Allison’s blog

In places like Chamula and Zinacantan, which are both Mayan villages located in the mountains of Chiapas,
“fashion” does not exist.  There are no latest trends or hottest fads, all of the clothing is traditional, hand-made, and seemingly everlasting.  In other Mexican cites, such as Merida, it seemed like name brands were a staple of wealth.  In fact, Danielle’s host brother, who was always sporting Abercrombie, asked why we don’t wear name brand clothing.  Leaving aside his assumption that we had the money to do so, he surprise at the apparent situation clued me in to how it was almost a given that if you had money you wore name brands. At first I was surprised by this statement, but then I realized that it is the exact same in the US.

            Personally, I have no money.  Therefore, personally, I do not wear name brands.  However, I do not notice when other people do.  This might be because I am not familiar with designer clothing, but in reality I think it is because I don’t see designer clothes as a measure of wealth.  This may be because I grew up in way that afforded me to be always surrounded by people who did take pride in their ability to wear name brands, therefore it became a norm.  Or this may be because I am aware of places like Ross, where you can “dress for less.”  However, in other places and in the minds of other people from the United States, an Abercrombie shirt might give the same impression that it apparently gives to Mexicans – wealth and high social status.

            Therefore, in places where they lack this social divider, like Chamula and Zinacantan, is there less social stratification?  Or does their social stratification take a different form?  I believe the answer is that it takes a different form.  Instead of the wealthy people being those that wear the most fashionable and more expensive clothes, the upper class is made up of the politicians and religious leaders.  In this nonmaterial society, it is the power – not the possessions – a person has that makes them “upper class.”  Now, it may be true that these politicians and religious leaders also make more money than the rest of the people in town, which allows them to buy the bigger houses and material possessions, but I still think that it is their role in the society that gives them their social status. 

            I think that the uniformity among the dress of the Chamulanotecos and Zinacantecos is a good thing.  Not only does it preserve a piece of their cultural history, it removes an entire realm of material temptations that could infiltrate the society. Also, in the case of the women of Zinacantan it allows them to become expert weavers and provide money for their family thru the sale of their work. Without frivolous fashion, the people can spend their money, hopefully, on more useful possessions – things other than Abercrombie polos.

            The name “bull fight” itself is ironic, because in reality the bull does not have a chance at the fight at all.  Before we went, I knew they killed the bull in the process of the fight. I do not agree with this at all, but at the same time I didn’t think that physically seeing an animal die would have as profound of an affect on me as it did. 

            I am not an “animal person.” I don’t like the stray dogs in the street.  I’m not drawn to little baby chicks running around on the farms of Mayan families. I am also usually pretty good at turning off my emotions.  I thought this combination would allow me to tolerate (not enjoy, but tolerate), the bull fight.  However, after the fourth bull that I saw die, I could not take it anymore.  It seemed amazing that people were cheering and screaming, “mátelo” aka “Kill it!”  It became obvious that growing up in the Mexican culture had completely desensitized the people surrounding us from this atrocity.  There were 5 year old children sitting in front of us that were handling it better than me.  But for us, as well as the other obviously non-mexican woman sitting behind us, the sight of an animal being slaughtered in front of our eyes, while people cheered, was nauseating – and not quite the same as seeing violence on TV. Apparently watching violent television programs and playing violent video games doesn’t totally strip you of your humanity.

            Of the four matadors that we saw, one of them was female.  According to our host parents, and as made pretty obvious by the rest of Mexican society, this is quite rare.  After she killed the bull, it was obvious that she was the crowd favorite.  People stood and cheered while waving hankies in the air. Was it a bigger accomplishment for her to kill the bull than it was for a man to kill the bull?  Or was she merely better than the men?  Obviously I am not accustomed to the techniques of bull fighting, so I have no way of knowing for sure, but I am almost positive that it was a combination of a lot of factors that made her applause so much greater than the applause for the others.  Maybe the men were cheering louder because they were impressed that she could pull it off.  Maybe the women were cheering because they saw themselves personified through her.  Maybe the little girls were cheering because she gave them a strong, female role model.  No matter the reason, it was obvious that her triumph had pulled the heart strings of many people. And for that split moment I found myself cheering as well.  Not because she killed a bull, but because I too wanted to show my support for a women who was publicly breaking down the gender barrier.

            We left the fight early and I do not regret the decision at all.  It wasn’t the blood that sickened me, rather than the frivolousness of it all.  Yes, it is tradition, but there was obviously a way to continue the tradition without killing the bull.  In fact, it might take even more skill to perform to same “art” if the bull was not weakened by the loss of mass amount of blood.  Part of me feels guilty for merely supporting such a cause.  Even though bull fights are a large part of Mexican culture, I did not enjoy the experience.  However, it did enlighten me to an atrocity that is allowed to be continued.  So if nothing else, I got awareness out of my one hundred and fifty pesos.

