By Benita Zepeda–

One rainy afternoon, a young girl named Silvia was granted permission to play outside with her sisters. It was January 6, the Day of the Kings in Argentina, a holiday where she would spend time with her family and get many toys.

Soaked in the heavy rain and covered in mud, for a split second Silvia escaped what her everyday reality was—an unhappy home and the disappearance of the blissful family she once knew. It would become the fondest childhood memory in the little girl’s life.

She grew up in Buenos Aires, Argentina, a county plagued with corrupt government, bouncing between a democracy and dictatorship. Her father inherited the business created by her grandfather, and as the political climate worsened, so did their business. The depressed environment she lived in forced the girl to create a strong voice—a voice that would remain silent for years because of the fear of becoming one of the “disappeared.”

That little girl is Chicago-based artist Silvia Malagrino, now 59. The childhood she describes was difficult, but if not for the trials that she went through, she would not have the voice that she does today.

The “disappeared” in Argentina were people that took political stands against the governmental dictatorship. Many of these individuals were young people that tried to change the political climate or voice their opinions about what was going on at the time. One of Malagrino’s best friends was one of the disappeared, and in fear of becoming one herself, she decided she needed a change.

Malagrino left Argentina in 1978 when she was attending university. She started as a pre-med student because she always had wanted to be a doctor, but found that French literature, languages, poetry and photography were what made her inner voice come out.

Living in the conditions of Argentina, she knew she had no future there. Feeling as if she had nothing to lose, she announced to her family that she would be leaving home, and then she had to deal with the unsupportive backlash of her decision. It was her mentor that gave her the encouragement to leave.

“I couldn’t express myself,” Malagrino said. “There was so much censorship. Before I left, I began to sense death. I felt really strong, I could say, the smell of death. I was suffocating.”

Her mentor, who was a political leader, professor and a philosopher, told her that it was ok to leave Argentina.

“He probably saved my life,” Malagrino said. “He kind of gave me the blessing to go, and I did. I was lucky.”

Her journey continued after she landed in the United States, which was the first time she had ever left her home country. She had some extreme challenges ahead of her. She couldn’t speak English; she was living in a new country, and she was alone.

Taking various jobs while teaching herself how to speak English, Malagrino continued to work on her art, and develop her voice. She moved to Chicago and took a part-time position teaching photography. With her home still in the back of her mind, Malagrino decided to use her art to express what had happened in Argentina when she lived there.

Malagrino decided to go back home and retrace the history of her country through her personal memory and political history. Her most recent documentary, “Burnt Oranges,” details her journey back to Argentina to uncover what had happened when she lived there.

Ilene Goldman, a writer that studied “Burnt Oranges,” said that she loves what Malagrino does.

“She makes extremely important contributions to a growing body of work by ex-patriot video and filmmakers who are exploring their countries in post-dictatorship years,” Goldman said.

Janina Ciezadlo, adjunct faculty member in Columbia College’s Humanities, History, and Social Sciences Department, said that Malagrino’s work is definitely unique.

“She’s very admirable in terms of how she works with the medium and how she teaches herself and the kind of rapport she has with photography and film,” Ciezadlo said. “It’s very hard to leave your native country and your family, but clearly when she left, these people were disappearing. No one knew what was happening to them, whether they were being tortured, whether they were alive, whether they were dead—it was a very scary business.”

While Malagrino describes the trips back home as some of the hardest moments in her life, her documentary and work has helped get Argentinean oppression out in the open from a personal point of view.

She is now a professor at the University of Chicago and still continues to create work. Although Ciezadlo said she never took a class with Malagrino, she knows that she is really respected within the educational community.

“I know people who are her former students that hold her in high regard,” Ciezadlo said. “She has been teaching for many years.”

Overcoming so many challenges, Malagrino offered her advice to young people and Latinas facing tough situations that seem to be larger-than-life.

“If the person has an interest in developing a career or getting out of an oppressive situation, get the strength from that impulse,” Malagrino said. “Find what you love, and follow what you love, because that is going to give you the strength to go through any calamity because you know that you’re doing it out of love.”

Benita Zepeda is a journalism student at Columbia College Chicago.