The gallery was quiet that afternoon, filled with the murmur of voices and the shuffle of shoes against the tiled floor. My photograph – a moment from a protest rally in Mexico City – hung on the wall among other student works.

She stood in front of it, absorbed, her gaze lingering longer than most. That was how I first noticed Daniella Guerrero.

It was 2010, and I was a photography student at a community college in Irving, Texas. Daniella, a single mother from Mexico, lived in Dallas with her daughters. We began talking, first about the picture, then about art, life, and the people who inspired us. Somewhere in that flow of conversation, I told her she reminded me of the Mexican painter Frida Kahlo.

Not just in appearance, though her unibrow carried the same striking force. But in pres

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