Narrator: Imagine this: it's 1953 in Mexico City. An artist, so ill that her doctors have forbidden her from leaving her bed, is about to have her very first solo exhibition in her home country. Missing it is not an option. So, she arranges for an ambulance to transport her, not on a gurney, but in her own decorated four-poster bed. She arrives at the gallery, is carried in, and holds court for the entire evening from her bed—singing, drinking, and celebrating with hundreds of admirers. This woman was Frida Kahlo, an artist whose life was a canvas as dramatic and vibrant as any of her paintings.

Her story is one of profound pain, but also of radical confidence, creativity, and an unyielding passion for life. In the book What Would Frida Do?: A Guide to Living Boldly, author Arianna Davis unpacks the life of this icon, not as a tragic figure, but as a powerful guide for anyone seeking to live more authentically and fearlessly. The book explores the lessons embedded in Kahlo's choices, revealing how her approach to pain, love, and identity can inspire a bolder existence.

Narrator: Frida Kahlo’s life was defined by pain, both physical and emotional. It began at age six with a bout of polio that left her with a permanently damaged leg, earning her the cruel nickname "Peg Leg Frida." But the defining event occurred when she was eighteen. In 1925, the bus she was riding was struck by a trolley, and a steel handrail impaled her body, shattering her spine, pelvis, and leg. Her boyfriend, who was with her, recalled finding her naked, her clothes torn off, covered in blood and, strangely, shimmering gold dust that had spilled from another passenger's bag.

This accident ended her dream of becoming a doctor and sentenced her to a life of over thirty surgeries and near-constant agony. Yet, it was during her long, bedridden recovery that her artistic career was born. Her parents set up a special easel and placed a mirror above her bed. Alone with her reflection, she began to paint. As she famously said, "I paint myself because I am so often alone, because I am the person I know best." For Frida, art was not just a distraction; it was a direct translation of her suffering. Her paintings are filled with broken columns representing her spine, and nails piercing her skin. She transformed her pain from a private burden into a public, visceral art form, proving that one's deepest wounds can become the source of one's greatest creative power.

Narrator: Frida Kahlo projected an image of unshakable confidence, but the book reveals this was often a cultivated performance—a mindset she chose. In 1932, while in Detroit with her world-famous husband, the muralist Diego Rivera, a reporter from the Detroit News condescendingly asked her, "Are you a painter, too?" Without missing a beat, the then-unknown Frida replied, "Yes. The greatest in the world." She later told the same reporter, with a twinkle in her eye, that while Diego did "pretty well for a little boy... it is I who am the big artist."

This boldness was a tool she used to write her own story. She embraced what society deemed flaws, famously accentuating her unibrow and mustache in her self-portraits. Her iconic style—the traditional Tehuana dresses, flowing skirts, and elaborate braids—was another layer of this performance. It was a celebration of her Mexican heritage, but it also practically served to conceal her damaged leg and the orthopedic corsets she wore. She turned the act of dressing into an art form, a daily ritual of self-creation that allowed her to control her narrative and present herself to the world on her own terms, not as a victim of her circumstances, but as the powerful author of her own image.

Narrator: The central relationship of Frida's life was her passionate, tumultuous, and often toxic love for Diego Rivera. Davis argues that if there was one true love of Frida’s life, it was Diego. Their bond was a collision of two explosive forces. He was her artistic champion and mentor; she was his "chiquita," the woman he claimed to love more than any other. Yet, their marriage was rife with infidelity. Frida tolerated many of Diego's affairs, but one betrayal nearly broke her. In 1934, she discovered he was having an affair with her own younger sister, Cristina.

The heartbreak was immense. Frida cut off her long hair, which Diego adored, and for a time, she couldn't paint. This betrayal led her to one of her most famous declarations: "I have suffered two grave accidents in my life. One in which a bus knocked me down… The other accident is Diego." The comparison is staggering—she equated the emotional devastation of his infidelity with the physical trauma that nearly killed her. Despite this, and despite their eventual divorce, they remarried just a year later. Their love was a cycle of pain and reconciliation, a testament to a bond so profound it could withstand even the deepest betrayals, proving that love is rarely simple and can be both the greatest source of strength and the deepest wound.

Narrator: Frida Kahlo refused to be categorized. Her identity was a radical and unapologetic construction of her own making. This was most evident in her fierce embrace of Mexicanidad, or her Mexican-ness. At a time when many upper-class Mexicans emulated European styles, Frida deliberately wore the traditional clothing of indigenous women as a political and cultural statement. She filled her home, La Casa Azul, with Mexican folk art and pre-Columbian artifacts. She even changed her birth year from 1907 to 1910 to align herself with the start of the Mexican Revolution, symbolically declaring herself a "daughter of the revolution."

Her refusal to be defined extended to her sexuality. Openly bisexual, she had numerous affairs with both men and women, including the sculptor Isamu Noguchi and the singer Chavela Vargas. She did not label herself or make a spectacle of her relationships; she simply lived and loved as she pleased. This unapologetic ownership of her heritage, her politics, and her desires was central to her being. She demonstrated that identity is not something to be found, but something to be actively and courageously built.

Narrator: The ultimate lesson from What Would Frida Do? is that a life lived boldly is not a life without pain, but one in which pain is transformed. Frida Kahlo's legacy is not just in her art, but in her defiant act of living. She took every hardship—her broken body, her broken heart, a world that tried to diminish her—and used it as raw material for a life of explosive color, creativity, and passion. Her final painting, a vibrant still life of watermelons, bears the inscription that became her final message to the world: "Viva la Vida"—Long Live Life.

Frida's story challenges us to look at our own scars, not as sources of shame, but as marks of a life being lived. It asks a powerful question: Are you merely enduring your reality, or are you, like Frida, using every color at your disposal to paint your own?