This Is Why I’m Here

To conceptualize the transitory nature of borders, one must be familiar with the evolving journey of space, time, circumstance and identity. Gloria Anzaldua once categorized the U.S. Mexican Border as an open wound, “…where the Third World grates against the first and bleeds. And before a scab forms, it hemorrhages again. The lifeblood of two worlds merging to form a third country — a border culture.”

Having grown up on the border region of Juarez, Mexico, and El Paso, Texas, Ada Trillo’s most recent exhibition, La Caravana Del Diablo, has documented a raw culture of its own. Fixated on the journey itself, Trillo’s work documenting the large-scale migrant caravan from Honduras to the United States in 2020 reveals the hardships, triumphs and real-world consequences of immigration policy that have been conveniently hidden by artifice. 

Photographer Ada Trillo captures the humanity of border and the journey it takes to get there. Photo courtesy of Ada Trillo

Winner of the 2020 Marty Forscher Fellowship awarded for a humanistic approach to documentary photography, Trillo’s work has increasingly gained international acclaim. Honors for La Caravana Del Diablo include awards from The Guardian Feature Portfolio Review, the Tokyo International Foto Awards, and the PX3 Prix de la Photographie Paris. A conduit for the unheard stories of Central American migrants, Trillo’s latest exhibition embodies a growing movement of Latinos reclaiming misrepresented narratives that cast migrants as misguided castaways led astray and placed on the backburner of human rights agendas. 

Often portrayed through a one-dimensional lens that shrinks migrants’ narratives down to their proximity to political wedge issues, the real-life stories of modern migrants are vastly more complex through the eyes of Trillo. By living with the caravan and becoming a member of their community, Trillo’s work is a striking infusion of reality and movement where the stakes reach fatal levels. In La Caravana Del Diablo, Trillo controls the lens. The story she is telling asks you to consider the journey of Central American migrants. In their moments of victory, wonder, despair and longing, it’s hard to look away.

Congratulations on your latest exhibition at the Museum of Social Justice in Los Angeles as well as the numerous awards your work has won. La Caravana del Diablo captures such an intense and volatile moment in time. How do you stay present in environments when the stakes of the group are high? 

We have to stay present for two reasons. The survival of all of us depends on staying as a group and working as a community. That’s the major thing. We are taught in the West that people should be individualistic, but studies have shown that when you work collectively as a community, everyone grows better. For me, it’s very important that, if I’m part of that community, I’m present everywhere. I’m present when there are threats and when there is peace. 

How have you felt seeing your work displayed for a much wider audience now that your most recent exhibition has gained more traction? Do you think the lifespan of the photos from La Caravana Del Diablo evolves differently in changing contexts that they’re displayed in?

It depends on how they’re curated. I’ll do the photographs, but I’m not a curator. So, it really depends on how the museum curates the exhibition and brings context to what’s going on now. The photographs are done in black and white for many reasons, but one of them is so that it’s clear that they are recording a time in history. It’s archival and important—not just news. 

I don’t like the word subject. It’s hierarchical. I like to think of them as protagonists.

I’ve read that you admire Mary Ellen Mark’s photography. Looking through your photography, you feature children as your subjects in a similar nature to Mark’s. Do you think migrant youth have a unique story to be told? 

I don’t like the word subject. It’s hierarchical. I like to think of them as protagonists. They’re the protagonists of the story that needs to be told. I think migrant children are the future, not only of the U.S., but also of the countries where they left. Many don’t make it to the U.S. Many stay in Mexico and make their lives in Mexico. They’re bringing good things to those countries. Those children then become teenagers who become adults. I’ve met several children that I’ve met as teenagers and now they’re older. It’s interesting to see how their lives have developed.

What has it been like seeing them grow over time? 

