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Huatulco, San Miguel de Allende

Growing Up Escaramuza: My Path Through Charrería

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By Ana Domínguez

My story as a rider began at age nine. I first learned to ride astride, using a standard saddle, and did not belong to any escaramuza—I simply enjoyed being around horses and riding.

Escaramuza means “skirmish” in Spanish, referring to a small fight or brief combat, but in a Mexican cultural context, it specifically describes a team of women performing synchronized, choreographed maneuvers on horseback, riding side-saddle in traditional attire, as part of the national sport of charrería (charro horsemanship). More than an equestrian ballet, it is a tradition that gallops with strength and color at the heart of charrería.

Charrería is considered one of the most complete sports, as it is practiced outdoors and engages every muscle in the body—from the moment the horse begins to move to the application of strength in direct interaction with the animals involved.

This equestrian discipline, unique in the world, represents the feminine expression of Mexico’s national sport: charrería. It is a visual spectacle that blends athletic discipline with the richness of Mexican folklore and history.

I had experience in multiple equestrian disciplines before becoming a high-performance escaramuza rider. I practiced show jumping and barrel racing. However, escaramuza fully met my expectations and became my sport.

Before the term escaramuza existed, there were women known as Adelitas or Soldaderas who participated during the Mexican Revolution—not only as nurses and followers, but also as brave combatants. They rode horses, led troops, and carried out heroic acts, showing strength and courage on horseback in both battle and military life. Alongside the charros, they were a fundamental part of the Revolution’s identity.

On the haciendas of that era, many women rode horses sidesaddle. This was not a sporting choice, but a social imposition: long dresses, etiquette, and the norms of the time required women to ride this way. However, this style of riding became the first expression of feminine horsemanship. Despite its limitations, many women developed remarkable skill in controlling their horses, maneuvering difficult terrain, and executing agile movements while maintaining the rigid posture society demanded. Unknowingly, they were laying the foundations of what would later become a formal discipline.

In 1921, the first formal charro associations were founded, and throughout the 1920s and 1930s, events and regulations were consolidated, giving rise to modern charrería. Although women did not yet participate officially, they began appearing in exhibitions during patriotic celebrations and regional festivities. The true starting point of the discipline came in 1953, when the first organized female groups began to be documented—groups that trained and performed mounted routines at charro events. These were exhibition performances, but for the first time, there was systematic work: uniforms, defined formations, regular training, and a shared objective.

During the 1960s, these groups multiplied and began to be called escaramuzas. By the end of that decade, it was common to see them included in the programs of state charro associations, although still without a formal rulebook.

Growth accelerated during the 1970s and 1980s, when escaramuza evolved from a purely visual spectacle into a competitive discipline. Teams from different states began training more rigorously, developing more complex maneuvers and seeking their own identity within charrería. This led to a decisive milestone: the publication of the first Official Escaramuza Rulebook in 1992 by the Mexican Federation of Charrería. This document formally established the rules still in effect today, including team size, required maneuvers, scoring system, penalties, attire, and the importance of puntas as a scored element. With this regulation, escaramuza transitioned from stylized performances to a formal sport.

From the 2000s onward, the discipline entered a phase of professionalization. Riding schools, specialized trainers, and youth and junior categories emerged. State, regional, and national championships— and the National Olympiads — incorporated escaramuzas as a core part of their programs. International recognition also grew, particularly within Mexican communities in the United States.

Finally, in 2016, with the recognition of charrería as Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity, escaramuza gained a new level of significance. It represents not only a sport, but a living symbol of Mexican identity and the only space within charrería where women hold a leading role—affirming their strength, discipline, and historical participation.

Escaramuza charra is the only charrería discipline performed exclusively by women. It combines equestrian precision, group synchronization, and a profound sense of tradition. While it may appear visually like a dance on horseback, it is in fact a highly technical routine that demands absolute concentration, mastery of the horse, and perfect coordination among the eight riders that make up the team. Each team consists of eight riders, one substitute, a trainer, and staff responsible for supervising the horses’ welfare and needs to keep them in optimal condition, as they are high-performance athletes.

Each rider uses a sidesaddle charro saddle (albarda charra), — the traditional feminine style inherited from the 19th century. Despite this seemingly restrictive position, riders perform tight crossings, rapid turns, and complex formations that require leg strength, lateral balance, and constant communication between horse and rider. During the approximately three-minute routine, the team executes a sequence of twelve pre-designed maneuvers (suertes). These include emblematic figures such as the fan (abanico), the flower (flor), the strainer (coladera), the ladder (escalera), and spins, all performed at high speed and with minimal distance between horses.

The routine begins with the puntas, a controlled sliding stop that leaves a straight mark in the arena and demonstrates the horse’s responsiveness, often contributing crucial points to the final score.

Riders wear long dresses in the Adelita style or traditional charra de faena attire, and on gala occasions, china poblana or formal charra dresses. Each outfit is crafted in accordance with Mexican traditions while honoring the style of our roots. All costumes are unique, handmade pieces with intricate embroidery, sometimes using gold and silver thread, and distinctive designs that set each one apart.

These garments are designed to allow mobility without compromising safety. Although visually striking, they are strictly regulated: they must not include elements that could catch, must cover the legs, and must coordinate with the team’s colors. The charro hat—rigid and decorated within specific guidelines—not only completes the attire but serves as the most important piece, functioning as a helmet. Along with it, a single ponytail adorned with a matching bow represents the group’s identity. Boots, made of suede or leather, are designed to withstand the lateral pressure of the foot when riding sidesaddle.

The horse also plays both a visual and functional role. Quarter Horses are commonly used, breeds known for their speed, agility, and ability to execute tight turns. Their presentation is sober and elegant, with carefully groomed manes and tails to ensure a uniform team appearance. Saddles and tack (reins, headstall, bit, protective gear, saddle) are identical across the eight riders, reinforcing uniformity. Beyond aesthetics, the true value lies in training: the horse must respond smoothly, remain steady during long stops, and maintain a consistent rhythm while the rider performs technical movements.

While the rulebook is detailed, the most important scoring elements include puntas, suertes, synchronization, and presentation and discipline. The final score is calculated by adding earned points and subtracting penalties. While details may vary annually according to the current regulations of the Mexican Federation of Charrería, the essence remains the same: to reward impeccable technique and group harmony.

Today, escaramuza has national and international presence. In Mexico, teams compete in state and regional championships and in the National Charro Championship—the country’s most important event—where the best escaramuzas from each state face off to determine the national champions.

There are also competitions and special exhibitions outside the Mexican Federation of Charrería. Although not officially affiliated, these events have had a significant impact on the discipline’s development, pushing teams to pursue greater difficulty and higher performance levels. The growth of children’s and youth categories has allowed girls as young as four or five years old to begin training, ensuring the continuity of the tradition.