            A couple of weeks ago I visited MACAY, which is a modern art museum located in Centro.  When we walked into the courtyard there were many obscure sculptures, but together the created a serene atmosphere – an atmosphere that should exist at an art museum.

            We wandered around going into each of the rooms, each one was dedicated to a specific artist.  My favorite was the room by Fernando Castro Pacheco, the same man who did all of the artwork in the Governor’s Palace.  As we wandered some more I began to get antsy, because I do not really enjoy museums.  In fact, I got very antsy and didn’t really examine the last couple of rooms all that much.  But the one thing that I did get out of the museum is that art is universal.  Unlike the other museums where I read the explanations in Spanish, translated it to English in my mind, and then thought about it, in MACAY the comprehension is automatic.  No matter what language someone speaks, everyone will understand their art – well maybe not understand per say, but at least be able to form their own conclusion about what it is supposed to represent.

            Some of the artwork made me happy, some of it slightly disturbed me and some made me very confused.  But the point is that it all had an effect on me – whether good or bad – and it would have an effect on everyone that walked through the museum, no matter what language they spoke.

We all know that stereotypes exist and we all – most likely – are guilty of stereotyping other people.  But I doubt that all people realize that they too are stereotyped, well at least I didn’t.  The second week in Merida I attended a conversation class held at CIS (my school) that is meant for native English speakers to help people from Merida with their English and vice versa.  Our class facilitator had a list of controversial topics that she read aloud and we were supposed to discuss these topics.  The first topic she read was, “All Americans are rich.”  We (Ursinus students) were all taken aback by this comment, because it seemed to be so obviously false.  However, when one of my peers tried to refute the statement, her argument was “Not all people in the US have money; I knew a lot of people who had to work before they could go to college.”  I was even more taken aback.  Was she serious?  Having to work before college does not constitute poverty.  Not only had she made the stereotype seem even more correct, we now looked ignorant as well. 

            Over my time in Merida my teachers, host family and the vendors in the streets have all made it clear that they think we all have money to throw around.  I don’t think that my teachers and host family actually believes the stereotype that all Americans have money, but they do believe that all American college students who are studying abroad have money. 

            This week our toilet was on the fritz, until finally it stopped working.  I told my host mother and she was quite frazzled because “this has never happened before” – which I find hard to believe.  She then said that we must have flushed toilet paper. I told her no, we didn’t, but she refused to believe me kept up the accusation.  Finally, asked if it was okay if she called a plumber and we said yes, then she asked if it was okay if we pay for it “because it costs 300 pesos ($30) just for him to come.”  The fact that she said this to us as we were walking out the door in combination with the fact that I wasn’t expecting it made me just say, “Oh yea, I guess so.”  After we got to school I asked our director if this was something that we should really be paying for and he said “No, even if you did flush toilet paper it’s not your responsibility.” So he called her that afternoon.  The next day at breakfast she asked if the toilet was working and I said yes.  Then the conversation switched to what we did the previous night and she asked how we got home.  When I said that we took the bus she asked “Why?” I told her because the bus is cheaper than a taxi.  Then she said, “Yea, but for you it’s nothing.” 

            As soon as this comment left her mouth my view had changed.  I don’t think that she wanted us to pay for the toilet because it was our fault necessarily, but because she thought that since we are American therefore we obviously have tons of money, therefore paying for a plumber is no big deal.  She later said that our director had called her and said that we had complained about the toilet and all I said was, “Yes.”  I didn’t want to elaborate because I was so angry and I knew if I opened my mouth anymore it would be seen as talking back and rude.  So I just left it at that.

            I don’t know if I have ever really realized that people stereotype me.  But after thinking about it, I am sure that the school I go to, the people I am friends with, and clothes I wear all contribute to people’s preconceived notions about the way my personality is.  On some levels I believe that stereotyping is inevitable, but on the other hand I think that if we mentally catch ourselves stereotyping others and realize the large possibility that our categorization is wrong, we would all be better off.

            Between the fast food and video games, obesity has become an expanding problem in the United States, but apparently in Mexico as well.  First of all, Mexico has not escaped the fast food epidemic.  There is either a Burger King, McDonald’s or KFC about every other block, although no Taco Bell.  Second of all, it seems like a lot of the food – empanadas, panuchos, marquesitas, and tacos – are fried.  Third of all, I am sure that the extreme Coca-Cola consumption does not help the problem.

