When we moved into our first house in León 10 months ago, I thought we had found “the one.” It was in a great location – close to la Plaza Mayor, near all the boutiques and restaurants, in what locals call “the bougie part of León.” We were paying 20,000 pesos a month, which was above market value, but we rationalized it. The location was central. It was furnished. We weren’t sure if we were staying long-term anyway.
By month two, I knew something was wrong. But it took us 10 months to actually do something about it.
The Reality of Our First House
When we moved in, the house was supposed to be ready. It wasn’t. There was no running water. No gas. During rainy season, the roof leaked. We sent the landlord a list of issues, a complete list, and she fixed maybe two things. The rest? Silence.
I come from Chicago, where tenants have actual rights. Where landlords are held accountable. Where if something breaks, you have legal recourse. Here, I quickly learned that Mexico operates very differently.
The landlord wasn’t responsive. She wasn’t invested in the property. And honestly, looking back, it was clear from day one that she had treated this place as an Airbnb – doing the bare minimum to make it look good on the surface while ignoring what was actually broken underneath.
For 10 months, we let it slide. We told ourselves it wasn’t our house anyway. Why invest money in repairs if we didn’t own it? But underneath that rationalization, we were just… unhappy. And we were paying premium prices for a deteriorating property.
Here’s what bothered me most: We were paying 20,000 pesos a month for a house that, in reality, was worth maybe 15,000 pesos. And this wasn’t just unfair to us – it was unfair to Mexican families making pesos who couldn’t afford to overpay for substandard housing the way we could.
The Moment Everything Shifted
At some point between month two and month ten, I had an epiphany. We started exploring other options. My friend and I would visit different residencias (gated communities) throughout León. We’d tour homes, look at neighborhoods, imagine different possibilities.
And that’s when it hit me: I had NO IDEA how many housing options existed in Mexico.
Growing up, my entire image of Mexico was shaped by one thing: my family’s small rancho. A rural area so small it didn’t even have a papelería. Walls with broken glass cemented on top so people wouldn’t climb in. Metal bars on windows. Gated everything not for aesthetics, but for security and necessity.
That was Mexico to me. That was the only version I knew.
When we first arrived in León and started looking at houses, I defaulted to that image. The first house we chose? It reminded me of my grandmother’s place. It was old, about 40 years old. It looked “traditional.” It felt familiar.
But as I started exploring León more seriously, I discovered something that completely blew my mind: there are modern gated communities with sleek, boxy architecture. Homes with floor-to-ceiling sliding glass doors that flood the space with natural light. Residencias with cookie-cutter designs that are brand new and move-in ready. Neighborhoods I didn’t know existed.
I had been picturing Mexico as a monolithic country – one aesthetic, one type of home, one level of development. I didn’t realize Mexico, like the United States, has rural areas AND urban areas, suburban neighborhoods AND bustling cities, working-class sections AND upper-middle-class developments.
My limited perspective had literally limited my choices.
The Guilt That Came With Discovery
Once I started seeing all these options, I felt guilty. Genuinely guilty.
Here I was, exposed to all these different housing possibilities, all these gated communities and modern homes, while my family back in the rancho was working with what they inherited – land passed down through the ejido system (a communal land grant dating back to the 1900s-1950s). My parents are currently building a home there, but they’re limited by the property they inherited. It’s the only option they have because building a new house in León is prohibitively expensive.
And then there’s me, in León, able to choose between multiple neighborhoods, multiple styles, multiple price points. I could walk away from a lease and find something better. They can’t.
That’s when the real conversation started in my head: What does it mean that I have all these choices? Where did this privilege come from?
The answer was simple: my parents.
Understanding Privilege Without the Guilt
My parents didn’t have choices. They were forced to leave Mexico. Survival. That’s what drove them north. They worked in the United States, hard, sacrificing, building a life in a country that wasn’t theirs, so that I could have opportunities they never had.
Part of their dream for me was exactly this: to have choices. To not be limited by circumstance. To be able to look at housing options and think about what actually works for my family, not just what’s available.
So when I finally decided to break the lease and find a better home, I had to reframe how I thought about it. This wasn’t being ungrateful. This wasn’t being a snob about the first house. This was me actually honoring what my parents worked for.
I could feel guilty about having privilege, or I could be grateful for it and use it responsibly. I chose gratitude.
Our New Home and What It Represents
We found a new place, a furnished three-bedroom, two-and-a-half-bath home in a different part of León. We’re paying 25,000 pesos a month, which is more than the first house, but what we get is completely different.
