I found Frida in the crown jewel of the museum. The gallery on the top floor with jewel-toned walls featured the most prominent artists. Frida Khalo is a mid-century Mexican painter known for her raw, surreal images.

Having spent a significant amount of her life bedridden (due to a horrific accident) with a mirror above her bed. Frida painted her relationships with pain, pleasure, resilience, and frailty.

 “Self Portrait for Leon Trotsky” was gifted to her comrade (Leon Trotsky) on his birthday after a brief love affair.

On first impression, I was not impressed; this portrait was free of the dramatic prose and mystery that have made it famous.

It was simply her.

Perhaps that’s the point; this portrait was a gift of Khalo’s softer side. She stands dressed in a full-length embroidered skirt, a fringed shawl, with her hair adorned in flowers. The smooth yet vibrant colors, framed by a set of white drapes peeling off to the side, presented herself as demure and regal. She holds a cluster of flowers and a note signed to Trotsky “all my love.”

I imagine the intensity of their conversations, passion, and secrets.

I’m sure Trotsky’s wife was thrilled.

Deciding to make my exit, I notice an annex above the top floor. Time was not on my side, but I cannot recall the last time I was in D.C. I got into a lengthy conversation with the charming librarian about my research project regarding the Pink Tax in the research library.

Her name was Kate. She explained that gender-biased pricing was very prominent in the art world and one of the reasons the museum was established. I gave her my email, and she dutifully sent me information for my research.

After a lengthy conversation, I said a quick goodbye and took the elevator to the ground floor, determined to leave.