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Chávez's Impact Still Being Felt, (posted 3/23/99) Saturday, Mar 20,1999 Even today, you can glimpse the bumper stickers on aging Volkswagens or Fiats: "BOYCOTT GRAPES" or "UNITED FARMWORKERS OF AMERICA," boldly stated in red and black. Six years after his death, three decades after reaching the zenith of his power, César Chávez remains a figure who stirs the passions of Americans. Strong feelings have bubbled to the surface in San Antonio over the proposal to rename the San Antonio International Airport for the labor leader who championed the rights of migrant farmworkers. A majority of City Council members have directed the city staff to study the proposal. The mayor is opposed to the notion, saying it is "polarizing" residents. Public debate was hot and heavy last week on talk radio, Internet forums and in phone calls to City Hall - with most of the participants opposing the idea. The San Antonio debate is just the latest chapter in a running controversy concerning Chávez. Streets and public buildings have been named after him across the country in recent years, as part of a campaign to recognize a Hispanic champion. In some venues, public opposition has reversed decisions to name buildings or streets for Chávez, who died in 1993. "Chávez is the Martin Luther King Jr. for his people in this country, especially for those in the Southwest," said Father David Garcia, rector of San Fernando Cathedral. State Sen. Carlos Truan of Corpus Christi is one of the dozens of Hispanics who learned political activism in the "row crop" boycotts that began in the agricultural towns of the Rio Grande Valley in the mid-1960s. Up to that point, Hispanics had lagged behind blacks in organizing and protest. In Texas, Hispanics had organized primarily around post-World War II veterans groups such as the American GI Forum and LULAC, the League of United Latin American Citizens. Chávez, who had successfully brought the plight of migrant farmworkers to public awareness in California, and then to the national media in the early 1960s, came to the Rio Grande Valley to try to organize the row workers. "He aroused the conscience of an awful lot of people like myself who had never been involved with the farmworkers, or aware of their situation," said Truan, who now is the dean of the Texas Senate. "It was terrible," Truan recalled. "The farmers didn't care about spraying pesticides while the workers were in the fields." Workers often earned only a dollar and change for a day's labor. But while Chávez's name is associated with the Valley protests, his presence in Texas actually was minimal. "He pretty much abandoned Texas entirely" after the 1960s, said George Korbel, who also participated in the Valley protests and who has been a longtime advocate and attorney for minority rights as a counsel with the Texas Rural Legal Aid organization. Litigation launched by TRLA over the years has resulted in numerous voting rights challenges that provided more political clout to minorities. The Rio Grande Valley protests and marches along Texas highways attracted activists from across Texas and the United States. They led to numerous confrontations between demonstrators and the Texas Rangers. Some of the conflicts turned ugly, with Rangers pummeling demonstrators. The most famous confrontation occurred outside New Braunfels along Interstate 35, when Gov. John Connally - flanked by the Rangers -blocked the highway as the demonstrators marched to the Capitol in Austin. San Antonio attorney Frank Herrera accompanied his mother, Elvira, on parts of that march, which finally reached Austin. Elvira Herrera had been a farmworker when she was a young woman. "Having gone through that as a young person, she was still aware of the hardships she encountered," Herrera said. "She constantly reminded us not to forget those roots, those people for whom very few people worked." But by that time, Chávez was leaving Texas behind. "That was the last big thing Chávez was involved with (the Valley protests)," Korbel said. "Chávez realized Texas was a much harder nut to crack than California. He figured he would come back to Texas when he was finished with California, but he never did." In the gap, a splinter group formed its own farmworkers union in Texas in the early 1970s. "It was good for Texas, because what happened then with new leadership is they did a better job of organizing," said Jim Harrington, an attorney who represented the Texas farmworkers throughout the 1970s and 1980s, and who now is the director of the Texas Civil Rights Project, headquartered in Austin. "There was potent, political grass-roots organizing throughout the colonias." Latino Count Shows Growth in Bristol, (posted 3/23/99) by Myung Oak Kim She saw Philadelphia. She saw Brooklyn. Neither impressed the 29-year-old mother from Puerto Rico. Too much congestion and crime, she complained. But when Frances Rios visited Bristol, an aging industrial town along the Delaware River in Lower Bucks County, she