We both go way back. Mexicans and Americans. My ancestors had been on this continent way before the Americans arrived. Mine were centuries-old civilizations that were eventually conquered by the Spaniards. The pilgrims, on the other hand, were from the old continent. They’re the most notable forebears of today’s America. After all, they eventually did away with most of the natives. They were fed up people, most of them seeking religious freedom and a home on pristine land. Those pioneers settled in North America some four hundred years ago.
While the pilgrims were busy running their colonies, fighting the natives and learning how to survive at a precarious place, my pre-colonial ancestors, well, most of them didn’t have a choice. They were suddenly conquered people, turned into slaves by greedy and heinous rulers who came from Spain and who extracted almost every ounce of wealth hidden in the bosom of our land.
Those predecessors of mine were kept docile and unlearned, with almost no access to schooling or to the practices that could eventually lead to self-government. While Americans were fighting off the English Crown, declaring independence and seeking justice for all, Mexicans were still the servants of the conquerors and of their descendants.
Nothing much changed after Mexico declared its own autonomy in the year of eighteen ten. Because the new nation continued to be ruled by the same people. Still by the Spaniards, the Creole kind, but still the same folks. Americans, on the other hand, were working on building a large and powerful nation. They were looking to the south, but also to the west, for new territory to tame and control. Fueled by beliefs of expansionism, they eventually went after coveted land. Much of it was Mexican.
That land fever wasn’t good for Mexico or for the relations between the peoples of both countries. It’s been a struggle ever since. It’s ironic, too.
We allowed Americans to come into what was then the Texas province, to live and work there. And to raise their families there. But they eventually made that place their own. We taught them the cattle business and gave them tips on how to survive on the open range. We showed them how to cook food underground so it would last longer. We called it barbacoa. They couldn’t pronounce the word, so they called it barbeque.
Incidentally, Americans picked up a whole bunch of words from us, like rodeo, reata, lazo, juzgado, desesperado, and vaquero. They changed the spelling of most of them. Some words became lasso, hoosegow, and desperado. Vaquero became cowboy.
It must have been fun, though, working together, taming the west. I think we made a pretty good team.
But then the Americans got greedy. They decided to take over the Texas province and fought to get it. However, they didn’t stop there; a few years later, and with the help of other land-hungry Americans, they went after other places in the west. It was manifest destiny, they said, a divine calling, to expand America’s borders from sea to shining sea.
Eventually, America invaded Mexico and took a big chunk of its land, in 1848, after winning that war. My ancestors were now living on both sides of the border. Sort of like it is nowadays. The ones on the U.S. side became second-class people, men and women without a nation to call their own. People in limbo. Most of them lost their real property, too, and for almost all purposes, had now no legal rights, although citizenship and protection by U.S. law had been guaranteed by the pact that settled the U.S.-Mexico War: The Treaty of Guadalupe-Hidalgo. Talk about illegal residents on their own land.
There’s much more to be told about how us Mexicans and Americans got to know each other really well, especially during that troubled past that didn’t end up well. We really got to know each other, it’s worth repeating. We invited them into our homes, onto our land, into a place called Tejas, and they eventually stabbed us on the back.
Shall we continue to cry over spilled milk? Nah. We must let bygone be bygones. After all, and over the years, we’ve learned to continue to work together. Somewhat. Just like we did in those early Texas days, but doing different stuff now. Often doing some of the work that the locals no longer want to do. The list is long. But it’s a type of teamwork that not everyone fully understands. Especially the fanatical folks that continue to drink the MAGA Kool-Aid and blindly support the doings of the current administration. A corrupt body of government that continues to spread fear and divide the country with its cult like practices.
A corrupt body of government, too, that is turning our once great nation into a banana republic.