New Privileges, Same Country

October 21, 2016

I was born in a small town west of Mexico City called Tecalitlán. Teca, located in the state of Jalisco, has around 13,000 inhabitants. Though I hate to admit it, few things distinguish my pueblo from the next. If anything, Tecalitlán suffers from the same plight as the rest of Mexico: corruption, insecurity, poverty, and violence. I was only 6 years old when my family left for California; we followed in the steps of others who had left Teca in hopes of better prospects.


In Teca, poverty was the reality for my family. I grew up in a small two-story house near the center of the pueblo. The interior of my house was nothing elegant. The top floor was one concrete, windowless, shabby room separated by red curtains into smaller compartments. In the center was a huge bed enclosed by a thin, white sheet to keep the flies away. And at the edges were a run-down restroom and an old refrigerator. We didn’t have many decorations except for a few flowerpots scattered around the room; my mother did everything she could to beautify the place.

The bottom floor was where my mother worked. At first she owned a small restaurant selling tacos and quesadillas. When that didn’t bring in enough money, she began selling clothes. But the clothing business was too slow. So she opened a hair salon. Although her favorite career, it still didn’t bring in enough money. I remember my mother once saying “I wanted to buy a TV. I never had one when I was young. And I worked hard, days and nights, but I could never earn enough to buy a TV.”

As a child, our impoverished lifestyle never affected me; I just wanted to be happy. So at 6 years old, I did not comprehend why we had to flee our country. But as my mother described the movie theaters, malls, and electronic stairs (escalators) in the United States, the thought of living in el norte enchanted me. “I want to go to el norte and see my father,” I remember telling my mother ecstatically.

We left everything behind: our home, belongings, friends, and families to find a better future in a foreign land. The cross was not easy, but my mother’s hunger to provide a better future for my brother and I strengthened her will. And although brother and I crossed effortlessly, it wasn’t until two months later when we saw our mother again.

Now at 20 years old, I come back to the country that impoverished my family, privileged and educated. Although my family still struggles financially, we now own multiple TVs. And in Mexico I am reminded of my newfound privilege every morning that I wake up in the richest area of Mexico City, with a breathtaking view of mansions and green hills. I am reminded when I shower in hot water; when I wear brand-named clothes; when I wear expensive makeup; when I give money to children on the streets, children who used to be like me. It’s easy to get lost in the glitz and glam of my new lifestyle, but I must remember my roots.

A primary reason for my studying abroad in Mexico is to learn more about the inequality that plagues my country. I want to learn how to help people receive more opportunities, education, and job prospects—privileges I would never have had if my mother hadn’t risked her life to migrate. I must remember where I came from and be thankful of where I am now. But my gratitude should be shown through my actions, through helping my community advance.

Poverty and inequality is the reality for over half of the population of Mexico–though this number increases in southern regions, such as the state of Zitlaltepec, where 86 percent of residents live in poverty and 30 percent live in extreme poverty. Such stark poverty rates are the consequence of limited employment, education, and the discrimination faced by persons of indigenous ethnic origin. However, this issue is nothing new in Mexico—it stems from the era of colonization. And as I study abroad in Mexico, I take advantage of my history courses in order to understand how to best alleviate the inequality that affects not just Mexico, but all of Latin America.
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