When the world gets closer.

We help you see farther.

Sign up to our expressly international daily newsletter.

Already a subscriber? Log in .

You've reached your limit of one free article.

Get unlimited access to Worldcrunch

You can cancel anytime .


Exclusive International news coverage

Ad-free experience NEW

Weekly digital Magazine NEW

9 daily & weekly Newsletters

Access to Worldcrunch archives

Free trial

30-days free access, then $2.90
per month.

Annual Access BEST VALUE

$19.90 per year, save $14.90 compared to monthly billing.save $14.90.

Subscribe to Worldcrunch
Green Or Gone

The Problem With Ixtle, Mexico's Ancestral Solution To Plastic Bags

Artisans who produce the natural fiber have mixed feelings about its success.

The Problem With Ixtle, Mexico's Ancestral Solution To Plastic Bags

Antonia Doñú and Alfonso Paloma make thick yarn from ixtle fibers

Aline Suárez del Real

CARDONAL, MEXICO — Plácido Paloma places a maguey leaf on a log and scrapes it with a long, wide knife. His face and arms strain, but his scraping is efficient and delicate – just enough to remove the green pulp of the maguey plant, a type of agave, revealing a tuft of blond fibers known as ixtle.

Paloma is proud of his work. He is a member of the Wäda group – a collective of 14 artisans in the town of Cardonal in the central Mexican state of Hidalgo – which has been working since 2013 to preserve the language, traditions and ancestral knowledge of the Hñahñu people, Mexico’s fifth-largest indigenous group.

An environmentally-friendly comeback

Since pre-Hispanic times, the Hñahñu people – also known as the Otomí people in Spanish – have lived in the Mezquital Valley, north of Mexico City, and have used ixtle to make bags, brushes, clothing and other items. The group also derives its name from the plant: Wäda means “maguey” in the Hñahñu language.

Ixtle products were common throughout Mexico until the middle of the 20th century. But starting in the 1970s, ixtle fell out of fashion in favor of plastic products, which are less expensive to produce. Now, ixtle is making a comeback as an environmentally friendly alternative to plastic – particularly since local initiatives to ban single-use plastic bags have succeeded in at least 23 Mexican states. Mexico City’s ban on single-use plastic bags went into effect last year.

“The ixtle bags can help replace the plastic bags that people used to use,” says Raúl Zárate, who sells sustainable products in the State of Mexico.

A production challenge

But for the artisans of the Wäda group, the renewed popularity of ixtle has presented a new kind of challenge. For example, a representative of a large national company recently came to the group with a request to make 8,000 ixtle bags, says Antonia Doñú, a member of the collective.

“We said no,” Doñú says. “Our production is not industrial. To fulfill a request of that volume, we would have to overexploit the land.”

Being part of the zero-waste movement means prioritizing the environment over convenience.

Instead of stretching to meet the demands of the market, the Wäda group works according to what the environment will allow. It typically takes eight to 15 years before a maguey plant is mature enough to be cut for ixtle, and the amount of ixtle they can sustainably extract from the maguey determines how many items they can create. Given those constraints, it’s not possible for ixtle to be a complete substitute for plastic bags, at least not in the short term.

Bags and other ixtle products are displayed for sale at the Wäda group’s workshop and exhibition space

Aline Suárez del Real/Global Press Journal

 Two sides of the zero-waste movement

This tension highlights a contradiction at the heart of the movement for sustainable products, says Lissete Montealegre, a Mexico City resident whose online zero-waste store sells ixtle items.

“The zero-waste movement has had a lot to do with rescuing natural materials and fibers, but I feel it is an issue with two sides,” Montealegre says. “On the one hand, we are supporting their recovery, but on the other, their exploitation.”

Montealegre says she always considers artisans first, before her customers. When filling orders, she checks with artisans to make sure a customer’s request is feasible, and she works to educate customers and set realistic expectations about how quickly products can be manufactured and delivered. Large orders with quick turnaround times generally don’t fit into this sustainable framework, Montealegre says. Being part of the zero-waste movement means prioritizing the environment over convenience.

Transmitting sustainable knowledge

In order to preserve their traditions in a sustainable way, the Wäda group and other independent artisans work with Hidalgo’s Ministry of Culture, which has provided economic support to the artisans and helped promote their work. In 2018, with advice and support from a number of foundations, the Wäda group opened a workshop and exhibition space in Cardonal, where they hold classes and events to promote their knowledge and customs. Prior to the pandemic, the region’s artisans also collaborated with the Ministry of Culture to organize public events and exhibitions in Hidalgo and other parts of the country, showcasing their traditions and products.

That kind of resourcefulness holds lessons for the broader community.

“The Otomí people of Hidalgo in the Mezquital Valley live in a semiarid zone. They serve as examples of great adaptability,” says Raúl Guerrero, coordinator of the UNESCO heritage program at Hidalgo’s Ministry of Culture. “And one of the greatest elements with which they have survived is the maguey, which is a plant that is sacred to them.”

That kind of resourcefulness holds lessons for the broader community, Paloma says, even if ixtle can’t be manufactured on an industrial scale. “It is necessary to transmit our knowledge about the maguey and the handicrafts.”
Aline Suárez del Real is a Global Press Journal reporter based in Tecámac, in the state of Mexico. She studied at Technological University of Mexico.

You've reached your limit of free articles.

To read the full story, start your free trial today.

Get unlimited access. Cancel anytime.

Exclusive coverage from the world's top sources, in English for the first time.

Insights from the widest range of perspectives, languages and countries.


Life On "Mars": With The Teams Simulating Space Missions Under A Dome

A niche research community plays out what existence might be like on, or en route to, another planet.

Photo of a person in a space suit walking toward the ​Mars Desert Research Station near Hanksville, Utah

At the Mars Desert Research Station near Hanksville, Utah

Sarah Scoles

In November 2022, Tara Sweeney’s plane landed on Thwaites Glacier, a 74,000-square-mile mass of frozen water in West Antarctica. She arrived with an international research team to study the glacier’s geology and ice fabric, and how its ice melt might contribute to sea level rise. But while near Earth’s southernmost point, Sweeney kept thinking about the moon.

“It felt every bit of what I think it will feel like being a space explorer,” said Sweeney, a former Air Force officer who’s now working on a doctorate in lunar geology at the University of Texas at El Paso. “You have all of these resources, and you get to be the one to go out and do the exploring and do the science. And that was really spectacular.”

That similarity is why space scientists study the physiology and psychology of people living in Antarctic and other remote outposts: For around 25 years, people have played out what existence might be like on, or en route to, another world. Polar explorers are, in a way, analogous to astronauts who land on alien planets. And while Sweeney wasn’t technically on an “analog astronaut” mission — her primary objective being the geological exploration of Earth — her days played out much the same as a space explorer’s might.

Keep reading...Show less

The latest