How Gentrification Continues to Change Mexico City—and What Comes Next

Condé Nast Traveler

4 days ago

Mexico City has always been a complex destination.
As the son of Mexican immigrants from Veracruz, I don't remember my first trip to the Mexican capital—a place where some of my closest friends and family members have been born, raised, and in some cases, buried. But as a child, I remember it being a non-destination with a gritty exterior; a smoggy behemoth of urban sprawl that other Mexicans would joke about never wanting to visit. Still, the oldest and largest metropolis in North America—and a primary gateway into Latin America for travelers worldwide—has always emitted a type of magic, with live folk bands roaming Plaza Garibaldi; the world largest collection of Mesoamerican relics in the heart of Parque Chapultepec; and lard-rubbed Gaonera tacos slung from crammed streetside stalls. There's an unvarnished vibrancy of Mexican life, beside a swirling mix of global influences and ideas that have historically been embraced. Everything from the food to art of this metropolis has the fingerprint of immigrant communities who have arrived from overseas and within the country. But in recent years, the influx of Americans and Europeans specifically has reached a crescendo.
Now, it seems the city has become too beloved for its own good.
In early July, hundreds of Mexican nationals took to Mexico City's streets to protest the current realities of a city that now seems to embrace foreigners at the cost of locals' needs. The protests were concentrated in the upscale neighborhoods of Roma and Condesa, where the biggest cluster of international visitors and residents have flocked in record numbers since the pandemic, drawn by internationally acclaimed restaurants and bars, designer boutiques, and Instagram-friendly façades—and where the cost of living has risen exorbitantly in response. A number of interconnected factors can be blamed (Airbnb, digital nomads themselves, government policy), but demonstrators are clear that their way of living has been altered by this massive influx of people, and something has got to give.
In the past five years alone, the average rent costs around Cuauhtémoc, a desirable municipality that encompasses the trendiest zip codes, have swelled by 30%. During that same window, the amount of US citizens who initiated or renewed their residency visas in Mexico City increased by nearly 70%. Yet, as rent and property values have skyrocketed, wages have remained relatively stagnant and in some cases decreased for the Mexican workforce. Some estimates on the average American salary place it at between double and triple the average Mexico City salary. In neighborhoods like Condesa, rents in many apartment buildings are now reflective of what foreigners with higher salaries can afford, rather than what locals are able to pay in pesos. The effects on everyday Chilangos are devastating as the market adjusts to US dollars and euros, and businesses overly cater to the tourists who earn in those currencies.
Many blame the government primarily for overreaching in its attempt to transform the city into a global hub. In 2016, El Distrito Federal de México (DF), as it was formerly known, was legislatively renamed as Ciudad de México (CDMX) to more closely resemble its English-sounding name, Mexico City. It signaled the early stages of a judicial overhaul to clean up the city's image. The corporate-coded rebranding came packaged with a glossy paint job, in which the city's taxis and public letterings were cast in bright pink as an effort to soften the city's appearance for incoming visitors. (The color was selected based on study groups and the perception of safety).
The Condesa neighborhood in Mexico City has been one of those most impacted by gentrification in recent years, with the cost of living surpassing what some longtime residents can pay.
erlucho/Getty
As locals are pushed from central neighborhoods to the outskirts of the city, "the social fabric of the place starts to deteriorate over time' says resident Paul Lara.
Linka A Odom/Getty
In a capital known for its gastronomic wonders, restaurants have been a focal point. The city's hardest-to-get tables are often dominated by foreigners, some of whom make restaurant reservations at destination-worthy spots before even booking their flights there. It raises an even bigger question: Who are these restaurants for? At times, the city's beloved restaurants have served as harbingers of oncoming gentrification. In others, they've remained as symbols of an enduring past.