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INTRODUCTION As a child, I had many fond memories of relatives from Guerrero who always expressed great pride in the Yoli soft drink. This pride for the Yoli derived from its local history that up until recently has been exclusive to the southern state of Guerrero, Mexico.[1] Usually, a thirst-quenching sip of an iced cold bubbly Yoli happened around celebrations with such joy and feelings of accomplishment after something monumental (i.e., a successful work week selling your crops in Mexico City). However, as I grow older, the the humble origins of Yoli and the regionalism associated with the soft drink has left little room for an interrogation of the contradictory popularization of the Grupo Yoli company in the face of its purchase by the world’s largest commodity corporation, Coca-Cola. In the past, aficionados of the Yoli were certain that their favorite soft drink was locally produced somewhere in the state of Guerrero. But now, the story of this local product that is usually described as “meramente Guerrerense” (precisely from Guerrero) is sealed with the Coca-Cola trademark of Atlanta, Georgia. In a classic scheme of corporate capitalism, the Yoli has thus cleverly remained an intimate product to the Guerrerense imaginary, but at the same time has become a mass-produced commodity that forms part of Coca-Cola, the world’s largest commodity corporation. As cultural historian Amanda Ciafone has documented, corporations like Coca-Cola over the years has developed the tools and ability to subtly seep into the everyday cultures and lives of communities across the world making the presence of their products and brand ubiquitous.[2] Despite the immense joy Guerrerenses may feel with Yoli, the hydraulic stress levels in the state and across Mexico caused by climate change and water extraction by corporations like Coca-Cola calls for a reflection and revisiting of the Yoli and its familiar Guerrerense history. More broadly, I propose that we all engage in a conversation and interrogation of the different ways corporations and their products become an intimate part of our cultures. Glass bottle of Yoli with the Coca-Cola logo sported. Image by Hector Muñoz Huerta ([email protected]) Guerrero and its multifaceted community have recently gained exposure in the U.S. diaspora thanks to individual and collective efforts like that of the Guerrerense Diaspora Collective (GDC).[3] Pushing back against the popular narrative that the state of Guerrero is only a terror filled zone, the GDC has taught us that our own narratives and storytelling as people of Guerrero extend beyond fatal and depressing stereotypes. By sharing the politicized history, gastronomy, tradition, and arts of Guerrero ( i.e., The Guerrerense Diaspora Zine Vol. I), a community network across the U.S. forged among people who shared similar and parallel experiences across diaspora. However, with the exposure of Guerrerenses entering popular conversations in recent years (i.e., Ayotzinapa, Child soldiers fighting organized crimes, and people finally acknowledging Afro-Mexican communities in Mexico), a caution sign is needed for us to pause and reflect on where we want to be represented and what that representation means. I mention this as not only the nation-state, but corporations, and institutions have and continue to co-opt narratives and depoliticize struggles that become extremely popular across the media. In the case for Afro-Indigenous and Indigenous communities in Guerrero (Amuzgo, Nahua, Me’phaa, Ñuu Savi) the fetishization of their languages, cosmologies, and traditions coupled with a geography with a complex historical trade history along the Pacific Ocean has led to corporations ushering in and taking advantage of the multiple histories to diversify the way the profit. I argue that this can be seen with the success and pride of the Yoli soft drink in Guerrero and its diaspora. At the national level in Mexico, the co-optation of marginalized narratives brings into question the continued depoliticization and negation of water rights across the country. [4] Organizations focused on political reports in Mexico such as the Laboratorio De Periodismo y Opinion Publica (POP LAB) and American initiatives like the World Resource Institutes Aqueduct Alliance (WRIAA) have similarly observed the increased hydraulic stresses in Mexico (and quite frankly a majority of Latin America along the Pacific Ocean). By compiling empirical data and applying it to interactive maps and prediction graphics, they have shown the need to take action and address the issues of water stress levels and climate that seem to intensify every day (most recently felt with the 7.1 magnitude earthquake in Acapulco).[5] In Guerrero, the urgency for clean water has manifested through specific processes of social and structural violence, like extortions by organized crime of Coca-Cola production plants and the inaccessibility of clean water for most of the residents in the state. As a result, protests and calls for boycotts on Coca-Cola products began to surface across the internet.