Tag Archives: history

Huatulco

Editor’s Letter

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By Jane Bauer—

In the woods, we return to reason and faith. There I feel that nothing can befall me in life—no disgrace, no calamity, (leaving me my eyes,) which nature cannot repair. Standing on the bare ground—my head bathed in the blithe air, and uplifted into infinite space—all mean egotism vanishes. I become a transparent eye-ball; I am nothing. I see all. The currents of the Universal Being circulate through me; I am part or particle of God.
Ralph Waldo Emerson, Nature 1836

The month of May for me is always a time when I am changing gears. From October to April I work long hours, juggle many tasks and all the while try to move through the world with a smile.

As the busy season winds down in April and the temperature on the coast rises, my heartbeat softens, my muscles relax, and I come back into myself. I remember that there is no reason to rush. But who am I when I am not producing, organizing and planning? There is a meditation I like to do where I sit and close my eyes, I allow my mind to focus on my breath and then I imagine myself at younger stages of life. I sit like I did when I was 4 or 8 or 16. What is the essence of me? What is the essence of each of us when we strip away our tasks and obligations?

In May I get to enjoy leisurely mornings, long swims in the ocean or walks by the river with my dogs. With this slowing down I get to sit and contemplate my life’s purpose. Everything in nature exists in a symbiotic relationship with everything else: tree roots intertwine with fungi in the soil, nourishing flowers that feed bees, which pollinate fruit that sustains animals—and so the cycle continues. I recently read that nut producing trees don’t produce each year. In the years when there is an overpopulation of creatures that live on nuts, nuts will not produce and the population will be culled. How do the trees know? As a species do we trust in those cycles or are we pushing against them?

It is a cop-out to think our life’s purpose is amassing more stuff; homes, cars, financial security. While those things bring comfort do they really represent our purpose? I look at the tree outside my window; a large guanacaste. The sunlight flickers through its branches, a squirrel runs along a branch, a chachalaca hoots good morning, a magpie jay and a grackle screech at each other.

For me immersion in nature is as close as I feel to my life’s purpose. To just be and feel my soul as a part of something larger. Humans do not have dominion over nature, it has dominion over us and the sooner we accept that, we can stop struggling, let go, and enjoy it’s beauty.

Happy Summer,

Jane

 

Huatulco

From Baguettes to Bolillos: A Story of Cultural Exchange & Evolution

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By Kary Vannice—

Walk into almost any panadería in Mexico and you’ll notice it right away. The glass cases are full to bursting with colorful rows of conchas, cuernos, orejas, and empanadas. Trays are constantly being swapped out. It smells like sugar, yeast, and warm bread, and it feels very Mexican. And it is. But there is also something else going on that most people don’t think about.

Bread in Mexico did not always look like this. Before wheat became common, food was centered around corn. Wheat came later during the colonial period, and baking slowly developed from there. But a bigger shift happened in the nineteenth century, around the time of the French intervention in Mexico.

What changed was not so much the ingredients. These largely stayed the same. What changed was how things were made.
French baking brought a different level of precision to the process. Dough was handled differently, fermentation was more controlled, and techniques like layering and shaping became more intentional. These influences were adopted into the Mexican kitchen and affected the texture, consistency, and final result.

This French influence didn’t replace what already existed. It changed the way things were done.

A simple example of this is the bolillo. At first glance, it looks like a basic roll, but if you pay attention to the crust, the inside texture, and even the way it is scored, you can see the connection to the French baguette. Over time, it became a part of everyday life in Mexico. Today, it’s used for tortas, served at meals, and found just about everywhere. Most people wouldn’t think of it as French, but the influence is still there.

What happened next is what makes this interesting.
Mexican bakers didn’t try to copy French pastries exactly. Instead, they used those techniques as a starting point and built something new. This is how pan dulce really started taking shape. The variety that exists today didn’t come from just one tradition. It came from a system that allowed for experimentation.

Different regions created their own versions and varieties. Shapes, toppings, and recipes evolved over time. And this created the modern-day Mexican bakery culture that is both consistent and highly varied at the same time.

