When I think of A hurricane advances cheerfully, I cannot help but place myself within that fragile and decisive moment: the instant when Jonc reaches the age of majority. I experience it as an invisible boundary, a step that not only marks his future, but also shakes everything we are and everything we believe we understand about desire, intimacy, freedom, and autonomy.

Through him, I find myself asking what it really means to decide for oneself. Not only in a legal sense, but from a deep, intimate place: being able to feel, to want, to explore one’s own body and one’s own relationships without fear, without imposed filters. I realize that the body becomes a territory full of contradictions—fragile and powerful at the same time—constantly crossed by the gaze of others, which often limits more than it accompanies.

This journey is not only his, it is also mine. I enter into it from a very personal place, marked by the experience of mothering. I question what it means to be the mother of a person with diversity, what it implies to love from such an intense, demanding place. There are days when the pain weighs heavily, when I feel overwhelmed, unbalanced, exhausted. And, at the same time, there is a deep need to reclaim my own right to desire, to pleasure, to exist beyond the role that has been assigned to me.

This project has grown by listening to many other voices, by sharing experiences with diverse people of different ages and identities. This has opened my perspective, it has made me understand that this story is not only ours, but collective. That it speaks of all the people who, in one way or another, have felt that they do not fully fit in.

And it is here that the need to say it clearly is born: diverse people make others uncomfortable. But this discomfort is necessary, because it reminds us of a truth that we often forget—that no one survives alone.

With this performance, I feel that I shout, that I ask, that I call for a more just, more co-responsible society. A society that not only allows, but guarantees real, dignified, and full autonomy. And I do so through a language that seeks to be poetic, but also honest and piercing. Because, in the end, this hurricane does not only advance: it also transforms us.