She took her sister’s name—a nickname from a magazine—treasured the surname of one of her grandmothers, and charted a new course for her life. Rocío Harrinson Burga (1957–2020) reached the age of 65 in a country where life expectancy for transgender women is estimated to be just half that figure. She lived twice as long and did so intensely, in a country where her very existence is a challenge to violence and death.

She was born in Cañete, grew up in Carabayllo, and, like many, left home early due to family rejection. In Vitarte, she emerged from her chrysalis: after long days working on a tractor at a farm in Barbadillo—an area now known for housing four former presidents of Peru in its prison—sunset marked the time to live as who she truly was: Rocío. She traded farm work for brushes and scissors. She set out from Vitarte for Huancayo, rediscovered her Wanka roots, and was reborn: there, she became one of the founding figures of the trans community, finding in the chonguinada and the tunantada—traditional dances of Peru’s central highlands—a way to express her religious devotion and, above all, to show her neighbors that they, too, are children of God. A decade later, she returned to Lima for good, but with the mantos, fustanes, and a heart embroidered with Wanka culture.

That dancing, devout, and vibrant Rocío—who carved out a place for herself in the world time and again, who built a community, who took her trans friends and daughters time and again to dance in the Peruvian highlands—is the one captured in these photos. Cutting her friends’ hair, arriving radiant at the patron saint festivals in Los Olivos, happily buying a new shawl at an embroidery shop in Huancayo, requesting songs from the concert host, sharing that intimate moment of putting on her traditional dance costume with a friend before heading out to dance in front of the Sapallanga Church… this is how we want to remember her.

A kiss to the heavens, Rocío.