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 colonialist-racist agendas.

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 life!

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 and flowers.

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 Europeans.

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 Revolution”.

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 beauty!

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 my life.

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 microscope! Enough!!!!

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, alive!

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, asesinos, fuera!”

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 racist habit.

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 we wear!

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 Anahuac!

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 of nature.

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 is buried.

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 planet.”

“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 final exit.

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 will always
be a mutiny full of auroras,/ the heroic flower of
successive dawns.”

Before I was powder you said:

“Friend, sister of the people, great daughter
of Mexico: you are still alive...You live on.”

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 to live.”

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.