His mother was a victim of femicide. Now her aunt is raising her

() — Six years ago, Greta Rico’s cousin, Fernanda, was found dead in a garbage bag on a street in Mexico.

He had been shot three times and there were signs of sexual violence.

As her family waited for more answers—which they never got—there was one especially pressing problem: Who would take care of Fernanda’s 3-year-old daughter, Nicole?

Nicole’s father was absent. Her maternal grandmother had died five years earlier.

Her aunt Siomara, a single woman who at 27 never expected to be a mother, stepped up and took responsibility for her niece.

Siomara brushes Nicole’s hair before taking her to kindergarten.

“She never wanted to be a mom, and she was actually very emphatic about it,” she said. Rich, a photojournalist who has documented Siomara’s story in a project she calls Surrogate Mother. “And then because of what happened, when she decided to take care of Nicole, it was very, very difficult for her. I would venture to say that it is still difficult. But they love each other very much and already have a natural mother-daughter dynamic.”

Rico’s photos illustrate what life has been like for Siomara and Nicole in recent years, with its ups and downs, and she wants to raise awareness about femicide, the most extreme form of gender-based violence that is defined as the “intentional killing of women for being women.”

Most countries, including the United States, do not distinguish femicides from other homicides. Mexico is one of at least 16 countries that do so. But women’s rights groups in the country have said that very few murders are classified as femicides and that not enough perpetrators are brought to justice.

Fernanda’s death was never investigated, Rico said, and was not classified as a femicide despite evidence of sexual violence.

Fernanda lies in her coffin during her funeral in 2017. “Victims (of femicide) have the right to be remembered with compassion and dignity,” said photographer Greta Rico, Fernanda’s cousin.

Nicole says goodbye to Siomara after dropping her off at the boarding school she attends. Goodbyes are always long and difficult.

“Many women here in my country, for some years now, have felt that the authorities simply do not care about our lives, they simply do not care about what happens to us,” Rico commented.

She would like to see her government do more to help orphans of femicide and their caregivers, who she says are almost always women in her country: sisters, aunts, grandmothers.

“There are no public policies to support these women,” Rico said. “There is not even a legal term to call these caregivers. And there is no help for those children.”

A view from the roof of a house where Siomara and Nicole lived in Naucalpan, Mexico, in 2021.

Since Fernanda died, Siomara and Nicole have moved nine times. Rico said it hasn’t been easy for Siomara to hold down a job that allows her the flexibility she needs to care for Nicole.

“She is a girl who has a trauma, who needs a lot of care, who needs a lot of psychological support,” Rico said. “And this has been difficult for my cousin because she often needs to ask permission from her work, perhaps to change the schedule or perhaps not go from time to time. What always ends up happening is that she gets fired from her. She has changed jobs a lot since she started it all.

Siomara now works in sales at a mall and has been able to hold the job for a year, which is the longest she has been employed since her sister’s death.

Siomara cleans the mirror in her bedroom. Sometimes she can feel overwhelmed. “On days like this, the only thing that gives me peace of mind is cleaning and tidying up my room,” she said. “Being a mother was never in my plans.”

What has been a big help is Nicole’s recent enrollment in a special boarding school that was set up for girls who come from vulnerable situations. She now lives there five days a week and receives the education and psychological support she needs. She has also given him more stability.

“She doesn’t move from school over and over again, and she doesn’t change friends over and over again,” Rico said. “She Now she has many good friends. In fact, they will sleep together in the same room. They already have a routine. They care a lot about each other; There is also a strong bond between them. They are like a family.”

Siomara will pick Nicole up on Fridays and they will spend weekends together, as well as holidays and vacations.

Siomara takes Nicole to the boarding school where she now lives five days a week.

“Sometimes I don’t want her to stay in school, but I’m alone with this and it’s the only way I can keep working,” she said.

Before her sister died, Siomara had plans to continue her studies, perhaps travel abroad. Those plans were put on hold.

Being a mom has been a struggle at times, she told her cousin.

