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The deep, dark eyes tell stories filled with music and children, hardship and triumph. They see and share and call forth strength. These eyes belong to Dolores Huerta. At 74, the United Farm Workers (UFW) union cofounder still dances, boycotts, and raises her voice not just in song, but in defense of the oppressed, shouting Sase puede!
Beginning in the 1950s, she and late UFW cofounder Casar Chivez fought for pensions for older Hispanics, livable wages, and safe conditions for farm workers and other laborers. They also fought against the bracero guest worker program and the use of dangerous pesticides. The list of battles and victoriesis a long one.
During an exclusive interview, Huerta spoke of motherhood and activism, jazz and justice. Her lucha continues.
Q: What sparked your activism?
A: My dad was a volunteer union organizer. He was very well respected and a member of the [New Mexico] state legislature. But he was expelled from the legislature because he got into a fight with Jos Montoya, who later became a congressman. My dad didn't tell me the story, Jos Montoya did. I was lobbying Jos Montoya in Congress and I told him that my father had been a state legislator. He asked, "What's your dad's name?"and I said "Juan Fernandez." He said, "Oh, I remember him!" The Montoyas were big growers in New Mexico and had a lot of obreros, and he and my dad got into an argument.
My mother was a very wonderful woman. When she and my dad divorced, she moved to California and worked two jobs in the cannery at night and as a waitress during the day. But she saved enough money to establish a restaurant. When World War II broke out, because they were going to be doing food rationing, she gave up the restaurant and took over the hotel of one of the Japanese who had been relocated. That was good for her because we were able to live in the hotel. All the family lived there. It was a 70-room hotel, a real big one. We kids had to do all the work. We were janitors; we had to do the laundry and iron the towels, iron the sheets, and take care of business, and so she was able to provide for us.
I think my mother was a feminist for her time. She was what I call an "equal-opportunity" mother because even before she had the restaurant, we all three had to do the housework. My older brother and my younger brother and I split up the chores evenly. We had to do dishes. And there was a chart, and after you did your chores you got to put an X on there. We had to sweep and mop the floors, make the beds, and do the dishes and do the laundry. All of us equally. So my brothers learned that growing up. My mother never made me do anything for my brothers, like serve them. I think that's an important lesson, especially for the Latino culture, because the women are expected to be the ones that serve and cook and whatever. Not in our family. Everybody was equal. She didn't have my personality. She was one of these very quiet people who just did a lot. And she was a leader in the community. She was one of the founders of the first Latino chambers of commerce. She was just a doer. Because of the old way of thinking, when we were very small my mother would always say to us, When you see that somebody needs something, don't wait to be asked. If you see somebody who needs something, you do it. Second thing: You don't talk about what you did. Once you talk about what you did you take the grace of God away from that act. And you never take any money for anything. When you do something for somebody don't ever accept any money, because, again, that takes away the grace of God." And that's wonderful because I think that really insulates you against corruption.
Q: Who knows you best, besides yourself?
A: Probably my kids. Because they've been with me and I think I communicate a lot. We don't have the traditional Latino relationship, you know, where you have to be super respectful. We get into it, we argue, we discuss. They'll argue with me: "You're too busy doing that." And I'll get into it with them, about what their lives are about.
Q: You have 11 children. You've said you were not meant to be a housewife; you were meant to be an activist. How has being a mother shaped your views?
A: And a grandmother and a great-grandmother. It's a dilemma in many ways because, although I love children, I did take the activist path and I was never able to spend as much time with my children as I would've liked. And my gifts are not in the homemaking area, unfortunately. It is a problem, but I think my kids turned out pretty well. What I'd like to share with people is that what we have to give to our children are values, not so much material, [but] a social conscience. You have to involve them at a very young age so they grow up knowing that this is something they can do that they have power to help people. And I think that's the biggest thing I gave my children. They had a lot of hardships we were very poor and never had any money. Working for the union, all we had were our subsistence rent and food. They never had good clothes or toys. I do regret not being able to provide them with music lessons. My son Ricky's very talented, but I was never able to give him any music lessons. I did have violin and dancing lessons growing up. I regret that, but at the same time it makes me feel very strongly that, as women, we need to fight for support systems. We need to be activists; women need to be in decision-making roles. To get there is a hard path, but our children shouldn't be neglected for us to get there. So we've got to push harder for day care "and when I say day care I don't mean just babysitting, but earlier childhood education for our young people, and support systems for women, so we can be out there doing the work we need to do. Our kids need to be not only safe, but also educated and safe.
Q: Your daughter, Juana, is bisexual. Was that a cause you always fought for?
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