CARVING SPACES FOR FEMINISM AND NATIONALISM: TEJANA ACTIVISM IN THE MATRIX OF SOCIAL UNREST, 1967-1978

______

A Dissertation

Presented to

The Faculty of the Department

of History

University of Houston

______

In Partial Fulfillment

Of the Requirements for the Degree of

Doctor of Philosophy

______

By

Samantha M. Rodriguez

December, 2018

CARVING SPACES FOR FEMINISM AND NATIONALISM: TEJANA ACTIVISM IN THE MATRIX OF SOCIAL UNREST, 1967-1978

______

An Abstract of a Dissertation

Presented to

The Faculty of the Department

of History

University of Houston

______

In Partial Fulfillment

Of the Requirements for the Degree of

Doctor of Philosophy

______

By

Samantha M. Rodriguez

December, 2018

ABSTRACT

This study investigates the ways Tejana feminists in Austin, Houston, and San Antonio,

Texas straddled a commitment to feminism and ethnic self-determination within the broader nexus of the Chicana/o Movement, the Black Power Movement, and the mainstream Anglo

Feminist Movement. I argue that Tejanas in the Mexican American Youth Organization and

La Raza Unida Party navigated hyper-masculinity, cultivated homegrown community feminisms, and forged gender and race identities in the segregated South in the 1960s and

1970s. All too often, the Chicana/o Movement is evaluated in isolation from other parts of late-twentieth century protest, ethnic nationalism, and women’s liberation. Employing a relational approach that sheds light on the ways groups relate to and define themselves to others, this dissertation underscores the ways the Black Power Movement’s quest for confrontational dignity informed Tejanos’ hypermasculine rhetoric and praxis, which in turn fueled Tejanas’ anti-sexism stance. Additionally, I contend that Tejana experiences with paternalism and racism in the mainstream Anglo Feminist Movement bolstered their dedication to anti-racism. As community feminists, Tejanas merged anti-sexism and anti- racism to resist institutional and social segregation. They sought to empower women of color, to cultivate Chicana and Chicano Studies as well as bilingual and bicultural education, to promote sexual freedom and reproductive justice, and to end state-sponsored violence.

This study contributes to the subfields of Chicana/o, Gender, and Relational Social

Movements in the United States by highlighting the linkages among social movements, and the intersection of gender and race in Tejanas’ fights for freedom in the Juan Crow South.

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION………………..…………………………………………………….….1 Historiography on Ethnic and Gender Liberation…………………………………8 Methodology….….….…………….…………………………………………...…15 Organization……………….……………………………………………………..18 A Note on Terminology………………………………………………………….20

CHAPTER 1: RELATIONAL BLACK AND BROWN POWER: MANHOOD, DIGNITY, AND TEJANA FEMINIST FORMATIONS………………………………………..…..22 Violence and Resistance in the Juan and Jim Crow South………………………27 Late-Twentieth Century Confrontational Dignity and Manhood in Power Movements……………………………………………………………………....37 Tejana Dignity Denied and Feminist Formations…..…………………………...55

CHAPTER 2: “LA NUEVA TEJANA”: FORGING HOMEGROWN COMMUNITY FEMINISMS THROUGH GRASSROOTS EDUCATIONAL ACTIVISM……………64 Education is Liberation: Ethnic Studies and the Transformation of Academia....68 Nueva Tejana Activism in Community-informed and Bi-cultural Public Education Spaces……………………………………………………………………………85

CHAPTER 3: YES, THE CHICANA WOMAN DOES WANT TO BE LIBERATED: COUNTERPUBLICS AND THE CORE TENETS OF TEJANA FEMINIST THOUGHT………………………………………………………………………………99 La Conferencia: Tejana Sexual Freedom and Reproductive Justice…………...103 La Conferencia and the Fight for Community-Controlled Institutions……...…117 Documenting La Chicana and Expanding Opportunities in Women’s Organizations…………………………………………………………………...124 Counterpublics, Images, and Intergenerational and Multidirectional Feminism.131

CHAPTER 4: WAITING FOR NO ONE: TEJANA INTERVENTIONS IN THIRD PARTY POLITICS IN THE 1970s……………………………………………………………....141 The Formation of a Chicana/o Third Party……………………………………..143 Early Tejana Interventions………………………………………………..…….154 Mujeres Por La Raza…………………..……………………………………….160 Recasting La Familia in the Electoral Sphere………………………………….165 Inter-ethnic Grassroots Campaigning…………………………………………..172

CHAPTER 5: ENCOUNTERS WITH THE MAINSTREAM ANGLO FEMINIST MOVEMENT: AFFIRMING COMMUNITY FEMINISMS AMID RACISM AND PATERNALISM………………….…………………………………………………….177 Tejanas and the National Women’s Political Caucus…………………………...181 Community Feminisms and The National Women’s Conference…….…..…….192

CONCLUSION…………………………………………………………………………..211

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BIBLIOGRAPHY……………………………………………………………………..…217

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Introduction

“There has always been feminism in our ranks and there will continue to be as long as Chicanas live and breathe in the movement, but we must see to it that we specify philosophical direction and that our feminist expression will be our own and coherent with our Raza’s goals in cultural areas which are ours.” Martha Cotera, “The Chicana Feminist”1

Evangelina “Vangie” Vigil Piñon was born in 1949, and raised in the Westside of San

Antonio. She left her hometown in 1968 to attend Prairie View A&M University (PVAMU), the historically Black university located 45 miles from downtown Houston, Texas. Being

“plucked out of a Mexican barrio in San Antonio and placed in a Black environment,” she became “aware of [her] culture and [her] social identity.”2 At PVAMU, amidst the protests that defined the late-twentieth century, Vigil Piñon was exposed to the Black Power

Movement message of “say it loud; I’m Black and I’m proud.”3 When she transferred to the

University of Houston (UH) in 1971, she became involved in the Mexican American Youth

Organization (MAYO) and La Raza Unida Party (LRUP), two organizations that had their origin in the same moment of social and political upheaval. As she became more politically engaged at UH, she connected her Chicana/o Movement activism with the readings in

African American literature she encountered in her time at UH. Aware of the history of brutal lynching of ethnic Mexicans in the Southwestern borderlands and the segregation of races in the South, Vigil Piñon was dedicated to racial justice and embraced the belief in ethnic self- determination—the right for an ethnic group to determine their own political, cultural, educational, social, and economic future—espoused by activists around her. For Vigil Piñon

1 Martha P. Cotera, The Chicana Feminist (Austin: Information Systems Development, 1977), 12.

2 Evangelina “Vangie” Vigil Piñon, interview by author, July 27, 2015, audio recording, Houston, TX.

3 Vigil Piñon, interview. 1

and other Tejanas/os, the African American struggle against racial discrimination and for self-determination mirrored their own.

During those college years, Vigil Piñon became invested not only in the ethnic dimensions of self-determination, but also advocated for gender liberation. As an artist and literature major, she wrote her own corridos, or ethnic Mexican ballads, about the “strength and power of Chicanas” and the “assertion of her rights.”4 For Vigil Piñon, the women’s movement she became more familiar with as a UH student was an important struggle, but it was not her introduction to feminism. She had long been influenced by strong Tejanas in her family who taught her to not accept injustices against women. In many respects, she already felt like a liberated woman before she was exposed to the women’s movement in college. Her sense of gender liberation was bolstered by witnessing women in MAYO vocalizing their perspectives and starting women’s organizations such as Mujeres Unidas, which focused on

Tejana issues. Tejanas in MAYO challenged hypermaculinity and the idea that only men could hold leadership roles. Vigil Piñon was also influenced by Chicana feminist literature that raised questions about how ethnic Mexican women fit in the women’s movement at large. She and others “felt the need to project the women’s movement from [their] own perspective,” and tap into the revolutionary thoughts and actions of ethnic Mexican female leaders and strategists.5 According to Vigil Piñon, Tejanas “had to fight on two fronts: within our own culture and then as minorities.”6 As noted by Tejana feminist activist Marta Cotera in 1977, Tejana feminist expressions were their own and aligned with community freedom.

4 Vigil Piñon, interview.

5 Ibid.

6 Ibid.

2

This sentiment resonated for women like Vigil Piñon and other Tejanas who saw their liberation rooted in their experiences as women of color and as members of a community pursuing ethnic self-determination.

This dissertation examines the ways Tejanas in Austin, Houston, and San Antonio,

Texas straddled a commitment to racial self-determination and gender liberation within the nexus of the Chicana/o Movement, the Black Power Movement, and the mainstream Anglo

Feminist Movement. I contend that within the context of late-twentieth century protest, ethnic nationalism, and women’s liberation, Tejanas in MAYO and LRUP found ways to navigate hypermasculinity, cultivate homegrown community feminisms, and forge gender and race identities in the segregated South. All too often, the Chicana/o Movement is evaluated in isolation from other parts of the Civil Rights Movement. Employing a relational approach, my work underscores the ways the Black Power Movement’s quest for confrontational dignity informed Tejanos’ hypermasculine rhetoric and praxis, which in turn fostered Tejanas’ anti-sexism stance. Additionally, I contend that Tejana experiences with paternalism and racism in the mainstream Anglo Feminist Movement solidified their commitment to anti-racism. Within this matrix, Tejanas resisted institutional and social segregation by advocating for women of color empowerment, Chicana and Chicano Studies, reproductive justice, occupational equity, and an end to state-sanctioned violence.

In the 1960s and 1970s, Tejanas protested against entrenched racial discrimination and, through their activism, became what historian Ula Taylor terms “community feminists.”

Taylor describes community feminism as a style of activism that seeks to empower both men and women while also addressing gender power relations and male oppression in race-based

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struggles.7 Exploring the relationship between feminism and Black nationalism and ethnic self-determination in the life of Amy Jacques Garvey—who expanded the global movement for Black liberation as a writer and organizer in the Universal Negro Improvement

Association in the 1920s—Taylor shows how Jacques Garvey engaged in community feminism by facilitating the Pan African vision of her husband, Marcus Mosiah Garvey, while also encouraging African American women to hold leadership positions. Building on

Taylor, I assert that Tejanas balanced a dual commitment to anti-racism and anti-sexism.

Tejanas in Austin, Houston, and San Antonio cultivated community feminisms that were responsive to the race and gender needs of Tejanas and Tejanos in the segregated South. Like

African American women engaged in the Pan African struggle, Tejanas remained committed to ethnic self-determination while holding Tejanos accountable for actions that stifled their women’s liberation. Tejanas challenged the notion that women could not hold leadership positions or expand freedom to include women’s issues.

Experiences with blatant racial discrimination defined the contours of Tejana community feminisms. By the 1960s, the Anglo power structure had systematically repressed ethnic Mexicans in Texas for nearly 100 years. In the years immediately following the end of the U.S.-Mexican War in 1848, ethnic Mexicans’ social, economic, and political power declined dramatically. Perceived as traitors in a territory increasingly occupied by Anglos,

Tejanas/os experienced land loss, social exclusion, political disenfranchisement, and state- sanctioned violence at the hands of the Texas Rangers.8 Well into the early twentieth century,

7 Ula Yvette Taylor, The Veiled Garvey: The Life and Times of Amy Jacques Garvey (Chapel Hill: The University of North Carolina Press, 2001) 2.

8 Rodolfo Acuna, Occupied America: A History of Chicanos (San Francisco: Canfield Press, 1972); Arnoldo De León, They Called Them Greasers: Anglo Attitudes toward Mexicans in Texas, 1821-1900 (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1983); William D. Carrington and Clive Webb, Forgotten Dead: Mob Violence 4

Tejanas/os endured anti-Mexican racism and terror. Tejana/o activists of the 1960s and 1970s came of age in a hostile environment where most families lived below the poverty line, speaking Spanish in schools was a punishable offense, their cultural history was denied, and racial segregation was rampant. 9 Tejanas/os forged gender and ethnic identities amid the long struggle to end anti-Mexican practices in the South, but their racial and gender stances were a part of a larger effort to end legally enforced segregation practices that affected

African Americans and the de facto segregation that created an oppressive society for ethnic

Mexicans as well. While African Americans experienced Jim Crow, ethnic Mexicans experienced their own Juan Crow. It is in this climate of racial stratification that Tejanas reaffirmed their commitment to ethnic self-determination while pursuing gender liberation.

Tejanas were on the frontlines of challenging racism through the Texas Chicana/o

Movement as members of the premier statewide organizations: MAYO and LRUP. During the late-twentieth century, MAYO and LRUP launched protest movements and engaged in electoral politics to achieve ethnic self-determination, educational reform, the end of state- sanctioned violence, and increased political representation. The hypermasculine protest ethos

against Mexicans in the United States, 1848-1928 (New York: Oxford University Press, 2013); Benjamin H. Johnson, Revolution in Texas: How a Forgotten Rebellion and Its Bloody Suppression Turned Mexicans into Americans (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2005); Miguel Antonio Levario, Militarizing the Border: When Mexicans Became the Enemy (College Station: Texas A&M Press, 2012); Monica Muñoz Martínez, “‘Inherited Loss’: Tejanas and Tejanos Contesting State Violence and Revising Public Memory, 1910-Present,” (PhD diss., Yale University, 2012); David Montejano, Anglos and Mexicans in the Making of Texas, 1836-1986 (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1987); Jennifer R. Nájera, The Borderlands of Race: Mexican Segregation in a South Texas Town (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2015); Cynthia Orozco, No Mexicans, Women, or Dogs Allowed: The Rise of the Mexican American Civil Rights Movement (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2009); and Raúl Ramos, Beyond the Alamo: Forging Mexican Ethnicity in San Antonio, 1821-1861 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2008).

9 Mario T. García, Desert Immigrants: The Mexicans of El Paso, 1880–1920 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1981); David Montejano, Anglos and Mexicans in the Making of Texas, 1836–1986 (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1987); Orozco, No Mexicans, Women, or Dogs Allowed; Ramos, Beyond the Alamo; Guadalupe San Miguel, Jr., "Let All of Them Take Heed": Mexican Americans and the Campaign for Educational Equality in Texas (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1987). 5

of the Black Power Movement informed MAYO’s platform and tactics. Modeled after

Student Non-Violent Coordinating Committee (SNCC) and the Black Panther Party (BPP),

MAYO’s confrontational approach often deployed defiant masculine rhetoric and militant stances, including denouncing white male supremacy as the gringo oppressor and marching in the streets. Although Tejanas were central thinkers and organizers in the movimiento, playing key roles in establishing community centers, transforming secondary and higher education, and combating injustices, Tejanas were initially relegated to supportive roles that precluded them from leadership positions.10 It was not uncommon for the male leadership to task Tejanas with secretarial duties as well as the cooking and cleaning. The cultural nationalist ethos of Chicanisma/o promoted the preservation of the “traditional” ethnic

Mexican family that was nuclear and heteropatriarchal.11 This limited view of the family translated into Tejanas being pressured to work on behalf of the liberation of the community without complaint and to keep cultural traditions intact. By 1969, Tejanas began crafting homegrown community feminisms in response to experiences with sexism and to expand the frames of racial liberation to include women’s rights.12 In spite of resistance from their male activist counterparts, Tejanas forged a feminist thought over the course of the 1970s.

Bridging anti-racism and anti-sexism was not an easy task. Tejanas struggled to balance a

10 Alma Garcia, “The Development of a Chicana Feminist Discourse,” Gender and Society 3.2 (1989): 217-238; Carlos Muñoz, Jr., Youth, Identity, Power: The Chicano Movement (New York: Verso, 1989) and Armando Navarro, Mexican American Youth Organization: Avant-Garde of the Chicano Movement in Texas (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1995).

11 Garcia, “The Development of a Chicana Feminist Discourse;” Richard T. Rodriguez, Next of Kin: The Family in Chicano/a Cultural Politics (Durham: Duke University Press, 2009).

12 Maylei Blackwell, ¡Chicana Power!: Contested Histories of Feminism in the Chicano Movement (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2011); Martha P. Cotera, Diosa y Hembra: the History and Heritage of Chicanas in the U. S. (Austin: Information Systems Development, 1976); and Vicki Ruiz, From Out of the Shadows: Mexican Women in Twentieth-Century America (New York: Oxford University Press, 1998).

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commitment to racial and gender equality within and beyond the Chicana/o Movement. By way of this contestation, Tejanas expressed multiple strands of feminism. Indeed, there was never one Chicana feminist voice.13

Tejana community feminisms also developed in relation to the broader liberation politics of the Anglo Feminist Movement. The paternalistic and racist attitudes that existed in the Anglo Feminist Movement—a struggle where Tejanas actively inserted their women of color perspectives—emboldened Tejanas to further weave race politics into their homegrown community feminisms. Tejana encountered resistance from a mainstream Anglo women’s movement that assumed women of color were more oppressed and prone to submissiveness because all Tejano men embodied heteropatriarchy and Tejanas rarely contested such authority. Contending with Anglo feminists’ propagation of the negative machismo stereotype and flagrant disregard of Tejana feminist voices, Tejanas carved their own spaces in the Anglo Feminist Movement as caucus members in regional and national feminist conferences and in their writings.

This dissertation traces the crystallization of Tejana feminist thought in the 1960s and

1970s to illuminate Tejanas’ commitment to both gender and race liberation in MAYO and

LRUP. To this end, this dissertation addresses the subthemes of intergenerational activism, inter-ethnic and intra-ethnic cooperation and conflict, and race and gender identity formation.

It extends the subfields of Chicana/o, Gender, and Relational Social Movements in United

States history by highlighting the linkages among social movements, and the intersection of race and gender in Tejana fights for freedom in the Juan Crow South.

13 Alma M. Garcia Chicana Feminist Thought: The Basic Historical Writings (New York: Routledge, 1997), 1-16; Gabriela F. Arredondo Chicana Feminisms: A Critical Reader (Durham: Duke University Press, 2003), 1-18.

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Historiography on Ethnic and Gender Liberation

While the Chicana/o Movement historiography has grown substantially over the last several decades to expand our knowledge of women’s diverse roles in the movement on a national scale, Tejanas (women from and living in Texas) still remain largely obscured. The

“classic” literature often employs a male-centered lens when documenting the main episodes of Tejana/o protest. Scholars such as Carlos Muñoz and Armando Navarro advance our understanding of youth militancy and the potency of Chicana/o ethnic nationalism, but provide only brief overviews of gender relations in the struggle and assert that Tejana activists willingly accepted menial, gender-specific tasks for the greater good of Tejana/o liberation.14 Muñoz and Navarro represent the prevailing historiographical trend that places

Tejana feminist activism outside of the Chicana/o Movement. In this way, Chicana/o scholars have propagated the loyalist-versus-feminist thesis—the belief that Chicanas either chose to be loyal to the struggle or pursue feminism as separatists. Scholars of the Women’s

Movement reinforce this loyalist-versus-feminist debate. While historian Ruth Rosen credits

Chicanas for developing feminisms through their own experiences, she asserts that pressures to be loyal to Chicanos contributed to a delayed “awakening consciousness” of Brown women.15 Accordingly, she describes ethnic Mexican women as newcomers to the women’s

14 Muñoz, Jr., Youth, Identity, Power; 1997); Navarro, Mexican American Youth Organization. For examples of non-Texas centered studies that similarly emphasize a loyalist-versus-feminist thesis, see Rodolfo Acuña, Occupied America: A History of Chicanos (San Francisco: Canfield Press, 1972); Ignacio Garcia, Chicanismo: The Forging of a Militant Ethos Among Mexican Americans (Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1997); and Ignacio Garcia, United We Win: The Rise and Fall of La Raza Unida Party (Tucson: University of Arizona, 1989).

15 Ruth Rosen, The World Split Open: How the Modern Women’s Movement Changed America (New York: Penguin, 2006) 275. Rosen is not alone in advancing the Chicana loyalist narrative. See Alice Echols, Daring to be Bad: Radical Feminism in America 1967-1975 (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1989); Sara Evans, Personal Politics: The Roots of Women’s Liberation in the Civil Rights Movement & the 8

movement of the 1970s. My work complicates the loyalist-versus-feminist thesis by tracing the ways Tejanas concurrently combated anti-racism and anti-sexism. Tejanas in MAYO and

LRUP remained involved in ethnic self-determination educational and political campaigns while also creating Chicana Studies and bringing women into the political sphere.

Even when Chicana scholars offer a more nuanced understanding of women’s activism, Tejanas still receive less attention. Maylei Blackwell’s Chicana Power! critically investigates the divergent Chicana feminist voices during the Chicana/o Movement— particularly, the sentiments of the trailblazing California organization Las Hijas de

Cuauhtemoc. While Blackwell adds an important new perspective as she attempts to write about contested national Chicana feminisms, her study primarily spotlights the California experience.16 Blackwell teases out the multiple interpretations and competing visions at the groundbreaking 1971 La Conferencia de Mujeres Por La Raza (Women for the Race

Conference) in Houston, but because of her California focus, her work does not thoroughly contend with the local and regional dynamics that contributed to the disruption of this event and fueled the ethnic self-determination nature of Chicana feminisms. My dissertation builds on Blackwell’s findings by examining how Tejanas crafted gender and ethnic identities while engaging in feminism as well as ethnic self-determination in a Southern context. In an

New Left (New York: Vintage Books, 1980); and Jo Freeman, “The Origins of the Women’s Liberation Movement,” American Journal of Sociology 78:4 (1973): 792-811.

16 Blackwell, ¡Chicana Power!: Contested Histories of Feminism in the Chicano Movement. Blackwell’s text draws upon the sexual and gender theories of Chicana feminist scholars: Gloria Anzaldúa, Borderlands/La Frontera: The New Mestiza (San Francisco: Aunt Lute Books, 1987); Arredondo, Chicana Feminisms; Martha Cotera, The Chicana Feminist (Austin: Information Systems Development, 1977); Garcia, “The Development of a Chicana Feminist Discourse;” and Emma Perez, The Decolonial Imaginary: Writing Chicanas into History (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1999).

9

environment of entrenched codified racial separation, Tejanas fought to liberate all members of their community and pushed back against state-sponsored anti-Mexican violence.

Writings by Chicana feminist scholars—particularly those produced contemporaneously with the movimiento—also provide an important foundation to this present study of Tejana community feminism and activism. Their works not only offer evidence of a burgeoning feminist identity that provide a rich archive of primary source material, but also shaped the field of Chicana/o Studies, documenting Chicanas’ economic, political, and social issues. In the formative years of the Chicana/o Movement, Chicana activists such as Anna Nieto Gomez and Elizabeth Martinez produced works addressing

Chicana oppression within and beyond the movimiento. Tejana feminist Martha Cotera’s writings were essential to this early Chicana discourse. By 1984, Chicana scholars presented papers and conducted panels on the Chicana experience at the National Association for

Chicano Studies (NACS) Conference. This Voices de Mujer (Voices of the Woman) conference was monumental in that it was the first time NACS concentrated on Chicanas, and signaled that Chicana feminist thought had punctured a male-centered field of study.

This dissertation foregrounds the ways that Tejanas recognized the intersectionality of their race and gender activism, revealing third space feminisms, or what Blackwell describes as counterpublics, as well as the intersectional nature of women’s organizing during the

Chicana/o Movement.17 Chicana feminist scholars have long explored the importance

17 Historian Marisela R. Chávez argues that Chicana feminisms are rooted in a long history of ethnic Mexican women’s participation in social movements and efforts to address women’s issues. She illuminates how Francisca Flores and other women of her generation addressed ethnic Mexican women’s socio-economic plight during World War II in the League of Mexican-American Women (LMAW). They later collaborated with Chicana youth as seasoned activists for the service organization Comisión Feminil Mexicana Nacional (CFMN) in 1970. I use Chávez’s analysis of intergenerational activism to examine the ways Tejanas drew upon their ethnic feminist legacy and the expertise of older female activists in the Chicana/o Movement while forging homegrown feminisms. Marisela R. Chávez, “We Have a Long and Beautiful History’: Chicana Feminist 10

intersectionality to the Chicana experience. Sociologist Denise A. Segura’s Chicanas and

Triple Oppression in the Labor Force, in the 1986 NACS Conference proceedings Chicana

Voices: Intersections of Race, Class and Gender, highlighted Chicanas’ triple oppression of race, class, and gender in the labor sphere, documenting sex-based division of labor, familial constraints, and racial discrimination among Chicana workers.18 Historian Vicki Ruiz furthered this examination of Chicana labor struggles in her Cannery Women, Cannery Lives:

Mexican American Women, Unionization, and the California Packing Industry, 1930-1950.19

Focusing on Southern California, Ruiz illustrates Chicana working class activism as leaders and members of the United Cannery, Agricultural, Packing, and Allied Workers of America union. By the late 1980s, Chicana scholars extended the intersectional framework to include sexuality. Chicana lesbians Cultural Studies scholars such as Gloria Anzaldúa and Cherrie

Moraga, and historian Emma Perez foregrounded sexual liberation and queer theory in

Chicana/o Studies and beyond. The anthology This Bridge Called My Back, published in

1981, not only uncovered the multiple feminisms of women of color, but also how the women’s movement had yet to confront the ways women oppress other women through their race, class, and sexual privilege.20 Pérez’s articulation of Chicana third space feminism opened up new ways of seeing feminist sensibilities and strategies in groups like Club

Trajectories and Legacies,” in No Permanent Waves: Recasting Histories of U.S. Feminism, edited by Nancy A. Hewitt (New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 2010), 77-97.

18 Denise A. Segura, “Chicanas and Triple Oppression in the Labor Force,” in Chicana Voices: Intersections of Class, Race, and Gender, ed. Teresa Cordova (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1993), 47-65.

19 Vicki Ruiz, Cannery Women, Cannery Lives: Mexican Women, Unionization, and the California Food Processing Industry, 1930-1950 (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1987).

20 Cherrie Moraga and Gloria Anzaldúa, This Bridge Called My Back: Writings by Radical Women of Color (London: Persephone Press, 1981).

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Feminino Chapultepec and Club Mexico Bello in Houston.21 Chicana scholars have uncovered the ways race, class, gender, and sexuality have all shaped Chicana feminisms and fights for liberation, yet more intersectional analysis of the Chicana/o Movement is necessary.

By highlighting the regional distinctiveness of Tejana community feminisms and its connection to freedom movements more broadly, this dissertation broadens the scope of the

Chicana/o Movement historiography, which has tended to privilege the California experience generally.22 Recent scholars have asserted the heterogeneous nature of the Chicana/o struggle, revealing the ways in which Chicana/os engaged in a wider range of issues beyond segregation and discrimination, such as the anti-Vietnam War movement.23 These studies provide a fuller perspective of the Chicana/o Movement’s motives while delving into the gender dynamics of this era, but they still represent the predominance of California treatments in the Chicana/o Movement discourse. This singular focus on the Chicana/o

Movement implies that Chicana/o protest activities were concentrated in one region, or that the experience of one region is applicable to all regions.

This dissertation contends that Chicanas/os in California experienced a qualitative difference in racial oppression. While Chicanas/os in California were subject to educational

21 Perez, The Decolonial Imaginary.

22 Yolanda Alaniz and Megan Cornish, Viva la Raza: A History of Chicano History and Resistance (Seattle: Red Letter Press, 2008); Blackwell Chicana Power; George Mariscal, Brown-Eyed Children of the Sun: Lessons from the Chicano Movement, 1965-1975 (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 2005); Muñoz, Jr., Youth, Identity, Power; Laura Pulido, Black, Brown, Yellow, and Left: Radical Activism in Los Angeles (Berkley: University of California Press, 2006); and Richard T. Rodríguez, Next of Kin: The Family in Chicana/o Cultural Politics (Durham: Duke University Press, 2009).

23 Ernesto Chavez, “¡Mi Raza Primero!”(My People First!): Nationalism, Identity, and Insurgency in the Chicano Movement 1966-1978 (Berkley: University of California Press, 2002) and Lorena Oropeza, ¡Raza Sí! ¡Guerra No!: Chicano Protest and Patriotism during the Viet Nam War (Berkley: University of California Press, 2005).

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discrimination and other forms of violent oppression (including the nineteenth lynching of

Josefa Loaiza and Joaquin Murrieta, as well as World War II era Zoot Suit Riots) Tejanas/os grappled with an entrenched hostile and violent racial climate.24 The mass migrations sparked by the Mexican Revolution (1910-1920) and the discovery of El Plan de San Diego, a 1915 manifesto which called for ethnic Mexicans, Asians, and African Americans to collectively forge a resistance movement against Anglo dominance in the region, bred a series of mass lynchings and anti-Mexican fervor throughout South Texas shaped the context in which ethnic Mexicans claimed rights in the state. This plan reflected long-standing tensions between Anglos ethnic Mexicans and drew upon the impulses of the Mexican

Revolutionary era, seeking to rectify the injustices of racism, lynchings, and state-sponsored violence in the borderlands.

As result of this violence, ethnic Mexicans in Texas invested in integrationist campaigns as a path to rights, most notably the founding of League of United Latin American

Citizens (LULAC) in 1929.25 Around the time that LULAC became a central civil rights organization in Texas, El Congreso de Pueblo de Habla Española (the Spanish-Speaking

Congress) was founded in 1938 in California and was led by Josefina Fierro de Bright.

According to historian Mario T. Garcia, El Congreso represented a working class movement rooted in left-wing ethnic Mexican politics. This organization had national influence, but was concentrated on improving the material, social, and cultural conditions of ethnic Mexicans in

24 On Josefa Loaiza, see Maythee Rojas, “Re-membering Josefa: Reading the Mexican Female Body in California Gold Rush Chronicles,” Women’s Studies Quarterly 35:1/2 (Spring-Summer 2007): 126-148; for a general discussion of anti-Mexican violence, see Acuña, Occupied America; for a discussion of the Zoot Suit Riots, see Luis Alvarez, The Power of the Zoot: Youth Culture and Resistance During World War II (Berkley: University of California Press, 2008); Catherine Ramirez, The Woman in the Zoot Suit: Gender, Nationalism, and the Cultural Politics of Memory (Durham: Duke University Press, 2009).

25 Johnson, Revolution in Texas; Orozco, No Mexicans, Women, or Dogs Allowed.

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California.26 Representing two contrasting approaches to ethnic Mexican freedom, El

Congreso and LULAC were products of their environments and reflect major differences in

California and Texas activism. For LULAC, the Juan Crow South dictated that they focus on citizenship rights, embracing Americanization, and employing a legal strategy. On the other hand, El Congreso focused on defending the rights of documented and undocumented ethnic

Mexicans, was influenced by Mexican anarchist Ricardo Flores Magón, and often participated in rallies and demonstrations. In the realm of protest, ethnic Mexicans in

California deployed a wider range of tactics than ethnic Mexicans in Texas. After decades of struggles, Tejanas/os embraced more militant approaches during the Chicana/o Movement.

This dissertation’s focus on Texas contributes to recent scholarship that offers a more layered and comprehensive Chicana/o Movement narrative, excavating many different sites of the

Chicana/o struggle beyond California, prioritizing Texas in the national movimiento narrative, and underscoring the linkages between multiple and diverse locales.27 Local, regional, and national politics and discourses shaped Tejana community feminisms, and how

Tejana feminists worked from their local contexts and influenced local strategies.

Employing a relational framework, my project further investigates how Tejanas forged feminisms in conversation with the local, regional, and national race and gender politics of the Chicana/o Movement, the Black Power Movement, and the Anglo Feminist

Movement. Recent works by historians Luis Alvarez and Natalia Molina put forth a relational treatment of Chicana/o history that places ethnic groups at the center of the

26 Mario T. Garcia, Mexican Americans: Leadership, Ideology & Identity, 1930-1960 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1989), 146-175.

27 Guadalupe San Miguel, Brown Not White: School Integration and the Chicano Movement in Texas (College Station: Texas A&M University Press, 2005) and David Montejano, Quixote’s Soldiers: A Local History of the Chicano Movement, 1966-1981 (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2010).

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narrative in order to evaluate the nuances of gender, race, ethnic, and class formations.

Rather than use a comparative lens that has too often resulted in the comparison of an ethnic group to a mainstream white group, Alvarez and Molina reveal how different groups engage one another and how the construction of gender and ethnicity is a mutually constitutive process.28 This dissertation takes inspiration from such works, which have shown that understanding how groups relate to and define themselves against others opens opportunities to understand inter-ethnic and intra-ethnic politics. For example, Alvarez argues that non- white, Zoot Suit clad youth in 1940s Los Angeles and New York responded to racial indignities and violence by claiming dignity through racial and gender identity formation.

Dignity, for Alvarez, is a resistance to conform and endure discrimination. I use the phrase

“confrontational dignity” to describe how African American men and Tejanos, in relation to each other, expressed hypermasculine postures and rhetoric to combat racial, political, and economic oppression. African American male and Tejano pursuit of confrontational dignity, however, fueled African American women’s and Tejanas own claims to dignity as women of color fighting against racism and sexism.

Methodology

My dissertation is guided by several key questions. It examines how Tejanas straddled a commitment to feminism and nationalism during the 1970s, and how they found ways to merge anti-racism and anti-sexism positions. Focusing on this critical period of social unrest, I tease out the different strands of feminism that emerged during this era, with attention to why certain strains gained traction at particular moments. I uncover how Tejanas

28 Alvarez, The Power of the Zoot; Natalia Molina, Fit to be Citizens?: Public Health and Race in Los Angeles (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2006). 15

engaged in ethnic self-determination in the areas of education, community programs, political campaigning, and women’s spaces. This study also explores how local, regional, and national politics shaped Tejana community feminisms, and how in the process of forging their own feminist sensibilities, Tejanas drew upon the legacy of ethnic Mexican women’s gender and ethnic activism. It also explores the internal and external challenges that Tejanas faced in cultivating a feminist agenda. Situating Tejana community feminisms in the nexus of social unrest, I uncover the ways the Chicana/o Movement, the Black Power Movement, and the Anglo Feminist Movement all contributed to Tejanas’ anti-racist and anti-sexist stance.

This dissertation focuses on Austin, Houston, and San Antonio, Texas from 1967 to

1978 for several important reasons. All three cities had robust chapters of MAYO and LRUP where women played significant roles during this window of time. These high-profile

Tejanas were not only active in MAYO and LRUP, but they also participated in ethnic self- determination and women rights campaigns within and outside the Chicana/o Movement in these cities. Tejanas further generated a rich Texas-centered, homegrown feminist culture expressed in pamphlets, radio outlets, newspapers, and conferences, providing a vibrant archive of primary source material that calls for deep study. This print and media culture— rooted in their Texas experiences—circulated regionally and nationally in ways that must be examined more critically. Additionally, the strong presence of the Black Power Movement, particularly in cities like Houston, allows for a close examination of the ways activists informed and inspired one another. Existing in close proximity to one another, Black Power activism informed the ideology and praxis of the Tejana/o protest struggle in these three areas where MAYO and LRUP were prominent. Lastly, Chicanas in Austin, Houston, and

San Antonio engaged in the broader Anglo Feminist Movement in several high profile

16

conferences that were held in these cities, most notably, the 1977 National Women’s

Conference. These three Texas cities provide a lens for exploring how Tejanas crafted community feminisms in relation to the Chicana/o Movement, the Black Power Movement, and the Anglo Feminist Movement, and illustrate how a Texas focus changes national narratives.

In order to uncover Tejana community feminisms within the context of liberation politics, my dissertation relies heavily on oral histories. Some of these oral histories are drawn from extensive existing archival collections, including the the Chicana Por Mi Raza

Digital Archive (University of Illinois at Urbana Champaign) the Houston Oral History

Project (The University of Houston and the Houston Metropolitan Research Center),

Tejana/o Voices (The University of Texas at Arlington) and the Civil Rights in Black and

Brown Oral History Project (Texas Christian University). In addition, I conducted seventeen of the oral histories in this study, including interviews conducted as a research assistant for the CRBB Project. While conducting oral histories with prominent Tejana feminists, I employed a feminist practice of oral history. A feminist practice of oral history takes into consideration how gender, ethnicity, race, class, and socio-historical circumstances shape the personal narrative and rests on being sensitive to interviewee’s feelings, attitudes, values, and hidden speech while also keeping in mind that it is a collaborative interpersonal process.29

Through a feminist practice of oral history, interviews can become mutually beneficial for the interviewer and interviewee. In uncovering the hidden history of Tejana community feminisms, I have made a conscious effort to make interviews and findings accessible to interviewees, as oral history is not a one-way process. Moreover, I ask open-ended questions

29 For a discussion of the feminist oral history practice see Sherna Berger Gluck and Daphine Patai, Women’s Words: The Feminist Practice of Oral History (London: Routledge, 1991). 17

that ask interviewees how they feel, to describe an event, and to talk about their experiences.

In this way, the oral history becomes a testimonio (testimony) whereby Tejanas are provided a space to express the trauma of life in the Juan Crow South, to share intergenerational stories that merge to form their own personal story, and to make political statements against institutional and inter-ethnic efforts to render Tejanas invisible.30 A feminist practice of oral history also seeks to create an intimate atmosphere where interviewees are comfortable talking about their views and experiences. In all settings, whether at home or in a public space, I worked to maintain a comfortable setting by attentively listening. While archives on

Tejana activism and feminism exist, oral histories have been critical to tapping into underappreciated and undocumented sites of feminist formations.

Organization

The chapters in this dissertation are organized chronologically and thematically.

Chapter 1 traces the ways the Black Power Movement’s confrontational dignity shaped

Tejanos’ hypermasculine ideology and praxis. While the legacy of ethnic Mexican resistance in the borderlands inspired Tejanos in MAYO, the fight for ethnic self-determination was modeled largely after the Student Non-Violent Coordinating Committee’s and the Black

Panthers’ confrontational stances. Tejano activists were convinced that leading direct action

30 Throughout the Americas, Latinas/os have utilized testimonials to challenge social and cultural systems of repression and to bear witness to their lived experiences. Rina Benmayor, “Testimony, Action, Research, and Empowerment: Puerto Rican Women and Popular Education,” in Women’s Words: The Feminist Practice of Oral History edited by Sherna Berger Gluck and Daphne Patai (New York: Routledge, 1991), 159- 174; Vanessa Aurora Chang, et al, “Latina Faculty/Staff Testimonios on Scholarship Production,” Chicana/Latina Studies: The Journal of MALCS 15:2 (Spring 2016): 125-149; and Graciela Di Marco, “The Mothers and Grandmothers of Plaza de Mayo Speak,” in Women’s Activism in Latin America and the Caribbean: Engendering Social Justice, Democratizing Citizenship edited by Elizabeth Maier and Nathalie Lebon (New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 2010), 95-110.

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tactics and directing their energy against the gringo oppressor held answers to eradicating the entrenched anti-Mexican discrimination and violence in the borderlands. Tejano confrontational stances fueled Tejanas’ own pursuit of dignity as women of color who were often relegated to the margins by fellow male activists and the Anglo power structure. Tejana claims to dignity spurred women’s rights activism within and outside of the movimiento.

Their own experiences in the Juan Crow South compelled Tejanas to merge anti-sexism with anti-racism. Chapter 2 chronicles the ways Tejanas participated in the educational self- determination struggles through MAYO, and in the process, generated a budding feminist sensibility. Bridging race and gender issues, nueva Tejanas played critical roles in establishing ethnic studies in higher education as well as bilingual/bicultural K-12 education, laying the foundations of Chicana Studies and culturally sensitive curricula. In these spaces,

Tejanas drew upon the revolutionary energy of ethnic Mexican and Cuban women to empower Tejanas and Tejanos. Chapter 3 explores Tejana counterpublics, or autonomous organizations and conferences, as sites where activists defined and advanced the core principals of Tejana feminist thought: sexual freedom, reproductive justice, ethnic self- determination, sisterhood, bolstering Chicana Studies, and deconstructing cultural and mainstream stereotypes and archetypes. Examining the 1971 La Conferencia de Mujeres Por

La Raza (Women for the Race Conference), the Chicana Research and Learning Center, the

Mexican American Business and Professional Women’s Association and the 1975 Chicana

Identity Conference, I demonstrate the ways national, regional, and local discourses shaped

Tejana community feminisms. Tejana counterpublics illustrate that Chicanas wanted to be liberated, but on their own terms as women of color in the South fighting for personal and collective community freedom. Chapter 4 traces the ways Tejanas intervened in LRUP to

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advance ethnic Mexican women’s political participation, to enter the fray of ethnic third- party electoral politics as political candidates, and to reconceive the metaphor of la familia to bring the whole community into the political sphere. While serving as the backbone of

LRUP, Tejanas also furthered cross-racial organizing, forging Black and Brown connections that would prove vital for future political struggles. Chapter 5 destabilizes the white framing of women’s liberation, documenting how Tejanas represented their distinct community feminisms in the mainstream Anglo Feminism Movement. Participating actively in Texas

Women’s Political Caucus and National Women’s Political Caucus, Tejanas pursued women’s rights grounded in ethnic self-determination. The paternalism and racism that

Tejanas experienced in the mainstream Anglo Feminism Movement spurred Tejanas’ deeper commitment to racial liberation.

