She was born, as me, in Mexico city on July 7th 1910 although her birth certificate showed July 6th 1907, just because she wanted that her birth date could coincide with the outbreak of the Mexican Revolution.
Pradoxically, her life was a Revolution, and since she was little she suffered so much.
At age 6 she got sick from polio, and the sequelaes last forever.
On September 17, 1925, when she was 18, she was riding a bus in Mexico City when it was struck by a trolley car. A metal handrail pierced her abdomen, exiting through her vagina. Her spinal column was broken in three places. Her collarbone, some ribs, and her pelvis were broken, and her right leg was fractured in 11 places. Her foot was dislocated and crushed. No one thought she would live, much less walk again, but, after a month in the hospital, she went home.
Frida let out all of her emotions on a canvas. She painted her anger and hurt over her stormy marriage, the painful miscarriages, and the physical suffering she underwent because of the accident.
Today we remember this incredible woman.
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