Another change that came with French technique is the focus on texture. Texture was always important in Mexican food, but these new methods expanded what was possible. After the incorporation of these techniques, softer interiors, crispy outer layers, and pastries that pull apart in layers became more common. These details may seem small, but they change how the food is experienced.
Today, the panadería is its own kind of space. It is not a French bakery, but it is not completely separate from that influence either. It runs on a structure that came from French technique, but everything about how it looks and feels is Mexican. There is more volume, more movement, and it is part of daily life, not something reserved exclusively for special occasions.

And this system is still changing. New techniques are introduced, ingredients shift, and bakeries and recipes adapt and evolve over time. At the same time, certain staples like the concha remain consistent, which keeps a sense of continuity and groundedness in the uniquely Mexican bread culture.

When people talk about this connection, they often call it influence. But that makes it sound like one culture affected another and that was the end of it. In truth, that’s not what really happened.
Instead, French baking provided a new framework. Mexican bakers used it, changed it, and expanded on it, and eventually made it their own. What exists now is something different. We tend to think of influence as something that moves in one direction. One culture gives, the other receives. But that’s not what happened here.
What started as a set of techniques became something entirely different once it moved through Mexican culture. It wasn’t just adopted; it was reworked into something that now feels completely original.

Most people won’t think about any of this when they walk into a bakery. They’ll just pick what looks good and move on with their day. But what looks simple on the surface is actually the result of a much bigger story that’s still unfolding in everyday life.

Perhaps after reading this, you’ll see more than just bread on your next trip to the bakery. You’ll see history, collaboration, and evolution in that bolillo or concha in your hand.

Bon appétit & buen provecho!

Kary Vannice is a writer and energetic healer who explores the intersections of culture, consciousness, and daily life in Mexico.

Huatulco, San Miguel de Allende

Imported Empires: Stories of the French Intervention in Mexico

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By Carole Reedy—

Everyone loves a story, and a novel set in a historical period can be a compelling way to learn about an era. While some nonfiction history books can seem dry and tedious, a well-researched and well-written novel can satisfy our desire for historical facts and figures.

This month I’ve chosen both fiction and nonfiction books that tell stories about the time when the European monarchs Maximilian and Carlota ruled Mexico. It is my hope that these books will deepen your understanding of their short reign (1864-1867).

North of the Mexican border, the American Civil War was raging while Mexican conservative exiles and clergy convinced Napoleon III (Louis Napoleon), after considerable political infighting, to place Maximilian of Austria on the throne of Mexico. Along with his wife, Carlota of Belgium, he would become emperor of a politically unstable nation already struggling with internal conflict. It was not the career path either Maximilian or Carlota anticipated.

While much of their story seems improbable, it truly makes for a tantalizing tale.

Looking back, it is easy to think, “How naïve.” Yet history reminds us that political power plays often lead to poor decisions. This is a story of ambition, political intrigue, and, ultimately, tragedy.

How did all this come about? Simply put: “The intervention was triggered by President Benito Juárez’s suspension of foreign debt payments, leading to a tripartite agreement between France, Spain, and Britain in 1861, though France ultimately pursued the deeper, imperialistic intervention.”

The Mexican Empire, as well as the reign of Maximilian and Carlota, came to an end with the execution of Maximilian by firing squad in 1867. He was only 35. Carlota had been suffering from depression to the point of “going mad,” but she lived to the ripe old age of 86, dying of pneumonia caused by a bout of influenza.

Maximilian’s last words are said to be, “I forgive everyone and ask everyone to forgive me. May my blood which is about to be shed, be for the good of the country. Viva Mexico! Viva la Independencia!”

The Last Prince of the Mexican Empire by C.M. Mayo

Author C. M. Mayo is an important voice in contemporary historical fiction. She has translated some of the finest Spanish-speaking writers of our time. In addition to Last Prince, she has written From Mexico to Miramar or Across the Lake of Oblivion: A Nonfiction Novela about a Fairytale: A Visit to the Emperor of Mexico’s Italian Castle. The intriguing title is enough to justify a reading.

Avid readers as well as visitors to this magic land will surely enjoy Mayo’s Mexico: A Traveler’s Literary Companion, which highlights the best of Mexico’s creative contributors who write about various aspects of Mexican life.

