U.S. entrepreneurs called it “sisal” (because it was shipped from the port of Sisal in the state of Yucatán). The Mayas referred to it as ki or jeniquén, and the Spaniards settled on henequén.
No matter its name, people in this part of the world were weaving the fibers of the Agave fourcroydes, native to the Yucatán Peninsula, into ropes, mats and textiles perhaps as far back as 4,600 years ago. By the 19th century, as global shipping expanded and agriculture demanded durable binder twine, henequen emerged as Mexico’s “green gold.”
On top of their other qualities, these fibers would last ten times longer than hemp in seawater. If you were a Malay pirate, you had to have rigging made of henequen!
Yucatán quickly became the world’s leading supplier, exporting millions of tons of fiber to the United States and Europe. At the beginning of the twentieth century, Mérida had the distinction of hosting more millionaires per capita than anyplace on the face of the earth.
Train ride to enslavement
Behind the prosperity, however, lay a darker story. Under the regime of Porfirio Díaz, thousands of Yaqui Indians from Sonora were forcibly deported to Yucatán. As journalist John Kenneth Turner revealed in his 1911 exposé “Barbarous Mexico,” many Yaquis—including pregnant mothers—were marched hundreds of kilometers from San Blas to San Marcos, Jalisco, before being shipped to the plantations. At the San Marcos train station, those who survived the trek were sold for as little as 25 centavos a head, then packed into train cars bound for Veracruz and onward to Mérida.
Once on the plantations, the Yaquis endured brutal conditions. Turner described how they were beaten at roll call, forced to cut and trim at least 2,000 leaves per day under the blazing sun, and locked up at night.
Women were separated from their families and coerced into “marriages” with Chinese laborers, and every child born on the plantation represented profit for the owner. Turner estimated that two-thirds of the Yaquis died within their first year of servitude. So it was that slavery persisted in Mexico decades after its official abolition.
The local Maya, meanwhile, formed the backbone of the henequén workforce. Dispossessed of their communal lands, they were bound to haciendas through debt peonage. Workers were forced to take on debts at marriage or upon joining a hacienda, with debts structured so they could never be repaid. Entire families became tied to the estate for generations, living in poverty and working under harsh quotas. Though technically “free,” their lives were controlled by hacendados who dictated marriages, debts and even religious practices.
Koreans and Chinese
The Yaquis and Mayas were not alone. On May 4, 1905, more than 1,000 Koreans disembarked at Salina Cruz, Oaxaca, after a grueling trans-Pacific voyage aboard the SS Ilford. They had left an impoverished Korea in search of opportunity, only to be sold as indentured laborers to Yucatán’s henequen plantations. Their descendants, now numbering in the tens of thousands, remain part of Mexico’s multicultural fabric. Chinese workers also labored under harsh conditions, creating a workforce that was diverse but deeply exploited.
For decades, henequen was indispensable to world trade. But by the 1940s, the invention of nylon and other synthetic fibers devastated demand. The once-prized crop became nearly worthless, and Yucatán’s economy — so dependent on henequen — plunged into crisis. Plantations closed, workers were abandoned, and the industry that had defined a region collapsed almost overnight.
Revival and collapse
In the years that followed, scientists and farmers sought ways to revive henequen. Research institutions in Mérida experimented with new uses, from biodegradable composites to textiles and even tequila production. One of the most ambitious efforts was the development and distribution, since 2017, of “henequen élite,” a genetically improved variety designed to grow faster and yield stronger fibers. These innovations offered hope that henequen might find a niche in modern markets, particularly as consumers began to value eco-friendly materials. Nevertheless, large-scale revival remained elusive, as synthetics continued to dominate.
Recent reports paint a grim picture. According to Yucatán news outlets, henequen production has collapsed almost entirely. Farmers complain of low prices, aging plantations, and a lack of government support. What was once the lifeblood of Yucatán is now a fading memory, with production dropping to historic lows. Today, henequen survives mainly in small-scale artisanal uses — woven hammocks, decorative crafts and heritage projects that keep the tradition alive but cannot sustain an industry.
Remembering the legacy
The story of henequen is not just about a plant. It is about global trade, human resilience and exploitation. From sailors’ ropes to Yaqui extermination, henequen embodies both Mexico’s ingenuity and its darkest chapters. Economically, it built fortunes and cities. Culturally, it left behind haciendas, mansions and a diaspora of workers. Morally, it exposed the brutality of Díaz’s regime, remembered through Turner’s “Barbarous Mexico“ and through testimonies of survivors.
Today, as production collapses, perhaps the greatest challenge is not reviving the industry but remembering its lessons — that prosperity built on injustice cannot endure. The eucalyptus trees growing around San Marcos station, nourished by the bodies of Yaqui victims, may be the truest memorial to Yucatán’s “green gold.”
John Pint has lived near Guadalajara, Jalisco, for more than 30 years and is the author of “A Guide to West Mexico’s Guachimontones and Surrounding Area” and co-author of “Outdoors in Western Mexico.” More of his writing can be found on his website.