            Of course I don’t know the actual statistics, but walking down the street it seems like the average build is rotund and of short stature.  This made me wonder if there is the same pressure in Mexico, as there is in the US, to be thin – gauntly thin.  As I began to look around I noticed that all the billboards and advertisements had women that did not look Mexican at all.  In fact, they looked almost the opposite – tall, thin, and sometimes blonde.  This observation was reinforced at the Carnaval parade, where all of the girls on the floats had picture perfect bodies. 

            In the United States, dieting is in.  With all of the trendy diets, weight loss pills, and health oriented restaurants, it will be seen in the near future if the obesity rate decreases.  However, in Mexico being healthy does not seem to be important.  There seems to be almost no healthy alternatives, besides the occasional Subway, to Mexican cuisine.  Of course, this could be because of tradition, but I think it is because of a shared feeling of apathy toward health. 

            Therefore although Mexico seems to have the same pressure, especially on women, to have a lean physique, people here seem to be more able to ignore the hoopla.  That, or they are not willing to give up their panuchos, marquesitas and Coca-Cola.

As simple as a concept as it is, I never fully realized that pretty much everyone in Mexico, is Mexican.  It is such an odd concept that people can tell that I am not from here by merely looking at me – not to mention when I open my mouth and attempt to speak.  Here, no one asks about one another’s ethnicity, because everyone is Mexican and no one wants to admit their indigenous roots.  I never fully appreciated diversity until it no longer existed. 

            Today Roger, a Spanish teach at my school in Merida, asked me what ethnicity I was and I told him that I am Armenian.  Then he asked if my parents were born there, and I said that my mom was born in Armenia, but my dad was born in the States. He replied, “Oh, tu eres una mezcla.”  Meaning that I am a mix of different ethnicities. I tried to explain that I am not a mix because my dad is Armenian as well.  But somehow the concept got lost in translation.  I began to wonder if he did not understand because I was doing a poor job explaining or if in his mind “estadounidense” was an ethnicity.  Obviously I from the United States, but I am Armenian. 

            As I started to think about it, it seemed ludicrous that I had just had the realization that the United States is the one of only country in the world almost fully inhabited by immigrants (besides the Native Americans of course).   People from Spain are Spanish, people from France are French, people from Italy are Italian and what are people from the United States? We are Spanish, French, Italian, etc.  It was so simple, yet so foreign.  But then again, that seems to be the way that almost everything from the US is – foreign.

             

    Obviously illegal immigration from Mexico is a large problem, however it is also a large solution.  Illegal aliens who cross the border are not trying to “stick it” to the US by avoiding taxes.  In fact, they are not thinking about us at all.  They are thinking about their hungry children and sick parents.  Illegal aliens cross the border and work in the US by obtaining false documents and send much of the money that they make back to their families in Mexico.  They will work for longer hours and lower wages than American citizens are legally allowed.  This low pay keeps the price of goods low and the economy high.  Although many Americans will say that they are against illegal immigration, yet I doubt that they would be as adamant about paying more for products.

            On the other hand, illegal immigration does have its downside.  Since these people are not registered citizens they do not pay taxes.  Therefore when they go to the hospital or use community resources, it is the rest of the community that is paying for them.  Also, in the US today a high school diploma, or even a college education, is necessary for many more jobs than in the past years.   This means that there are fewer jobs for uneducated Americans, and the ones that are available are being filled by illegal aliens because employers do not have to give them the same rights or pay them as much money.

            Before coming to Mexico I logically understood the motivations behind illegal immigration.  Mexican citizens in need of money feel like they have more opportunities in the states.  However, I did not emotional comprehend.  Even though we have only been in Merida so far, and therefore have not seen true poverty, our day trips to the Mayan ruins have given me glimpses into a life that I have never imagined before.  I can honestly say that if I could not find a way to make money and knew that the livelihood of my family depended on me, I too would illegally immigrate to another country.  It is much easier to be righteous when it is not your loved ones at risk.

    When I think of the United States I think of a place that offers equal opportunity and the promise of a brighter future – because this is what I was taught to think.  In my time in Mexico I have noticed things, such as sexism and racism, that have made me thankful I live in the U.S. – but should I really be that thankful?  In class our teacher asked us if people in the U.S. were racist against Jews, and my immediate answer was no.  Then we talked about if there is gender equality, and my immediate answer was yes.  Later, I realized that my answers were not quite right.

            It is easy for me to say that people are not racist in the United States, because the people I have met in my lifetime are not.  It is easy for me to say that there is gender equality, because I personally have never felt devoid of an opportunity because I am female.  But, I have grown up in a bubble. It angers me to think that racism and sexism exist – therefore in my bubble I choose for them not to.  In my mind people are generally good, but this is not the case.  The U.S. isn’t the martyr nation I once thought it was. We have problems just like the rest of world. 

