The Expat as a Minority

One unique aspect of being an expat, regardless of where you come from or go to, is you’ll be reclassifying yourself as a minority. I recently read a Washington Post article about African-Americans who have moved back to ancestral lands in Africa, to feel included and not judged anymore. I wish them luck, although I fear they will learn that even if you look like “us,” you may still be “them.”

I’m a white, Irish-German (maybe Polish, too) American man. Apparently I benefited from much privilege as a result of being white and male and American. I never noticed it, but that (they tell me) is the clue it existed. I also came from blue-collar Catholic stock, and I almost never noticed the victimhood that provided me, so it too must have been real. I do recall a family car trip (our only one) through the South in the 1960s, and when I insisted we just stop on Sunday and ask where the Catholic church was, my Dad told me that was not possible. It was decades before I figured that one out.

I grew up in a Catholic enclave, next to a Catholic school, and all my friends (save one) were Catholic. I first noticed everybody wasn’t Catholic at my public high schools. Of course then I went to West Point, where all races and creeds were treated equally poorly: as “bean-heads,” “crots” and several other vulgarities (see the Ronald Lee Ermey soliloquy in Full Metal Jacket). So I never distinctly felt like a minority . . . until I became an expat.

As a fellow of pasty heritage, I’ll never be mistaken for a Latino in general or a Mexican in particular. A proud moment in my life was when a Spaniard told me I spoke Spanish like a Mexican, but that’s as good as it is going to get. I’m too tall, too white, too bossy-acting to ever fit in. So that makes me a minority. Even lakeside, where occasionally (like what you know as Winter) there are as many expats as locals in and around Ajijic (my village), expats are a minority. One only need drive five kilometers east (to the town of Chapala) or west (to the town of San Juan Cosalá) to realize you’re not in Kansas anymore.

I have lots of company. Watching expats, especially Americans, deal with being a minority is interesting. Some never catch on. I hear expats saying things about Mexican culture or politics within earshot of locals and not realizing everything they say is being understood and translated for the people at the next table. Middle class (back home) expats can live like the rich here, and sometimes they adopt rich people’s views that “money makes all the difference.” This is true everywhere, and nowhere more so than in Mexico. Here there is a sliding scale for justice and rule-of-law. Rich expats, like rich Mexicans, can find ways to get whatever they want. Need a driver’s license? You can pay someone to take the driver’s test for you. Need a quick visa? A “fixer” can find the right official to move your paperwork through the system immediately, at a price. The same applies to wealthy Mexicans, who have been known to ignore rules they don’t like. But even wealthy expats should never confuse the ease they have of negotiating life in Mexico with being anything other than an accepted minority.

Expats have been around here for decades, sometimes being people fleeing some aspect of life NOB (north of the border) which they just couldn’t endure. People can live a decent life in Mexico on income that would make them poor in the States or Canada. Some expats fit in better, learning the language, eating at the local stands, buying the Mexican products at the corner tienda. Sometimes they try too hard to be more Mexican than the Mexicans. You’ll see this variety on social media, posting in Spanish about how awful “the Gringos” are. The dead give-away is when they reference NOB politics or culture; few Mexicans care a whit about the politics in el Norte, and they don’t relish social media drama.

Being in a minority status can challenge your established views. NOB conservatives who decried immigrants there who didn’t speak any English are known to scream at locals in English for not understanding them here. Progressives NOB who insisted all must welcome immigrants there and embrace their diversity of culture, food and customs tell expats here they must adopt the local culture and fit in. Goose & gander, what?

Expats sometimes overestimate their influence and importance here in Mexico, mostly as a result of Jalisco having the largest concentration of NOB expats in the world. You may hear some expat say “what if we all left?” or “they need to address our concerns since we bring such economic vitality to the area.” Granted, expats do bring advantages to the region, but they also pose challenges. Expats expect responsive government in a way most Mexicans never would. They demand efficiency and punctuality, two traits distant from local culture. If all the expats left tomorrow, the homes would be filled with Tapatios and Chilangos looking to live the Mexican dream. The hours on the restaurants would change, the translation services would dry up, and little else would change.

All that being said, Mexico has an incredibly welcoming culture. The pluses and minuses of expats for Mexico are generally embraced by the people, just as they embrace whatever situation in which they find themselves. As expats and a minority, my wife and I try to speak some Spanish, try to adjust our eating schedule, try to engage with local culture. The repetition there is intentional, as the key phrase is “try to.” We have happily taken on board a more relaxed attitude to timeliness, been more accepting of inefficiency, and enjoying the pleasures of the moment, whether it’s a good tequila, a beautiful sunset, or a friendly conversación. I’ll never be a Mexican, but there is something about being an American who appreciates Mexico that is special to Mexicans, too.

Being a minority is first about recognizing where you stand in a hierarchy. Then it is all about how you respond to the fact of that standing, which is all up to you, dontcha know?