I May Not Be Your Type of Mexican!

September 25. 2019
Many of you know my
story, since my life has
been an open book.
I was brought up very
“Mexican,” or so I
thought. But, I was also
infused with a strong
dose of Americanism.
Mi Abuelita, Elena a short
strong woman wanted us
to never forget we were
Americans, but of
Mexican ancestry. Mi
Abuelita, Elena spoke
and read perfect English.
Although she was born
in Chihuahua, she moved
to Chicago at a very
young age.
She wanted us to know
our language, our culture
and to never forget
where we came from.
We spoke both English
and Spanish at home.
We listened to Mexican
and English tv and
music.
Baptized and raised  a
Catholic, we did not eat
meat on Friday. Attended
Catechism, I did my First
Communion and
Confirmation. And my
family worshipped La
Virgin de Guadalupe. We
ate Mexican food, but we
also ate spaghetti, fried
chicken, sandwiches,
chow mein, lamb, etc.
I grew up in a
predominantly small
Mexican community of
about 2,000 persons.
All were agricultural
workers, like my family.
When I was 12 years old I
and all the other Mexican
kids from Huron were
bussed about 20 miles
away to attend Jr. High
and High School in
Coalinga.
I felt comfortable in
Coalinga since Mi
Abuelitos had lived at
Polvadero Ranch half
way between Huron and
Coalinga. They
eventually ended up
moving to Coalinga. And,
we would frequent it
often to shop and visit
Mis Abuelitos.
I had spent my jr. and
senior year finding my
identity.
When I left home I was all
gun-ho for improving the
livelihood of myself and
all Mexicans. I also now
identified myself as a
Chicana.
I was the first in my
family to attend a four
year college
(Sacramento State
College was original
name and later became
Sacramento State
UniverIty. Which
turned out to six years
since I attended
graduate school,
after I graduated.
I lived every second of
the day for improving
people’s right not only
Chicanos, but I also
fought for the rights of
the handicapped at
Sacramento State
College. I hung out with
the “heavies” or the
“Chingones, “ the RCAF.
The Royal Chicano Art
Front. They were the
“Chicano Movimiento” at
Sacramento State
College.
They had been
instrumental in I
transferring from
Humboldt State College
to Sacramento State
College in 1971/72.
And, they had taken me
under there wings. They
assisted me in
everything. They
introduced me to other
Chicanas to guide me
along the way.
I viewed them as really
cool souls trying to help
me learn the ropes.
In retrospect I was a
“solidier” in training for
them.
Without re-living my
itinerary in college.
Which I couldn’t possibly
do due to my age. I
marched with Cesar
Chavez and Delores
Huerta for farmworker’s
rights, I spoke at the
Capital for educational
funding for Chicanos
while Ronald Reagan
was in office, I fought for
Chicana’s right, I
boycotted Coors beer
and grapes at Safeway
every Saturday, I was
heavily involved in
M.E.CH.A, we screen-
printed posters and t-
shirts for all our
functions,  recruited
potential Chicanos to
continue there education
at Sac State, there were
many needs and causes
we fought for and of
course we always
partied, we were young
college students.
All of this, while I still
maintained my grades.
In retrospect, I have very
fond memories of my
college years. I met some
wonderful people and
feel I accomplished
some good.
I do not believe in free
education or anything
else for that matter!
With the exception of
veterans, the
handicapped and the
elderly, being helped.
We owe it to them, not to
illegal immigrants!
Many will criticize me
and say you got yours,
now you don’t want
others to have a free
education. This is not
true; I had loans, grants
and a few small
scholarships, I always
worked part-time while  I
attended college.
And, in order to receive
my loans and grants I
had to maintain my
grades. I was not just
handed free money!
I think “giving” people
only enables and
teaches them to be lazy
and continue in the
mentality of learned
helplessness. People
should not depend on
the government!
I believe Individuals
should be admitted to
schools and jobs based
on their ability.
But, I now also see the
problems and faults
of what we called
the Chicano Movement.
I questioned why my
Chicano male professors
who lectured on racism,
oppression, and
victimization were
married to Anglo women
as they drove off campus
in their nice cars to their
upscale suburban homes
far away from the barrios
they claimed to
represent. I also
experienced having
several close classmates
who became pregnant
by these same
professors. This was
deeply disturbing to me
since most of these
young girls were from
small towns in the San
Joaquin Valley (like
myself) they were naive
to the ways of men and
homesick! These men
were older and I felt they
took advantage of
their vulnerability.
At, times, I too felt very
naive and vulnerable in
certain situations, but