At twelve, I had the opportunity to join the Tuitán team in Querétaro, where I was trained by Miguel Ángel García Castro, a key figure in my development as a rider. I learned the true art of riding and became a high-performance athlete. With Tuitán, we won several tournaments in our category, and a particularly meaningful achievement for me was winning the 2019 National Olympiads, where we earned one gold medal and one silver medal, with me serving as team captain.

Later, I was invited to join the Chiapas charra team—an organization with a strong trajectory that allowed me to continue growing. Eventually, I received another call to join Escaramuza Charra del Pedregal in Mexico City, trained by Heriberto Sáenz Romero, an outstanding coach who plays a crucial role in the continuation of my career. It is a team rich in tradition, history, and presence within the discipline, where I continue to develop my craft and my passion. Being part of maintaining the competitive and athletic level of this team is a great responsibility for me as a rider.

Charrería has given me incredible fulfillment and unforgettable moments both inside and outside the arena—sensations that are impossible to describe, filled with adrenaline, emotion, and joy. I would not trade it for anything. For me, the bond you form with your horse is deeply special. Being in contact with horses is the greatest feeling that exists, it is absolute peace and an unparalleled connection. A horse embodies nobility, strength, empathy and is simply unique.

Huatulco

Breaking Machismo’s Hold? Mexico’s Women After One Year of Sheinbaum

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By Kary Vannice

When Claudia Sheinbaum stood on stage last October as the first woman ever elected to lead Mexico, it felt like she had the potential to split open the bedrock of the male-dominated culture that has defined this country for centuries. Could Claudia’s administration be the wedge that finally pries the machismo foundation open and allows women’s rights to get a foothold in a nation long ruled by men?

In 2024, when Sheinbaum finally broke through the ultimate glass ceiling, it seemed like more than a political win. For many women it seemed like a chance to finally be seen, heard, and be granted rights that they had long been denied.

And they had very good reasons for those hopes. During the election Sheinbaum leaned into feminist themes, with slogans like “It’s time for women”, and made many political promises related to women’s rights and equality. Now, a year later, she’s had some wins and some losses on the front of equal rights and protection for women.

Her administration pushed forward a sweeping package of constitutional reforms that inserted the principle of substantive equality into the nation’s legal foundation. From now on, every law must be drafted with women’s rights in mind, and security and justice institutions are required to operate with a gender perspective.

For too long, women have been invisible in legislation and, at the same time, singled out and punished within the judicial system. As activist and lawyer, Patricia Olamendi, has often warned, “laws without gender perspective reproduce inequality.” This reform, at least on paper, is meant to interrupt that cycle.

Sheinbaum also launched a Women’s Rights Charter legislatively and published and publicly distributed a handbook to help women and girls understand their rights. Women now have a clear guide that says: these are my rights, and this is where I go when they are violated. In a country where, according to the National Institute of Statistics and Geography, 70% of women over the age of 15 have experienced violence at least once, that kind of information is more than just symbolic, it’s empowering.

Economically, she made another very significant move on behalf of older women. A pension program for women aged 60 to 64, one that prioritizes Indigenous and Afro-Mexican women first, and over time expands to reach more than three million by 2026. For women who spent their lives raising families, supporting communities, and often working informally without social security, this pension represents long overdue recognition of their contributions to households, and the nation as a whole. It will not erase decades of invisibility and neglect, but it finally acknowledges that their work matters.

These are a few of the “wins” for women in Mexico, but Sheinbaum’s first year has been one of both promise and contradiction. Despite making some movement forward, many of the old patterns remain — underfunded institutions, muted responses to violence, and a tendency to cast women’s activism as disruption rather than democracy.

For this, Sheinbaum has many female critics. “Being a woman does not necessarily embody progressiveness in the women’s rights agenda,” said Friné Salguero, director at the Simone de Beauvoir Leadership Institute, warning that while Sheinbaum’s election was historic, her agenda may not be sufficiently transformative. And there is evidence to back up her criticism.

Despite the promises of reform, the numbers don’t all add up to better days for women ahead in Mexico. Women’s shelters which saw a surge of 75% more users between 2023 and 2024 have had their funding reduced by over 4% in 2025.

The newly created Ministry for Women, designed to give gender policy a permanent place in government, was underfunded at its inception. And even CONAVIM, the agency tasked with preventing violence against women, has faced budget cuts. Women’s support organizations warn that these reductions aren’t just disappointing, the consequences could be deadly for women and girls.

And of course, there is the violence against women itself. Relentless, visible to the point of being overt, and largely unchecked. Like the murder of influencer Valeria Márquez in Jalisco who was shot during a TikTok livestream in May. Shocking? Yes, but hardly unique in a country where 10 women a day are murdered and 13 are reported missing.

On security, Sheinbaum campaigned as the candidate who could “show results.” Yet polls show nearly half of Mexicans believe violence has gotten worse under her leadership, and women remain at the epicenter of this crisis.

So, yes, the presence of a woman in power matters. But when women still feel unsafe, silenced, or dismissed, presence alone cannot be the measure of progress.

But one cannot measure the weight of 200 years of male domination against a single year in office. Cultures and ideologies as deeply rooted as Mexico’s cannot be overturned in twelve months, or even in a single six-year term. But what can be measured is intention. Laws matter, but enforcement matters more. And leadership matters most of all.

The fact that Mexico’s most powerful leader is a woman is not meaningless. It is a rupture in a centuries-old foundation. Whether that rupture becomes the wedge that finally opens space for women’s rights to deeply root themselves into the bedrock of this nation depends heavily on what Sheinbaum chooses to do next.

Huatulco

Sensory Sensitivity Meets Cultural Reality in Mexico

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By Kary Vannice

For the sensory sensitive traveler, Mexico can be a challenge. If you’re planning to visit, or stay for a while, no doubt you’re already anticipating the delicious spicy food, warm hospitality, and the vibrant colorful culture that Mexico is known for. But there are some very real sensory and cultural differences that some foreigners aren’t prepared for until they come face to face with them. Being unprepared can turn something delightful into something disorienting or even disturbing, depending on your level of preparation and understanding. The key to truly enjoying Mexican culture isn’t to try to change it to suit your comfort zone—but to shift your expectations and adapt to your surroundings.

Even if you don’t identify as particularly sensory sensitive, Mexico may still throw you a few cultural curveballs, so knowing how to deal with them gracefully and respectfully in advance can mean you get to have a good time and you don’t have to ask Mexico not to be Mexico.

It won’t take long before you realize that most of Mexico is loud (at least by foreign standards). Whether it’s music blasting from a nearby store or café, fireworks before sunrise for a saint’s day celebration, or street vendors shouting their daily offerings through a loudspeaker—Mexico is a full-on auditory experience.

Celebration is a part of everyday life in Mexico. Music, fireworks, parades, and community gatherings often involve sound levels that would be considered noise violations in other countries. Most Mexicans aren’t conditioned to need silence to relax, so there are no “quiet hours.” These sounds aren’t disturbances—they’re expressions of joy. It’s Mexicans living their best life, and when foreigners insist on lowering the volume or making complaints, they are asking the locals to lessen their enjoyment of life.

