
the people we were 500 years ago! We’re
still on our land, we’re still eating
our foods, we are still the great people of
Don’t let the scars of the rape on our
race trick you. We have to stop being the
ignorant slaves, the self-hating people that
we are today!
I was born in Coyoacan, Mexico (Not Spain
or Italy) on July 6, 1907. Later in life,
I claimed that I was born in the year 1910
to connect myself to the year the “Mexican
Revolution” erupted. Who wouldn’t
want to be connected to a revolt against foreign
exploitation of their people! To the year
that Zapata rode on his horse demanding tierra
y libertad (land and liberty!) Our hero!
My mother Matilde Calderon was a beautiful
Nican Tlaca woman from Oaxaca. She was a “dark-skinned
Oaxacan bell-flower”, one of the many
flowers that has been uprooted and made to
feel inferior by the pale ugly Gringos!
My father Guillermo Kahlo, a Hungarian Jew,
married my mother and together had four girls.
I was the third. He was the one that taught
me how to use a paint brush, the art of my
life! “He was the best example for me
of tenderness and workmanship (also a photographer
and painter) but above all of understanding
for all my problems...”
He attended to my interest in art and literature!
He took care of me when I was sick. He would
lend me his books and shared with me his curiosity
When I was older he shared his interest in
Mexican archaeology and art. According to
him, I was his most intelligent daughter.
Thanks to him, I was exposed to the history
and beauty of our Mexican art at a much earlier
age than my cuates!
For an education, I attended a school that
was politically active and involved heavily
with the activities of the post-revolution
era. In 1922, my father enrolled me into the
National Preparatory School. This was a high
school who’s students were treated as
college students. My school was located in
Mexico City, where our Mexica capital Tenochtitlan
I traveled an hour daily to attend school
from Coyoacan. The slogan of the school “love,
order, progress” reflected the philosophy
of the VENDIDO founders! To them progress
meant to become “WHITE” and backwardness
was associated with all things Nican Tlaca,
Indigenous. It was founded under the direction
of the Cientificos who loved Euro-centric
models and ideas and who aggressively incorporated
them into every Mexican institution. The European
wannabe’s built this school with hate
for our people and love for the gringos. Our
Nican Tlaca culture was abhorred and our Nican
Tlaca people despised. It was a time of imitation
and self-hate. A time when Europeans walked
onto our lands ready to exploit the lands
our self-hating people willingly offered at
the expense of our working people.
A great example of self-hate could be seen
in Porfirio Diaz, who powdered his bronze
skin to hide his Mixtec features. Who did
he think he was fooling? After the fall of
Porfirio, change soon followed. A time when
Diego Rivera was decolonizing the walls of
Mexico with Nican Tlaca paintings, when we
were being told to take pride in our land
and our culture, a time of seeking a new direction.
A time that came and soon left. It left because
our Anahuac is back to imitation of the gringo
and of the Europeans! Our Anahuac is back
on its knees!
When I enrolled, I was 1 of only 35 girls
in a school of 2,000. There were philosophy,
literature, journalism, and art groups. I
didn’t really care for those. I quickly
associated myself with the Cachuchas, nicknamed
for the caps they wore. The Cachuchas were
popular for their intelligence and mischief.
We were a group composed of 7 boys and 2 girls.
We named it by what our ancestors named our
land: Anahuac! We constructed it from the
ashes of the Revolution! I would often ride
the trolleys to the heart Mexico City just
to attend rallies and meetings. It was in
that school that I met Diego Rivera, when
he was commissioned by Jose Vasconcelos to
paint a mural at the Bolivar Amphitheatre.
Later, I married Diego Rivera, the Mexican
art liberator! I accompanied him to “Gringolandia”
on his commissions to paint murals that showed
those Gringos true art, Mexican art. “Gringolandia”
is disgusting, it is not at all what they
paint it to be.
