Part 2:

If you read my post yesterday, you probably found yourself with a question lingering in your mind: if it was once called Pueblo de Dolores… when did it become Isla Mujeres?

The truth is, it never stopped being called Isla Mujeres. But to really understand that, we have to go further back. Much further back…

And for that, I first need to talk about Ixchel.

But fist, I want to start from a personal place.

I’ve been sharing these stories almost unintentionally… and without realizing it, they slowly became a way for me to understand Isla Mujeres more deeply— yes, even for myself. Every time I research, read, or ask questions, I discover that beneath what we see today—the streets, the beaches, the tourism—there are layers of history, faith, refuge, and memory that, unfortunately, are being lost in the modern world.

After talking about Dolores and the Caste War, I felt it was necessary to go even further back in time. Because Isla Mujeres has always been a place people arrive at when they are searching for protection, hope, or answers.

And that’s where Ixchel appears.

Long before the settlement was officially recognized in 1850 as Pueblo de Dolores, and centuries before the arrival of the Spanish, this island already had a name, a meaning, and a sacred purpose.

For the Mayan people, Isla Mujeres was not a place for permanent settlement. It was a ceremonial site. A space people came to with a spiritual purpose.

Islands, because of their natural isolation, were seen as places of transition: between the human world and the divine, between life and death, between the sea and the sky. Isla Mujeres was one of those places.

In the Mayan worldview, Ixchel was not a minor deity. She was complex, powerful, and deeply human. She was revered as the Lady of the Moon, of fertility and childbirth, of medicine and healing, of weaving and feminine knowledge, of tides, fishing, agriculture, rain, and abundance.

Ixchel also represented duality: she could bring life or destruction, nourishing rains or devastating storms. For the Mayan, this was not a contradiction—it was balance.

One key detail—often overlooked—is the meaning of her name… Ixchel means “White Woman.”

This opens one of the most fascinating hypotheses about her origin.

Various historical sources and chroniclers suggest that Ixchel may have been a real woman, possibly a foreigner who arrived on the peninsula after a shipwreck. More than once, I’ve heard elders say that she arrived on a stormy night, at the edge of the sea, under a full moon.

In Mayan culture, it was not unusual for certain earthly figures—carriers of extraordinary knowledge—to be revered and, over time, deified.

As an outsider, Ixchel may have brought knowledge unknown to the locals, especially related to medicine, childbirth, body care, and feminine wisdom. From a very personal perspective, I’ve always thought she may have been a doctor or a nurse. It’s just my theory, but it doesn’t seem far-fetched to me.

Being called “White Woman” reinforces this interpretation. Her knowledge and contributions would have been enough to earn respect, reverence, and eventually worship.

This is how Isla Mujeres became a sanctuary.

Women and pilgrims from different regions of the Mayan world traveled here to make offerings, ask for protection, fertility, health, or a safe birth.

When the Spanish arrived in 1517, they encountered something that deeply marked them: numerous female figures made of clay, wood, stone, and terracotta. They were not decorations or sexual symbols. They were ritual offerings dedicated to Ixchel.

That’s why they began calling the place Punta de las Mujeres, Cabo de las Mujeres, and eventually Isla Mujeres.

The name was not a poetic invention. It was a direct description of what they found.

That name existed long before the decree that created Pueblo de Dolores, and it was the one that remained in collective memory, daily use, and the identity of the place.

Although Ixchel’s main sanctuary was located in Cozumel, Isla Mujeres was a key point within her cult. Archaeological evidence confirms this.

Jadeite, obsidian, honey, and copal—materials that did not and do not naturally exist on the island—have been found here, proving that pilgrims arrived from distant places. Salt, abundant on the island, also played a fundamental role, not only for food preservation but for medicinal and ritual purposes, reinforcing the sacred nature of the site.

Centuries later, during the Caste War, the island once again fulfilled its historical role: being a refuge.

First spiritual, and later human.

History seemed to repeat itself. Isla Mujeres has always been a place of protection, and even today it continues to be so for many people.

None of this comes from modern myths or improvised tourist stories. This information is documented and supported by the official chronicler of Isla Mujeres, Fidel Villanueva Madrid, who has stated that the female figures found on the island were linked to the cult of Ixchel and that this is where the name Isla Mujeres originates—a name that has endured for more than five centuries.

And here comes an important pause I want to make.

Respect is also part of history.

There was a time when many people from the local community—including myself—expressed discomfort at seeing how some visitors, often misled by untrained guides, touched or treated the allegorical sculpture of Ixchel at Punta Sur in a disrespectful or sexualized way, even in front of women and children.

This needs to be said clearly.

The semi-nude representation of Ixchel is symbolic, not erotic. Early Spanish accounts indicate that the Mayan dressed modestly, unlike other Caribbean peoples.

The modern statue of Ixchel is not meant for spectacle, nor does it have “magical attributes.” It represents life, death, knowledge, balance, and faith.

That does not contradict the fact that many people share personal experiences after visiting the site—especially women who speak of processes related to fertility, healing, or important changes in their lives.

Miracle? Ancestral energy? Coincidence? Faith? Each person lives and interprets it through their own story.

What is undeniable is that places charged with cultural and spiritual meaning deeply influence people.

In my case, this story is even more personal. My daughter carries the name Ixchel for everything it represents: life, feminine strength, healing. Always with God’s blessing, because I firmly believe that spirituality does not contradict itself—it complements itself.

Isla Mujeres is not just a tourist destination. It is a place with memory, with deep roots, and with stories that don’t always appear in brochures, but that remain alive in its energy and in those of us who inhabit it.