[6] Marginalized Mexicans in southern states like Guerrero have organized and struggled in the face of human rights violations and unnatural disasters caused by corporations like Coca-Cola, yet these contemporary experiences have been largely erased or disregarded in the romanticized past of its products, like that of the Yoli. THIS REFLECTION IS DEDICATED to all the Guerrerenses in diaspora and what we are witnessing with the growing visibility of our communities through the geographies, foodways, traditions, and iconic items of our home state (chilate, tecuanis, sombreros calentanos, etc.). This is also a historical revisiting of corporate capitalism and the complexities of struggle for water in Mexico during the twenty-first century. What is the connection between one of Guerrero’s most iconic soda pop drinks Yoli and corporate capitalism? How far can we extend our pride in a product without reflecting on its connection to a global crisis of water? And what are the complications of a company merging with Coca-Cola in a country where there are more Coca-Cola products than clean drinking water available for its general population? I argue that the rise and regional pride of the Yoli throws these questions into relief. A BRIEF BUBBLING HISTORY OF YOLI & COCA-COLA IN GUERRERO After Mexico declares independence from Spain in 1821, government officials recognized that Mexico as a young nation needed to join the global economy to be successful and “modern.” Some of these efforts manifested by Mexico absorbing and using existing mining sites established by the Spanish in places like Taxco, Guerrero. Although this absorption proved to be profitable, the presidency of Porfirio Díaz (1876-1922) amplified efforts of modernization during the pre-revolution period by reorganizing public lands.[7] Beneficiaries of this effort by Díaz were companies who were prioritized to aid Mexico in its quest to modernity. Some of these companies included Spanish-owned soap factories that exported a series of oilseeds which was the case of Manuel Castrejón, founder of the Yoli soft drink.[8] As the chaos of the Mexican Revolution (1910-1920) scourged the country in 1918, Manuel Castrejón, a soap vendor and owner of two mines created the original recipe for the Yoli, first named “La Vencedora” in the historical mining town of Taxco Guerrero. As it has been well documented, Guerrero (or what becomes the state of Guerrero) was one of the first mining regions established by the Spanish after the fall of the “Aztecs.”[9] In the twentieth century however, it also became the region where la Vencedora was conceptualized as a drink that was simply crisp and refreshing for its sweet lime peel flavor. With this successful formula, the soft drink quickly became iconic amongst those in Taxco and Guerrero not only for the Yoli’s ability to satisfy thirst but for its iconic bottle aesthetic and marble ball which needed to be shaken to open ( similar to the Japanese Ramune soft drink). The accumulating success for the company that followed meant the attraction of global corporations seeking to solidify its presence in Mexico during the twentieth century as Mexico becomes one of the countries with the largest population of soft-drink consumption. The success of La Vencedora gave Castrejón and his family the opportunity to move to the iconic city of Iguala in 1925. Access to the large population of Iguala aided in the surge and popularity of La Vencedora which led it to be consumed across the rest of the state. Eight years later, “La Vencedora” formally changes its name to “Yoli” in honor of Don Castrejón’s daughter Yolanda Castrejón. In sequence, the Grupo Yoli (Yoli Group) was also formed to formally represent Yoli as a company in 1933. The move from Taxco to Iguala was monumental for the Castrejón family as the Yoli became an intimate symbol and product of Guerrero. With its humble beginnings and organic growth, the popularity of the Yoli came under the cross arrows, bribery, and collaboration of Coca-Cola. In 1938, only twenty years after Don Manuel Castrejón first created the Yoli, the first franchise was granted to The Coca-Cola Corporation. This collaboration between the rather small Grupo Yoli company with the largest commodity corporation in the world nationalized the Guerrero business in Mexico. The partnership and revenue collected with Coca-Cola led to Grupo Yoli’s move to Acapulco in 1950 where the first production plant was established.[10] Using the momentum and prestige of Coca-Cola’s popularity in this tourist trade hub, the success Yoli led to an additional production plant in 1981. However, success for Yoli and its partnership with Coca-Cola would come with public tensions for water rights. The people, collectives, and organizations that would counter the damage Coca-Cola and its partners caused would become more public at the turn of the new century. Critics denounced and labeled Coca-Cola and its quest for profit as environmentally damaging and resulting in the loss of public access to clean drinkable water. CAUTIOUSLY REVISITING GUERRERENSE PRIDE THROUGH THE WARS FOR WATER It is important to interrogate how the convergence between Yoli and Coca-Cola connects to the national discourse surrounding water rights conflicts, health inequalities, and climate change (mainly along the U.S-Mexico borderlands). According to POP LAB, Coca-Cola along with Pepsi, Nestlé, and Bimbo use about 133 billion liters annually to produce their beverages in Mexico.[11] The water that isn’t used for production is introduced to local aqueducts and water supplies which has created public outrage and a contradiction amongst Guerrerenses who find immense pride in Yoli and Coca-Cola.[12] In a country that ranks second in Latin America for hydraulic stress levels and where 23 percent of homes do not have access to clean drinking water, the reverence of Yoli should come into question amid Guerrerense pride in the homeland and its diaspora.