A scarlet wool waistcoat and cochineal dye

Bright red is surely one of the most iconic colors of 18th-century fashion. From girls in their cardinal cloaks to British soldiers in their red coats, it is hard to imagine any scene in the American colonies devoid of some touch of this color. The natural world offers several sources of red dye, but cochineal may well have had the most profound effect. The Nahuatl name for cochineal is nocheztli, from nochtli (nopal cactus) and eztli (blood) (Wallert 60). The highest-quality dye came from the domesticated grana fina insect, a cousin of the wild grana silvestre (Marichal 259). By the time of the Spanish conquest, Indigenous peoples in Mexico had spent centuries perfecting the raising and preparation of cochineal insects. Cochineal reached Spain by 1523 and was quickly recognized as a valuable dyestuff for the European market, where quality red was always in high demand (Marichal 256).

The cultivation of cochineal was a way for the Indigenous people of Oaxaca and Mixteca to preserve their own communities and cultures. The tending of the nopal cacti and the cochineal beetles was labor-intensive, best-suited for communal or backyard plots tended by family members (Baskes 192-193). This production did not lend itself to economies of scale—only in the 18th century did large haciendas emerge producing cochineal, and even then this was a miniscule proportion of the total supply compared to the cochineal produced by small-scale Indigenous growers (Donkin 28). This enabled much of the land in Oaxaca to remain in native hands, and Oaxacans defended these land rights greatly. One suit, brought by Indigenous cofraidas against the Dominicans of San Hipolito Martir over ownership of two sitios, lasted almost the entire 18th century (Hamnett 55). Indigenous cochineal growers could safeguard their own customs and ways of life to an extent because cochineal production could not be easily appropriated by colonizers.

Cochineal was produced within the repartimiento system, in which growers would be offered credit Current scholarship indicates that the colonial Spanish repartimiento de bienes (not to be confused with the practice of drafting Indigenous labor for colonial projects called the repartimiento de indios) was not the exploitative system that earlier scholars assumed, but made credit available to a population who otherwise would not be able to access it.The average loan was 9 pesos in exchange for 6 future pounds of cochineal insects, a rate of 1.5 pesos per pound regardless of the market price (Baskes 204-205). The loan contained no additional interest beyond the advance price, which was below market rate (Baskes 197). If the price of cochineal was particularly high one harvest, however, some growers might sell the entirety at market at a higher price and claim that all the insects had been “lost” in inclement weather and could not be used to repay the loan (Baskes 201). Collecting the owed cochineal could be difficult for Spanish officials—Indigenous growers just had to outlast the alcalde’s usual 5-year term and the debt obligation would likely be forgotten (Baskes 195). 

Production of cochineal for the European market enabled Indigenous producers to preserve their communities and culture, but this also came at the expense of greater ties between different communities. Because of the labor demands caused by increased cochineal cultivation under Spanish rule, people tended to stay close to their own households, strengthening the bonds within individual villages at the expense of intercommunal ties with other areas (de Ávila B 95).

Any monoculture will have its pitfalls, and one of the drawbacks of cochineal production during the colonial era was the decline of food production. Before the Spanish conquest, inhabitants of the Mixteca Alta used terracing to grow food along the hill- and mountain-sides (Rodriguez 345). Afterwards, a combination of depopulation and altered land use caused many of these formerly fruitful terraces to fall into disrepair. Farmers focused on cochineal production and grazing livestock, the latter of which contributed to erosion of these terraces (Rodriguez 345-346). The cultivation of cochineal at the expense of food production was noted as early as 1579 (Donkin 29). Cochineal production represented the preservation of some forms of local knowledge, but the marginalization of others like how to coax food out of the hilly terrain.

Europeans were very reluctant to recognize the centuries of expertise that Indigenous Mexicans had developed to perfect their cultivation of cochineal. One Spanish writer in about 1600 even claimed that the Indigenous Oaxacans had to be taught how to produce cochineal by Dominican missionaries (Donkin 23)—nevermind that those missionaries had initially tried to encourage Oaxacans to cultivate silkworms instead of their traditional cochineal (Greenfield 92). Europeans also regarded the domesticated grana fina insects as a sort of divine providence, a gift from nature enabling them specifically to make more vibrant reds than they had ever known in the Old World (Greenfield 85). The reality that native inhabitants of Mexico had spent centuries improving cochineal insects to produce better dye than their wild counterparts went unacknowledged. 

There was also debate for over a century about what exactly cochineal was. Consultation of such sources as the Bible and microscopes were largely inconclusive. The Spanish had finally determined that cochineal was an insect by the end of the 16th century, but the rest of Europe remained skeptical (Greenfield 132). Ultimately in the early 18th century, Europeans were finally able to conclude that cochineal was in fact an insect after a group of gentlemen collected the testimony of local Oaxacan growers (Greenfield 161). Apparently, the knowledge of Indigenous cultivators could finally be recognized once all other options were exhausted.

Europeans enthusiastically used cochineal dye to enhance their own fashions, but restricted the ability of Indigenous peoples, as well as other non-white inhabitants of New Spain, to profit from cochineal outside of the repartimiento credit system. Regulations in New Spain issued in the 1560s and 70s restricted the dying of cochineal to high-quality cloth, done only by Spanish artisans (Donkin 28). In 1580, the viceroy banned Black and mixed-Black vendors from trading cochineal, and allowed Indigenous Mexicans to sell cochineal only if they were the servants of a Spaniard (Greenfield 103). Cochineal was valuable as a European luxury item, and as such non-white people could be allowed to be visible only as representations of subservience.

The production of cochineal into the 19th century, particularly in Oaxaca, was inextricable from Indigenous ownership and land use. This persistence and protection of traditions in the face of colonial exploitation can still be seen in the woven and embroidered textiles produced by Indigenous Mexican artisan. Today, Indigenous crafters from Oaxaca and elsewhere in Mexico have to fight for their artistry to be recognized as their own, unique expressions of culture and heritage. The designs of Mixe, Chinanteco, and Zapotec weavers and embroiderers have been plagiarized by major fashion labels like Zara and Carolina Herrera (Fuentez López). This constant appropriation by clothing brands represents a continuation of a centuries-long practice of Western fashion being dependent upon the creativity, innovation, and expertise of Indigenous producers while barring them from greater recognition. Similar to how Indigenous Mexicans were restricted from involvement in the fashionable cochineal industry beyond cultivating the insects, the value of Indigenous production is seen primarily as its ability to be reused or resold for fast fashion.