But there are ways to cope. First, pay attention to daily rhythms—afternoon siesta often brings a lull and can be a great time to rest. If you see a party, join in instead of resisting. Mexicans are some of the most welcoming people on the planet and live by the ethos: the more the merrier. If you’re sensitive to sound, invest in quality earplugs or noise-canceling headphones. And most important, accept that the noise isn’t a cultural flaw—it’s a feature.

Another sensory difference that might catch you off guard is personal space—or the lack of it. In many Mexican communities, people naturally stand closer together, touch more often, and greet others with a hug or kiss on the cheek, even if you’ve only just met. For someone from another culture, this can feel like an invasion of space.

The local culture places high value on connection and warmth. Touch is seen as a sign of respect and caring, not a threat to autonomy or an invasion of space. Physical closeness indicates trust. But, if you don’t feel comfortable touching or even standing close to people you don’t know, Mexico can be a challenge.

It’s important to keep in mind that their perception of personal space is different from yours, so they genuinely won’t understand your discomfort. Relax your body when your personal space is invaded and set gentle boundaries after you build rapport but do it with humor and kindness. Mexicans love to joke around and are quick to laugh if you keep things light. It can also help to simply observe the locals as they move in and around each other. You’ll soon see that they are as warm with strangers as they are with family. You’ll likely learn to appreciate the beauty and tenderness of these simple gestures.

Time might not have a sensory quality, but for many of us, punctuality is a deeply ingrained expectation. And in Mexico, this will likely present a greater challenge than either noise or touch. Time here is flexible, fluid … and often late.

You may arrive at a dinner party “on time” and find you’re the only person there for the first hour. A plumber who promised to arrive “a las diez” might show up at noon. In Mexico, time is more suggestion than commandment.

This isn’t about disrespect. It’s simply that Mexican culture prioritizes relationships over rigid scheduling. Things unfold when they unfold. Trying to force your sense of urgency onto that rhythm rarely works, and often backfires. Taking it personally is pointless. Complaining about it won’t change deeply embedded cultural beliefs and ways of being. Complaining about lateness or feeling personally offended will only hurt you, because from a cultural perspective, no offense has occurred.

The best solution? Build in “buffer” time. Don’t schedule back-to-back commitments counting on things to run on time. Use this time to your advantage by always carrying a book, podcast or magazine with you. It’s a chance to loosen your grip on control and start living a little more in the moment, like the locals do.

If on your travels you find yourself wishing things were quieter, more spacious, or more “efficient” … pause. Take a minute to recognize that the discomfort you’re feeling isn’t a sign that something is wrong with Mexico. It’s a sign that your cultural expectations are being stretched.

Take a breath and remind yourself: this is the whole point of travel…growth, expansion, and understanding.

The most meaningful experiences come not from controlling your environment, but from surrendering to it. From witnessing a culture on its own terms, not yours. From expanding your comfort zone, not policing everyone else’s.

Allow the experience with openness, curiosity, humility, and a willingness to be changed.

Because if you let it, Mexico will not only surprise you; it will transform you.

Huatulco

Oaxacan Women Who Shaped History

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By Alicia Flores

March is Women’s History Month, a time to honor the achievements and contributions of women across the world. Oaxaca, a region rich in culture and tradition, has been home to many extraordinary women who have left lasting impacts in politics, art, activism, and indigenous heritage. Here, we highlight a few remarkable Oaxacan women who have shaped history and continue to inspire future generations.

María Sabina: The Shaman Who Brought Oaxacan Mysticism to the World
María Sabina, a Mazatec healer from the Sierra Mazateca region, became known internationally for her sacred mushroom ceremonies. Born in 1894, she used psilocybin mushrooms in spiritual and healing rituals, a practice rooted in centuries-old indigenous traditions. In the 1950s, outsiders seeking psychedelic experiences sought her out, catapulting her into global recognition. While her work was often misunderstood by the Western world, María Sabina remains a powerful symbol of indigenous wisdom and spiritual healing.
Read more from our previous article:

Maria Sabina and Magic Mushrooms

 

Lila Downs: The Voice of Oaxacan Heritage
Grammy-winning singer and activist Lila Downs has used her music to celebrate Oaxacan culture and advocate for social justice. Born to a Mixtec mother and Scottish-American father, Downs has blended traditional indigenous sounds with contemporary influences, bringing Oaxacan identity to a global stage. Her music often highlights themes of migration, indigenous rights, and female empowerment, making her a cultural ambassador for Oaxaca and beyond.

Beyond her musical career, Downs is also known for her activism. She has been a vocal advocate for the rights of indigenous and marginalized communities, using her platform to bring awareness to issues such as poverty, racism, and gender inequality. Her lyrics, often infused with historical and political narratives, serve as a bridge between past and present, urging audiences to reflect on social injustices. Through her powerful performances, distinctive style, and dedication to her roots, Downs continues to be a beacon of cultural pride and resistance. She has also collaborated with various artists across genres, ensuring that Oaxacan and Mexican traditions remain relevant in contemporary music.

Eufrosina Cruz: A Trailblazer for Indigenous Women in Politics
Eufrosina Cruz grew up in a Zapotec community where women were traditionally excluded from political participation. In 2007, she made headlines when her election as municipal president was annulled simply because she was a woman. This injustice fueled her determination to fight for gender equality and indigenous women’s rights. She later became the first indigenous woman to preside over the Oaxacan Congress and has been instrumental in pushing for legal reforms that empower women in indigenous communities.

Her advocacy has led to groundbreaking changes, including legal amendments ensuring women’s political participation in indigenous communities where traditional customs had long barred them from leadership roles. Cruz has traveled internationally to speak about gender equality, sharing her journey from a marginalized rural community to becoming a symbol of empowerment. Her work extends beyond politics; she has been involved in educational programs aimed at fostering leadership skills among young indigenous women. By challenging deeply rooted patriarchal structures, Cruz has opened doors for future generations of women to take on roles of influence in both government and society.

Natalia Toledo: Poet and Guardian of the Zapotec Language
Natalia Toledo, a poet and writer, has dedicated her career to preserving the Zapotec language through literature. As the daughter of the legendary Oaxacan artist Francisco Toledo, she inherited a deep appreciation for indigenous culture. Her poetry, written in both Zapotec and Spanish, explores themes of identity, nature, and tradition, ensuring that the beauty of her ancestral language continues to thrive in modern literature. One of her most well-known works, Guie’ yaase’ (Olivo negro, Black Olive), is a bilingual poetry collection that captures the essence of Zapotec traditions and worldview. Readers interested in her work can also explore The Black Flower and Other Zapotec Poems (tr. Clare Sullivan, 2015),, which offers a glimpse into her lyrical and evocative storytelling, bringing the richness of Zapotec language to a broader audience.

