We are nothing if we walk alone; we are everything when we walk together in step with other dignified feet.

In that first blow to the deaf walls of those who have everything, the blood of our people, our blood, ran generously to wash away injustice. To live, we die. Our dead once again walked the way of truth. Our hope was fertilized with mud and blood.

Our war cries opened the deaf ears of the almighty government and its accomplices.

In the cabaret of globalization, the state shows itself as a table dancer that strips off everything until it is left with only the minimum indispensable garments: the repressive force.

We are going to rise up to overthrow the supreme governments, to overthrow corrupt officials, to throw all the rich and powerful out of this country and begin building a new Mexico with humble, simple people.

In reality, the pioneers of this transformation of the indigenous Zapatista woman are a merit of the women insurgents.