I don't care to ascribe any kind of morality to crisis-sex. Let the Christian Coalitions of the world dwell on it –and there is one group in Mexico today, called Pro-Vida, that is well on its way to becoming a moral and political power broker of the most nefarious (read: American-kind).

What I do want to say is that ultimately, my experience of the senses, and of the senseless, in Mexico denied the body altogether. And I know that I was not alone in this, that crisis-sex is less a manifestation of sexual liberation than it is of desperation, although –and this is the ironic silver lining– the very fact that the sexual is so "out" throughout Mexican society today does appear to be furthering the cause of tolerance in a land famously intolerant of otherness, sexual and otherwise.

Inevitably,as the flesh is made public, questions arise. One did not discuss the patriarchal political economy of prostitution before la crisis, nor was misogyny and homophobia a part of the public discourse, nor did we talk of preventing STD's, or of bisexuality, or debate sex and love and whether the one can exist without the other.

A curious circle: we negate the body out of desperation, but it is resurrected instantly, precisely because it was our desperation that came out of the closet to be given form in the flesh, a private pain become, excruciatingly and terrifyingly, public. It's as if –and this is a quasi-Catholic notion– only by a journey into decadence could we realize that it was the spirit crying out all along.

There is another country being born here, a country that will always have its painful memory, but that perhaps can learn to live with its contradictions made public, its demons let loose, as it were, on the public plaza, where the Mexicans are fucking as never before.