immediately decided to move there. Bristol's tranquility reminded Rios of her hometown near San Juan. But Bristol was much safer, and offered better services for her 7-year-old son, who has attention-deficit disorder. With hopes of giving her son a better future, Rios moved into a one-bedroom apartment in Bristol nine months ago, and recently started working in a uniform factory in town. "I like everything," Rios said through an interpreter. "They give a better education to my son. It's quiet. There's good jobs here - better opportunities." Rios is one of 46,768 people who moved to Bucks County between 1990 and 1998. During that period, no other county in the state gained that many people, a recent Census Bureau report said. While the county's population growth is mainly among middle and upper-middle income transplants from Philadelphia and New York, Rios' story shows the other part of the picture. In the last decade, the demographics of Bucks County have been changing slowly, but steadily. Between 1990 and 1997, the county's percentage of white residents dropped slightly, while its African-American, Asian, and Hispanic populations grew significantly, 21 percent, 49 percent and 41 percent respectively, the Census Bureau reports. While a third of the state's 302,317 Hispanics live in Philadelphia, Bucks County, just north of the city, has more Hispanics than any other suburban county, according to the bureau. "For years there's been a lot of denial about the existence of the Latino community and other minority groups in Bucks County," said Gladys Mendieta, executive director of the Latino Leadership Alliance of Bucks County. "Now [county leaders] are starting to take this seriously." Last Friday, the agency opened a family center in Warminster's Centennial Village apartment complex, bringing its range of social services closer to the people who need them. Many Hispanics first move to Warminster or Bristol because of the affordable housing. Many end up staying because the quiet towns with small houses and lawns remind them of their home lands, said Margarita Marengo, a bilingual community worker for the Centennial School District and board member of the Alliance. "It's some place that looks familiar to you." When she first moved to Bristol, "I didn't know where anything was," Rios said. A relative told Rios about the Alliance. One of the case managers accompanied Rios to the County Assistance Office to apply for benefits. The agency helped her learn English. But it's biggest impact has been with Rios' son, Elvin. A first-grader at Snyder-Girotti Elementary School, Elvin is one of four Hispanic children among 19 students in his class. He knows very little English, and the school has no English as a Second Language program. Almost everyday after school, Elvin goes to the Alliance's after-school program, where bilingual staffers help him with his homework, often explaining the material in Spanish. Most of the program's 32 children are from Snyder-Girotti. The program has helped Elvin tremendously, Rios said. It is a major reason Elvin is bringing home A's and B's on his report card, she said. Rios has no plans to leave the area. "I want to work very hard and buy a house," she said. Gore - Spanish, (posted 3/29/99) WASHINGTON-Until recently, many of Al Gore's longtime aides did not even know he can speak Spanish. True, after acquiring the language as a teenager one summer in Mexico, Gore lost most of what he learned. But it is coming back quickly, the vice president said. And just in time too. With the approach of a presidential campaign in which Latino voters will be more influential than ever, Gore rarely passes up the opportunity to show off his proficiency in Spanish-whether in East Los Angeles or, as he did here recently, at a black-tie gala celebrating the 70th anniversary of the League of United Latin American Citizens. "Felicidades, LULAC, por setenta anos de servicio. Que dios les de setenta mas!" he told 400 delighted activists ("Congratulations, LULAC, for 70 years of service. May God grant 70 more!"). Gore's undisguised pitch for Latino support foreshadows a vigorous battle for the hearts and minds of America's more than 7 million Latino voters in next year's presidential election. Although such voters have shown a strong Democratic preference in recent years, the presence of Sen. John McCain of Arizona and Texas Gov. George W. Bush as potential Republican presidential nominees provides a timely reminder to Democrats that they cannot take Latinos for granted. "Anyone who ignores us does so at his own peril. There's no lock on the Latino vote," said Rep. Xavier Becerra (D-Los Angeles), past chairman of the Congressional Hispanic Caucus. "Latino voters are extremely independent," added Lydia Camarillo, executive director of the Southwest Voter Registration Education Project in San Antonio. "They are not going to vote for a Democrat just because he or she is a Democrat. They will vote for candidates because of the positions they stand for." To be sure, the Clinton-Gore