“It is terrifying to see the rich having
parties day and night while thousands and
thousands of people are dying of hunger...I
find that Americans completely lack sensibility...”
I could not stand the hypocrisy and greed
of those disgusting “Americans.”
I gathered my paints, picked up my brush and
painted “America” how it really
is; up in smoke choking on its own poison
on the land they have stolen from us! Next
to that, I painted my land with sculptures
of our ancestors, flowers, and life!
Just in case you have not yet heard of our
museum, I will remind you. Our Anahuacalli,
‘the house of Anahuac’, a temple-museum
built just for our collection of the beautiful
sculptures and art that came out of our land.
It was a museum that would hold the bits and
pieces that are left of our civilization.
We constructed it from gray volcanic rock
located at the Pedregal of Coyoacan.
Even though we eventually found ourselves
in an economic hardship we proceeded. This
had to be done! To us this was a historical
building, filled with the Nican Tlaca sculptures
that have not yet been stolen! It was so important
to us at the time that I wrote to the government
asking them to help us finance the archeological
museum. I proposed that the museum should
be the property of Mexico. Anahaucalli “would
be the pride of the present civilization”,
the pride of all Mexicans! This is a step
towards the Mexico that our ancestors independently
developed and that was violently replaced
with the sick European culture.
We wanted to bring our Mexico back. Bring
back the art, bring back our architecture,
bring back our pride! Anahaucalli stands “sober
and elegant, strong and refined, ancient and
perennial; from its entrails of volcanic rock
it cries out with voices of centuries and
days: Mexico is alive! Like Coatlicue, it
contains life and death, like the magnificent
terrain on which it is built, it embraces
the earth with the firmness of a living permanent
“Mexico” is today approached as
a dead thing by many people. Some take pride
in the Nican Tlaca (Indigenous) past but are
not willing to build for a Nican Tlaca future.
Mexico is alive because we are alive! This
is what I lived for. This Mexico is the essence
of my existence. It was in my art. It was
in my house. It was in my heart.
I have been stolen from my people. I am manipulated
to fit stupid, racist, treasonous agendas.
It infuriates me to see my image under bold
letters LATINA, beneath a RED STAR, FEMINIST,
MUJER stamped on my forehead! What the hell
is wrong with you!
I want to be under bold letters that read
MEXICAN, bold letters that read LIBERATION!
After all that I did, all you can do is to
spit on me by categorizing me as Latina, Feminist,
Marxist, Cripple? I give you an “F”
on your research! “F” for fainthearted
and fraudulent! ”F” for false.
I did not dress Nican Tlaca, paint Nican Tlaca
, just to look pretty, to decorate my home.
I was not doing it as a fashion statement!
There was a reason for all of it, I was saying:
Look world, the beauty that we posses as Mexicans!
I wanted to wear my identity, my Anahuac.
Look at our History! Look at our present,
our enslaved present! I wanted to change that!
To make it free and Mexican. A free Anahuac!
If you really appreciated me you would respect
my life and present it as I really lived it:
As a Mexican! You would honor me by honoring
our Anahuac history! Our ancestors! Instead
of seeing me as another artist you would see
me as a Mexican who did her best to change
our people’s enslaved condition! Instead
of seeing me as another novela, you would
see me as a hero! But you don’t!
You refuse to study me for who I really was!
“Mexican people”, I scream at
the top of my lungs! “Scream with me...The
Mexican Revolution continues!”
It continues because you my people are enslaved!
Rebel against this colonialism! Against this
genocide! You were enslaved when I was alive
and now that I am dead, you are still enslaved!
You hate who you are, you hate anything that
is Nican Tlaca! You’ve been sadistically
taught to hate yourself and your people! Don’t!
You are cheating yourself out of true pride
and true dignity. Embrace your Mexican-ness!
Learn your true Anahuac Heritage!
This is our land MEXICANS!
Throw away your dress, shoes, put on some
huaraches, throw on a huipil, be who you are!