The stories of these Oaxacan women demonstrate resilience, creativity, and the power to challenge societal norms. Whether through music, politics, poetry, or spiritual traditions, they have each left an indelible mark on history. As we celebrate Women’s History Month, may their legacies continue to inspire future generations to embrace their heritage and push for positive change.

Huatulco

Beyond the Battlefield: The Impact of the Mexican Revolution on Women’s Rights

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By Kary Vannice

On October 1st, 2024, Mexico experienced a historic moment – the inauguration of its first female president, a paradigm shift long in the making that started partly with the gun-toting Adelitas and soldaderas (see article by Frances López elsewhere in this issue) who fought alongside men during the Mexican Revolution (1910-±21), but more so because of the fundamental shift in family structures and social norms of the time. Women were presented with opportunity born out of necessity, and they made the most of it.

With the men away waging war, women were not only able but required to break out of their traditional roles as wives and mothers. They became leaders and active participants in political, social, and labor movements. The impacts of the revolution spread far beyond the front lines and bled right down into rural communities, upending their way of life, leaving countless widows and orphans behind, and breaking down social structures. Grassroots, women-led initiatives focused on providing education, healthcare, and social services. They formed mutual aid societies designed specifically to address the needs of women.

Suddenly, women became the primary decision-makers and breadwinners in their homes. They started managing farms, businesses, and household finances, all responsibilities previously considered male domains. If they didn’t have a business to run, they entered the workforce as factory workers in industries like textiles, tobacco, and food production. Other women stepped even deeper into male roles, operating trains, driving vehicles, and working as messengers. These more dangerous jobs were crucial for moving goods, transporting troops, and relaying information to support the war effort. Women serving in these roles defied societal expectations of physical capability and mental fortitude.

As more women advanced in business and industry, they began to exert their influence in labor unions, organizing strikes, leading labor movements, and advocating for workers’ rights. For women to lead public political movements, in both urban and rural areas, was groundbreaking at the time. Many of these women have been lost to history, but one woman, Juana Belén Gutiérrez de Mendoza (1875-1942), a professor, journalist, and outspoken activist who led a national campaign for better wages, safer working conditions, and shorter work hours, remains in the history books as a prominent leader of the feminist movement.

Other feminist leaders, such as Hermila Galindo (1886-1954) and Elvia Carrillo Puerto (1878-1967), seized the political and social chaos of the Revolution to advocate for women’s right to vote, reproductive rights, and access to education, spearheading social movements to secure women’s rights in the long term.

The Revolution led to a nearly decade-long shift in family structures, granting women the financial independence and economic bargaining power to challenge patriarchal norms. Though this period was brief, it was significant for the advancement of women’s rights. Once the war ended, women were expected to return to their traditional roles as wives and mothers, but enough progress had been made to change the Mexican socio-political landscape forever.

The 1917 Constitution instituted new labor laws, including fair wages, reasonable working hours, and safe working conditions. And, more importantly, it specifically addressed women workers, guaranteeing maternity leave and making it illegal to fire a woman for becoming pregnant. New constitutional laws also mandated free schooling for all citizens, improving women’s access to education, particularly in rural areas. Although women did not gain the right to vote until 1953, they had officially become a political force in Mexico, advancing the feminist agenda and bringing attention to gender inequality.

One might think that, now, with a woman seated in the highest office in the land, women have “arrived” at full and total equality with men in Mexico. But if you ask any woman here if that’s the case, you will likely hear sentiments reminiscent of those expressed by feminist leader Hermila Galindo: “I firmly and intensely believe that women deserve a better fate than that which has been bestowed upon them by the legislation of all the eras prior to the present.”

Perhaps with a woman leading the country, what these revolutionary women fought for will finally come to pass.

Huatulco

Lorena Ramírez: Top Runner of the Rarámuri

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By Julie Etra

Who is this Lorena Ramírez? And why are she and her people such exceptional runners? To understand why Lorena and her family are so exceptional, we first need to understand who they are and where they come from.

Who Are the Rarámuri?
First, a little background. The Rarámuri, or Tarahumara as the Spanish called them, live in the Barrancas del Cobre (Copper Canyon) in southwestern Chihuahua, a state in Northern Mexico; in 2017, there were about 120,000 Rarámuri.

The word rarámuri means “foot runners” in their language (rara = “foot,” muri = “to run”), which follows their ancient tradition of running “on winged feet.” Now mostly confined to the Copper Canyon, the Rarámuri had previously occupied much of Chihuahua, but sought refuge from the invading Spanish in the 16th century. The majority still practice a traditional mostly self-sufficient lifestyle, using little technology, cultivating traditional crops and many, like the Ramírez family, raising livestock. Their homes in the canyons can be pretty basic; some families live in caves or cliff overhangs. They also produce lovely basketry, for sale at major tourist destinations in Chihuahua like Divisadero and Creel.

When Rarámuri runners head off for ultra-distance runs, their choice of sustenance is not energy bars or electrolytes, but rather pinole (a maize-based powder used in a variety of recipes) and tortillas, and they don’t train for these events in any typical sense. Despite their storied fame as endurance runners, they have only recently gained attention on an international scale, competing against world-renowned runners.

As part of a traditional rarájipari event, which is largely spiritual, the male competitors kick a komakali, a baseball-sized wooden ball. The women may compete in a race called ariwete, using hooked sticks to flick a hoop as they run. Although the Rarámuri hunt with bow and arrow, and (rarely) firearms, anthropologists believe the tradition of running may have evolved from “persistence hunting,” with the prey – particularly deer and turkeys – pursued on foot until the animal collapses from exhaustion or heat stroke. Anthropologists have also concluded that running has both social and spiritual significance for the Rarámuri.

The Copper Canyon

The canyon actually consists of six distinct canyons – Urique, Sinforosa, Copper, Tararecua, Batopilas, and Oteros – within the Sierra Madre Occidental (literally, the western mother mountain range). Together, they cover 65,000 sq. km. (±25,000 sq. mi.), more than four times the surface area and almost twice as deep as the Grand Canyon in the US state of Arizona. The average altitude is 2,275 meters (±7,465 ft) above sea level; the highest point, Cerro del Mohinora, is 3,306 meters (±10,845 ft.) and the lowest point, at the confluence of the Septentrion and Chínipas Rivers, is around 220 meters (±725 ft.). The average yearly rainfall is 38 cm (±15 inches). The topography is dramatic, with rocky outcrops and vertical, sheer slopes, and has been described as one of the most extreme landscapes in the world.

With the exception of the very bottom of the canyons the rocky formations resulted from explosive volcanic ash flows, ash falls, and mudflow breccias (sharp-angled rocks cemented together), all deposited approximately 20 to 40 million years ago and subsequently carved into canyons by the six rivers that drain from the western flank of the mountains, merging into the Rio Fuerte which flows into the Gulf of California in the state of Sinaloa. The Batopilas River flows through the bottom of the Batopilas (= place of the closed-in waters) Canyon; the small community of Batopilas was founded in 1708 when a large silver ore deposit was discovered by the Spanish explorer José de la Cruz. Although there is a reddish-copper hue in the geologic formations, the area was, and still is, mined primarily for silver and to a lesser extent, gold. Mexico is the largest silver-producing country in the world.

