Some doors remain locked, no matter how many times we knock. I’ve carried the keys of experience, years of knowledge, and the determination to keep trying, and still, some doors refuse to open. However, in my culture, we don’t stop at a locked door. We carve our own paths, just as the women before us forged new ways when none existed.

This spirit is evident in the hands of artisans. Their work has endured centuries of being dismissed, undervalued, and erased, but it persists. Too often, their designs are borrowed without acknowledgment, and their symbols are reduced to mere surface decoration while the stories behind them are overlooked. Even today, brands release products featuring Mexican motifs while refusing to recognize or honor the artisans who have carried these traditions forward. Despite their stories being overlooked, artisans continue to create, and in that persistence, I see a reflection of myself.

There are days when I feel the weight of closed doors pressing down on me. Like silver refined in fire, I am shaped by trial after trial. Like a thread pulled taut on a loom, I sometimes worry I might snap under the pressure. But artisans remind me that every blow, every stretch, every repetition is not an end; it is part of the making of the story.

When opportunities are denied, I refuse to see myself as diminished. Instead, I recognize my connection to the lineage of craft and culture in the persistence of artisans whose work outlasts the forces that attempt to erase them, and in the resilience of women who create beauty from hardship. I remind myself: I am not defined by the doors that close, but by my strength to keep carving my own way forward.