The first stamp on my newly minted passport: Cuernavaca Morelos, Mexico, la ciudad de la primavera eterna (the city of eternal spring). Cuernavaca was a floral oasis, 70 degrees year round. At nineteen years old, I was curious, naïve and full of adventure. As Mexico was my first study abroad and international experience, the love affair began. Mexico opened my eyes to the outside world. Like most tourists, I was enamored with the beaches of Acapulco, climbing Teotihuacán, visiting Tenochtitlan, eating tamales, speaking in rich Spanish tones, and dancing salsa until la madrugada with mexicanos guapísimos. I returned to Mexico annually for five years, consecutively. I found it difficult to let go of my adopted patria. Like most relationships, my love affair with Mexico was complicated. Soon, I would be forced to recognize that there was injustice everywhere.
Poverty was not foreign to me. In my own country, I had grown up in poverty. Both my grandmother and mother worked as housekeepers for most of my childhood. Often times, I would accompany my grandmother to work to help her clean, or to babysit her employer’s grandchildren. We would either catch the city bus or drive my grandmother’s unpredictable hooptie. My grandmother cleaned for wealthy White doctors in the exclusive Buena Vista community of my hometown. I later learned that those Spanish words meant good view; however, I recall the dissonance that I experienced as a child when we crossed Liberty Street, the Black part of town, to enter Buena Vista.
My grandmother’s boss, Mrs. Peebles, would drive us home sometimes. Notwithstanding rain, snow or extreme heat, she made a hard stop at Liberty Street, citing that she was advised never to cross that street. She would drop us off at Liberty Street, forcing us to walk several miles to reach our home. Of course, at 12 years old I had no idea how the outside world viewed our community at the time. Therefore, I did not understand why Mrs. Peebles feared the very community that I loved…a community that had nurtured and protected me.
Unfortunately, the dichotomy between rich and poor was also apparent in Mexico. At the age of 19, Mexico birthed something in me that I could not disregard. I saw life in another context, yet familiar and reminiscent of my own community. Mexico allowed me to comprehend how history, politics, race, religion and so many other dynamics define societies. A few years after studying abroad in Mexico, I became a Study Abroad Director. One day, while in the Director’s lounge of my University in Mexico; I met a Mexican housekeeper named Amalia. She was small in stature with short black hair. Her high cheekbones and caramel complexion highlighted her indigenous heritage. Amalia entered the lounge and began to clean. As I watched her dust, empty the trash, and perform her duties, she reminded me of a younger version of my grandmother: so diligent, so focused, so kind.
Each day Amalia was tasked with making a pot of coffee for the directors and professors. Rarely did anyone actually drink the coffee. Quotidianly, I noticed Amalia performing the same rituals. One morning, she entered the Director’s lounge sheepishly, and asked to speak with me. Amalia explained in Spanish that she makes the coffee every day and no one drinks it. At the end of her shift, she throws the entire pot away. Since I was the only one who drank the coffee, she asked if I would mind if she had one cup each morning as long as all of her chores were completed. I looked at her in wonder. A conversation in Spanish ensued.
– “Amalia,” I said –my Spanish now embellished with a twist of Black girl attitude, “I am a visitor here. I do not buy or sell the coffee. Please get whatever you’d like. You do not have to ask for my permission.”
– “You’re the only one that I see drinking the coffee,” Amalia explained, “but the bosses said that if employees want coffee they must buy it from the cafeteria. If I buy the coffee in the café, it costs me 15 pesos, and I only make 600 pesos ($60 US dollars) per week.”
– “At the end of the day, don’t you just throw the unused coffee away?” I asked.
– “Yes, but the boss is very strict about us using anything that has been designated for directors or professors.” Amalia explained.
– “From now on, don’t ask for coffee. Just take a cup. Hell, take two or three or four.” I replied frustratingly.
Amalia gave me a hug, and then she served herself. She walked out of that office as if she held gold in her hands. She was humbled by my benevolence. I did not feel that I had done anything worthy of praise. I had given a human being something that would be discarded, and then licked up by stray dogs. Amalia had caused me to ask some stirring questions that I still wrestle with today. This experience forced me to look more critically on a global scale at issues of race, class, gender, and access.
I was staring privilege squarely in the face over something as minuscule as coffee. What were the larger implications? My students’ tuition for a summer stay in Mexico would take Amalia months to earn. I will never know if my actions actually caused Amalia harm. Did the university administrators ever learn of Amalia’s defiance and my encouragement? Did my actions cost Amalia her job, her livelihood? Coffee over people. In the moment, I did not consider any of these dynamics. I was simply unnerved to see a grown woman cowering over coffee, a reaction that I had observed with my own grandmother in her interactions with Mrs. Peebles.
I pray that everything worked out in Amalia’s favor. Today, as I assess injustices that are perpetuated throughout the globe, I continue to question a society that allows me to sip the coffee that Amalia was forced to throw away.
Note: The events of this blog post occurred around the year 2000.
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They explained that a woman‟s primary role in Mexico is to obey her husband and her family while caring for the home and children. This embodiment of la calle and la casa re- flects the traditional gender roles that have defined men‟s and women‟s identi- ties in the past.
