Just a few weeks ago, I went to a private screening of a rough cut of the movie Milagros: Made In Mexico. It was directed by Detroit native, Martina Guzmán. The movie documents the story of Mexican women in the state of Guanajuato that are left to deal with the aftermath of the men coming to work in the United States. During the course of addressing these repercussions, they open up microenterprises in order to be able to provide for their children and, by consequence, help to sustain their communities.

As I watched the movie, I wondered why it focused on Guanajauto. Guzmán explained it during the Q&A session following the screening. Prior to working on the movie, she was living in North Carolina, which has a huge population of Mexicans from Guanajuato. Since she kept hearing stories originating from Guanajuato, it made sense to have the documentary take place there.

Many of the movie’s images recall ones of Mexico that are seared into my memory: the tall propane tanks used for cooking, the fogón (crude wooden stove used for cooking), the rebozos (shawls), the little shops along cobblestone streets, the women’s embroidery and the accents that are like the soundtrack to numerous childhood trips to Mexico. When I saw these things, they opened up some sort of wound that I didn’t even know existed. Even though I’m raised American and consider myself as such, a huge part of me is Mexico. While I would never give up my home here, a part of me longs for Mexico. If this is how I feel, I couldn’t even imagine being someone having to give everything that they’ve known for the precarious promise of a better life here. What this movie really captures is longing: the women longing for their men to return and that of the men for a country that they might never see again.

One of the things that I found interesting is how the women earned a living with their more limited skills and little access to resources. Traditionally, men were the only ones allowed to be in the public sphere. Men were allowed to work. Men were allowed to gather. Men could get loans to open or expand their businesses. The women were expected to stay home, keep the house and raise the kids. The women seemingly had less to work with and, in the end, did more with this. Whether it was making rugs, cajeta (caramel made from goat’s milk) or dolls, the women were at least able to provide for themselves and their families.

Often times, the women did better than the men. There was one instance of men having their own business. The man in charge learned weaving from his mother. He found some guys to help him with the business. Things went decently until one of them went to the city and succumbed to its vices. In the end, this guy pissed away the men’s money. Among the women that particpated in the film that had to go to the city to sell their goods, this never once happened.

In the end, Milagros paints a visceral picture about Mexico’s fragmentation. Young people are so hungry to move forward and away, while pinning their hopes on an uncertain and very precarious future. Families are split apart as they try to adapt their traditional values and customs, as well as gender roles, to an increasingly modern world. The men leave for the US to provide for their families but what happens to the families that are left behind? Milagros doesn’t so much provide answers  but brings up the important questions that have not been asked.