Diablita is the digital illustration I am most proud of, and one of my most widely recognized works.

She was born from lived experience. One of my nicknames growing up was Diabla—you can assume what you want from that. Yet I was also often described as sweet. These traits appear contradictory, but neither is a lie.

In creating Diablita, I came to understand two things.

First, she represents me. I rebelled—against authority, against my parents, against the quiet injustices that shaped my life. I learned early to be soft, quiet, and accommodating in order to preserve a false sense of peace. I believed that if I didn’t disturb my surroundings, nothing could go wrong. That belief was a lie. By doing nothing, everything went wrong. This is why Diablita appears sad—her eyes and body language carry truths that words cannot.

Second, Diablita represents us—specifically those who claim female pronouns. For every time we were labeled the weaker sex. For every time we were told to be quiet, to diminish ourselves, to shrink for the comfort of others—while no one considered us within their spaces. And when we finally claimed space with our voices and presence, we were met with confusion, judgment, and resistance.

Ultimately, Diablita is who we needed when we were young and vulnerable. She is a reminder that we no longer need saving—we can save ourselves now.