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We arrived in Santuario (Colombia) early in the morning. Ferns were hanging from the colorful balconies overlooking the provincial square. jeeps They walked among them carrying bags of coffee, which would be distributed to the rest of the world. In the park, Luz Didian and Samantha, the community leader of the Emberá ethnic group, were waiting for us. Both were exiled from their council for defending their gender identities. They, along with other trans women of their ethnic group, found refuge in the coffee farms of the region, where they work as coffee pickers. Samantha is their leader, the one who speaks Spanish best.

And jeep The coffee grower led us up the mountain along muddy trails to a farm hidden among coffee plantations. Samantha stood on a rooftop, waiting patiently while Lorena Maza, the stylist, created a lush skirt from the farm’s curtains for Camila Falquez’s portrait.

Months later, on July 31, the streets of downtown Bogotá were taken by surprise: 50 large-scale silk portraits of trans people waved in the rain. They were carried by activists and artists dressed in red who, in a trans and non-binary procession, paralyzed traffic until they reached Plaza Bolívar. There, in front of the doors of Congress and the Presidential Palace, the silks, almost three meters long, were raised showing the faces of trans leaders and, also, the articles of the first draft of the Comprehensive Trans Law of Colombia. Samantha’s face was among all those printed on the enormous canvas.

Falquez, Maza and I had spent two years traveling through the most biodiverse territories in Colombia, from the Andean mountains to the Caribbean and Pacific coasts. We listened to the stories of more than 70 activists who, from all corners of the country, have worked on the collective drafting of the bill that demands the protection and reparation of human rights that have historically been denied to the trans community in Colombia. It did not arise in the offices of any political party. It was born directly from the entity Plataforma de Ley Integral Trans.

In parallel to the bill, Compañerx was also born, an artistic work that bears witness to the social and political movement of the trans community in Colombia. And so, on July 31, Compañerx brought trans bodies and faces, historically discriminated against and oppressed, to the epicenter of the country’s political power. Those portraits printed on silk were placed in front of the Congress of the Republic, the Palace of Justice, and the Primate Cathedral of the Archdiocese of Colombia. “Light a candle to that Virgin,” murmured a passerby upon seeing one of the portraits, not knowing that it was a trans sex worker from Bogotá. That moment revealed the depth of the impact of a project that challenges social norms and seeks to transform the perception of trans and non-binary bodies. “It is a unique opportunity for our work to have a real impact on the lives of a community that deserves to be celebrated and repaired,” explains Falquez.

As Colombia’s Comprehensive Trans Law makes its way through the legislative process, there is hope that it will become law before the 2026 presidential elections, when the far right could return to power. In a global context that favors reactionary right-wing parties, bills like this symbolize a possibility of healing and a path toward a more inclusive and harmonious world.

In countries where there is still no legislation protecting the rights of the collective and where attacks on LGTBIQ+ rights are intensifying, this law could offer a model to follow, showing that, beyond regulation, it is about a cultural transformation.

Bicky Bohórquez. Black trans leader born in Palmira, Valle del Cauca (Colombia), involved in the creation of the Comprehensive Trans Law. Her work focuses on supporting Afro-descendant trans people in her region with legal and health system procedures. “We work to ensure that trans people are guaranteed the rights that have historically been denied to us.”Camila FalquezMilo Mosquera. “Let’s tell the world: shut up and let me be what I am, let me be who I want to be.” Milo Mosquera is a musician, percussionist and promoter of what he calls “the revolution of African music from the Colombian Pacific”, an artistic movement that has allowed him to heal, through the drum, all the pain and suffering of his African ancestors and his trans community.Camila FalquezFarith Palacios. Entrepreneur from Quibdó, a town in the Chocó rainforest. “I am a leader in every aspect, I have achieved the dream of having my own business.” Owner of a beauty salon, Palacios highlights the importance of being economically independent on her path to freedom. “I have revolutionized these lands because I am independent and free,” she says.Camila FalquezLuz Didian. She belongs to Las Mariposas del Café: a family of indigenous trans women exiled from their Emberá ethnic group. She says that she preferred to seek refuge on coffee farms to work as a coffee picker rather than engage in sex work. “We are here to show people that indigenous trans women in Colombia have the power to change our lives.”Camila FalquezJulieta Osorio. Actress from Cali, who discovered her essence through drag and voguing, two forms of expression that allowed her to understand her identity. Reflecting on her childhood, she remembers how her mother insisted that her sister wear skirts, something she hated and that Julieta, on the other hand, loved. “Sometimes I felt like we had been swapped at birth,” she confesses with a smile.Camila FalquezThe work seen from the air recreates what is known in indigenous and Afro-descendant ceremonies as a “circle of spiritual protection.”Camila Falquez