Before we share it.
On fear, fire, and when perception becomes proof.
On Sunday, watching the reaction to Nemesio Oseguera Cervantes’s death from outside of Mexico—and bearing witness to the response within Mexico—became a teaching that I hope resonates with you as it did for me.
The cartel is dangerous. I do not take that lightly. Organized crime destabilizes communities across the globe. On Sunday, fire was used strategically—to block the flow of federales and to show force. To ignite fear. And fear, when amplified, can create a sense of chaos far beyond the reality on the ground.
A sense of chaos and chaos itself are very different—and that distinction feels weighty given how we consume and share information today.
I’m writing this on a plane from Querétaro to the States. The plane was delayed because it was held in the U.S for hours—not because anything was happening at the airport, but because it was unclear if something might be. Precaution rooted in possibility. And then the delay becomes the evidence. Flights canceled? Chaos. Precaution isn’t a problem. But when precaution becomes proof, perception starts doing the damage.
The Mexican military had the fires controlled with incredible speed. We received federal and state communications on Sunday that were clear, cautious, and focused on the safety of citizens—not playing into the psychological experiment of fear-mongering.
It struck me as a stark contrast to the energy I was receiving from back home. From our leadership, for sure—but also, I was surprised to see my feed quickly awash with images of Mexico burning. Well-meaning messages of sorrow, but they were not grounded in reality. Some I recognized as AI images that were being flagged here in Mexico. I watched legitimate news outlets blast “shelter in place” without any clarity about what people were sheltering from.
I’m not against people taking the precautions they need to feel safe. I one hundred percent support that. Everyone should follow their own sense of what feels right or uneasy to them. People vacationing here felt fear. I honor that.
And I don’t want people’s feelings being broadcast as truth over major news outlets. I want facts.
Living in Mexico has asked me to be honest with myself about the messages I carried as someone who lived in the U.S most of her life. We all live in America, and yet I am American? Words matter. Soy estadounidense.
That distinction used to land in my body before I had language for it. I remember spending a summer in Latin America in high school and feeling this strange, heavy layer sitting over the rest of the continent—a kind of hegemonic posture the U.S carries toward other North American and Latin American countries. It felt deeply wrong even then. Not intellectually. In my gut.
Because how could it not be wrong, given our implication in it?
Land taken. Resources extracted for centuries by colonial powers. Borders drawn by violence, then defended by narrative.
And then, layered on top of all of that, the sentiment: oof, you have to deal with such violence. It is oof. And—
The demand market is the U.S. Drugs flow north. Guns come south.
Why does that matter? I suppose I am hoping the “Mexico is dangerous” narrative shows up with some acknowledgement of the US role in shaping these conditions. And I am wondering if we are projecting some of our fear around the perhaps more secret, more systemic forms of violence unfolding in the U.S right now?
I feel a sense of responsibility living here and being from the U.S. I was welcomed in by a border patrol agent who said, “bienvenidos a casa.” I burst into tears two years ago, feeling the weight of that welcome—and its one-sidedness—and that weight has only grown since.
My life here is beautiful. We are learning the language and culture every day, and it is not lost on me what an extraordinary privilege it is to be here. Everyone asks me what this life in Mexico affords me. Yes, I have more support in my home than I would in the States. But the answer is much more profound than logistics. I can feel it in my response to what happened in Jalisco on Sunday.
It felt like the U.S was quick to yell “shelter in place” when she saw fire and heard the word cartel in Mexico. But from where I sit in this incredible country—with a president that I respect—I found myself wondering what messages I should be sending to my loved ones up north. Shelter the fuck outta that place?
Ha! No. I love my country. I will never be the person who condemns it outright for its flaws. What hit hard is what we already know—and what I’m being reminded of through a new lens: misinformation is dangerous. The psychology of fear is dangerous. What we can do is educate ourselves, stay grounded, calm, and curious.
I am not saying the cartel—and the infighting that will follow the deaths of El Mencho and his number two—is something to take lightly. Quite the opposite. Sunday was nowhere near the whole of what will unfold. I don’t know how much of the power struggle we will witness—hopefully not much. And please, let’s try to understand it, whatever “it” is, before we share it.
¡VIVA 🇲🇽 !
a joy to read as always 🤗