THE DAY I LEARNED I WAS MEXICAN

I'm a Mexican in the sense that I was born in Mexico. But I didn't pick the country. I just appeared there one day, and after I grew tall enough to go to school, my first-grade teacher explained that I was to be associated with millions of other strangers who were born near me and that we all formed a country. This arrangement came with many expectations, one of which concerned my feelings. I was to show gratitude, loyalty, and pride toward this abstraction called "Mexico," but nobody asked me if I wanted to sign up for the project in the first place.

My teacher told me that between 1521 and 1821, the territory now known as Mexico was run by Spaniards who, like their ancestors before them, believed that claiming ownership over lands that others had already occupied was a great idea. The Spaniards succeeded partly because the Aztecs believed these white men were gods. Why did they think such an outrageous thing? Like all religious answers, this one was logical: the Spaniards had beards.

The Spaniards didn't need myths to subjugate these tribes, though. They had already discovered the magic of social networking – centuries before, one of their guys knew a guy who knew a guy who knew a Chinese man who introduced him to the cannon, which was a slow but showy way to make an entrance. The Aztecs had no Chinese friends, so their weaponry consisted of banana leaves and breakdancing chickens. Ironically, though, disease was the main factor that contributed to the demise of these tribes. The Spaniards killed over 90 percent of the natives with chickenpox. The remaining ten percent, who had lost their family, culture, and sense of truth, were now in charge of answering one question: "So where's the gold?" Because these Spanish geniuses, who still believed Earth was at the center of the universe, also thought they would find entire cities made of gold – and gold at the time was more valuable than humans. It was an era of high standards. Now you can get killed in Mexico for a Nokia flip phone.

New Spain was born, and because people are amazing, the Spaniards from New Spain started to quarrel with the Spaniards from Old Spain over who was more Spanish, so they measured their noses and checked for pointiness. They checked their beards for bushiness and their skin for whiteness. The rumor was true. Some Spanish men from the New World had deposited their seed inside some of the indigenous women and produced a new breed of human called mestizo, which, judging by the standards of the era, was quite inferior. The Old Spaniards didn’t know about the benefits of genetic diversity, and such ignorance gave them the confidence to feel like God's finest creation. So they gave themselves the prize for "Best People," a gesture the Spaniards from New Spain did not appreciate. This prompted the New Spain leader to say, "Grab those Indians and throw them into war while we survey maneuvers from a faraway hill!" And after eleven years of killing each other, the locals who were not dead declared themselves the winners. As their first decree, the winners changed the territory's name from "New Spain" to "Mexico." Their second decree stated that Mexicans with Spanish roots were superior to those who had a tenuous or no connection to the old continent.

From then on, Mexicans grew up with a layered inferiority complex that cascaded down from Old Spaniard to New Spaniard to Mestizo to Indian —and whoever could prove hereditary proximity to Europe held higher value. That is still true today.

"And this is what you want me to sign up for?" I asked my first-grade teacher.

"No history is perfect," she said.

"Can I join a group with fewer sociopaths?"

"I suggest you focus on our heroes."

"You mean the people who died for our country?"

"They are our inspiration."

"What an egocentric idea," I said.

"What do you mean?" She asked.

"To think your early death will improve conditions for people two hundred years in the future."

"They still died for you."

"But what if, before their demise, they could see into the future and observe Mexico today? Would they like what they see? Would they say, I'm glad I died for these people? I bet they wouldn't. I bet they'd say Mexico can't even beat Argentina in the World Cup, much less contribute to the advancement of humankind."

"If it were not for our heroes, our country would be very different."

"That's my point. We may be living in a better country.

"Oh, no. It would be worse."

"How much worse can a country get?"

"One thing you'll learn when you get older is that life can always get much worse."

"Can I be my own country?" I asked my first-grade teacher.

"Of course you cannot," she said. "You need to give thirty-five percent of your earnings to someone."

