"La Gente del Centro" ~ Juchitan, Mexico (c) 2011 Skip Hunt

The bus pulled into Juchitan about an hour and a half earlier than expected. Normally that's a good thing, but when it's not even 5AM yet... it makes it a bit rough with absolutely nothing open yet.

Still dark, I strapped on my packs and set out in a direction at random. Eventually I found someone up and stirring about in a small tienda and asked if I was heading in a good direction to find a cheap room. The fellow was somewhat effeminate and very helpful. He touched my shoulder in a gentle way and wished me luck as I headed off with new instructions. I knew Juchitan as a place where females ruled for the most part and knew there were males who were raised as women from birth in some cases, but I'd read they also wore dresses and makeup. This fellow dressed like an average dude only effeminate.

Although it's tough finding anything open at that hour, it does give you a chance to have a look around under street lights without having to dodge buses and taxis or step around vendors and such while you get a general lay of the place.

The first few hotels were more pricey than I could afford, but I eventually made it to the main plaza and "centro" where I would likely have the best shot at finding budget rooms. The plaza had some very strange human figures made up of cloth pieces. A fine art installation but seemed odd for such a rustic Mexican town.

A policemen in a white t-shirt looking nowhere near as intimidating as most "law" men in Mexico, was very friendly and suggested a couple places where I could find a cheap room. The first one was right on the plaza but I figured it'd likely be noisy once the nearby market got going at daybreak. The second one was a couple of blocks away and I was now desperately needing to find a bano muy pronto. I'd already chanced it by taking a leak on the street without being seen, but the situation was getting a bit more complicated now and a proper toilet was in dire need.

I knocked softly on the metal door of the posada and a tall, wiry and delicate man with long hair answered. He had a room for $150 pesos so I jumped on it sight unseen. I was so glad he answered the door so early and had a room within my budget that I didn't even ask to see it first.

After handing over the dough and giving him my name, I was in my new digs and flipped on the light. Not too horrible, but the bathroom hadn't been finished out in tiling and was really rough and stained raw concrete. Beggars can't be choosey and this would definitely do just fine in a pinch as I tried not to think about how impossible it would be to truly get this rough and raw concrete to any state resembling what some folks commonly refer to as "clean".

At the end of the day (or the beginning as the case was) it was a room with a bed, a lock and my own bathroom. The fellow seemed very kind and I didn't have to walk around for too long in the dark, or in the rain before I found something more or less suitable for a few days. Nor, did I have to resort to drastic measures when it came to restroom facility. So, I'll go ahead and put a checkmark in the "win" category on this one. :-)

After finishing up my nights sleep with about three hours of bizarre dreams, I braved my new shower and then hit the streets.

The market was starting to look alive, but when I got to the end of one side of it, there was some police tape blocking off the road toward the Casa de Cultura where I was headed. I heard a rustic marching band and then saw a whole flock of elaborately dressed women marching with large candles in front of them and in front of the men's band.



Someone told me they were practicing for Guelaguetza and another said they were making a TV commercial.


"Mujeres de Juchitan" ~ Juchitan, Mexico (c) 2011 Skip Hunt

After a few snaps, I worked my way down the street and closer to the action and noticed there was a full film crew with a crane set up. Not your average TV crew. This was the full scale film sort of crew and when they broke to move production into the area inside the church compound and "Casa de Cultura", I slipped in as one of the crew I guess. There were security guards keeping locals out, but I guess because I was a gringo with a camera and appearing to be texting on my iPhone they must have thought I was part of the crew.

I stayed as long as I could until they broke for lunch. I considered sitting down for some free grub too, until it dawned on me that I was likely pushing my luck and someone would surely soon be asking who I was and why I was there. Besides, it was starting to get a bit boring and I hadn't seen much of the town in daylight yet. So, I just casually sauntered out the gate and down the street before anyone noticed.

A couple days later I was chatting with some locals and asking about the men who are raised as women. They told me they are called Muxhe (also spelled Muxe) and they are different than "gay". They said that some are homosexual, but some live and dress as women, marry women and have children.

