Homesick for Juchitan

Yesterday, while driving around with Sonya and Kelly, and Alan, we started talking about Mexico again. We agree that we are homesick for it, still. They're both longing for Puerto Angel, Alan dreams about Palenque, and I'm in love with Juchitan. This morning, while surfing the net about weaving, I came across the term, "tejido huave," which means either weaving made by the huave, a people living south of Juchitan, out on the penninsula, or possible even to the weavers themselves-my grasp of Spanish isn't sufficient enough to really know the difference. Right down the highway from my favorite Mexican town is a penninsula sticking out on the ocean, with a town called San Mateo del Mar, which, if I remember correctly, has nearly 10,000 huave indians, with an extremely active weaving community. Juchitan, bieng a matriachal society, has had an appreciation of beauty, and since 1970, in an effort to cultive beauty through the arts, has held annual weaving competitions.
I have a question about matriarchal societies: Who cleans the house? I mean, In Juchitan, we saw beautiful older women all over the market, and a whole lot of drunk men. Do these women run the businesses AND the households, while their gay sons are busy having drag parties and their husbands are drunk?

Juchitan grows a lot of flowers (supprise suprise!). At the market, we bought some jasmine to sniff while walking around the carneceria, with the heat and everything...

This came from the Advocate:
Mexico's queerest corner: the author of Sliced Iguana: Travels in Mexico finds a rare point on the globe where queer life is not only respected but revered
Advocate, The, August 30, 2005 by Isabella Tree

In the hazy glow of a Pacific afternoon two teams of transvestites are engaged in their weekly basketball match. They're wearing microskirts and crop tops and shrieking like schoolgirls. They run as badly as I do, kicking up their heels and flapping their arms around, and throw the ball to each other like it's a bomb about to go off. Their hairdos are miracles of invention and peroxide, with enough hair spray on them to stop a palm tree rustling in a hurricane. Two or three substitutes are lolling about on the sidelines, idly plucking their legs. When they notice me watching, they lift their chins and pose like swans.

This scene takes place in Juchitan, a thriving commercial town on the Pacific coast of Mexico, on the Isthmus of Tehuantepec. It's not something you would see anywhere else in the country (or, possibly; any other). In the rest of Mexico, coquettish gay extroverts like these would be hounded out of town by the local machos: There would be shouts of putos or jotos (pools, faggots), wolf whistles, the odd missile. And their mothers and sisters, far from being the proud champions of womanhood most are here, would likely be struggling to live up to Mexico's more generally accepted image of the ideal woman, the mujer abnegada, a self-sacrificing slave who suffers the iniquities of life in silence, like the Virgin Mary herself.

We cross the street to buy some basil. The herb seller lifts out whole bushes of basil, roots and all, dripping from a bucket, and it's not until I hear her voice that I notice she's a man. She's wearing the traditional lone skirts and braided hair of a Juchiteca, but her hands are big and hairy and there's a prominent Adam's apple above the collar of her huipil blouse.

She gives me a beefy, saucy grin as she hands back my change. [Local women] Natalia and Lanreana laugh when they see my confusion. Peeved, I ask them if all the men in Juchitan are gay. They can't give me statistics, but they reckon at least a third of them must be. They refer to them as muxes, a Zapotec word, and though the phenomenon is widespread across much of the Tehuantepec peninsula, Juchitan, they tell me, is so famous for homosexuality it's known as "Muchitan."

Traditionally, muxes dress, like the basil seller, as Juchitecas. They are honorary women and therefore the only men allowed to sell in the market. Or they wear pantalones like other men, the only giveaway a back-pocket handkerchief or a hibiscus in their hair.

Whatever their plumage, muxes are hugely respected. They're generally regarded as gifted and creative, hardworking, and--until they're crossed in love, at least--patient and kind. Apart from selling in the market and, most often, working as cantineras, or barmaids, many become cooks, seamstresses, hairdressers, florists, set designers for parties and weddings, or they simply stay at home to mind the children and do the housework--a job that is regarded with exceptional admiration in Juchitan.

This is why Juchitecas are often pleased when their sons prove to be gay. "Never mind, perhaps this one will be a muxe," is the usual consolation for some poor woman who's given birth to yet another son. Teenage heterosexual boys, these mothers know, are bound to bring heartache. Juchitecas expect that they'll be disobedient, idle, and wasteful, staying out all hours, endlessly looking for someone to "raise their mast," getting into fights. And they're expensive. To get a son off your hands in Juchitan you may have to set him up with a dowry--some money or some animals or even some land; you'll certainly have to throw the wedding party.

To have a gay son is infinitely preferable. There's no stigma attached to homosexuality here. As one proud and disarmingly frank Juchitec mother explained it to me: "God puts the heat in different holes, that's all."

THE ROAD TO JUCHITAN Getting to this Oaxacan town of 100,000 people requires a short flight from Mexico City to Huatulco. From there it's a scenic three-hour drive to Juchitan.

[ILLUSTRATION OMITTED]

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Thanksgiving Supper

To all my dear southern family. Here is proof that I like that old pastey cornbread dresing...it's growing on me...sort of like the mole on my toe, which I've also learned to love. Here we all are, getting just a little bit bigger!

