Chloe Kerleroux, Modulo 2
Gallery / 11 images
Earlier this year, photographer Chloe Kerleroux visited Modulo 2, a wing within Cancún’s high-security women’s prison CERESO. The facility, which was formerly occupied by leaders of criminal networks and under the highest security level, was recently reassigned to incarcerated women under new leadership who have reimagined living conditions within the prison. Today, 284 women live in Modulo 2, with access to a wide range of activities from sport and education to craft and spiritual support.
Kerleroux – who spent two years trying to gain access to the prison – was interested in exploring femininity and intimate resistance within the confines of incarceration. She was inspired by High, a documentary which follows Michaella McCollum, an Irish woman who was caught trafficking cocaine and imprisoned in Peru, but eventually finds her place in the prison beauty salon. “The film was a real revelation to me,” explains Kerleroux. “It illustrated how beauty practices and body adornment could offer dignity and affirmation even in such a constrained environment.”
Kerleroux’s images, which are raw and spontaneous, sit between reportage, street photography, and portraiture. Her approach is focused on proximity, collecting the small and often overlooked moments of everyday life that, together, reveal the larger social dynamics of the environment. Kerleroux and her translator, Marie Cousin, were granted three days’ access to the prison. “Some inmates were very welcoming, others were cautious at first,” recalls Kerleroux. “But I’ve found in any context, if your approach is sincere and respectful, it usually generates reciprocity. Today, we are constantly bombarded by shocking images that end up trivialising pain and trauma. With this project, I hope to illustrate how some prisons strive to preserve inmates’ dignity, offering some hope in an often desperate context.”
Below, Chloe Kerleroux reflects, in her own words, on the making of Modulo 2 and the challenges that came with it.
“At first glance, there is a real energy of sisterhood in the prison: most even speak of it as family. Some relationships are familial in the literal sense, with multiple generations confined together, or friendly, with inmates who have known each other before. There are also a few couples, which shapes the dynamic. Despite this solidarity, it is still a closed, all-female environment, which can sometimes create tensions where communal life remains complex and hierarchical. Moreover, there is no psychiatric service in Cancún: some inmates have disabilities or psychological disorders, like bipolar, and deep depressions can disrupt daily life. Showing this emotional range was essential: it reflects the complexity of their daily lives, the coexistence of resilience, femininity, and joy with the harsh challenges of prison life.”
“The inmates’ day starts early, around 6:30am, with washing up and breakfast in the cell, each one housing seven to eight women. From 9 to 10am, the day is punctuated by multiple activities organised by different associations; this ranges from sports, creative workshops and French to human rights classes and spiritual interventions. They can also make brief calls to loved ones once a day. Lunch takes place in the cell, and then the rest of the day is dedicated to quieter moments: reading, knitting and drawing, before dinner and lights out. With so many workshops in parallel, each day is different, and these routines structure daily life in a collective way.
“When the new director arrived, CERESO Cancun was rated level 31 – the worst being 32. In less than two years, he brought it to level 18, creating a drastic change for the inmates’ lives. He maximised reintegration programs, including the creation of a brand-new daycare for children. I was postpartum and left my baby to make this work, which wasn’t easy, but when I encountered the inmates who are also new mothers and witnessed their strength, taking care of their young children in confinement, I was incredibly moved.”
“Initially, when I began the project, I’d imagined a real beauty salon within the prison environment. In reality, there was no dedicated space, and beauty-related objects are not part of everyday life and are only allowed on rare occasions. While everything is limited, I was struck by the women’s ability to work around these constraints: they improvise, tinker, add discreet details, and colour their nails with what they have. These are not grand gestures, but micro-acts of resistance and self-assertion.”
“I was fortunate to witness a rare moment: the return of the inmates’ beauty materials. The energy of certain women changed radically – an incredible softness and pride emerged, revealing their striking femininity. Some, who might have seemed tough or intimidating, were completely transformed: their energy shifted, and this moment revealed a form of intimate resistance and dignity beyond anything I had imagined. Even the more introverted women, encouraged by friends and prepared by other inmates, gained remarkable confidence. It was deeply moving to see them feel beautiful.”
“Tattoos are deeply rooted in Mexican culture, in Mexico and many inmates wear Santa Muerte tattoos. One of my previous projects documented the Santa Muerte procession in Tepito, where I learned of the power of this spiritual figure and how people seeking forgiveness or protection are drawn to this icon.”
“Ebellia [right] is currently in pre-trial detention and facing charges, with her daughter [pictured left]. She never once lost her smile and carries a deep sense of gentleness. Often absorbed in reading her Bible, she finds a daily form of grounding in faith. She spoke to us about how a single mistake can alter the course of a life.”
“Beyond simply feeling beautiful, standing in front of the camera, with the possibility that these images might circulate beyond the prison walls, seemed to intensify the inmate’s posture and presence. The camera became, perhaps, a messenger between inside and outside, carrying their image, their dignity, and their femininity into the free world. It allowed them to fully embody their femininity and assert their identity beyond confinement.”