I have two children, two girls. It’s very emotional because it’s that same feeling of being connected and being invested. It’s good, but when they make mistakes, you also have to tell them. At least I’ll call them out. There are friendships that have been built because we’ve walked so many miles together. When you walk, there’s no TV. There’s no Netflix. There’s nothing. So you talk, and you share and get to know the person. Through social media, such as Facebook Messenger or WhatsApp, you can continue those conversations. You can continue to figure out where they are now. For me, that’s super important.

Carlos. Photo by Ada Trillo

That makes me think of other contemporary films and literature that focus on migration narratives. A lot of the most popular stories are interested in migrant youth. I think that was an interesting and compelling pattern to note in your work, too. 

I also document a lot of single mothers, and that’s because I’m a single mother. There’s the connection of raising children on your own. It’s even more difficult leaving your country. 

Along with working in black and white in your photographs, was there anything else you were conscious of, or more aware of, when you were trying to accurately capture the caravan through your photography? Do you find yourself contemplating the techniques you would use to document this?

No, because things happen so fast. There’s always movement. You have to know what you’re doing and know the camera settings because you have to change them constantly depending on the sun. If it’s nighttime, you have to alter the settings. I use the flash. I don’t use a tripod because it’s so heavy. I can’t weigh myself down. It’s very organic. I’m talking to the people, getting to know them. If I see a good angle, I shoot it.

Banda Crossing the River. Photo by Ada Trillo

As your work focuses on the inclusionary and exclusionary aspects of borders, did traveling with migrants from Central America further develop the existing ideas you had about migration, having grown up on the U.S. Mexican border? Or, did it shift something about your perception?

Growing up in Juarez, you see that they’ve already arrived and they’re safe. They made it to the border. What I want to document as a part of my work is the journey—how far and difficult it is, and that many don’t make it. I rode the migrant caravan train La Bestia, and on the train, many lost an arm, a leg, or their lives. You have to honor that journey. Many come here and are treated very poorly, and they shouldn’t be. It brings them more dignity when you honor their effort. I wasn’t aware of how difficult the journey is and I think that many people are not. You have to really travel it and rough it. That means not staying in a hotel or thinking that you’ll shoot and then stay somewhere else. No, really understand what the journey is so that you can have a conversation about it. 

The Trump Administration’s derogatory remarks and rhetoric about Latino immigrants served as a starting point for your documentation of Central American migrants. Is there something about the dominating narrative of Central American migrants in the U.S. that Americans are still largely missing? 

When he was starting to run, people didn’t even think he would get the nomination. That’s the troubling thing. It’s that he won. The country is that divided. There is a huge misconception of who Latinos are and who immigrants are. The wall is the stupidest thing ever. There are tunnels! I’m from the border; people will find a way. That’s just a monument of hate. That’s what’s worrisome. There is so much hate and misinformation. 

The Wall. Photo by Ada Trillo

To this day, we’re still facing repercussions of the Trump Administration’s degradation of immigrants, especially for so many marginalized populations. 

And hate is not going to take us anywhere. The United States is so amazing because it’s a land of immigrants, but there seems to be disconnect and division about how this country was built and the inclusion that we’ve made since World War II, through other countries and communities. The only ones that really belong on this land are Native Americans. Everyone else has been an immigrant, just at different times.

You capture your subjects in a way that displays a full range of human emotions that include desperation, fear, hope, happiness and longing. Central American narratives are often depicted through a narrow lens in mainstream media that exploits their trauma while obscuring their moments of joy. Was it important for you to capture your protagonists’ successes as defined by them? 

I’m not going to take some “Save the Children” photos. I’m not asking for donations or none of that. I’m asking for awareness and dignity, which is very important. It’s important that people understand that this is the journey and these are the feelings because then you create empathy. Above all, I won’t take pictures that will not bring dignity to a person. Poverty and dignity aren’t opposite things. You can be impoverished, but you do have dignity. That needs to be portrayed. 

I’m not going to take some “Save the Children” photos. I’m not asking for donations or none of that. I’m asking for awareness and dignity.

That reminds me of your photograph “La Princessa.”

