“The Night I Learned to Fly” is the latest in a series of paintings that answer the question, “How did I survive?”
By enduring unspeakable terror early in life, I learned to dissociate so well and so easily I could enjoy a lovely flight over the city while he raped me.
I don’t know where my mother went, but I suppose she was with a man somewhere else in or on that building. We were in Mexico City, had been out at the bar, drinking, and met these guys. I was 15. I never told anybody because my mother made it clear I was responsible for my abuse. My mother passed on to me what her mother made clear to her.
Fortunately, I learned to fly.