The objective of this dissertation is to highlight the multifaceted ways Tejanas merged a commitment to feminism and nationalism in the1960s and 1970s. By combining

Chicana/o, and gender histories and using a relational frame, this study brings Tejanas voices to the fore to reveal moments of convergence and divergence in the Chicana/o Movement, the Black Power Movement, and the Anglo Feminist Movement. Overall, this project underscores the ways Tejanas forged homegrown community feminisms to combat sexism and racism as women of color in the South. Tejanas were not passive actors in the protest struggles of the 1960s and 1970s. They not only asserted their distinct feminisms, but were critical to manifesting freedom for all members of the ethnic Mexican community.

A Note on Terminology

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Due to the fluid migration patterns in the borderlands, I employ the term “ethnic

Mexicans” to refer broadly to multiple generations who reside in Texas. “Chicana/o” is used to reference activists who participated in the liberation movements of the 1960s and 1970s, as they commonly self-identified as such. To underscore Chicanas/os from Texas who participated in the Chicana/o Movement and forged their distinct ideologies and praxis, I use the term “Tejanas/os.” I also employ the phrase “nueva Tejanas” to describe Tejanas who tapped into the revolutionary spirit of ethnic Mexican and Cuban revolutionary women when intervening within and beyond the Chicana/o Movement. I use the phrase “ethnic studies” as a reminder that Chicana/o Studies was a part of a larger movement for ethnic-based teaching and research centers (i.e. African American Studies). I use “movimiento” and “partido” when referring to the Chicana/o Movement and LRUP. Lastly, I use the term “Anglo” and “gringo” when referencing the white population of Texas, particularly when describing the power structure. The term gringo was the phrase frequently employed by Tejana/o activists.

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Chapter One Relational Black and Brown Power: Manhood, Dignity, and Tejana Feminist Formations

“Justicia para el Chicano” means just that Justice for the Chicano and not the Chicana. Maria Jiménez, “Women Still Powerless”1

In 1957, Maria Jiménez crossed la frontera (the border) at the age of six, migrating with her family from Coahuila, Mexico to Houston, Texas. Wondering if there would be flowers, she was elated to see bluebonnets guiding her path toward a new life in the United

States. Her initial experiences in the South, however, were quickly stained by images of codified racism. While traveling on public transportation, she witnessed African Americans sitting in the back of buses. Startled by these observations, she inquired about the segregation of African Americans. Jimenéz’s father replied that was the way things were in the South— that by law they could not sit in the front. On her way to Houston, she also encountered anti-

Mexican racism. In towns like Schulenberg and Seguin, her family was denied service at restaurants. Once her family settled in the ethnic enclave of Magnolia Park, Jiménez had daily experiences with defacto segregation: “Hidalgo Park [was] the Mexican park. As a child, that was the only park we could play in. Parks were segregated. We couldn’t play in any other park in [Houston] except I remember we could go to the pool at Mason Park on the day they cleaned it…but we couldn’t play in [the white-only] Mason Park.”2 In her formative years, she became accustomed to hearing Anglo classmates use the expression “dirty

1 Maria Jiménez, “Women Still Powerless,” Papel Chicano 1.4 (1971) 8.

2 Maria Jiménez, interview by author, audio recording, July 28, 2013, Houston, TX.

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Mexicans” and endured a rejection of anything culturally Mexican, including language, food, and music.3

Firsthand experiences with stark discrimination in the Juan Crow and Jim Crow South emboldened Jiménez and other Tejanas in the late 1960s to enter the fray of ethnic self- determination politics through the Mexican American Youth Organization (MAYO). As the principal Chicana/o Movement organization in Texas, MAYO had approximately thirty chapters across the state in 1968. For Jiménez, the Chicana/o Movement, as embodied in

MAYO, “was a nationalist response to a concrete situation,” a fight for social justice in the climate of state-sanctioned anti-Mexican racism.4 As a Tejana activist, she not only pursued racial equality, but also launched struggles for female empowerment in educational and political arenas. Jiménez’s broad vision of liberation resonated with Tejanas who endured social, economic, and political barriers as women of color.

The entrenched social practice and custom of Juan Crow in Texas—which dictated generations of residential, employment, and education patterns—also steered Tejanos toward bold expressions of manhood. In the late 1960s, Tejano activists deployed a hyper-masculine rhetoric and leadership that stifled Tejanas’ own pursuit of social justice. Although Tejanas were dedicated to ethnic liberation, their own issues as women of color were obscured in the male-centered environment of MAYO. Coming-of-age in Texas witnessing anti-Mexican racism and state-sanctioned violence, José Angel Gutiérrez, Willie Velasquez, Ignacio Perez,

Juan Patlan, and Mario Compean formed MAYO in 1967 in San Antonio. The male

3 Jiménez, interview.

4 Ibid.

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leadership of MAYO forged a militant ethos modeled after the direct action tactics of the

Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC) and the Black Panther Party (BPP) because they were convinced that the Black Power Movement’s ideology and praxis held answers to eradicating generations of structural inequality.5 They perceived the accomodationist strategies of their political predecessors as failing to stem blatant forms of racism in the segregated South, and so founders of MAYO adopted African American confrontational politics to achieve their own ethnic self-determination. The Black Power inspired guerilla theatre and male-centered organizational style, focused on the liberation of all Brown people, however, often left little room for women to hold leadership positions or play a significant role in the decision-making process.

This chapter traces the ways that the Black Power Movement’s confrontational stances against racism resonated with Tejano activists in the segregated South, and how hypermasculinity in MAYO created the context from which Tejana community feminisms emerged. The protest era of the 1960s and 1970s represented a turn in the long road for Black and Brown freedom and dignity.6 While MAYO tapped into the legacy of ethnic Mexican resistance in the borderlands, their claims to Brown Power were grounded in the broader

5 Armando Navarro, Mexican American Youth Organization: Avante-Garde of the Chiano Movement in Texas (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2014), Kindle Edition, Location 1899-1907.

6 Jacquelyn Dowd Hall describes the “long civil rights movement” as a struggle that emerged in the 1930s, took various shapes over the course of the twentieth century, included male and female actors, experienced continuous backlash, and generated a “movement of movements” in the 1960s and 1970s. For Dowd Hall, the evolving civil rights movement encompassed multiple strategies towards the establishment of racial equality and economic justice. Building on Dowd Hall’s notion of the “long civil rights movement,” I underscore the ways the protest era was rooted in past struggles and how women’s activism broadened the fight for racial liberation to include gender equality. Jacquelyn Dowd Hall, “The Long Civil Rights Movement and the Political Uses of the Past,” The Journal of American History 91:4 (2005): 1233-1263.

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nexus of late-twentieth century ethnic liberation politics.7 SNCC and BPP offered a meaningful blueprint for challenging white male supremacy and expressing manhood. In the context of the Juan Crow and Jim Crow South, claiming dignity as Brown man became all the more important in charting a path toward racial freedom. This contextual chapter argues that as Tejanos asserted a confrontational dignity in the protest era in their quest for power and influence, Tejano hypermasculine claims to dignity, however, denied dignity to mujeres claiming their own gender self-determination. Tejanas understood the institutional forces fueling male activists’ pursuit of leadership and power. Nonetheless, they were unwilling to be relegated to prescribed gender roles. Tejanas responded to the hypermasculinity in MAYO by nourishing community feminisms that tackled both structural and intra-ethnic oppression in the spheres of education, women’s conferences and organizations, electoral politics, and the Anglo Feminist Movement. This examination of how the Black Power Movement fueled

Tejano confrontational dignity is critical to understanding how and why Tejanas chose to frame and deploy their community feminisms in particular ways, as addressed in the succeeding chapters.

The development of the Juan Crow South, emerging over the course of Anglo ascendance in political and economic arenas, fundamentally shaped ethnic Mexican identity formation and responses to violent discrimination in the early 1900s. When the Black Power

Movement emerged in the 1960s, it set the tone for militant approaches to decades of stark

7 For more information on ethnic Mexican resistance in the borderlands, see Martha P. Cotera, Diosa y Hembra: History and Heritage of Chicanas in the United State (Austin: Information Systems Development, 1976); Benjamin H. Johnson, Revolution in Texas: How a Forgotten Rebellion and Its Bloody Suppression Turned Mexicans into Americans (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2005); Cynthia Orozco, No Mexicans, Women, or Dogs Allowed: The Rise of the Mexican American Civil Rights Movement (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2009); Omar S. Valerio-Jiménez, River of Hope: Forging Identity and Nation in the Rio Grande Borderlands (Durham: Duke University Press, 2013); and Nicholas Villanueva, Jr., The Lynching of Mexicans in the Texas Borderlands (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 2017). 25

racial oppression. That is, the confrontational rhetoric and tactics embedded in MAYO’s protest movement were relational to the strategies sought by BPP and SNCC. Historian Luis

Alvarez argues that when “non-white youth [are] denied their dignity through discrimination, violence, and negative discourse, [they reclaim] it by….performing unique race and gender identities.”8 Building on Luis Alvarez’s definition of dignity as a “refusal to accept humiliation, a refusal to quietly endure dehumanization, and a refusal to conform,” I use the phrase “confrontational dignity” in this chapter to describe how African American men and, in relation, Tejanos in MAYO engaged in radical stances and discourses to overcome the humiliation of racial, political, and economic marginalization.9 As sociologist Maxine Baca

Zinn notes, expressions of masculinity largely reflect structural race and class subjugation and exclusion in an Anglo male dominated society, as “alternative roles and identity sources are systematically blocked from men in certain social categories.”10 That is, Black and

Brown men asserted confrontational dignity in a segregated environment that restricted their power and influence in multiple arenas. In this context of confrontational dignity, African

American women responded by championing both anti-racism and anti-sexism. Tejanas in

MAYO reacted in similar ways. Compounding the sexism that accompanied Tejano confrontational dignity was the Chicana/o nationalist notion of la familia (the family), which advocated for Tejana selflessness and acceptance of male-dominated politics. Tejanas,

8 Luis Alvarez, The Power of the Zoot: Youth Culture and Resistance During WWII (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2008), 80.

9 Luis Alvarez, “From Zoot Suit to Hip Hop: Towards a Relational Chicana/o Studies,” Latino Studies 5:1 (2007): 53-75.

10 Maxine Baca Zinn, “Chicano Men and Masculinity,” The Journal of Ethnic Studies 10:2 (1982): 29- 44.

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however, did not remain silent about their contributions or gender discrimination. Instead,

Tejanas claimed their own dignity by dismantling racist practices in the South while cultivating their own feminisms in Austin, San Antonio, and Houston.

While scholars have documented the racial landscape of Texas in the nineteenth and twentieth century and underscored the segregation of ethnic Mexicans, they have not examined the ways that the long legacies of the Juan Crow South and Jim Crow South spurred confrontational politics in the protest era and how Tejanas responded to the denial of gender dignity.11 Witnessing the solidification of Anglo social and political hegemony, ethnic

Mexican men and women mounted resistance to their second-class treatment. Violence pervaded the borderlands as Tejanas/os fought for citizenship rights and Anglos suppressed any threat to their authority. State-sanctioned brutality ranged in intensity, from lynchings to segregation to police brutality. This trajectory of ethnic Mexican repression is central to understanding the emergence of homegrown Tejana community feminisms that merged anti- racism and anti-sexism.

Violence and Resistance in the Juan and Jim Crow South

11 Arnoldo De León, They Called Them Greasers: Anglo Attitudes toward Mexicans in Texas, 1821- 1900 (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1983); William D. Carrington and Clive Webb, Forgotten Dead: Mob Violence against Mexicans in the United States, 1848-1928 (New York: Oxford University Press, 2013); Johnson, Revolution in Texas; Miguel Antonio Levario, Militarizing the Border: When Mexicans Became the Enemy (College Station: Texas A&M Press, 2012); Monica Muñoz Martínez, “‘Inherited Loss’: Tejanas and Tejanos Contesting State Violence and Revising Public Memory, 1910-Present,” (PhD diss., Yale University, 2012); David Montejano, Anglos and Mexicans in the Making of Texas, 1836-1986 (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1987); Jennifer R. Nájera, The Borderlands of Race: Mexican Segregation in a South Texas Town (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2015); Orozco, No Mexicans, Women, or Dogs Allowed and Raúl Ramos, Beyond the Alamo: Forging Mexican Ethnicity in San Antonio, 1821-1861 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2008).

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Tejana/o fights for self-determination and a hypermasculine ethos in the protest era are rooted in the history of ethnic Mexican resistance to Anglo violence in the borderlands.

Anglos settlement in Texas in 1822 culminated in a battle for independence fourteen years later. Desiring to maintain socio-political capital amid Anglos’ growing clout and detesting the centralization of political power in Mexico, Tejano elites joined Anglos in the fight to secure Texas independence.12 However, Tejana/o influence declined in the years following the war. In the turbulent years following Texas Independence, Anglos nurtured anti-Mexican sentiments and grew increasingly suspicious of ethnic Mexicans because of their “political and ethnic relation to Mexico.”13 Juan Seguín, who initially carried political weight in San

Antonio for his assistance in the Texas Revolution and the establishment of the republic, came to be seen as a traitor as the Anglo population swelled in the 1840s.14 During this period, Anglo newspapers fanned the flames of anti-Mexican fervor, including the Houston

Telegraph and Texas Register, which described ethnic Mexicans as backward and degenerate, and the Houston Morning Star, which promoted the complete take-over of

Mexico by Anglo Texans.15 As the Anglo population increased, Anglos brokered compromises that set the stage for their political domination in the years following the U.S.-

Mexican War. Seeking to preserve control of their lands, the Tejano elite in South Texas

12 Ramos, Beyond the Alamo, 137-138.

13 Ramos, Beyond the Alamo, 167.

14 For more information on the political fall of Juan Seguín, see Jesús F. de la Teja, A Revolution Remembered: The Memoirs and Selected Correspondence of Juan N. Seguín (Austin: State House Press, 1991).

15 Thomas H. Kreneck Del Pueblo: A History of Houston’s Hispanic Community (College Station: Texas A&M University Press, 2012), Kindle Edition, location 327.

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solidified a peace agreement with Anglos whereby ethnic Mexicans would become politically subordinate.16

Such peace agreements, however, offered little protection as Anglos grew increasingly suspicious of ethnic Mexicans once calls for reconquista (reconquest) appeared in Mexican newspapers in the 1850s. According to Ramos, Mexican Government efforts to reclaim power in Texas heightened racial tensions between Anglos and Tejanas/os. Anglos cemented their supremacy in the borderlands by advocating for the blanket removal of ethnic

Mexicans, whether or not they were loyal to the Republic of Texas.17 The forced and deadly removal of ethnic Mexicans came by way of disenfranchisement, land theft, social exclusion, and lynching during the late 1800s.

Even after Texas became part of the United States in 1848, Tejanas/os endured increasingly violent Anglo socio-political repression. Acting as the enforcement arm of

Anglo political and economic domination, the Texas Rangers policed ethnic Mexicans as targets for removal. According to historians William D. Carrington and Clive Webb, the

Texas Rangers were complicit in the extra-legal executions of ethnic Mexicans over Anglo pursuit of land as cotton production spread rapidly in South Texas. By 1892, forty-five years after the annexing of Texas, Anglos in Cameron County had effectively forced ethnic

Mexicans off their land. Indeed, Anglos owned approximately four times as much land as

Spanish-surnamed individuals.18 Anglo land grabs, and overall control of Texas, were not

16 For more information on the peace agreement between the Tejano elite and the Anglo elite in South Texas, see Montejano, Anglos and Mexicans in the Making of Texas and Omar S. Valerio-Jiménez, River of Hope: Forging Identity and Nation in the Rio Grande Borderlands (Durham: Duke University Press, 2013).

17 Ramos, Beyond the Alamo, 184.

18 Montejano, Anglos and Mexicans, Kindle Edition, location 1343.

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accomplished without violence. The Texas Rangers, representing a special force of brutality, openly defended the lynching of ethnic Mexicans. Under the watch of this frontier enforcement, 232 predominately ethnic Mexican men fell victim to Anglo mob violence from

1848-1928.19 Historian Arnóldo De León notes that the Anglo depiction of ethnic Mexicans as greasers—as an ugly, thieving, and inferior class that made great field hands—informed how the Texas Rangers policed the borderlands. In the 1870s and 1880s, they “carried out a campaign of terrorizing the Mexicans of the Rio Grande Valley (and Mexico) at every opportunity on the premise that the more fear that they created, the easier would be their work of subduing the Mexican raiders.”20

Anti-Mexican terror, primarily in the form of lynching, continued to define the early twentieth century as the Mexican Revolution (1910-1920) ushered a wave of ethnic Mexican migration to the Texas borderlands. Historian Neil Foley notes that the mass migration of ethnic Mexicans ignited Anglo fears that ethnic Mexicans would dismantle white civilization.21 As the Mexican Revolution destabilized the border and ethnic Mexicans raided

Anglo ranches, the Texas Rangers participated in the campaign of neutralizing the “enemy other.”22 This frontier force worked alongside Anglo rangers in executing ethnic Mexicans.

In 1918, the Texas Rangers and an Anglo mob arrived at El Porvenir, a village where 140 refugees, including women, children, and men, resided. Despite the lack of arms and

19 Carrington and Webb, Forgotten Dead, 6; Refusing to Forget, https://refusingtoforget.org/.

20 De León, They Called Them Greasers, Kindle Edition, location 1898.

21 Neil Foley, The White Scourge, (Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1999), Kindle Edition, location 598.

22 For more information on how ethnic Mexicans came to be regarded as the “enemy other” and un- American, see De León, The Called Them Greasers; Levario, Militarizing the Border; Valerio-Jiménez, River of Hope; and Villanueva, Jr., The Lynching of Mexicans in the Texas Borderlands.

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evidence of raided items, fifteen ethnic Mexican men and boys were lynched for suspected banditry. According to historian Miguel A. Levario, the Porvenir Massacre “exposed the extent of the Ranger violence against Mexicans as well as the sense of impunity with which they acted.”23

Accompanying decades of terror was the flagrant denial of ethnic Mexican citizenship rights. While the 1848 Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo legally allowed ethnic

Mexicans to enjoy the fruits of citizenship if they remained in the United States, they nonetheless experienced second-class treatment. Indeed, ethnic Mexicans endured generations of institutional, geographic, and social segregation that dictated their education levels, residential patterns in barrios, and their limited job opportunities. State-sanctioned anti-Mexican violence buttressed efforts to assert Anglo political and economic power as well as ensure that ethnic Mexicans did not claim civil rights.24 Racist conceptions of ethnic

Mexicans emboldened Anglos to outright refuse Tejana/o equality. Historical sociologist

David Montejano contends that “Mexican-Anglo relations in the late nineteenth century were inconsistent and contradictory, but the general direction pointed to the formation of a ‘race situation,’ a situation where ethnic or national prejudice provided a basis for separation and control.”25 The racialization and marginalization of ethnic Mexicans not only resulted in the sustained loss of political and economic power, but also made them subject to defacto segregation.26

23 Levario, Militarizing the Border, 34.

24 Rodolfo Acuña, Occupied America: A History of Chicanos (San Francisco: Canfield Press, 1972), 34.

25 Montejano, Anglos and Mexicans, Kindle Edition, location 1539-1541.

26 Documenting ethnic Mexican fights for civil rights, journalist Maggie Rivas-Rodriguez argues that Tejanas/os experienced a defaco segregation that placed ethnic Mexican students in separate and inferior 31

Anti-Mexican violence and subjugation in the borderlands solidified the Mexican race situation, but also spurred resistance. Tejanas/os publically denounced state-sponsored terror and organized against it. From 1910-1911, La Crónica, a Tejana/o newspaper, charged the

Anglo power structure with the impoverished condition of ethnic Mexicans, the loss of the ethnic Mexican culture, the lack of education opportunities, lynchings, and the segregation of ethnic Mexicans in a series of articles.27 Managed by the Idar family of South Texas, La

Crónica denounced the lychings of Antonio Rodriguez and Antonio Gómez, both of whom died at the hands of unfettered Anglo mob violence. Spotlighting education discrimination,

Clemente Idar documented the ways ethnic Mexicans were excluded from public education, and how such exclusion violated the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo. This Tejana/o newspaper advocated not only for equal access to education, but also bilingual education. To remedy the ethnic Mexican education situation, La Crónica proposed “a separate school system staffed by imported Mexican teachers where the primary language of instruction would be

Spanish.”28 According to cultural and literary critic José E. Limón, the Idars utilized their vast connections to plan a state-wide convention that would address the issues they raised in their newspaper, as they believed that the “organization, unification, and education of the

[ethnic] Mexican masses [was] the only solution.”29 In 1911, El Congreso Mexicanista (the

schools and restricted their social and political power. Maggie Rivas-Rodriguez, Texas Mexican Americans & Postwar Civil Rights (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2015). Historian Brian D. Behnken concurs that ethnic Mexicans experienced their own brand of Jim Crow that crippled access to citizenship rights. Brian D. Behnken, Fighting Their Own Battles: Mexican Americans, African Americans, and the Struggle for Civil Rights in Texas (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2011).

27 José E. Limón, “El Primer Congreso Mexicanista de 1911: A Precursor to Contemporary Chicanismo,” Aztlán 5 (Spring/Fall 1974): 87.

28 Limón, “El Primer Congreso Mexicanista,” 90.

29 Limón, “El Primer Congreso Mexicanista,” 92.

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Mexican Congress)—an assembly of approximately four hundred ethnic Mexican journalists, teachers, and mutual aid society representatives—gathered in Laredo.30 Wielding their numerical strength and social influence, the assembly launched a campaign to eradicate racial discrimination, preserve Tejana/o land rights, and halt the lynching of ethnic Mexicans. This

Tejana/o assembly launched the Gran Liga Mexicanista de Beneficenia y Proteccíon (Great

Mexican League for Benefit and Protection), which promoted ethnic Mexican culture, combated state-sponsored violence, and addressed educational segregation. In tandem with the work of the Gran Liga Mexicanista de Beneficenia y Proteccíon, Jovita Idar founded and served at the helm of the Liga Femenil Mexicanista (the Mexican Women’s League).

Working alongside María de Jesús De León, Soledad F. de Peña, María Rentería, and Moníca

Villarreal, Jovita Idar operated education centers for poor ethnic Mexican children who could not afford schooling.31 Tejanas involved in the Liga Femenil Mexicanista vowed to uphold

“the ideal set by Mexican heroines” and ensure that ethnic Mexican children “would develop intellectually and with a strength and pride in their heritage.”32 Embracing the revolutionary tradition of ethnic Mexican women and bolstering the self-esteem of children, this women’s organization served as a critical forerunner to the anti-racism and anti-sexism campaigns of

Tejana community feminists in the 1960s and 1970s. The Liga Femenil Mexicanista, La

Crónica, El Congreso Mexicanista, and the Gran Liga Mexicanista de Beneficenia y

30 Montejano, Anglos and Mexicans, Kindle Edition, location 2149.

31 Limón, “El Primer Congreso Mexicanista,” 98.

32 Martha P. Cotera, Profile on the Mexican American Woman (Austin: Information Systems Development, 1976), 77. For more on Jovita Idar, see Gabriela González, “The Ideological Origins of a Transnational Advocate for La Raza,” in Texas Women: Their Histories, Their Lives, eds. Elizabeth Hayes Turner, et al. (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 2015), 225-248.

33

Proteccíon represented bold and forthright responses to Anglo repression in the early twentieth century. Through articles and organizations, Tejanas/os sought to combat institutional racism, retain ethnic Mexican culture, and create bilingual educational access.

Tejanas/os opted to deploy more accommodationist tactics in the face of escalated hatred and violence during the latter stages of the Mexican Revolution era. In 1915, four years after the formation of El Congreso Mexicanista, a revolutionary manifesto entitled El

Plan de San Diego surfaced, calling for ethnic Mexicans, African Americans, and Japanese to forge an inter-ethnic rebellion and liberate the Southwest. According to Montejano, El

Plan de San Diego reflected the “bitter character of Anglo-Mexican relations of the time,” and Tejana/o desire to exact “vengeance for specific wrongs,” including displacement, racism, lynchings, and police brutality.33 The manifesto was a confrontational response to the injustices Tejanas/os experienced in the borderlands, and a radical call to action predating the guerilla theatre of the 1960s and 1970s. In the turbulent climate of the Mexican

Revolution, however, this confrontational stance to border violence was short-lived. The discovery of El Plan de San Diego further emboldened Anglos to remove ethnic Mexicans.

Historian Monica Muñoz Martinez notes that the discovery of El Plan de San Diego led to the blanket targeting of ethnic Mexican men as enemies of the state. Under the authority of

Texas Governor James Edward Ferguson, the Texas Rangers heightened their anti-Mexican brutality in the borderlands. As evidenced by the execution of fifteen innocent men during the Porvenir Massacre discussed above, the Texas Rangers operated in a “culture of impunity in which the murder of an ethnic Mexican rarely resulted in an arrest, prosecution, or even an investigation” and “racial terror took the form of massacres, lynchings, and execution style

33 Montejano, Anglos and Mexicans, Kindle Edition, location 2189.

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murders.”34 The corpses of ethnic Mexican men were found in such abundance after El Plan de San Diego that in September of 1915 the San Antonio Express News refused to publish further reports of discovered ethnic Mexican bodies to prevent repetition and redundancy.35

The era of violent repression that commenced after the discovery of El Plan de San

Diego not only fueled ethnic Mexican migration from Texas to Mexico, but also fostered ethnic Mexican investment in integrationist campaigns. Historian Benjamin Johnson contends that, in response to the backlash following El Plan de San Diego, the Tejana/o business and social elite advocated for the Progressive uplifting of ethnic Mexicans through whiteness and assimilation. For Johnson, Tejana/o Progressives sought to “fuse what they thought of best of both Mexico and United States,” by creating a literate, enlightened, and flourishing class while pressuring Anglos to uphold ethnic Mexican political rights.36

Directing the Tejana/o Progressive movement was J.T. Canales and members of the Idar family. Witnessing how defacto segregation confined Tejanos to “separate and poorly funded schools, denial of service at restaurants and hotels, and exclusion from public accommodations,” Tejana/o Progressives sought to gain social and political capital and overcome the caste system through the Anglo Protestant ethos of individual economic and educational success.37 The anti-Mexican brutality that pervaded the borderlands after the El

Plan de San Diego solidified the Tejana/o Progressive pursuit of whiteness and assimilation

34 Muñoz Martínez, “‘Inherited Loss,’” 27.

35 Muñoz Martínez, “‘Inherited Loss,’” 127. For more information on the lynching of ethnic Mexicans in the borderlands following the discovery of El Plan de San Diego, see Refusing to Forget, https://refusingtoforget.org.

36 Johnson, Revolution in Texas, 42.

37 Johnson, Revolution in Texas, 47.

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and contributed to the formation of accommodationist organizations that would dominate the political landscape for decades.38

One of the most notable of these integrationist organizations was the League of

United Latin American Citizens (LULAC). In 1929, Tejano Progressive men collaborated with World War I veterans to launch LULAC. This largely middle class organization embraced Americanization, sought to access the privileges of whiteness, and stood against

39 undocumented migration in the pursuit of social and political equality. Confirming its loyalty to U.S. society, LULAC made English the official language of the organization and sought to develop ethnic Mexicans into bona fide citizens.40 It also distanced itself from revolutionary ethnic Mexican politics by strongly opposing “any radical and violent demonstrations which may tend to create conflicts and disturb and the peace and tranquility of [the] country.”41 Historian Cynthia Orozco notes the founders of LULAC lived “during an era of lynching” and “experienced racial subordination and second-class citizenship” as “they

38 Accommodation was not the only response to racial discrimination during in the early-twentieth century. In Depression-era San Antonio, Emma Tenayuca was captivated by Communism and participated in ethnic Mexican labor strikes. Most notably, Tenayuca became a leader in the Pecan Shellers Strike, which was supported by the United Cannery and Agricultural Packing and Allied Workers of America. The Pecan Shellers Strike lasted three months, during which picketers were arrested, tear gassed, and red-baited. As historian Gabriela González notes, Tenayuca’s role in the strike represented a potent challenge to the racist, classist, and sexist nature of San Antonio’s political machine. Such radical insurgencies, while impactful, were few and far between. Due to her communist affiliations and role in the strike, Tenayuca received death threats and was blacklisted in San Antonio. For more on Emma Tenayuca and the Pecan Shellers Strike, see Gabriela González, “Carolina Mungía and Emma Tenayuca: The Politics of Benevolence and Radical Reform,” A Journal of Women Studies 24, no. 2/3 (2003): 200-229.

39Arnóldo De León, Ethnicity in the Sunbelt: Mexican Americans in Houston (College Station: Texas A&M University Press, 2001), 126-127. For an understanding of ethnic Mexicans’ appeals to whiteness see Foley, The White Scourge.

40 Orozco, No Mexicans, Women, or Dogs Allowed.

41 Guadalupe San Miguel, Brown Not White: School Integration and the Chicano Movement in Houston (College Station: Texas A&M University Press, 2005), Kindle Edition, location 530.

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were racialized as ‘Mexicans.’”42 Accordingly, LULAC’s constitution discussed the values of biculturalism, but emphasized U.S. citizenship. Orozco asserts that the constitution

“represented the primacy of Mexican Americans” and “a concern for individual rights and equal opportunities.”43 For LULAC, the courts were the battlefields for altering the second- class status of Mexican Americans. According to historian Guadalupe San Miguel, the organization’s litigation strategy rested on “a treatment of Mexican Americans as part of the

Caucasian or white race in order to achieve social equality.”44

A testament to the limited tactics ethnic Mexicans could deploy in the violent and segregated South after the Mexican Revolution era, LULAC had staying power as the principal Mexican American civil rights organization in Texas. Their integration strategy, however, fell short in meeting the needs of the ethnic Mexican masses whose skin tone, gender, lack of wealth, and immigration status barred them access to the privileges of whiteness and the “fruits of

Americanization.” The persistence of Juan Crow and Jim Crow in Texas sparked a rejection of accommodation and an embrace of bold tactics in the hypermasculine Black and Brown

Power era of the 1960s and 1970s. That is, Tejanas/os repackaged the more confrontational and assertive approaches of El Plan de San Diego and El Congreso Mexicanista in their fight for ethnic self-determination.

Late-Twentieth Century Confrontational Dignity and Manhood in Power Movements

42 Orozco, No Mexicans, Women, or Dogs Allowed, Kindle Edition, location 1354.

43 Orozco, No Mexicans, Women, or Dogs Allowed, Kindle Edition, location 2129.

44 San Miguel, Brown Not White, Kindle Edition, location 530.

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The pursuit of ethnic power in the protest era offered African Americans and

Tejanas/os an opportunity to claim dignity amid dejure and defacto segregation. Corporeal performances of race and gender were central to ethnic social movements of the 1960s and

1970s. Black Panther Party (BPP) members occupied public spaces and expressed claims to dignity through guerilla posturing—black berets, leather jackets, military formations, and an incendiary language. Confrontational claims to dignity, embodied in the Black Power

Movement, fueled a male-defined pursuit of freedom. This masculine liberation informed

MAYO’s self-determination projects.

In order to understand Tejano confrontational dignity in the movimiento, it is important to trace the Black Power Movement and how it shaped the masculine expressions of MAYO activists. Manhood was inextricably linked to confrontational dignity in the 1960s and 1970s. Historian Steve Estes contends that the BPP “made bold and explicit claims to manhood as the basis for its struggles against racial and economic oppression.”45 That is, the core message in the early years of the BPP was their “call for black males to stand up and ‘be men,’ to stand up and be revolutionaries.”46 For Estes, a masculine liberation ideology was critical to the growth of the BPP and proved that African American male youth could assert power.47 Such male-based militancy reflected the structural influence of white male supremacy.48 In a patriarchal society where Anglo males embodied power and control, Black

45 Steve Estes, I Am a Man!: Race, Manhood, and the Civil Rights Movement (Chapel Hill: The University of North Carolina Press, 2005), Kindle Edition, location 2168-2174.

46 Estes, I am a Man!, Kindle Edition, location 2170.

47 Estes, I Am a Man!, Kindle Edition, location 2184.

48 For more information on white male supremacy and masculinity, see Craig Thomson Friend, Southern Masculinity: Perspectives on Manhood in the South since Reconstruction (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 2009); Michael Kimmel, Manhood in America: A Cultural History (New York: Oxford 38

and Brown men sought self-determination through male leadership and hyper-masculine actions. As sociologist Maxine Baca Zinn notes, “manhood takes on greater importance for those who do not have access to socially valued roles,” as being “male is one sure way to acquire status when other roles are systematically denied by the workings of society.”49 For

Black and Brown men witnessing limited opportunities and racial oppression in the 1960s and 1970s, confrontational dignity served as a critical means of asserting influence and claiming a sense of worth.

The year 1966 marked a flashpoint in the African American freedom movement. That year, Stokely Carmichael was arrested for the twenty-seventh time for his activism in the

Student Non-Violent Coordinating Committee (SNCC), where he labored to dismantle interstate segregation and to enfranchise African Americans in the Jim Crow South. By this time, the civil rights mantra “Freedom Now” was starting to ring hollow for young African

Americans, like Carmichael, whose non-violent protest was met with systematic violent attacks, including arson, beatings, and false arrests. Following his arrest, Carmichael popularized the slogan “Black Power” among radical youth by stating, “I ain’t going to jail no more. The only way we gonna stop them white men from whuppin’ us is to take over.

What we gonna start saying now is Black Power.”50

University Press, 2012); and Gail Bederman, Manliness & Civilization: A Cultural History of Gender and Race in the United States, 1880-1917 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1995).

49 Baca Zinn, “Chicano Men and Masculinity,” 39.

50 Peniel E. Joseph, ed., The Black Power Movement: Rethinking the Civil-Rights-Black Power Era (New York: Routledge, 2006), Kindle Edition, location 168-179. For more on Black Power, see Martha Biondi, The Black Revolution on Campus (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2012); Joshua Bloom and Waldo E. Martin, Jr., Black Against Empire: The History and Politics of the Black Panther Party (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2013); Elaine Brown, A Taste of Power: A Black Woman’s Story (Anchor: Anchor Books, 1993); Rodrick Bush, We Are Not What We Seem: Black Nationalism and Class Struggle in the American Century (New York: NYU Press, 2000); Bettye Collier-Thomas, Sisters in the Struggle: African American Women in the Civil Rights-Black Power Movement (New York: NYU Press, 2001); Jeffery Ogbar, Black Power: Radical Politics and African American Identity (Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press, 2005); 39

During the mid-1960s, violent attacks against civil rights workers pushed SNCC further towards Black Power and away from integrationist politics. For Carmichael, Black

Power would grant African Americans a solid economic and political base that could meaningfully challenge structural racism. Emerging in 1960, SNCC dedicated several years to the “slow, tedious, and patient voter registration drives in the most dangerous parts of the

South.”51 While grassroots organizing in Mississippi and Alabama, SNCC activists witnessed the terror of Jim Crow and the courageous acts of African American sharecroppers who put their lives on the line to achieve racial equality. Increasingly critical of the federal government’s and civil rights leaders’ inability to halt the senseless deaths of non-violent activists, SNCC embraced the philosophy of “Black Power and its broad political commitments, which included the internationalization of black protest, a rejection of nonviolence, and the embracing of self-defense; call for racial unity and the reclaiming of an autonomous black cultural heritage; and independent black politics.”52 Over time, SNCC gravitated toward Black-only membership.

African American Women in SNCC, who were not strangers to the repressive nature of the Jim Crow South, welcomed the shift to Black Power politics. Ruby Doris Smith

Robinson, executive secretary of SNCC, perceived Black Power as a critical means of establishing Black consciousness and pride.53 Echoing Smith Robinson’s sentiments, Gwen

Peniel E. Joseph, Waiting ‘Til The Midnight Hour: A Narrative History of Black Power in America (New York: Holt Paperbacks, 2006); and Assata Shakur, Assata: An Autobiography (Lawrence Hill Books, 2001).

51 Joseph, Waiting ‘Til The Midnight Hour, 123.

52 Stephen Ward, “The Third World Women’s Alliance: Black Feminist Radicalism and Black Power Politics,” in The Black Power Movement: Rethinking the Civil-Rights-Black Power Era, ed. Joseph Peniel (New York: Routledge, 2006), Kindle Edition, location 2285.

53 Cynthia Griggs Fleming, “Black Women and Black Power: The Case of Ruby Doris Smith Robinson and the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee,” in Sisters in the Struggle: African-American Women in 40

Patton believed that “the call for Black Power touched the depths of [her] soul.” She recognized that “Black Power demanded a strategy in which Black people would transform the powerless Black community into one that could exert its human potential to be an equal partner in the larger society.”54 For Patton, Black people were in the best position to effect change in their own communities.

Beyond SNCC, other organizations embraced Black Power politics in order to combat state-sanctioned violence and achieve Black liberation in 1966. In the wake of the assassination of Malcolm X and on the heels of the massive urban uprising in Watts,

California, Bobby Seale and Huey Newton formed the Black Panther Party (BPP) in

Oakland, California. The Panthers emerged on the modern civil rights stage as revolutionary socialists dedicated to eradicating police brutality through armed self-defense. The BPP championed Black Power by deploying confrontational stances and a potent militant rhetoric.

Wearing black boots, berets, and leather jackets, BPP initially captured the attention of

African Americans by patrolling the “streets of Oakland brandishing shotguns, holstered pistols, and law books.”55 This aggressive posture was accompanied by fiery speeches.

Encouraging a unified resistance struggle, Newton declared that Black people “must draw the line somewhere” in a racist society and “must rise up as one man to halt the progression of a

the Civil Rights-Black Power Movement, ed. Bettye Collier-Thomas and V.P. Franklin (New York: New York University, 2001), 205.

54 Gwen Patton, “Born Freedom Fighter,” in Hands on the Freedom Plow: Personal Accounts by Women in SNCC, ed. Faith S. Holsaert et al. (Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 2010), 581.

55 Joseph, Waiting ‘Til The Midnight Hour, 208.

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trend that leads to the inevitability to their total destruction.”56 Newton and other Panthers often emboldened members to take formidable stances in liberating their communities.

At the heart of Black Power politics was ethnic self-determination—generating grassroots activities that would foster African American community control. While mass media highlighted BPP’s encounters with the police, the organization’s revolutionary vision and urban programming were equally important in enlisting activists and garnering community support. In 1968, BPP launched a series of needs-based initiatives starting with the establishment of a free children’s breakfast program. In the succeeding years, BPP chapters throughout the nation implemented their own breakfast programs and instituted services tailored to local needs. For example, BPP activists in Houston ran a daily breakfast program, conducted sickle cell anemia testing, organized a bus to prison program for the relatives of incarcerated African Americans, and offered free pest control services. These staple programs “strengthened Black community support, burnished Party credibility in the eyes of allies, and vividly exposed the inadequacy of the federal government’s concurrent

War on Poverty.”57

Newton and Seale targeted working-class African American men to empower them to take control of their environments and challenge white male supremacy by physically and vocally exerting African American male authority. The leaders of BPP perceived the

“brothers on the block,” or the African American male underclass, as fertile ground for revolutionary Black nationalism. They envisioned the Black male underclass as being at the

56 “Quotations from Huey,” The Black Panther, February 17, 1969, 4.

57 Joshua Bloom and Waldo E. Martin, Jr. Black Against Empire: The History and Politics of the Black Panther Party (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2013) 12-13.

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forefront of ushering freedom. Newton and Seale recognized the power of the “brothers on the block” in the Watts Rebellion. In 1965, African American male youth expressed their frustrations with white male supremacy in the Watts, California. Witnessing urban blight, police repression, and ineffectiveness of integrationists tactics to fundamentally alter the structural conditions of the ghetto, African Americans in Watts responded by brandishing weapons and setting ablaze cars and stores.58 For Newton, the Watts rebellion demonstrated working-class African American men’s intimate knowledge of the “expanding urban police departments” and the revolutionary potential of armed self-defense, or “the language of the gun.”59 Through the BPP, the “brothers on the block,” would regain “[their] mind and [their] manhood.” Newton perceived the lack of respect for Black men stemming from the reality that they “didn’t have a mind, because the decision maker was outside of [themselves].”60 He further asserted that the young African American male was led to believe that “he [was] something less that a man, as [was] evident in his conversation: the white man is ‘THE

MAN,’ he gets everything and knows everything.”61 Black men could counter white male authority by exhibiting mental freedom and exerting their own authority as the revolutionary vanguard of the Black Power Movement.

While BPP had a fairly small membership in its initial years, by 1970 it grew exponentially to encompass offices in “sixty-eight cities from Winston-Salem to Omaha and

58 Bloom and Martin, Jr., Black Against Empire, 27-29. For an in depth analysis of how the Watts rebellion was a response to urban neglect and ethnic marginalization see Gerald Horne, Fire This Time: The Watts Uprising and the 1960s (Charlottesville: University of Virginia, 1995).