That one came out in a beautiful way. I was at the Benito Juarez shelter and they had close to 7,000 migrants that had just traveled with the caravan in Tijuana. They put them in this sports arena that was open. It didn’t have a ceiling or anything. So when it rained, the trash bags put up to cover them from the rainfall just collapsed. They had very few portable toilets for the enormous number of people. They started leaking and it was a mess. I was so disappointed with humanity. I was so disappointed with how Mexico was treating people and the lack of compassion. In Mexico City, they had been treating them great. But in Tijuana, the mayor sympathized with Trump’s views and offered very little support to the migrants. I was walking and this little girl shouted “Photographer!” I turned around because I’m the only one with a camera. “You’re not going to take my photo? Yo soy la princesa.”

I stopped and thought, this is why I’m here. With her, it was so important for me to capture that moment and really make her feel like a true princess while I was taking her picture. So I took a whole series of pictures of her. I chose that one because I love the sky, it reminds me of an Alice in Wonderland sort of thing. I really wanted her to feel and know that she’s special. I could have continued being depressed that day, but she was the one that called me. After that instance, I can’t allow myself to be in a bad mood. I’m there to do a service.

La Princesa. Photo by Ada Trillo

That picture really does look magical. Her energy and her smile just radiate. 

Think about what it teaches us. Yeah, she’s in really bad circumstances, but she’s able to smile. She got that dress from the donation box from the Red Cross. Who knows what clothes she had before. She managed to grab it because the other little girls wanted it. She won it. 

A victory for her. 

Yeah.

If you plan to shoot a caravan, you’re going to have shitty work. You’re going to have the same work that FOX news has.

How much of your work is shaped by instinctive intuition versus strategic planning? 

Everything is instinctive. If you plan to shoot a caravan, you’re going to have shitty work. You’re going to have the same work that Fox News has. That’s not what I want. It has to be that I’m a member of this community, they like me, and we are doing a collaboration. It’s not a subject and photographer dynamic. We’re working together. You want your story to be told, and I can tell it.

I’ve read that before you were a photographer, you would paint. Is there an aspect of the medium of photography that allows you to communicate complex ideas more effectively than other mediums, from your perspective? 

Imagine if I would have painted La Princesa, and you see the exact piece as it was in the photograph. You would have your doubts if it was true or not because it was done with a brush and can be manipulated. With photography, it’s history. It’s recording a time and moment in history that is precious. In documentary photography, you’re not allowed to change it. 

Hondurans traveling to seek asylum. Photo by Ada Trillo

How would you define your advocacy for Central American migrants through photography? Would you encourage others to explore photography as a way of reclaiming their identity and narrative?

I have a program that I started at the migrant shelter of Juarez. I shot with several cameras; this time I had two. At this time, they had more than 80 children in the shelter. This little boy came up to me and said, “Let me borrow your little camera, I want to take pictures.” I then thought to myself, why the hell am I here? Am I here to take from these people, or am I here to give?

I started with three cameras teaching 80 students. Imagine the chaos of all different ages. After those three months, they can get a used free camera as a donation so they can continue practicing and begin telling their own stories. But, it had to be someone who knew what they were doing and was savvy about it and wasn’t going to sell it. 

I started this program in 2016. Since my parents live in Juarez, it’s very convenient for me because when I go there in the summer I can do the program effectively. I can also print the photos they take and show them because in Juarez the printing is so cheap. I do this so they can see their progress and see what they’re doing. I very much encourage everyone to take pictures. I love teaching, but I also love the medium. I’m very supportive of anybody learning it. Everyone has a different eye; everyone is saying a different thing. 

What direction do you see your work going in the future? 

I am doing something right now on migrants in the LGBTQ community that looks at what life is like post being accepted into the United States—how that life looks, and also how that life looks as a member of the LGBTQ community in border towns where there’s violence, threats, and just general difficulty. That’s what I’m working on right now but it’s going to take me a while because I want to do it really well.