[13] For multiple social, political, and cultural contributors in Guerrero, the meritocracy and pride of Yoli as being Guerrerense ignores and romanticizes the impact of Yoli-Coca-Cola on the national and global population. The text translates to: “Junk food companies extract 133 billion liters of water a year. They discard more than 119 billion liters [of water] after industrial processes, dirty water that then is returned to basins and aquifers. The extracted water could provide enough water to the entire population of Guerrero for 1 year.” Photo courtesy of POP LAB, 2019. Much has been written on Coca-Cola’s power of cultural production and ability to globalize and assert itself in the daily lives of people in India and Colombia.[14] Parallels and differences can be drawn with Coca-Cola’s effect in Mexico through its products asserting itself in the daily lives of communities like that of the Yoli in Mexico and specifically in Guerrero. In 2013, the Yoli Group company took their relationship with Coca-Cola further and formally joined the Fomento Económico Mexicano, S.A.B. de C.V. (FEMSA) Coca-Cola based in Mexico City, Mexico. FEMSA currently produces the highest margins of Coca-Cola soft drink in the world distributing to major cities in Guatemala, Costa Rica, Brazil, and Argentina.[15] By joining forces with FEMSA, the conflict, pressure, and opposition against Yoli and its Coca-Cola partner amplified and bubbled across Mexico. Organizations such as POP LAB began to use empirical data and propaganda to demonstrate the material impacts Coca-Cola and other major corporations had on the everyday lives of people in Guerrero. The struggle for water rights in northern Mexico water rights function as a mirror image of water inaccessibility in places like Guerrero. Examples of these water struggles include efforts by Indigenous communities in the U.S. such as the Lakota and #NoDAPL, as well as as the Yoeme (Yaqui) who recently won the battle for water sovereignty in the state of Sonora after more than 80 years of negotiation and conflict with the state. In addition, social movements like Mexicali Resiste and their call to boycott all Constellation brand products (Modelo, Pacifico Victoria) in which Mexican American and Chicana/x/o communities in the U.S. have responded to in recent years has taught us all the importance of water and the power of corporations.[16] As Guerrerenses in diaspora, it is important to see ourselves in these struggles and think about the connections and parallels that we can draw in this national, hemispheric, and global struggle for water amongst marginalized communities, including our own. An analysis of Yoli, amid the exposure our community is getting through its traditions and products is worth our consideration as the world continues to be impacted by climate change. Quite frankly, potential solidarities for a good tomorrow outweigh the investment in regionalism that has propagated over the years with Yoli and Coca-Cola soft drinks. Remembering that by the year 2040, Mexico will be in the “high risk” category of water stress levels if the “Business-As-Usual” scenario continues forces us to reconsider how we convey ourselves and through what products. Pride and exposure to the world (especially the U.S.) of who we are will not matter if our families and communities are without water in Mexico and across the world. Beyond the myopic answer of “there is no ethical consumption under capitalism,” an analysis of capitalism itself is needed to better historicize and contextualize the complexities of corporations like Coca-Cola. What is capitalism and how do we understand capitalism if there is no ethical consumption under it? And if there is no ethics in our consumption, well, are there other ways we can struggle as a diaspora for a better tomorrow? These are only questions that I am beginning to think about as we continue to be drowned by “diversity and inclusion” efforts in the universities we study, the corporations we work for, and institutions we adore. Unfortunately, as we have experienced, short-sighted efforts for “representation” tend to backfire as a diverse and melanin form of capitalism. I mention this as corporations like Coca-Cola have become even more complex to make sense of as they have adapted to the language and culture of activism which has led them to become part of what Anthropologist Marina Welker calls the “Corporate Social Responsibility” movement (CSR) in the 1990s.[17] This specific type of behavior has led corporations like Coca-Cola to acknowledge and mobilize on the issues such as climate change while at the same time continuing to extract and exploit the earth wherever it is they are operating. Thus, I propose a disintegration of the “good” and “bad” binary of how we understand corporations and their products. Using CSR, Welker makes clear how mining corporations in post-authoritarian Sumbawa such as Newmont Inc. have taken on creative tactics to suppress and depoliticize mobilization efforts against their operations in communities that oppose them. By integrating themselves in the critiques and by using racialized bodies (usually their workers who come from the same community in Sumbawa) companies have become witty in their “diversity” efforts to remain operational. Using this tool and history, we can see that it isn’t always the suit and tie Anglo or American who suppresses and does away with community efforts, at times members of the community themselves who find themselves invested in the company’s presence and existence (for whatever reason that may be). Moving forward, a cautious interrogation of our loyalty and regional pride needs to constant, especially through products like Yoli. Being critical of Yoli and Coca-Cola is beyond simply being “critical” for the sake of being critical. Rather, our critical comments are for our survival as a community and for those who struggle too simply be. Now more than ever, the Yoli and FEMSA partnership should encourage people to build and connect with water movements across the country and the hemisphere with Guerrero by linking the historical past with the present. Movements for water such as Mexicali Resiste #NoDAPL, and with the Yoeme along the U.S.