In addition to being a novelist, editor, and translator, Mayo is a poet, educated at the University of Chicago. Library Journal named Last Prince of the Mexican Empire one of the best books of 2009, just one of the many accolades the novel received.

The language of The Last Prince of the Mexican Empire is lyrical, highlighted by the shifting points of view of the cast of characters from an overworked kitchen maid to the Austrian archduke.

Blending the cultural and political aspects of the Empire combine here to make a compelling story. The added element of a young boy who childless Maximilian and Carlota want to adopt adds a human element. You’ll be introduced to many historical figures woven into this compelling narrative.

Maximilian in Mexico: A Woman’s Reminiscences of the French Intervention 1862-1867 by Sarah Yorke Stevenson

Sarah Yorke Stevenson (1847-1921) was an archeologist, Egyptologist, and suffragette who helped found the Penn Museum. In this meticulously researched book, she gives us one of the few published first-hand accounts of the time.

In her own words she says of her book, “By offering these pages to the public, my aim is not to write a historical sketch of the reign of Maximilian of Austria, nor is it to give a description of the political crisis that Mexico went through during that period. My only desire is to provide the reader with a point of view whose value lies in the fact that it is that of an eyewitness who was more than an ordinary spectator of a series of events that became one of the most dramatic episodes of modern times.”

What a find! I came across this while researching. Appears to be a gem that may give us a different interpretation of the era, motives, and personalities of the players.

With Maximilian in Mexico. From the Note-book of a Mexican Officer by Maximilian baron von Alvensleben

This reprint of an 1867 account offers a rare perspective from the viewpoint of a Mexican soldier who witnessed the collapse of the empire. Though less known than other works, it provides an intriguing firsthand glimpse into the turbulent final days of Maximilian’s rule.

This is available for just 150 pesos on Kindle, considerably more in hard cover or paperback editions.

The Crown of Mexico: Maximilian and his Empress Carlota by Joan Haslip

This highly acclaimed novel is rich in detail about the politics of both Europe and Mexico in the 1800s. It also takes us back to Maximilian’s upbringing and is sympathetic in tone to Carlota.

Each novel or history we read provides us with new facts and insightful perspectives into the personalities of Maximilian and Carlota. This is what many of us love about novels. They take us closer to the motives of the people involved. There are psychological and sociological factors that straight history often doesn’t—or can’t–reveal.

Maximilian was naïve and easily spurred on by his ambitious wife. He stayed on to the detriment of them both.

Phantom Crown by Bertita Harding

Yet another highly regarded novel that was written in 1934 and subtitled The Story of Maximilian and Carlota of Mexico. It is exactly that, a tragic and pathetic tale of this historic epoch. Carlota and Maximilian are surrounded by a populace that detested them at worst and pitied them at best. The country is torn apart, with liberal leader Benito Juárez in the north. (Benito Juárez was the constitutional president of Mexico. After the suspension of payments on the foreign debt in 1861 and subsequent French invasion, his government became a “roaming republic,” resisting from the north of the country). Napoleon’s ambition is unbridled. There was not much going in their favor.

One reader summed up succinctly all that we look for in a novel. “Wonderful history lesson, very informative, paints a wonderful picture of the times. It is a great read.”

So many issues, so many countries, personalities, conflicts, and ambitions. ‘Tis the way of the world. Next month we will highlight notable novels published this year. You will most likely find your favorite authors among them.

 

 

 

Huatulco, San Miguel de Allende

A Little Bit of France in Mexico

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By Alicia Flores—

Being Mexican is not just one thing. Mexican culture has been shaped by several influences, and one of the most fascinating is France. During the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, especially under Porfirio Díaz, French culture became associated with elegance, progress, and modernity. That influence can still be seen today in architecture, in food, and entire communities.

And if you know where to look, you can experience a little piece of France without ever leaving Mexico.

One of the most refined examples is Quinta Gameros in the northern state of Chuihuahua. This mansion was commissioned in 1907 by Manuel Gameros, a wealthy mining engineer who wanted a residence that reflected status and European sophistication. Designed by Colombian architect Julio Corredor Latorre, the house is one of the best examples of Art Nouveau architecture in Mexico. Its carved wood interiors, stained glass, and ornamental ironwork reflect the influence of French decorative arts that were fashionable at the time.

