During a recent artist residency in Mexico, I realized how omnipresent the feminicide problem has been in that country. Investigating further, I observed that these atrocities are spread worldwide, and that the killing of girls and women has been systematically going on for decades, including in my own country, Canada, where over 4000 aboriginal women have either disappeared or been found assassinated. Of those 4000, only 1186 have been declared as such, and many have not yet been identified.

Reflecting upon all those bodies of women thrown into and dumped in lakes, rivers, forests, roads, as mere garbage, as though they are insignificant human beings, I came to the idea to work with corn leaves. From North to South, corn remains the fruit of our ancestral land, long before being called an American land, with the arrival of the first colonizers, over 500 years ago.

Me and my sisters—these girls, these women who disappear and have been found murdered, are also corn daughters. To remember these women, I decided to use corn leaves to build myself a sort of a sack, in reference to the [thrown] missing bodies.

In Querétaro, Mexico, I weaved the leaves together using white, red, and green cotton thread, referring to the colors of both Canadian and Mexican flags. On my right arm, through my skin is tattooed this sentence: “¿ dónde están où sont-elles onde eles estao where are they ?” First using the four languages of the Americas, this sentence will later be translated in as many indigenous languages as possible through encounters starting in Quebec, then wherever the project leads me through the Americas, without any order necessary for the same power of meaning.