59 Bloom and Martin, Jr., Black Against Empire, 33-34.

60 “Huey Newton Talks to the Movement about the Black Panther Party, Cultural Nationalism, SNCC, Liberals, and the White Revolutionaries,” The Movement, August 1968.

61 Estes, I Am a Man! Kindle Edition, location 2178.

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Seattle.”62 This rapid growth had much to do with the way BPP’s fiery political messages and standoffs with the police bolstered African American manhood. Mesmerized by the confrontational dignity of BPP, Houstonian Carl Hampton set out on a path to meet BPP members in the Oakland Bay Area while traveling with a soul band in 1969. After attending political education classes at the BPP national headquarters, Hampton returned to Houston to establish a BPP chapter.63 Initially called the People’s Party II (PPII), the Houston BPP chapter offered a critical pathway to confrontational dignity and racial justice in an entrenched segregated environment. John “Bunchy” Crear, who was active in the BPP in both Los Angeles and Houston, remembered how racism operated in the South:

Houston was just like the majority of the South. It was overt racism. In California, you had covert racism, you know, where they smile in your face and stabbed you in the back . . . Here [in Houston], they let you know they did not like you and you better stay in your place. In the South, you did not have any major riots or things like that because . . . they let you know and they come down with force and whatever it took to keep you in your place.64

The virulent nature of anti-Black discrimination in Houston shaped acts of rebellion, limiting violent resistance to a handful of incidents that paled in comparison to the sheer scale of the Watts episode. Houston’s racially repressive climate was so pervasive that

African Americans learned to avoid certain sections of the city altogether. As former PPII and BPP member Claude Frost recalls:

Early on, [discrimination] was so common that I probably really didn’t think nothing about it…In 1969, [I started] going around to some of the restaurants in my adjacent

62 Bloom and Martin, Jr., Black Against Empire, 2.

63 Charles E. Jones, “Arm Yourself or Harm Yourself: People’s Party II and the Black Panther Party in Houston, Texas,” in On the Ground: The Black Panther Party in Communities across America, ed. Judson L. Jefferies (Jackson: University Press of Mississippi, 2010), 16.

64 John “Bunchy” Crear, interview by Samantha Rodriguez and Sandra I. Enríquez, video recording, June 6, 2016, Civil Rights in Black and Brown Oral History Project, Texas Christian University, Fort Worth, TX.

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area, like over there off of Clinton Drive. Then the people [told] you that they did not serve Blacks. I was a little older, like a teenager or something during that time, though. That was the first time I was aware of [discrimination] because before then, it probably was so common that I wouldn’t have approach[ed] an area like that. It was right down the street from me. It was common that you did not go over there.65

Everyday racial discrimination defined lives of African American Houstonians, who often attempted to shield their children from the indignities of segregation. The anti-Black environment of the South compelled Crear and Frost to claim their dignity and manhood through the Black Power Movement.

In addition to potent speeches and bearing arms, the BPP gained national attention through their militant writings. In 1967, the BPP created the Black Panther, an organizational newspaper that reported on local, national, and international struggles and outlined their political philosophy. The first issue of the Black Panther elevated the status of African

American males by depicting armed Black brothers as “the cream of Black manhood” that were there for “the protection and defense of [the] Black community.” The article maintained:

The Black community owes itself to the future of our people to get behind these brothers and—to let the world know that Black people are not stupid fools who are unable to recognize when someone is acting in the best interest of Black people…We must act to remove [white] fear. The only way to remove this fear is to stand up and look the white man in his blue eyes.66

A central goal of asserting African American manhood was contesting white male supremacy. As protectors and defenders of the African American community, Panther men could remedy the powerlessness of being subject to the white male power structure.

65 Claude Frost, interview by Samantha Rodriguez and Sandra I. Enríquez, video recording, June 11, 2016, Civil Rights in Black and Brown Oral History Project, Texas Christian University, Fort Worth, TX.

66 “Armed Black Brothers in Richmond Community,” The Black Panther, April 25, 1967, 3-4.

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Beyond calls to challenge white male authority, the BPP demonstrated its commitment to confrontational dignity through highly profiled encounters with the police.

On October 27, 1967, Oakland Police Department officer John Fey, a reputed racist, identified Newton’s vehicle and pulled him over. While there are conflicting accounts of what transpired next, Newton emerged from the encounter suffering a gunshot wound and being arrested and charged with killing a police officer.67 Framing the encounter as a Black man resisting the historical oppression of African Americans by the police state, the Black

Panther rallied members and potential male recruits by stating:

We are at that crossroads in history where black people are determined to bring down the final curtain on their drama of their struggle to free themselves from the boot of the white man that is on their collective neck. Huey Newton knew that the chief instrument of oppression of black people in America is the police departments of the cities…Every week, from every corner of America, we hear the reports of how some cop has shot and killed some black man, woman, or child…The only way that is [sic] can be from now on is that there will be no more reports of black people being massacred.”68

While the BPP acknowledged that all members of the African American community could fall victim to deadly police force, it placed the burden of armed self-defense on the shoulders of African American men. In Houston, the PPII men followed the national BPP example by defending their right to openly carry arms when encountering the police. This stance along with their community activities and political education initiatives made the PPII the target of law enforcement. During a 1971 shootout with Houston Police Department

(HPD), young African American males brandished weapons to defend the PPII headquarters and protect their leader, Carl Hampton. According to political scientist Charles E. Jones,

67 Bloom and Martin, Jr., Black Against Empire, 99-101.

68 Minister of Information Black Panther Party of Self Defense, “Huey Must Be Set Free,” The Black Panther, November 23, 1967, 3.

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many of the male members that participated in the PPII altercation with HPD had personally experienced police brutality and were willing to resist the racist actions of local police toward the African American community.69

The Panthers’ confrontational claims to dignity offered African American men a path to manhood as leaders in the community and heads of the family, shaping gender relations between Black men and women. This quest for African American manhood inadvertently reinforced white male patriarchy and fueled sexism within the organization. The focus on the

“brothers on the block” fostered a heteropatriarchal atmosphere that not only marginalized

African American women, but also exposed the limits to the party’s commitment to gender liberation. Kathleen Cleaver, a core member of BPP, remembers that if she suggested actions, they might be rejected, but “if they were suggested by a man, the suggestion would be implemented.” It became clear to Cleaver that women’s opinions had “lesser value” due to

“the egos of the men involved.”70 Echoing Cleaver’s understanding of BPP, Elaine Brown had reservations about becoming the chairperson of the party after Newton’s exile in 1974.

She wrestled with the knowledge that “if a black woman assumed the role of leadership, she was said to be eroding black manhood, to be hindering the progress of the black race.”71 The emphasis on confrontational dignity in BPP marginalized African American women’s contributions to the struggle and their leadership desires.

69 Jones, “Arm Yourself or Harm Yourself,” 21.

70 Kathleen Cleaver and Julia Herve, “Black Scholar Interviews: Kathleen Cleaver,” The Black Scholar 3:4 (1971): 56.

71 Elaine Brown, A Taste of Power: A Black Woman’s Story (New York: Anchor Books), 357.

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Tejanos in MAYO found inspiration and empowerment in BPP ideology and praxis.

They too felt that their manhood had been historically challenged, and that hypermasculinity was a critical way to reclaim it. Crafted in relation to the Black Power Movement, the Texas

Chicana/o Movement produced similar gender relations that stifled Tejana liberation. When

MAYO emerged in 1967, the male leadership claimed its own dignity and manhood through confrontational tactics. Indeed, MAYO leaders were convinced that the Black Power

Movement held answers to transforming their deplorable condition in the Juan Crow South.

Through direct action and fiery statements, MAYO generated a climate that similarly privileged Tejanos and relegated Tejanas to supportive roles.

The Texas Chicana/o Movement came to fruition against a legacy violence and racial discrimination. Despite LULAC’s integrationist strategy and legal claims to whiteness,

Tejanas/os in Austin, Houston, and San Antonio remained confined to ethnic enclaves with limited resources, second-rate schools, and menial jobs in the 1960s. The intentional stripping of social and political rights following the Texas Revolution and U.S.-Mexican War defined ethnic Mexican mobility in San Antonio for decades. Ethnic Mexican segregation in

Austin and Houston was cemented in the mid-twentieth century and similarly produced second-class citizenship. Geographer Eliot Tretter notes that private and public forms of zoning worked together to spatially segregate ethnic Mexicans in East Austin from the 1940s onward. Tretter contends that the “white” or “Caucasian only” social custom was used to exclude ethnic Mexicans from certain neighborhoods.72 In Houston, ethnic Mexicans experienced everyday forms of Juan Crow as they were barred from movie houses,

72 Eliot M. Tretter, “Austin Restricted: Progressivism, Zoning, Private Racial Covenants, and the Making of a Segregated City.” Institute for Urban Policy Research & Analysis (2012): 7.

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restaurants, and parks.73 Informed by the Black Power Movement, MAYO adopted a radical strategy aimed at reversing the dehumanizing effects of anti-Mexican racism and state- sanctioned violence. For MAYO, it was the confrontation politics of the protest era and not the accommodation tactics of LULAC that would ultimately alter the impoverished conditions of the barrios.

While MAYO male activists did not regularly brandish weapons or march in military formations, they took cues from the BPP by engaging in confrontational dignity in order to reclaim their manhood.74 In San Antonio and Austin, it was the Brown Berets who acutely mirrored the BPP, crafting a similar ten-point platform, donning fatigues, and carrying arms.

However, as the premier Texas movimiento organization with multiple chapters throughout the state, MAYO was the central vehicle for Tejanos to express masculine liberation. Tejano activists in MAYO regularly described white male supremacy as the gringo oppressor. In the organizational documents, MAYO argued that Tejanas/os should “spend less time fighting other Mexicanos who are weak before the gringo, and to spend more time building a Raza

Unida to combat the gringo and his methods.”75 When asked about the role of MAYO at a

73 De León, Ethnicity in the Sunbelt and Thomas H. Kreneck, Del Pueblo.

74 Narrow understandings of the Black Panther Party’s influence does an injustice to the ways the Black Power Movement captured the hearts and minds of non-white youth staking their own claims to self- determination through bold discourses and hypermasculine posturing. MAYO did not carry arms en masse or wear military attire like the Brown Berets. Nonetheless, their adoption of the Black Power’s notion of confrontational dignity not only shaped their actions, but more importantly, informed the gender relations of the organization. Accordingly, Tejanas cultivated feminisms due to their experiences in MAYO. Navarro, Mexican American Youth Organization; David Montejano, Quixote’s Soldiers: A Local History of the Chicano Movement, 1966-1981 (Austin, University of Texas Press, 2010); and David Montejano, Sancho’s Journal: Exploring the Political Edge with the Brown Berets (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2012).

75 Mexican American Youth Organization, 1968, Box 53, Folder 1, José Angel Gutiérrez Papers, 1954- 1990, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries. According to MAYO’s founding documents, there was a distinction between Anglos who worked with Chicana/os in their pursuit for self-determination and gringos who were racist and sought to assert control over La Raza (the people).

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protest in Del Rio in 1969, Jose Angel Gutiérrez yelled, “We’ve been oppressed for too long and we will tangle with the ‘gringo’ [sic] anywhere he wants to.”76 Wrestling power away from white men through aggressive discourses allowed Tejano male youth to prove that they were not passive or easily manipulated. This is evident in the masculinist way MAYO articulated the Tejano plight:

The Gringo took your grandfather’s land, he took your father’s job, and now he’s sucking at your soul. There is no such thing as ‘mala suerte’ [bad luck]; there are only ‘malos gringos.’ He’s keeping us in slavery now through our jobs and through the lousy education you’re getting at school, through everything that affects us.77

Buttressing aggressive discourses, Tejanos physically asserted power through confrontational direct action tactics gleaned from the Black Power Movement, including walkouts, marches, and sit-ins. According to MAYO founder Mario Compean, they “needed an approach similar to what the Black Movement was using. . . .demonstrating, marching in the streets.” 78 With their feet on the ground and their fists in the air, Tejanos in MAYO demanded the right to control their own destiny as men.

Claiming manhood resonated with Tejano men whose dignity had been denied in the

Juan Crow South and who were subject to state-sanctioned violence in the 1960s and 1970s.

As discussed previously, Anglo political and economic domination of ethnic Mexicans during the late 1800s bred a legacy of structural violence that targeted men. Critical race and ethnic studies scholar John D. Márquez points out that the racialization of ethnic bodies fostered expendability, a devaluation of life, and perpetual acts of injustice and

76 “‘Brown Power’ Goals Posted,” Corpus Christi Caller, March 31, 1969.

77 Montejano, Anglos and Mexicans in the Making of Texas, Kindle Edition, location 4633.

78 Navarro, Mexican American Youth Organization, Kindle Edition, location 1949.

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exploitation.79 That is, Tejano men’s lives were not valued and they witnessed persistent marginalization because of their ethnic origin. In the 1960s, Tejanos faced bloody encounters with the Texas Rangers in similar ways as their predecessors in the previous generations.

While participating in the United Farm Workers (UFW) struggle for better wages and collective bargaining, Tejano youth witnessed Texas Rangers shove and violently abuse picketers as they arrested them en masse. Emboldened by the Black Power Movement,

Tejanos in MAYO aimed to confront the Texas Rangers for their role as the law enforcement arm of white male supremacy in the South. Refusing to swallow the humiliation meted out by

Los Rinches (The Rangers) and claiming dignity, Tejanos displayed bold acts of resistance.

Lupe Casares came-of-age understanding the Texas Rangers to be “the Ku Klux Klan symbol for Mexicans” in the 1930s, as they terrorized communities by hanging “two or three

Mexicans” to assert their power.80 In the 1960s, Casares and fellow male activists in MAYO let the Texas Rangers know that ethnic Mexicans were no longer afraid of their reprisal.

Casares recalls MAYO “marching right in front of [The Rangers] and laughing in their faces,” thinking “what are you going to do?” For Casares, the notoriety of Los Riches de

Tejas greatly diminished during the protest era because Tejanos made it clear that if they

79 John D. Marquez, Black and Brown Solidarity: Racial Politics in the New Gulf South (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2013. For more information how the racialization of ethnic Mexican bodies as a control mechanism see De León, They Called Them Greasers; John Mckiernan-Gonzalez, Fevered Measures: Public Health and Race at the Texas-Mexican Border, 1848-1942 (Durham: Duke University Press, 2012); Martha Menchaca, Recovering History, Constructing Race: The Indian, Black, and White Roots of Mexican Americans (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2002); Natalia Molina, Fit to be Citizens?: Public Health and Race in Los Angeles, 1879-1939 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2006); and Pablo Mitchell, Coyote Nation: Sexuality, Race, and Conquest in Mexico, 1880-1920 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2005).

80 Lupe Casares, interview by Samantha Rodriguez and Sandra I. Enríquez, video recording, July 7, 2016, Civil Rights in Black and Brown Oral History Project, Texas Christian University, Fort Worth, TX.

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were jailed, they “would have a march in their city.” 81 Compean concurs that MAYO openly confronted the Texas Rangers. On one occasion, MAYO called Texas Rangers Captain

Alfred Young Allee “every name in the book [they] could think of in Spanish” in order to rile him and expose him as a racist in front of the U.S. Commission on Civil Rights.82 Like their

Black Power counterparts, MAYO pursued confrontational dignity as a means of showing law enforcement agencies that they were no longer going to be intimidated into submission and staying in their place.

In addition to the Texas Rangers, Tejanos also combated local police agencies that dehumanized them and perceived them as expendable. A flagrant display of excessive force that enraged the Tejana/o community was the case of Jose Campos Torres. On May 6, 1977,

Houston Police Department (HPD) responded to a reported altercation at a neighborhood bar in the predominately ethnic Mexican Second Ward. Shortly after arriving, police officers wrestled Vietnam veteran Campos Torres “to the ground, handcuffed him, and dragged [him] to the backseat of the patrol car.”83 Five police officers then proceeded to beat and subdue

Campos Torres to the point that the city jail refused to book him and ordered that Campos

Torres be taken to the emergency room at Ben Taub Hospital. Two days later, the dead body of Campos Torres was found floating in Buffalo Bayou. Illustrating the racialization and

81 Casares, interview.

82 Mario Compean, interview by Steve Arionus and Vinicio Sinta, video recording, June 20, 2016, Civil Rights in Black and Brown Oral History Project, Texas Christian University, Fort Worth, TX.

83 Tom Curtis, “Support Your Local Houston Police Department (Or Else),” Texas Monthly (September 1977), 85.

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othering of Tejano male bodies, HPD officer Terry Denson stated that he wanted to “see if the wetback [could] swim” prior to pushing Campos Torres into the bayou.84

The Jose Campos Torres incident compelled Tejanos to confront local law enforcement as they perceived it to be an obvious case of brutality that harkened back to the violent suppression of ethnic Mexicans in the late nineteenth century. After the body of Jose

Campos Torres was recovered from the murky waters of the Buffalo Bayou on Mother’s Day in 1977, Tejanos marched, rallied, and picketed to hold HPD accountable for their callous treatment of Campos Torres. They were particularly outraged by the light verdicts handed down against the offending officers and the sanctioning of police brutality. In October, 1977, an all-Anglo jury found Denson and Stephen Orlando guilty of negligent homicide, a misdemeanor carrying a sentence of one year probation and a suspended fine of two thousand dollars.85 Declared as a miscarriage of justice, Tejanos forged alliances with African

Americans and pressured the Justice Department to file federal charges on the grounds that

Campos Torres was denied his civil rights.86 This second case did little to relieve the community’s growing anger, as Denson, Orlando, and Joseph Janish received a ten year suspended sentence for the federal charge and a year in jail for the misdemeanor charge of beating Campos Torres. Two months following the federal verdict and exactly a year after

Campos Torres’ body was thrown in Buffalo Bayou, a protest broke out at a Cinco de Mayo celebration at Moody Park in Houston. HPD descended shortly after nightfall to break up a reported fight and were met with bottles and rocks. Tejano tensions with law enforcement

84 Tom Curtis, “Support Your Local Houston Police Department (Or Else),” 87.

85 “End of the Rope: Seeking Justice in Houston,” Time (April 1978), 22.

86 Dwight D. Watson, Race and the Houston Police Department, 1930-1990: A Change Did Come (College Station: Texas A&M University Press, 2005), 122.

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were high and the arrival of HPD spurred a rebellion. The confrontation continued into the early morning with fifteen people injured and approximately 40 arrested.87

After the rebellion, Tejanos participated in the Moody Park Barrio Defense Coalition

(MPBDC) to stand up for those arrested and to fight against ethnic discrimination.

Highlighting the legacy of inhumane treatment towards Tejano bodies, the MPBDC declared that “Chicano people have experienced and suffered oppression from police over 150 years” and that “the actions of the Chicano people at Moody Park were a response to their history of oppression.”88 The coalition further linked Brown and Black male oppression, asserting that

HPD was “guilty of brutal acts which have resulted in the deaths of [Campos] Torres,

Webster, Jovies, Glover, and Johnson.”89 MPBDC demanded that “the city council instruct the police department to withdraw the massive police force assigned to instigated trouble and intimidate [Chicanos] and other communities.”90 Just as in the case of the Texas Rangers,

Tejanos expressed their confrontational dignity through direct actions.

State-sanctioned violence and racial marginalization spurred masculine liberation in

Black and Brown Power movements. Tejano activists in MAYO deployed the confrontational politics of SNCC and BPP in order to claim their manhood and demonstrate their refusal to be dehumanized. While ethnic Mexicans did not occupy the same “colored” status as African Americans, they were nonetheless subject to segregation, state-sanctioned

87 Raul Reyes, “Moody Park Festival Flares into Riot,” Houston Chronicle (May 1978).

88 Moody Park Barrio Defense Coalition Demands, Box 2, Moody Park Riot Papers, Houston Metropolitan Research Center, Houston Public Library.

89 Moody Park Barrio Defense Coalition Demands, Box 2, Houston Metropolitan Research Center.

90 Ibid.

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violence, and disenfranchisement. To be sure, Chicanos throughout the nation experienced varying forms of marginalization that compelled them to engage in the protest era and contribute to the broader Chicana/o Movement. However, the entrenched racism of the Juan

Crow and Jim Crow South made Tejano liberation and confrontational dignity all that more meaningful. While militant stances and incendiary language empowered Tejanos, this hyper- masculinity stifled Tejanas’ dignity and liberation. Manhood was central to the struggle for ethnic self-determination in the South and consequently, Tejanas experienced sexism and the denial of women’s rights.

Tejana Dignity Denied and Feminist Formations

Tejano and Black Power Movement confrontational claims to manhood bolstered traditional notions of ethnic Mexican gender relations in the movimiento and stifled Tejanas’ own claims to gender dignity and liberation. Chicanismo, a Chicana/o cultural nationalist ideology aimed at facilitating ethnic self-determination, defined the core of Chicana/o

Movement ideology.91 A principal tenet of Chicana/o cultural nationalism was the imagined traditional ethnic Mexican family. La familia (the Chicana/o family) functioned as an oppositional culture to white male supremacy. Sociologist Alma Garcia notes that

Chicanismo demanded that Chicana activists to be strong, selfless, hardworking mujeres that kept the Chicana/o culture and family intact. She further asserts that “cultural nationalism represented a major ideological component of the Chicana/o Movement” and in particular,

91 For more information on Chicanismo, see Ignacio Garcia, Chicanismo: The Forging of a Militant Ethos among Mexican Americans (Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1997); Carlos Muñoz, Jr., Youth, Identity, Power: The Chicano Movement (New York: Verso, 1989); Navarro, Mexican American Youth Organization; and Arturo Rosales and Francisco A. Rosales, Chicano! The History of the Mexican American Civil Rights Movement (Houston: Arte Publico Press, 1997).

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“cultural survival [of the family] within an Anglo-dominated society gave [Chicana/os] significant political direction.”92 Ethnic studies scholar Richard T. Rodriguez contends that

Chicano men promoted hetero-patriarchal nationalism as potent means of organizing the community and family.93 In the context of Tejano confrontational dignity, notions of la familia further reified the dominant Anglo male patriarchy. That is, Tejano displays of hyper- masculinity in MAYO strengthened the idea that Tejanas should concentrate on maintaining the hetero-patriarchal family, even if it meant their own marginalization. Tejanas in MAYO were sympathetic to the indignities of anti-Mexican male brutality as they witnessed the racial landscape of the South. Historian Evelyn Higginbotham notes that the social construction of gender and class is colored by institutional racism.94 Indeed, Tejana community activism reflected their awareness of the racial underpinnings of oppression and anti-Mexican violence. While Tejanas defended the dignity of Tejanos, they were ultimately unwilling to be confined to prescribed gender roles or deny their own claims to dignity while pursuing ethnic self-determination. Tejanas responded to the sexism in MAYO by cultivating homegrown community feminisms.

Tejanas—like Maria Jiménez, whose personal recollections opened this chapter— were intimately aware of anti-Mexican racism through familial and personal experiences.

Similarly, Irma Mireles’ father told her at a young age that “when he was growing up in

Seguin, he remembers coming up the sidewalk [with] his dad and they would have to get off

92 Alma M. Garcia, “The Development of a Chicana Feminist Discourse,” Gender and Society 3.2 (1989): 222.

93 Richard T. Rodriguez, Next of Kin: The Family in Chicano/a Cultural Politics (Durham: Duke University Press, 2009).

94 Evelyn Higginbotham, “African-American Women’s History and Metalanguage of Race,” Signs 17:2 (1992): 251-255.

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the sidewalk when a white person would come from the other direction.” She did not immediately understand these everyday displays of deference. Her father further explained that “living on [the Mexican] side of Seguin” and that “you hardly ever went to the side where the Whites where,” avoiding it all costs because “there were all sorts of problems that could happen there.” 95 Through her father, Mireles understood the precarious state of ethnic

Mexicans in Texas. Mireles was also shaped by her family’s experience with land dispossession. When her mother was about three years old, “her family had a ranch and her

[grandmother] got real sick.” Desperate to secure medical care for her grandmother, Mireles’ grandfather “asked the neighbor who was Anglo…for money” and the neighbor “agreed to lend [her] grandfather the money, but he asked him to sign a paper.” Her grandfather was illiterate and “all he put was an X.”96 In the middle of the night, Mireles’ family had to get out of the house. Her grandfather “had actually signed away his ranch” located in the San

Marcos area. Mireles was astounded by the way her grandfather’s land was taken away “by an X” and by her relatives having to “take whatever they could grab.” As an adult in San

Antonio, Mireles personally encountered segregation and racial discrimination. She rarely traveled to the Northside where white people were concentrated, as there were unspoken boundaries in the city. Mireles recalls that “there were certain stores that you wouldn’t go to.” If she went to Woolworths or S.H. Kress, the white sales clerks “would walk behind

[her] as if to say [she was] going to steal something.”97 Like the generation before her,

Mireles learned to stay in her own community to avoid anti-Mexican racism. Tejanas in

95 Irma Mireles, interview by author, audio recording, October 16, 2014, San Antonio, TX.

96 Mireles, interview.

97 Ibid.

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Austin also witnessed the workings of Juan Crow. As a student at the University of Texas,

Linda Del Toro remembers that it was “heavily segregated and what you [were] as a Mexican wasn’t really appreciated or valued.” She imagined that there had been “no dogs, no

Mexicans, no Blacks allowed” signs in the area based on the way ethnic Mexicans were treated.98 That is, despite the lack of formal signs, ethnic Mexicans still experienced racial discrimination. Louise Villejo recalls that, in Houston, “you were always the little Mexican girl until you were fifty.”99

Witnessing the racial infantilization of ethnic Mexicans, Tejanas carefully maneuvered the South. Coming-of-age in the Juan Crow and Jim Crow South, Tejanas were not only radicalized by their own experiences, but also understood the racial and gendered plight of the men of their families and communities. Armed with the knowledge of anti-

Mexican racism, mujeres fought for racial liberation and defended Tejanos bodies. For example, Tejanas participated in the Houston Chicana/o Moratorium of 1970 to protest disproportionate death of ethnic Mexican men in the Vietnam War. Their activism not only aimed to challenge the Anglo power structure, but also address the ways their brothers were targeted. Gloria Guardiola and Yolanda Garza Birdwell of barrio MAYO passed out posters during the Houston Chicana/o Moratorium that stated ¡Queremos Hijos---No Heroes! (We want sons—not heroes!) underneath the stark, imposing image of a mother holding her dead son. Marching to Hidalgo Park, Guardiola and Garza Birdwell distributed another poster that featured a mother praying over her son’s coffin while her other two children cried next to and across from her. It called for the community to “rally in support of our Chicano brothers to

98 Linda Del Toro, interview by author, audio recording, June 27, 2014, Houston, TX.

99 Louise Villejo, interview by author, audio recording, January 9, 2015, Houston, TX.

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bring them home now” arguing “over 8,000 brothers of La Raza have fallen in Indochina.

¡Ya Basta (Enough)! We must protest the squandering of our people’s lives! Our struggle for justice is at home.”100 For Garza Birdwell, the Houston Chicana/o Moratorium, which occurred in coordination with the National Chicano Moratorium Committee, provided a space for Tejanas to defend their brothers and sons through anti-war expressions. Indeed,

Tejanas marched in the streets with crosses bearing the names of Tejanos killed in combat.

Beyond the Chicana/o Moratorium, Tejanas also railed against the general expendability of Brown men’s bodies at the 1973 Mujeres Por La Raza (MPLR) statewide conference. As an organization, MPLR drafted a resolution condemning the “Texas Rangers

[as] a symbol of the most insensitive and oppressive pacification force ever used against a minority group in the U.S.”101 This resolution highlighted how Tejanas/os “maintain memories of relatives brutally and unjustly murdered by Ranger forces” and called attention to the “sites of mass massacres of ‘Chicano bandits and sympathizers’ that are still pointed out to visitors in South Texas.”102 Underscoring the link between past and present state- sanctioned attacks upon Brown men’s bodies, Tejanas declared that “brutalities committed by the police against all minority children and adults can be traced to the acclaim and prestige the Texas Rangers receive despite their known attitudes against Mexicans whom

100 Chicano Moratorium Poster, Box 1, Folder 8, Gregorio Salazar Papers, MAYO Pamphlets and Leaflets, Houston Metropolitan Research Center, Houston Public Library.

101 Resolution Passed by the State-wide Conference of Raza Unida Women, August 4, 1973, Box 8, Folder 11, Raza Unida Party Records, Principles, Resolutions, Texas State RUP Conference, RUP Women, 1973, 1975, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries.

102 Resolution Passed by the State-wide Conference of Raza Unida Women, Raza Unida Party Records, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries.

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they have brutalized in the name of law and order over the past 150 years.”103 Tejanas forcefully fought against the entrenched racial brutality directed at Tejano men. Their own experiences with stark racism shaped their commitment to collective ethnic liberation and to seeking justice for anti-Mexican male violence.

While Tejanas refused to accept anti-Mexican male brutality, the hyper-masculine imagined familia in the movimiento, grounded in the confrontational dignity of the Black

Power Movement, left little room for integrating Tejanas into the decision-making process or nourishing Tejana leadership. As Rodriguez points out, the Chicana/o manifesto, El Plan

Espiritual de Aztlán (The Spiritual Plan of Aztlán), calls “for the categories la familia and la raza to complement and service one another.”104 That is, sustaining the heteropatriarchal

Chicana/o family was paramount to fostering freedom for La Raza. Baca Zinn asserts that familial patterns were central to resisting institutional white supremacy in the 1960s and

1970s, particularly "the preservation and maintenance of family loyalty.”105 She further notes that “adherence to strong family ties and to a pattern of familial organization with distinct sex role differentiation…afforded protection, security and comfort in the face of the adversities of oppression.”106 Tejano confrontational dignity and pursuit of manhood fueled prescribed and supportive gender roles that were central to challenging white male supremacy. While

Tejanas defended their brothers’ dignity in anti-war demonstrations and when railing against police violence, they refused to be silent about their own gender dignity and desire to be in

103 Ibid.

104 Rodriguez, Next of Kin, 24.

105 Maxine Baca Zinn, “Political Familism: Toward Sex Role Equality in Chicano Families,” Aztlan 6:1 (1975): 15-16.

106 Baca Zinn, “Political Familism,” 19.

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leadership roles. For Tejanas, the liberation of La Raza meant freedom for all members of the

Tejana/o community.

In the protest era, Tejanas championed a struggle that was both anti-racist and anti- sexist. Villejo remembers MAYO men haranguing her for heading Tejana feminist initiatives. Tejanos made it clear that women “should not be out [in public] speaking their minds” and that her gender activism “wasn’t in the box that they wanted to see women in.”107

Like African American women in the Black Power Movement, Villejo’s experiences in

MAYO confirmed that Tejano assertions of power could have negative consequences, including the belief “that women shouldn’t have a voice” and that “men should be in control.”108 Villejo did not conform to the gender expectations of her movement brothers, but rather raised women’s issues in order to achieve gender liberation alongside racial liberation.

Like Villejo, Tejanas responded to their second-class treatment in the MAYO by forging their own sense of gender dignity and in the process, expanded notions of la familia.

In Austin, Houston, and San Antonio, Tejanas addressed gender oppression in widely circulated Chicana/o newspapers, pamphlets, and speeches. In 1970, Jiménez declared in

Papel Chicano that “Justicia para el Chicano’ means just that Justice for the Chicano and not the Chicana.”109 She argued that “in our urgency to ‘leventar la raza,’ we forget about one important segment of our people—the females.” 110 Working to foster Tejana empowerment,

Jiménez candidly critiqued the way Tejano assertion of manhood obscured Tejana self-

107 Villejo, interview.

108 Ibid.

109 Maria Jiménez, “Women Still Powerless,” Papel Chicano 1.4 (1971) 10.

110 Jiménez, “Women Still Powerless,”10.

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determination. Instead of adopting a confrontational dignity that reinforced the dominant white male patriarchy, Tejanas called for their Tejano brothers to see their sisters as having the “same rights as a man to participate in all social and political activities without being censured.”111 In short, Tejano dignity should not come at the expense of Tejana dignity.

Energized by the Black Power Movement, MAYO male activists participated in militant rhetoric and aggressive posturing as a means of resisting the indignities of Juan

Crow. Their confrontational pathway to racial liberation led Tejanos to act “in contradictory directions to the liberation of women.”112 For community feminist Evey Chapa, uncovering how the system divides groups along the lines of class, race, and gender was key to “the liberation of Chicanos and Chicanas” and destroying the perception that gender equality creates “a situation where [Tejanos] will have a new competitor—the woman” who “is a threat to his acquiring power, and by extension, to his identity.”113 Dedicated to ethnic self- determination and reversing the dehumanizing effects of Juan Crow, Tejana community feminists labored for a broad liberation that upheld the dignity of women and men.

Conclusion

Reflecting on her activism in the 1960s and the 1970s, Maria Jiménez stated “because

I was Mexican and Chicana, I fought for that first. I mean I had to fight for that because that

111 Gloria Guardiola and Yolanda Garza Birdwell, La Mujer: Destruccion de Mitos: Formación y Practica del Pensamento Libre [The Woman: Destruction of Myths: Formation and Practice of Fee Thinking] (Houston, TX, 1971); 30.

112 Evey Chapa and Armando Gutierrez, “Chicanas in Politics: An Overview and Case Study,” National Association of Chicana and Chicano Studies Annual Conference Proceedings (1975): 140.

113 Chapa and Gutierrez, “Chicanas in Politics,” 140.

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was my community. But, I’m also a woman, so I had to fight for that [as well].”114 Jiménez understood that, in the Juan Crow South, it was imperative to fight for anti-racism and anti- sexism simultaneously. In her activism in MAYO, she joined fellow Tejanas in expressing homegrown community feminisms that embraced a race dignity and notion of family that did not oppress mujeres.

Tejanas came-of-age in a racial climate that had developed over the course of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, and that marginalized Brown and Black communities.

The continued violence and segregation of the Mexican Revolution era spurred integrationist tactics promoted by groups such as LULAC that advocated for Americanization and appealed to whiteness. While these acommodationist tactics put Tejanas/os on the path towards civil rights, Tejana/o activists perceived such methods as ineffective in the 1960s and 1970s.

Instead of assimilation, Tejanas/os gravitated toward the direct action of the Black Power

Movement. The male leadership apparatus of MAYO was particularly invested in a confrontational message and posture that would facilitate liberation and claims to dignity.

Inspired by the struggle and tactics of the Black Power Movement, Tejanos embraced a form of confrontational dignity that would allow men to gain power amid racial, political, and economic oppression. Similar to their African American female counterparts, Tejanas fought for both ethnic and gender self-determination in Austin, San Antonio, and Houston. In particular, Tejanas cultivated a community feminism that merged anti-racism and anti-sexism and that advocated for Tejano dignity alongside Tejana dignity. In addressing racial and gender discrimination, Tejanas worked within and outside the movimiento to advance educational self-determination, to solidify their feminisms, to alter the political landscape,

114 Jiménez, interview.

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and to intervene in the Anglo Feminist Movement. While straddling a commitment to racial and gender liberation, Tejanas began to craft a grassroots sense of their feminist practices as nueva Tejanas involved in MAYO’s efforts to transform primary, secondary, and higher education.

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Chapter Two “La Nueva Tejana”: Forging Homegrown Community Feminisms through Grassroots Educational Activism

Hey, See that lady protesting against injustice, Es me Mama. That girl in the brown beret, the one teaching the children, She's my hermana Over there fasting with the migrants, Es mi tía… The lady with the forgiving eyes And the gentle smile, Listen to her shout. She knows what hardship is all about All About. The establishment calls her A radical militant… In Aztlán we call her La Nueva Chicana. Viola Correa, La Nueva Chicana1

In 1971, Mexican American Youth Organization (MAYO) activists Gloria

Guardiola and Yolanda Garza Birdwell interviewed ethnic Mexican women across generations in the near Northside of Houston, an ethnic enclave where they had centered their community work. Guardiola and Garza Birdwell captured Tejana perspectives regarding intra-ethnic gender discrimination and pathways to female liberation. Not every Tejana was receptive to the call to share their thoughts on being an ethnic Mexican woman in the segregated South. For Guardiola and Garza Birdwell, those that refused to be interviewed reaffirmed their belief that there were ethnic Mexican women who had become “too accustomed to having someone else make decisions for them.”2 The narratives of those who

1 Viola, Correa, La Nueva Chicanas, http://www.unm.edu/~larranag/chicana.html (accessed May 2, 2015).

2 Gloria Guardiola and Yolanda Garza Birdwell, La Mujer: Destruccion de Mitos: Formación y Practica del Pensamento Libre [The Woman: Destruction of Myths: Formation and Practice of Fee Thinking] (Houston, TX, 1971); 22.

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openly shared their perspectives became the basis for a bilingual booklet that tackled

“negative attitudes which [were] detrimental to progress” and promoted “the formation and practice of free expression” among Tejanas.3

Guardiola’s and Garza Birdwell’s La Mujer: Destruccion de Mitos: Formación y

Practica del Pensamento Libre (The Woman: Destruction of Myths: Formation and Practice of Free Thinking) celebrated the thoughts and actions of Chicanas. This woman fought alongside Chicanos “as a responsible and capable individual, not only in the role of a mother, sweetheart or lover, but also as a Revolutionary” committed to the liberation of La Raza and all oppressed peoples. Tejanas of the protest era represented a “new breed” of ethnic

Mexican women that actively railed against socio-economic oppression and worked towards collective male and female empowerment. 4 As nueva Tejanas (new Tejanas), Guardiola and

Garza Birdwell distinguished themselves from traditional women of the previous generation.

They perceived the traditional ethnic Mexican woman as lacking the tools for mental and physical freedom because:

She [dedicated] herself exclusively to her home, domestic chores, and church activities…The concept of the man, as held by these women, was as follows: head of the household, the one who rules the home and makes decisions on important issues. When asked, ‘Are men superior to women?’ the majority answered ‘NO’, in a low voice as if afraid to be heard. They added, ‘However, he has always been the ruler and the head of the household.’5

While Guardiola and Garza Birdwell heralded the nueva Tejana as the apex of female liberation, key to achieving this was through a radical re-education of men and women alike

3 Guardiola and Garza Birdwell, La Mujer: Destruccion de Mitos, iv.

4 Guardiola and Garza Birdwell, La Mujer, ii.

5 Guardiola and Garza Birdwell, La Mujer, 22.

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about ethnic Mexican women’s role in history. They looked to the past to see that her militant roots reached across time and borders to the female fighters of the Mexican and

Cuban Revolutions. Revolutionary ethnic Mexican and Cuban women “had the courage to accompany men to war” and “the courage to pick up the gun.” They were the unsung heroines of insurgency movements who Tejanas needed to tap into when facing intra-ethnic adversity and struggling towards self-determination.6 In the same vein as Viola Correra’s

Nueva Chicana poem, Guardiola and Garza Birdwell grounded Tejana community feminisms in the long transnational history of Raza women’s roles in social movements and fights for gender equality. By educating fellow Tejanas/os about this important history, they believed they could actualize total liberation for themselves and their communities.

Guardiola’s and Garza Birdwell’s articulations of the nueva Tejana represent the ways women in MAYO bridged anti-racism and anti-sexism while fighting against institutional and intra-ethnic oppression in the 1960s and 1970s. Mujeres played a critical role in MAYO’s efforts to tackle class and racial discrimination. Through their work in

MAYO, they developed their Tejana feminist sensibilities that merged gender rights with community activism. Nueva Tejanas’ participation in the educational campaigns of university centers, ethnic studies programs, and bilingual and bicultural instruction reflects their homegrown community feminist agenda. Tejana activists in Austin, Houston, and San

Antonio remained sensitive to the collective plight of the ethnic Mexican community. They

6 Guardiola and Garza Birdwell, La Mujer, 27. For more on insurgent feminism, see Maylei Blackwell, ¡Chicana Power! Contested Histories of Feminism in the Chicano Movement (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2011); Dionne Espinoza, “‘Revolutionary Sisters’: Women’s Solidarity and Collective Identification among Chicana Brown Berets in East Los Angeles, 1967-1970,” Aztlan: A Journal of Chicano Studies (Spring 2001): 15-58; and Emma Pérez, The Decolonial Imaginary: Writing Chicanas into History (Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 1999).

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were not only concerned with transforming male-dominated structures, but also had an equal investment in resisting race and class disparities.

This chapter traces the ways Tejanas in MAYO merged gender and race struggles while engaging in educational self-determination at the university and K-12 levels. By re- analyzing Tejana feminists’ educational activism in MAYO, this chapter challenges previous scholarship on this principal organization, which has privileged the male perspective.

