In every hotel, a portion of the staff is composed of women who clean and tidy the rooms. These are people whom almost no one sees. Their work must be done when the guests are not present, with the rule that they should not be seen or heard, avoiding the elevators used by guests and not passing through the areas of the hotel used by others. These are the cleaning women, the ‘femme de chambre.’

I have lived with these women. Immersed in the exhausting rhythms of their work, during breaks, on the journeys to and from their homes, I tried to enter their world. These women are often little educated, bearing the weight of lives with few choices and harsh necessities. They struggle to show themselves, burdened with a shame that aligns perfectly with a job that demands they be invisible, efficient, and unambitious.

These are unknown worlds, never told stories. Stories of women who have lost too many hopes, who silently let their nails wear away. Yet, I watch them laugh, try on perfumes, talk about their men, and share a sweet treat, and I feel the enduring strength of femininity that, despite everything, continues to thrive.