El Chepe

The Copper Canyon is remote, and access to the bottom of the canyon is poor; there are no paved roads and the few dirt roads are not well maintained. After many years of planning and construction, starting in 1861, interrupted by the Mexican Revolution (1910-21), and completed a century later in 1961, the Ferrocarril Chihuahua al Pacifico (Chihuahua-Pacific Railway) runs 650 km (±400 miles from Creel in the Canyon to the coast at Los Mochis. The train is called El Chepe (a contraction of Chihuahua al Pacifico), and crosses 37 bridges and travels through 86 tunnels.

The trip is particularly spectacular between Los Mochis and Divisadero. Vegetation is diverse due to the highly variable topography, with oak/pine/fir woodlands dominating at the higher elevations and herbaceous pastures in the riparian areas deep in the canyons, accompanied by subtropical vegetation. Species of agave and cactus dot the landscape in the rocky habitat. El Chepe recently added a new luxury train, mostly intended to accommodate tourists; it features a bar car with panoramic views.

María Lorena Ramírez Hernández

María Lorena Ramírez Hernández, better known as Lorena Ramírez, is a remarkable indigenous marathon runner who gained worldwide renown in 2017 after winning two gold medals in tough Mexican mountain races. One medal was for the UltraTrail Cerro Rojo in the state of Puebla (just over 50 km [±31 mi]), which she ran in 7 hours, 20 minutes, barefoot; the other gold medal was for the UltraMaratón de los Cañones, a brutal 100 km (±62 mi) in Guachochi, Chihuahua, near where she was born. Her time was 12:44:25. She had won the silver medal in the UltraMaratón in 2016, and went on to win a silver in the Ultramaratón Caballo Blanco, in Urique, Chihuahua, in 2018. In 2023, she placed first in the Ultratrail Sierra del Laurel in Calvillo, Aguascalientes, a distance of 42 km (±26 mi) in 5:58:17.

In June of 2017, on the heels of her two gold medals, Lorena became the first Rarámuri woman to compete in a European ultra. The Ultramaratón de Cajamar Tenerife, the “Bluetrail,” is the second-highest race in Europe and a distance of 102 km. (63 mi.). She placed third in 20:11:37.

A Family of Runners

The Ramírez family lives in Guachochi, an isolated valley with no neighbors in the bottom of the canyon. Lorena and her siblings Juanita, Talina, Mario, and Antonio walk five hours to the nearest school and four hours to the nearest grocery. Her brothers attended school while she and her sisters tended to the goats, the center of their pastoral life, while also cultivating corn, beans, squash, and greens among other crops on their farm. The family are for the most part self-sufficient. A perennial creek runs through their property, providing a clean source of water. The women of the family sew their own traditional dresses – Lorena dons a lighter version of the traditional skirt when she competes.

Lorena’s father, Santiago Ramírez, took her to compete in her first race of 7 km (4.3 mi) in the municipality of Cuauhtémoc, Chihuahua, which she won, having no idea of her capabilities at the time. Although she never dreamed of being a runner or marathoner, she was born into it. She comes from a family of runners, as they run everywhere around their rural property. Her father has won the Ultramaratón de los Cañones three times, the brutal 102-km cross country trail that gave her that second gold medal.

The Ramírez family members have won various races without the government’s help, commercial sponsorship, or professional training; they have achieved success due to their talent, perseverance, and lifestyle, which is very physical. To support travel to various events, they receive donations through their Facebook page:
http://www.facebook.com/mario.ramirez.71066700.

When Lorena first started winning races, she and her family saw the prize money as a way to buy food. They have moved on – in 2019, when she was 22, she was profiled in the excellent 2019 Netflix documentary Lorena, Light-Footed Woman. The executive producer for this 30-minute documentary was the well-known Mexican actor, director, and producer Gael García Bernal (If you have never seen his breakout movie Y tu mamá también [2001], do so. Playa Cacaluta makes a cameo appearance). In 2019, Lorena was also the cover story in Vogue Mexico; in June 2022, she began marketing her brand of running outfits, called Lorena imparable (unstoppable Lorena).

Quiet and unassuming, Lorena says she does not think about anything when she runs, that it just feels good, and she stays focused on the objective of the race: getting to the finish line.

Upon receiving a gift of high-tech running shoes, she rewrapped them, placed the box back in the plastic bag and explained “I don’t think I will use them. The people who do are always running behind me.”

The next Ultramaratón de los Cañones will take place on July 5-7, 2024. Vamos a ver – We shall see.

Huatulco

Writers of Literature and Social Consciousness

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By Carole Reedy

This month let’s talk about fierce Mexican women writers who scrutinize the varied plights of humankind, their words dissecting and analyzing society and human behavior. All have the ability to keenly observe, be it in a novel, short story, or essay, offering the reader fresh perspectives with which to view the world.

Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz
A main contributor to the Spanish Golden Age of Literature (c. 1492-1659 or 1681, depending on who’s defining it), Sor Juana is today still recognized as one of the most important women writers of Spanish and Mexican literature.

Born near Mexico City as Juana de Asuaje y Ramírez de Santillana, a discrepancy exists, even today, concerning her birthdate. There is record of two baptisms, one under the name Juana in 1648 and the other in the name of Inés in 1651.

Sor Juana’s life was a constant battle to get an education not only for herself but for all women. She was active from an early age in her struggle to be educated. As a little girl she often hid in the hacienda’s chapel in order to read her grandfather’s books.

Recognized as a child prodigy, she was educated at home and could read and write in Latin by age three. She wrote her first poem at eight. Although she wanted to enter the university disguised as a male, her mother denied the request while continuing her private teaching at home.

In 1667 Sor Juana entered a nunnery and dedicated her life to writing prose and poetry about feminism, love, and religion. The convent was the only path open to her to enable “no fixed occupation, which might curtail my freedom to study.”

One of the most significant and recommended books about Sor Juana was written by Nobel Prize winner Octavio Paz, entitled Sor Juana: or The Traps of Faith (1982).

Although there is much written information about Sor Juana’s struggles against church and state, as well as her censorship and rejection, the best way to understand her is through her original poetry and prose. There are translations to English for non-Spanish speakers. For a flavor of her philosophy try her famous poem “Hombres Necios” (“Foolish Men.” C. 1689).

Sor Juana died at 46 from the plague while caring for afflicted nuns in the convent.

Elena Poniatowska
Today at 91 years old, Poniatowska is still active in journalism, literature, and politics, though to a lesser degree than in the past. She was one of the founders of the prestigious newspaper La Jornada, as well as Fem, a feminist magazine. She also founded two well-known and strong Mexico City institutions – Siglo XXI, a publishing house, and the Cineteca Nacional, the national film institute.