Standard texts such as political scientist Armando Navarro’s Mexican American Youth

Organization: Avant Garde of the Chicano Movement in Texas places Texas on the Civil

Rights map, but his work privileges the thoughts and actions of the male leadership.7 Other community studies of the Texas Mexican American Civil Rights Movement only briefly address Tejana feminism while examining MAYO’s role in the advancement of citizenship rights and battle for belonging in the South.8 Since nueva Tejanas were central to MAYO’s campaigns, particularly the struggles for ethnic studies and the development of culturally sensitive curricula in primary and secondary education, a focus on their efforts uncovers how educational reform was a pathway to female leadership in race and gender liberation. Rather than silencing Tejana feminist formations by discussing them as an afterthought or obscuring the ways Tejana activism shaped the movimiento, this chapter re-centers mujeres and argues that activism in educational settings in MAYO provided a critical space for crafting Tejana feminisms. In addition to generating Chicano-centered curriculum grounded in grassroots

7 Armando Navarro, Mexican American Youth Organization: Avant-Garde of the Chicano Movement in Texas (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1995) Kindle edition.

8 Arnoldo De León, Ethnicity in the Sunbelt: Mexican Americans in Houston (College Station: Texas A&M University Press, 2001); Thomas H. Kreneck, Del Pueblo: A History of Houston’s Hispanic Community (College Station: Texas A&M University Press, 2012).

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racial battles at the University of Houston and the University of Texas at Austin, nueva

Tejanas expanded the frames of the Chicana/o Movement by incorporating Chicana Studies.

My approach builds on new scholarship that is beginning to paint a broader picture of the emergence of the Tejana feminist movement, particularly within MAYO. Historical sociologist David Montejano’s recent examination of MAYO in Quixote Soldiers: A Local

History of the Chicano Movement, 1966-1981 investigates shifting ethnic and gender identities and the growth of political power fueled by youth activism in the segregated barrios of San Antonio. Montejano argues that Tejanas grappled with the growing question of male dominance and “their position in the movement.”9 This chapter extends Montejano’s analysis of MAYO by chronicling the ways Tejanas tackled gender equity in educational settings, sometimes placing race at the forefront while at other times focusing on implementing gender frameworks in the classroom no matter the cultural and political costs. In this kaleidoscope of activism, nueva Tejanas balanced a commitment to race and gender liberation. Compared to their middle-class Anglo feminist counterparts, Tejanas opted to remain in social justice movements despite not always having their needs adequately incorporated in freedom projects. These new women championed a homegrown community feminism rooted in ethnic self-determination through their commitment to ethnic studies and culturally sensitive curricula. Tejanas refused to be mere vessels of mainstream feminist ideology. Accordingly, nueva Tejanas crafted their own gender rights sensibility grounded in the battle for self-determination in higher and secondary education.

9 David Montejano, Quixote Soldiers: A Local History of the Chicano Movement, 1966-1981 (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2010), 151.

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Education is Liberation: Ethnic Studies and the Transformation of Academia

A principal focus of MAYO in the 1960s was demanding and creating culturally- relevant academic centers and departments—institutions that not only embraced “La Raza values,” but also researched and documented “the history and culture of [ethnic Mexicans] and [their] contributions” to the United States.10 The mission of such centers and departments was also to direct energy towards solving community issues.11 Throughout the nation,

Chicana/o activists were mobilizing for quality schools. In 1969, Chicana/o students, faculty, and staff flocked to the University of California, Santa Barbara to attend a conference called by Chicana/o Coordinating Council on Higher Education, formed at the National Chicana/o

Youth Liberation meeting in Denver, Colorado two months prior. Over one hundred primarily Chicana/o student delegates, from twenty-nine campuses across the state of

California, labored for three days to develop a national plan of action that would facilitate the growth of a Chicana/o discipline. The fruit of this collective effort was El Plan de Santa

Barbara—a comprehensive blueprint for establishing Chicana/o representation at all levels in academia, sustaining student activism, generating recruitment and support programs, developing Chicana/o studies curricula, and initiating “community cultural and social action

10 “Introductions: Raza, Raza, Raza,” Box 2, Folder 4, MAYO and Crusade for Justice, Gregorio Salazar Papers, Houston Metropolitan Research Center.

11 For more on MAYO’s educational campaigns, see David Montejano, Quixote Soldiers; Carlos Muñoz, Jr., Youth, Identity, Power: The Chicano Movement (New York: Verso, 1989); Armando Navarro, Mexican American Youth Organization; and Marc Simon Rodriguez, Rethinking the Chicano Movement (New York: Routledge, 2015).

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centers.”12 An instrumental template for the ethnic studies movement, El Plan de Santa

Barbara guided MAYO’s educational self-determination across Texas.13

The national Chicana/o struggle for ethnic studies and student access coincided with the broad African American revolution on university campuses. In the mid-1960s, African

American students at both historically white universities and colleges (HWUC) and historically Black universities and colleges (HBCU) were subject to predominately white male professors and Eurocentric courses. Against the backdrop of the Black Power

Movement and urban uprisings, African American students disrupted Eurocentric fields of study in their quest for community and culturally-relevant courses. The African American student movement also transformed paternalistic environments by championing student of color access and faculty diversity.14 This national Black educational movement informed local battles at universities and campuses across Texas.15 As African Americans and

Chicanas/os pushed for student of color services and ethnic studies on various campuses, there were moments of shared inspiration and cross-racial collaboration. In this matrix, nueva

Tejanas played critical roles in diversifying academia and establishing new bodies of

12 Muñoz, Jr., Youth, Identity, Power, 137.

13 Carlos L. Cantú argues that Chicana/o educational self-determination has roots in middle-class legal fights for social and economic mobility in the early twentieth century. Deploying confrontational protest tactics and a provocative rhetoric, MAYO advanced the battle for educational self-determination in the 1960s and 1970s by merging cultural nationalism and the desire to control institutions in barrios throughout Texas. Carlos L. Cantú, “Self-determined Education and Community Activism: A Comparative History of Navajo, Chicano, and Puerto Rican Institutions of Higher Education in the Era of Protest” (PhD diss., University of Houston, 2016).

14 Martha Biondi, The Black Revolution on Campus (Berkley: University of California Press, 2012); Ibram X. Kendi, The Black Campus Movement: Black Students and the Racial Reconstruction of Higher Education, 1965-1972 (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2012).

15 For more on the African American student movement in Texas, see Amilcar Shabazz, Advancing Democracy: African Americans and the Struggle for Access and Equity in Higher Education in Texas (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2004).

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knowledge centered on social action. While bridging the university and the community,

MAYO female activists generated spaces for women’s issues within the educational self- determination campaigns.

Scholarship on Chicana activism in higher education has tended to focus on the

California experience, briefly examining gender liberation and largely casting feminists as separatists. Political scientist Carlos Muñoz posits that Chicanas countered Chicano hyper- masculinity in educational reform spaces by forging their own women organizations. While historian Michael Soldatenko devotes a chapter on the ways women nourished Chicana feminist scholarship and negotiated gender rights in the movimiento, he echoes Muñoz’s argument by resting on the loyalist versus feminist paradigm to describe Chicana feminist interventions.16 However, contrary to this interpretation, nueva Tejanas connected race and gender issues while disrupting the white patriarchal ivory tower.

Tejanas’ fight for educational self-determination at the university began not in the classroom, but in the fields, emerging from the United Farm Workers’ (UFW) campaign in

Texas in the 1960s and 1970s. As the Chicana/o Movement was materializing, labor, community, and educational activism became interwoven and remained as core battles.

Steering the UFW’s fight for collective bargaining, Dolores Huerta and Cesar Chávez brought their unionization efforts to South Texas. This labor fight sparked the formation of

MAYO chapters at universities and in communities. Maria Jiménez, Maria Elena Martínez,

Inés Hernández Tovar, and other Tejana feminists cut their teeth while advancing the

16 Rodolfo Acuña, The Making of Chicano Studies: In the Trenches of Academe (New Jersey: Rutgers University Press, 2011); Carlos Muñoz, Jr., Youth, Identity, Power: The Chicano Movement (New York: Verso, 1989); and Michael Soldatenko, Chicano Studies: The Genesis of a Discipline (Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 2009).

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farmworkers’ struggle for economic equality, and were motivated by their direct involvement in this movement. Tejana activists involved in farmworker rights witnessed the violent repression tactics of the Texas Rangers during the 1966 La Casita farms strike in Star

County. While conducting mass arrests, the Texas Rangers shoved, abused, and beat picketers.17 Provoking outrage across the state, the Rangers demonstrated their might by swinging shotgun butts at the heads and necks of two ethnic Mexican strikers, kicking them when they fell to the ground.18 These encounters with excessive police force spurred Tejana engagement in other direct action racial battles. At the same time that she championed the farmworkers’ cause, Martínez also rallied and marched to support ethnic Mexican women’s fight for better wages and conditions at the Economy Furniture Company in Austin.19

Tejanas were also captivated by the UFW’s deployment of ethnic Mexican symbols and mantras in their boycotts and marches, including Mexican flags, the black eagle on UFW’s red flag, the Virgin of Guadalupe, Si Se Puede (yes, we can do it), and Viva La Raza (long live the people). These cultural symbols and mantras along with campus talks by Cesar

Chávez and Dolores Huerta galvanized Tejana and Tejano students to organize UFW protests and cultivate the movimiento.20 Tejana/o participation in the UFW’s struggle fueled the push

17 Bill Bridges, “The Rangers and La Huelga,” The Texas Observer, June 9-23, 1967, 13.

18 Bridges, “The Rangers and La Huelga,” 14.

19 Maria Elena Martínez, interview by José Angel Gutiérrez, video recording, October 26, 1997, Tejano Voices, University of Texas—Arlington, Arlington, TX.

20 Navarro, Mexican American Youth Organization; Ignacio M. Garcia, Chicanismo: The Forging of a Militant Ethos among Mexican Americans (Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1997).

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for university coursework that would not only speak to ethnic Mexican cultural experiences, but also address labor campaigns and other battles for social justice.21

In addition to firsthand experiences in the fight for ethnic Mexican labor rights, Black agitation for African American Studies (AAS) informed the campaign for Mexican American

Studies (MAS) in Texas. In 1946, Texas Attorney General Grover Sellers proclaimed that

Heman Marion Sweatt would “never darken the door of the University of Texas” by being admitted into its law school.22 Sweatt’s successful legal battle against the University of Texas

(UT) not only signaled the burgeoning power of student unrest, but also spurred fights to desegregate athletics, on-campus housing, and off-campus facilities. In the late 1960s,

African American students were still grappling with hostile campus environments. The few

African Americans at UT and the University of Houston (UH) were “usually the only black in the class” and subject to “overt and covert acts of individual and institutional racism.”23

Black protest at these universities focused on the creation of ethnic studies curricula, African

American student access and retention, fair housing, and putting an end to discriminatory practices on-campus. This African American student movement built upon decades of

21 “A History of Chicano Scholarship and Chicano Studies,” Linda Fregoso Interview with José Limón, Onda Latina: The Mexican American Experience, aired October 2, 1980; Maria Jiménez, interview by author, audio recording, July 25, 2013, Oral History of Houston Project, University of Houston, Houston, TX.; and Maria Elena Martínez, interview by author, audio recording, June 18, 2014, Austin, TX.

22 Erna Smith, “Blacks Fought to Get into UT: Court Battles Paved the Way for Others” Austin Statesman, March 30, 1975. For more on the Heman Marion Sweatt case, see Gary Lavergne, Before Brown, Heman Marion Sweatt, Thurgood Marshall, and the Long Road to Justice (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2010) and Shabazz, Advancing Democracy.

23 Wanda Pryor, “Black Students Describe UT, Austin Statesman, May 30, 1975. Reproduction of the AABL Statement, Box 44, Folder 22, Student Power, 1966-1968, President’s Office Records, 1927-2015, Subject Files, Special Collections, University of Houston Libraries.

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struggle, advancing what historian Ibram X. Kendi describes as the “Long Black Student

Movement.”24

Emerging in the mid-1960s as anti-segregation organizations, Negros Associated for

Progress (NAP) and the Committee for Better Race Relations (COBRR), at UT and UH respectively, made the transition to the more militant Afro-Americans for Black Liberation

(AABL) as the Black Power Movement was gaining political traction across the nation.

Hearing Stokely Carmichael and Bobby Seale call for Black Power and decry “brainwashing education” at campus talks at UT and UH, ABBL protested racial violence and charged both universities with “imitating the racist society at large” and maintaining “White Anglo-Saxon

Protestant [institutions].”25 At UH, AABL resisted white supremacy in higher education by exerting “control over [their] physical, economic, social, spiritual, and physical aspects of

[their] lives” and being “prepared educationally to meet the needs of [their] community.”26

24 Ibram X. Kendi asserts that the Black Campus Movement of the 1960s and 1970s represented distinct ideological and protest tactics from the previous civil rights student struggle. For Kendi, the Long Black Student Movement, from 1919 to 1972, underscores the separate but interlocking battles towards university transformation. Ibram X. Kendi, The Black Campus Movement: Black Students and the Racial Reconstruction of Higher Education, 1965-1972 (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2012). For more on African American student activism during the Black Power Movement, see Martha Biondi, The Black Revolution on Campus (Berkley: University of California Press, 2012); Stefan M. Bradley, Harlem vs. Columbia University: Black Student Power in the Late 1960s (Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 2009); Fabio Rojas, From Black Power to Black Studies: How a Radical Social Movement Became an Academic Discipline (Baltimore, Johns Hopkins University Press, 2007); Jeffery A. Turner, Sitting In and Speaking Out: Student Movements in the American South, 1960-1970 (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 2010); and Joy Ann Williamson, Black Power on Campus: The University of Illinois, 1965-1970 (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2003).

25 Beverly Burr, “History of Student Activism at the University of Texas at Austin, 1960-1988,” Paper, Spring 1988, University of Texas, 29 (www.campusactivism.org/server-new/uploads/burrthesis.pdfI). Henry Holcomb, “Panther Leader Urges Revolution,” Houston Post, May 9, 1969. Erna Smith, “Black Activism Surfaces in ‘60s,” Austin Statesman, March 30, 1975. “Reproduction of the AABL Statement,” Introduction, Box 44, Folder 22, Student Power, 1966-1968, President’s Office Records, 1927-2015, Subject Files, Special Collections, University of Houston Libraries.

26 “Reproduction of the AABL Statement,” Introduction.

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This quest for self-determination fueled the campaign for AAS—AABL conducted sit-ins in the president’s office, informational sessions, press conferences, marches, and rallies at UH.

Tejanas/os not only supported African American students’ push for AAS, but also gleaned useful tactics. In 1969, MAYO participated in AABL’s march to UH President

Philip G. Hoffman’s office where they submitted ten demands centered on the empowerment of African American students.27 Beyond the chief demand for AAS, the treatise called for

African American administrative and faculty representation, an increase in student recruitment and retention efforts, adequate housing, the creation of a Black Student Union, credit hours for community work in the ghetto, and a “committee to alleviate the racist practices in instruction and grading.”28 In its similar 11-point demand, UT ABBL, stated that

AAS should “reflect to a maximum extent the influence and opinions of the [Black] community.”29 When UH MAYO delivered its own ethnic studies proposal, it reflected UH

AABL’s demands, urging for Mexican American faculty hiring and student resources.30 At

UT and UH—two of the first institutions to have MAS centers in Texas—Black and Brown activists collaborated to accelerate ethnic studies and student rights initiatives. In Austin,

27 Robinson Block, “Afro-Americans for Black Liberation and the Fight for Civil Rights at the University of Houston,”Houston History Magazine 8.1 (2011): 25. Rick Campbell, “Queen Lynn, From Glory to Tragedy,” Houston Chronicle, December 22, 2008.

28 “Reproduction of the AABL Statement,” List of Demands, Box 44, Folder 22, Student Power, 1966- 1968, President’s Office Records, 1927-2015, Subject Files, Special Collections, University of Houston Libraries.

29 “AABL Demands, The Rag, March 1, 1969, 1.12, 4.

30 Tatcho Mindiola, interview by David Goldstein, video recording, June 4, 2008, Houston Oral History Project, Houston Public Library Digital Archives, Houston, TX. LOMAS Statement, Box 44, Folder 30, Student Organizations, 1969-1970, President’s Office Records, 1927-2015, Subject Files, Special Collections, University of Houston Libraries. The League of Mexican-American Students (LOMAS) represented ethnic Mexican civil rights social and political organizing at UH. Like the Committee on Better Race Relations, LOMAS became radicalized towards the late 1960s and transitioned to the Mexican American Youth Organization.

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Tejana/o and African American students forged the coalition United Students Against

Racism at Texas (USART). Chanting Black, Brown and Red student power, USART occupied the university president’s office in 1975 to demand the elimination of standardized testing, more funding for students of color, the hiring of Black and Chicana/o deans of students, and the “promotion to department status of the Afro-American Studies Center and the Mexican-American Studies Center.”31 Tejana community feminist Cynthia Perez was a central figure in both UT MAYO and USART—she not only put her body on the line for ethnic studies by participating in the occupation of the president’s office, but also collaborated with fellow Tejana/o activists to write newspaper articles promoting racial equality at UT. These cross-racial collaborations came to fruition in an environment where

AABL and MAYO mutually believed that culturally relevant programs were critical to transforming their marginalized status as students of color and members of an oppressed community.

Nueva Tejanas—emboldened by their growing racial pride and engagement in grassroots activism—not only played key roles in the development of MAS, but also sought to transform white patriarchal institutions of higher education. When UH stalled on creating

MAS, stating that Tejana/o students were “going to have to wait” until AAS was fully established, Cynthia Perez, Maria Jiménez, Inés Hernández Tovar, and Evangelina Vigil marshaled resources to ensure that MAS became a reality.32 Working alongside their Tejano brothers Jaime de la Isla, Mario Garza, Daniel Bustamante, and Elliot Navarro, Tejana

31 Anna Marie Peña and Mark Villanueva, “Antiracism Rally Staged on Mall: Protestors Promised Regents’ Agenda Spot,” The Texan, March 14, 1975.

32 Tatcho Mindiola, interview by David Goldstein, video recording, June 4, 2008, Houston Oral History Project, Houston Public Library Digital Archives, Houston, TX.

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community feminists coordinated with faculty to pressure the administration, lobbied the state legislature for ethnic studies funding, conducted admissions and financial aid information sessions, and participated in Black and Brown recruitment and retention projects.33

A keen strategist and coalition builder who possessed the gift of gab, Jiménez was a leader in campus endeavors. In 1971, she became the first female and Chicana/o Student

Government Association (SGA) president at UH. Jiménez was able to serve in this position in part because she, as a member of UH MAYO, had worked out a deal with the white liberal student groups. She ran as vice president with Steve Umoff who agreed to be SGA president for six months and then resign, allowing Jiménez to become the president for the remaining six months. In addition to Anglo radicals, Jiménez received broad support from African

Americans, women, and international students. She saw her role in the protest era as “a social movement builder” as opposed to “the individual, traditional male dominant [leader].”34 For

Jiménez, it was more important to create an empowered grassroots base than to pursue personal gratification. She was not the only one dedicated to collective empowerment.

Female activists in UH MAYO forged cross-racial relationships, exhibiting what ethnic studies scholar Dolores Delgado Bernal characterizes as a “cooperative leadership style.”35

33 In Texas and throughout the nation, it was a handful of dedicated students that made Mexican American Studies possible. The Center for Mexican American Studies, “MAYO and the Mexican American Studies at UH in 1972,” (Fall Speaker Series, University of Houston, TX, October 3, 2012); “MAYO meeting with President Hoffman,” Box 44, Folder 21, Student Organizations, 1969-1973, President’s Office Records, 1927-2015, Subject Files, Special Collections, University of Houston Libraries.

34 Maria Jiménez, interview by Maria Cotera, video recording, August 31, 2012, Chicana Por Mi Raza Digital Archive, University of Illinois—Urbana Champaign, Champaign, IL.

35 Building on feminist scholarship, Delores Delgado Bernal contends that Chicanas were critical leaders in the Chicana/o Movement in so far as they were invested in collective processes where group members worked together in unison to generate change and improve social conditions. In their cross-racial and intra-ethnic endeavors, Tejanas played lead roles in advancing racial and gender equality. Delores Delgado 78

Through their cooperative leadership, Tejanas expanded the Chicana/o Movement to include the fight for broad racial equality. Jiménez met the needs of students of color as well as working class students by advocating for night information centers and student control of service fees during her tenure.36 Jiménez bridged student of color rights with gender rights by also advocating for day-care, free contraceptives, a female gynecologist, and free abortion counseling.37 A community feminist, she charged the ethnic Mexican culture as well as the

Anglo power structure for derailing Tejanas’ educational opportunities:

La cultura mejicana [sic] subjects a Chicana to no greater expectation than that of being a housewife...[As] a person in pursuit of educational advancement, she feels the family discouragement…a belief in masculine dominance and lack of encouragement head to apathy toward higher education and submission to her role as wife and mother…The Anglo education system simply reinforces her attitudes toward educational advancement…Her interests in education further diminishes [as] ill- trained, narrow minded counselors quickly channel her into “practical” occupations such as secretarial jobs, beauticians, etc. For Chicanas whose primary preoccupation is marriage such vocational courses will provide them with “temporary jobs” until they marry. Thus, many Chicanas permit themselves to be used by enemies of la Raza.38

For Jiménez, the gendered and racist practice of vocational tracking along with the lack of familial support undermined Tejana educational pathways.39 Moreover, she declared that if

Tejanas managed to “pass the ‘screening’ tests of major colleges,” they might still face the economic problems of “high tuition, little money, and federal grants that counselors forgot to

Bernal, “Grassroots Leadership Reconceptualized: Chicana Oral Histories and the 1968 East Los Angeles School Blowouts,” Frontiers: A Journal of Women Studies 19:2 (1998): 113-142.

36 Pedro Vasquez, “Maria Jimenez; Vice-President University of Houston Students,” Papel Chicano 1.8 (1971) 5.

37 The free abortion counseling proposition was fairly radical for its time as it pre-dated the Roe vs. Wade Supreme Court decision in 1973.

38Maria Jiménez, “Women Still Powerless,” Papel Chicano 1.4 (1971) 8.

39 Ibid.

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mention.”40 While Jiménez noted that Tejanos encountered similar racial barriers, stating that

Tejanas/os are “alienated by discrimination, language difficulties, irrelevant subjects, and bad teachers,” she took to task the cultural expectations that compounded ethnic Mexican women’s ability to thrive in higher education.41 When she published her thoughts on the educational advancement of mujeres in the local Tejana/o newspaper, Papel Chicano, some of Jiménez’s male activist counterparts gave her grief for espousing what they perceived as gringa issues. This accusation did not deter Jiménez, as she firmly believed the small

“number of Chicanas in colleges [was] detrimental to La Causa” since the advancement and development of “future generations [were] in the hands of Chicanas.42 Committed to broad ethnic and gender self-determination, nueva Tejanas like Jiménez persistently labored for women of color educational opportunities while trying to transform academia.

In the early 1970s, Tejanas in UH MAYO worked alongside their male counterparts and sympathetic faculty to ensure that MAS contributed “to the discovery, application, and transmittal of knowledge with special emphasis on [solving] the distinct social problems of the Mexican American community.”43 Nueva Tejanas recognized that a social action mission in ethnic studies was key to addressing their personal and community issues. In addition to documenting the ethnic Mexican experience, UH MAYO envisioned a center geared toward interdisciplinary social justice research and instruction. Tejana/o activists perceived “an

40 Maria Jiménez, “Women Still Powerless,” Papel Chicano 1.4 (1971) 8.

41 Ibid.

42 Ibid.

43 “University of Houston Mexican American Studies Program,” Box 7, Folder 11, Chicano Studies, 1974-1980, José Angel Gutiérrez Papers, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries.

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educated [person] as [someone] who expresses [their] individual talents in any way that will help [their] people and [their] community” and maintained that a person “who forgets [their] people and who only thinks of [themselves] and of making money, has no education at all.”44

That is, the purpose of higher education for Tejanas was to gain the skills and knowledge necessary to improve the conditions of the barrio. In MAS proposals, students and faculty developed coursework such as “The Barrio,” “Socio-Economics of Discrimination,” and

“Comparative Studies in Racism.”45 Such classes would introduce Tejana/o students to interlocking race and economic systems of oppression and instill the value of community involvement. More important, MAS courses would foster a resilient racial identity that refuted the idea that ethnic Mexicans were inferior or backwards. Through culturally relevant courses, Tejanas/os would become familiar with their civil rights history and past accomplishments.

Nueva Tejanas extended MAS research and instruction goals by serving as the first professors, conducting research on women, and laying the ground work for Chicana studies.

While students and faculty were successful in establishing the UH Center for Mexican

American Studies (UH CMAS) in 1972, they faced strong resistance from the administration in the hiring of full-time ethnic Mexican professors in political science, anthropology, and

44 Carlos Calbillo, “Chicano Studies,” Papel Chicano 1.9 (1971) 4.

45 Dr. Julius Rivera was the chairman of the Mexican American Studies Program Committee from 1971-72. The committee included faculty from various disciplines: Julius Rivera (Sociologist), Norris Lang (Anthropology), Thomas DiGregori (Economics), Harvey Johnson (Spanish and other Languages), Edward Gonzalez (Pharmacy), and Guadalupe Quintanilla (Spanish and other Languages). UH MAYO incorporated their views within this ethnic studies committee, as Maria Jimenez and Elliot Navarro were student representatives. Mexican American Studies Program Committee, Box 15, Folder 19, Mexican American Studies, College of Arts and Sciences Records, 1937-1973, Special Collections, University of Houston Libraries.

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history.46 Inés Hernández Tovar, a doctoral student in English, fulfilled UH MAYO’s demand for instructors that had personal knowledge of ethnic Mexican experiences and cultural values by submitting a proposal for a Chicana/o literature class. Although the

English Department “provided opportunities for graduate students to teach sophomore level courses on topics of their choosing,” she encountered resistance.47 Stanley Schatt, Director of

Lower Division Studies of the English Department, responded to Hernández Tovar’s request by accusing her of not going through the proper channels. He further stated that he was surprised that she held a Masters in English “with a thesis directed by one of our most outstanding scholars and teachers” and yet still had “problems understanding basic

English.”48 Tejanas/os in UH MAYO drafted an open letter to President Hoffman addressing this “prejudice and bigotry” and insisting that Schatt “be reprimanded seriously for his action, and that, at the very least, he be removed from the position of responsibility which he holds.”49 Hernández Tovar personally challenged Schatt’s contention that she did not understand the proper procedure and went to the chair of the department to report him. These efforts resulted in Hernández Tovar getting her course approved and Schatt no longer

46 Larry Johnson, “Meaningful Chicano Studies,” The Daily Cougar, March 10, 197. Guadalupe Castillo, “Mexican-American Studies: Fall Program Appears Grey, The Daily Cougar, August 17, 1972. “MAYO meeting with President Hoffman,” Box 44, Folder 21, Student Organizations, 1969-1973, President’s Office Records, 1927-2015, Subject Files, Special Collections, University of Houston Libraries.

47 Inés Hernández-Avila, interview by Maria Cotera, video recording, April 8, 2016, Chicana Por Mi Raza Digital Archive, University of Illinois—Urbana Champaign, Champaign, IL.

48 “UH MAYO Open Letter to President Hoffman,” Box 44, Folder 31, Student Organizations, 1969- 1973, President’s Office Records, 1927-2015, Subject Files, Special Collections, University of Houston Libraries.

49 “UH MAYO Open Letter to President Hoffman.”

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overseeing lower division studies in the English Department.50 In addition to including the writings of Tomás Rivera and Octavio I. Romero, Hernández Tovar’s Chicana/o Literature course focused on the works of Tejana Estela Portillo-Trambley. Portillo-Trambley’s themes shaped the trajectory of Chicana literature. She drew upon her experiences growing up in El

Paso and wrote Chicana characters that challenged their secondary roles while pursuing independent lives.51 Hernández Tovar also incorporated her own literary concepts “that allowed [the class] to see [themselves] and what [they] were doing and the creative and critical process that [they] were engaged in by studying the literature…seeing [themselves] in the literature.”52 Lastly, she developed a process for interrogating Chicana/o texts that allowed for reflection, reconciling past knowledge, and channeling new understandings into creative work.

Hernández Tovar’s Chicana/o Literature class influenced Tejana students at UH. Her pedagogical methods and inclusion of Portillo-Trambley not only exposed nueva Tejanas to gendered frameworks, but also contributed to the formation of a Tejana “differential consciousness.”53 Chicana theorist Chela Sandoval characterizes differential consciousness as U.S. Third World feminists’ ability to build upon their layered identity (gender, race,

50 Inés Hernández-Avila, interview by author, phone interview, audio recording, January 19, 2015, Houston, TX.

51 Ruthe Weingarten Memorial Foundation for Texas Women’s History, “Estela Portillo Trambley,” http://www.womenintexashistory.org/audio/trambley/, (accessed September 25, 2018).

52 Hernández-Avila, interview by author.

53 Chela Sandoval, Methodology of the Oppressed (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2000). For more information on the ways women of color deploy multi-dimensional modes of resistance, see Emma Pérez, The Decolonial Imaginary: Writing Chicanas into History (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1999) and Patricia Hill Collins, Black Feminist Thought: Knowledge, Consciousness, and the Politics of Empowerment (New York: Routledge, 2009).

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ethnicity, class, and sexuality) to deploy multi-dimensional modes of resistance.54 For

Sandoval, Chicanas juggle multiple oppressions in their everyday lives and thus, are capable of bridging as well as privileging particular tactics to alleviate their suffering. Hernández

Tovar’s Chicana/o course facilitated Tejana differential awareness to community empowerment. Her introspective and creative frameworks critically informed how Tejanas, who were largely seasoned and emerging activists, approached their gender interventions. As

Louise Villejo recalls:

We were taking [Inés Hernández Tovar’s] class and [she] gave us the option of doing a paper for the class or doing teatro. Ana [Olivarez] is very kinesthetic. I’m very kinesthetic and Joe [Alvarez] is a brainiac [sic]…We did “Los Vendidos”…That really gave us an impetus to work more…We did a lot more teatro…We did little theater pieces, kind of like consciousness-raising in a lot of different venues. We would go to parks and organizations….We did [“Los Vendidos”] and that got us to start reading together and asking what we can do.55

While performing community teatro, Villejo collaborated with Tejanas/os to address racism, classism, and feminism. Building on her teatro work, Villejo become involved in UH MAYO and served as president of the Tejana organization Mujeres Unidas. As president of Mujeres

Unidas, Villejo met with Tejana activists across the state to combat race and gender oppression. For example, she worked with Martha Cotera to host a conference in 1975 on generating ethnic self-determination and positive Tejana identities (discussed in more detail in Chapter 3). Hernández Tovar’s “differential consciousness” pedagogy watered the seeds of multi-issue resistance among nueva Tejanas. Ana Olivarez also expanded her feminist consciousness while taking Hernández Tovar’s class:

54 Chela Sandoval, Methodology of the Oppressed, 59.

55 Louise Villejo, interview by author, audio recording, January 9, 2015, Houston, TX.

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When I was taking Chicana/o Literature, we got [Elena Portillo-Trambley]…back then the writings were more poetic, more culture based…I think what [Inés Hernández Tovar] did in those classes was to expose the class not just to [the] male dominant Mexican patriarch and everything that it is, but bringing in literature that was reflecting the Chicana, the Mexicana woman experience. That was the beginning. For me, it was a validation…with my dad being a [macho], it was big. It really felt validating and refreshing.56

In 1975, Hernández Tovar advanced ethnic Mexican women differential awareness by teaching a Chicana course at UT. While completing her doctorate, she gained a joint appointment in American Studies and CMAS. Hernández Tovar used this opportunity to teach “La Chicana in America” and address the “Chicana and the often narrow role that she has had in the Mexican-American culture, where men were considered leaders in movements” and “women were thought of only as workers in the movements.”57 In addition to highlighting sexism within the movimiento, she mapped the distinctive genealogy of

Chicana feminism and assigned students the task of documenting Tejana resistance through interviews. Lastly, Hernández Tovar required her students to keep a journal to chronicle their burgeoning awareness of Chicana issues. By centering her course on the deconstruction of

Chicana stereotypes, the documentation of Chicana activism in Texas, and reflection on

Chicana oppression, Hernández Tovar facilitated the crystallization of nueva Tejana differential consciousness. She perceived her intervention in academia and in the community as creative acts rooted in helping the people and finding strength in the knowledge of ethnic

Mexican history. Understanding that ethnic Mexican men struggled with generational racial

56 Ana Olivarez Levinson, interview by author, audio recording, April 24, 2015, Houston, TX.

57 “Chicana Course Tries to Cope with Stereotyping,” Ft. Worth Star-Telegram, October 2, 1975.

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discrimination in the South, Hernández Tovar collaborated with Tejano brothers who “dealt with their hermanas with respect and sensitivity” in her literary endeavors.58

Nueva Tejanas, such as Hernández Tovar, labored to ensure that Chicana research and instruction was integral to MAS. While UT had a long tradition of ethnic Mexican intellectualism—including scholars George I. Sánchez, Américo Paredes, and Carlos

Castañeda—Chicana studies had yet to gain serious recognition among Chicanos in the mid-

1970s. In “Sexism in Chicano Studies and the Community,” UT alumna and historian

Cynthia Orozco argued that “when Chicanas raised the issue of male domination,” Chicano scholars “put down the ideology of feminism” and “argued that race and class were the determining factors in understanding the subordinate position of Mexicans in the United

States.”59 Chicano scholars’ refusal to recognize gender as a critical research agenda did not hinder Hernández Tovar nor dissuade Olivia “Evey” Chapa from developing the first

Chicana course at UT before the arrival of Hernández Tovar. It was the vigilance of mujeres such as Hernández Tovar and Evey Chapa that made Chicana studies a viable field of study.

For Chapa, it was not only imperative to have a gender focus within MAS, but to also fight for Tejana educational opportunities in the public school system. At a Chicana/o educational conference in 1975, she advocated for Tejana representation in education, stating that:

Less than 1 percent of Texas school board members, principals, and vice-principals are Chicanas…We make-up 50 percent of La Raza. We cannot be ignored if Mexican

58 Inés Hernández Tovar, “Y Si Me Permites, Te Nombro Hermana,” HEMBRA: Hermanas en Movimiento Brotando Raices de Aztlan (1976): 2.

59 Cynthia Orozco, “Sexism in Chicano Studies and the Community,” in Chicana Voices: Intersections of Class, Race, and Gender eds. Teresa Cordova, Norma Elia Cantú, and Gilberto Cardenas (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press,1993), 11-12.

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Americans want to come out ahead. What I am saying is that we are looking to work together for the common good.60

A community feminist, Chapa couched Tejana empowerment within the broader fight for ethnic self-determination. Like Maria Jiménez and Hernández Tovar, Chapa and other nueva

Tejanas bridged anti-racism and anti-sexism in secondary educational endeavors, particularly in the battle for bilingual and bicultural education.

Nueva Tejana Activism in Community-informed and Bi-cultural Public Education

Spaces

The culturally relevant curricula battle was not only fought at universities. MAYO activists believed that educating ethnic Mexican children about their history as well as meeting their particular needs was key to their advancement as a people. From 1967 to 1970,

MAYO organized thirty-nine walk-outs throughout the state of Texas, pressuring school districts to address the educational concerns of Tejana/o students.61 Activists in MAYO sought to “control local school districts or individual schools in order to make the institution adapt to the needs of the Mexican community” rather than “making the Chicano student adapt to the school.”62 Nueva Tejanas not only fought for community-informed schools— where the community decided “where the money went, which teachers, principals, and counselors [were] hired and fired, what [was] taught and how it [was] taught, and all other

60 Jose M. Flores, “Groups Discuss Chicano Education: Testing, Administrators, Women Among Topics,” Texan, February 10, 1975.

61 Navarro, Mexican American Youth Organization, Kindle edition, location 2578.

62 “MAYO Pamphlet,” Box 58, MAYO 1968-72, José Angel Gutiérrez Papers, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries.

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things involved in running a school,” but were also key players in the struggle for bilingual and bicultural education throughout the 1970s.63

The ethnic Mexican battle for bilingual and bicultural education originated with middle-class ethnic Mexican legal battles against separate and inferior schooling. In the

1940s and 1950s, the American G.I. Forum and the League of United Latin American

Citizens (LULAC) mounted an aggressive educational equality campaign, believing that education was a critical vehicle for socio-economic mobility and freedom. Since the early twentieth century, barrio youth had attended separate “Mexican” schools throughout Texas.

These substandard facilities concentrated on rudimentary skills and were staffed by Anglo teachers who believed that ethnic Mexicans were biologically and intellectually inferior .64

The 1946 Mendez vs. Westminster School District case was a watershed moment in the dismantling of second-tier education. With the support of LULAC attorneys, Gonzalo and

Felicitas Méndez successfully challenged the segregation of ethnic Mexican students in

Orange County, California, arguing that it violated the Fourteenth Amendment.65 While ethnic Mexican youth were able to attend formerly Anglo-only schools in California following the Mendez vs. Westminster School District decision, Tejana/o students remained in segregated schools for decades. It would take several LULAC suits—backed by the

American G.I. Forum—to destabilize the climate of separate and unequal schooling in the

63 “Statement of the Mexican American Youth Organization, Houston, Tejas, Aztlan,” Box 1, Folder 1 MAYO General Information, Gregorio Salazar Papers, Houston Metropolitan Research Center.

64 David Montejano, Anglos and Mexicans in the Making of Texas, 1836-1986 (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1987), Kindle edition, location 3429-3455.

65 Gilbert G. Gonzalez, Chicano Education in the Era of Segregation (Denton: University of North Texas Press, 2013), 196; Brian D. Behnken, Fighting Their Own Battles: Mexican American, African Americans, and the Struggle for Civil Rights in Texas (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2011), 41.

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Juan Crow South. For example, Delgado v. Bastrop Independent School District (1948) was a key case, which ruled that placing ethnic Mexican students in different buildings was discriminatory and a violation of constitutional rights.

A core obstacle in the middle-class ethnic Mexican battle for educational reform was the separation and holding back of children who were native Spanish speakers. In 1946,

Texas Attorney General Price Daniel responded to the Mendez decision by arguing against ethnic Mexican segregation except on the basis of individual language deficiencies and aptitude.66 That is, he declared that in the situation of Spanish-speaking and intellectually inferior children, “the school district may maintain separate classes in separate buildings…through the first three grades.”67 This language deficiency and scholastic ability loophole effectively preserved ethnic Mexican school isolation in Texas. From 1949 to 1955, the Driscoll Independent School District kept the predominately ethnic Mexican school population “in the first two grades for four years and [allowed them] to enter the regular third grade with English speaking students who had completed the same grade in two years.”68

Anglo school officials argued that ethnic Mexican students were placed in separate classes not on the basis of race, but rather because they did not speak or understand English.

66 Compounding the segregation and holding back of Spanish-speaking children was the unconstitutional underfunding of schools in the barrios. The 1971 Rodriguez et al. vs San Antonio ISD and the succeeding 1984 Edgewood ISD V. Kirby were landmark cases that pressured Texas to formulate a more equitable public school funding system. Cynthia E. Orozco, “RODRIGUEZ V. SAN ANTONIO ISD.,” Handbook of Texas Online, Texas State Historical Association, https://tshaonline.org/handbook/online/articles/jrrht, (accessed September 7, 2018); Teresa Paloma Acosta, “EDGEWOOD ISD V. KIRBY,” Handbook of Texas Online, Texas State Historical Association, https://tshaonline.org/handbook/online/articles/jre02, (accessed September 7, 2018).

67 Carlos Blanton, The Strange Career of Bilingual Education in Texas, 1836-1981 (College Station: Texas A&M University Press, 2004), 113.

68 Guadalupe San Miguel, Jr., “The Struggle Against Separate and Unequal Schools: Middle Class Mexican Americans and the Desegregation Campaign in Texas, 1929-957,” History of Education Quarterly 23.3 (Autumn 1983), 354.

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The 1968 Bilingual Act marked a fundamental turning point in the second tier education of Tejanas/os. Historian Carlos Blanton contends that this act not only provided a linguistic tool for educating Spanish-speaking students, but more important, discredited racist

English-Only policies that had dominated teaching methods since World War I. The combination of academic studies pointing out the benefits of Spanish instruction in the classroom, the Federal Office of Education shift away from English-only towards English as

Second Language (ESL), and Chicana/o activism across the nation, including MAYO’s educational campaigns, made the bilingual act possible.69 This piece of legislation opened the door for Tejana/o educators and MAYO activists to utilize bilingual education as a potent strategy for “eliminating discrimination and for improving the academic achievement of

Spanish-speaking children.”70 Tejanas/os became disillusioned with desegregation campaigns as their neighborhood schools remained inferior and the courts were failing to enforce integration.71 The 1970 Cisneros v. Corpus Christi Independent School District case, which mirrored Brown vs. Board of Education, significantly advanced education reform by recognizing ethnic Mexicans as an identifiable minority group in public schools. However, a

1971 U.S. Commission on Civil Rights study on ethnic isolation in the Southwest revealed that Texas took the lead in the ethnic Mexican school segregation—Tejana/o pupils were still overwhelmingly concentrated in Mexican American districts.72 Despite these challenges,

69 Blanton, The Strange Career of Bilingual Education, 125-126.

70 Guadalupe San Miguel, Jr., “The Impact of Brown on Mexican American Desegregation Litigation, 1950s to 1980s,” Journal of Latinos and Education 4.4 (2005), 234.