Why did’nt she just get a new job to to earn more money.
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Hector, you have brought in some really good points. With respect to gender roles, tradition can be the enemy of progress. With respect to getting a better job, research shows that upward mobility, or going from a low paying job to a higher paying job is quite difficult. It requires new skills, open doors, connections, sometimes more education, a different mindset, etc. So it’s complicated.
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because she felt the need to stay at her job that she had down pack and she showed solidarity cause she didn’t want her there anymore
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I feel as though they didn’t give her the coffee because of her race and I also feel as though that was prejudice of them to say that she’s the only one that had to pay for the coffee. Krishauan’s grandmother and Amaila went through the same thing kind of because of. The grandmothers boss didn’t drop her off at her home because of her neighbor hood and amaila couldn’t get the coffee because of her skin color which I find unprofessional.
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Beonka, I like how you made the connection to my grandmother’s experience and Amalia’s. I believe that hearing my grandma tell these stories over the years helped me to have greater compassion and understanding related to social class and the way people are treated.
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We actually like this article because Amalia and her grandmother experience represents many peoples stories and things that they went through. If Amalia and her grandmother were a different race or gender they would not have been treated this way. It’s disappointing how people are treated because of the way they were born, when we’re all the same inside. Color, gender, or ethnicity do not determine who we are or how we act. Everybody is different in their own way!!
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Thank you for your comments Taciana and Amare. Yes, we are all different in our own way. That is what makes our diversity so rich! When people refuse to see or acknowledge this beauty, they deny themselves of our power and contributions.
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Hello, Dr. Krishauna Hines-Gaither. I really like your article Coffee over people. It is very impactful and I love how you gave Amalia support and helped her out!
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Queenie Herard, Sister Miranda’s Second Block- The story shows the solidarity and understanding between woman of color, it was very nice on how Amalia’s work environment was similar to you’re grandmother. It shows the effect on how many people experience indifferences compared to privileged people.
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What did you think of the project when you were growing up there and how does it reflect on how you are today ?
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Something that I liked about this passage was when amalia was kind enough to the visitor and she told her to get whatever she liked and she said she doesn’t have to have her permission so that was really nice and also when she said she Disney even really have to pay for it she can just get all the coffee she wants!
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I really like this story because Amalia and her grandmother experience represents many peoples stories and things that they was going through. If Amalia and her grandmother were wealthy they wouldn’t have been treated this way. It’s a shame how other people are treated because of the way they were born, when we all human nd bleed the same inside. Color, gender, or background do not determine who we are or how we act. We are not the same we all different
Lik
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One thing I learned while reading this book was how the world can be hard on a African American or Mexican woman rather that a white woman. The solidarity you showed was that the people in this world might say thats you cant do think but you really can do anything you want. To me it was a really lovely passage because I reading and learning about black culture is really fun and interesting. It also can be a lot of great information you didn’t know thats you could learn about with black and Mexican culture. What is you favorite think to talk to your students about or teach them ?
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It’s a shame how other people are treated because of the way they were born, when we all human nd bleed the same inside. Color, gender, or background do not determine who we are or how we act. We are not the same we all different
Lik
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What I saw in this passage is that the dichotomy is always between the rich and poor and it everywhere in the world. Even though it a different country the rich and poor will always have a dichotomy.
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Me personally I didn’t really care not gonna lie. I did like how she relates with her grandma to Amalia. The story was quite broing but it wasnt bad
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I think that giving her that coffee made Amalia comfortable and being able to get coffee when she makes it. This show women of different race and don’t get the same treatment as everyone else at the work and all she wanted was some coffee and the boss says not. This helps women of different race speak louder
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I feel that Dr. Krishauma showed how you could be treated different by your race or by the community you live in .
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the story is good, it displays how different races can come together based on the same experiences while still remaining shocked when they find out they’ve gone through the same thing.
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I feel that this article is inspiring for Black and Mexican women. I was showing solidarity that no one should fear one cup of coffee. That everybody should get as many as they want and fear nothing. Coffee is not more important than people. Even if we are different in race or gender, we are all human.
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This passage is very interesting and taught me a lot about other communities and how different people lifestyles can be from others and I really like how other countries can really open people viewing overall I really enjoy this story .
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I feel as though this is a good read especially dealing with the fact of social divide and injustice not just being in the united states.
It also shows that something as little as a cup of coffee can make a change and difference within peoples lives.
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I liked this story a lot. It shows how no matter where you are in the world the same things can happen to you or people around you. For example being in poverty and being a black woman. Amalia felt a type of comfort when you came and drunk some of the coffee instead of letting it go to waste. I feel like women should get treated better in the work industry and it shouldn’t matter if they’re poor, black or foreign. At the end of the day they are still human.
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I loved this read, I love comparison between both cultures yet very different still very similar. I also love the talk that you and Amalia empowering her and giving her a voice yet it might of been a small gesture for you it impacted her in a way you may never guess. This passage also gives an insight to women in the work industry and they are mistreated and treated horribly.
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Jose, thank you for your insightful comments. I appreciate your taking the time to read this post. Blessings!
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