Silence of Dawn

To migrate is like the silence I can hear when I can't sleep at dawn. That silence when you know that the sun is rising but cannot see it yet, and you are waiting for light in the middle of the darkne

To migrate is like the silence I can hear when I can't sleep at dawn. That silence when you know that the sun is rising but cannot see it yet, and you are waiting for light in the middle of the darkness. / Yenifer Duran, 20, in Lima, Peru.

Throughout 6 months I worked in collaboration with Venezuelan women migrants who live in Lima, Peru. I was visually inspired by their stories and their memories. I wanted to look at what happened to their inner world after they arrived in Peru, how they perceived themselves within the patriarchal and hierarchical society of Lima and wanted to show the psychological and emotional experience of being displaced. I photographed their objects and spaces to convey the emotions they live with daily within their often transient spaces. From a t-shirt as a reminder of mum, a physical scar with the words that had become ingrained in their skin to past experiences turned into nightmares which kept them up at night.

In Peru, Venezuelan women experience criminalizing xenophobia differently to men. Through stereotypes perpetrated by national media, men are perceived as murderers and thieves while women are stereotyped as desperate for money, potential sex-workers and without many skills. This has casted women into informal, precarious, feminized and racialized work.

Over 5 million Venezuelan migrants live within Latin America. By 2018 in Peru, 58% were women and by 2019 most women entering the country were under the age of 30, according to UNHCR. Many of whom work informal jobs, were paid below minimum wage ($250/month) and encountered barriers for pursuing any form of education. By the end of 2020, over one million Venezuelan migrants had arrived in Peru. As of 2021, Peru ranked as the second country in the world with the highest population of Venezuelan forced migrants after Colombia. Despite UN suggestions, Peru does not recognize Venezuelan migrants as refugees with a few exceptions for health conditions such as HIV.

I will continue working on this project in Brazil as many of the women I photographed in Peru are moving back to Venezuela. In Brazil, I will focus on the gendered issues of living as a migrant under Bolsonaro with the changing political landscape as elections near. As a long term project, I will be returning to the women I worked closely with in Peru and continue with their journeys within or outside of Venezuela.

© Daniela Rivera Antara - Image from the Silence of Dawn photography project
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I have thought a lot about my mum. By Rosa Marin, 26. “My little Caracas”, said Rosa Marin, 26, while she held up her hand on the landscape. “Whenever I go out of the room at night, I see at a distance this little spot that reminds me of Caracas. My mother lives in Merida, and she is very ill so I want to return to Venezuela knowing that I tried to search for a better life in Peru.” Rosa was set to return to Venezuela at the end of June 2021 but postponed it due to the political crisis in Colombia. She worked in Lima selling towels and cleaning the school where her children studied. “I had many days of laying on my bed, thinking about why I came here. My partner was laid off from work in early June, during Peru’s presidential elections and since then we have struggled more than before.”

© Daniela Rivera Antara - Image from the Silence of Dawn photography project
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A birth and a suffering. By Yenifer Duran, 20. Yenifer Duran, 20, stands with her 1 year old son by the window of the room she lives in with her partner. They arrived in Peru in November 2019 from Valencia, Venezuela. “I worked as a hostess when I found out I was pregnant. I quit and then worked as a waitress, where my boss would demand I turn in the tips I got from customers. He said that was money earned by the restaurant. One day he came up to me and told me having a baby would ruin my life. That if I aborted by son he would give me a better life and would buy me everything I needed or wanted. After months working there I quit.”

© Daniela Rivera Antara - Image from the Silence of Dawn photography project
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I remembered when my grandmother would tell me I had delirious dreams of being a queen and Aranza a princess. By Joselvis Medina, 24. Joselvis Medina, 24, lives in a small room with her daughter, and partner. She bought the pink dress for her daughter Aranza before their first Christmas celebration in Peru. ”I arrived in Peru with Aranza with nothing to eat and without a suitcase. My partner sent me money from Peru but when he picked me up I realised we didn’t have a bed or a kitchen. I want Aranza to have everything I never had. I know there are more important things and It might be silly or unimportant but it is a dream of mine to give her what I never had.”

© Daniela Rivera Antara - Image from the Silence of Dawn photography project
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A park at night in the district of Comas, in northern Lima. This is a very popular district for Venezuelan migrants. Rent is affordable compared to other districts in the city but transportation is less accessible, usually taking around one to two hours to get to downtown Lima or to other districts where salaries are better and work is less informal.