71 San Miguel, Jr., “The Struggle Against Separate and Unequal Schools;” San Miguel, Jr., “The Impact of Brown on Mexican American Desegregation Litigation, 1950s to 1980s.”

72 U.S. Commission on Civil Rights, Mexican American Study Report 1: Ethnic Isolation of Mexican Americans in the Public Schools of the Southwest (Washington, D.C., 1971). 90

bilingual and bicultural education made it possible for ethnic Mexican students to excel in education regardless if they were in segregated or desegregated environments.73 For MAYO activists emboldened by cultural pride, bilingual/bicultural education offered a space for racial awareness in the public school system.

Nueva Tejanas played critical roles in bilingual and bicultural education battles. As they worked to ensure that culture was central to class curricula and pedagogical methods,

Tejana community feminists fought for class materials and instruction to address sexism alongside racism. The Tejana-led push for race and gender frameworks in bilingual/bicultural classrooms fostered an early awareness of differential consciousness. That is, Tejana/o youth were provided the racial and gender intellectual tools necessary to navigate structural and intra-ethnic oppression.

As outlined in Chapter 1, female activists in MAYO came-of-age in a Juan Crow environment where speaking Spanish was a punishable offense and cultural denial was pervasive. The inability to speak their mother tongue and to embrace their ethnic roots galvanized nueva Tejana activism in the battle for community-informed schooling. As Maria

Elena Martínez remembers:

I walked into the first grade classroom without knowing English in Garland, Texas. That was a really interesting experience for me. I was mute, I think, [for] a whole year. I was the only Mexican American in the classroom….I did not know how to read English and I did not really learn to read that first year. It was more like I was observing everything and everyone….[The] tragic thing was my mom had made me this beautiful little winter coat that I had taken and I left it outside when we went out to play. They came to the classrooms showing the coat….I could not claim my coat. I just had no voice. I was completely without the ability to claim it in that strange place

73 San Miguel, Jr., “The Impact of Brown on Mexican American Desegregation Litigation.”

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for me. I think that was really the seed, though, that started my journey to become a bilingual teacher, a bilingual coordinator, and an activist in the schools.74

Gloria Guardiola and Yolanda Garza Birdwell similarly tapped into their experiences with discrimination while championing representation and ethnic studies in the Houston

Independent School District (HISD).75

As in other parts of Texas, HISD funneled ethnic Mexican students in “Mexican” primary schools until the 1930s. While a small number of ethnic Mexicans in Houston attended middle and high school in the 1940s and 1950s, LULAC had to resort to litigation well into the 1970s to pressure local districts, including HISD, to desegregate and to comply with the 1954 Brown vs. Board of Education ruling.76 In 1970, U.S. Federal District Judge

Ben Connally ordered HISD to implement a meaningful integration plan.77 Judge Connally’s ruling recognized ethnic Mexicans as white for desegregation purposes and set the stage for

HISD to avoid integrating Anglos and African Americans by pairing ethnic Mexican students with African American students.78 Tejanas/os responded to this false integration plan by not only boycotting public schools, but also instituting seventeen huelga (strike) schools housed in barrio churches and centers. Within a week, student participation in the huelga schools

74 Martínez, interview by author.

75 Gloria Guardiola, interview by author, audio recording, February 6, 2014, Sugar Land, TX; Yolanda Garza Birdwell, interview by author, audio recording, February 12, 2014, Laguna Vista, TX.

76 Guadalupe San Miguel, Jr., Brown not White: School Integration and the Chicano Movement in Houston (College Station: Texas A&M University Press, 2005), Kindle edition.

77 Guadalupe San Miguel, Jr., Brown Not White, Kindle edition, location 936.

78 Although ethnic Mexicans were legally designated as white following the U.S.-Mexican War, the entrenched Juan Crow South barred them from accessing the social, economic, and political privileges of whiteness (Chapter 1). HISD exploited Tejanas/os’ white designation to stall true integration. In the climate of ethnic self-determination, MAYO challenged HISD’s false pairing plan and fought for Tejanas/os to be recognized as an identifiable minority group.

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swelled to 4,000.79 Working with the Mexican-American Education Council (MAEC), barrio

MAYO utilized the school strike as a means to promote cultural pride and social justice awareness.80 Their efforts proved successful; students expressed their newfound racial identity by stating: “I am boycotting because I’m not white. I am a Chicano and I’m Brown.

The School Board considers me white now and that’s because they are integrating the schools….Well, I am no white [sic] and I will stand up and show my color.”81

Nueva Tejanas Guardiola and Garza Birdwell served as huelga school instructors and boldly challenged HISD administrators to fulfill MAEC’s demands. Seeking to dismantle

HISD’s false integration plan and to foster community-informed schooling, MAEC insisted that the school board recognize Tejanas/os as an identifiable ethnic group “subject to the due protection of the law;” establish proportionate representation of ethnic Mexican administrators, committee members, teachers, and counselors; place a premium on academic training instead of vocational tracking; and declare the 16th of September and Cinco de Mayo as “official school holidays” so as to honor the “cultural heritage of the Mexican

American.”82 Mirroring MAEC’s demands, MAYO’s organizational statement on integration went further to call for “complete control of Barrio schools by the community” and

79 Sister Gloria Guallardo, “Another First in Houston,” Papel Chicano 1.12 (1971) 7.

80 Guadalupe San Miguel, Jr., Brown Not White, 88. In Houston, there existed a MAYO chapter in the community and another chapter at the University of Houston. Labeled barrio MAYO, the community chapter focused on public school reform, establishing community institutions, police brutality and other grassroots issues. UH MAYO, while centered on university issues and establishing Chicana/o studies, supported many barrio MAYO endeavors.

81 Jaime Diaz, “Why I am Boycotting,” Papel Chicano 1.12 (1971) 7.

82 “Demands of the Mexican American Education Council to the Houston Independent School District,” Box 2, Folder 6, MAYO and The Mexican American Education Council, Gregorio Salazar Papers, Houston Metropolitan Research Center.

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communal decisions regarding “where the money is spent, which teachers, principals, are hired and fired, what is taught and how it is taught.”83

As leaders in barrio MAYO, Guardiola and Garza Birdwell eagerly protested for community-informed schools that met the needs of ethnic Mexicans students. At an HISD meeting in September of 1970, barrio MAYO arrived with the intention of ensuring that the ethnic Mexican community was given time to vocalize their concerns to the school board.

The MAEC coalition had faced opposition in pre-securing ten minutes for parent testimonials as HISD had a policy of not honoring the requests of community organizations. Speaking on behalf of the MAEC, Leonel Castillo pressured School Board President Leonard Robbins to agree to the possibility of community statements at the end of the HISD meeting. Castillo effectively argued allowing community grievances would go a long way in illustrating

HISD’s commitment to rectifying the much-hated false integration plan.84 After giving an

Anglo parent time to state his opposition to compulsory vaccinations, Robbins proceeded to end the meeting and close the doors. Refusing to allow the ethnic Mexican community to be silenced, barrio MAYO members, including Garza Birdwell, rushed toward the podium and an altercation with the police ensued.85 Nine MAYO activists were subsequently arrested and charged with malicious mischief and disorderly conduct.86 Garza Birdwell readily joined the melee, proclaiming afterwards “we smashed [the building] because they didn’t want to talk to

83 “Statement of the Mexican American Youth Organization,” Box 1, Folder 1, MAYO General Information, Gregorio Salazar Papers, Houston Metropolitan Research Center.

84 Leonel J. Castillo, “Confusion at HISD,” Papel Chicano 1.4 (1971) 4.

85 Lorenzo Diaz, “The Struggle Never Ends,” Papel Chicano 1.5 (1971) 10.

86 Jorge Castillo, “14 Arrested at HISD,” Papel Chicano 1.5 (1971) 5.

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us. Houston is going to be sorry because we are going to stand up.”87 Guardiola was also prepared to defend community-informed education—she missed the protest because of her teaching duties at the huelga schools, but would have joined otherwise to defend the people’s voice.88

While Guardiola and Garza Birdwell did not center their activism on women’s issues within the huelga school movement, they played critical roles in advancing the movement for culturally relevant and community-informed education as leaders of barrio MAYO. Both believed that “true education should be critical and analytical” and make a person more

“conscientious of [their] social and political responsibilities.89 To that end, Guardiola introduced the word Chicana/o and talked about the movimiento in her huelga classes and

Garza Birdwell did her part in defending the ethnic Mexican community’s right to shape school policy. Collectively, they represent strong nueva Tejanas who, emboldened by their commitment for grassroots racial justice, fought for an educational process that was “relevant to the needs of the Chicano” and “enhanced the cultural background” of children.90

In tandem with broad public education activism, nueva Tejanas intervened in the bilingual and bicultural movement. Martha Cotera entered the fray of language and culture activism in 1968 as an information and documents specialist for the Southwest Education

Developmental Laboratory (SEDL) in Austin. Working towards the creation of a robust bilingual and bicultural program, she left SEDL after a couple of years finding it “difficult to

87 Frank Davis, “Militant Latins Disrupt Meeting of School Board,” Houston Post, September 15, 1970.

88 Guardiola, interview.

89 Guardiola and Garza Birdwell, La Mujer, 28.

90 Guardiola and Garza Birdwell, La Mujer, 28.

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grow and develop as a Chicano within an Anglo institution.”91 While employed at the SEDL,

Cotera presented at a La Raza Unida Conference in 1970 where she asserted that bilingual education should be:

Multicultural in scope allowing then, the two specific cultural groups involved, i.e. Chicano, Anglo-American, ample field for individual development. The child will then have the opportunity to develop in [their] parent’s culture, while [they] acquires the skills (not values) which will help [them] operate fully in the society in which [they live]….And as we Chicanos say cultural genocide is too high a price for its omission.92

Driven by the mission to cultivate cultural maintenance through bilingualism, she traveled to the South Texas in 1970 to assist Colegio Jacinto Trevino’s goal of producing bicultural teachers and culturally relevant curricula. Cotera spent her time at the colegio—the first

Chicana/o college in the nation—constructing a Chicana/o library. While in South Texas, she also served as a coordinator and consultant for library facilities in Crystal City and organized files on bilingualism and Chicana/o studies. Cotera’s creation of Chicana/o materials for bilingual classes was critical to the institutionalization of biculturalism. For Cotera, bilingualism should not be a transitional program, but rather a means of nourishing a self- confidence grounded in racial awareness.

Tejana community feminist Evey Chapa concurred with Cotera’s bicultural vision and spent the latter part of the 1970s invested in promoting language and culture. At Texas

A&I University in Kingsville, she directed the Bilingual Reading Academy that serviced

91 Martha Cotera, Interview by Joyce Langenegger, audio recording, March 3, 1973, Baylor University Program for Oral History, Baylor University, Waco, TX.

92 “The Beginning of Bicultural Education and the Chicano,” Box 12, TEAM, Martha Cotera Papers, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries.

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adults in Robstown, Alice, and Kingsville—South Texas towns populated by the influx of migrants. When interviewed about the academy, Chapa asserted that:

[There] are two types of bilingual education. The maintenance, that is you maintain the language, the culture, or the transition and that is transitional. You teach in another language until that person is ready to speak English and then you mainstream them into the school system. That is what we have here in Texas, a transitional program which I don’t think is working because, as I mentioned, the influx from the border…it is very detrimental for you to think of your primary home language as a handicap and that we are going to come in and help you get rid of your home language and your culture and learn the right language….There is evidence that if your self-concept is not at a positive level for yourself, that you are not going to learn anything.93

For Chapa, bicultural education was a vehicle for multi-educational instruction and a critical solution to racial strife.

A bilingual instructor and coordinator, Maria Elena Martínez also channeled her energy in fostering a multilingual and multicultural education system in Austin. As the

Austin Independent School District (AISD) was losing federal funding due to its inadequate bilingual program in 1978, Martínez addressed her grievances to the school board and joined the Mexican American Legal Defense Fund (MALDEF) in charging AISD with failing to meet the needs of Spanish-speaking students. While she often witnessed seasoned Anglo teachers and administrators downplaying the utility of bilingual and bicultural education, she boldly pressed forward in securing funding and establishing bilingualism through the Texas

Association for Bilingual Educators (TABE).94

93 “Bilingual Education,” Armando Gutiérrez interview with Olivia Evey Chapa, Onda Latina: The Mexican American Experience, aired December 12, 1978.

94 Martínez, interview by author.

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Bilingualism and Biculturalism opened the doors for nueva Tejanas not only to spearhead the restructuring of public education, but also to introduce race and gender frameworks in course curricula. Through the Women’s Educational Equity Act Program

(WEEAP), Cotera compiled a manual for identifying race and sex bias in bilingual and multicultural education materials. From 1974 to 1978, WEEAP operated as a federal program aimed at addressing sex bias in education through the development and dissemination of curricula as well as other activities “designed to advance educational equity.”95 In Cotera’s racial and gender guide, she described racism as “an attitude, action, or institutional structure which subordinates a person or group because of his or her color,” and sexism as “the accumulation of attitudes, beliefs, and behaviors which result from the arbitrary assumption that one sex is superior.”96 Cotera pointed out that sexist learning materials characterized women as weak, passive, and irrational while depicting men as strong, assertive, and practical. She encouraged teachers to seriously evaluate sex-role and racial stereotyping in the classroom. Cotera’s manual also promoted cultural relevancy alongside the diversity of gender roles and the celebration of women’s accomplishments. Lastly, she provided a bibliography of instructional materials that tackled race and gender bias. Cotera’s work in compiling anti-racist and anti-sexist guidelines for bilingual educators not only reflected her community feminism, but also encouraged the development of a differential consciousness in

Chicana/o youth. Gender and ethnic course work opened spaces for male and female Spanish

95 “Women’s Education Equity Act Annual Report,” Department of Health, Education, and Welfare (Washington, D.C., 1978): 3.

96 Martha Cotera, “Checklist for Counteracting Race and Sex Bias in Educational Materials,” Women’s Educational Equity Act Program, (Washington, D.C., 1978): VII.

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speaking children to see themselves positively and to draw on their culture when navigating society.

Cotera reinforced differential consciousness among school-age children by promoting

“educational equity for women from diverse cultures in the United States” in a WEEAP multicultural sourcebook.97 The resources on ethnic Mexican women included articles that addressed Chicana issues in national context, revolutionary and women’s involvement in feminist movements, the contemporary and traditional ethnic Mexican man, racism, Tejana history, and Chicanas’ double oppression. One essay offered a review of bilingual education classes in AISD and pointed out numerous examples of sex-role stereotyping in grades K-3.

Lastly, the sourcebook included Chicana feminist Anna Nieto-Gomez’s writings on institutional oppression, ethnic self-determination, and Chicana perspectives on education.

Cotera’s compiling of these class materials facilitated ethnic and gender awareness among elementary, middle, and high school students.

Conclusion

Nueva Tejanas’ intervention in the transformation of academia alongside community- informed and bilingual/bicultural educational activism not only nourished their cooperative leadership skills, but also provided a space to foster differential consciousness. In Chicano and Chicana Studies courses, Tejanas highlighted Chicanas’ long history of activism as well as their particular plight as women with the goal of empowering Tejana students to bring about broad change. Inés Hernández Tovar’s courses inspired students such as Louise Villejo

97 Martha Cotera, “Multicultrual Women’s Sourcebook: Materials Guide for Use in Women’s Studies and Bilingual/Multicultural Programs,” Women’s Educational Equity Act Program (Washington, D.C., 1982): iii. 99

and Ana Olivarez to advance their feminist sensibilities and become involved in MAYO as well as Mujeres Unidas, bridging anti-racism with anti-sexism. Moreover, Martha Cotera incorporated ethnic Mexican women’s fights for social justice and gender rights as she generated bilingual and bicultural curricula for Tejana/o youth. Nueva Tejanas’ grassroots activism in educational self-determination fueled their race-based feminist formations.

Tejanas in MAYO did not always specifically address gender rights in their educational interventions. Their leadership, however, not only empowered other Tejanas, but played a critical role in maintaining a commitment to racial liberation despite sexism in the movimiento. Nueva Tejanas’ desire for collective liberation in the segregated South spurred the persistent tethering of ethnic self-determination with gender equality. Their work in

MAYO served as an important launching pad for forging their distinct brand of community feminisms. While defining the contours of their Tejana feminist thought, women’s conferences as well as women’s organizations became critical sites for fleshing out their core principals.

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Chapter Three Yes, the Chicana Woman Does Want to be Liberated: Counterpublics and the Core Tenets of Tejana Feminist Thought

On March 23, 1969, 1,500 Chicana/o youth from across the nation gathered in

Denver, Colorado for the Crusade for Justice’s National Youth and Liberation Conference

(NYLC). Seeking to define their role within the national Chicana/o Movement, Chicanas conducted a woman’s workshop.1 When it came time to present their report to the conference attendees, the workshop representative merely declared: “It was the consensus of the group that the Chicana woman does not want to be liberated.”2 This statement signaled to Chicanos and Chicanas that ethnic Mexican women were not interested in the Anglo Feminist

Movement (AFM)—they would not separate, but rather fight against racism alongside their brothers in the Chicana/o Movement. Chicana workshop attendee Enriqueta Longeaux

Vasquez decried this oversimplification of Chicanas’ layered understanding of gender and racial freedom, but recognized that “going with the feelings of the men of the convention was perhaps the best thing to do at the time,” stating that “when a family is involved in a human rights movement…there is little room for women’s liberation alone.”3 On a national level,

Chicana feminists struggled to merge anti-racism and anti-sexism in the late 1960s. As historian Maylei Blackwell notes, Chicana “activists were so busy defending themselves against the charges that feminism was whitewashed or lesbian that they did not always

1 Carlos Muñoz, Jr., Youth, Identity, Power: The Chicano Movement (New York: Verso, 1989), 75-78. The conversations at the 1969 National Youth Liberation Conference’s spurred the creation of El Plan Espiritu de Aztlan, a nationalist manifesto calling for Chicana/o self-determination and ethnic solidarity.

2 Enriqueta Longeaux Vasquez, “The Woman of La Raza,” Magazin 1:4 (1972): 66.

3 Longeaux Vasquez, “The Woman of La Raza,” 66; 68.

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disrupt the underlying hetero-patriarchal assumptions of those charges.”4 The perception that

Chicanas privileged race for the sake of collective freedom have loomed large in the minds of activists and scholars in the decades following the 1969 NYLC.5

The vocal choice to situate themselves within the battle for ethnic self-determination, however, did not mean that Chicanas regionally and nationally would be complacent about pursuing their own freedom as women of color. Often obscured in the coverage of the NYLC are the Chicana workshop resolutions that clearly illustrate mujeres’ commitment to anti- sexism. Chicana workshop attendees declared: “we have reached a point in our struggle for the liberation of La Raza where the growth of our women and their participation has become of the utmost necessity.” By the late 1960s, Chicanas began agitating for an expanded role in the movimiento. They further resolved that “all women must participate according to their capacity in all levels of the struggle.” That is, women activists should not be relegated to menial tasks or subordinate ranking within organizations. For Chicanas, this goal of cultivating female leadership roles was inextricably linked to a collective understanding of la familia. Chicanas advocated for the changing of “the concept of the alienated family where the woman assumes total responsibility for the care of the home and the raising of the children to the concept of La Raza! as the united family” where men and women assumed

4 Maylei Blackwell, ¡Chicana Power!: Contested Histories of Chicana Feminists in the Chicano Movement (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2011), 141.

5 For more on the interpretation of the 1969 NYLC Chicana workshop declaration see Marc Simon Rodriguez, Rethinking the Chicano Movement (New York: Routledge, 2015); Arturo Rosales and Francisco A. Rosales, Chicano!: The History of the Mexican American Civil Rights Movement, 2nd ed. (Houston: Arte Público Press, 1997); Ruth Rosen, The World Split Open: How the Modern Women’s Movement Changed America (New York: Penguin, 2006); Vicki Ruiz, From Out of the Shadows: Mexican Women in Twentieth- Century America (New York: Oxford University Press, 1998); and Michael Soldatenko, Chicano Studies: The Genesis of a Discipline (Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 2011).

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“the responsibility for the love, care, education, and orientation of all the children of Aztlan.”

While Chicanas did not vocalize their desire for gender equality openly in front of all NYLC attendees, their women’s workshop resolutions show that they were thinking in feminist terms, pursuing the broad freedom of all members of the community. To facilitate the political maturation of Chicanas and the reconceptualized Chicana/o family, they encouraged

“all women to meet in their own groups for the purpose of education and discussion.”6

Women’s spaces would afford mujeres the opportunity not only to politicize other women, but also to define the contours of women of color liberation.

While nueva Tejanas grounded their fights against racism and sexism in the grassroots educational self-determination projects of the Mexican American Youth

Organization (MAYO), they did not limit their feminist activism to movimiento campaigns.

They exemplified the push for women’s empowerment, as conveyed in the NYLC Chicana workshop resolutions, by carving out distinctly female spaces where they expressed their community feminism, or the merging of anti-sexism with anti-racism. Examining the Texas- based 1971 La Conferencia de Mujeres Por La Raza (Women for the Race Conference), the

Chicana Research and Learning Center (CRLC), the Mexican American Business and

Professional Women’s Association (MABPWA), and the 1975 Chicana Identity Conference at the University of Houston (UH), this chapter argues that Tejana conferences and organizations were feminist spaces central to identifying and bolstering the core tenets of community feminism. These “counterpublics” allowed Tejanas to come together to define and advance women of color freedom. In dialogue with local, regional, and national articulations of Chicana rights, Tejanas nurtured a community feminism in women’s

6 No Author, “Resolution from the Chicana Workshop,” La Verdad, June, 1970.

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conferences and organization spaces that focused on the principles of sexual freedom, reproductive justice, ethnic self-determination, and sisterhood with the goal of creating and disseminating data for Chicanas by Chicanas and deconstructing controlling stereotypes and archetypes. Building on sociologist Patricia Hill Collins’ notion of controlling images, this chapter also examines the ways Tejanas deconstructed institutional and intra-ethnic archetypes in autonomous zones such as Chicana conferences and organizations.7

This chapter draws upon historian Maylei Blackwell’s discussion of “counterpublics” as parallel spaces to the Chicana/o Movement where Chicanas not only facilitated feminist formations, but also generated the cross-pollination of ideas.8 For Blackwell, Chicana counterpublics made “feminist formations visible in diverse locations” and helped to “build cross-regional coalitions.”9 In women’s conferences and organizations across Texas, mujeres tackled gender issues reflective of their personal experiences and represented such feminisms in regional and national plans of action. Autonomous zones allowed Tejanas to nourish and express what historian Emma Pérez describes as third space feminism—to intervene “with their particular agenda about what revolution meant.”10 Tejanas’ distinct brand of feminism

7 As Patricia Hill Collins notes, “controlling images,” including the portrayal of African American women as “stereotypical mammies, matriarchs, welfare recipients, and hot mamas,” have been deployed to maintain Black women’s oppression. Patricia Hill Collins, Black Feminist Thought: Knowledge, Consciousness and the Politics of Empowerment (New York: Routledge, 2000), 69.

8 Blackwell, ¡Chicana Power!. Blackwell’s notion of counterpublics draws on feminist philosopher Nancy Fraser, who contends that oppositional public spaces occur alongside political movements and are critical to formulating identities, interests, and needs. For more on Chicana oppositional spaces, see Gloria Anzaldúa, Borderlands/La Frontera: The New Mestiza (San Francisco: Spinster/Aunt Lute, 1987); Emma Pérez, The Decolonial Imaginary: Writing Chicanas into History (Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 1999); and Chela Sandoval, “U.S. Third World Feminism: The Theory and Method of Oppositional Consciousness in the Postmodern World,” Genders 10 (Spring 1991): 1-24.

9 Blackwell, ¡Chicana Power!, 134.

10 Pérez, The Decolonial Imaginary, Kindle Edition, Location 1024.

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was not only rooted in ethnic self-determination, but also forged in workshop sessions and gender campaigns where they sought to empower ethnic Mexican women, and in the process, expand the frames of the Chicana/o Movement. Tejana counterpublics demonstrate that

Chicanas did indeed want to be liberated. Their fight for women’s rights, however, was not only intergenerational and multidirectional, but, more importantly, was based on women of color experiences in the Juan Crow and Jim Crow South. Historian Marisela R. Chavéz asserts that Chicana feminisms are rooted in the long history of women of color participation in social movements and efforts to address women’s issues. Building on Chávez, I argue that counterpublics offered a space for seasoned and novice Tejana activists to collectively generate a homegrown feminist thought.11

La Conferencia: Tejana Sexual Freedom and Reproductive Justice

In the early 1970s, Tejanas participated in women’s conferences in order to define and advance their emergent community feminisms. The 1971 La Conferencia de Mujeres

Por La Raza (Women for the People Conference), the first national Chicana conference, served as a critical counterpublic where Tejanas raised the issues of sexual freedom and reproductive justice within the context of anti-Mexican racism in the Texas borderlands.

Bringing together 600 Chicanas from across the nation, La Conferencia generated interest and uncovered challenges in mapping a national feminist agenda. Scholars have underscored

11 Marisela R. Chávez underscores how Francisca Flores and other women of her generation began tackling ethnic Mexican women’s socio-economic plight during World War II in the League of Mexican- American Women and continued forward as seasoned activists who collaborated with Chicana youth to form the successful national service organization Comisión Feminil Mexicana Nacional in 1970. Marisela R. Chávez, “We Have a Long and Beautiful History’: Chicana Feminist Trajectories and Legacies,” in No Permanent Waves: Recasting Histories of U.S. Feminism, ed. Nancy A. Hewitt (New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 2010): 77-97.

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the fault lines among Chicanas at La Conferencia by pointing out that 150 attendees walked out on the last day. For instance, historian David Montejano characterizes the walk out as

Chicanas prioritizing the battle against the gabacho (white supremacy) over criticisms of the macho (sexism within the Chicana/o Movement).12 Often discussed alongside the NYLC

Chicana workshop, La Conferencia has been largely painted as a battle between loyalists and feminists.13 For these scholars, the disagreements at La Conferencia prove that Chicanas were unable to define a distinct brand of women of color feminism and that this rift led

Chicanas to forge separate women’s organizations in order to actualize their feminist agendas.

However, by placing the focus on what Tejanas were doing, we can see that the contestation at La Conferencia was more complex than prioritizing the fight against the gabacho over the macho. For Tejanas—who grounded their community feminisms in their personal experiences with defacto segregation—counterpublics were spaces that aligned with their activism in the Chicana/o Movement. That is, autonomous zones were separate, but not separatist. In fact, Tejanas refused to disentangle ethnic and gender self-determination and used the conference not only to address sexual concerns, but to also tackle the intrusion of

Anglo institutions in the barrio. Carving spaces within and beyond the movimiento, Tejanas labored to merge anti-racism and anti-sexism. An important counterpublic, La Conferencia

12 David Montejano, Quixote Soldiers: A Local History of the Chicano Movement, 1966-1981 (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2010).

13 For more on the loyalist versus feminist analyses of La Conferencia, see Ignacio García, Chicanismo: The Forging of a Militant Ethos among Mexican Americans (Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1997) and Armando Navarro, Mexican American Youth Organization: Avante-Garde of the Chicano Movement in Texas (Austin: University of Texas Press), 1995.

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allowed Tejanas to address sexual freedom and reproductive justice while affirming their commitment to community-controlled institutions.

Sexual liberation dominated discussions among nueva Tejanas at La Conferencia.

Barrio MAYO leaders Yolanda Garza Birdwell and Gloria Guardiola facilitated the “Sex and the Chicana” workshop session, which focused on embracing a woman’s right to sexual pleasure and eradicating Chicana sexual exploitation. Garza Birdwell and Guardiola prepared for the workshop by interviewing ethnic Mexican women in the Northside of Houston and publishing their findings in a bilingual booklet, La Mujer: Destruccion de Mitos: Formación y Practica del Pensamento Libre (The Woman: Destruction of Myths: Formation and

Practice of Free Thinking). This booklet, handed out to workshop attendees, tackled cultural and social attitudes that they believed kept Tejanas oppressed and advocated for the mental, physical, and spiritual liberation of Tejanas.14 Based on their research and in accordance with their nueva Tejana ethos, Garza Birdwell and Guardiola contended that ethnic Mexican women “must do away” with “the myth that sex is bad, shameful, and that its only purpose is for the reproduction of humanity.”15

They wrote that:

the myth still persists in our Raza that the man is free and allowed to have sexual desires and satisfy them, while the woman who does the same, is considered a sinner. That myth must be destroyed. All people, men and women, have a right to their desires, passions and should have the same rights to satisfy those desires. Sex is a human desire and we should forget the myth that it is ‘bad,’ that it is a ‘sin;’ especially before marriage.16

14 Gloria Guardiola and Yolanda Garza Birdwell, La Mujer: Destruccion de Mitos: Formacion y Practica del Pensamento Libre [The Woman: Destruction of Myths: Formation and Practice of Fee Thinking] (Houston, TX, 1971): iv.

15 Guardiola and Garza Birdwell, La Mujer, 34.

16 Ibid.

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Guardiola and Garza Birdwell promoted mental liberation and the dismantling of ingrained cultural and religious sexual mores that restricted the open expression of female sexuality. For Garza Birdwell, Tejana sexual awareness was critical even if more traditional ethnic Mexican women were scandalized by the discussion. She was convinced that “a woman had to treat her body as a temple” and that if Tejanas allow “somebody to have sex that’s fine but not without her consent.”17 After being encouraged by Garza Birdwell and

Guardiola to meditate on the concept of virginity and sexual awareness, more than one hundred workshop participants collectively declared that Chicanas and Chicanos should embrace sex as good and healthy for women and men, and refused to endorse the myth that religion and culture control Chicanas’ sexual lives.18 In La Mujer: Destruccion de Mitos,

Garza Birdwell and Guardiola contended that intra-ethnic sexual transformation required nuevo Chicanos who believed that “sex is a physical need, which is inherent in all human beings.” In fact, a few MAYO men advocated working alongside mujeres to eradicate the idea “that it is immoral to indulge in sex outside of the norms regulated by society.”19 Alex

Rodriguez and Gregory Salazar, in particular, championed women’s liberation within barrio

MAYO. Rodriguez recalls asserting that “women hold up half the sky” and that Tejanos could not “talk about the liberation of our people without saying that without women, [there] would be no people.”20 This belief in women’s equality translated into Tejano allies

17 Yolanda Garza Birdwell, interview by Ernesto Valdes, audio recording, May 4, 2007, Oral History of Houston Project, University of Houston, Houston, TX.

18 “The Chicana and Sex Princicpal Points,” Yolanda Garza Birdwell Personal Collection.

19 Guardiola and Garza Birdwell, La Mujer, 30.

20 Alex Rodriguez, interview by author, audio recording, May 4, 2015, Houston, TX.

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reconceptualizing sexual mores in the ethnic Mexican culture. Salazar was one of the nuevo

Tejanos who was interviewed for La Mujer: Destruccion de Mitos. He stated that virginity was “a myth which should be destroyed because it has no relevance to the worth and capability of a woman.”21 That is, whether or not a woman was a virgin had no bearing upon her role in the community.

Tejana examination of sexual freedom in the protest era, and in the autonomous zone of La Conferencia, reflects a long tradition of ethnic Mexican women defying cultural and religious sexual mores. Historian Vicki Ruiz notes that, in the 1930s and 1940s, unmarried ethnic Mexican women rebelled against and negotiated parental regulation of their actions and attitudes.22 During the early twentieth century, the development of entertainment spaces along with the allure of U.S. popular culture shaped ethnic Mexican youth’s style and activities. In particular, the flapper style of the 1920s—short hair, make-up, bloomers, swimwear, and short skirts—generated controversy in an ethnic community where family honor was tied to women’s purity. Sexual transgressions not only resulted in personal shaming, but also the dishonoring of the entire family. Ruiz asserts that ethnic Mexican women were “expected to uphold certain standards” as “guardians of traditional culture.”23

Accordingly, mothers, fathers, and older relatives chaperoned, or monitored, young ethnic

21 Guardiola and Garza Birdwell, La Mujer, 30.

22 Ruiz, From Out of the Shadows, 51-71. For more on ethnic Mexican cultural and religious sexual mores, see Andaldúa, Borderlands; Irene I. Blea, La Chicana and the Intersection of Race, Class, and Gender (Santa Barbara: Praeger, 1991); Alma Garcia, “The Development of a Feminist Discourse, 1970-1980,” Gender and Society 3:2 (1989): 217-238; Aida Hurdado, Voicing Chicana Feminisms: Young Women Speak Out on Sexuality and Identity (New York: New York University Press, 2003); Alfredo Mirandé and Evangelina Enriquez, La Chicana: The Mexican-American Woman (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1979); Cherrie Moraga, Loving in the War Years: Lo Que Nunca Paso por Sus Labios (Boston: South End Press, 1983); and Rodriguez, Next of Kin.

23 Ruiz, From Out of the Shadows, 54.

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Mexican women at dancehalls, movie theatres, and social events. However, ethnic Mexican women challenged sexual mores by leaving their family homes or moving in with their boyfriends. Other women negotiated sexual customs by sneaking out or devising elaborate plans in order to freely socialize with men.

In the 1960s and 1970s, ethnic Mexican women were still grappling with cultural and religious sexual traditions. In particular, Marianismo defined the contours of what a good woman embodied. Social psychologist Aída Hurtado describes Marianismo as the

“veneration of the Virgin Mary,” or La Virgin de Guadalupe in the Mexican Catholic context.24 She further asserts that the belief in virginity until marriage and the devotion to la familia were the cornerstones of Marianismo. Chicana activists railed against the imposed sexual constraints of Marianismo. In the “Sex and the Chicana” workshop, mujeres resolved that “no religious institution should have the authority to sanction what is moral or immoral between a man and a woman.”25 Chicanas asserted that religious mores should not govern their sexual expressions. The candid discussions in the “Sex and the Chicana” workshop not only allowed Chicanas to embrace their sexuality, but also refute the cultural and religious morality of Marianismo.

While ethnic Mexican women were subject to cultural and religious mores, such sexual repression was found not only in Chicana/o community values, but also aligned with and reflected dominant Anglo patriarchal notions of women’s virtues. In the protest era,

Anglo feminists mounted their own resistance to legal and social codes that had controlled

24 Hurtado, Voicing Chicana Feminisms, 15.

25 Jennie V. Chavez, “Women of the Mexican American Movement,” Mademoiselle, April, 1972, 152.

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women’s sexuality since the 1800s. Referred to as the Cult of True Womanhood, mid- nineteenth century U.S. Anglo women were expected to adhere to prescribed gender virtues or risked religious and social persecution. Historian Barbara Welter notes that a core virtue of the Cult of True Womanhood was purity, in which “the marriage night was the single great event of a woman’s life, when she bestowed her greatest treasure upon her husband.”26

Examining nineteenth-century Anglo writings on women, Welter contends that the absence of purity was considered unnatural and unfeminine and those guilty of becoming fallen women suffered madness or death. Historians John D’Emilio and Estelle Freedmen note that the late-nineteenth century moralists were guided by the idea that middle-class white women were innately asexual. They further assert that some white women adhered to sexual purity in order to leverage their morality and limit marital sex to reproduction.27

Anglo patriarchal notions of sexual innocence continued to hold currency into the

1950s. Anglo middle-class women in the mid-twentieth century contended with the reassertion of the Cult of True Womanhood virtues in an environment where women’s labor was no longer required after World War II. Social scientists, psychologists, and the mass media perpetuated the centrality of women’s role to the maintenance of the domestic duties and women’s sexuality to the biological function of procreation.28 In the 1960s and 1970s, radical Anglo feminists responded to restrictive sexual mores by asserting control over their

26 Barbara Welter, “The cult of True Womanhood: 1820-1860,” American Quarterly 18:2 (1996): 154.

27 John D’Emilio and Estelle Freedman, Intimate Matters: A History of Sexuality in America, 3rd ed. (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2012), 70-71.

28 Betty Friedan coined the term “feminine mystique” to describe the ways middle-class Anglo women in the post-World War II era felt incomplete despite being married, raising children, and having economic security. For these women, being restricted to the duties of housework and motherhood did not allow for the fullness of their identities. Betty Friedan, The Feminine Mystique (New York: W.W. Norton, 1963).

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own bodies. For example, they published a candid and foundational manifesto on women’s sexual health, titled Women and Their Bodies: A Course, and participated in-group vaginal self-exams.29 Radical Anglo women’s sexual health advocacy and sexual freedom were a part of the broader personal politics and self-help movements where women collectively confronted the ways heteropatriarchy shaped their everyday lives, including how male domination fueled sexual inadequacy. For radical Anglo feminists, it was imperative that sexual liberation involved women reclaiming knowledge of their anatomies and rejecting the notion that “women are sexually passive.”30

As radical Anglo feminists were cultivating a sexual revolution in the protest era,

Tejanas resisted dominant and intra-ethnic gender repression by forging sexual freedom based on their experiences and on their own terms. That is, Tejanas utilized counterpublic conference spaces not only to tackle sexual mores, but also work towards transforming how sexuality and power operated in the Chicana/o Movement. Tejanas resisted the notion that they were mere groupies—potential sexual conquests that should not be perceived as serious political activists. Maria Jiménez asserts that many Tejanos in the movimiento tended to reserve respect for virgins, real or imagined.31 She attributes her leadership role in MAYO, and later La Raza Unida Party (LRUP), in part to men not perceiving her as a potential

29 Women and Their Bodies: A Course (Boston: Boston Women’s Health Collective, 1970). For more on radical Anglo feminist sexual actualization, see Alice Echols, Daring to Be Bad: Radical Feminism in America, 1967-1975 (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1989); Sara Evans, Personal Politics: the Roots of Women’s Liberation in the Civil Rights Movement and the New Left (New York: Vintage, 1979); Jane Gerhard, Desiring Revolution: Second-Wave Feminism and The Rewriting of American Sexual Thought, 1920 to 1982 (New York: Columbia University Press, 2001); and Michelle Murphy, “Immodest Witnessing: The Epistemology of Vaginal Self-Examination in the U.S. Feminist Self-Health Movement,” Feminist Studies 30:1 (2004): 115-147.

30 Women and their Bodies, 38.

31 Maria Jiménez, interview by author, video recording, February 25, 2012, Oral History of Houston Project, University of Houston, Houston, TX.

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partner.32 While Tejanas had allies who embraced nuevo Tejano attitudes of gender and sexual equality, they still had to contend with male activists who possessed heteropatriarchal conceptions of Tejana purity. Understanding the sexual power relations in the Chicana/o

Movement that favored Tejanos, Jiménez advised Tejanas: “if you want the men to pay attention to you, don’t sleep with them.”33 While Inés Hernández Tovar dated male activists, she remembers that “when [Jiménez] said something, everyone paid attention because she did not have a relationship with any of [the men]” and that other mujeres were “seen as the compañera of so and so.”34 Hernández Tovar also witnessed how sexually active Tejanas were labeled as loose women and held in lower esteem by Tejanos. Indeed, one of the principal resolutions of the “Sex and the Chicana” workshop was the declaration that “the most vital function of a woman is to develop her mind,” and that “sex, by itself, makes a limited contribution to the development of the total personality.”35 For Tejana community feminists invested in the fight for ethnic self-determination, sexual encounters were thoughtfully navigated in order to resist marginalization in the movimiento.

The autonomous zone of La Conferencia also allowed mujeres to delve into the issue of birth control and legal abortions as it related to sexual liberation. The discussions around family planning at the meeting spurred a Tejana reproductive agenda that aligned with and departed from Anglo feminists, and that reflected the specificity of the their experiences.

Central to Anglo female sexual liberation was the access to both contraceptives and safe

32 Jiménez, interview.

33 Inés Hernández-Avila, interview by author, audio recording, January 19, 2015, phone interview.

34 Hernández-Avila, interview.

35 “The Chicana and Sex Principle Points,” Yolanda Garza Birdwell Personal Collection.