"Why?"

"So those who collect the money can live in nicer houses."

"And what do I get in return?"

"Potholes."

My teacher showed me a map. She pointed at the north and south borders and told me, you can move around from here to here, but you can't cross these lines and roam around the rest of the planet without permission. You're Mexican, she said, and Mexico only goes from here to here.

"Who owns the planet?" I asked my teacher.

"We all do."

"People?"

"Yes, people."

"Who decided that?"

"People did."

"And why did we split the world up into countries?"

"Because it's easier to organize smaller groups of people."

"Is Mexico well organized?"

"God, no."

"Are other countries well organized?"

"Mostly, no."

"Are ants well organized?"

"Oh, yes. Ants are extremely well organized."

"Are bees well organized?"

"Bees are the embodiment of efficiency."

"What about wolves?"

"We’ve been to the moon, you know."

“Did you?”

“Well, not me personally. But someone did.”

"Are lions well organized?"

"We also invented phones, chocolate, chocolate donuts, hairspray, and the Olympics. I’d like to see lions do that."

"Do other animals have countries?"

"No, they don't."

"Why not?"

"They don't own the planet."

"Did we consult with them about who owned what?"

"We didn't need to."

"Why not?"

"Because we had permission."

"From whom?"

"God."

"How?"

"In books."

"God wrote it down?"

"You better believe it."

"When?"

"In the beginning."

"There were books in the beginning?"

"No. The Chinese invented books much later."

"So, how do we know what happened in the beginning?"

"God."

"God wrote it down."

"I already said that."

"With his hand?"

"No. God dictated it."

"To whom?"

"To a man."

"How do you know?"

"Women were not allowed to write."

"Why not?"

"Because they were considered of feeble mind."

"Why?"

"Because Eve ate an apple."

"And you’re fine with this?"

"Well, that was the way of the world."

"Not anymore?"

"Sort of."

"So, God dictated to a man. What was his name?"

"I don't know. He didn't sign his name."

"And this is how we came to own the planet?"

"Yes."

"And this makes sense to you?"

"Life doesn't have to make sense for it to be gratifying. Just look at the sunshine and the clouds. Look at the ocean, the hotels, and the restaurants that serve lobster. Look at all those lobsters in the tank, waiting to become a five-star meal. They will be delicious."

"If we own the planet, why can't I go anywhere I want then?"

"Because there are geopolitical ramifications."

"What about here?" I pointed at the map.

"That's the United States."

"Can I live there?"

"You can go there for a little while, but after you run out of money, you must return."

"What about here?"

"That's China."

"Can I live in China?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because you don't speak Chinese."

"What if I learn?"

"They'll shoot you."

"Can I live here?"

"They won't let you."

"Why?"

"You don't look Swiss, and they are very particular about appearances."

"What does a Swiss look like?"

"They look like cheese."

"Can I live here?"

"I wouldn't. Honduras is like Mexico but worse."

"There are countries worse than Mexico?"

"Listen, we might not be the best, but we're not the worst either."

"That's a slogan to die for. I bet our heroes would be proud of it."

Then she pointed at a dot on the map. "This right here is Monterrey," she said. "This is where you and I live. We are called Regios. Guadalajara is here, and its residents are called Tapatíos. This other dot is the capital. The people there are called Chilangos, and nobody likes them ­­–just their accent alone. They sound like a wet accordion. But that’s not the point. The important thing is that we’re all Mexican. And yes, we discriminate against each other. That’s true. But we do it to have someone else to blame for the country's problems. The Regio says that corruption happens over here, in the capital. The Chilango says that the drugs and gays come from Guadalajara, and the Tapatío says that classism comes from Monterrey. However, if we step back and look at the country from a distance, we will see that there is corruption, prejudice, and drugs all over the country. And you might think this is terrible, but remember that we have tacos, tequila, a sense of humor, and Luis Miguel – so there's much to be grateful for."