ticket in 1996 won 71% of Latino votes, a 16-point increase over 1992. Even in Florida, with a huge, conservative Cuban American population that traditionally has been pro-Republican, exit polls in 1996 showed Latinos almost equally divided between President Clinton and Bob Dole, the GOP candidate. And Gray Davis last year won more than 70% of Latino votes when he was elected governor of California. But political analysts said such strong Democratic showings among Latino voters may be less an embrace of the Clinton-Gore administration and the Democratic Party than a rejection of a GOP agenda that many Latinos find anti-immigrant. Still, Republican strategists acknowledge that their party has a tougher courtship ahead. "Republicans have got to position themselves as a party that's tolerant. That's Step 1--before you get into specific Latino strategies and tactics," said Scott Reed, who managed Dole's campaign. "And we've got to address that now. This takes time." The 1998 reelection campaigns of Bush and McCain illuminated the possibilities for GOP candidates. By emphasizing an inclusive agenda that celebrated diversity, both men won large percentages of Latino votes en route to resounding victories. After four years of practicing, as well as preaching, multiculturalism and tolerance, Bush in November won 49% of the Latino vote. He also routinely converses in fluent Spanish during interviews with Spanish-language media. McCain has captured a majority of the Latino vote in two consecutive Senate elections, winning the backing of 55% of Latinos in November-an impressive showing in a state that Clinton carried in 1996. "But I'm not satisfied with that number," he said. "I want all their votes. Their support is my honor." McCain does not pretend to be facile with Spanish. So he is content to let his record speak for itself. And he repeatedly has parted company with GOP orthodoxy over issues of concern to immigrants and minorities. McCain, who also was honored at the LULAC event, made his own pitch that night for Latino votes, following Gore to the podium and pronouncing himself the only statewide GOP candidate in Arizona ever to win a majority of the Latino vote. He denounced "English-only" laws and various anti-immigration initiatives favored by many Republicans. McCain's remarks were all but indistinguishable from those of the vice president. "We don't need more division in our own country," Gore said. "We don't need more attempts to roll back affirmative action. We don't need to exploit bilingual education for political gain or propose phony ballot initiatives." The swelling rolls of Latino voters come at a time when overall voter participation continues to drop, further increasing Latinos' clout. In the last four years, the number of Latinos registered to vote has grown by 25%, now exceeding 7.1 million people. In the face of such demographics, it is little wonder that a campaigning Gore last fall vividly displayed his newfound ability to connect with Latinos during a visit to East Los Angeles. At a pep rally at the Boyle Heights Senior Citizens Center, he waded into a small but enthusiastic group of Latino union workers about to launch a voter registration drive. Without hesitation, the shirt-sleeved Gore joined them in a clapping, rhythmic chant-in Spanish. "His Spanish has really improved in the six years that I've been listening to him closely. And what an opportune time to have it come back," said an approving Becerra, who also attended that late-October afternoon rally. In a later interview, the vice president reminisced about the summer he spent in Mexico with family friends as a 16-year-old immersed in a foreign culture and language. "I lived with them for a summer-had to learn Spanish," Gore recalled. "They all spoke to me in Spanish the entire time. I started dreaming in Spanish." A week after the LULAC bash, McCain displayed anew his ability to attract Latino recognition when another high-powered activist group, the National Council of La Raza, cited him as "a longtime friend" and "a strong voice for compassion, fairness and inclusion in his party." Copyright 1999 Los Angeles Times. All Rights Reserved Celebrating 20 Years of Life, (posted 3/19/99) FROM UNIVERSAL PRESS SYNDICATE FOR RELEASE: WEEK OF MARCH 19, 1999 COLUMN OF THE AMERICAS by Roberto Rodriguez CELEBRATING 20 YEARS OF LIFE Twenty years ago this week, I lay bleeding profusely with a cracked skull, facedown and handcuffed on a cold street in East L.A. I was prepared to face my maker. I had been brutally attacked on Whittier Boulevard-not by street hoodlums, but by four Los Angeles County Sheriff's deputies wielding riot sticks. Amid death threats while riding in the back seat of a squad car heading toward a secluded street, I said my last prayers. Needless to say, I was not executed. But I was hospitalized, jailed and then charged with attempting to kill the same deputies who nearly took my life-all this for photographing an incident of police brutality. I recovered and eventually beat the