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abortions. Radical Anglo feminists labored toward a gender independence that “freed women from their traditional roles” in the family unit so that they could devote all of their “resources and energies in meaningful and creative activity.”36 Seeking to develop an environment for their children that was democratic and “where the relationships between people [were] those of equal human beings,” radical Anglo feminists called for a sexual freedom where women

“could choose when they will have children,” including the “dissemination of birth control information and devices to all women regardless of age and martial status” and “the availability of a competent medical abortion for all women who so desire.”37 Tejanas similarly embraced birth control as a form of sexual liberation. Irma Mireles recalls how access to birth control facilitated ethnic Mexican women’s control of their bodies and their responsibilities:

I remember how my mom suffered and worried about having one child after another and I knew there had to be something else to all this. By that time, the pill had come around, and I knew some of my friends were taking the pill, but I thought it was their right. If a man can be free to do whatever so should a woman and like that she can do whatever she wants to do. At that time I was fine with [reproductive rights] in regards women taking the pill and a woman having her own rights.38

During her tenure as student government president, Jiménez collaborated with Anglo feminists to establish a health clinic at UH that provided much-needed wellness exams and contraceptives for students. As a woman of color from a working-class background, Jiménez was intimately aware that Tejanas had limited access to birth control. In addition to cultural

36 Evans, Personal Politics, 240. For more on Anglo feminists’ fights for birth control and legal abortions, see Echols, Daring to Be Bad and Gerhard, Desiring Revolution.

37 Evans, Personal Politics, 241.

38 Irma Mireles, interview by author, audio recording, October 16, 2014, San Antonio, TX.

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sexual mores that embraced purity and virginity, birth control was prohibitively expensive and difficult to acquire for Tejanas who had finite economic resources and inadequate access to healthcare due to structural racism. The launching of the UH women’s clinic greatly benefited Tejana students. Louise Villejo remembers that mujeres “could not have really managed through that time without…the clinic on campus,” which was a reliable source of contraceptives.39

While Tejana community feminists advocated for birth control as a means of controlling their own bodies, the historical racialization of ethnic Mexicans in the borderlands informed their attitudes toward abortion. Guardiola and Garza Birdwell contended in the “Sex and the Chicana” workshop booklet that Tejanas should “[prevent] pregnancies rather than [have] abortions.” They made exceptions for abortions when pregnancy affected a woman’s health, there was a risk of birthing a deformed child, or when a Tejana was “physically and psychologically prepared to undergo an abortion,” as the decision to do so was ultimately hers to make.40 As advocates for sexual freedom as well as racial liberation, Guardiola and Garza Birdwell stood against “government agencies and social welfare agencies [dictating] to people how many children they should have” and argued that “if a man and a woman are able to care for their children and want to have them, recognizing their responsibilities, they should have as many as they want.”41

Guardiola’s and Garza Birdwell’s assertions reflected Tejana community feminists’ feelings towards abortion as a contentious issue marred by institutional racism. The legacy of

39 Louise Villejo, interview by author, audio recording, January 9, 2015, Houston, TX.

40 Guardiola and Garza Birdwell, La Mujer, 38.

41 Ibid.

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forced sterilization and state control of Brown bodies galvanized Tejanas to focus their energy towards broad reproductive justice. Race and gender scholar Angela Davis confirms that abortion movement had been “known to advocate sterilization—a racist form of mass

“birth control.”42 She further asserts that women of color were in favor of abortion rights, but were not proponents of abortion. For Davis, the abortion campaign “often failed to provide a voice for women who wanted the right to legal abortions while deploring the social conditions that prohibited them from bearing more children.”43 During the campaign to end the open immigration policy with Mexico in the late-1920s, ethnic Mexican women became the embodiment of social dependency. As the ethnic Mexican population mushroomed, immigration restrictionists highlighted examples of ethnic Mexican women “who gave birth to up to five children while on welfare” and stated that “members of these families suffered from diseases such as tuberculosis” and thus, became a burden on hospital resources.44 These racist conceptions of ethnic Mexican mothers fueled the deportation and repatriation campaigns of the 1930s. Historian Natalia Molina notes that the preoccupation with ethnic

Mexican birth rates was not only about competition in workforce, but more importantly,

42 Angela Davis, Women Race, and Class (New York: Vintage Books, 1981), 203. For more on the racialization of women of color and institutional sexual violence, see Adele Clarke, “Subtle Sterilization Abuse: A Reproductive Rights Perspective,” in Test Tube Women: What Future for Motherhood?, eds. Rita Arditti et al. (Boston: Pandora/Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1984), 188-212; Adelaida Del Castillo, “Sterilization: A Overview,” in Mexican Women in the United States: Struggles Past and Present, eds. Magdelena Mora and Adelaida Del Castillo (Los Angeles: Chicano Studies Research Center, UCLA, 1980), 65-70; Virginia Espino, “‘Woman Sterilized As Gives Birth’: Forced Sterilization and Chicana Resistance in the 1970s,” in Las Obreras: Chicana Politics of Work and Family, ed. Vicki Ruiz (Los Angeles: Chicano Studies Research Center Publications, UCLA, 2000), 65-82. Elena Gutiérrez, Fertile Matters: The Politics of Mexican-Origin Women’s Reproduction (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2008); Iris Lopez, Matters of Choices: Puerto Rican Women’s Struggle for Reproductive Freedom (New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 2008); Natalia Molina, Fit to be Citizens?: Public Health and Race in Los Angeles, 1879-1939 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2006); and Andrea Smith, Conquest: Sexual Violence and American Indian Genocide (Durham: Duke University Press, 2015).

43 Davis, Women, Race, and Class, 205.

44 Molina, Fit to be Citizens?, 144.

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about how a growing ethnic Mexican population would shape the nation. She further states that the image of the impoverished, fertile ethnic Mexican woman sparked “eugenicist thought and sterilization in the early to mid-twentieth century.”45 In California, a hotbed of eugenic leaders and organizations, ethnic Mexicans were cast as feeble-minded or degenerates in order to justify eugenic sterilization. Once sterilized, ethnic Mexicans were often deported.

The most flagrant instances of ethnic Mexican eugenic sterilization occurred at the

Los Angeles County Medical Center (LCMC) in the 1960s and 1970s. According to historian

Virginia Espino, Chicana activists in this protest era effectively organized at the grassroots level to tackle the issue of forced sterilization at LCMC.46 Chicanas organizations in

California including the Chicana Welfare Rights Organization and Comisión Femenil played a central role in the class action lawsuit against LCMC, Madrigal vs. Quilligan, as they believed that “sterilization was being imposed upon the more vulnerable member of their community” and that reproductive rights “also meant the right to reproduce.”47 The 1975

Madrigal vs. Quilligan case revealed that doctors and staff at LCMC routinely coerced poor, undocumented, Spanish-speaking ethnic Mexican women into receiving IUDs and tubal ligation.

45 Molina, Fit to be Citizens?, 146. Leader of the birth control movement, Margaret Sanger initially framed family planning through the socialist lens of working women having the right to plan and space their pregnancies. However, Sanger eventually cut her ties with the Socialist party and built a birth control campaign couched in anti-Black and anti-immigrant ideology. This struggle embraced eugenic beliefs that the fit should have more children and the unfit, often read as Black and immigrants, should have less, even if it meant forced sterilization. For more on Margaret Sanger’s birth control movement, see Davis, Women, Race, and Class.

46 Virginia Espino, “‘Woman Sterilized As Gives Birth.’”

47 Espino, “‘Woman Sterilized As Gives Birth,’” 80.

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In the same vein as Chicanas in California, Tejanas crafted a reproductive justice agenda in counterpublics in the 1970s. Tejanas witnessed the persistence of racist doctors, cultural insensitivity, and lack of bilingual health institutions that collectively created an environment ripe for forced serializations.48 Sociologist Elena Gutiérrez contends that the continued racialization of ethnic Mexican women in the South as breeders fueled population control campaigns aimed at sterilizing Chicanas in the late-twentieth century.49 She points out that a 1969 University of Texas sociological study on the fertility behavior of ethnic

Mexican women focused on cultural pathology as the salient variable contributing to high ethnic Mexican birth rates. Funded in part by the National Institutes of Child Health and

Human Development of the U.S. Public Health Service and contracted as a report for the

Commission on Population Growth and the American Future, this Austin fertility study shaped research findings on ethnic Mexican fertility throughout the 1970s and bolstered the othering of ethnic Mexican women as culturally different and inferior.50 Aiming to meet the health needs of La Raza and prevent the forced sterilization of ethnic Mexican women,

Tejanas resolved to fight for community-controlled clinics.51 That is, they wanted clinics staffed by Tejanas/os and responsive to the needs of the community, including bilingualism, contraceptives, and cultural healing practices.

48 Ana Nieto-Gomez, “La Feminista,” Encuentro Feminil 1:2 (1994): 34-37.

49 Gutiérrez, Fertile Matters.

50 Gutiérrez, Fertile Matters, 62-63.

51 Resolution-Chicana Crisis Center, n.d., Box 9, Folder 2, Martha P. Cotera Papers, International Women’s Year, 1977, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries.

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For Tejana community feminists, La Conferencia provided the space necessary to dissect critical issues like sexuality and reproductive rights, and generate core feminist principles. In dialogue with local, regional, and national mujeres, Tejanas forged their own brand of feminism that merged anti-racism and anti-sexism. They not only tackled dominant and cultural sexual mores, but also addressed birth control and abortion from a sexual freedom and reproductive justice standpoint. This counterpublic was parallel to movimiento activism. While Tejanas participated in women’s spaces to solidify their emergent feminist thought, they remained committed to racial liberation. Their experiences as ethnic Mexican women in the South informed their dual commitment to race and gender liberation. Tejanas represented ethnic self-determination concerns within their autonomous zones, as evidenced by their response to the protest at La Conferencia.

La Conferencia and the Fight for Community-Controlled Institutions

While La Conferencia served as a critical counterpublic for defining feminist concerns, Tejanas were mutually committed to community-controlled institutions as a pathway to liberation. That is, actualizing ethnic self-determination through the creation of

Brown institutions was equally as important as attaining gender liberation, and while they cultivated parallel counterpublics, Tejanas never perceived their race and gender goals as separate. For example, Tejanas in MAYO had a record of fighting for a community-informed education where local schools met the needs of ethnic Mexican youth, including the establishment of bilingual and bicultural education as discussed in the previous chapter.

Tejanas were also dedicated to establishing community-controlled institutions in the barrio that adequately addressed neighborhood issues such as child hunger. The loyalist vs. feminist

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focus in the scholarship on La Conferencia has obscured the multiple reasons why ethnic

Mexican women expressed discontent at the meeting, including Tejanas’ unwavering commitment to ethnic self-determination. Examining the walk out at La Conferencia in the context of the battle for community-controlled institutions reveals how Tejanas consistently affirmed their dedication to racial liberation within women’s spaces, even as they used counterpublic spaces to continue to hone their feminist ideology.

La Conferencia was billed as a national gathering for Chicanas to define women’s individual and collective role in the movimiento. However, the inadequate coordination and

Anglo presence at the conference stirred discontent. On the last day of La Conferencia, disagreements reached a fever pitch. Chicana attendees had issues with registration costs, feeling as though “the women running [the meeting] wanted no suggestions or criticism from anyone,” and securing housing and promised travel grants “that never arrived.”52

Unfortunately, La Conferencia was a logistical nightmare for the many eager to shape the trajectory of Chicana feminism. For example, Chicanas were provided meager or no accommodations, and many were not included in the planning of the conference. More important, Chicanas lamented the absence of barrio women, believing that the core organizers “were middle-class women” who failed to realize that “most of [the community] work had been down in the barrio with working-class families” and “working-class women.”53 In response to the middle-class charge, conference organizer Elma Barrera later asserted:

52 Carmen Hernandez, “Conferencia de Mujeres Por La Raza: Carmen Speaks Out,” Papel Chicano, June 12, 1971.

53 Maria Jiménez, interview by Maria Cotera, video recording, August 31, 2012, Chicana Por Mi Raza Digital Archive, University of Illinois—Urbana Champaign, Champaign, IL.

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It was only barrio women that organized that conference. Marta Moreno still lives in the barrio down the street from the ‘Y.’ Lucy Moreno, her sister in law, married to Marta’s brother, very active in community work, very Chicana, always working her ass off for the cause. Stella Borrego, a social worker, devoting most of her time in the programs of the poor. She works at Ripley House, the barrio right next to Magnolia, where people don’t make much over 4-5 thousand a year for a family of 6 or 7 kids. Me, born in West Texas, cuando andaban mis padres en las piscas en el West [when my parents worked in the fields in the West]. I could have been born in California, where they also migrated to pick peaches. Raised mostly in trucks and cotton fields.54

For Barrera, the fact that core organizers “did not look the part of barrio women” did not mean that they did not relate to the experience of poor women of color, as their professional careers and personal upbringing connected them to the barrio.55 While the middle-class perception belied the working-class background of conference committee members, the disorganization, lack of women from the local community, and Anglo presence all generated distrust towards the organizers and sparked protest. Taking a stand, 150 of the 600 conference participants—including MAYO mujeres—walked out and resumed workshops as well as resolutions with working-class ethnic Mexican women at the nearby Zavala Park.

Reframing La Conferencia through the lens of ethnic self-determination, the walk-out underscores the ways Tejanas merged anti-racism and anti-sexism. Tejana community feminists who protested La Conferencia held strong reservations about a Chicana meeting convened at the Young Women’s Christian Association (YWCA), a gringo (white) institution with a racist legacy.56 In this reframing, Tejanas’ lived experiences in Houston and

54 Anna Nieto-Gomez and Elma Barrera, “Chicana Encounter,” Regeneration 2, no. 4 (1975): 50-51.

55 Nieto-Gomez and Barrera, “Chicana Encounter,” 51. In addition to Elma Barrera, Marta Moreno, Lucy Moreno, and Stella Borrego, the central committee included Blanche Flores, Ana Guerrero, Connie Acosta, Marie Bandin, and Sarah Bael. An Orientation to: La Conferencia de Mujeres por la Raza, February 1971, Box 1, Folder 1, Lucy R. Moreno Collection, Conferencia de Mujeres Por La Raza, Houston YWCA, 28- 30 May 1971, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries.

56 Gloria Guardiola and Yolanda Garza Birdwell, “Conferencia de Mujeres Por La Raza: Gloria and Yolanda Point of View,” Papel Chicano, June 12, 1971.

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the South mattered significantly. In 1931, ethnic Mexican women launched El Club

Femenino Chapultepec (The Chapultepec Women’s Club) within the segregated YWCA, seeking to create the first social organization in Houston dedicated to the needs of ethnic

Mexicans. Historian Tyina Steptoe notes that while the founders’ light complexion and class background granted them access to the white YWCA, Anglo women initially resisted the formation of El Club Femenino Chapultepec (CFC). They “cited religion as the primary reason for their hesitation,” wondering whether ethnic Mexican Catholics could fit within the organization’s structure.57 Once established, CFC hosted ethnic Mexican celebrations and cultural presentations to both affirm their roots and bridge ethnic Mexican and Anglo relations in the city. Intimately aware the racial landscape of the 1930s, CFC members adopted LULAC’s civil rights strategy of assimilation and whiteness. Entrenched anti-

Mexican sentiment in Houston, however, undermined their mission of proving “that [they] could be good Americans, not just Mexican girls.”58 Historian Emma Pérez describes

Depression-era Houston as a place steeped in racial tension, where Anglos perceived ethnic

Mexicans as drunkards and troublemakers and English-language newspapers “reported news about Mexicans only when knifings, murders, and criminal acts were committed.”59 No longer willing to be silent about issues confronting the Tejana/o community, CFC members

57 Tyina L. Steptoe, Houston Bound: Culture and Color in a Jim Crow City (Oakland: University of California Press, 2016), 127. For more on the formation of El Club Femenino Chapultepec, see Arnoldo De León, Ethnicity in the Sunbelt: Mexican Americans in Houston (College Station: Texas A&M University Press, 2001); Thomas H. Kreneck, Del Pueblo: A History of Houston’s Hispanic Community (College Station: Texas A&M University Press, 2012); and Pérez, The Decolonial Imaginary.

58 Estela Gómez, interview by Thomas Kreneck, audio recording, June 8, 1979, Houston Metropolitan Research Center, Houston, TX.

59 Pérez, Decolonial Imaginary, Kindle Edition, location 1306.

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Estela Gómez and Carmen Cortés drafted “The Letter from Chapultepec.”60 The letter outlined ten points addressing anti-Mexican racism in the borderlands. Gómez and Cortés pointed out that patriotic activities reminded Texans that they “lost a tragic battle at the

[A]lamo in San Antonio and won a battle at San Jacinto,” causing teachers to preach a

“patriotism not kind to Mexican children” and compelling ethnic Mexicans to “stay out of school [in Houston] when that part of history was being taught.”61 Moreover, the hostile environment of the South compelled ethnic Mexicans to “not take out citizenship papers because those who [had were] still called Mexicans and treated as such.”62 In terms of housing, Gómez and Cortés stated that Tejanas/os found it “impossible to rent or buy in any decent section of [Houston]” and thus, were “forced to live in dirty crowded conditions.”63

Furthering their marginalization, ethnic Mexicans were falsely “accused of crimes in the city,” were “paid less wages in all jobs,” and “many jobs and industries [were] closed to them.”64

The Chapultepec letter resonated with the African American branch of the YWCA.

They not only gained permission from Gómez and Cortés to publicize the letter in their organization’s magazine, Occasional Papers, but also penned a letter addressing their own problems. This moment of cross-racial understanding was soon overshadowed by the negative response from the Anglo national leaders of the YWCA, who condemned the letter

60 Thomas H. Kreneck, “The Letter from Chapultepec,” The Houston Review 3, no. 2 (Summer 1981): 269-271.

61 Kreneck, “The Letter from Chapultepec,” 270.

62 Ibid.

63 Ibid.

64 Ibid.

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for being political and unsuited for a recreational institution. The national YWCA’s unwillingness to support CFC’s letter and seriously address anti-Mexican racism had devastating consequences for CFC members. As Pérez notes, CFC was accused of having communist sentiments during a YWCA youth conference and Gómez was harassed by the

FBI for several years following the publication of the letter.65 The response from the Anglo leadership of YMCA reveals how the institution actively thwarted ethnic Mexican women’s efforts to confront racial discrimination in the Juan Crow and Jim Crow South. Although

CFC members appealed to whiteness and sought to improve Mexican-Anglo relations, their social capital was quickly devalued when they courageously addressed the ethnic Mexican plight. Aware of YMCA’s racist history, Tejana community feminists had good reason to feel apprehensive about the “Y” hosting La Conferencia.

Similar to the CFC decades earlier, in the 1960s and 1970s, Tejanas were invested in constructing their own institutions in the barrio and meeting the needs of the community within their female-defined spaces. Accordingly, they demonstrated against the convening of

La Conferncia at YMCA. Jiménez, who was among those who walked out, recalls that

Tejanas chose to protest because movimiento activists were in the process of questioning

Anglo establishments in ethnic Mexican enclaves.66 She argued, “MAYO and La Raza Unida was about community control. So here we have a YWCA convening a conference. It was not controlled by the community but by an exterior force and there was a committee of Latinas

65 Pérez, Decolonial Imaginary, Kindle Edition, location 1370.

66 Jiménez, interview by author.

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that organized the conference. . . .[but] from our perspective, it was still an Anglo institution convening us.”67

Conference workshop leader Garza Birdwell also understood the resistance to the

YMCA. She was a principal actor in the recent fight to acquire a community-controlled institution in the ethnic Mexican Northside. A year prior to La Conferencia, barrio MAYO seized an abandoned Anglo Presbyterian church in Houston’s Northside and transformed it into the Northside People’s Center. In the weeks leading up to the take over, barrio MAYO attempted to negotiate with church representatives who ultimately refused to hand over the building for the purpose of creating a self-determined social service institution. Garza

Birdwell, barrio MAYO leader and spokesperson, handed a letter to the local Presbyterian pastor days before the occupation that declared: “MAYO will take the appropriate action to insure the interests of the community are not neglected. Every day a decision is delayed, a

Northside resident goes hungry or is pushed out of school. We can wait no longer. The time to act is now.”68 Garnering the support of local ethnic Mexicans and UH MAYO, barrio

MAYO launched community programs and created space for neighborhood residents to participate in social justice groups such as the Houston Welfare Rights Organization.69

Neighborhood residents fulfilled barrio MAYO’s vision of a community-controlled space by organizing and preparing a daily free breakfast program for youth. Prior to the seizure,

“many of the children did not eat until lunch” and “some of them did not have lunch

67 Jiménez, interview by Maria Cotera.

68 MAYO Liberates Church, Box 53, Folder 9, José Angel Gutiérrez Papers, Houston MAYO Clippings, 1970, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries.

69 No Author, “Church Plans Legal Action on Chicanos,” Houston Chronicle, February 27, 1971.

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either.”70 The local fight for self-determined spaces was fresh in Jiménez’s mind when she decided to walk out of the YWCA and resume La Conferencia at Zavala Park:

Part of it was because, for those of us who were active in the Chicana/o Movement, we had been challenging institutions in Houston. Barrio MAYO had taken over the Presbyterian church, challenging the control of an Anglo institution. . . .What I remember about those of us who walked out. . . .it was about a working class position that [respected] community control.

While the contention at La Conferencia has been largely painted as battle over prioritizing anti-racism or anti-sexism, spotlighting the thoughts and actions of Tejana attendees and protestors challenges simplified interpretations of this meeting and of emergent

Tejana feminism. Tejanas who walked out were already involved in feminist campaigns. For

Jiménez and others, it was a matter of gathering in spaces determined by ethnic Mexicans and ensuring that working-class community members were central to the conversations being had. Tejanas who both remained and dissented at the conference continued to merge feminism and ethnic self-determination in subsequent women’s conferences and organizations. They refused to be silent about racial liberation when defining the contours of

Tejana feminist thought, creating their own brand of Texas-based feminism in the process.

Documenting La Chicana and Expanding Opportunities in Women’s Organizations

Within a year after La Conferencia, conference protestor Evey Chapa began brainstorming with Martha Cotera about launching self-determined organizational counterpublics aimed at bolstering Chicana studies and facilitating ethnic Mexican women’s occupational and political access. According to Cotera, conferences and conference resolutions fueled Tejanas’ mission “to structure the vehicles for action, communication, and

70 MAYO Liberates Church, Box 53, Folder 9, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections. 126

program implementation” through women’s organizations.71 In these autonomous zones,

Tejanas developed a clearinghouse on Chicana scholarship and generated cooperative spaces for the purpose of expanding ethnic Mexican women’s opportunities. The Chicana Research and Learning Center (CRLC) and the Mexican American Business and Professional

Women’s Association (MABPWA) served as critical counterpublic sites for gathering scholarship on Chicanas and collectively empowering ethnic Mexican women.

Over span of two years, from 1972 to 1974, Chapa and Cotera gathered input from women of color in Texas, California, Washington D.C., and the Midwest for the purpose of enumerating “areas of concern,” ensuring “legal requirements were fulfilled” to gain tax- exempt status, and developing program areas.72 The fruit of this labor was the creation of

CRLC as an activist service and training organization. This women’s organization initially tackled three distinct barriers to ethnic Mexican women attaining a minimum living standard for themselves: sex discrimination compounded by “biases against cultural and linguistic differences;” prescribed cultural gender roles that caused “many social, economic, and educational problems;” and the “lack of accurate [scholarship]” on Chicanas that fueled the creation and perpetuation of negative stereotypes.73 The center also advanced Tejanas’ fight against intra-ethnic sexual oppression, as expressed at La Conferencia, by pointing out that ethnic Mexican women were “burdened with children and responsibility at a very early age,”

71 Martha P. Cotera, Profile on the Mexican American Woman (Austin: Information Systems Development, 1976), 181.

72 Chicana Research and Learning Center, Inc. Annual Report 1988-89, Box 1, Folder 1, Chicana Research and Learning Center Records, Records, 1972-1999, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries.

73 Chicana Research and Learning Center Concept Paper and Capabilities, 1974-1982, Box 1, Folder 5, Chicana Research and Learning Center Records, 1972-1999, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries.

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stunting their economic and educational development.74 Lastly, CRLC conducted consciousness-raising sessions that brought together over 500 ethnic Mexican women to critically analyze male-female power relations.75

Laboring to halt the racialization of ethnic Mexican women, CRLC marshalled resources to create and disseminate social science research on Chicanas. The assemblage of a

Chicana clearinghouse became a core project of CRLC in the mid-1970s. Scholarship on education, employment, history, politics, and social status were critical to the development of

Chicana Studies, which not only challenged the male-centered works in Chicano Studies, but also pushed Women’s Studies to meaningfully conceptualize “the diversity of women’s struggles throughout history and across cultures.”76 As historian Cynthia Orozco notes,

“written works on Chicanas did not emerge mainly from the women’s movement nor from women’s studies.”77 Rather, social science research on Chicanas was published and distributed by women of color organizations like the CRLC. Organizational counterpublics offered Tejanas the capacity to generate their own data on ethnic Mexican women, which could reverse the trend of inaccurate research heavily focused on negative aspects, as well as research that minimized the ethnic Mexican women’s experiences. The center contended that

Tejanas did not “fit into the Chicana/o stereotypes and sex discrimination patterns which the

Anglo society had created” and must be “viewed in their own reality--their existence as

74 Ibid.

75 Teresa Paloma Acosta, “CHICANA RESEARCH AND LEARNING CENTER,” Handbook of Texas Online, Texas State Historical Society, http://www.tshaonline.org/handbook/online/articles/spc01, (accessed March 23, 2015).

76 Cynthia Orozco, “Getting Started in Chicana Studies,” Women’s Studies Quarterly 18:1/2, (Spring to Summer, 1990): 46.

77 Orozco, “Getting Started in Chicana Studies,” 47.

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minority women in poverty-stricken barrios of the nation.”78 Confirming the necessity for robust Chicana scholarship, sociologist Maxine Baca Zinn asserts that:

as a consequence of erroneous assumptions and limited empirical research, Mexican American women have been particularly misconstrued. . .they have been portrayed as long-suffering mothers who are subject to the brutality of insecure husbands and whose function is to produce children—as women who themselves are childlike, simple, and completely dependent on fathers, brothers, and husbands.79

The clearinghouse project of CLRC contributed to the production and distribution of a “wave of revisionist scholarship about minorities and women” that challenged the submissive ethnic Mexican woman stereotype.80 As a community feminist organization,

CRLC focused on ethnic Mexican women research as a means of dismantling discriminatory barriers stifling Chicana and Chicano liberation. Their mission was to disseminate information for the benefit of the collective community in hopes that it would alleviate the

“problems faced by the [Chicana/o] community as a whole.”81

For CRLC, it was critical to conduct research based on the needs as defined by

Chicana academics and community experts, thus ensuring the availability of studies by

Chicanas for Chicanas. Assisting in the development of Chicana studies and laboring toward community liberation, CRLC compiled two major resources. In 1976, CRLC published La

Mujer Chicana: An Annotated Bibliography, which listed 320 materials, published between

1916 and 1975, highlighting twelve areas: Chicana publications, Chicana feminism,

78 Chicana Research and Learning Center Concept Paper and Capabilities, Box 1, Folder 5, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections.

79 Maxine Baca Zinn, “Mexican American Women in the Social Sciences,” Signs 8:2 (Winter 1982): 259. 80 Baca Zinn, “Mexican American Women in the Social Sciences,” 260.

81 Chicana Research and Learning Center Concept Paper and Capabilities, Box 1, Folder 5, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections.

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education, mental and physical health, labor, culture, the family, machismo, politics, social issues, prison, rape, religion, sex-role stereotyping, welfare, youth, and third world women.

The center also focused on the regional status of ethnic Mexican women by publishing La

Mujer Chicana: A Texas Anthology in 1976. Tejanas used these collections in community presentations and lectures to university students. Executive director Chapa incorporated

CRLC materials in her Chicana courses at the University of Texas. Chicanas/os at other universities also “availed themselves of the resources of the Chicana Center.”82 As a result, this Tejana counterpublic was at the forefront of establishing Chicana studies through their research agendas.83 The organization’s broad dissemination campaigns facilitated a robust

Chicana communication network in Texas and throughout the nation.

In addition to documenting and disseminating data by Chicanas for Chicanas, Tejanas cultivated cooperative counterpublics that advanced ethnic Mexican women’s business and professional opportunities. Decades of discriminatory race and gender practices relegated

Tejanas to limited economic and political opportunities.84 Building on their efforts to foster grassroots leadership in educational ethnic self-determination endeavors, community feminists Martha Cotera and Amalia Rodríguez-Mendoza launched the Mexican American

Business and Professional Women of Austin (MABPWA) in 1974 (the same year as the

82 Clearinghouse Functions, Box 1, Folder 5, Chicana Research and Learning Center Records, 1972- 1999, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries.

83 Acosta, “CHICANA RESEARCH AND LEARNING CENTER.”

84 For more on occupational opportunities for ethnic Mexican women in the Southwest, see Maxine Baca Zinn, “Employment and Education of Mexican American Women: The Interplay of Modernity and Ethnicity in Eight Families,” Harvard Educational Review 50:1 (February 1980): 47-62; Mario Barrera, Race and Class in the Southwest: A Theory of Racial Equality (Norte Dame: University of Norte Dame Press, 1979); Albert Camarillo, Chicanos in a Changing Society: From Mexican Pueblos to American Barrios in Santa Barbara and Southern California, 184-1930 (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1979); Martha Cotera, Dios y Hembra: The History and Heritage of Chicanas in the U.S. (Austin: Information Systems Development, 1976); and Vicki Ruiz, From Out of the Shadows.

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formation of the CRLC). Cotera understood that “35 percent of all [Tejanas] age 16 and over

[were] employed or seeking employment,” and “30 percent of married [Tejanas] with a husband at home and children under age six, [worked],” in the mid-1970s.85 However, the cultural perception of Tejanas as only nurturers, and not working women, fueled the placement of Tejanas “on the traditional typing job or low paying sales and factory work” and denied mujeres upward mobility.86 Cotera labored alongside Rodríguez-Mendoza in

MABPWA to facilitate economic equality for Tejanas and improve the overall working-class situation of Tejanas/os. Embracing the principles of caridad, hermandad y humanidad

(charity, sisterhood, and humanity), MABPWA sought to “promote a high level of community involvement among Mexican American business and professional women;”

“become a viable vehicle for expressing the needs and aspirations of the group;” “promote the acquisition of organization skills;” and “effectuate local change affecting Mexican

American women through group action.”87 For MABPWA, it was imperative that business and professional women’s advocacy was grounded in broad community endeavors. The steering committee of the association consisted of Tejanas from diverse income levels, professions, and neighborhoods in Austin. The committee generated a collective “spirit of cooperation among business and professional women” by recruiting poor women, students, secretaries, and professionals.88

85 Cotera, The Chicana Feminist, 23.

86 Cotera, The Chicana Feminist, 24.

87 Mexican American Business and Professional Women of Austin, Box 8 Folder 12, Martha P. Cotera Papers, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries.

88 “MABPWA Formed to Give Women Role in Community,” La Fuerza, June 27, 1974.

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Augmenting their efforts in La Raza Unida Party (discussed in greater detail in

Chapter 4) to transform the entrenched Anglo electoral landscape, Cotera and Rodríguez-

Mendoza cultivated Tejana grassroots political leadership through MABPWA. In addition to voter education seminars and candidate forums, Tejanas were appointed to “serve on city, county, and state boards and commission[s].” 89 Within three years of its founding,

MABPWA claimed to have increased Tejana and Tejano board and commission appointees by six hundred percent. The association also fostered Tejanas’ collective political opportunities by having members prepare written testimony and documentation for the

Austin Commission on the Status of Women, the Texas Commission on the Status of

Women, the city housing ordinance hearings, the Equal Rights Amendment legislative hearings, and the Central Texas Health Systems Agency.90

Nourishing the principle of sisterhood, MABPWA hosted an annual La Semana de la

Mujer Chicana (Chicana Woman Week) where professional and business women were celebrated. The 1977 Semana de la Mujer Chicana heralded Tejana community feminists

María Elena Martinez, Diana Comacho, Cotera, Rodríguez-Mendoza, and Hernández Tovar for their respective work in education, outstanding membership, exemplary contributions as president of the organization, advocacy in the areas of employment and affirmative action public policy, and artistic and cultural expressions.91 La Semana de La Mujer Chicana also featured regional and national Chicana keynote speakers, further honoring feminist and

89 MABPWA Background Information, Box 8, Folder 12, Martha Cotera Papers, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries. 90 MABPWA Specific Accomplishments, Box 8, Folder 12, Martha Cotera Papers, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries.

91 La Semana de La Mujer Chicana, Box 8, Folder 12, Martha Cotera Papers, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries.

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activist trailblazers. These keynote addresses deepened relations among ethnic Mexican women and offered models of community leadership, as Tejanas were connected with women across the nation who spoke on their professional and community accomplishments.

In succeeding years, MABPWA spotlighted Vilma Martinez for her role as president and counselor at the Mexican American Legal Defense Fund, serving on the Board of the

National Committee Against Discrimination and Housing, and her involvement in the

National Council of La Raza, the National Organization for Women Legal Defense and

Education Fund, and the Southwest Voter Registration Education Project. The association also honored Dr. Blandina Cardenas for her labor in the Department of Health, Education, and Welfare’s Administration for Children, Youth, and Families, and recognized Cecilia

Preciado de Burciaga for her service as a commissioner on the President’s Committee on

International Women’s Year.92

Within three years after La Conferencia, Tejanas launched and sustained organizational counterpublics to document their experiences and bolster ethnic Mexican women’s political and economic opportunities. The CRLC facilitated the growth of Chicana studies through the collection, publication, and distribution of Chicana scholarship. By the late 1970s, MABPWA established a robust Chicana network for the purpose of generating grassroots leadership that would advance ethnic Mexican women’s personal and community power. A core facet of Tejana feminist thought was resisting racialization by generating research by Chicanas for Chicanas, ensuring that there were rigorous works centered on ethnic Mexican women. Tejana community feminists also struggled to reverse the trend of ethnic Mexican women’s occupation in the lowest rungs of the economic latter. Both CRLC

92 Ibid.

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and MABPWA were instrumental in transforming one-dimensional images of ethnic

Mexican women.

Counterpublics, Images, and Intergenerational and Multidirectional Feminism

Organizational counterpublics also served as spaces where Tejanas tackled controlling images and testified against oppressive institutional and intra-ethnic archetypes.

These autonomous zones became spaces where Tejanas also fostered a multidirectional and intergenerational feminism, as conversations among seasoned and novice Tejana activists at conferences were critical to nourishing a synergy essential to a homegrown feminist thought.

The Chicana Identity Conferencia at UH, organized by Mujeres Unidas (Women United) in

1975, exemplifies this feminist work. This two-day statewide conference centered on the ways politics, labor, history, bilingual education, and la familia shaped Tejanas. Louise

Villejo, chairperson of Mujeres Unidas, recalls that the Chicana Identity Conferencia spotlighted consciousness-raising as a method for confronting Tejana identity issues.93

Chicanas had launched consciousness-raising sessions in the early 1970s in order “to analyze and propose solutions for the problems they encountered as women involved in a political movement.”94 Facilitating the consciousness-raising workshop at the Chicana Identity

Conferencia, Evey Chapa and Ana Nieto-Gomez had participants form groups and observe one another while each group took turns addressing topics “of particular interest to

Chicanas.”95 After each group conducted a session, participants gathered for a question and answer period. According to Villejo, “we took notes on what was going on [in the women’s

93 Villejo, interview.

94 Chicana Conscious Raising Groups, Box 1, Folder 15, Cynthia Orozco, Orozco Family Papers, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries.

95 Workshops, Louise Villejo Personal Collection.

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movement] and incorporated it more toward our own culture. . . .we broke [consciousness- raising] down as what does that mean as far as just thinking through what the issues are and how to think about them. . .what are our issues—that is really what we always turned back to.

. .how does it relate back to our community.”96 As mentioned earlier in this chapter, one of the CRLC’s most successful endeavors was bringing together hundreds of Tejanas together for consciousness-raising sessions centered on deconstructing prescribed gender roles. The practice of consciousness awareness in counterpublics fueled Tejana activism around anti- racism and anti-sexism, as participants went on to fight for freedom within and outside of the movimiento and developed their own brand of feminism in the process.

Alongside consciousness-raising, the Chicana Identity Conferencia addressed controlling ethnic Mexican archetypes through keynote addresses. At the request of Villejo,

Cotera spoke about the Tejana identity, specifically addressing one of the most power female images in Mexican and Chicana/o history: La Malinche. 97 A Mexica slave who served as an interpreter for Spanish conqueror Hérnan Cortés and who birthed a son with him, Malinche has been cast as traitor, and the trope of Malinche has been deployed to silence ethnic

Mexican women deemed as cultural betrayers. For Tejana community feminists, the recasting of Malinche was critical not only to spotlighting colonial sexual oppression, but also honoring the ways ethnic Mexican women claimed power in masculine spaces. In her speech, Cotera argued that Malinche had been rendered as the embodiment of Spanish sexual

96 Villejo, interview.

97 Louise Villejo Letter to Martha Cotera, November 3, 1975, Box 13, Folder 15, Subject Files, Conferences, Martha Cotera Papers, 1964-, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries.

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conquest and ethnic Mexican women’s historical as well as contemporary roles. Employing psychological and anthropological perspective, Cotera declared that ethnic Mexicans were not merely children of a sexually exploited indigenous mother and a colonial Spanish father and encouraged Tejanas to reject the negative portrayal of Malinche, which had been propagated by Chicanos and academics.98 Cotera’s assertions reflected how Chicanas in the

1970s were re-envisioning Malinche as a source of empowerment. In 1974, Chicana feminist

Adelaida R. Del Castillo rejected the prevailing portrayal of Malinche, or Malintzin Tenepal, as “the sole cause of the fall” of the Mexica or as a “misguided and exploited victim of the tragic love affair” between herself and Spanish colonizer Hernán Cortés.99 She pointed out that while Malinche was sold into slavery, she overcame her oppressive circumstance and gained invaluable linguistic and political skills. For Del Castillo, Malinche was a decisive woman who brought together the two conflicting worlds of the Spanish and the Mexica and created the ethnic Mexican people. Del Castillo contended that male historians had depicted

“the female as being one of the main causes for man’s failure,” and that the negative image of Malinche revealed “unconscious, if intentional, misogynistic attitude toward women in general, especially towards self-assertive women, on the part of western society as a whole.”100 Cotera’s and Del Castillo’s interpretation of Malinche—particularly in the counterpublic space of the conference—challenged Chicanos portrayal of her as the Mexican

Eve, and as a traitor to the ethnic Mexican people. More important, their rejection of this negative archetype countered the chastisement of Chicanas as traitors to their culture for

98 Cotera, The Chicana Feminist, 26-32.

99 Adelaida R. Del Castillo, “Malintzin Tenepal: A preliminary Look into a New Perspective,” Encuentro Femenil 1: 2 (1974): 28.

100 Del Castillo, “Malintzin Tenepal,” 33.

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advocating for women’s rights. It was through women’s counterpublic conferences that

Tejanas not only rejected narrow notions of sexual relationships, but also sought to transform tropes for their own empowerment.

In addition to reframing the image of Malinche, Cotera’s Chicana Identity

Conferencia speech took to task how Tejanos labeled Tejanas as agringadas (ethnic Mexican women behaving like Anglo women) when they fought for women’s liberation, arguing that ethnic Mexican women had a rich feminist legacy. Cotera maintained that some Tejanas

“were ostracized when it came to deciding certain important [feminist] matters, even though they working alongside their men.”101 She further stated that Tejanos in Austin and the Rio

Grande Valley would say “Aha! Feminista!” and “that was good enough reason for not listening to some of the most active women in the community.”102 For Cotera, Tejanas had to challenge visions of freedom that did not meet their needs as sisters, daughters, and mothers of La Raza. Instrumental in the documentation of ethnic Mexican women’s long history of gender activism, Cotera reminded Tejanas that they did not have to go outside out of their culture to locate their feminist voice. Garza Birdwell, Jiménez, Cotera and other Tejanas rooted their community feminisms in the actions of female trailblazers such as Mexican

Catholic nun Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz who mastered mathematics, the natural sciences, language, and literature during the Spanish colonial period. Harassed for her social and religious critiques, Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz’s poetic works garnered transnational praise.103

Tejanas also heralded Doña Maria Josefa de Domínquez who was incarcerated for her

101 Cotera, The Chicana Feminist, 31.

102 Ibid.

103 Martha P. Cotera, Diosa y Hembra: The History and Heritage of Chicanas in the U.S. (Austin: Information Systems Development, 1977), 30.

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participation in the Mexican Independence movement to remove the shackles of Spanish colonialism. Despite her arrest, Doña Josefa maintained communication with rebels and never wavered on her commitment to the “total liberation of her people.”104 Tejanas further bridged anti-sexism with anti-racism by honoring ethnic Mexican women who “suffered violence and brutal executions…at the hand of Anglo justice, legal and extra-legal.”105

Women such as Refugio Robledo became involved in the resistance movement against Anglo repression in Texas when her family harbored rebel Gregorio Cortez. In 1901, she participated in the Battle of Belmont, a shootout between Robledo’s family and Anglo authorities. Risking her life to protect her sons from the gunfire, Robledo used her body as a shield. For Cotera, Robledo represented “one among many Chicanas who became involved during the persecution of persons who resisted new systems imposed on communities, and on the persecution of peaceful men like Gregorio Cortez and Jacinto Treviño who merely reacted to violent treatment.”106 In celebrating ethnic Mexican women such as Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz, Doña Maria Josefa de Domínquez, and Refugio Robeldo, Tejanas not only rejected the controlling agringada trope, but more importantly, grounded their feminism in thoughts and actions of ethnic Mexican women who fought for community liberation alongside women’s rights. For Tejanas, their own history demonstrated that feminist pursuits were not separate from defending the community.

