This summer my partner and I were fortunate to travel to Oaxaca for our vacation. He and I had gone through a hard summer last year and we were both gravitating towards visiting Oaxaca after such a grueling handful of months in Los Angeles. Upon arriving, we immediately drove into the city and noticed many people gathering at different buildings and sites along el centro. We were told that the public education teachers had suffered “un golpe de estado,” a coup by the Oaxacan governor who had stripped union power from the teachers hence eliminating the little power they had as a voting unit for any kind of educational reforms. There was also economic news, as the Mexican peso that week had devalued to over 16 pesos for every U.S. Dollar, probably further exacerbating the recent imposed changes. Oaxaca has historically suffered from state violence, the last major occurrence had happened during the 2006 protests where lives of leaders, teachers and activists were lost. We not only saw protesters, but a strong police presence, as five-to-six helicopters would fly overhead multiple times a day and in the barrio where we were staying at, federales were guarding one of the Oaxacan radio stations along with their riot gear. When I first visited the state in 2007, the remnants from that protest were seen on the walls outside government buildings and banks, the encampment at the Zócalo, and the many makeshift banners with slogans like “¡No a la Guelaguetza capitalista!” or “El APPO (the Popular Assembly of the Peoples of Oaxaca) es Nuestro”.  Witnessing how after almost ten years, somethings had remained nearly the same, hit a nerve, especially witnessing a vocal manifestation taking place throughout the city’s streets, as others prepared for the annual Guelaguetza at the multi-million dollar stadium overlooking the Oaxacan Valley. As an educator, I kept asking myself how this resistance would look like in the United States, a powerful nation who’s own public educational system is riddled with complex issues. Would I, like others here, also sit in protest for days, possibly weeks on out, demanding justice and risking possible violent retaliation? One only has to turn an eye to Ferguson, MI to see that the U.S. also practices a form of police-statehood. After seeing Oaxacan teachers, administrators, children, and allies guide their walking protest towards the Zócalo, I came across this tagged slogan on the side of one of the colonial buildings. At first I smiled, thinking “Sí, Zapata sí vive“, but then I took a closer look and found a second set of script, “lejos” right below the original tag. This realization instantly changed my smile into an ironic laugh. There it is, ese estilo mexicano, the use of dark humor to remind us all that with hope and resistance we will also find a biting and undeniable social realism. Maybe Zapata crossed the border, who knows, but in the Mexican imaginary (for now) he continues to exist.