They also mentioned that either the Discovery Channel or the History Channel (they didn't seem too clear on that point) were just there two days ago making a documentary about the Muxhe. They told me all of those women I'd photographed were actually men. "No way!", I said. They were all way too convincing. They all carried themselves exactly like women and not in an exaggerated drag queen flamboyant way. I said, "Come on! Some had to be women." They said there were a few women mixed in too but most were Muxhe. They told me the leader of the Muxhe was named Cazorla and that I could meet with her/him if I wanted. They gave me directions but I couldn't find the place. Not sure what I would have asked if I'd found her though. Permission to do some sort of documentary might have interested me, but it looked like someone had already beat me to it.

The rest of the time I looked more intently at every female I saw in the market and around the main plaza. Soon, I was picking out the Muxhe with a little more ease. The fellows I chatted with emphasized that there were men who were gay, and that Muxhe were not the same. That some had chosen homosexuality and others had been raised as female from the womb but had sexual relationships with other women.

There were some men who wore dresses, makeup and had long hair. Others wore men's clothing but had makeup on. And the last night there was a traveling music show that set up a couple stages in the course of an afternoon and were packed up and gone by the next morning.

On my way back to the posada that night, I saw three men with short hair, makeup, skimpy dresses that looked like they were hookers, and very high heels. These fellas were much more aggressively flamboyant and sort of hanging around the corner by my hotel. The policeman I'd spoken with had warned me to stay away from the areas with the prostitutes unless I wanted trouble.

As I passed the three fellas in impossibly high heel pumps, I said, "buenas noches". I was carrying a plastic bag of sweet coconut water (cheaper when you get it in a plastic bag instead of a cup) and one of them called out to me saying something about wanting to play with my little coconut bag. I didn't understand what they said at first so I looked back and smiled. It wasn't until they all laughed, whistled and said "Ay Papi!" that I got what they'd actually said. Doh! I just thought they were just admiring my bag of refreshing coconut water.

There was an alley behind the hotel and just below my room. I had the window open and the ceiling fan going. I'm not sure what time it was, but it must have been around 5AM that I heard a low-pitched but effeminate voice that sounded like that transvestite actor Devine. It was a slow moan that called out passionately and constantly for Paaaaah-Pee, Paaaaaaaaaah-Pee. It went on for a good half hour or so. I didn't see anyone in the alley and have no idea what was going on. Perhaps someone was simply having an amorous dream about there Dad and were talking in their sleep? ;-) I haven't a clue, but it was now perfectly clear that I wasn't in Kansas anymore.

Overall, the regular men seemed more docile, friendly and kind with only a few exceptions. You just didn't feel threatened at all there and mostly relaxed and at peace. Perhaps there may be something to considering a more female dominated culture. Worth a shot I'd say. Perhaps there would be less war?

There were also several free community art programs and fun educational facilities for the children were they learned about dance, culture and local ecology.

Juchitan simply felt like a different place than most of Mexico to me. The women there even sat different with their legs spread apart on chairs or stools. Noticed many of them with very hairy arms and a couple older ones with the beginnings of beards. I don't know if that was because females dominate and they don't really care about male ideas of what is acceptable composure for women or if more of the women I saw were actually males or Muxhe.

One thing is for certain, if you are in Juchitan and a "machismo" male, you are WAY outnumbered.


"Tres Chicas" ~ Juchitan, Mexico (c) 2011 Skip Hunt

I am now in Oaxaca City where there's a giant festival called Guelaguetza firing up in a couple days. I'm not keen to stay for the massive crowds, but I may stay for at least the first day of it before making my escape.

The young man running the little coffee shop where I'm writing this, tells me he was born in Juchitan. I told him about my experience there and he was amused. After he looked at my photos of the women, he said at least half of them are indeed Muxhe and not women. See if you can tell which is which!

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Skip Hunt
Austin, Texas