104 Cotera, Diosa y Hembra, 38.

105 Cotera, Profile on the Mexican American Woman, 60.

106 Cotera, Profile on the Mexican American Woman, 62.

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Tejanas not only confronted controlling perspectives and images in counterpublic meetings, but also used conferences to forge a multidirectional and intergenerational feminism. The Chicana Identity Conferencia brought together veterana (veteran) and novice gender and race activists who generated a brand of feminism that was not hierarchal or relegated to one generational perspective. Villejo attributed her lead role in the organizing of the Chicana Identity Conferencia to her exposure to differential consciousness in Inés

Hernández Tovar’s Chicana/o Literature course at UH, described in the previous chapter.

Perceiving Hernández Tovar as a key figure in the development of a Tejana feminist thought,

Villejo invited her to conduct a workshop on ethnic Mexican women’s history to illustrate the ways feminism long encapsulated community activism.107 Villejo also drew inspiration from movimiento community feminists Cotera and Garza Birdwell. She recalled, “I went to the conference at the Y. . . .I got to see [Garza Birdwell] speak. I was in high school and she made a very big impact on me. . . There were so few Latinas that were visible, that were in leadership. When you saw somebody like that, that had the magnetism that she had and [was] speaking on these important issues that were important to you, it makes a big impact on you.”108 Indeed, veteranas Hernández Tovar, Cotera, and Garza Birdwell served as potent examples to younger Tejanas on how to bridge anti-racism and anti-sexism.

The formation and evolution of a Tejana feminist thought, however, was not a process in which only older activists informed the ideology and praxis of emerging radicals.

Rather, it came to fruition in multidirectional and intergenerational spaces where shared

107 Villejo, interview.

108 Ibid.

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ideas, skills, and experiences coalesced to solidify Tejana community feminisms. As Jiménez recalls:

Inés Hernández Tovar was older. She had been married and divorced and was back in school getting her doctorate. She inspired us and was quite an intellectual. Also, a lot of the younger women like Cynthia Perez [were inspirational]. I don’t think I could say I looked up to anybody because it was more [about] what we gained in our own interactions . . . we shared many moments together in helping each other to grow in our existence . . . We all admired the historical figures, but in terms of where we were, I remember that what fed us in our own growth was ourselves; it was relational in how we communicated and interacted.109

For Tejana youth, Garza Birdwell had a commanding presence that instilled a confidence necessary to sustaining the fight for total liberation. On the other hand, Garza

Birdwell was energized by the younger generation of Tejanas in Houston who embraced her as an immigrant, educated her on the plight of Tejanas/os, and had great vision.110 Tejana feminism developed horizontally, too. In San Antonio, Mireles’ activism pathway was not only sparked by her friend Ana Riojas, who was involved in MAYO, but also sustained by the trailblazing work of Rosie Castro, who held similar sentiments about Mireles: “Many of the women that I worked with were strong women, including Irma…who was always very active with the state as well as the local [La Raza Unida] party.”111

Tejanas’ intergenerational and multidirectional feminism was not only cultivated locally in Austin, Houston, and San Antonio, but also bolstered by Tejanas from across the state. Veteranas María L. Hernández and Virginia Múzquiz shaped the political recruitment and retention strategies of the Tejana political caucus, Mujeres Por La Raza (examined more

109 Maria Jiménez, interview by author, audio recording, July 26, 2014, Houston, TX.

110 Yolanda Garza Birdwell, interview by author, audio recording, February 12, 2014, Laguna Vista, TX.

111 Rosie Castro, interview by author, audio recording, October 14, 2014, San Antonio, TX.

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fully in the next chapter). At the Chicana Identity Conferencia, Múzquiz and Mireles co- hosted a political workshop on how electoral power affected Tejanas, how to navigate the political structure, and “what non-political alternatives exist for changing the system.”112

Tejanas perceived Hernández’s and Múzquiz’s electoral prowess as a sign that they too could shape the political landscape. Moreover, Tejanas tapped into the energy of Luz Bazan

Gutiérrez, who was instrumental in community projects and establishing women’s equality in

South Texas.

Tejana counterpublics were critical third spaces for dismantling institutional and intra-ethnic controlling perspectives and images, particularly in women’s conferences centered on identity formation. Tejanas recognized that ethnic Mexican archetypes and stereotypes stifled gender and racial liberation. To bolster their distinct brand of feminism,

Tejanas tapped into the feminist and activist legacy of ethnic Mexican women. Tejanas also forged a feminism that was non-hierarchal and multi-generational through conference workshops.

Conclusion

In the autonomous zones of women’s conferences and organizations, Tejanas forged their local brand community feminist thought. It was through dialogues among local, regional, and national mujeres as well as gender activism that Tejanas defined the core tenets of their emergent feminisms that merged race and gender liberation. For Tejanas, sexual liberation was not only about claiming a right to sexual pleasure, but it also encompassed anti-sterilization advocacy. Tejana feminists and activists Gloria Guardiola’s and Yolanda

Garza Birdwell’s bilingual booklet on ethnic Mexican women along with the “Sex and the

112 Workshops, Louise Villejo Personal Collection.

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Chicana” workshop resolutions—forged and shared in counterpublic spaces—allowed

Tejanas to crystallize their ideas on sexual politics both within and outside of the Chicana/o

Movement. Through CLRC’s dissemination of Chicana scholarship and conferences such as the Chicana Identity Conferencia, Tejanas continued to cultivate their plans of action. Such agendas proved useful for intervening in the Anglo Feminist Movement. By the time of the

1977 National Women’s Conference, Tejanas already had a firm sense of their issues and the type of community feminism that they would bring to the table. Their robust notions of gender liberation are attributed in part to the multi-directional and intergenerational feminisms they nourished in conferences and organizations. The criticisms of YMCA’s hosting of La Conferencia and work to actualize ethnic self-determination spaces additionally reflect the degree to which race, and broader community concerns, defined

Tejanas’ feminist sensibilities. Moreover, the sisterhood that they nourished in the counterpublic MABPWA not only allowed Tejanas to collectively facilitate economic opportunities, but also augment their caucus work in LRUP. The concepts that Tejanas grappled with in these counterpublics complemented their activism, and would be the foundation of the feminist beliefs they brought to organizations like MAYO and LRUP.

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Chapter Four Waiting for No One: Tejana Interventions in Third Party Politics in the 1970s

At the 1976 La Raza Unida Party (LRUP) statewide convention in Seguin, Texas,

Maria Elena Martínez ran a successful bid for state chair against Daniel Bustamante. This was not the first time that Martínez had campaigned to be at the head of the Texas partido

(party). She attempted to become state chairwoman two years prior, driven by the conviction that Tejanas should occupy all ranks within the party structure, even those positions typically held by men. During a women’s caucus meeting in 1973, Martínez asked why LRUP women were settling for the position of vice chair, stating “And why are we not running for chair?

Why can’t women run for chair?. . .We work for the party and we’ve organized the party. I do not understand why we have to automatically assume that we can only be vice chairs.”1

She decided then and there that she would run for state chairwoman in 1974.

While Martínez’s bid for state chair in 1974 was unsuccessful, she triumphantly campaigned against Alberto Luero for the position of vice chair that same year and kept her eye on the goal of becoming head of the Texas LRUP.2 Women in the partido, as they had consistently done in the past, rallied in support of female governance. Linda Del Toro co- drafted a supporting letter that was mailed to all party members and she studied how to get enough votes for Martínez. She was committed to helping Martínez win, believing that

Martínez was best suited for the job. When asked how people responded to Martínez running for state chair, Del Toro stated:

1 Maria Elena Martínez, interview by José Angel Gutiérrez, video recording, October 26, 1997, Tejano Voices, University of Texas—Arlington, Arlington, TX.

2 Rosemary Beales, “Austinite’s involvement natural,” Austin American-Statesman, September 22, 1976.

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I just really didn’t care [what they thought]. I said, ‘I want her. I am going to do what it takes to get her elected.’…To me it was like do not get in my way. I just never worried about it. I said, ‘This is what we need, this is what we want, and this is what we are going to do about it. Period. Are you with us?’…We were very victorious. She got elected and I [also] got elected in the executive committee. I think it showed that if you do the work, you are going to reap some of the rewards. She deserved to be in a leadership position and she got it. We got her elected….We got on that floor and we politicked for her.3

Throughout the 1970s, Tejanas did not wait for political opportunities to present themselves. Drawing on their experiences in merging anti-racism and anti-sexism in the

Mexican American Youth Organization (MAYO), Tejanas carved spaces for female leadership positions, ran as party candidates, cultivated political awareness among rural and urban women, and formed a women’s caucus within the partido. As the backbone of LRUP,

Tejana community feminists ensured that the Chicana/o vision of an alternative political structure—an ethnic third party—was one that responded to the goals and aspirations of women of color.

While scholars who have analyzed the successes and failures of LRUP acknowledge that women played a critical role in performing the legwork of the partido, they relegate the subject of women to a couple of paragraphs and focus on the male leaders of the party.

Consequently, such works do not delve into the ways Tejanas envisioned a broad liberation that addressed race and gender.4 Chicana/o studies scholar Dionne Espinoza’s recent article on LRUP departs from earlier works, highlighting how Chicanas, as organizers and leaders,

3 Linda Del Toro, interview by author, audio recording, June 27, 2014, Austin, TX.

4 Ignacio M. García, United We Win: The Rise and Fall of La Raza Unida Party (Tucson: The University of Arizona, 1989); Carlos Muñoz, Jr., Youth, Identity, Power: The Chicano Movement (New York: Verso, 1989); and Armando Navarro, La Raza Unida Party: A Chicano Challenge to the U.S. Two-Party Dictatorship (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 2000).

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navigated the male-dominated terrain of electoral politics.5 Building on Espinoza, this chapter examines how Tejana community feminists intervened in LRUP and carved women’s spaces for the purpose of consciousness-raising, strategizing, and further expanding the notions of what it meant to be a Tejana championing la causa in the Juan Crow South. I underscore the ways Tejanas balanced anti-racism and anti-sexism activism and expanded the frames of the political family within a Southern context. Tejana intervention in LRUP destabilized cultural and structural barriers designed to exclude women of color from the political scene. While intervening in the electoral landscape, Tejanas reconceived the metaphor of la familia as a commitment to the political inclusion of all members of the community. This chapter argues that Tejanas, animated by grassroots activism, were central to cross-racial campaigning endeavors. Such cross-racial organizing shows how Tejanas served as bridges and expands our notion of LRUP, or “The People’s Party.”

The Formation of a Chicana/o Third Party

The partido was an outgrowth of MAYO. Having spent three years engaged in ethnic self-determination and educational reform in the barrios of San Antonio, MAYO members decided to enter the fray of electoral politics by working with Barrios Unidos to form the

Committee for Barrio Betterment (CBB) in 1969. 6 While MAYO was skeptical of the

5 Dionne Espinoza, “The Partido Belongs to Those Who Will Work for It’: Chicana Organizing and Leadership in the Texas Raza Unida Party, 1970-1980,” Aztlán: A Journal of Chicano Studies 36:1 (Spring 2011): 191-210.

6 Mexican American Youth Organization, Box 9 Folder 1, Raza Unida Party Records, Mexican American Youth Organization and the Alianza, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries. Navarro, La Raza Unida Party, 28. The slate of Chicano candidates included Mario Compean for mayor and C.H. “Candy” Alejo and Diario Chapa for city council.

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political landscape, believing that “neither of the two major parties had been sensitive or responsive” to the needs of Raza, the organization had conducted voter registration and voter education campaigns since its inception.7 Charting a path towards the creation of LRUP,

MAYO tested its political capital through the CBB. In 1969, the CBB ran a slate of

Chicana/o candidates for the San Antonio city council race. Mario Compean, a MAYO leader, ran on a “Chicana/o platform that stressed [ethnic nationalism] and community control of the city’s institutions, and that addressed the issues plaguing the barrios.” Thanks to CBB, Compean garnered enough votes from the historic ethnic Mexican West Side that he was shy of only 200 votes needed to force a runoff election against incumbent Mayor Walter

W. McAllister.8

Compean’s political success was significant given the entrenched Anglo political machine. Since the 1950s, twenty Anglo families controlled the commerce, business, and the political arena in San Antonio. Known as the Good Government League (GGL), the Anglo dominated coalition had built on decades of structural segregation. McAllister served at the head of this social and political dynasty.9 He was the architect of GGL, which poured money into recruiting and financing a slate of candidates for the nine at-large city council seats with

7 Navarro, La Raza Unida Party, 28 and Mexican American Youth Organization, Box 9 Folder 1, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections.

8 Mexican American Youth Organization, Box 9 Folder 1, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections.

9 Montejano, Quixote’s Soldiers, 14. For more on the Anglo-controlled Texas political landscape, see Robert A. Cuéllar, “A Social and Political History of the Mexican American Population of Texas, 1929-1963,” (M.A. thesis, North Texas State University, 1969); George Norris Green, The Establishment in Texas Politics: The Primitive Years, 1938-1957 (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1984); Benjamin Marquez, Democratizing Texas Politics: Race, Identity, and Mexican American Empowerment, 1945-2002 (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2014); David O’ Donald Cullen and Kyle G. Wilkison, The Texas Far Right: The Radical Roots of Lone Star Conservatism (College Station: Texas A&M University Press, 2014).

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the intention of directing all business and government decisions. This political machine was so effective that GGL members won seventy-seven of eighty races from 1955 to 1975 and

McAllister served as mayor from 1961 to 1971.

The GGL’s political machine was rooted in decades of Tejana/o political repression.

Since the nineteenth century, Tejanas/os had witnessed decreasing political power as Anglos dominated the electoral landscape. Historian Arnoldo De León notes the political system in

Texas rendered ethnic Mexicans powerless through “disenfranchisement, exclusion from political parties, gerrymandering, cooptation, and the mobilization of bias.”10 In this climate, political bosses promised rewards and offered rations to ethnic Mexicans in order to determine electoral outcomes. According to De León, Tejano elites took advantage of this boss system by voting, participating in political conventions, and holding limited political positions at the local level in an attempt to maintain their status and, at times, to advocate on behalf of the ethnic Mexican masses. Ultimately, political bossism fueled Anglo authority in

Texas.

The GGL political machine built upon the long-standing political boss system, appointing token Tejano elites and maintaining ethnic Mexicans disenfranchisement through the legacy of the poll tax. Buttressing GGL, the poll tax severely hampered the voting rights of African Americans and ethnic Mexicans in Texas for much of the twentieth century. Since

1902, the poll tax had effectively barred poor and working-class ethnic Mexican participation in elections well into the mid-1960s. Political organizer Irma Mireles recalls:

10 Arnoldo De León, The Tejano Community, 1836-1910 (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1862), 45. For more on political bossism in Texas, see Evan Anders, Boss Rule in South Texas: The Progressive Era (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1982); Mario T. García, Desert Immigrants: The Mexicans of El Paso, 1880–1920 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1981); and David Montejano, Anglos and Mexicans in the Making of Texas, 1861-1986 (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1987).

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The first political event that I can remember is when John F. Kennedy ran for president. My parents did not vote because of the poll tax. And things being the way they were…if you are going to pay $1.50 just to vote or get something on the table, you are not going to use $1.50, or however much it was, just to vote. So, [my parents] would not vote.11

This restriction of ethnic Mexican voting rights translated into to the underrepresentation of

Tejana/o politicians. As San Antonio activist Rosie Castro remembers, “The Chicana/o representation was not there. It was not there on the school boards, the city council, the county [commission]…Whether in a local or state body, you simply were not represented.”12

The Texas Legislature finally abolished it in 1966. The state repeal of the poll tax occurred two years after the Twenty-fourth Amendment to the United States Constitution eliminated the poll tax as a voting requirement for all federal elections, and a year after the Voting

Rights Act lifted all voting restrictions and ushered federal oversight of local and state elections.13

While GGL held a firm grip on San Antonio’s electoral sphere in the mid-twentieth century, there were instances where the Tejana/o West Side disrupted the political machine.

According to historian David Montejano, a growing ethnic Mexican middle-class and veteran activism paved the way for the election of a “few mavericks” in city positions in the 1950s and 1960s: Joe Bernal, Albert Peña, Pete Torres, and Henry B. Gonzalez.14 These Tejano

11 Irma Mireles, interview by author, audio recording, October 16, 2014, San Antonio, TX. Prior to the Texas repeal of the poll tax, ethnic Mexicans organized poll tax drives in an effort to bolster political representation. In 1958 and 1959, Houston ethnic Mexicans engaged in an aggressive grassroots poll tax drive campaign to elect state senator Henry B. González for governor. Concentrating on the historic ethnic Mexican areas of Segundo Barrio, Magnolia, and the North Side, thirty volunteers gathered poll monies at theatre lobbies and food markets. Thomas Kreneck, Del Pueblo: A History of Houston’s Hispanic Community (College Station: Texas A&M University Press, 1989), Kindle edition, Location 1228.

12 Rosie Castro, interview by author, audio recording, October 14, 2014, San Antonio, TX.

13 O. Douglas Weeks, “ELECTION LAWS,” Handbook of Texas Online, Texas State Historical Association, http://www.tshaonline.org/handbook/online/articles/wde01, (accessed October 02, 2015).

14 Montejano, Quixote Soldiers, 15. 149

politicians made strides in the establishment of racial equality, but they served in an elite

Anglo business climate where city politicians were expected to do what they were told.15

Beyond moments of political fracturing, there was a concerted push for statewide Tejana/o representation that originated with John F. Kennedy’s 1960 presidential race. The Kennedy campaign, along with the Democratic endorsement of civil rights, galvanized ethnic

Mexicans to pursue partisan organizing through Viva Kennedy clubs.16 When Kennedy failed to uphold his promise to appoint ethnic Mexicans to governmental posts, Tejanas/os amplified their campaign for political inclusion. In 1962, Peña and George I. Sanchez channeled their energy into the newly formed Political Association of Spanish-Speaking

Organizations (PASO) and fought for ethnic Mexican first class citizenship, desegregation, quality education, economic progress, and cultural retention.17 Peña and Sanchez had strong criticisms of the historical lack of ethnic representation in the Democratic Party. Sanchez went so far as to declare that “only the Mexicanos [could] speak for Mexicanos” because politicians had ignored “people of Mexican extraction in Texas,” and few understood their culture. He further stated that ethnic Mexicans were “the most neglected, the least sponsored,

[and] the most orphaned minority group in the United States.”18 As the 1960s progressed,

15 Montejano, Quixote Soldiers, 16.

16 The League of Latin American Citizens (LULAC) and the American G.I. Forum played key roles in the growth of the “Viva Kennedy” movement, hoping that their efforts would translate into ethnic Mexican political appointments. Cuéllar, “A Social and Political History of the Mexican American Population of Texas, 1929-1963:” Marquez, Democratizing Texas Politics.

17 Marquez, Democratizing Texas Politics, 60-61. Approximately seventy ethnic Mexican leaders transitioned the Viva Kennedy clubs into the Political Association of Spanish-speaking Organizations (PASO) during a meeting in Phoenix, Arizona. Among those leaders, Albert Peña and George I. Sanchez shepherded the development and expansion of PASO.

18 R.D., “PASO’: Political Interests of Latins United,” Texas Observer, September 15, 1981, 1; 3.

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Sanchez’s ethnic sentiments about Texas governance resonated with MAYO members who were increasingly convinced of the power of enacting change through political office.

By 1969, MAYO members were enthusiastic about intervening in the political arena.

Although Compean failed to capture the San Antonio mayoral seat in 1969, the wide-appeal of his race-based, grassroots campaign signaled that the tides were turning in electoral politics. He garnered an astounding 11,838 votes and ran third in a six-person race.19

Compean’s campaign convinced MAYO members that the organization should launch an ethnic third party.20 At the first statewide MAYO conference in Mission, Texas, founder and leader José Angel Gutiérrez galvanized Tejana/o activists by stating:

Democrats and Republicans are alike…both parties have promised a hell of a lot, but neither has delivered. Now we as [Chicanas/os] are calling their bluff…As far as we in MAYO are concerned, the only viable alternative is to look into political strategies that will yield maximum benefits for la Raza.21

In 1970, MAYO members traveled to South Texas to test the viability of ethnic third party politics. Labeled the Winter Garden Project (WGP), MAYO concentrated on the South

Texas counties of Dimmit, La Salle, and Zavala. Impoverished, majority ethnic Mexican, yet politically Anglo-dominated, Dimmit, La Salle, and Zavala counties seemed to be the most fertile grounds for launching LRUP.22 According to Viviana Santiago, “the emphasis was on winning elections and taking control. It wasn’t enough to just do walkouts and marches; it

19 Navarro, La Raza Unida Party, 28.

20 In 1968, José Angel Gutiérrez researched the advantages of forming a third party and urged fellow MAYO members to seriously consider how a Chicana/o party would ensure the promotion and protection of Chicana/o interests. Navarro, La Raza Unida Party, 28.

21 Navarro, La Raza Unida Party, 31.

22 Garcia, United We Win, 40-41.

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was time to start winning elections and taking control.”23 José Angel Gutiérrez, Viviana

Santiago, Juan Patlan, and Alberto Luera mobilized ethnic Mexicans in South Texas through

“community meetings, rallies, social and cultural events, and door-to-door and telephone canvassing.”24 They also publicized LRUP by securing radio spots, traveling in vehicles with booming political messages throughout Tejana/o neighborhoods, and distributing campaign materials including literature, buttons, bumper stickers, and posters.25 The project proved successful—the emergent LRUP won fifteen mayoral, city council, and school board positions in Cotulla, Carrizo Springs, and Crystal City. In Crystal City—the hotbed of

WGP— school board and city council elections “gave [LRUP] community control of those institutions” and effectively challenged the Anglo power structure.26

The 1970 Crystal City take-over demonstrated that Tejanas/os could out maneuver the Anglo political machine and rally the ethnic Mexican electorate. The “spinach capital of the world” had a long history of subjugating the ethnic Mexican population. Centered in the agribusiness corridor of South Texas, Crystal City became dependent on ethnic Mexican labor as the Mexican Revolution and the increase in crop production fueled migration in the early twentieth century.27 The economic downturn of the late 1920s decreased the need for cheap labor and ethnic Mexicans, locally and nationally, were targeted for deportation and

23 Navarro, La Raza Unida Party, 31.

24 Navarro, La Raza Unida Party, 34.

25 Ibid.

26 Armando Navarro, The Mexican American Youth Organization: Avant Garde of the Chicano Movement in Texas (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1995) 222-223.

27 Armando Navarro, The Cristal Experiment: A Chicano Struggle for Community Control (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1998), 18.

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repatriation. Those that remained in Crystal City endured intense poverty, educational and public segregation, and “deplorable living and health conditions” for generations in the barrios of Mexico Chico, Quizpero, Switche, and Mexico Grande.28 Anglos controlled all political institutions, from the city council to the school board.

The first challenge to this oppressive social and political environment occurred against the backdrop of the burgeoning post-war African American and ethnic Mexican Civil

Rights Movement. In the early 1960s, Crystal City witnessed an impressive, but short-lived exercise in Tejana/o governance. Determined to transform Texas politics for the benefit of ethnic Mexicans, PASO collaborated with the Teamsters in 1963 to mount an aggressive poll tax drive and oust the Anglo power structure. In this initial foray in Crystal City electoral politics—which preceded the enduring victories of the WGP and the repeal of the poll tax—

PASO and the Teamsters had to contend with the poll tax and were unprepared for the economic reprisals and white-ethnic Mexican alliance following the elections. Referred to as

“Los Cinco,” five poor and informally educated ethnic Mexicans from the barrios ran successful bids for city council. Los Cinco’s tenure in political office ended in 1965, as they struggled for three years to govern in an entrenched Anglo political system. As Los Cinco were mounting their campaigns, the Texas Rangers—under the direction of Captain Alfred

Allee—took over the local law enforcement and imposed a curfew for ethnic Mexicans. After the election, Allee physically assaulted Mayor Juan Cornejo with impunity. Beyond anti-

Mexican repression at the hands of the Texas Rangers, Los Cinco faced economic repercussions from the Anglo power structure. Manuel Maldonado lost his job at the

Economart store the day after the elections and Antonio Cárdenas’ wages were cut in half.

28 Navarro, The Cristal Experiment, 19.

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Mario Hernández was even threatened with jail time for writing bad checks unless he turned against the other four members of Los Cinco.29

Anglos also strategically worked with middle-class ethnic Mexicans to run countywide candidates under the Citizens Association Serving All Americans (CASAA) in

1964.30 Middle-class ethnic Mexicans, who favored assimilation, had a financial and political interest in aligning with the Anglo power structure. The structure of CASAA was designed

“to give the appearance of inclusion and participation”—there were equal numbers of whites and middle-class ethnic Mexicans on the board of directors and the membership base was mixed.31 In the midst of CASAA mounting a powerful challenge, PASO was unable to come to the defense of Los Cinco as the organization was grappling with in fighting between liberals and conservative members who had two different views of its future. During the

WGP in 1970, conservative Anglos and some ethnic Mexicans resurrected CASSA in an attempt to thwart the second take-over in Crystal City. They smeared LRUP candidates as unqualified militant radicals. José Angel Gutiérrez was specifically targeted as communist, un-American, and an atheist. Anglos and ethnic Mexicans in CASSA went so far as to drop two thousand leaflets from an airplane that warned of economic turmoil if LRUP candidates won. As they did in the early 1960s, Anglo ranchers and farmers affiliated with CASAA threatened potential LRUP voters with unemployment. Lastly, CASAA ran a slate of ethnic

Mexican candidates that the Anglo power holders could control and influence.32 The Anglo

29 John Staples Shockley, Chicano Revolt in a Texas Town (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1974), 45.

30 Shockley, Chicano Revolt in a Texas Town, 56-69.

31 Navarro, The Cristal Experiment, 40.

32 Navarro, La Raza Unida Party, 34. 154

elite—aware of the growing militancy among Tejanas/os—understood that they would have to work to install ethnic Mexican puppets in order to maintain power.

The WGP was not only a challenge to conservative views, but also a critical opportunity for Tejanas to be a forefront of a new political approach. An Anglo controlled, all-male ethnic Mexican government, supported by CASAA, would have not only further circumvented racial freedom in Crystal City, but also restrict Tejana participation in politics.

Through the LRUP campaign in South Texas, Luz Gutiérrez and Viviana Santiago advanced their skills in electoral organizing and campaigning. Santiago also became instrumental in crafting proposals for economic, social, and educational programs. She traveled to

Washington, D.C. for three months to learn the nuts and bolts of obtaining resources and applied for federal funding when she returned to Crystal City.33 While in Crystal City,

Santiago became the first woman elected to the Crystal City school board in 1973.34 Armed with the knowledge of Los Cinco’s shortcomings, LRUP campaign managers José Angel

Gutiérrez, Viviana Santiago, and Alberto Luera circumvented CASAA’s counter measures by tapping into the groundswell of political unrest in Crystal City.35 Gutiérrez portrayed himself as a “defender of the poor and exploited, who fought against those who wished to continue the subjugation” of Tejanas/os.36

33 Navarro, The Cristal Experiment, 258.

34 Viviana Santiago, interview by José Angel Gutiérrez, video recording, June 16, 1998, Tejano Voices. University of Texas—Arlington, Arlington, TX.

35 For more on the first and second Crystal City take-over, see José Angel Gutiérrez, The Making of a Chicano Militant: Lessons from Cristal (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1998); Navarro, The Cristal Experiment; and Shockley, Chicano Revolt in a Texas Town.

36 Navarro, La Raza Unida Party, 34.

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For Tejanas/os committed to self-determination and disillusioned with the two-party system, third party politics provided the best avenue for amassing ethnic political capital.

Political scientist Armando Navarro contends that the U.S. political order is not a representative democracy, but rather a two-party dictatorship that restricts electoral choices.

Navarro states that Democratic and Republican parties, “due to the monopoly of power they exercise, have unlimited control over the electoral and policy processes that govern the nation.”37 For Navarro, the two-party dictatorship constrains third parties in structural ways, from the “winner takes all” system to control over who can be listed on electoral ballots.38 In the late 1960s, Chicana/o activists throughout the nation held a similar view of the political sphere. The Plan de Aztlán, one of the foundational documents of the Chicana/o Movement, states that “the two-party system is the same animal with two heads that feed from the same trough.”39 The surprising results of LRUP during the WGP, however, energized Tejanas/os to revolt against the established political order through the further development of an ethnic third party.

Emboldened by unprecedented results of the WGP, MAYO expanded LRUP from a regional to a statewide political initiative at a convention in San Antonio in 1971. To comply with Texas election laws, LRUP had to establish a state executive committee. The third party

37 Navarro, La Raza Unida Party, 9. Navarro builds his two-party dictatorship thesis on the work of scholars Gordon S. Black, Benjamin D. Black, and Clinton Rossiter who characterize the long-standing two-party hegemonic structure as tyrannical. Gordon S. Black and Benjamin D. Black, The Politics of American Discontent: How a New Party Can Make Democracy Work Again (New York: John Wiley and Sons, Inc., 1994) and Clinton Rossiter, Parties and Politics in America (New York: Cornell University Press, 1960).

38 Navarro, La Raza Unida Party, 14-15.

39 “El Plan Espiritual de Aztlán,” University of Arizona, http://clubs.arizona.edu/~mecha/pages/PDFs/ElPlanDeAtzlan.pdf, (accessed October 27, 2015).

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accomplished this task through precinct and county conventions where attendees voted for delegates who would name “the officers of the state party which would be the state executive committee.”40 Of the thirty counties that expressed interest in materializing local LRUP representation, nine urban and rural counties complied with the state laws by the time of state convention (Zavala, Hidalgo, Harris, Bexar, Kleburg, McLennan, Tarrant, and Victoria) and largely voted for state expansion. Beyond organizing precinct and county conventions,

Tejanas in LRUP served as local chairwomen and Alma Canales was elected state committeewoman at the San Antonio convention.41 Tejanas also played an influential role in

LRUP’s compliance with state election laws. In seeking to become a robust party, LRUP dispelled the myth that ethnic Mexicans in the Juan Crow South were a stagnant political sleeping giant. Tejanas/os were intent on eradicating the “old ways of boss rule, discrimination, disrespect, and apathy.”42 Indeed, LRUP sought to bring “dignity and self- respect to La Raza throughout Texas” and show that Chicana/os “have come to age politically.”43

Early Tejana Interventions

Determined to disrupt the male dominated leadership of LRUP, Tejana community feminists extended race-based third party politics to include the political recruitment and

40 Texas Raza Unida Party Box 3 Folder 5, Raza Unida Party Records, 1972 Campaign and Convention, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries.

41 Texas Raza Unida Party, Box 3 Folder 5, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections.

42 “Texas’ Sleeping Giant—Really Awake This Time?” Special issue of Texas Observer, April 11, 1969, 1.

43 11 Questions About Raza Unida Party, Box 2 Folder 14, Raza Unida Party Records, 1969-1979, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries.

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engagement of ethnic Mexican women from diverse backgrounds and generations. While enfranchising ethnic Mexican women, Tejanas traversed cultural and structural boundaries designed to keep women out of the political sphere. In the embryonic stage of MAYO’s electoral participation, Tejana activists intervened as organizers and political candidates, refusing to accept the idea that their opinions did not matter and that they were not qualified enough to run for office. During the WGP, Luz Gutiérrez and others fought to be recognized as full-fledged contributors to third party politics. As MAYO members engaged in the political landscape of Crystal City, Cuidadanos Unidos (CU) emerged as a robust grassroots social justice organization. The members of CU consisted of “the men who [worked]…the men who experienced being pushed down like their sons [were] being put down; they were the men who collectively would limit the power of the gringo over La Raza.”44 The male- driven CU became the local organizing machine for LRUP.

Tejana community feminists initially sought inclusion by launching a women’s auxiliary to CU, Sociedad Femenil Chicanas de Cristal (the Chicana Women’s Society of

Crystal).45 Unwilling to serve in a mere supplemental capacity like the women’s auxiliaries of LULAC, Gutiérrez along with Virgina Múzquiz, Elena Rivera, Nifa Moncada, Juanita

Santos, and others demanded full inclusion within a few months. According to Gutiérrez:

The women involved did all the work and we got no credit...We finally said, ‘You know what? This has got to change.’ I worked with several women and through that, we were able to go to a meeting and we said, ‘We are tired of making tamales and cooking. We want to have a say so on whose going to run for office and we want to have some candidates in that office as well.’…Two of the leaders there…walked out and they said, ‘We do not want to be a part of it if the women are going to get

44 Aztlán: Chicano Revolt in the Wintergarden, Box 103, José Angel Gutiérrez Papers, 1954-1990, Written Works, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries.

45 Navarro, The Cristal Experiment, 76.

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involved because that’s not their place.’ [It] really changed everything in Crystal City when the women were saying we want to get involved. It was either we got involved or [the men] did not get fed when they got home.46

Tejanas’ call for gender equality forced the CU to see women as more than the wives of political actors who cooked and organized events—they could stand alongside their brothers and make meaningful change in Crystal City. Within a year, “CU had approximately two hundred families as members.”47 In addition to organizational membership, Gutiérrez—who lead the charge for women’s political involvement—became the Zavala county chairwoman by the end of 1971.

As LRUP was coming to fruition in South Texas through the support and leadership of women such as Gutiérrez, Múzquiz, and Santiago who managed local committees and had expertise in the Texas Election Code, MAYO continued to run candidates in San Antonio under CBB. In 1971, Rosie Castro ran for city council. At the time, there was a perception in the CBB that Castro was “too feminist and unconventional” to be on the slate.48 Carlos

Guerra, a leader of MAYO, recalls that men at the time “thought they were progressive” about the role of women, but in reality they “were pretty sexist.”49 While Castro recalls not

“being all that radical,” Tejano activists have consistently stated how feminist she was when asked about her.50 Since her childhood, she “[was] always compelled to say something.”51

46 “Maria Elena Martinez and Luz Bazan Gutierrrez on the historical legacy of La Raza Unida ,” Thorne Dreyer, aired July 6, 2012 on Rag Radio.

47 Navarro, The Cristal Experiment, 76.

48 Montejano, Quixote’s Soldiers, 161.

49 Montejano, Quixote’s Soldiers, 154.

50 Rosie Castro, interview by author, audio recording, October 14, 2014, San Antonio, TX.

51 Rosie Castro, interview by Maria Cotera, video recording, July 6, 2012, Chicana Por Mi Raza Digital Archive, University of Illinois—Urbana Champaign, Champaign, IL.

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Castro was raised in an environment infused with frequent discussions about Mexican politics and learned at an early age how to clearly vocalize her opinions. She further bolstered her verbal power while giving speeches in a high school youth club. As a college student at Our Lady of the Lake University, she was invited by her mentor, Margaret Kramer, to attend political events and quickly became attracted to the influence of policies and policy makers. At political events, Castro witnessed the wives of Joe Bernal, Pete Torres, and Albert

Peña working to bring campaigns to fruition and not receiving any credit.52 While CBB men had “a lot of respect for their own opinions and for other guys’ opinions” and it was hard for women “to have [their] opinion considered,” Castro often spoke up and did not simply abide by the male consensus.53 She rebuffed negative perceptions of her by exhibiting her political prowess. Mario Compean and others recognized her track record of organizing campaigns as a former leader in the Young Democrats. She along with Gloria Cabrera became the first

Tejanas in San Antonio to participate in city elections. For Castro, engaging directly in the collective electoral cause demonstrated that “Tejanas/os could be a part of the system and govern themselves,” in a political climate that to that point had been hostile to meaningful change.54 Castro lost her 1971 bid for city council. Her campaign nonetheless illustrated that

Tejanas were unwilling to take a back seat—they were going to actively express their ideas and meaningfully engage in the political arena. She was not only invested in female inclusion, but also equally concerned about the collective advancement of ethnic Mexicans.

Indeed, Tejanas had a deep-seated commitment to both anti-racism and anti-sexism.

52 Castro, interview by Cotera.

53 Rosie Castro, interview by José Angel Gutiérrez, video recording, July 1, 1996, Tejano Voices, University of Texas—Arlington, Arlington, TX.

54 Castro, interview by author.

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As LRUP gained momentum in the urban and rural counties of Bexar, Harris,

Hidalgo, Tarrant, Victoria, and Zavala, Tejana community feminists would continue to fight for gender equality while championing Chicana/o political self-determination. Alongside Luz

Gutiérrez and Rosie Castro, Evey Chapa, Martha Cotera, Irma Mireles, Maria Jiménez, and

Inés Hernández Tovar agitated early on to be included LRUP’s decision-making process.

Forming the backbone of LRUP as chairwomen and organizers who were experts on Texas

Election Code, coordinated campaigns, and put together precinct and county meetings,

Tejanas successfully incorporated women’s rights into the 1971 party platform. At this time, women comprised fifteen percent of the candidates, thirty-six percent of county chairwomen, and twenty percent of precinct chairwomen. Additionally, community feminist Chapa served as recording secretary on the Platform Committee and was instrumental in the crafting of the

“Party Platform on Women.”55 She worked with several Tejanas in Tarrant County to incorporate gender equality in platform drafts and further developed this inclusion in the executive committee’s finalization of the platform.56 Bolstering Chapa’s efforts, Alma

Canales coordinated research on Chicanas’ role in the partido and the broader fights for women’s equality as the chair of the Chicana/Women’s Liberation Committee. Tejana feminist intervention in LRUP led to the official party support of the “amendment to the U.S. constitution providing equal protection under the law for women” (the Equal Rights

Amendment). The partido also supported the repealing or amending of legal double

55 Espinoza, “The Partido Belongs to Those Who Will Work for It,” 194.

56 Raza Unida Party Tarrant County Convention Minutes, Box 9 Folder 5, Raza Unida Party Records, 1969-1979, Precinct, County, and Regional Convention Minutes, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries.

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standards such as the “protective legislative [sic]” in order to “give women equality.”57

Tejanas in LRUP did not want female workers to have special legislation based on their sex, but rather an Equal Rights Amendment that would eliminate gender discrimination. The party platform also clearly stated that “all resolutions referring to equal rights or a group representation” applied to every woman “whether they [were] working mothers, career women, or housewives.”58 Lastly, LRUP made a commitment to the inclusion of women in

“decision-making positions” through active “political education and recruitment.”59

While the party platform on mujeres endorsed the Equal Rights Amendment, a central goal of women’s liberation, it also pointed out that women of color “did not have the luxury of dealing exclusively with feminism and fighting male chauvinism.” Women of color could not only “speak of greater political participation, equal pay for equal work, or even control of their own bodies, since all of these are denied in practice to all members of [non-white] groups, male and female.”60 Tejanas further contended in the platform that “racism [played] an even bigger role in suppressing people in the State of Texas.”61 Witnessing decades of ethnic Mexican economic, social, and political subjugation in the South, LRUP Tejanas fought for gender rights alongside racial liberation. They ensured that the cry of LRUP encompassed “equal legal rights, equal educational and economic opportunities, [all] equal political participation” of Tejanas and Tejanos. Their activism within the partido reflected

57 No author, “Party Platform on Chicanas, 1972: La Raza Unida Party of Texas,” in Chicana Feminist Thought: The Basic Historical Writings ed. Alma M. Garcia (New York: Routledge, 1997), 169.

58 No author, “Party Platform on Chicanas, 1972,” 169.

59 Ibid.

60 Ibid.

61 Ibid.

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their experiences as women of color that were intimately aware of the intersections of race, class, and gender discrimination.

Mujeres Por La Raza

To ensure that the political education and recruitment of women came to fruition,

Tejanas forged Mujeres Por La Raza (Women for the People), a women’s caucus within the partido, in 1973. For women in LRUP, “words were not enough.”62 Alongside their counterpublic work within and beyond the movimiento, as discussed in Chapter 3, Tejanas advanced female consciousness-raising and strategizing through MPLR. The women’s caucus held three Conferencias de Mujeres Por La Raza Unida in San Antonio, Corpus

Christi, and Crystal City to solidify their power in LRUP before the statewide conference scheduled for end of the year. In 1973, MPLR hosted the first Conferencia de Mujeres Por

La Raza Unida in San Antonio. A multi-generational group of more than 200 women from

20 different counties attended the Tejana meeting. It attracted the attention of high school and college students, professional women, and grassroots activists. Workshops familiarized

Tejanas with the history of the party and critically assessed the issues that plagued women of color. Tejanas also discussed voter registration, fundraising, campaigning, and community organizations.