© Daniela Rivera Antara - Image from the Silence of Dawn photography project
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Portrait of Josemir Mahmud, 35. She arrived in Lima 3 months after her husband in 2018. She left her parents and her newly bought house in Coro, north of Venezuela. Josemir stood for a portrait with her grandmother’s shawl, who was an immigrant from Palestine. Josemir graduated with a degree in Chemistry and in Lima works as a hairdresser and as a baker. She and her husband do weekly voluntary work as missionaries. Through their work they met Adriana Sierra, a young woman with a 2 year old son, as they live 5 minutes walking distance from each other within the same neighbourhood of San Juan de Miraflores.

© Daniela Rivera Antara - Image from the Silence of Dawn photography project
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(From left to right) Adriana Sierra, 22, her son Mateo, 2; Maria José Brizuela, 22; Joselvis Medina, 24, and her daughter Aranza, 2, on their way to start their day shift selling coffee around the neighbourhood market. Mateo is Joselvis’ nephew, as Adriana was previously partnered with Joselvis’ brother. They live together in the same residential building in the lower income neighbourhood of San Juan de Miraflores, in southern Lima. The three women have been working in the streets since they arrived in Peru, after having worked jobs that didn’t pay them or where they were harassed by the owners.

© Daniela Rivera Antara - Image from the Silence of Dawn photography project
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Marisol Perez, 58, braiding her hair in the morning before doing her daily excercises. Marisol lives with her daughter Nahkya, her son Kevin and son-in-law in Lima since 2017. They were flown into Peru by a Brazilian military plane as they crossed the border during a flood. Marisol's father escaped Spain during Franco's dictatorship "Before my father passed away, he said many times to me that my children should have left Venezuela already. It was 2016 and he was anticipating we would be leaving soon, but we didn't because I didn't want to leave him behind."

© Daniela Rivera Antara - Image from the Silence of Dawn photography project
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New shoes bought by Joselvis for her daughter Aranza. "Aranza only wears the same black shoes. It looks like she doesn't have other clothes to wear but in reality, she loves her black shoes. Like any little girl, she cannot let go of her favourite things."

© Daniela Rivera Antara - Image from the Silence of Dawn photography project
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Courage, understanding, return, custom, liberation, venecos, trail, inconveniences, wonder, rains, xenophobia, governments, politics, bribery, rivers, Hercules (Brazilian helicopter), militia, pain, aporophobia, fear, family [...] Time to escape from the reality that overwhelms you every time, knowing that you must earn a living for here and for over there. Unintentionally exposing yourself to the reality of the country we arrived in without knowing what awaits us. By Nahkya Gutierrez, 29. Nahkya, her mother, brother and partner have lived in Peru since 2017. They left Venezuela before Maduro changed the Constituent Assembly, triggering an unprecedented increase in forced migrants. During the pandemic Nahkya and her family lost their jobs except for her partner, who in Venezuela was kept as a political prisoner in Caracas. Nahkya now works as a dentist assistant and as a dual Venezuelan/Spanish citizen, she is saving up to move away from Peru.

© Daniela Rivera Antara - Image from the Silence of Dawn photography project
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Portrait of Rosa Marin, 26, with her son Isaac. Rosa's journey to Peru was very scary for her and unfortunately not uncommon. "I was pulled aside by a Colombian police while I crossed with my brother and my sons through the river at the border. My brother took my kids and I had to follow this man who held a gun the whole time. He took me away from the main road and after 20 minutes we arrived at a slaughter house. I thought I was going to die, but when we entered the house, the man put aside the gun and asked if I would go on a date with him. He said he thought I was cute."

© Daniela Rivera Antara - Image from the Silence of Dawn photography project
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(Left) Portrait of a shirt Rosa keeps in a separate plastic bag. “My mother gave me this shirt as a gift right before I left Merida. It was a shirt I wore to a baseball game in Venezuela, and it always reminds me of her.” The shirt hangs from the window where she lives with her two children and partner. (Right) Isaac, 8, plays on the rooftop of the residence after finishing playing with his brother inside the bedroom.

© Daniela Rivera Antara - Image from the Silence of Dawn photography project
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During my baby’s birth I was very scared because I didn’t want him to get HIV, the way my mother had transmitted it to me when I was born and due to medical negligence I was certain my baby’s health was at risk. By Yenifer Duran, 20. Yenifer Duran grew up HIV+ and left Venezuela with her partner after witnessing an armed robbery for antiretrovirals at the hospital where she had regular checkups. The treatment could no longer be found in Venezuela and she was suggested by her doctor to eat beetroot as an alternative. Her baby was born HIV- despite being neglected by the medical staff while Yenifer went into labour. Yenifer was granted legal residence for high vulnerability despite being undocumented.

