Hasta La Raíz, Día de Muertos, and Letting Go

I finally went to Mexico and employed the first three Moon & Milk artisans. Frankly, this “business” move was long overdue. So why did I take so long?

The last three Christmas seasons, I was completely burned out from the busy rush, yet I still didn’t want to outsource. I had many fears. I was afraid of losing control of the quality of my earrings. I was afraid of investing and being left with unsold stock. I was afraid of looking like another Mexican-American exploiting her own people.

Questions kept rising to the surface:

Am I honoring the work?
Am I going to be able to pay them fairly?
Am I repeating harmful systems, even unintentionally?

Outsourcing to Mexico also meant touching something extremely tender: my identity as a bicultural woman. My contradictory feelings of belonging and the complicated history between Mexico and the US. Especially now, with the hateful political climate against immigrants, particularly Mexicans. This decision felt heavier than ever. This was definitely a strategic business move, but it was mostly an emotional one. 

I named this collection Hasta La Raíz because I wanted to go back to my roots. I like to say that I was “Made in Mexico, Assembled in the US.” I felt a strong pull to go during Día de Muertos season, and only now do I understand why.

My goal was to find talented, skilled artisans to help with production, and I kid you not, everything unfolded effortlessly, with such cosmic flow that I still get goosebumps thinking about it. I was introduced to people who led me to other people at exactly the right time. It’s inexplicable how I felt being in Oaxaca, en la tierra de los artistas. Seeing the artistry and ingenuity of the people there made me feel completely at home, exactly where I belong. My father told me, “la tierra y tus raíces te llamaron,” The land and your roots called you.

On November 1st, Día de Muertos, I was in my hostel packing all my beads, all my tools, and taking photos of the inventory I was leaving behind for the artisans. I cried. In that moment, I understood the lesson clearly: it was time to let go.

Outsourcing meant admitting that my “solo, do it all” chapter had reached its limit. How many times have you told yourself:

If I don’t do it, it won’t be done right.
If I carry it alone, no one can disappoint me.
If I can survive this by myself, I don’t owe anyone anything.

This type of thinking confirms that we’re capable. Doing everything ourselves gives us control, safety, and authorship — things I didn’t grow up with. Yup, hyper-independence is my toxic trait, and letting that go can feel deeply frightening, especially for women, and especially for women of color. It feels vulnerable, in many ways, more than doing everything alone, because in our culture, our worth is proven by how much we can carry. 

And what's even more frightening is that my growth becomes visible and therefore, judgeable, possibly scrutinized. 

Fortunately, I can say that I didn’t fail the solo entrepreneurship phase. I had to dig deep, "Hasta La Raiz", down to the root, to realize I actually completed it. But now, Moon & Milk is asking something different of me. It’s asking me to trust and receive.

And that, for someone like me — or maybe someone like you — may be our bravest work yet.

Cheers to living a brave life,

Alejandra G.