I Went on a Holiday to the Country You Fled From

Together with her friend Alejandra Ortiz, a writer and activist from Mexico, photographer Iris Haverkamp Begemann created the photo series ‘I Went on a Holiday to the Country You Fled From’. Iris travelled to Alejandra’s hometown in Mexico, tracing back her childhood and early life. The project creates an intimate portrait of identity and at the same time exposes a juxtaposition in experience and personal freedom. 

Photography Iris Haverkamp Begemann  Descriptions  by Alejandra Ortiz

In the summer of 2021, Haverkamp Begemann grappled with the impact of her decision to vacation in Mexico, considering how her visit might inadvertently contribute to a carefree vacation image of the country, despite the struggles faced by Alejandra and others like her. Alejandra's seven-year battle for a residence permit in the Netherlands, with Mexico labeled as "safe" for her, added a poignant layer to the narrative.

The photo series goes beyond the typical portrayal of Mexico as a tourist destination, seeking to deconstruct stereotypes and shed light on the stark realities of those who call it home. Guided by a hand-drawn map, Haverkamp Begemann immersed herself in Alejandra's hometown, capturing memories and experiences. Alejandra complemented the photographs with profound thoughts and reflections upon Haverkamp Begemann's return to the Netherlands.


Memory map.

“This is the map of my native village - a place I haven't visited for over 10 years—which I drew from my own memory.”


‘I Went on a Holiday to the Country You Fled From’ challenges prevailing perspectives of ‘me’ and ‘the Other,’ aiming to foster a collective consciousness by presenting the story from a "we" perspective. It portrays the intertwined lives of the photographer and the activist, offering an intimate portrayal of identity, belonging, and the impact of privilege on personal freedom. The series serves as a powerful testament to the multifaceted lives of those who call Mexico home, urging viewers to reconsider preconceived notions and embrace a more inclusive narrative.


Salitral de Carrera

“I’ve walked on these streets many times, but sometimes there was no escaping the bullies and I had to hide. There were a lot of boys during the day, boys around my age and older. They used to chase me and throw stones, they routinely insulted and beat me. One time, this guy put a firecracker on my back and it exploded. Maybe I still have the mark. I don't know. The women or the girls, the older people, they were not as mean, but they would laugh, or make mean remarks about me.”


Dad Julian and mum Conchita

“These are my parents, I haven't lived with them since I was 17. Looking at this picture, I cannot reconcile that these sweet documentary-like people are the same ones who made me feel so unworthy, so unloved, so unprotected.”


The Virgin Mary / Our Lady of Guadalupe

“In a society like that of Mexico, a woman's virginity is her most valued card. This is especially strong in small villages like mine, where women must remain virgins to the day they marry. My parents guard my sister with so much care, they want her to marry well. But for this she must remain virgin. The same was never expected of any of my brothers.”


Sister Yuliana

“I was already 20 when my sister Yuli was born. I was already in the U.S. I was already doing drugs and sex work when she was born. Part of me feels she has everything that I didn't have. She had braces and her birthday was celebrated every year. She didn't have to wait till she was 16 to brush her teeth. It used to make me feel very upset that my parents have the ability to be good parents. Very angry. Why her and not me?”


Mum Conchita

“Days ago, I called my mom and she said that she loves me. For years I longed to hear those words. But now, I felt so void of feelings, it made me feel dry. What was the point? I'm already on the other side of the world, and there is an ocean between us.”


Machismo and religion

“So this image confronts me with my dad, who was very vain, very irresponsible, narcissistic, who used to beat my mother and who left us hungry. Both my parents were so vain, they had a toothbrush to brush their teeth. I didn't have my first toothbrush till I was 16. It's no coincidence that when dating, I choose men that are like him. Because that's what I know.”


Grandma’s zaguán

“I used to sit on this zaguán (a Mexican porch), when I was little, during warm summer nights, with my grandmother. She used to tell me stories about her life and the village. She was the only one who remembered my birthday and didn’t think of me as the devil.”


Circus in town

“When I was 13, a circus came to the village. One of the performers in the circus was a person who wore make up but who looked so androgynous, it caused a stir in the whole village. At that moment, I knew I wanted to join a circus.”


Dad Julian

“One time my dad was crossing the border to go to the U.S. and the coyote (people smuggler) said to him “put some tennis shoes on so you can run.” He went running through the border on cowboy boots. When I visit my dear friend Willemijn in Limburg and we walk up and down the hills, I wear these heeled boots. I didn't want to be like them (my parents). It’s very confronting to become more and more like my dad.”


Boy + Girl

“When I was little, I wore a similar outfit for festivities (Revolution or Independence day) like the boy in this photo. Secretly, I dreamt of wearing the girl's outfit in the photo on the right.”


“I Went on a Holiday to the Country You Fled From’ is available to pre-oder HERE


About Iris and Alejandra

Iris explores the powerful influence of socially constructed realities. Adventurous and driven by a desire to question this reality, she has photographed several personal projects. She aims to create images that empower her subjects and create projects over extended periods, allowing for engaged and nuanced representations.

Alejandra is a Trans Feminist Writer, published author, thinker and community builder. Founder of Papaya Kuir is a lesbotransfeminist collective for & by the kuir latinx refugee/migrant community in the Netherlands.

To see more of their work, visit Iris’ website or follow them on Instagram : Iris + Alejandra


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