On May 19, I joined the World March of Women on their voyage to Caminha to bring the quilt to the women of Galicia (Spain) who awaited us on the other side of the Minho, a river marking the border between the two countries and which, that day, served as a link in the chain unifying women around the world..

We travelled by ferry. One of the women with us, a city councillor of Caminha, bought the ferry tickets for all the Portuguese women. We danced, sang and marched to Spain feeling the joy we feel as we go to meet our sisters and friends.

As we navigated the waters, I remembered the time when, despite my higher education, I did not have the right to vote; we had no rights over the rearing of our children; we could not aspire to be judges or diplomats; and the act of writing about women's freedom put you straight into the hands of the Political Police. . . . I also remembered my joy in 1976, on the occasion of the International Women's Tribunal, and the message someone wrote on the walls of a building—I can't remember which one—that said: "the worst crime against women is to use them to turn them against one another."

The Women's Global Charter, representing 53 countries, is above all, a symbol of hope. We all sail the ship that is Earth and we all want to be happy. But you, who are young, and still new to this world, must not think that everything has been resolved and that today you no longer face the same problems that my generation had to face. Do not forget that time; make sure that never again will others have to suffer what our ancestors were forced to endure. Remember that when it comes to women's rights, none of our gains is permanent. Things can change very rapidly, and for the worse.

The welcome at La Guardia surpassed all our expectations. There was a huge crowd to greet us, clearly the result of a major mobilization effort, and the women of Galicia had transformed the reception of the quilt into a giant celebration.

The transmission of the quilt was a highly significant and symbolic event. Two teams of women rowers from two locations—Caminha and La Guardia—had escorted the ferry, everyone wearing the same colours, mostly orange, as if to say that women had abolished the border and that there were no longer any distinctions between Portuguese and Galician women.

As a historian, I was strongly affected by the boat crossing and the presence of water all around us. The Portuguese women were in a sense perpetuating Portugal's destiny as a people of sailors who maintain good relationships with other cultures. In relaying the quilt, they were contributing something out of their own history and maritime traditions; indeed, this was illustrated in the Portuguese quilt square.

Water. It is in the "water" of a woman's belly that life begins. As each country adds its square to the quilt, there is growing hope that the process of women's unity—a process without borders—will be strengthened. 

The Galician women gave us a magnificent welcome. There were speeches, musical performances, flags, jubilance, group photos and plenty to drink and eat. To everyone's delight, we also unfolded a quilt created by children who had decided to use this form to express their opposition to violence.

I was left with the sensation that the quilt had brought with it a new women's consciousness. Each of us had one foot in her own culture and the other in the diverse cultures of this world. Often, this culture is hostile to us and we must eliminate everything in it that reduces us to slavery and take advantage of everything that make us happy, free and in charge of our own destiny. This quilt, with the squares of all the countries, tells us that we can be different, because of our cultural roots, but that we can also be equals and sisters.

Maria José Magalhães, one of the Portuguese representatives, read an evocative poem about what unites, rather than separates, women. The poem was taken from the work of one of the "Three Marias," who had actively opposed the dictatorship of the period. With her reading, she was perpetuating another tradition of her country, because Portugal is a country of poets; in fact, the date of its national celebration is that of the death of its greatest poet.

"Here we are at the heart of the struggle—exposed, incapable of overcoming the burdens of each day . . .

in redefining the foundations and principles and

stirring up that which has lain dormant

we will never be prey

or objects for the taking

gathering together

rowing, or blown by the wind . . .

all of us far from her sisters

and yet so close."

Free translation