RELATED ARTICLE “Carving New Pathways with Photojournalism Students” – Josh Meltzer
To see more of Meltzer’s work, visit his Web site.My Fulbright project in Mexico centered on migration within the country. It perhaps has had a larger impact on Mexicans than the better publicized story of immigration to the U.S. Just as America rapidly became urbanized in the early 20th century, Mexicans are moving from rural regions to large Mexican cities at increasing rates. Though much of what the cities offer—electricity, running water and education—is good, families often discover that moving to urban areas can be difficult and dangerous, especially for children.
Migration within Mexico has perhaps had a larger impact on numbers of Mexicans than the better publicized story of immigration to the U.S. Just as America rapidly became urbanized in the early 20th century, Mexicans are moving from rural regions to large Mexican cities at increasing rates. Though much of what the cities have to offer—electricity, running water and education—are good, families often discover that moving can be difficult and dangerous, especially for children. Antonio Hernandez carries his daughter Angela to her baptism ceremony through a broken fence on land outside of Guadalajara where they have been living rent free in partial exchange for making bricks. The family moved from the neighboring state of Zacatecas
Teenage girls wait for a recess game to start in the indigenous Huichol village, Tuxpan de Bolanos, in the rural part of the state of Jalisco, home of Mexico's second largest city, Guadalajara. Many of the village's residents, especially males, have left the villages for big cities, or have entered the Mexican military
Wearing their traditional handmade clothing, Don Juan Lopez, his wife Maria and their youngest daughter Paola, 1, receive a cold stare from a stranger while on a visit to Guadalajara from their indigenous village. Their daughter suffers from hydrocephalus, a dangerous swelling of the head. They regularly bring her to the city for checkups with a doctor
Rocio Suarez bites the fingernails of her son Juan Carols, 1, while taking a break from the hot sun washing windshields. Rocio came to Guadalajara, a city of 7 million people, from a neighboring rural state as a child. She is now raising her children on the streets while she and her husband work
Estrella Suarez, 3, naps in the median of Federalismo, one of the busiest six-lane highways through the city of Guadalajara, Mexico. Her parents wash car windshields for 12 hours a day while she plays in the median and her younger brother, 1, sis all day in his stroller
Humberto Juan, an indigenous Mixteco from the southern state of Oaxaca performs headstands at red traffic lights to earn a hundred pesos per day. It is barely enough to cover his rent while in the city for a few months with a little left over to bring home to his family who are all out of work
Raw sewage and garbage fill the pathways between shacks where migrants from the neighboring state of Zacatecas have formed a community of brick makers. The community, home to nearly 150 families, has no public services and no public education
Jesus Raul Gonzales, 12, an indigenous Purepecha from the state of Michoacan, sells fruit on the streets of one of Guadalajara's richest neighborhoods, Providencia. Working 12 hours a day at a time, he, his parents and siblings make enough money to bring some home with them to their village every three to four months
Juana Martinez comes out of her family's home in her Quinceanera dress, ready for a night of partying, a rarity in a community of brick makers who work seven days a week. The celebration is a tradition in Mexican families to welcome a girl into adulthood
Indigenous Otomí women gather at their twice-monthly meeting of Mnini, an artisan cooperative that they formed in 2008 to sell their hand-stitched bags and tablecloths of traditional design. The 18 women in the cooperative came to Guadalajara in the past decade from their homes in the state of Querétaro where they were unabl to find work. Most are street vendors, selling potato chips, unable to afford the city license that protects them from high fines and harassment from the authorities. The women sell their bags in the U.S. and Canada through fair trade organizations. They hope to expand that business so they can give up being street vendors
Siblings Liliana, Silvia and Efrayn Martinez ride in their uncle's truck to the bus station. They planned to illegally enter the U.S. to live with their parents in Tennessee, whom they only know from telephone calls. The siblings, all indigenous Otomi from the state of Queretaro, followed their aunt and uncle to the city of Guadalajara after their parents moved to America. The trio were unsuccessful in their crossing and returned to Guadalajara a week later