Construction began during the height of the Porfiriato, but history intervened. The Mexican Revolution forced Gameros to leave the country before he could truly enjoy the home. Over the years, the building has served multiple purposes, including as a federal building and later as part of the University of Chihuahua. Today, it houses a museum, where visitors can admire not only the architecture but also period furniture that helps recreate the atmosphere of early twentieth-century elite life in Mexico.

With the Torre Eiffel de Gómez Palacio, located in Durango, the French connection takes on a more symbolic form. This replica of the Eiffel Tower was installed in the early 2000s as part of a broader effort by local authorities to revitalize the city’s public spaces and create a recognizable landmark. Gómez Palacio has long been an industrial and railway hub, and the decision to build the tower reflects both civic pride and a desire to connect with a global icon of engineering and modernity.

Although it is not connected to Gustave Eiffel himself, the structure captures something powerful: the way the Eiffel Tower has become a universal symbol of innovation, romance, and aspiration. For residents, it represents more than a replica—it is a point of gathering, a visual landmark, and a reminder that global culture can be reinterpreted in local ways.

For a deeper and more immersive experience, the town of San Rafael , along with nearby Jicaltepec, offers a living legacy of French immigration in the state of Veracruz. Jicaltepec was established in 1833 as an agricultural colony by French settlers, who were drawn to the fertile lands nourished by the Nautla River. Many of these immigrants came from regions such as the Alps and eastern France, bringing with them farming techniques, baking traditions, and a strong connection to the land. They established agricultural communities, cultivating crops such as vanilla, citrus, and bananas.

Over time, the settlements of Jicaltepec and San Rafael grew into a unique cultural enclave where French and Mexican traditions blended. Even today, this heritage is visible in the local food. The region is known for its bakeries, as well as artisanal cheeses and dairy products influenced by French techniques, adapted to the tropical climate and local ingredients. Walking through the area, you can feel a quieter, more rural rhythm shaped by agriculture, tradition, and a history that connects Veracruz to Europe in a very tangible way.

These places remind us that Mexico’s identity is multi-faceted. French influence arrived during a time of ambition and transformation, leaving behind not only buildings but also traditions, flavors, and ideas that continue to evolve.

To travel through Mexico with this perspective is to see beyond expectations. It is to notice the details, the curve of an iron railing, the elegance of a façade, the taste of freshly baked bread—and to recognize that even here, far from France, its presence still lingers in quiet and surprising ways.

Huatulco, San Miguel de Allende

The Emperor’s Ghost in the Mural: The French Connection to Mexican Muralism

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By Randy Jackson—

On June 19, 1867, on a hill outside Querétaro called the Hill of the Bells, Emperor Maximilian, appointed by Napoleon III to rule a country that had never wanted him, faced a firing squad. His execution reverberated through Mexican and European history. Yet how that moment was understood was shaped not by those who witnessed it, but by those who painted it. In Europe, that response was immediate. In Mexico, it would take decades, passing through a classroom, before it found its voice on the great public walls of the Revolution.

In Paris, Édouard Manet’s series of paintings on the execution, collectively known as The Execution of Emperor Maximilian, demonstrated the power of art to shape historical memory. Painted from written accounts, they portrayed the event as a condemnation of Napoleon III’s imperial folly and were subsequently banned. In Mexico, the effects were slower and paradoxical. The execution did not silence Maximilian’s court painter; it freed him to walk into a classroom and change the course of Mexican art.
When Maximilian’s court collapsed, his retinue fled to the coast. One man, however, walked in the opposite direction, not toward a ship, but toward a classroom in the Mexican National Academy of Fine Arts.

Santiago Rebull
That man was Santiago Rebull, the official court painter to Emperor Maximilian, appointed to use art as an instrument of imperial legitimacy, to make a foreign emperor look like he belonged.

