Mi Rabia Crece

My rage grows....and it grows because I saw what Mexico was. I saw the beauty and richness in its culture. I saw people count their blessings and thank every day for life. I saw families united and small towns with every member caring for one another. But now I see it too, and what I see I do not like.

I was born in the United States to illegal immigrants, hailing from Mexico, and thus my heritage was set. Some people call us "Chicanos" or "Pochos" it doesn't really matter, I have pride for both of my countries. The blood of legendary warriors runs through my veins, and my heart beats proudly at being a citizen of the strongest nation in the world. So, when I tell people that the only ones that are angrier than me, are those who have lost loved ones to the corruption now spread through our country, believe me that I tell no lie.

When we first moved to Mexico, I was nine years old. Everything was new, the people, the language, the culture. Everything. From the way children played, to the food we ate, it was a completely different world. Even though my parents had always stated that we would speak spanish when at home in the states, and even though my mom cooks the best mexican dishes, being at the heart of my heritage was the best thing that could have happened to me. I played marbles, and "tazos." Late at night the other kids and I would play "los encantados" or "la traes" and other lovely games that involved me yelling and running with all my might.

I finished elementary school without any issues. Life was so carefree, and we never heard anything worse than people dying in a car accident, a thief running off with some lady's bag, and other incidents along those lines. If there ever were some gruesome storis of cartel killings or thinfgs like that, you'd hear about them happening up north, close to the border, in cities like Juarez, Matamoros, the states of Tamaulipas, Michoacan, and Monterrey. Never in the center of the country, never in our small town.

And it happened without us noticing.....

In Mexico we drink heavy, and it's because underage drinking laws aren't enforced like they are in the states. You go to the corner store because you father sent you for a "Caguama" or maybe some cigarettes, and you nick one for yourself along the way. Later, as you grow, you buy the beers with the excuse that it's for Dad, and you and your buddies go off to drink and smoke, until it becomes a habit, a vice, and then you're a drunk-ass. Which is what happened to pretty much all of my friends and I.

Around my third semester in high school is when I can say that we were all going through our rebellious phase and there was a lot of drinking and partying involved. Drugs too. Lots of em, and I guess then we didn't know all that was going on up north, or what it had cost to get those drugs all the way to our nose. We couldn't have known, Mexico was peaceful, there still weren't any dissapearances, nor kidnappings, nor filmed executions or hanging bodies throughout city bridges, or forced labor and sex trade.

No, there was, but it just wasn't happening to us quite then. The violence was secluded to small towns in few states, and so Mexico was unaware of its growing cancer and the bullshit our government was about to put us through. We were unaware of the impotence that families throughout the nation would soon feel, at the loss of their loved ones and never seeing them again, of never recieving justice.

Despite the partying, and late nights out, there was never any danger. I mean, you risked getting into a fight, because mexicans throwing hands, and you risked getting mugged, your stuff stolen, but that's about it, at the end of the night, or at the crack of dawn, you'd still make it home safetly for your mother to tear you a new one.

When I finished high school I moved back to US, and went to live with one of my mother's sisters, in California. I was happy to be back in my homeland, flexing my english, working long hours, saving up money. My motivation was to buy land, build a house and live a relaxed life. This was never going to happen. While I was in California, we were slowly hearing of the increasing violence in the entire country, it had been quite bad in Tamaulipas, back when I was fifteen, but like I mentioned earlier, we never expected the cartels to spread and reach every corner of the nation.

Fast-forward to today, and Jalisco is one of the most violent states in Mexico. It resembles nothing of what it used to, at least nothing of what it was when I first arrived eighteen years ago....

Ever since I turned eighteen I have been going back and forth between Mexico and the US. I wor in the US and return to enjoy my family for a while. This year I arrived in late August, barely a month ago, and within the week there had been to executions - both guys I knew.

The first one had been the head of the "plaza" about five years ago, and he married a girl from the town I lived in as a child. He had been arrested and thrown into prison, from what stories tell, and had recently been released and was living there, although not quite keeping a low-profile.

The other guy lived abot three houses down from where I did. I never spoke with him much, as he moved into that town later, but he was townsfolk nonetheless.

And since I've been here that's all we know. Kidnappings, public executions, sometimes done in places with elderly, like one of the guys mentioned above was killed in front of the church and an old lady passed out. It's pathetic because you see these trucks filled with fifteen year old boys, armed to their teeth, strolling around the streets and giving everyone the stink-eye, and then you see the municipal police drive by or notice them and do nothing.

Bussiness' can't flourish because sometimes they'll ask for quota, or simply be envious that some people are making money the legit way, and they proceed to extorsion, blackmail, kidnapping -threats - The list goes on.

We had the 43 Mass Kidnappings in Iguala, we should have done something then. We had all the Femicides in 2019, especially in the metropolitan area here in Guadalajara, and as the years pass, ever since this political mess that allowed for this to happen, we have our mountains littered with mass graves, of people that will never be found....

I understand now, I truly do. I used to watch movies or documentaries of countries at war, and I'd feel so bad for the people. The civilians that had nothing to do with the political interests and power shifts.

My people are tired, so very tired....I know I am, and there's always this small feeling of insecurity, that never fades. This impotence of not knowing if for some reason we may get on their wrong side some day, or if I'm doing the right thing by raising my daughter here, building a home for my wife.

My rage grows, and yet I do nothing, the men of our country do nothing, and I feel ashamed, because I know that there's plenty of hate, plenty of anger, enough to stand up and do something, but at the same time the way they do things ain't pretty. The way they punish for speaking out, or acting out, is worse than barbaric - it's demonic. People used to say "We don't have serial killers nor spree shooters here in Mexico." but they're wrong, of course we do, we have a whole army of goddamn serial killers running around, loaded with guns, untouched and forgiven by our government.

So, I ask you, my dear reader, if you live in a conflict-free country, and have never had to fear doing mundane tasks, such as driving to the groceries, give thanks for that. If you have never had to worry about your children not coming back from school one day, keep this article in mind. If you live in a country, where you the law backs you, should you kill someone who tried to harm your family, cherish that. Because we don't have gun rights here, and they've left us like stock for the slaughter. Our government is letting us be killed off, and there is nothing we can do.

Never trust a government that will not let you defend yourself, because that is a sign of disregard towards the value of human life.

For my mexican readers, or readers with mexican heritage, you are in my heart. I hope that you are safe, and that if we can't ever find the strength to resonate and fight, that at least God may bless you with the chance of living elsewhere. For the longest time I have been stubborn, I have fought to come back to Mexico, time and time again, in the hopes that it will get better, in that hopes that I can raise my family here, but it will not do, and I must let go. If ever the moment should come, in which Mexico had to fight to reclaim its freedom, without a doubt I would join the ranks, withou caring if I was away, I would return, but for now, maybe for now, it is probably time for my family and I to settle elsewhere....

Me dueles, Mexico.