criminal charges-but not before being illegally detained approximately 60 additional times. The blood I spilt on that boulevard keeps me connected there the way an embryo is connected to the womb. Part of me died that night, but I was spiritually reborn. Today, I'm blessed by life itself, this despite years of living in fear and with unadulterated hate. My struggle for justice seemed like an eternity, yet the struggle to rehumanize myself has taken even longer. Because of what I lived, I have dedicated my life to eliminating not only the scourge of law enforcement abuse, but also to creating a world where all people are valued as full human beings. Living with trauma hasn't been easy. Thankfully, I'm motivated in my work-partially because several people risked their lives for me by stepping forward, including witnesses and civil rights giant Antonio Rodriguez, the attorney who defended me against the criminal charges. Seven years after my assault, he also successfully represented me in my lawsuit. In our writings, my wife (Patrisia Gonzales) and I relentlessly pursue the root of the "truth" and defend the rights of all people, particularly those whose rights have been trampled upon. For that, we are called racists and are continually told by some of our readers to go back to where we came from. Through our work, we have proven that we come from-and belong-here. Despite being dragged through our judicial system, I never lost hope in it. Yet in all these years, I've seen the system not work for many people who also dared to step forward. To this day I live with post-traumatic stress disorder. At Chicago's Center for the Survivors of Torture and Political Violence, I learned that people like me are survivors of extrajudicial violence, not victims. Going there changed my worldview and was also instrumental in my own rehumanization process. Prior to this, as a result of documenting hundreds of other cases of border patrol and police brutality, I thought that the solution to this cancer was simply to create effective civilian police review boards. Yet I've come to see this as insufficient because it's obvious that the vast majority of the thousands brutalized annually are people of color. As such, I came to view such actions as hate crimes and as violations of international law. Groups such as Amnesty International now also recognize police brutality as a human rights violation. Racial hatred doesn't adequately explain why this extreme degradation occurs. Dehumanization-the belief that some people are less than human-is a better explanation. The epidemic will end only when the culture of impunity is terminated. Civil rights organizations have recently called for a national summit regarding this crisis. It's long overdue. My belief, however, is that absent an urgent executive action, these violations will not end voluntarily and will have to be addressed in international courts. If we are serious about healing from this epidemic, we will also have to provide (medical) reparations for the tens of thousands of scarred survivors. Unable to attain justice or express their rage, many often turn to street and domestic violence-witness Rodney King's life after his beating. More important, it will have to involve a rehumanization process, involving both the brutalized and the brutalizers. It will help little if only the brutalized heal. What will I do to celebrate my 20 years of survival? I'll thank the Creator, and I will write about someone else's struggle for human dignity. I will smile, laugh, paint, dance. And I will also sing the songs of composer Agustin Lara for friends and elders. After all these years, I have finally begun to live once again as a full human being. Inin mi-tlah cuiloa ich nochi no yolo Esto está escrito con todo mi corazon COPYRIGHT 1999 UNIVERSAL PRESS SYNDICATE It's impossible to thank all the people/friends who stepped forward throughout all these years... either in court or in the healing process... but just wanted to say that all the support and prayers have been instrumental in me moving forward as opposed to freezing 20 years ago. My 7 1/2 year battle with the L.A. Sheriff's Department is documented in "Justice: A Question of Race." My idea in writing it was so that what happened to me will never happen to another human being again. Of course, the dehumanization has not stopped and that's why I (we) continue to write. Tlazocamati Roberto Rodriguez & Patrisia Gonzales are authors of Gonzales/Rodriguez: Uncut & Uncensored (ISBN 0-918520-22-3 UC Berkeley, Ethnic Studies Library, Publications Unit. Rodriguez is the author of Justice: A Question of Race (Cloth ISBN 0-927534-69-X paper ISBN 0-927534-68-1 Bilingual Review Press) and the antibook, The X in La Raza II and Codex Tamuanchan: On Becoming Human. They can be reached at PO BOX 7905, Albq NM 87194-7904, 505-242-7282 or XColumn@aol.com Gonzales's direct line is 505-248-0092 or PatiGonzaJ@aol.com JSRI Home | Community Connections | Latino News Archives
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