Rebull was born in 1829 to a Catalan father and a Mexican mother. His talent was recognized early. He won first place at the Academy of San Carlos in 1851 with his painting La Muerte de Abel. That victory earned him a scholarship to study in Rome, where he spent seven years, and what he learned there would shape Mexican art, passing through his hands to the students who would later paint the Revolution.

In Rome, at a Catholic arts school, he learned the techniques and principles of the Nazarene Movement. The Nazarenes believed art should serve a moral or religious purpose, and their major project was to revive the medieval art of fresco painting. It was a tradition built for walls, designed to tell stories to anyone who stood before them.

Rebull returned to Mexico in 1859 and, within two years, had risen to Director of the Academy of San Carlos. In 1865, he painted the official portrait of Emperor Maximilian – Retrato de Maximiliano. The Emperor was so pleased that he appointed Rebull as court painter and awarded him the Order of Guadalupe, the Empire’s highest honour.

Within two years, the firing squad on the Hill of the Bells ended that empire. Rebull returned to the classroom carrying everything Europe — and the Empire — had taught him.

The Protégé: Rivera at San Carlos
Diego Rivera was born in Guanajuato in 1886, nineteen years after the firing squad on the Hill of the Bells. When he arrived at the National Academy of Fine Arts at San Carlos as a student at the age of ten, Santiago Rebull was still teaching there.

As director of the Academy and as an instructor who took personal interest in the young Rivera’s progress, Rebull brought his influence to bear beyond technique. He transmitted the Nazarene conviction that scale gave art its purpose. Frescoes were consequential, not just because of their size, but because their ambitions were monumental. Art was meant to instruct, to elevate, to speak to anyone who stood before it. Not for palace staterooms, but for the public walls.

As important as Rebull was to the painting style Rivera came to create, there were two other notable instructors at the Fine Arts Academy of San Carlos.

Félix Parra was a trailblazer in depicting Mexico’s pre-Hispanic past with the dignity usually reserved for emperors. Parra’s painting, Episodes of the Conquest, depicted the brutality of the Spanish conquest of the Aztecs. For a young Rivera, it was likely the first time he saw Mexican history treated as something proud and worthy of monumental art.

The other notable instructor was José María Velasco, arguably the greatest landscape painter in Mexican history. With paintings like The Valley of Mexico from the Hill of Santa Isabel, Velasco taught Rivera how to organize a massive, sprawling horizon into a coherent, balanced composition. It was a skill that would serve Rivera well when his canvas became walls and mountains and valleys were replaced by the epic history of Mexico.

By the time Rivera left the Academy at the age of twenty, he had spent half his life under the tutelage of these old masters. He had become a formidable talent recognized by these men, significant artists in their own right. Rebull famously remarked of his student: “He draws as well as I do, and he has a better sense of colour.”
But his education was not finished. Like Rebull before him, Rivera left for Europe on a Mexican government scholarship, spending years in Spain, France and Italy. What he found there, the Cubists of Paris, the great fresco cycles of the Italian Renaissance, only deepened what Rebull had taught him.

The art that would come to define Mexican national identity, defiant, indigenous, and revolutionary, returned home with Diego Rivera. Mexico gained something unexpected from the defeat of the French-appointed emperor. Hidden in plain sight on those great public walls, in the very conviction that art belonged to the people who stood before it, was the ghost of a court painter who had once made a foreign emperor look like he belonged.

Randy Jackson blends local reporting from the perspective of a seasonal Huatulco resident with explorations of life and change in Huatulco, Oaxaca and Mexico.

Huatulco, San Miguel de Allende

The Role of Horses in the Spanish Conquest of Mexico

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By Jan Chaiken and Marcia Chaiken—

When Hernán Cortés and his expeditionary force first arrived near present-day Veracruz in 1519, the ships from Spain carried about 500 soldiers, along with horses, cannons, and other military supplies. At that time, horses had been extinct in Mesoamerica for thousands of years. As a result, the Indigenous Aztecs—who had never seen similar animals—experienced awe, fear, and confusion, with some early accounts suggesting that the horse and rider were perceived as a single, unfamiliar being. Some Indigenous communities reportedly made offerings to horses or used captured horses as sacrifices to their gods.

