Can I write a blog post on my phone? Well, let’s try.

If one were to gender Mexico, it’s unequivocally a man, hardened by an unattainable masculinity passed down from breadwinner to breadwinner; Yet, he’s fiercely protective and proud of his roots and heritage. He’s the muse I can never get enough of and continuously bourgeons with sweet memories. And although he’d never admit it, as his machismo would impede it, he has a gentler side that aches to break free and progress to be more sensible and vulnerable. What is it about his deeply flavored culture, marinated in decades of a bloody past and present, topping it all off with rich flecks of art and music? In a well-visited part of my heart, I nurture my love for him. I yearn to live in the curves of his mountains, vast in size and spirituality, built on ancestral fables and verdant tapestries. Or his bright blue beaches that shimmer day and night, basking in the warmth of happy people moseying about without a care in the world.

Ah, but arguably better for notorious city dwellers, and this one is in all seriousness… CDMX. No mames, if I don’t live in that capital at some point in my life, it’ll surely be a top three life regret. The city is alive on every esquina, coated in scents that remind you of a home your ancestors once lived in and sounds that are recognizable around the world— all renowned and unofficially trademarked.

And though its beauty is apparent, the country holds multiple truths at once. It’s rampant in femicides, frequently ranking high in annual studies, and its persistent drug violence makes it unlivable for many residents to even have one full day of peace, leading to mass migrations to the north, where they’re met with a bitter distaste and grotesque xenophobia. I could go on and on about the country’s poetic allure and various dimensions, but I’ll entrust the second half of the storytelling to my photos.

The reason for my visit this past year marked my life. Long story short and for the sake of the privacy and protection of members that were present, it was full of feminist historical contexts from all of Latinoamerica, complex emotions, and most importantly, hope for the future.

Ps. Don’t drink the water. Everyone says it and for a reason. When I visited in 2017, I ended up in the hospital, and again, when I last visited in November of 2023, I ended up in the hospital. The gurgling stomach-churning sickness is called Montezuma’s curse and it truly lives up to the ferocious being that he was.

Pps. How did it take me years of traveling to realize packing Imodium is essential??

Sent from my iPhone