The home is newer. It has modern architecture – boxy, minimalist, full of natural light. Solar panels for hot water (so we’re not spending a fortune on gas). Huge rooms. A massive backyard. And most importantly: a landlord who actually responds.
When we had an issue with the air conditioner, the landlord fixed it immediately. He didn’t charge us. He understands what it means to immigrate to a new country (his family did the reverse, they moved from Mexico to the US for job opportunities). He gets it.
The difference is night and day. And it’s not just about the physical space – it’s about having a landlord who respects the tenant-landlord relationship as a two-way street.
Our kids love the new house. Alex has his own desk and office space. We have storage. We have room to breathe. And we can afford it. So yes, we’re paying more, but we’re getting what we pay for.
Four Lessons That Changed Everything
Lesson 1: Perspective Shapes Everything
My limited image of Mexico kept me from seeing options that were always there. I didn’t know what I didn’t know. Once I expanded my perspective, everything changed. This applies to every area of life, not just housing. What else am I not seeing because of the lens I’m looking through?
Lesson 2: Privilege and Gratitude Can Coexist
I spent a lot of time feeling guilty about having choices. But guilt isn’t gratitude. I realized I could honor my parents’ sacrifice by actually using the choices they fought for. I could be appreciative of their work while also being unapologetic about wanting a better home. These aren’t contradictory, they’re connected.
Lesson 3: Generational Progress Is Real
My parents had zero choices. I have multiple choices. My kids will inherit even more. That’s generational progress, and it’s real and measurable. My kids will grow up knowing they can live in Mexico or the US, that they might own property in both countries, that they can choose their own path. That’s not arrogance, that’s the fruit of my parents’ labor.
Lesson 4: It’s Okay to Want Better
We broke the lease early because we wanted better. That’s not shameful. That’s not ungrateful. That’s me honoring the privilege I have and using it to create a better life for my family. I’m not ashamed of it, and neither should anyone else be.
What This Means for You
If you’re a child of immigrants reading this, you probably know this feeling. That weird mix of gratitude and responsibility. That knowledge that you have opportunities your parents didn’t. That slight guilt that comes with having choices.
I’m here to tell you: you can let go of the guilt.
Your parents worked so you would have choices. Use them. Be grateful, yes. Be aware of your privilege, absolutely. But be unapologetic about wanting better, doing better, and building a life that honors their sacrifice by actually living fully in the opportunities they created.
And if you’re thinking about moving to Mexico and you’re worried about housing options being limited? They’re not. Mexico is diverse. Rich in possibilities. Full of neighborhoods and styles you probably haven’t even imagined yet.
It took me 10 months in Mexico and breaking a lease to learn this. Maybe my story can save you some time.
Show Notes
After 10 months of living in our first house in Mexico, we made a decision that surprised us: we broke our lease early. But this episode isn’t just about the logistics of moving – it’s about the deeper realization that came with it.
I’m sitting down solo to share why we left, what we discovered about housing options in Mexico that I never knew existed, and the uncomfortable (but necessary) conversation about privilege, generational progress, and what it really means to have choices your parents didn’t.
If you’re a child of immigrants navigating the complexity of having more options than your parents did, this episode is for you. I’m breaking down the financial reality, the emotional journey, and the four major lessons I learned that completely shifted how I think about housing in Mexico, privilege, and what it means to want better.
What You’ll Hear:
- Why we broke our lease after 10 months and the moment we realized we didn’t have to settle
- The vast variety of housing options in Mexico that shocked me and completely challenged my limited image of what “Mexico” looks like
- The intersection of privilege and gratitude and how to be unapologetic about wanting better while honoring your parents’ sacrifice
- Four critical lessons about perspective, choices, and building the life you deserve without shame or guilt
Resources Mentioned:
- If you didn’t listen to the last episode, do so before this one!
- One-on-one moving to Mexico consultations
About Jessica Cuevas
Jessica is the founder and creator of Viva la Mami, LLC a community centered around Latina motherhood. Jessica created this platform after not finding empowering stories about experiences of Latina moms. She realized that there was a lack of representation in this space and felt there was a need for mamis to share their stories and to learn more about the nuances about motherhood through a cultural lens.
Viva la Mami’s mission is to empower the modern Latina mom to redefine the meaning of madrehood through education, story-telling, and cultural relevance all while bringing comunidad together.