It is impossible to list the awards Poniatowska has won worldwide or to list all the articles and books she has packed into a lifetime. I will just mention a few that have meant a lot to me in my many years of studying Spanish language and culture, as well as in simply reading for pleasure.

The first book I read cover-to-cover in Spanish was Poniatowska’s novel Leonora (2011), a novel based on the life of her good friend the eccentric surrealist artist and writer Leonora Carrington.

The book has much to offer: a glimpse into the world of surrealism through the Mexican artists and friends of Leonora, a voyage through her disturbed upper-class British childhood and adolescence, and her journey into madness. Scattered throughout are provocative tidbits of well-known personalities from her time in Europe and the US during World War II and then in Mexico, where she spent the rest of her long life.

Poniatowska’s style is straightforward, but not simple. It is a pleasure to read her and especially to learn more about the culture of her era.

Poniatowska’s best known book is La noche de Tlatelolco (Massacre in Mexico in English, 1971), which contains testimonies of the victims of the 1968 student massacre in Mexico City. During the presidency of Gustavo Díaz Ordaz (1964-70), students demonstrated to protest their discontent with the authoritarian government. On October 2, 1968 (ten days before the Summer Olympics were to begin in Mexico City – those Olympics are famous in their own right for a Black Power protest), the military put a stop to the protests. It is estimated that 300 to 500 students who had gathered in the Plaza de Tres Culturas, the main square in the Tlatelolco neighborhood, were shot and killed by the military. Poniatowska’s interviews, charts, and slogans from the student survivors bring the events painfully alive for the reader.

Certainly Poniatowska is and has been a role model for all young women.

Cristina Rivera Garza
Cristina Rivera Garza, one of Mexico’s most prolific and popular writers, was born in 1964 on the US/Mexico border in the state of Tamaulipas. She teaches and writes in both countries and languages, currently living in San Diego and teaching history at the University of San Diego.

Her most recognized work, Nadie me verá llorar (No One Will See Me Cry, 1999) won the prestigious Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz Prize in 2001. This is the tale of the intertwined lives of Joaquín Buitrago, a morphine-addicted photographer with upper-class roots, and Matilda Burgos, a former prostitute of peasant origin who was confined to a mental hospital.

“This touching story plumbs the psychological depths of the morphine addict, vividly portrays life a century ago in Mexico, and has the added appeal of strong female characters,” says Nerissa Moran, a Spanish-language book dealer. The renowned Carlos Fuentes called the book “one of the most perturbing and beautiful novels ever written in Mexico.” Best to read it in Spanish, according to Garza’s fans.

Garza won the Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz Prize in 2009 for La muerte me da (Death Gives Me, 2007), a fragmentary and experimental novel in which the narrator discovers castrated bodies, the body and parts separated, and the text undergoes a similar fragmentation. Garza is the only author to win the Sor Juana award twice.

One of her most intriguing books is Liliana’s Invincible Summer: A Sister’s Search for Justice (2023), a nonfiction work in which she reconstructs the circumstances leading to her younger sister’s murder in 1990. Through differing styles, she creates a book that brings back memories of this young woman who attested “I am a seeker. I want to try new things; maybe more pain and loneliness, but I think it would be worth it. I know there is more than these four walls and this sky, annoyingly blue.”

Valeria Luiselli
“Versatile” is the first word that comes to mind when Valeria Luiselli’s name comes up in conversation. She has lived in Mexico, the US, South Africa, South Korea, India, France, and Spain and has studied dance, literature, and philosophy. She has worked as a librettist for a ballet company, taught comparative literature, and has written for several art galleries.

We know her best, however, as a writer of fine literature, with immigration concerns central to both her fiction and nonfiction.

Luiselli’s book Tell Me How It Ends: An Essay in 40 Questions (2017) is ranked number 83 on The Guardian’s list of the best 100 books of the 21st century. One of my favorites, Tell Me How It Ends uses the 40 questions Luiselli, working as an interpreter, asks of undocumented Latin American children in deportation hearings. Luiselli highlights the dichotomy between immigrant dreams and the reality of American racism and fear. This short book is an emotional journey into the process, which includes Luiselli’s conversations with her own children, who ask, “Tell us how it ends, momma. What happens to the children?”

Another journey into the world of immigration is her Lost Children Archive: A Novel (2020), about a family that takes a vacation from New York to Arizona. Although the main theme is immigration and children, other family concerns pepper the journey and it is richly flavored with personal angst and perspective. The parents themselves are awaiting green cards, and the husband is obsessed with Geronimo and with bringing an understanding of the plight of the American Indian to his own children. The marriage appears to be disintegrating.

These are just a few of the legion of women who continue to spark awareness in readers through their inquisitive nature and prudent, yet daring and bold, language skills.

Huatulco

Chefs Conquer – Cooks Nourish

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By Kary Vannice

March is traditionally “The Women’s Issue” here at The Eye. And this year, the staff decided to focus the majority of our articles on Mexican women in the culinary industry. However, one unarguable fact comes up in every “Top Mexican Chef” Google search – the majority of chefs listed are men. How can this be in a country where women so clearly dominate the household kitchen? Why don’t more women rise up to the ranks of Top Chef in Mexico or even on the global stage?

María Canabal, a food journalist and founder of Parabere Forum, dedicated to promoting the work of women in restaurant kitchens around the world, put the numbers in perspective. Canabel points out that “93% of the people who cook at home are women. 48% of the graduates of culinary schools are women. 39% of the cooks in restaurants are women, but only 18% of the women in the industry are head chefs.”

In 2018, Kantar Worldpanel Mexico, a consumer behavior research center, reported that men do the majority of the cooking in only 8% of Mexican households, and yet 15 of the “Top 20 Chefs of Mexico” are men. Consistently, ranking after ranking, 80% of the most recognized and acclaimed Mexican chefs are male.

As María Canabal puts it, “Talent has no gender. Either you have it, or you don’t.” So why the gender gap in handing out accolades? Surely, with nearly 50% of culinary school graduates being female, there has to be more than 20% of female chefs with talent equal to that of male chefs. If culinary distinction is based on talent alone, the numbers just don’t add up.

Are there differences between the dishes prepared by a man and those by a woman? Is it even about the food? Perhaps it’s more about the industry of culinary arts and its history?

Research shows it’s actually a bit of all of the above.

Decades ago, many culinary schools admitted disproportionately fewer women than men, some admitting only 10% female students. Many of today’s Top Chefs are older males, so it could be said that this is a contributing factor. However, not all of the top recognized chefs are classically trained. Another major factor in becoming an acclaimed chef is one must have a place to showcase their talent, in other words, a restaurant. However, when female chefs approach investors for a startup restaurant, they are often turned away, whereas male chefs often get the backing they seek based on the belief that men are better in business than women.