The Spaniards capitalized on this reaction by staging carefully choreographed military demonstrations to intimidate the population. Mounted conquistadores proved to be a highly effective military force against native foot soldiers. They were deployed in formations now known as cavalry—large mounted units capable of pursuing and overtaking enemies on foot. Horses were also used to transport cargo and supplies, as well as to control and move captured Aztecs. As soon as new territory was secured, the Spanish established horse-breeding farms in preparation for future expeditions.

Cortés quickly recognized that the ruling Aztec Triple Alliance was deeply resented by many of its subjects and that other Indigenous groups were long-standing enemies of the Aztecs. He formalized alliances first with the Totonacs near the Gulf Coast and later, inland, with the Tlaxcaltecs. The Tlaxcaltecs became loyal and indispensable allies, supplying tens of thousands of warriors. In return, they were granted key privileges, including the right to ride Spanish horses, carry Spanish weapons, and continue governing their own settlements autonomously.

When the Spanish first entered the Aztec capital of Tenochtitlan, the Tlaxcaltecs accompanied them on horseback and helped take hostages, including the ruler Moctezuma II. The Aztecs revolted and rapidly adopted tactics and technology to counter the horses’ advantages. They lured cavalry into narrow causeways, mountain trails, or swampy areas, fired stones and arrows at horses as well as riders, and developed specific shouts and whistles to signal tactical opportunities.

After the eventual Spanish conquest, Indigenous people incorporated horses into their cultures, using them for transportation and labor. Even today, in Mayan communities such as Todos Santos in Guatemala, residents maintain elaborate—and sometimes dangerous—traditions of drunken horse racing, which they consider an important cultural expression.

While the conquistadors’ use of horses in war against the Aztecs is highly dramatic and graphically portrayed in films and books, horses and other livestock brought by the Spanish may also have introduced a far more lethal, invisible agent—Salmonella enterica. Some historians argue that Europeans brought fatal diseases to the New World, including smallpox. Recent DNA analysis has shown that one of the most widespread diseases to wipe out vast numbers of Aztecs and other Indigenous people in Mexico was caused by the bacterium Salmonella enterica. The disease wreaked havoc on the digestive systems of those infected and was often lethal among populations with no prior exposure. The bacteria spread through food and water contaminated with fecal matter—often originating from livestock, including horses. It may be that horses themselves were among the most powerful, if unwitting, agents of conquest in Mexico.

Image: Hernán Cortés received by emissaries of Tlaxcala, Codex Duran, 1579, Biblioteca Nacional de de España. Source: Noticonquista Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México (UNAM)

Drs. Marcia and Jan Chaiken have been married for 62 years and have published many justice system research reports together.

 

Huatulco, San Miguel de Allende

Chinese New Year and Mexico’s Forgotten Past

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By Kary Vannice—

The presence of Chinese New Year in Mexico is not a new-age novelty or recent cultural appropriation. It’s steeped in history and honors the tens of thousands of Chinese immigrants and their descendants’ migration story that started over a century ago. A story that unfolded through cheap labor recruitment, entrepreneurship, discrimination, expulsion, adaptation, and survival. To understand why Chinese New Year has a place in Mexico’s public calendar, it’s important to understand the impact that Chinese immigrants have had upon Mexican history.

Chinese immigration to Mexico began during the presidency of Porfirio Díaz. Railroads were expanding, mining operations were growing, and agricultural production was increasing, and like many countries undergoing rapid development, Mexico faced a labor shortage.

Chinese workers, primarily from Guangdong province in southern China, began arriving in Mexico in the 1880s and 1890s. Most didn’t come directly from China, they were already working in countries like United States, Canada, and Southeast Asia. Because of this, they were actively sought out by labor recruiters to work in northern Mexico.

By the early 1900s, it was estimated that there were between 13,000 and 20,000 Chinese immigrants living in Mexico, with the highest concentrations in northern states such as Sonora, Baja California, Sinaloa, and Coahuila. These numbers were small relative to Mexico’s total population, but their presence was highly visible in certain northern regions.

