My perception of "Mexico".

When I began contemplating what I think of Mexico the first thing that came to mind was the depiction of factory workers; men, women and children suffering in the underpaid, mostly under U.S. companies, work force while the company maximizes it profits. I began thinking of the working conditions that these workers face and the harsh reality, that as long as corporations can operate in free trade zones; in countries that encourage and welcome big corporations (do to the revenues they bring) into the country, and do not enforce an equal employment act which provides workers with vital rights under that law and protection against mistreatment, nothing will change...

The following is a URL of a website that provides more information about sweatshops in Mexico: http://www.newint.org/easier-english/Garment/sweatmexico.html (copy and paste).

The next thought that came to mind was the splash of Cancun, Mexico. A place you can go to let loose, stay in luxury hotels on the white sandy beaches and eat authentic Mexican food while you sip on margaritas. All while the locals work in the service industry which provides this luxurious get away. And the ruins of the agent cities of the indigenous people become a tourist attractions

http://www.cancuncd.com/m_cancun_pictures/

I remember as a child traveling into Taiwan, Mexico. The dirt road stirring up dust and the children chasing our car with bead necklaces, small maracas and other trinkets they held, grasped in their hands, hoping we will stop and buy these goods they sell. The area was dirty and trash just lay scattered on the ground. The buildings weren't much more then plywood boards nailed together and sewage ran in the street. As a child this image resonated in my mind. I remember feeling the sadness and confusion of not understanding why they lived in such poor conditions. What I didn't understand then was that Taiwan is one of the poorest places in Mexico and that not all of Mexico lives in such an unimaginable environment.

My step-father having Mexican Heritage, it wasn't uncommon for my parents to hire Mexican men who stood on the sidewalk along the street in front of San Lorenzo Lumber in Santa Cruz, Ca. I watched these men work in my back yard my family along side and eat at my families table. My step-father spoke to them in Spanish, a language I do not know, and though he never said anything derogatory or resist, I knew that there was a difference between my step-father and these men who labored long and hard to earn the mere 9 dollars an hour my parents paid them.

My reality quickly changed when I entered the foster care system and many of the other youth the occupied the foster homes and group homes were Mexican Americas. Many of them had family members who migrated to the U.S illegally in order to find work and send money home to help support family still in Mexico. They told stories of poverty, something we hear about in media, but they gave this problem a face and voice. Now when I think about Mexico I think of a country that's people are largely supported by the money that migrant workers send home. I imagine the girls and boys that live with relatives while both their parents are away, working for their survival. When I think of Mexicans' I think of a strong and proud people that have lived through such adversity and yet remain unbroken, striving for a better future.