Not only does one need a well-backed restaurant, chefs who want to be recognized also need to be active in mainstream and online social media. Rising culinary stars must become comfortable in the limelight, spending time in front of a camera and giving interviews for print and television, all of which take time. Female chefs with families often have less time to dedicate to PR than single male chefs do. And the industry takes note of chefs the media is “buzzing” about. When asked about the role media plays in “making it” in the industry, one chef put it this way, “It’s hard to know which comes first – great food that attracts media attention, or great PR that attracts media attention pushing you to be a better chef.”

In today’s world, to be considered for high-profile awards or high-profile media coverage in the culinary world, you have to be a chef capable of presenting a certain kind of narrative. So, it could be said that both history and the industry have stacked the decks against female chefs, but what about the question of whether there are differences between the dishes that a man prepares and those of a woman?

From a purely culinary perspective, the answer is “no.” However, look deeper into the motivation, inspiration, and intent behind the dishes prepared and the answer may be “yes.” Men, it could be said, picked up the ladle for a very different reason than did women. They aspired not to nourish, but to create and conquer.

French chef Hèlène Darroze said of the difference between men and women chefs, “They want to teach their techniques, show something new, be the first. We cook to generate an experience, to care, and this is a very different approach.”

Traditionally, in the world of haute cuisine, more daring and avant garde cooking is more rewarded and awarded than traditional methods of cooking. “Women don’t usually do extreme cooking because they don’t seek to assert themselves through the act of cooking. For them food is nutrition long before stupor, supremacy, jealousy or envy,” Italian chef Licia Granello says of female chefs.

Could this be the ultimate differentiating factor? Men simply approach the job differently, with a different aim in mind and, thus, seek recognition more than women because they are driven by a different ambition?

French chef Olivier Roellinger certainly agrees. He is famously quoted as saying, “All kitchens in the world are feminine, they were created by grandmothers and mothers. But Spanish cuisine only began to be talked about when men began to cook.” Regardless of the reason, the fact remains that women are disproportionately under represented in the upper echelons of culinary culture. Whether it’s industry, history, or ego, women have a long way to go before they gain equality in the world’s top kitchens.

The online news outlet Chefs 4 Estaciones published a beautifully written article on this topic in Spanish noting that forty years ago, our books were the cookbooks of our grandmothers, mothers, great-aunts, and aunts. Without women in gastronomy, there would be no roots, no inheritance, no tradition in the kitchen. Definitely, much of what culinary cooks know today is thanks to women. They deserve our thanks and our tribute. And an equal place in the world of the professional restaurant.

Huatulco

Five Women: Mexico City’s Star Chefs

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By Carole Reedy

The streets of Mexico City overflow not just with people and cars but also with culture, art, science, and nature. There seem to be no limits. Growth is a near-constant, but the citizenry knows how to adapt to the colorful chaos, making this one of the most beloved cites in the world.

In this megalopolis, the choices for food, drink, restaurants, markets, street snacks, taco stands, and cafes, as well as their diversity of style, are staggering. And amidst this richness, numerous women chefs have made their mark, creating cuisines and venues worthy of their big-city status.

The food scene here supports so many women who shine brightly that it’s impossible to name them all. The choices here are subjective, based purely on my experiences and those of my visitors.

One positive result of the Covid pandemic is the presence of more street dining in our cities. The Mexican government has allowed restaurants to build fashionable wooden structures on streets, sidewalks, curbs, and parking areas, making dining a more social experience, and certainly a better ventilated one. Add the near-perfect climate of Mexico City and you can dine al fresco most days and evenings.

Now, let’s take a closer look at some of our top women chefs:

ELENA REYGADAS is the award-winning chef (Veuve Clicquot named her the Best Latin American Female Chef in 2014) at Rosetta, a delectable eatery on Colima street in the heart of trendy Roma Norte. New and repeat customers appreciate not only the high quality of the food and Mexican ingredients, but also her innovative presentation, which sidesteps unnecessary cleverness. This is the first stop for many of my visitors, a favorite dish being the sea bass, though any selection is delicately prepared with just the perfect balance of flavors.

Rosetta is open Monday-Saturday, 1 to 5:30 pm and 6:30 to 11:15pm. Reservations strongly suggested, especially in the evening hours.

Just across the street is Reygadas’ casual Panadería Rosetta, known for its exceptional bread and pastries, as well as sandwiches. The traditional pan de muerto and rosca de reyes are to die for, although only offered during their respective Mexican holiday celebrations. You can eat on site or take out. The outdoor area is perfect for people watching.
Panadería Rosetta is open Monday-Saturday 7 am to 8 pm, Sunday 7:30 am to 6 pm.

Ten years after the she opened Rosetta in 2010, Reygadas opened yet another successful eatery in neighboring Condesa, this time with a new European /Mexican/ Mediterranean concept. Lardo is a bit more casual than Rosetta, with a bar encircling the room, but the food still has the finest of flavors. Lardo’s excellent breakfast is a good choice.

An interesting note about Reygadas for readers of The Eye’s regular book review column: she studied English literature at UNAM, where she wrote her thesis on Virgina Woolf’s experimental novel The Waves.

MÓNICA PATIÑO is a recognizable name among all foodies in the city. She’s won numerous awards and, like Reygadas, two of her most famous and best restaurants are the formal Casa Virginia in Roma Norte and a more casual place next door, Delirio.

Casa Virginia has a fine dining atmosphere, with prices to reflect it. With an ample variety of choices, the French cuisine is delicately prepared and deliciously presented. From figs and Gorgonzola cheese to clams, fish, short ribs, and the classic French onion soup, the food encourages repeat visits.

Casa Virginia is open 1:30 to 11 pm Tuesday-Saturday, and only until 6 pm Sundays. Closed Mondays.

Delirio is a delicatessen with a few outdoor tables on busy Calle Alvaro Obregon (indoor seating is also available). Patiño also sells many of her delicacies at this location, both grocery items and freshly prepared foods. Chilaquiles are a particular favorite, as are the juices. I often stop in just for takeout.

Delirio is open Monday-Saturday 8 am to 10 pm, Sunday 9 am to 7pm.

Early in her life Patiño wanted to learn English and French and moved to Europe to do just that. She studied cooking in France, with an emphasis on pastries, ice creams, and pates.

MARTHA ORTIZ. Let’s travel from Condesa and Roma to Polanco, another upscale neighborhood, close to Chapultepec Park. Here Martha Ortiz Chapa runs her famous restaurant Dulce Patria (Sweet Homeland).

When asked what she recommends to tourists who come to her restaurant looking for Mexican flavors, Ortiz replies:

“Everything we have on the menu. Our menu is small but articulates Mexican stories through marinades, moles, corn and beans. I feel proud of everything we have from a nationalist guacamole to María goes to the flower shop, the place’s flagship dessert, and whatever you experience. What they ask for the most is the duck with mole and the coconut flan with pineapple a la vainilla for dessert.”

