In August 2025, the National Institute of Statistics and Geography (INEGI) updated the income poverty lines. In urban areas, the threshold to cover the food basket was set at $2,452.05 per person per month, while the total poverty line—which includes non-food goods and services—reached $4,722.01. In rural areas, the amounts were $1,850.73 and $3,394.06, respectively. These figures are not just technical indicators: they reflect what millions of families can—or cannot—put on the table.
In Oaxaca, where 60% of the population lives in poverty according to previous estimates, food becomes an act of resistance. It’s not just about feeding oneself, but about doing so with dignity, flavor, and memory.
Don Aurelio is the head of a household in the Volcanes neighborhood. He earns $6,500 a month as a bricklayer’s assistant. He spends 45% of his income on food, equivalent to about $2,925. With that, he buys the essentials: tortillas, beans, rice, eggs, tomatoes, onions, chicken, and, when he has enough, a little ground beef. Steak, which has increased its price by 18.2% annually, is a luxury that only appears on his table once a month.
On Thursdays, his wife goes to the Abasto market. She takes advantage of volume discounts and looks for seasonal produce: squash, papaya, and chile criollo. At the markets in the Reforma neighborhood, near the Iglesia de los Pobres, she finds fresher and sometimes cheaper fruit. In Cinco Señores, the weekend market offers homemade bread, fresh cheese, and free-range chicken. Everything adds up. Everything counts.
Mariana lives in the San Martín Mexicapan agency. She has three children and works selling gelatin on the streets of the capital. Her monthly income is around $4,000. She doesn’t reach the urban poverty line. She knows this, even if she doesn’t say so. She shops at the Abasto market, where prices are lower. She brings plantains, beans, rice, pasta, and when there’s a supply, pasteurized milk, which has risen 8.6% in the last year.
She prefers to cook at home. She avoids processed foods. She stuffs chayotes with rice and cheese, makes broth with chicken bones, and makes tortillas with dough she gets from the tortilla shop. Her children eat what’s available. And what’s available is always shared.
Luis lives alone in a rented room in the Reforma neighborhood. He works as a delivery driver and earns $7,200 a month. He spends less on food, but more on eating out. According to INEGI (National Institute of Statistics and Geography), this item had a 54.7% impact on the increase in the urban food basket. Luis confirms this: he eats tacos, tlayudas, and garnachas. He doesn’t cook. He doesn’t have time. But he knows it costs him more.
On weekends, she buys fruit at Cinco Señores. Bananas, oranges, apples. Sometimes cheese or sweet bread. She doesn’t keep a list. She buys what she sees. What she craves. What she can afford.
In Oaxaca, the market isn’t just a place to shop. It’s a space for negotiation, culture, and resistance. Families adjust their habits according to the price of tomatoes, which are around $27.14 per kilo, or beans, which exceed $37.17. A whole chicken costs more than $83 per kilo, and eggs, more than $59. Decisions are made in the aisle, in front of the stand, with an eye on their wallets.
Seasonal produce is a ally: serrano peppers, squash, mangoes, hawthorn. Everything that’s abundant, goes down in price. And everything that goes down, is bought. Housewives know that the economy isn’t about salaries, but about bargaining.
Annual general inflation was 3.6% in August 2025. In urban areas, the food basket rose 4.1%. In rural areas, it rose 2.8%. Steak, milk, and food consumed outside the home were the main culprits. But behind the percentages, there are stories. There are decisions. There are compromises.
Eating in Oaxaca is a political act. It’s choosing between what you want and what you can afford. It’s walking between stalls, comparing prices, asking without buying. It’s knowing that money isn’t enough, but ingenuity is.
Poverty lines aren’t just numbers. They’re thresholds that define what’s possible. And in Oaxaca, what’s possible is cooked with firewood, sold at street markets, and shared in pots.
Source: agenciaoaxacamx