-Mexico borderlands aren’t too different in struggle to what is going on in Guerrero and struggles to access clean drinking water. Working to divest and be in communication with water movements not only in the U.S. and Mexico, but across the hemisphere and world requires effort on our behalf. Thankfully, as Guerrerenses, we can look to our own communities and history of anti-capitalist movements that have existed in the recent past like that of the Partido de los Pobres (PdlP) and the Asociación Cívica Nacional Revolucionaria (ACNR). Learning about the PdlP and ACNR movements can prove useful to recognize that our people were struggling with theory and imagining a good tomorrow for all.[18] In addition, learning about the PdlP and ACNR struggles against the Partido Revolucionario Institucional (PRI) and Mexico will help us gather the language and generate ideas to ensure that we do not fall into the traps of neoliberalism as we continue to receive recognition in diaspora. Further, I propose that we interrogate how corporations or institutions that ultimately cause damage to our communities in the name of representation “should” or “ought” to be the end goal for us. Learning from the past may prove useful and collaborative to build solidarities with movements for water and life from Anishinaabe people stopping Line 3 in Canada to the efforts by the Coordinadora de las Organizaciones Indígenas de la Cuenca Amazónica (COICA) struggling against deforestation in the Amazon basin. Perhaps, maybe perhaps these potential solidarities should supersede the nationalism and regionalism we have through a particular product like Yoli and Coca Cola—perhaps. Again, how far can we extend our pride in a product and corporation without reflecting on its connection to a global crisis of water? There is no doubt that Yoli is just as iconic as the beaches and chilate that symbolizes Guerrero. However, the story of Manuel Castrejón and the romanticized story of naming a soda pop company over his daughter quickly becomes less about local or regional history when the introduction of a global corporation comes into the fold. If we are Guerrerenses in diaspora using history, traditions, and products to describe who we are to the world, well, what products should we highlight and what traditions should we let people know about who are not familiar with who we are? And what contradictions should we be comfortable with living amongst global corporate actors that are at times more influential and ubiquitous in our daily lives than the nation-state? In the case of Yoli and Coca-Cola, I propose that we expand on what Yoli was and has become for people who desire or seek to know more about who we are as a community, in diaspora or in the homelands. I also propose that we in the diaspora remain vigilant and complicate our celebrations of corporations living in the U.S., especially if we stand in solidarity with movements across the hemisphere and globe. This is all for a better tomorrow that rests in the uncertain hope to live and smile with our future generations in a world that is constantly changing and intensifying. Ultimately, there is no good representation in diaspora if we aren’t willing to engage with capitalism. Without an analysis or at least a recognition of the problem, we become vulnerable to co-optation by corporations that will leaves us with nothing but recognition. Remember your ancestors and our people for their resilience, but also for their rebellion and the “bad” trouble they offered to create a better tomorrow. Remember Lucio Cabañas and the struggle of the Partido de los Pobres (PdlP) who imagined and forged a rebel Guerrero against bad and greedy government and corporations. Their rebel memory never died and won’t and should not die with us in diaspora. Proceed with caution, please. Joel D. Calixto Joel is a Guerrerense from Tres Palos and Ixcateopan de Cuauhtémoc who is currently in Northern California on the traditional homelands of the Patwin Communities: Cachil DeHe Band of Wintun Indians of the Colusa Indian Community, Kletsel Dehe Wintun Nation, and Yocha Dehe Wintun Nation. He is a member of the Chicanx World Making & Futurities Project and Xicana Tiahui, as well as a passionate cook. Joel is currently a graduate student in the Department of History at the University of California, Davis where he studies the intimacies, complexities, and environmental impacts of gold mining corporations in Latin America and across the Pacific Ocean. Acknowledgements: Many thanks to my Compas Kristian Emiliano Vasquez, Maritza Geronimo, Jayson Maurice Porter, and the Guerrerense Diaspora Collective for inspiring me to write this piece. Much gratitude to Annelle Maranan Garcia for allowing me to expand my ideas on corporations and the environment through our casual talks. Being able to hear them share their ideas on how the Philipinx community makes sense of their diaspora through corporations and representation in the United States was a teaching moment that gave me the direction I was missing for this reflection. Tlaxtlaui. NOTES
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November 2022
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