To those of you that feed off gossip, don’t
you dare look to me as your next exploitation!
Watch a Novela if you want drama! Leave me
alone you sickly readers! Stupid opportunists!
I lived the life of a MEXICAN. Don’t
be so stupid and idiotic! What I did, I did
for my people! If only I could come back and
tell you to your face! Vendidos !Vendidas!
To all you chismosos that want to change,
all you have to do is leave your personal
agenda in your own autobiography. Look, without
agendas, at my actions, read my writings,
see my paintings! You spit on me when you
ignore my Mexican pride.
Many of you choose to ignore what I made out
to be obvious. I am not an empty character
that can just be filled up and stuffed with
whatever you want to label me as, to fit your
own opportunist agendas. You want me to reflect
your self-hate and ignorance. I am a self-defined
Mexican by my words, my actions, and my art.
VIVA MEXICO! LONG LIVE ANAHUAC! Yes, “long
live” because it is being killed daily!
You are killing everything that is Nican Tlaca.
You are killing those of us that tried to
bring pride to our people! One death is enough
for me! Let me live in my people, as a Mexican!
Let me live in my history! In the pride of
my people! Come on Mexicans, 500 years is
enough! I was not alone in aggressively reclaiming
our Mexican heritage! There were many others
besides Diego Rivera,there was Siqueiros,
Dr. Atl, Nahui Olin, the list is endless.
They all told me to tell you : GET UP OFF
YOUR KNEES MEXICANS!
I wrote, “I hope the exit is joyful-
and I hope never to come back.”
Well I have come back, but only to defend
the honor of my Mexican people.
On July 13,1954 the doors of life were closing
and pulmonary embolism walked me through the
In my coffin I was rested, as a Mexican. My
hair was done up in the rainbow-ribbons style
of our ancestors, flowers braided into my
silky purple ribbons. I was wearing my favorite
huipil from Yalalag; my white loose huipil
with a lavendar silk tassel, the one I wore
when I painted my self-portrait with Dr. Farrill.
I was wearing my beautiful black Tehuana skirt.
Around my neck rested jade, coral, and silver.
At my feet laid an array of red flowers. This
exit was colorful, full of beautiful life
and beautiful death, full of Nican Tlaca beauty.
As I rested there you sang my favorite Mexican
corridos of the Revolution.
Before I became ashes you read to me:
“You will always be alive on the earth,/you
be a mutiny full of auroras,/ the heroic flower
Before I was powder you said:
“Friend, sister of the people, great
of Mexico: you are still alive...You live
I didn’t want to rot in a coffin so
I was cremated. Within four hours I became
ashes. Amidst my ashes I was still alive!
“I’m not afraid of death, but
I still want to live. I’m still eager
Although I no longer walk amongst you, I am
with you. I continue to remind you of our
beautiful Anahuac heritage with my art. My
paintings pierce your mind awakening your
imagination and challenging you to kill your
self-hate. Tehuana dresses now dress my home.
My paintbrushes now paint my presence, they
speak for me, scream for me: Que viva Mexico!
I leave you my Mexican paintings as a sign
of my endless Mexican pride. I leave you the
life of a proud Mexican, so that you may follow
in my footsteps, so that you will keep walking
with me as proud Mexicans.Be Mexican! Be proud!
Let me live in our history. Let me live in
full courage and full knowledge of our beautiful
Anahuac heritage. Let me live in Tenochtitlan
as Diego painted me, amidst the scent of our
Mexican chocolate, and the backdrop of our
beautiful Anahuac civilization.
Let me live in you, Mexican!
Que viva Mexico! Que viva Zapata! Que viva
la vida! La vida Mexicana! The Mexican pride.
My people, run out on our streets and scream
as I once did “Gringos, asesinos, fuera!,
Gringos, assasins, out!” Rebel “against
everything that chains you.”
These are the words of my actions, my paintings,
and my life.