The “new” Zona Rosa

On a warm Thursday evening in the Zona Rosa, a gay neighborhood on the edge of Mexico City’s financial district, day-time businesses like clothing stores, beauty spas and little restaurants frequented by office employees are closing for the night, giving way to the younger population that walks up and down the streets of the Zona Rosa after the sun goes down.

This neighbourhood has changed significantly since the seventies, when it was the up-and-coming colonia in which to be seen. It was then that Mexican painter José Luis Cuevas named the Zona Rosa after the pale pink pave stones that cover its streets—without knowing that three decades later, a queer teenage population would become the lead players of this stylish scene.

Now the Zona Rosa looks as though it is on the brink of another transformation, after the operativos or raids that began targeting bars and other businesses in the area last summer have threatened to change the something something.

These operativos are the continuation of a wider plan that started ten years ago, which includes the revitalization of the financial district and the City of Santa Fe—a fancy neighbourhood built on a landfill, where “smart” buildings dominate the landscape, contrasting with shanty houses.

The first step was taken in the 90’s when the city government set out to make the Centro Histórico or Historical Downtown a more attractive place to live. The project targeted a young, artsy population who were offered old and beautiful apartments in newly restored buildings, which could connect them to their city’s past and, at the same time, give their lives a touch of good taste and urban ambience.

The main requirement was to make this area as safe as possible, so Mexican hipsters could walk back home at night in the empty and newly lit streets named after Latin American heroes or icons such as Bolivar, Isabel La Católica and the República del Salvador.

The most notable changes in the Centro Histórico were initiated during López Obrador’s term as mayor from 2000 to 2005, with total—but not unconditional—help from the second richest man in the world: the Mexican entrepreneur Carlos Slim.

During this period of time, residents of Mexico City said goodbye to the old cobblestones that used to cover the streets of the former colonial city; they witnessed the cleaning of historical façades that used to be abandoned, and enjoyed, at times with surprise, the installation of street lights.

But some sacrifices were to be made in order to guarantee investment in the area: poor children, homeless people and prostitutes that used to find refuge in the dark old buildings were swept away. Decaying structures, abandoned after the earthquake in 1985 and eventually inhabited by squatting families, were remodelled, their tenants obliged to vanish. In their place, a Sheraton hotel was built and a bunch of Seven Eleven branches spread throughout the area.

Nowadays, with the closing of many gay venues, the Zona Rosa is going through the same changes, except that this time, a different population is being affected. The young gays and lesbians who come to the Zona Rosa are part of a tradition in which leaving your home to study or live on your own is still very rare. Many of these young people work full-time due to the nonexistence of well-paid part-time jobs throughout the country, where minimum wage is 5 dollars a day.

That said, this population still looks for some fun at night, especially on the weekends. This demand has been satisfied since 1998 by Tito Vasconcelos, a former actor turned entrepreneur, who opened a chain of venues in the Zona Rosa called Cabaretito known for charging little or no cover.

Vasconcelos faces many complaints and grievances, most of them dealing with the fact that alcohol and drugs found their best clients in his businesses. Stimulants aside, Vasconcelos has been accused of allowing minors in his clubs by offering inexpensive beer and opening at six o’clock—a time in which young people can move around the city without having to pay a taxi-cab or risk missing the last subway at midnight.

In spite of that, the success of Vasconcelos’ clubs helped the Zona Rosa to develop as a neighbourhood with a group of cafes, restaurants and stores in which gay people could gather. Gay activists from the seventies would have been surprised that a whole area of the city was actually conquered by queers. Even more surprising was that outsiders—specifically the police—seemed to be letting this neighborhood thrive without too much disruption. Soon, the Zona Rosa, because of its proximity to touristy areas, attracted a diverse group of visitors that included many foreigners.

Thursday was ladies’ night at Cabaretito VIP. Gay women, mostly between the ages of 15 and 25, came to this weekly party, one of the few spaces for lesbians in the city to dance, drink, and maybe meet a girl. Still, Thursday’s nights soon became famous for occasional fights between its clients. Martha Cuevas, the organizer of these parties, attempted to guarantee the security of her regular female-clients by offering anti-violence workshops.

But the gay world and its inner problems was not the only subculture that was protected by the boundaries of the Zona Rosa. Some people have referred to this area as the Zona Roja (Red Light District) based on the overwhelming number of heterosexual strip clubs, bars, and sex-shops. Even the Zona Rosa branch of the expensive chain restaurant, Angus Butcher House, famous for hiring extremely slim and beautiful waitresses, was rumored to house a “secret” prostitution ring. This urban legend fit an area where sassy Russians and Cubans in high heels stroll on the streets in their way to work. Among them, but not in competition, were male prostitutes standing up outside deli stores, ignored by their Korean owners.

Additionally many of the cyber cafes in the Zona Rosa served as a basic tool for tourists, and others searching for a potential lover. Conservatives were content to ignore this element of profitable gay tourism, since it was kept inside the boundaries of the “Ghetto Rosa”.

Since December, the balance was altered by mayor Marcelo Ebrard’s new policy: in order to clean and improve the city conditions, the local government was going to attack prostitution rings, strip clubs, drugs, and minors in dancing places. Vendors on the streets were removed and a whole new remodelling plan was started: on Paseo de la Reforma—one of the most beautiful avenues bordering the Zona Rosa—a new luxurious mall was opened and brand new lofts began selling for upwards of a hundred thousand dollars.

After Ebrard announced this new campaign, police units were posted outside bars and clubs in the Zona Rosa to prevent minors from entering, and to discourage the use of drugs and abuse of alcohol. A series of raids took place inside strip clubs and suspected centers of prostitution. These busts were used to justify increased police presence on the streets of the Zona Rosa.

However, press reports never mentioned how intimidating the heavy police presence was for the gay community—always vulnerable to these kinds of operations—to walk into a bar after saying “excuse me” to a policeman holding a semi-automatic weapon in his hands, ready to take action whenever it was considered necessary. As part of the campaign, 30 bars and discotheques have been closed. Ten of them were frequented by gay population.

It has been less than three months and there are already visible changes: streets have been cleaned and repaved, streets lights now illuminate small, discrete corners and vendors have vanished, giving the area a more touristy atmosphere. But a closer look reveals other changes: the Cabaretito chain no longer exists in the Zona Rosa. Only few gay clubs remain on Amberes street—those that are famous for hosting “beautiful people” as their clients, who can afford the 10 dollar cover plus drinks.

The changes have not come to an end yet. Café tables from “Freedom”, the American restaurant, have disappeared from the street. Asked if the local government has prohibited café seating on the sidewalks outside of restaurants, the doorman says that those affected by the raids were only gay owners and illegal bars. “Estamos esperando a que pongan una fuente y más iluminación, después vamos a sacar las mesas.” “We are just waiting to take tables out: there will be a fountain and more lights here.”

The area is still under police surveillance, especially at night. There is no doubt that times have changed and that the Zona Rosa is opening to a new wave of investments, on behalf of those who can afford a stylish way of living—without the vendors, young people, and queers that have shaped this neighborhood for over a decade.