Chinese immigrants tended to settle where economic opportunity was most accessible, working in agriculture, railroad construction, mining, and commerce. Mexicali, in northern Baja California, became one of the most significant centers of Chinese settlement. Over time, Mexicali developed La Chinesca, a neighborhood that became home to Chinese businesses, associations, and families. At its peak, Chinese residents made up the majority of Mexicali’s population, and La Chinesca was considered one of the largest Chinese communities in Latin America.

Many Chinese men married Mexican women, forming families that blended language, customs, and traditions. Chinese businesses became permanent fixtures of local economies. This transition from laborers to neighbors marked a turning point in Chinese-Mexican history, and not a positive one.

What had been tolerated, even welcomed, began to be seen as a social and economic threat. Anti-Chinese sentiment began to grow, in the aftermath of the Mexican Revolution.

By the 1920s, anti-Chinese movements had gained momentum, particularly in Sonora. Chinese immigrants were accused of unfair business practices, economic exploitation, and moral corruption. Propaganda portrayed them as unclean, dangerous, and incompatible with Mexican identity. Because of this, women who had married Chinese men were also targeted and portrayed as immoral, corrupted, or disloyal to their nation. These women were publicly shamed, pressured to dissolve marriages, and stripped of all social standing.

Several Mexican states passed laws that banned marriages between Chinese men and Mexican women, restricted where Chinese people could live, and limited the types of businesses they could operate. And these laws named the Chinese immigrants explicitly.

The same Mexican government that once encouraged Chinese immigration to help modernize Mexico, just a few decades later, labeled Chinese migrants as undesirable and even dangerous. And between the late 1920s and early 1930s, thousands of Chinese immigrants were expelled from Mexico, often with little warning and minimal legal protection. Entire families were affected. Mexican wives were forced to choose between remaining in Mexico or following their husbands to China. Children born in Mexico were deported to a country they had never known.

The Chinese population in Mexico dropped sharply. Thriving communities that had taken decades to build were dismantled in a matter of years. By the mid twentieth century, the once visible Chinese presence in many parts of Mexico had almost disappeared. Some families returned decades later. Others assimilated quietly into the local culture, and their histories and stories were lost…or deliberately forgotten.

And yet, not everything disappeared.
In Mexicali, Chinese-Mexican cuisine continued to evolve, becoming a defining feature of that city’s identity. Old world Chinese recipes were adapted to regional tastes and ingredients. What began as a way for families to survive became local tradition. Today, Mexicali is known nationally for its Chinese food, even by people who know little about how or why it came to be.

In recent years, Chinese migration to Mexico has increased again, though under very different circumstances. According to Mexico’s 2020 census, there are just over 10,000 Chinese-born residents living in the country today. Migration authorities report a steady rise in temporary and permanent residency permits issued to Chinese nationals since 2019.

This contemporary migration is driven by trade, manufacturing, education, and globalization rather than labor recruitment. Some arrive to work in Chinese-owned factories tied to North American supply chains. Others come seeking opportunity, stability, or a jumping off point to countries like the United States or Canada.

Alongside this renewed presence has come a renewed visibility. Chinese New Year celebrations in Mexico today are not just cultural performances. They are acts of recognition. Chinese immigrants are part of the history that shaped this nation, and their story, like so many migration stories, includes welcome and rejection, contribution and contention, loss and renewal.

The red lanterns and dragon dances seen in communities around Mexico are not a new chapter in that story, they’re what remains visible after more than a century of perseverance, persecution and integration.

Kary Vannice is a writer and energetic healer who explores the intersections of culture, consciousness, and daily life in Mexico.

Huatulco, San Miguel de Allende

Four Fashionable Mexican Heads of State

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By Marcia Chaiken and Jan Chaiken —

Fashion statements have been made for millennia by the Heads of State in Mexico. Whether in pre- or post-Columbian eras, the most important political Mexican figures have always signaled their relationship with the common people (and sometimes with their gods) with their attire. Here are the fashion statements made by four of the most known.

