By Madeline Marin-Foucher
You may know that I can’t resist comprehensive lists comparing things, especially two cultures, and after six months living in Mexico, I’d say a list is ripe for the picking.
Walking oceanside with my baby and dog, thoughts tend to wander to the more intangible things I love about Mexico and Oregon, and many a sunset hour finds me staring wistfully into the horizon mentally comparing my two homes. Mexico, oh Mexico, what can you teach a small town Oregon girl about life? And Oregon, beautiful Oregon, what can you learn from your neighbors to the south?
I think the thing that strikes me most about Mexico and Oregon is how similar the two places are, or, at least, Cozumel and rural Oregon. In both locations, people are warm and get to know each other well, waving hello on the street, stopping to ask how someone’s grandmother is doing, and gleefully chatting it up over a chance lunch encounter. People have the rallying cry of a population in close proximity, for Cozumel, it’s a small island, for Oregon, small communities nestled in the bosom of expansive wilderness. I am a friendly person and enjoy running into new and old friends on a daily basis, and that’s one thing I treasure about both of my homes. Now, to examine the differences.
Mexico represents a way of family life that is, in some ways, antiquated, but should never have gone away in the first place. Children are revered, treasured, nurtured by all. One afternoon, for example, I was getting my nails done at a local salon and a woman, total stranger, held my baby for me for 20 minutes while the technician gave me a manicure. The stranger hardly said a word to me, but cooed to my baby and when my hands were dry handed him right back and went out the door. Of course, I would never have handed over my child if I sensed things were not safe, but I was among many kind women and mothers and that’s just how things are done on the island.
Marriage is important and divorce is uncommon. Families spend every Sunday together all day, usually at the beach, and the excuse of “I can’t, it’s family day” is widely accepted. Many families take the daily comida together, spending the afternoon enjoying each other’s company and delicious food surrounding the dining table, and everyone – rom the young to quite old – spend holidays, parties, celebrations, you name it, together. If you fall asleep on the couch, that’s OK! Just don’t think about leaving until the party is officially over.
This family way of life is the main reason my little family moved to Cozumel. I can’t imagine a more gentle, lovely, sweet way for my baby to grow up, and as the US seems more and more consumed with senseless violence and weird crime (gangs of kids punching out strangers on the streets?!) I felt more comfortable in my island safe haven.
That being said, there are many things I miss about Oregon: my wonderful family and the incredible geography first and foremost.
But beyond that, I miss the Oregon vibes and ideology: a place where a woman can own/shoot/carry a gun, trek up a mountain by herself, then party in downtown Portland without anyone, certainly not a man, batting an eye. In Mexico my Oregon independent woman-ness is often the brunt of jokes and cause of disbelief: I recently cut my hair rather short (not before asking my husband’s permission, I might add!) to the complete shock of literally everyone Mexican in my life. My in-laws gently told me, “it’s not…terrible.” My sister-in-law gasped “….you cut your hair! But you could have just braided it!” My maid exclaimed “oyeh, Madeline, your hair!” and even my students (I’m now teaching English at a local private school) were beside themselves “Miss Lau!!!! Your HAIRRRRR!!!!” Did I mention this was just a haircut? That hair has a tendency to grow back? You would never guess it in Mexico.
Another thing that is hard for me to understand about Mexico is how segregated the society can be. Native Mexicans mixed with European heritage, called Mestizos, make up the vast majority of Mexican population but are very rarely in positions of power or control, and are very often poverty-stricken. The extremely small percentage of light-skinned Mexicans, descendants from Spanish colonial rule and other European nations, pretty much run the show government-wise, business-wise, and economy-wise.
It is strange to me, as a born-and-raised American, to live in a society where skin color is social currency and ethnic groups rarely mix on equal platforms. I remember being told, in my first few weeks living in Cozumel, not to invite my housekeeper to eat at my dinner table with me, lest she “get too comfortable there” and feeling slightly sick about that. Of course, I plowed ahead and did things the way I think they should be done (oh, you know, treating people how I would want to be treated) and lo and behold never had any kind of unfortunate run-in, just an appreciative employee who was grateful to work for someone who treated her like a person.
This social hierarchy can also be really confusing and sometimes frustrating back in the USA where everyone just assumes all Mexicans are dark-skinned illegal farm workers crossing our borders and infiltrating our cities. This is incredibly aggravating because in my experience the people of Mexico are warm, generous, and super hard working men and women no matter what their skin color, who put their family above everything, and will happily take a job that many Americans would scoff at, but people have their stereotypes firmly set in place.
My husband, whose family is from Spain and France, is blond and green-eyed, and as Mexican as they come—chowing down on pastor tacos and enjoying an occasional match of lucha libre wrestling, but he regularly gets boggled expressions from people who meet him and find out he’s from Mexico. “YOU’RE MEXICAN?!!” they say, “you can’t be! No, really, where are you from?” The same goes for my son, who is blond and blue eyed, and a dual resident of the US and Mexico. Mis dos Mexicanos, I proudly say, and I think people think I’m joking. Both societies have a long way to go before people are on equal footing and minds are more open, but I think and hope we’re heading down the right path.
Tolerance, I believe, is the most important thing to remember in either Oregon or Mexico, and as our world becomes more and more diverse, and latinos make up a bigger and bigger percentage of American population, we have to remember those small town/small island characteristics that make life so pleasant. Greeting your neighbor warmly on the street, knowing and caring about one another, reaching out to help someone in need, that is what makes life pleasant no matter if you’re north or south of the border.
Madeline Lau Marin-Foucher has been sharing her adventures with Our Town readers since the paper was new and she was 16. Catching up always gives us a grin. We hope you enjoy it, too.