Thank God for Mi Mama
being such a wise
woman. She had laid
a strong foundation and
always gave me good
advice and guided me. If
it had not  been for my
Lord’s protection I would
have not “made it!”
Yes, I marched, was
involved in walk-outs,
organized, held the
picket sign, chanted
Viva La Raza, and
Chicano Power!
I sang De Colores and
thought I was a
revolutionary. I had
friends who invited me to
go to Cuba with the
Venceremos Brigade,
while we wore Che
Guevara (a Marxist
revolutionary)t-shirts!
But, deep down I
felt that as a Chicana I
didn’t have an equal
voice to my brother’s,
all the while the women
did the majority of the
work.
Sound familiar?
The best line ever was
from my amiga, Yvonne
F. who said to me one
day, “Raquel, what
Chicano Movement? The
only movement I know
about is the bowel
movement I have every
morning!”
Ha! Crass as it sounds.
No truer words could
have been spoken!
She was absolutely
beautiful and intelligent.
She went on to law
school and became a
lawyer.
On the occasion, I
became disillusioned.
All I needed to do was
take a trip home and I
was quickly brought
back to reality of
what awaited me if I did
not succeed in college!
 I saw my life as a
fieldworker or as a
single mom sitting in the
bar with un chingo de
kids (a whole lotta kids)
crying into my beer
about the one who got
away or what could have
been!
I understand people
wanting a better
life. But, I do not believe
in just opening our
borders for security
reasons! You can’t just
waltz in here and do
as you please. I believe in
legal immigration!
Excerpt from the
magazine, Mexifornia,
By: Victor Davis Hanson
Spring 2002
city-journal.org
Mexico’s policy for a
half-century has been
the deliberate and illegal
export of millions of its
poorest citizens to the
United States, which is
expected to educate,
employ, and protect
them in ways not
possible at home. Only
that way has the
chronically corrupt
Mexican government
avoided a revolution, as
its exploited underclass
from Oaxaca or the small
hamlets of the Sierra
Madre Mountains
headed north, rather
than marching en masse
on Mexico City.
I have “lived” the
immigration experience
all of my life.
Mi Papá was an illegal
and Mi Mama fixed his
papers. My father’s
father was involved in
the Bracero Program.
So I am well aware of the
issues.
I saw this in my own
town of Huron. Where
the majority of
fieldworkers I met were
from Oaxaca.
I have seen where
immigrants not only
want, but demand  free
education, welfare,
drivers licenses, health
care and the list goes on
and on, and  I am
appalled!
I became a Christian and
I no longer wanted
anything to do with the
Virgin de Guadalupe
(since I would be
worshipping idols.
Somewhere along my life
I did not want to be a
hyphenated Mexican-
American and decided I
was an American first
and foremost. I may not
be your type of Mexican!
Truthfully, at this age in
my life I do not aim to
please anyone, but my
Lord, and my husband. I
do not have a need to fit
into a particular
category, like when I was
19 years old.
I grew up and matured
and my thinking has
changed from some of
my beliefs of the past.
I see people who have
not grown, adults who
think they are still
teenagers.  They are
locked into the past and
have not grown or
developed. I see the
quasi wanna be
Pachuco. Or in their
minds think they are still
low-riding the boulevard
con su mota, cerveza y
playing Sad Girl.
Thank God He has
opened my eyes and
offered me clarity to see
the hypocrisies.
We all change, well at
least I hope we do.
In college I thought
Planned Parenthood was
an okay agency. Once I
became a Christian I
abhor it! And consider
abortion murder.
And, finally you may say I
sold out. I did not, I am
very comfortable in my
own skin. I know who I
am, what I believe, and
where I stand. I am
honored and grateful to
have been born an
American and I feel I live
in the best country
possible.
All of my  diverse and
rich experiences have
made me the strong
woman I am today
and I just want to Thank
my Lord.
Abrazos y Besos
Thank You, Father

Published by

abrazosybesosblog

I am perpetually creative, and my eyes “feel” art everywhere. Who am I, I am an open book. I believe that sharing “from the heart” with one another is what connects us, heals us, and inspires us! My love for my Lord, family, friends, cooking, crafting, gardening/nature, vintage, sewing and different cultures; these passions and too many more to list, have moved my hand to paper, thus, Abrazos y Besos. In addition to a nudge by my baby sister, Dudies. My last name is Hug which means Abrazo in Spanish, hence the name of my blog: “Abrazos y Besos” translating to “Hugs & Kisses.” I will focus on our personal life journey with Mi Corazon (Augie Hug) sprinkled with love, spice and fun. Please tune in. Philippians 4:13 New King James Version (NKJV) 13 I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.