Honky Mexican


I’M A NON-HISPANIC Mexican. A white, Spanish-talking, Georgia-born, grits-eating Cracker, taco-loving Mexican married to a brown-skinned, (mostly) non-English-speaking Latina born in a town called Uruapan, which you likely cannot even pronounce correctly, but I can.

I’m an American lefty’s multicultural wet dream, more diverse than most anybody you know above the Rio Bravo. Ain’t dat something?

Georgia flag

But I don’t demand respect or preferences or a front-row seat in any university classroom or boardroom or any sort of room whatsoever. I mind my own business and drink my cafecitos quietly.

I don’t support multiculturalism in spite of being one of its shining stars.

Ain’t dat something too?

I’m a honky Mexican, a member of a very elite group.

We fly no angry banners. We hold no meetings. We never take to the streets in a snit. We came into the country legally, and went through the process, jumped through the hoops and got the papers. Now we’re just danged happy to be here.

Looking around, I see universities, scholarships, trade schools, help-wanted ads in newspapers and in store windows, ease of starting a business, modern shopping malls, love of capitalism, great highways, a fine healthcare system, an improving economy, and a growing middle class.

It’s enough to make a honky Mexican grin into his plate of beans while he’s dreaming of grits and butter.

15 thoughts on “Honky Mexican

  1. I am with you! (A fellow minority — although I am not a Mexican citizen — I did have an FM3.) We don’t demand anything other than our HOT Mexican brides and delicious Mexican food!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Mike: You gotta good way to go before becoming a bona fide honky Mexican like me. You gotta get your papers and you gotta live here. Those are the basic requirements. I am confident that, in time, you will complete the process. And you will be happy for it.


  2. Damn it, you are painting a rosy picture of life down here and just may convince Northerners to venture down here for a visit. Stop It!

    They need to know that life is tough here. You have to go to the market everyday or so for your fresh fruits and vegetables, even though they cost a fraction of what they charge north of the border and your precious cafecito is a quarter of what Starbucks charges. You have to sit down and wait for over 3 or 4 minutes for someone to bring it to you.

    There is no instant service which you have to get accustomed to. You wind up spending all your time either reading or braving the streets developing a relaxing routine for yourself. There is just too much free time and the worst thing is that everyone leaves you alone and has respect for your time!
    Stop it!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Yeah, Felipe. You might tell your readers how we have to dodge bullets every time we go out in public, how every single phone call is from an extortionist pretending to be a nephew we never had who is stranded at the bus station in Guadalajara, how we can’t drink the water and frequently have to brush our teeth with beer, how there is nothing to drink but tequila and Coca-Cola, and how we nap every afternoon under a cactus. You must tell them that we are forced to hire people to clean our houses. We are not even allowed to pump our own gas. And if that’s not enough, there never are price wars or even Green Stamps at the gas stations.

      Why it’s so bad down here that the restaurants don’t even know enough to offer diners bottomless bowls of chips and salsa like all Mexican restaurants do in the US. Moreover, there are no combination platters where you can get enchiladas, refried beans, tamales, taquitos, and chimichangas all in a single order.

      If all that’s not enough, hardly anyone down here speaks English. Street signs, menus, everything’s in Spanish. What are they thinking?

      Liked by 1 person

  3. In the 30 years that we have traveled in Mexico we have seen the changes you have described and liked what we are seeing. Is it possible the American Dream is slipping south of the border?

    Bruce in MN


    1. Bruce: I moved here over 14 years ago, and the changes in just that time have been very dramatic. The highways, cell phones, shopping malls. The list is long, and it gets longer every day. As for the American dream slipping, it’s already slipped.


  4. I am the product of a mixed marriage, half-Danish and half-Swedish. My late wife was half-Chinese and half-Filipina, and I have two lovely Eurasian daughters. I have known most of my life that someday I would live in Mexico.

    If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away.
    Henry David Thoreau


    1. Andrés: I’m not sure that I would call you a half-breed based on having one parent Danish and the other Swedish. Kinda like saying you’re a mulatto if your dad’s from Alabama and your mom’s from Mississippi. It’s pretty much the same thing. Now, the Chinese and Filipina elements combined with your Scandinavian genes is a different matter, according to — well — me.

      I like Thoreau, no matter what.


      1. Felipe: The Filipinos are the Mexicans of Asia. They were under the yoke of Spanish imperialism from 1521–1898. They are brown skinned mestizo Catholics with Spanish surnames and a Spanish culture who were ruled by Americans for 40+ years.


  5. And we’re a couple of lefty-ish Yankees (Mets fans, actually) driven out by a tax-hungry overbearing municipal government, where we’ve befriended Republicans just to tweak the machine politics that suffocate us. So go figure. You might be an anti-diversity diversity poster child, but we’d qualify to speak at CPAC next year on the topic of “The American Dream.”

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Imagine: Thanks for the visit. I’ve noticed you elsewhere, plus your “lefty-ish” tendencies. I take the “ish” to mean that you are beginning to see the error of your ways. I hope so. “Overbearing government,” “suffocate,” etc. You are listing the problems of leftism, an idealistic, (usually) well-meaning stance that, sadly, never works out.

      We on this side welcome you with open arms.


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