Siomara comforts Nicole during a tantrum. “Since her mother was killed, Nicole has had bouts of anxiety as emotions she can’t understand run through her,” Rico said.

Fernanda’s death was never investigated, Rico said, and was not classified as a femicide despite evidence of sexual violence.

“There are days when I feel like I can’t,” Siomara said. “It hurts me a lot to have my dreams (left) aside. But when I think about (Nicole), I realize that she needs me.”

Siomara and Nicole were close before Fernanda’s death. When Siomara was younger, she was the “cool girl”, she would take Nicole to the movies and spoil her with toys.

Now they are not only like mother and daughter, according to Rico, but they are also best friends.

Siomara and Nicole laugh and play in an ice cream parlor.

“It’s been very, very beautiful to be around them, to see them grow stronger together,” she said. “One of the things that has been interesting to me is that I have seen that they created a very strong relationship of trust. There’s no way something is going to happen to Nicole and she won’t tell my cousin. She tells him everything all the time.”

In his photographic project, Rico wants to show the hard situations that the two have gone through, but also the moments of joy. He says that Nicole, who is now 9 years old, is a fun and smart girl.

“If you ask her, ‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’ She’ll say, ‘I want to be an astronaut,'” Rico said. “She is now obsessed with space. We bought her as a cardboard spaceship last Christmas and she is obsessed with playing with her spaceship.”

Left: Siomara comforts Nicole and Emiliano, one of her nephews, during her sister Fernanda’s funeral in 2017. / Right: Last Christmas, Nicole received a cardboard spaceship and portable rocket wings. She says that she wants to be an astronaut when she grows up.

They have encouraged Nicole to follow her heart, wherever it leads. Her love of dinosaurs recently made Rico and Siomara realize how problematic gender roles can be in their country.

“To give you an idea of ​​what Mexican society is, in the children’s section you can only find dinosaur things, like clothes or toys,” said Rico. “You will never, ever see pink dinosaur pajamas in the girls’ section. This is not an option here. If we take her shopping, we just tell her to choose what she wants. It does not matter the section where you choose it”.

Nicole knows that her mother died, but not that she was killed. Rico said they will have that conversation on time and are working with experts at his school to find the best way to do it.

Since she was 3 years old, Nicole has suffered episodes of anxiety that can trigger atopic dermatitis, a skin condition characterized by chronic itching. When that happens, Siomara smears her with different ointments and creams after the bath to soothe her itching.

“The reality is that she does know that something happened, because everything was very strange and very fast, and many things happened and were said, especially at the time of the funeral,” said Rico.

Within a few months of the funeral, Nicole began calling Siomara “Mom,” and she still does today. Siomara never told him to call her that; it just happened.

But Siomara wants to make it clear that Fernanda—and the circumstances surrounding her tragic death—are never forgotten.

“I want people to know that although I love her very much and will always take care of her, I am not her mother,” Siomara said. “I am her aunt and I had to become her mother because my sister was killed.”

Siomara picks up her nephew Emiliano so he can say goodbye during Fernanda’s funeral.

Rico said that too often in her country, people romanticize the sacrifices these caregivers make and forget to try to solve the problem of femicide or help caregivers deal with the consequences.

“A lot of people think that because these kids are with someone who really loves and cares for them, that’s going to be the solution,” she said. “And the reality is that it is super difficult. Although my cousin loves Nicole very much and was very supportive of her, she did not have the necessary tools to help a girl with trauma. She didn’t have the tools to face the brutal situation that someone killed her sister, and she didn’t have the tools to face her own pain.”

Siomara decided to cut Nicole’s hair. “I think it’s better if Nico has short hair,” she said. “That way he looks like a boy and I feel like he’s at less risk when I’m not with her.”

Nicole looks out the window of the house they were living in at the time in Ecatepec, Mexico. That day in 2021, Siomara told him: “We moved again.” It was the eighth time they had moved.

Rico says more is needed, from the government and the community, to help women like Siomara.

“The reality is that they are doing this job and they face these situations alone,” he says.

Siomara and Nicole attend a demonstration in 2019 on the International Day for the Elimination of Violence against Women.