© Daniela Rivera Antara - Image from the Silence of Dawn photography project
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The bedroom and kitchen of the apartment where Raisa Soto, 49, lives with her 3 sons in the south of Lima. They moved to this apartment in February 2021 one week after her youngest son, 21 years old (left), arrived in Peru by land. Raisa has refugee status since 2018, her oldest sons have legal residencial permits and her youngest son is undocumented. ”Even though refugee status grants me the right to work and find employment, nobody wants to hire a woman my age in Peru. I am considered too old even though I worked at a university for decades in Venezuela and have a lot of administrative experience. For the last 3 years I have sold desserts on the street, and normally I make $4 a day.” Despite UN suggestions, Peru doesn’t recognize all Venezuelan’s as refugees.

© Daniela Rivera Antara - Image from the Silence of Dawn photography project
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During the day I think everything is fine but at night I realize that something in me broke and I cannot sleep because I have nightmares that I am in Venezuela in the streets again or that I am walking aimlessly. By Adriana Sierra, 22. Adriana Sierra, 22, plays on her bed with her son Matheo, 2, as he offers her crackers that he received as a gift in the market the night before. Adriana sells coffee in the local market everyday and on a very good day she makes $8. “I walked to Peru followed by journalists who photographed my son while we crossed the mountains of Colombia without shoes or a jacket. I was homeless in Venezuela, that is why I left. There are moments when I look back and realise we both could have died.” Adriana was sexually assaulted in Cucuta, Colombia after stepping out of Venezuela in January 2020 and arrived in Lima in March 2020.

© Daniela Rivera Antara - Aranza's bath time.
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Aranza's bath time.

© Daniela Rivera Antara - Image from the Silence of Dawn photography project
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The only bad thing is the loneliness. By Joselvis Medina, 24. Inside Joselvis’ room, Adriana Sierra, 22, plays with Mateo, 2, and her niece Aranza, 2 during a lighthearted moment, before Adriana left for work.

© Daniela Rivera Antara - Image from the Silence of Dawn photography project
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I worked cleaning a house and when I was washing the clothes of the 16-year-old girl, their grandmother gave me panties full of blood and a boxer full of excrement. I told them I wouldn't do that job. The lady answered that I was fired. By Yenifer Duran, 20. Yenifer Duran, 20, sits with two young neighbours to play Dominoes during a day by the pool. Yenifer has been unemployed since the end of 2020, as she contracted Covid-19 three times throughout 2020 and 2021. Her previous job at a local food factory required her to work from 7am to 4am every day, with only one hour lunch break for below minimum wage. Before her baby was born, Yenifer worked cleaning a house, as a hostess, as a waitress and sold popcorn in the street.

© Daniela Rivera Antara - Image from the Silence of Dawn photography project
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Yenifer Duran, 20, stands outside her room as her partner, Jesus Correia (pseudonym), 33, walks towards the building management. This residence was a summer club in Huachipa, 2 hours outside of the city of Lima by public transport. As the pandemic began the owners rented the rooms to Venezuelan migrants who looked for affordable accommodation from $50 - $110 a month. “When we first moved here we paid $110 but the owners increased the price to $140 when Jesús started working. The owners don’t understand how a migrant could have bought a laptop. He is a software engineer, so this is the only way he can work.” Jesús’ passport was stolen when they entered Peru, significantly restricting his work possibilities.

© Daniela Rivera Antara - Image from the Silence of Dawn photography project
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The doctor kept telling me my husband was irresponsible for not bringing the anesthesia, that Venezuelan men were murderers and that it was my fault for having had a baby with a Venezuelan man; but my husband had bought the anesthesia and they never gave it to me. By Yenifer Duran, 20. Portrait of the c-section scar on Yenifer Duran’s abdomen. Yenifer was verbally harassed and physically harmed by the medical staff of a large hospital in Lima during labour. When she complained about the discomfort and pain on the operation table, the nurses mocked her and called her names “They said Venezuelan women were exaggerated and we were all cry babies. They expected me to stay quiet. I have been used to pain because of my health, but this was unbearable.” In Peru xenophobia is mixed with criminalisation. The belief that Venezuelan men are murderers and Venezuelan women are prostitutes. Resulting in hate crimes, public harassment, sexual assault, being denied a space to live, unpaid extra work hours or even being denied a salary after months of work. Migrant mothers, like Yenifer, experience the most unspoken violence.

© Daniela Rivera Antara - Image from the Silence of Dawn photography project
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Portrait of Yenifer as she swims in the residential pool for the first time since she arrived in Lima, having a day off responsibilities with her son and her partner. They paid $15 to the residence management to be able to swim during the afternoon. This is the equivalent of a week’s worth of groceries for them. “By the end of August, we will go back to Venezuela to get new passports and then we will seek asylum in Spain or Germany. Both my parents were Spanish but they died when I was a baby. I am very happy my son was born here, but without documents we cannot do much. We have applied twice for Venezuelan passports, paid $440 for each but we haven’t even been given an appointment.”

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