Sexico

I was dropping off my husband at the maquila this morning and one of the Transporte Personal buses that we saw on Hermanos Escobar and Tecnologico had spinners on the rims. Of course I practically burst into tears from laughing so hard. It also had the go-to Playboy Bunny stickers on all the windows (which seem to be extremely popular among the public transportation circuit here) and featured the signature strobe lights on the inside. I imagine the second you get onto that bus all you can hear and feel is the bass-down-low and music one would only expect to encounter after 1:00 am at a strip club; that may just be my imagination though. I don’t know how anyone would want to go to work in that environment, at a factory where they earn a dollar an hour nonetheless, but of course the majority of the maquiladores are carless and live in outskirts of Juarez so they don’t really have a choice. Seeing the bus and the bunnies and the rims and the club-esque lighting reminded me how sexed-up everything is here. This is not new to me but I have wanted to talk about it for a while.

Everything in Mexico seems to revolve around sex. I always thought the United States was sex-centered, which it is, but it’s a little bit less in your face. I’m sure plastic surgery is more common amongst Americans for financial reasons but in Mexico if feels like everywhere you go, you get smacked in the face by sexiness. I know everyone is going to respond to this by saying it’s the same in the US, but I humbly beg to differ. Here, all you have to do is open the newspaper and there is a buck-naked chick, spread-eagle, with the only thing hiding her nipples and hoo-hoo being three cheesy graphic designs from the Prodigy days that slightly resembles fireworks. How fitting.

Sex is everywhere. Last night, my husband was watching a game show and somehow it’s implausible for the contestants to just be playing the game. That’s not enough for Mexico? They need to be in string bikinis playing the game. The game show host can’t be an endearing Bob Barker type; He needs to be some raunchy, sex-crazed, moderately overweight man who looks like it’s taking everything out of him to not just go down on Maria right there on the stage in front of everybody. It can get pretty disgusting depending on your choice of programming. My husband chooses wrong every time. I like sex just as much as the next woman. Hell, I’ll sit down and watch porn with you, but for some reason I just don’t like it when I can see the weather girl’s nips. There’s a time and place for this people.

What really throws me isn’t the lady on the screen screaming, “Vuelta, vuelta,” it’s the women on the other side of the screen. I don’t get it. The women I have met in Mexico are some of the most reserved, private, respectable women I have met in my life. I am not speaking of Mexican women as a whole, I am only reflecting on personal experiences. From what I have observed, Mexican women tend to be much more introverted, or at least save themselves and their true personalities for their loved ones. I have met a couple women who are as boisterous as the next American gal, but for the most part they seem very introverted. Is this purely their reaction to me?

The women I have met seem very reserved and hesitant to speak their minds about everyday happenings. When we had a neighborhood watch meeting a few months ago at my old house, I was the only woman who spoke. I couldn’t believe it because if anyone should have an opinion about the electric gate, or beggars, or guards, or whatever, it should be the person who is home all day, caring for their children. All the other senoras stared at me, eyes wide, mouths gaping open, as I spoke my mind about the security issues. The men didn’t seem to react oddly. Are Americans known to be outspoken? Is this expected of me? Were they disgusted that I spoke up or overcome with admiration? I couldn’t tell. The women I encounter on a day to day basis are such a stark contrast from what I see in the media that it leaves me completely perplexed.

Basically, these dudes wake up and there is T & A in the newspaper, and then they watch the weather report and the “meteorologista” has a push-up water bra and leather skirt that perfectly accent her hoe-stick and hoo-hoo. Then they get in the car and listen to the radio where all you hear is mamacita-this and mamacita-that to the point that it begins to sound like a phone-sex conversation. They head to the mercado after work to buy some milk and there are women there, promoting beer or bread or shampoo, wearing practically nothing as they try to get you to take their Pan Bimbo coupon. Then of course, after a hard days work, they relax and watch some weird Mexican version of Family Feud where the women are in their underwear, yet again, doing weird things with their bodies that men dare them to do. At least I think that’s what it’s about. Even being bilingual, I struggle to understand the purpose of some of these shows. A Que No Puedes. That’s the one. Even the sports shows have no resemblance to ESPN back home. Women jump up from behind the sportscaster’s desks in plaid skirts that perfectly display their ass cheeks, because, duh, didn’t you know that’s what you’re supposed to wear to a futbol game?

I don’t even know how the hell I am supposed to end this. I don’t think I will ever know. I just don’t it…