CARMEN RAMÍREZ DEGOLLADO created El Bajio restaurant with her husband in 1972, and has carried on the tradition since his death in 1988, expanding from one to 19 locations in the city.

This is one of my favorite places to entertain guests, and I usually do so in the venue at 222 Reforma. The restaurant is colorfully decorated in the purest Mexican style, and the food reflects the vast traditions of Mexico.

My favorite and probably the most popular dish is the carnitas, delicate pieces of pork butt served on fresh hot tortillas. You can ask for it maciza, which means with less fat, just solid meat. Mexican breakfasts, such as huevos rancheros, are also a treat. Please don’t miss the hot chocolate!

GABRIELA CÁMERA. In 1988, this restaurant owner and author opened a seafood restaurant called Contramar that has generated buzz on the streets of Roma Norte ever since. This is one of the most popular restaurants in the city. Try the soft-shell crabs or spicy fish tacos in the airy dining room and plant-filled patio.

Cámera published My Mexico City Kitchen in 2019, the same year she and her staff were the subject of the Netflix documentary A Tale of Two Kitchens and Time Magazine listed her as one of its most influential people.

This modest list of women-led restaurants represents just the tip of the iceberg, but a good place to start your Mexico City food frenzy.

Huatulco

Tortillas, Women and Circles

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By Brooke O’Connor

It’s impossible to think about Mexican food without immediately thinking about tortillas, whether made with flour or variously colored corn. A legend says tortillas were invented by a humble peasant to feed a hungry king. We have records of corn tortillas being made as far back as 10,000 BCE. Why have they been a staple of the Americas and how have women making tortillas become such an important part of society?

First, let’s look at the making of tortillas. Traditionally, dried corn is cooked in lime water. Not limes from trees, but an alkaline bath made with wood ash and/or white lime powder from the earth. This process creates a chemical reaction releasing the bioavailability of B vitamins, particularly vitamin B3, which is not widely present in traditional vegetable-based diets. Boiling in this water also increases the mineral uptake such as calcium, iron, copper, and zinc by hundreds of percentage points. After the corn is boiled for at least 90 minutes, the skins can be slipped off and the corn can be ground into masa and used for tortillas, or other bases for foods like tamales or sopes.

This process is called nixtamalization, coming from the Aztec language Nahuatal word nextli “lime ashes” and tamalli “unformed/cooked corn dough.”

We don’t know how the process was discovered, but we think it goes something like this. People in the Americas didn’t have metal cooking vessels in 10,000 BCE, and the traditional pottery was not strong enough to cook directly on hot coals or fire. The earthenware pots were elevated above the fire, then hot stones were put into the pot (with the food) to increase the temperature and cook food thoroughly. Limestone is an easily attained and abundant resource in the Americas, so it the heated rocks were generally pieces of limestone. The lime leaching into the water created the nixtamalization, but a side effect was better flavor and aroma in the cornmeal (masa). Soon it became clear that cooking with limestone versus other stones created a superior product, so this became the standard. Most likely the stones were heated in the wood ash underneath the pot, and some ash was likely to enter the food as well. Savvy cooks experimented with various amounts of ash and stone until they achieved the desired flavor.

Once the corn was made into masa, small round balls were flattened by hand, and laid over a large concave piece of pottery called a comal. The comal was treated with a thick layer of limestone dissolved in water, creating a non-stick coating. This would leave a light additional dusting of calcium on every tortilla, making it even more nutritious. Periodically the limestone would be washed onto the comal again, and tortillas naturally slid off the cooking surface, using only fingers. Much safer and longer lasting than the non-stick pans we have today, despite all the advantages of modern chemistry and manufacturing.

Because cooking was traditionally a woman’s chore, tortilla-making was an essential women’s role in Mexican society, but not given much importance. It was just another job in the kitchen. It evolved into micro-businesses for women who developed a particular flair for their nixtamalization process. The skilled tortilla maker began selling to other women, freeing them up to concentrate on other things.

As the industrial revolution hit Mexico, the “wage gap” between women and men became more of a “wage chasm.” However, because tortilla making was not mechanized, it remained an industry owned and run by women. It was an essential strategy used by women of the era to maintain some form of autonomy and financial significance.

Centuries later, we have tried to industrialize nixtamalization, with terrible impact on the environment, the nutritional quality of masa, and excess use of energy resources – not to mention the lack of complex aromas and depth of flavors.

In modern days, the role of women in Mexico has changed. Women who make tortillas to sell, for the most part, are using industrially produced corn meal. The concept of societal roles, and the loss of recognition of traditional flavors, have morphed the tortilla industry into an interesting reflection of society at large. Tortilla making is considered a lower-status job for women. In fact, anthropologist Lauren A. Wynne details how modern Yucatecan Maya women have no intention of making tortillas at home because they consider it lower-class activity, and the qualities of good-tasting tortilla have changed (“I Hate It”: Tortilla-Making, Class and Women’s Tastes in Rural Yucatán, Mexico,” Food, Culture & Society {18:3, 2015}.

An interesting side note to corn and its history, is what happened when the Spaniards came to Mexico. They were enchanted with this new grain. They’d never seen corn before and described it with delight in their letters back home; they created the name tortilla (little cake). They called it this because in southern Spain, where there was a significant Arabic influence, they made small round disks from chickpea flour, and it seemed similar. The Spanish then imported wheat and the flour tortilla was born.

After Europeans began cultivating corn, it became a popular food but led to a pandemic in poorer parts of society because, without nixtamalization, it lacked niacin; the deficiency brought on a disease called pellagra. Symptoms include inflamed skin, diarrhea, dementia, and sores in the mouth. Over time, the skin became thicker, peeled, and bled. If not treated, it was fatal. The same thing happened when Europeans settled in the southern part of the United States. Settlers relied on easily grown corn crops to survive, but neglected to learn the indigenous way of preparation. One could argue Nature herself served up a little social justice.

As most things go, history repeats itself. The traditional ways of cooking are becoming more interesting again, as our food resources become more expensive and less nutritious. There are several cooking schools in Huatulco that offer classes in traditional and modern Mexican cuisine.

There are also still women who make tortillas by hand, with corn they grew and processed themselves. If you are fortunate enough to have organic, indigenous corn, nixtamalized over a fire, and cooked over a traditional comal, you will notice the difference immediately.

Like history, women have always been circular. We have cyclical bodily rhythms, pregnant bellies, round with ripe life. It’s through the family circle we serve our immediate loved ones. We support each other, disguised as crafting circles. It only seems fitting, women will bring this art of circle-shaped tortilla-making back into the mainstream. There is something wholesome and delicious in the process. There’s a connection with the earth, history, and the elements when we connect with indigenous ways of cooking. If you have a chance to make even one tortilla with your own hands, take it. It’s a science and an art, and hopefully, together we can revive the womanly art of circles and tortillas.