King Pakal the Great, (aka K’inich Janaab Pakal), who ruled over Palenque from age 12 for 68 years until his death in 683, may be best known for interpretations of engravings on his sarcophagus that led him to be called the Mayan astronaut or time traveler. The engravings show him sporting paraphernalia that looks like space flight equipment. But whether he was human or extraterrestrial, his funeral dress clearly indicates that he was considered more than a mere mortal. Adorned with a king’s ransom of jade, from his death mask to the multiple ear pieces, necklaces, bracelets, and rings, even in death he was an impressive sight. The jade mask is most startling because of the inlay of obsidian “eyes”.

Many engravings of Mayan rulers show them wearing elaborate headdresses. But anthropologist Alyce de Carteret described the primary fashion piece of Mayan rulers: “A bark-paper headband adorned with a diadem of jade or shell was bound to the heads of rulers the day they acceded to the throne.” However, existing clay figures of Pakal show him wearing a bird mask, a headdress of quetzal feathers and a long elaborate gown decorated with necklaces of jade. We can surmise that the gown was made from finely woven cotton, since only the wealthiest Mayans could afford that material.

Montezuma (aka Moctezuma II) was the 9th ruler of the Aztec Empire and was the head of state for eighteen years until his death in 1520. Unlike Pakal whose living attire requires some conjecture, Montezuma was well known to the conquistador Cortez, who arrested him.

He was an impressive fashion figure on first formal meeting. His headdress alone was spectacular and described as including “the green upper tail coverts of the quetzal bird, the turquoise feathers of the cotinga, brown feathers from the squirrel cuckoo, pink feathers from the roseate spoonbill, and small ornaments of gold.” His mantle or cape was completely embroidered in primary colors, and the designs depended on the day, the audience and the ceremony he was attending. He rarely wore the same outfit twice, keeping a small army of embroiderers constantly busy. His outfit was completed with a loincloth and sandals – some of jaguar skin, most with jewels.

For the most solemn occasions, much of the finery was omitted, and Montezuma wore a simple loincloth and a dark cape decorated with skulls. After his arrest, Montezuma was not required to wear today’s orange jump suit but rather continued as a figurehead under Spanish rule and wore his diminishing costumes until he died of his wounds after an uprising of his former subjects.

Empress Carlota (née Princess Charlotte of Belgium) was the one and only empress of Mexico for a very short reign from 1864 to 1867. She and her husband Maximillian were placed on the throne by Napoleon III. Given their very progressive ideas about educating and raising up the Mexican populace, they were quickly deposed and Maximillian was shot.

Although the royal couple’s ideas about ruling Mexico were violently rejected, Carlota’s fashion sense was much more captivating. Given her wish to become the benefactor of “her people,” she began to combine European fashion with the costume of the hoi polloi of Mexico. Although the wide skirts and rich materials were retained, the bodice of her dresses and overskirt resembled the china poblana traditional dresses worn by Mexican women – especially on occasions celebrating Mexican identity. She also adopted the bright primary colors of Mexican dress.

Her rule was short-lived but her incorporation of Mexico’s traditional styles into high fashion has lived on. Many of the high-fashion designers of Mexico today merge traditional embroidery or decorations into ultra-modern designs. Just walk down Avenida Presidente Masaryk in CDMX today, and fashions based on Carlota’s innovations come alive.

Presidente Claudia Sheinbaum The first woman president in Mexico, who took office almost two years ago, is scrutinized for fashion as no president ever before. She uses this attention to benefit women all over Mexico. For ceremonial occasions, in addition to her presidential sash, she often wears replicas of dresses from different regions of the country including the huipil, the china poblana, the Tehuana (from Oaxaca) and the Chiapaneca. The many artisans who create and decorate her dresses are publicly noted and often find themselves swamped with orders from ordinary citizens and beyond.

Of course, given her intense meeting and travel schedule, she also slips into comfortable pants and blouses. But the styles are business-appropriate. And unlike the wives of many heads of state, she avoids expensive designer clothes and instead wears fashions that are affordable for the majority of working Mexicans.

From Pakal to Sheinbaum, the Mexican heads of state have had distinctive styles worn as political statements. Some such as Carlota and Montezuma have had ruinous careers. Some such as Pakal and hopefully Sheinbaum have made positive contributions to lives of their people. All will likely be remembered for what they wore.

Drs. Marcia and Jan Chaiken have been married for 62 years and have published many justice system research reports together.