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Inspired by walking in pink dress Mexican Folk art with a mermaid-style silhouette, drag artist Angel Arumir adjusted her flower crown over her purple wig as she stepped into a sea of skeletons.
All around her, thousands of people in vibrant costumes and skull-like makeup gather for Mexico City’s annual Katrina Parade, a tribute to one of the most iconic symbols of Mexico’s Day of the Dead.
The holiday begins on October 31 to remember those killed in accidents. It continues on November 1 to remember those who died in childhood and then on November 2 to celebrate those who died as adults.
Katrina is a skeleton often dressed in beautiful clothes that has become a symbol of the country’s annual celebration. But Arumir’s group, Exoticas, is putting its own twist on the Mexican tradition.
Exoticus, made up of approximately 200 LGBTQ+ artists, stylists and designers, was one of more than 40 groups marching in this year’s parade.
“This day is an opportunity for us to showcase our art and our hearts with dignity,” said Arumir, 42, who has spent nearly two decades performing in drag. “It has become difficult to gain a place in events related to our traditions.”
Other groups represent a wide range of social issues, each adding their own rhythm, color and message to the streets. These include mothers demanding justice for Mexico’s missing, groups honoring pre-Hispanic traditions, and fans ready to celebrate their favorite musical genres.
For Arumir and her fellow artists, the festival provides a rare moment of safety and solidarity in a country where LGBTQ+ people, and transgender women in particular, face high levels of violence.
More than 80 gay people were murdered in Mexico last year, the second highest number in Latin America. Caribbean only to Colombia For this community, according to Sin Violencia LGTBQ+, a regional network that tracks such violence.
Mexican activist Jair Martínez, part of the network, said transgender women were responsible for 55 of those deaths. He said discrimination against them has increased over the past five years as they have become more visible. “Before, many of these women worked in clandestine locations,” said Martínez. “Now they’ve got more public exposure and that may explain why we’ve seen more violence towards them.”
Preparing for the parade is a year-long labor of love. Between job and family responsibilities, Arumir and his team create designs, sew costumes and experiment with makeup, showcasing their passion for drag and Mexican symbols in every detail.
Each dress is unique, with vibrant colors and designs created for the occasion. Some costumes send powerful messages. One artist, Rich Gonzalez, traveled from Tijuana to participate, wearing a costume that honors members of the LGBTQ+ community who have long been killed by cartel violence in the northern Mexican city. Dressed in black and adorned with colorful crosses cascading down the trailing train of a skeletal figure, Gonzalez wore it proudly among the friends he made when he marched for the first time last year.
Among the marchers was 18-year-old Santiago Mercado, who was participating for the first time.
“This is a chance to celebrate our culture in a place where we can keep fighting for our rights,” he said.
The Katrina Parade is a relatively new tradition. It started in 2014, when makeup artist Jessica Esquivias gathered friends to celebrate the Mexican icon and push back against the growing popularity of Halloween imagery on store shelves.
What started as a small group of creators showcasing their art has grown into one of Mexico City’s largest pre-Day of the Dead events, drawing thousands of participants and spectators across the city.
Katrina was born out of satire more than a century ago. The tall skeleton in the feathered hat first appeared in the early 1900s, created by artist José Guadalupe Posada to mock Mexico’s upper class and its obsession with European elegance, a reminder that death spares no one, rich or poor.
Today, Katarina’s spirit of defiance finds new meaning in Arumir’s work. “I want Exoticas to be an inclusive place where anyone can join and live in freedom and safety,” he said.
As the parade rolls through town Mexico CityArumir and his group dance to traditional Latino pop songs while people crowd the sidewalks, holding up their phones and smiling at them.