            Initially coming to Mexico, I thought I was going to realize how lucky I am to live in the U.S., but really what I realized is how oblivious I was to the problems that are in my own country.  Today at lunch I asked my mother why there are no female bus drivers, or police officers, or waiters.  She merely said she didn’t know.  It seemed as if the thought had never occurred to her, it was the norm and she found it odd that I would even ask such a question.  However, when I started thinking about it I realized that there will always be professions in which one sex is more predominant than the other.  Of course that doesn’t mean that I think it is okay for women or men to be banned from having certain jobs, but society creates working-world niches for both men and women to fit into and people are encouraged to stay within their own niche. 

            Coming from Montgomeryville, PA my life is not exactly that of the average person in the world.  I have been afforded certain things that many people don’t have – one of those things being the thought that the U.S. does not have the problems that other countries have.  However, I now realize that these problems are pandemic and we are not as righteous as I once thought we were.  

For culture class we took a trip to the Centro.  We had all been there many times before, but not in an educational manor.  As in most Central American cities, the main plaza is both literally and figuratively the center of the city.  In Merida, El Centro contains the house of the cities founder, Francisco de Montejo, the Main Cathedral and the Governor’s palace. 

 

The main cathedral is the oldest church on the mainland of Central America.  It also houses the largest indoor crucifix in the Americas.

In all of Mexico religion plays a large part in the lives of the people.  From the rosaries hanging from almost every public bus, to the graffitied virgin Mary on the side of one of my neighbor’s house – Mexico is an obviously Catholic country.  In culture class the other day I asked if there was any separation between church and state.  My teacher replied that technically there is supposed to be, but in reality there is not really.  I doubt the fact that there is a large enough party against the presence of religion in public schools to have it changed.

 

The governor’s palace is where the office of Ivonne Ortega Pocheco, the current gobernadora, is located. It is also the location of many paintings by Fernando Castro Pacheco.  Below is a picture of the inside of the courtyard of the palace:

 

The paintings are meant to tell the story of the Mayan people and the history of the Yucatan. Not only are they huge, but the way in which the artist, Fernando Castro Pacheco, depicts his subjects conveys a sense of struggle and oppression.

The picture above represents the struggle the exists between good (the eagle) and evil (snake). 

The picture above shows a Spanish conquistador and his indigenous wife, with their Mestizo child. Obviously the conquistadors were men, therefore they only had the option of the indigenous women. This interaction created a new race, "Meztizaje." In class we talked about how in Mexico, the racism is against indigenous people.  Although almost all Mexicans have indigenous roots, people do not identify with this heritage. In fact it would be insulting to call someone a Mestizo. There any many different social classes which are dependent on what percentage of your ancestors were indigenous.  There is also lots of social racism here.  It is quite obvious that all of the elite people live in the North, while all of the poorer people live in the south.  This social barrier used to have a physical barrier as well.  There used to be a wall that actually encased the center of the city and all of the Spanish conquistadors from the indigenous people, probably because for many years there were hostile feelings between the two groups.  Therefore this wall was physical protection which eventually evolved into social racism.

The above photo depicts the enslavement of the indigenous people. 

The Casa de Montejo was one of the first things built in the city.  Its location was of course in the square to show the importance of the conqueror.  Also to show Montejo’s superiority he has himself depicted standing on the heads of screaming natives on the stone above his entrance. The actually conquest of the Mayans took over 20 years and was extremely bloody.

    This past weekend we visited our first Maya ruin!  It was exciting to actually see what I know we will be learning about.  Our tourguide began to explain that Dzibilchaltun is not one of the most impressing ruins because before the site was protected, people would steal the stones to build their nearby city.  The special thing about Dzibilchaltun is that it is the only Mayan ruin that has windows.  These windows were thought to be used to view the winter and spring solstice. On the top of the ruin was a black vulture.  It was the perfect mix of Mayan culture and biology!

             In the middle of the town square was a catholic church, which the conquistadors built with the stones of the previous Mayan temple.  We knew it was a catholic church because of the large arch and open area.

            We swam in a cenote that was right next to the ruins.  It was not cavernous that the previous cenotes. The ground of the Yucatan peninsula is mostly limestone, therefore when the rock collapses and a void surface is created, a cenote is formed from the underground water system.

            Cenotes have been a main source of water for the Mayas, therefore we were not allowed to wear any sunscreen or bug repellent when we went in them.  The Mayans built their civilizations around these wells and believed that these cenotes were gates to the “other world” and would throw valuable items into them which many archaeologists have discovered.