A borrowed post about Ethics from Paul S.

Three Major Meta-Ethical Philosophies
In modern studied ethics, there are three major philosophies that are followed post-Kant. Kant is the grandfather of modern ethical thought, arguing that because religious texts so often conflict, it is not possible to create a basic framework for ethics, because it is possible to argue multiple responses within the constraints of the same religious texts. Philosophy of Logic was already in place, and using this, he created a new form of ethical thought that forever changed the nature of ethics.

Deontology

Defined by Kant, it was a series of three maxims that could be used to determine an ethical act.

First, all acts must be treated as if they are laws of nature. Hence, if I murder someone, assume everyone would do it, and would nature succeed in such a state? Of course not, so murder is unnacceptable. Also, in the case of lying, everyone would lie, and so nobody would be trusted. Hence, lying would become useless. Therefore, don't lie.

Second, all of humanity must be treated as an end, not a means to an end. Hence, slavery is unnacceptable, because that is the use of human life to reach an end (comfort or production), and not treating that person as an ends in themselves.

Third, you are ethical as long as you create laws within the maxims and follow your own laws.

Difficulties include defining humanity (or the receiver) and laws of nature (generally, what is deserved, such as right to life, or what has value in that situation). Most likely, in the ethics challenge, we'll end up with some form of deontological thought.

Utilitarianism

An act is judged by how much good it creates or bad it destroys. See my previous entry for more information on this.

Some people would argue that Utilitarianism is flawed in that it is possible to reach the conclusion that all life should be destroyed in order to prevent even the smallest pain. While we are a miserable lot, we will look at this later, and we will see if it is flawed.

Virtue Ethics

Aristotle, and later St. Thomas Aquinas, defined virtue ethics, although differently. Both were questionable (Aristotle believed that only wealthy Greek men could be virtuous, Aquinas thought non-believers of Catholicism should be put to death), but that is simply ad hominem, and does not give their arguments its right.

Virtue Ethics were the belief that there were virtuous traits, and by having them, you could be virtuous. Aquinas had a list, but Aristotle defined them as the mean between two disparate qualities (being a coward and being foolhardy were met in the middle with bravery).

People who disagree with Aquinas would say that it is difficult to define virtuous acts (one person could say a virtuous woman is servile, quiet, etc.). People who disagree with Aristotle say that there are infinite virtuous qualities, and that deviation from the means is sometimes necessary to do things that are often virtuous (saving a life through a foolhardy act, etc.).

Virtue Ethics has been noted most often in theological studies, for those who are interested.

Finally

So, what do you guys think, knowing where I come from in all this, knowing what I studied at a Jesuit Catholic University (that often rejected Aquinas outright)? Which is your favorite, and how would you refute it?

For note, the Ethics by Democracy Challenge (if I get 40 people, I'm up to seven), gets off, the result, by my guess, would most likely be deontological in nature. I will not have a vote, by the way, but I'll toss in some twisted rules to vote on, just for fun.

Also to note, these are not the only philosophical ethics, but most others (like theological) are applied or normative.
Paul Salcido

An attempt at humor

Another weaver/blogger overheard this conversation at the Joann Fabrics' cutting counter:

Customer: I want to make linen dinner napkins. What kind of fabric should I use?
Clerk: Um. Linen?
Customer (animatedly): No no! I don't want to use polyester! I don't want to use wool either; I'm against all that killing.

Poncirus Trifoliata

These little hardy oranges (1 1/2" diameter) will grow outdoors in zone 7. I have seen one map of distribution showing that they will grow as far north as PA. They are sour like a lemon, but excellent in iced tea. Anyone want some seeds?

Hands Working

Perdido key.

Judging by our lack of sun burn, these photos were probably taken on the first day at the beach.

Perdido Key, June 2005

We went to Perdido Key, Fla. at the end of June 2005--the weekend of the season's first shark attack. Luckily, the attack was a few miles east of where we swam.

Gram's chair cover

Here's a sneak-preview of the chair cover I'm making for Gram. It is such a joy to work with two solid colors. All of the warp is cream, all of the weft is tan--no switching color loaded shuttles!

There are still flowers...

Friends forever

Poor Kerri, alone in that wet, unfriendly place!

Heddles

It's easy to get lost in the threading...
I started making a Christmas wreath out of black Locust seed pods. It looks similiar to a chilli pepper wreath. At first I thought it might make a nice gift for Auntie Carolyn, but it will weigh too much to ship, I think.

Last week I calculated the warp for Gram's chair cover. Today I decided to beam it before going to work, so that I can begin the tedious process of threading this evening. I've never worked with crochet yarn from Walmart before, so we'll see if I'll be able to keep proper tension with such springy fiber. What is it, anyway? Rayon-poly-super-flammable stuff, I'm sure. Good thing Gram doesn't smoke.

Pataphor

Pataphor (noun):
1. An extended metaphor that creates its own context.
2. That which occurs when a lizard's tail has grown so long
it breaks off and grows a new lizard.


from Wikipedia

A metaphor on steroids?

Aunt Zelda and the French Tickler

The pre-Halloween Party