For Evey Chapa, the inaugural San Antonio gathering advanced Tejana community feminism by addressing women’s issues within a race-based political endeavor:

The Chicanas who participated in the first Conferencia de Mujeres Por La Raza demonstrated that the Chicano movement is stronger because mujeres are actually

62 Every Chapa, “Mujeres Por La Raza Unida,” in Chicana Feminist Thought: The Basic Historical Writings ed. Alma M. Garcia (New York: Routledge, 1997), 179.

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involved, and further, making decisions. We feel that these efforts of Mujeres Por La Raza begin to fulfill our commitment to la mujer as an active participant and supporter of our own political expressions in the Raza Unida Party, and allows us to develop our own philosophies as women within a minority group—as Chicanas.63

These conferences provided ethnic Mexican women the space not only to empower one another to continue intervening in the movimiento and LRUP, but also bolster their distinct feminist thought as oppressed women who have witnessed structural class, race, and gender violence. MPLR placed an emphasis on strategically recruiting rural and urban ethnic

Mexican women into the partido.64 Fostering ethnic Mexican women participation in the political process proved to be a long and arduous task in the initial years of LRUP. As they block walked throughout the state to promote the party and garner enough petition signatures,

Tejanas encountered women who refused to engage in political matters without the permission of their husbands.65 Irma Mireles recalls:

A lot of women were not registered to vote…At that time it was [seen as] la cosa del hombre (a man’s thing)…When we would go door-to-door they would say, ‘You could come back later and talk to my husband, but I do not do anything [regarding] politics.’ That was very frustrating for us because we were young and we did not understand how to get the women to get out and vote.66

Tejanas struggled to reach traditional ethnic Mexican women who did not participate in

“public” matters and perceived men as the speakers of the household. Several Tejanas who headed LRUP activities across the state were from urban environments defined by nueva

Tejana activism (Chapter 2). During and after the WGP, Luz Gutierrez collaborated with

63 Chapa, “Mujeres Por La Raza Unida,” 179.

64 Conference Booklet, Conferencia de Muejeres Por La Raza Unida, Box 7, Folder 9, Martha Cotera Papers, 1964-, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries.

65 Montejano, Quixote’s Soldiers, 162.

66 Mireles, interview.

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seasoned female political actors in Crystal City in order to attain total family political participation. Tejanas in LRUP also sought to work with political experts across Texas who had insight in the best practices for bringing ethnic Mexican women into the electoral sphere.

The conferences hosted by MPLR provided critical spaces for gleaning recruitment strategies from veteran female political actors María L. Hernández and Virginia Múzquiz.

Hernández and Múzquiz provided critical insight on mobilizing women of the previous generation. Throughout her life, Hernández resisted segregation, racial oppression, and poor education. Born in 1896 near Monterrey, Nuevo León, she crossed the border and settled in

San Antonio in 1918. Working alongside her husband, Pedro Hernández Barrera, she founded the civil rights organization Orden Caballeros de América (the Order Knights of

America) in 1929. Hernández was a strong advocate for ethnic Mexican women. She gathered financial resources for expectant mothers, championed women’s rights in the 1938 pecan-sheller’s strike, and fought for quality education in the historically ethnic Mexican

West Side. Hernández turned her attention toward Chicana/o party politics after being asked to be a keynote speaker at the LRUP statewide conference in Austin in 1970. In 1972,

Hernández and her husband traveled throughout South and Central Texas to garner votes for

LRUP candidates Ramsey Muñiz and Martha Cotera.67 For Tejanas in LRUP, Hernández not only served as a political mentor in recruiting ethnic Mexican women, but was also “living proof that Chicanas have the freedom, energy, and capacity for [political] development within the Chicano community.”68 Indeed, intergenerational and multidirectional political

67 Martha Cotera, Profile of the Mexican American Woman (Austin: National Educational Laboratory Publishers, Inc., 1976) and Cynthia E. Orozco, "HERNANDEZ, MARIA L. DE," Handbook of Texas Online, Texas State Historical Association, http://www.tshaonline.org/handbook/online/articles/fhe75, (accessed October 12, 2015).

68 Cotera, Profile of the Mexican American Woman, 80.

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engagement was central to solidifying Tejana feminist thought. Younger women in the movimiento gleaned critical skills from ethnic Mexican women of the previous generations.

However, this cross-generational learning was not one-sided. Older Tejanas such as Rosie

Castro and Inés Hernández Tovar were very much inspired by the thoughts and actions of new women to the electoral politics, including Irma Mireles and Maria Jiménez. Seasoned and novice LRUP women generated a potent synergy that made gender equality in ethnic third party politics possible.

Another example of the transformative political potential of ethnic Mexican women in the repressive rural areas of South Texas is LRUP founder, Virginia Múzquiz. Múzquiz’s first foray into electoral politics was in 1963 when she worked closely with PASO in the Los

Cinco campaign in Crystal City. She played a critical role in the second take-over of Crystal

City and served as the national chair of the partido from 1972 to 1974. Múzquiz also organized “conventions, met frequently with the Executive Committee of the Party, and helped start an intense voter registration campaign.”69 She was also the statewide LRUP consultant on the Texas election laws. A strong supporter of MPLR, she dreamed of seeing

“women develop their capabilities to their fullest.”70 Múzquiz dedicated time to educating

Tejanas on the political process and how to politicize various ethnic Mexican women. She also took up the task of heading the MPLR in Zavala County. Due to her robust race and gender endeavors, Múzquiz’s won the Chicana of the Year award in Crystal City in 1971 and

69 Lupe De Leon Lozano, “Virgina Múzquiz: Community Organizer,” Hembra: Hermanas en Movimiento Brotando Raices de Aztlan (Spring 1976): 21.

70 De Leon Lozano, “Virgina Múzquiz,” 21.

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1973.71 Like Hernández, she reminded Tejanas that ethnic Mexican women have a long history of advocating on behalf of women while advancing the political rights of the broader

Raza community.

Fulfilling the LRUP’s stated mission to actively recruit ethnic Mexican women,

Tejanas increased female engagement in the partido in 1973. The women’s caucus was not only committed to maintaining women gatherings, but also devised ways to ensure female participation in LRUP statewide conferences and meetings. According to María Elena

Martínez:

We felt that there needed to be nurseries at conferences so that a woman with a child could come and participate. We would have places where the children could be and be taken care of while [women] were participating in whatever deliberation or business that we had to take care of…[We wanted] total participation of the women and not just taking a back seat and just accepting that it was going to be the men— that we were just going to be doing the washing and the cleaning and you know, the set-up.72

Tejanas in MPLR understood that they had to make a concerted effort to include women in the decision-making process; otherwise, men would dominate the meetings as they had done in Crystal City before Tejana intervention. Strong Tejana involvement counteracted measures to relegate women to cooking and cleaning.

Throughout the 1970s, MPLR continued to carve spaces for nourishing Tejana feminist formations and supporting female representation in LRUP. Women in the caucus confronted the “macho male organizers that were always putting down females for being

71 Ibid.

72 Maria Elena Martínez, interview by author, audio recording, June 18, 2014, Austin, TX.

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strong feminists [due to] their ignorance about the role of females in struggles and movements” and worked toward total involvement of La Raza in the political process.73

Recasting La Familia in the Electoral Sphere

Tejanas in the movimiento grappled with imagined nationalistic conceptions of la familia that reaffirmed hetero-normative patriarchy and relegated women to prescribed gender roles. Historian Maylei Blackwell contends that Chicanas in the movimiento felt pressured to couch female liberation in the language of la familia for fear of being labeled

Anglo feminists and traitors to the struggle.74 Building on historical sociologist David

Montejano’s analysis of the LRUP Platform on La Mujer, Dionne Espinoza argues that women “negotiated the familia concept to clarify and support Chicanas’ claim to equal representation,” as evidenced by the inclusion of the Equal Rights Amendment and the call to incorporate women in the decision-making process.75 I assert that Tejana community feminists in LRUP went beyond negotiating the metaphor of la familia to ensuring the

Chicana/o political project was one that encompassed all members of La Raza. In this way,

Tejanas participated in what sociologist Maxine Baca Zinn describes as political familism— they transformed “patterns of male exclusiveness” and forged “new directions for achieving the collective goals of La Raza.”76 That is, Tejanas shaped the political arena by vigilantly

73 Daniel Bustamante, interview by author, audio recording, May 20, 2014, Houston, TX.

74 Richard T. Rodriguez, Next of Kin: The Family in Chicano/a Cultural Politics (Durham: Duke University Press, 2009) and Maylei Blackwell, Chicana Power: Contested Histories of Feminism in the Chicano Movement (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2011).

75 Espinoza, “The Partido Belongs to Those Who Will Work for It,” 195-196.

76 Maxine Baca Zinn coined the term political familism to describe the ways the family unit is the building block of cultural and political liberation. For Baca Zinn, Chicana engagement in political familism 168

ensuring the inclusion of “working mothers, career women, [and] housewives.”77 Tejanas’ conception of the family was a collective political unit that went beyond nationalist interpretations of traditional sexual politics.

Tejanas in LRUP openly challenged the patriarchal familia discourse by deconstructing the power dynamics of sexism. In “Chicanas and Politics: An Overview and a

Case Study,” community feminist Evey Chapa collaborated with Armando Gutierrez to dissect intra-ethnic sexism. They argued:

The only useful purpose [sexism] serves, is to reinforce those who control the econopolitical system of any given society—the ruling elites. Just as racial or cultural differences are used by these elites to divide groups whose interests are actually similar, such is the function of sexism. It is devastating enough to have divisions along ethnic and racial lines, but when divisions exist within these groups, the development of a sense of group solidarity, not to mention class solidarity, is virtually impossible. The end result is that unity within, as well as between, oppressed groups becomes highly difficult to achieve, thus perpetuating an oppressive social structure.78

Chapa and Gutierrez called upon Tejanas/os to seriously interrogate the ways the dominant structure reinforces patriarchy and thwarts grassroots community cohesion. They contended that solidarity across sex lines and the rejection of male superiority was part and parcel to

Tejana and Tejano liberation. To think otherwise would be playing into the controlling hands of the elite. More important, it would be denying the legacy of ethnic Mexican female

“participation at all levels, as propagandists, suffragists, army officers, and political activists.”79 Chapa—with the aid of Tejanas in Austin, Houston, and San Antonio—worked

allows for the transformation of traditional female and male roles. Maxine Baca Zinn, “Political Familism: Toward Sex Role Equality in Chicano Families,” Aztlán: A Journal of Chicano Studies 1 (Spring 1975), 13-26.

77 No author, “Party Platform on Chicanas, 1972,” 169.

78 Evey Chapa and Armando Gutierrez, “Chicanas in Politics: An Overview and Case Study,” National Association of Chicana and Chicano Studies Annual Conference Proceedings (January 1, 1975), 140.

79 Chapa and Gutierrez, “Chicanas in Politics: An Overview and Case Study,” 145.

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to recast la familia as a concept encompassing the politicization and empowerment of both women and men. As Tejana community feminists recruited LRUP members across the state, they fought for collective political participation by bringing women into the political process.

In addition to engaging in structural analysis of sex and oppression, Tejanas recruited women into the fray of historically male electoral spaces in order to democratize the political landscape. According to Rosie Castro, “the idea was that it was a family thing. It is not just a guy thing or a woman thing. It’s a family and if you have that completeness, you are going to be much more successful…We always saw it as that you had to organize as a family. I think we were very successful in doing that.”80 The women’s caucus played a critical role in putting into practice the party platform stating, “only through full participation of all members of the family can a strong force be developed to deal with the problems that face La

Raza.”81 Indeed, it emboldened Tejanas, as Linda Del Toro recalls, to “create our own workshops so that we can support women.” Del Toro took it upon herself to further

“encourage men that came to [the general] meetings to encourage their wives, girlfriends, or daughters—to help them become integrated.”82

While galvanizing all of La Raza to participate in ethnic third politics, Tejanas worked to dispel the myth that only men engaged in and directed political parties. Tejanas appealed to diverse ethnic Mexican women by working alongside veteran political actors

María L. Hernández and Virginia Múzquiz. Tejanas also proved that they were politically competent when recruiting men into the partido. Irma Mireles recalls, “Men out in the

80 Castro, interview by author.

81 No author, “Party Platform on Chicanas, 1972,” 168.

82 Del Toro, interview.

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community would not respect us--unless [we were] aggressive in terms of what we had to say. Once they heard that we actually knew what we were talking about and perhaps even knew more than [them], then you started to have the respect and understanding.”83

Additionally, some Tejanas chose not to date the LRUP male leadership, convinced that relationships with the leaders of the party would undermine their inclusion in the decision- making process. Understanding that Tejanas had to work to combat heteropartriarchal sexual politics within the ethnic Mexican community, Maria Jiménez decided not to date male leaders and encouraged other Tejanas to follow suit.84 Like Jiménez, Mireles resisted patriarchal tendencies in LRUP by deciding early-on that she would not date male activists, believing that for a woman to “really [be] respected by the men in the Movement” they “had to keep their private lives out of the political scene.85 Jiménez and Mireles sought the total liberation of all members of the broad Tejana/o family through LRUP. As community feminists, they fought for both racial and gender equality and also demonstrated that women could play key roles in electoral campaigns.

Tejanas rebuffed notions that women could not be formidable political actors by running as LRUP political candidates. Intervening as the face of the partido—the people that men and women would readily associate with ethnic third party politics—Tejanas destabilized patriarchal notions of the political family where men were in charge of the political affairs of their household. During the first statewide LRUP initiative in 1972, Alma

Canales ran for lieutenant governor. Only twenty-four years old, Canales was officially too

83 Mireles, interview.

84 Jiménez, interview by author.

85 Irma Mireles, Interview by José Angel Gutiérrez, San Antonio, June 6, 1998, Tejano Voices.

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young to serve as lieutenant governor. Her candidacy intended to represent “a new involvement of la mujer in politics” and prove that women “working together, [could] bring success” to LRUP.86 Reimagining the political family, Martha Cotera, Evey Chapa, Ino

Alvarez, Luz Gutiérrez, Rosie Castro, and Licha Compean formed a women’s team to promote Canales’ campaign.87 Canales’ biography outlined her established commitment to collective ethnic self-determination as the chief writer and editor of ¡Ya Mero!, an activist in the farmworkers movement, and a founder of the South Texas alternative Chicana/o college,

Colegio Jacinto Trevino.88 Beyond addressing racial equality in her platform, Canales held workshops on women’s issues and the movimiento while campaigning at Texas universities.89

Her promotion of Tejana community feminisms was an extension of her service on the

Chicana/women’s liberation research committee and her position on the state executive committee. While Canales’ bid for lieutenant governor was designed to make a point, the promotion of her campaign showed new members that women were central to the familial political unit and intended to be taken seriously as both political actors and women’s rights advocates.

In the same vein as Canales, Martha Cotera retooled the concept of la familia by navigating the male-dominated electoral terrain to advocate on behalf of the community,

86 “Mujeres por Alma Canales,” La Raza Unida Party Newsletter, June 1972.

87 The Poll List, Box 2, Folder 14, Raza Unida Party Records, 1969-1979, Campaign Materials 1972, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries.

88 Alma Canales for Lieutenant Governor, Box 2 Folder 4, Raza Unida Party Records, 1969-1979, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries.

89 Alma Canales, “La Chicana and the Movement,” workshop, Conference on Chicano Politics, Los Chicanos at Southern Methodist University, Dallas, Texas, April 15, 1972.

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politicize ethnic Mexican women, and address gender equality. She ran in 1972 for State

Board of Education under the LRUP ticket. Convinced that years of experience agitating for educational reform made her a perfect candidate for the position, Cotera ran a bilingual and bicultural platform. Cotera believed community-informed education was critical to Tejana/o survival as education is the basis of political advancement. She made speeches on the campaign trail stating “bilingual and bicultural education [was] too important to be left up to the federal government in the area of funding…it had to be a matter of state concern and local concern.”90 Cotera garnered strong support in from Tejanas. While in Crystal City in the early 1970s, she collaborated with LRUP mujeres to document the voting power of female constituents and to conduct conferences aimed at giving women a “strong dose of their political responsibility to run for office.”91 Beyond her educational expertise, Cotera captured the attention of Tejana voters through her speeches on the legacy of ethnic Mexican fights for women’s rights and conducting feminist consciousness-raising sessions at MPLR conferences.

Canales’ and Cotera’s community feminist work and political engagement emboldened other Tejanas to affect change in local and state affairs and further demonstrate that ethnic Mexican women were astute political actors. In 1976, Irma Mireles tapped into the legacy of Tejana feminist interventions and became the first Latina to serve on the San

90 Martha Cotera, interview by Joyce Langenegger, audio recording, March 3, 1973, Baylor University Program for Oral History, Baylor University, Waco, TX.

91 “Chicana Feminism,” Armando Gutiérrez Interview with Martha Cotera, Onda Latina: The Mexican American Experience, aired May 18, 1978.

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Antonio River Authority. 92 Echoing Canales and Cotera, Mireles did not wait for electoral opportunities to be handed to her. As she remembers:

At different times in Raza Unida we would talk about those [local] positions that exist that no one ever runs [for]…one of them was a commissioner on the San Antonio River Authority…I remember telling [Mario Compean] that I was going to run. He said something like ‘Yeah, that is a good idea. You can do that.’ I said, ‘I am not asking for permission. I am telling you that I am going to run.’ And I did [run] and I beat an incumbent.93

During her tenure, she battled to carve a space in the entrenched, male-centered politics of the Jim Crow South where ethnic Mexicans representatives often capitulated to Anglo power holders at the expense of racial solidarity. According to Mireles:

It was a rather frustrating experience as I soon found out that ‘el carnalismo’ [brotherhood and sisterhood] that was shared among [LRUP] members did not exist among Chicano elected officials. There was definitely a ‘good old-boy’ network among Chicanos that did not allow mujeres….I was pretty much left by myself.94

The Texas “good old-boy” network did not just alienate ethnic Mexican women, but was hostile to female politicians in general. When Anglo feminist Frances “Sissy” Farenthold became a legislator in the Texas House of Representatives in 1968, she was barred from committee meetings at male-only establishments and was treated as an outsider.95 In this political climate, Farenthold along with Barbara Jordan worked to garner support for the

Equal Rights Amendment.96 A decade later, Mireles encountered Chicano politicians in the

92 Rodney Stinson, “Chicana’ breathes a little life into Raza Unida,” San Antonio Express, January 25, 1977.

93 Mireles, interview.

94 Irma Mireles, “Raza Unida y La Mujer?—Raza Unida y La Gente!,” Irma Mireles Personal Collection.

95 Judith N. McArthur and Harold L. Smith, Texas Through Women’s Eyes: The Twentieth-Century Experience (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2010); 224.

96 Judie Gammage, “Quest for Equality: An Historical Overview of Women’s Rights Activism in Texas, 1890-1975” (Ph.D. diss., North Texas State University, 1982).

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Democratic Party that did not possess a sense of brotherhood and sisterhood fostered in

LRUP. In disrupting the male leadership of LRUP, Chapa, Canales, Cotera and others had generated an environment where Tejanas like Irma Mireles could address women’s rights and play a meaningful role in ethnic third party politics. Tejana interventions in LRUP made the

1971 Party Platform on La Mujer possible—the LRUP was the only official political party in

Texas to have a section addressing women in their platform at the time.97

Tejanas’ multi-faceted maneuvers in LRUP—from deconstructing how sexism reinforces ethnic oppression to demonstrating female political prowess—is what Maxine

Baca Zinn describes as female destabilization of patriarchal politics and the disruption of

“sex role stability of Chicano families.”98 Tejana agitation for total family participation not only departed from idealized male and female roles, but also transformed how women traversed the electoral terrain. This familia spirit provided ethnic Mexican women the necessary fortitude to intervene in the Anglo dominated Texas political landscape.

Inter-ethnic Grassroots Campaigning

In addition to championing social justice for ethnic Mexicans, Tejanas played critical roles in generating cross-racial movements for political reform. While the partido touted itself as the only alternative for Chicana/os and concentrated its political campaigning in the ethnic Mexican areas of South Texas in the early years, LRUP repackaged its platform as it sought statewide growth and influence. This broad-based appeal made strategic sense for garnering votes in urban areas such as Houston where there was a significant African

97 Chapa, “Mujeres Por La Raza Unida,” 178.

98 Baca Zinn, “Political Familism, 21.

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American community. In 1974, Maria Jiménez ran under the LRUP ticket for state representative, building upon the cross-racial coalition work she had cultivated as a student leader in UH MAYO. Jiménez’s foray in electoral politics demonstrates the ways Tejanas advanced the LRUP goal of inter-ethnic grassroots campaigning for structural changes.

Jiménez decided to run as a state representative for the 87th district because she firmly believed in what LRUP had to offer. She recalls:

I was asked to be a candidate for state representative. I was an unwilling candidate [because] I really did not like electoral politics, but I believed in La Raza Unida which was community involvement and the willingness to channel that community involvement into an independent political process.99

By the time she ran under the LRUP ticket, the partido had made overtures to the African

American population by declaring that the Democrats “took for granted that the Black vote will always be there,” and that they never consulted Blacks “on a mass level, or involved them in policy making.” The partido stated that the “United Peoples Party known as La Raza

Unida Party to [Chicanas/os]” was familiar with the “problems that confront Black people every day.”100

In 1974, Jiménez and other LRUP women amplified their commitment to cross-racial solidarity by recruiting African Americans as party members and inviting Amiri Baraka— secretary general of the National Black Political Assembly—to be a keynote speaker at the state convention in Houston, Texas. As Jiménez remembers:

We started talking to [African Americans] about this possibility so that they would become our partner in the African-American areas of the district, primarily the Fifth and Third Ward[s] in Houston. They did not take our word just because they knew us—they actually had a delegation go down to Crystal City….and observed what had

99 Jiménez, interview by Cotera.

100 United Peoples Party (Raza Unida), Box 2 Folder 4, Raza Unida Party Records, 1969-1979, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries.

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happened there and the results and once they came back they made the decision to join us. So we worked with them on knocking on doors in the African-American areas of the district.101

Tapping into the cross-racial solidarity forged as a student at the University of Houston,

Jiménez recruited fellow African American activists Deloyd Parker, Ester King, and

Omowali Luthuli to go door knocking in Houston’s Black and Brown neighborhoods. As discussed in Chapter 2, Tejana community feminists engaged in a cooperative leadership style that opened spaces for cross-racial alliances. Accordingly, Inés Hernández Avila, Gloria

Ramirez, and other local party women joined Jiménez in building Brown and Black political power. As Jiménez canvassed the streets of Houston with Luthuli, they explained the purpose of LRUP. Jiménez’s platform spoke to the Black and Brown issues of adequate funding for education, legal guarantees for equal opportunities, and the right for workers to organize for better conditions and livable wages. According to Jiménez:

When we were knocking on doors [we would say that] we are representing the Raza Unida Party. We had to immediately translate—it is the People United Party and this is why we are doing this. It would take a long time to explain to people why it was an independent movement. To a certain extent, it fit in with our concept of educating the community…developing a conscious decision.102

After generating a cross-racial grassroots campaign, Jiménez ended her LRUP candidacy with roughly 17 percent of the vote.103 While she did not win her bid for State

Representative, her campaign bolstered Black and Brown alliances that would prove vital for future social and political endeavors in the areas of immigrant rights and police brutality. For

101 Jiménez, interview by Cotera.

102 Jiménez, interview by author.

103 La Raza Unida Party Reunion Program Book, July 6th & 7th, 2012, p. 30.

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Jiménez, engaging in the electoral process was less about winning than it was a vehicle for cultivating grassroots power. She argued:

I think we were all very focused on the building of the community power, as opposed to winning the position. I think in that sense, the door to door contact with people was really what we were looking for and...that we would be left with a series of contact at the community base that would allow us to build independent political processes from there…For me, the trust that we had in each other in terms of the players involved on both in the African-American community and ourselves has continued over the years, in the sense that when we see each other, when we call upon each other to participate here and there, we do [it] without questions...because we had that experience in Raza Unida.104

For Jiménez, grassroots empowerment and coalition building was central to self-determined movements. Moreover, cross-racial community organizing created spaces for mutual trust, a key element in generating collective political power. Tejanas who also engaged in the electoral area shared Jiménez’s perspective. Rosie Castro stated:

During the Raza Unida, my mother, who had been a naturalized citizen and who had never voted, voted for the first time. It also got other people in the barrio who never saw people who looked like them [and] who had the same ideas, run as candidates. Now, [they] were seeing folks articulate a kind of belief system, if you will, that they always had…Heretofore, nobody had thought about running. You weren’t going to win. But for us it wasn’t about winning at the time as much as it was about getting those ideas across and being able to mobilize and politicize.105

Beyond cultivating a cross-racial grassroots base, Jiménez’s campaign further signaled to ethnic Mexican women that they could run as political candidates under the LRUP ticket.

Tejanas that ran under the LRUP ticket in the 1970s were among the first ethnic Mexican women to campaign for state and local positions in the Anglo, male dominated political landscape.

104 Jiménez, interview by Cotera.

105 Castro, interview by author.

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Conclusion

In 1978, during Maria Elena Martínez’s tenure as state chair, LRUP ran its last slate of Tejana/o candidates. By this time, the party was crumbling under the weight of internal and external pressures, including insufficient funding, power struggles among the leadership,

“stringent election and finance laws,” and “the omnipotent power exercised by Democrats at all level of politics.106

From 1970-1978, Tejanas agitated for full membership and women’s rights in the partido. They claimed the roles of county chairwomen, campaign managers, party organizers, and political candidates. In order to increase ethnic Mexican women’s presence in the political sphere and to nourish a Tejana feminist thought, they forged a women’s caucus within LRUP. Their political familism expanded the notion of la familia and fostered the inclusion of all members of La Raza in the political process. Tejanas also played a central role in advancing cross-racial grassroots alliances.

Reflecting on the gender dynamics in the partido, Linda Del Toro stated that Tejanas grappled with sexism in terms of receiving more encouragement from one another than from their male counterparts. However, she was grateful for her experiences as a campaign manager and county chairwoman in LRUP. Del Toro could not imagine having these roles as an ethnic Mexican woman in the conservative Texas Democratic Party of the 1970s.107 As

Tejanas gained political capital through LRUP, they also intervened in the Texas Women’s

Political Caucus (TWPC) and the National Women’s Political Caucus (NWPC). Their

106 Navarro, La Raza Unida Party, 79.

107 Del Toro, interview.

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participation in TWPC and NWPC extended their commitment to representing community feminisms in the male-dominated political landscape and offered a critical opportunity to shape the mainstream Anglo Feminist Movement.

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Chapter 5 Encounters with the Mainstream Anglo Feminist Movement: Affirming Community Feminisms Amid Racism and Paternalism

I decided a long time ago, when I was a kid, that life had to be better for women. Gloria Guardiola1

On March 12, 2014, Latina Voices: Smart Talk—a weekly television and internet- streamed talk show in Houston that discusses mainstream topics from a Latina perspective— featured Gloria Steinem and local feminists Harla Kaplan and Gloria Guardiola. Heralding

Steinem as the “mother of the women’s movement,” hosts Minerva Perez, Sofia Angrogué, and Laura Lopez played several clips of their interview with Steinem in which they asked her about the historic 1977 International Women’s Year (IWY) Conference and the future of the

Women’s Movement.2 Perez, Angrogué, and Lopez expressed their admiration for Steinem, agreeing that she was the “near singular voice” in the fight for women’s rights.3

Supplementing their story on Steinem, the hosts of Latina Voices: Smart Talk brought

Kaplan and Guardiola into their studio to ask them how they became involved in the battle for gender equality, and how the 1977 IWY fundamentally shaped their feminist trajectory.

While Guardiola stated that she was “amazed by all of the women” that were at the conference for the “purpose [of making] the world better for women,” she did not see it as “a turning point in [her] story,” as she had “decided a long time ago, when [she] was a kid, that life had to be better for women.”4

1 Gloria Guardiola, interview by author, audio recording, February 6, 2014, Sugar Land, TX.

2 “Episode 96,” Minerva Perez, Sofia Angrogué, and Laura Lopez, Latina Voices: Smart Talk, aired March 12, 2014, on PBS.

3 “Episode 96,” Latina Voices: Smart Talk.

4 Ibid.

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Guardiola grew up in farming communities in and around Dewitt County, Texas and witnessed gender disparity at an early age. Feeling as though she was too young to raise a child on her own, especially with her partner serving in World War II, Guardiola’s mother sent her daughter to be raised by her father’s family. Guardiola and her female relatives labored on her paternal family’s land at the behest of her grandfather who firmly believed that farmwork was not “men’s or women’s work—it [was] just work to be done.”5 When it came to household labor, however, this work remained the singular domain of women. As

Guardiola recalls,

I realized that my grandfather expected [women] to do all the work in the labor fields—my aunts and myself at a very young age. . . . My poor aunts would get up at four or five in the morning and they would make the tortillas and leave the beans or whatever and then they would go work in the fields, come home [and] cook lunch. My uncles told me [that] when they were young, before I was born, they would take naps while my aunts cleaned up the kitchen. Then, everybody went to the fields. . . . Bottom line is that I noticed that gender difference. That women were expected to do all the housework and help out [with] the men’s work, but men were not expected to help out doing women’s work.6

Guardiola’s intra-ethnic experiences with gender discrimination galvanized her to advocate for ethnic Mexican women’s equality both within and outside of the Chicana/o

Movement in the 1960s and 1970s. Not only did she push for gender liberation in the barrio

Mexican American Youth Organization (barrio MAYO), but she also participated in Tejana counterpublics and co-founded the tri-ethnic Houston Inner City National Organization for

Women (NOW) chapter. 7 As an activist in barrio MAYO, Guardiola collaborated with

Yolanda Garza Birdwell to write a bilingual booklet that celebrated the thoughts and actions

5 Guardiola, interview.

6 Ibid.

7 “Gloria Emphasizes Minorities,” Breakthrough: A Feminist Newspaper, January 1976, 3. 182

of nueva Tejanas who not only railed against racism, but also fought for female empowerment. Additionally, while pursuing Tejana/o self-determination, she served as an organizer for the national 1971 La Conferencia de Mujeres por La Raza (Women for the

People Conference) that convened in Houston, and co-hosted the workshop on sexual liberation. When she later concentrated her efforts in the Houston Inner City NOW in the mid-1970s, Guardiola tackled the issues of ethnic and low-income women while encouraging members to participate in community and political endeavors. She asserted that the purpose of the group was “not so much to achieve power in an organization, but to politicize the group and to give women the self-confidence to become active.”8

Tejanas, like Guardiola, were not new to the fight for gender liberation when women from across the nation flocked to Houston to attend the 1977 IWY Conference. This chapter argues that Tejanas had a history of intervening in the Anglo Feminist Movement (AFM) for the purpose of bringing their homegrown community feminisms to the table and transforming the gender politics of the movimiento. Through a close examination of Tejana involvement in the Texas Women’s Political Caucus (TWPC), the National Women’s Political Caucus

(NWPC), and the 1977 IWY, this chapter chronicles the ways Tejana bolstered their dual commitment to gender liberation and La Raza while intervening in the racist and paternalistic environments of the AFM. By the late 1970s, Tejanas had a robust and critical understanding of how Southern racism shaped their gender oppression, and were unwilling to privilege gender rights over racial justice.

8 “Gloria Emphasizes Minorities,” 3.

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In the early 1970s, Tejanas disrupted the middle-class Anglo orientation of TWPC and NWPC to address the needs of ethnic Mexican women. Refusing to abandon their commitment to racial equality, they pursued a feminist agenda rooted in the collective freedom of La Raza and consistently discussed how to best balance feminism and nationalism. While participating in the mainstream AFM, Tejanas witnessed racist and paternalistic attitudes that stifled their broad community feminist efforts. Mainstream Anglo feminists often treated Tejanas as passive women of color who were “not active participants of the woman’s movement, but mere observers.”9 These hostile interactions ultimately did not deter Tejanas’ efforts to reframe regional and national feminist plans of action, as they recognized the importance of local, state, and federal laws and programs in ushering change in their communities.

The dominant narrative of the U.S. women’s movement centers on Anglo feminist ideological (liberal, social, radical, and cultural) fault lines in the 1960s and 1970s and renders ethnic Mexican feminist thought invisible.10 While scholars trace the ways the Black

Power Movement and fights for civil rights sparked the women’s movement, they underscore

Anglo women’s struggle to eliminate sexual oppression as the source of all oppression and consequently, do not document how ethnic Mexican women and African American women pursued gender equality within broader battles for ethnic self-determination. Historians

Maylei Blackwell and Marisela R. Chavez deconstruct the white framing of women’s

9 Martha P. Cotera, “Among the Feminists: Racist Classist Issues,” The Chicana Feminist (Austin: Information Systems Development, 1977), 40.

10 Alice Echols, Daring to be Bad: Radical Feminism in America 1967-1975 (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1989); Sara Evans, Personal Politics: The Roots of Women’s Liberation in the Civil Rights Movement & the New Left (New York: Vintage Books, 1980); Jo Freeman, “The Origins of the Women’s Liberation Movement,” American Journal of Sociology 78:4 (1973): 792-811; and Ruth Rosen, The World Split Open: How the Modern Women’s Movement Changed America (New York: Penguin, 2006).

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liberation, documenting the multiple, transnational, and intergenerational ways ethnic

Mexican women engaged in the fight for gender equality.11 As sociologist Maxine Baca Zinn and feminist scholar Bonnie Thornton Dill note, to underscore multiracial feminist movements is to “go beyond a mere recognition of diversity and difference among women to examine structures of domination” and how “the centrality of race, of institutionalized racism, and of struggles against racial oppression [link] women of color feminist perspectives.”12 To that end, this chapter highlights the ways Tejanas cemented their community feminisms and represented the issues of women of color in the South while disrupting the AFM.

Tejanas and the National Women’s Political Caucus

In 1971, approximately 324 women from across the nation convened in Washington,

D.C. to form the National Women’s Political Caucus (NWPC).13 This organization sought to reach out to and represent the issues of a cross-section of women, including the woman who sits “at home with little control over her own life;” the woman who goes “on welfare

11 Maylei Blackwell, Chicana Power: Contested Histories of Feminism in the Chicano Movement (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2011) and Marisela R. Chavez, “We Have a Long, Beautiful History’: Chicana Feminist Trajectories and Legacies,” in No Permanent Waves: Recasting Histories of U.S. Feminism, ed. Nancy A. Hewitt -(New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 2010): 77-97.

12 Maxine Baca Zinn and Bonnie Thornton Dill, “Theorizing Difference from Multiracial Feminism,” Feminist Studies 22:2 (1996): 321. For more on multiracial feminism and examining U.S. feminisms through a racial lens, see Evelyn Higginbotham, “African-American Women’s History and the Metalanguage of Race,” Signs 17:2 (1992): 251-274; Benita Roth, Separate Roads to Feminism: Black, Chicana, and White Feminist Movements in America’s Second Wave (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2003); and Becky Thompson, “Multiracial Feminism: Recasting the Chronology of Second Wave Feminism,” Feminist Studies 28:2 (2002): 336-360.

13 Betty Friedan, It Changed My Life: Writings on the Women’s Movement (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1998) and Bella Abzug and Cynthia Edgar, “Women and Politics: The Struggle for Representation,” The Massachusetts Review 13: ½ (Winter-Spring 1972): 17-24.

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because, even when she can get a job, she makes about half of the money paid to a man for the same work;” and minority women who endure “the stigma of being twice-different from the white male ruling class.”14 In order to transform the white male political landscape and unite women “against sexism, racism, institutional violence, and poverty,” NWPC forged a plan of action focused on supporting women candidates; confronting party structures; training “women to organize caucuses on a state and local level;” and drafting and supporting legislation to “meet the needs of women.”15 It also pushed for “women of all ages, races, and socio-economic groups [to have an] equal voice in decision-making and selection of candidates at all levels” and for the formation of “coalitions with other oppressed groups, and all human groups which share the goals of fighting against racism, sexism, violence and poverty.”16 While NWPC’s founding vision was inclusive and addressed the intersections of race, gender, and class, the needs of radical women, young women, and Black women were particularly represented. Within NWPC, radical, young, and Black women forged caucuses to advocate for their specific agendas. The Black Caucus pushed for the “liberation of women in all phases of program priorities must be unequivocally committed to the specific goals set forth by black women of America,” and called for NWPC to “disavow and condemn all forms of racism, specifically related to organizational framework.”17

14 Report of the Organizing Conference National Women’s Political Caucus, n.d., Box 3U133b, Folder 21, Francis Tarlon Farenthold Papers, 1913-2016, National Women’s Political Caucus, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries.

15 Report of the Organizing Conference National Women’s Political Caucus, n.d., Box 3U133b, Folder 21, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections.

16 Ibid.

17 Ibid.

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While Chicana issues were not represented in NWPC’s founding principles, the formation of the state affiliate, the Texas Women’s Political Caucus (TWPC), provided

Tejanas an opportunity to intervene in the AFM. Materializing a couple of months after the

1971 meeting in Washington D.C., TWPC’s mission was to organize “Texas women in order that they may unite in political action especially against sexism, racism, institutional violence, and poverty.”18 A central goal of the state caucus was to increase female representation at all levels of government through conventions and candidate endorsements.

It also lobbied for the Equal Rights Amendment and other legislation that advanced women’s rights, including reproductive freedom. During the embryonic stage of TWPC, Tejanas in La

Raza Unida Party (LRUP) mobilized to expand their political power and shape broader fights for women’s liberation, including education, political, employment, and health issues as it related to women of color. Approximately sixty Tejanas attended the first TWPC State

Convention in Mesquite, Texas in 1972. Leveraging their numerical strength, Tejanas formed a Chicana Caucus at the meeting. Among the key players of the caucus were LRUP members

Maria Elena Martínez, Ino Alvarez, Viviana Santiago, Alma Canales, Evey Chapa, Martha

Cotera, and Dolores Rodriguez Hernandez.19

Augmenting their work in the Mujeres Por La Raza (Women for the People) caucus in el partido, Tejanas carved their own space in TWPC through the Chicana Caucus to advocate for their specific agenda through resolutions and increase the recruitment of women of color in the political process. In doing so, Tejanas resisted efforts to relegate their

18 Texas Women’s Political Caucus Organizing Conference, Box 12, Subject Files, Texas Women’s Political Caucus, Martha Cotera Papers, 1964-, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries.

19 Martha P. Cotera, Profile on the Mexican American Woman (Austin: Information Systems Development, 1976), 173.

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perspectives to the margins. In her speech at the state convention, Cotera declared that

Tejanas as “Chicanas and women” have “nothing now because of these two factors” and could not “do worse than we are doing now with the present system.”20 For Cotera, Tejanas were at the bottom of the social and political latter due to both their race and gender background. In stating this, Cotera highlighted how the Juan Crow South fueled the white male power structure, crippling ethnic Mexican women’s political voice. Recognizing that

Tejanas “were seeking all possibilities for the development of [Chicanas/os],” she encouraged Tejana participation in the women’s movement.21 That is, Cotera found value in

Tejana involvement in the AFM and particularly, TWPC, as Tejanas were pursuing all avenues that facilitated their advancement. However, she was adamant that Anglo feminists acknowledge difference and power relations among women.

Although Cotera generally supported TWPC’s goals, she believed that the organization had to confront the controlling images and attitudes that threatened political unity among Tejanas and Anglo women. She declared:

The Anglo women’s chauvinistic attitude is: ‘Look, we are achieving political status and we’re going to liberate ourselves and then liberate Chicanas, Blacks and all the women in the world.’ They always assume the minority women’s plight is worse. . . .[when] the minority woman is usually ahead . . . .In our grassroots movement, ‘una mujer con huevos—(a woman who is strong)—a woman who thinks and acts on community issues—is respected and does assume posts of responsibility. In Crystal City, for example, we have Chicanas as City Commission members, and in all administrative boards which make local decisions.22

20 Martha P. Cotera, “Feminism As We See It,” The Chicana Feminist (Austin: Information Systems Development, 1977), 17.

21 Cotera, “Feminism As We See It,” 17.

22 Cotera, “Feminism As We See It,” 17-18.

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As outlined in Chapter 4, Tejanas mobilized within LRUP as community feminists and asserted themselves as leaders and candidates in this ethnic third party. According to Cotera, it was through their grassroots activism that Tejanas achieved power within and outside the movimiento. Tejanas, emboldened by their early experiences in merging anti-racism and anti- sexism, sought to influence the AFM and organizations like TWPC. As a Chicana Caucus representative, Cotera challenged mainstream Anglo feminists to recognize the power of racism and evaluate if the women’s movement is “a move to place just another layer of racist

Anglo dominance over minority peoples.”23 She further reminded attendees of the state convention that “white women—the wives, lovers and mothers of those in power—will be heard above the clamor of male and female minorities” and thus, should “put [themselves] on the line against racism.”24 In these formative years, Tejanas came together to disrupt the classist and racist hierarchies that had marginalized Tejanas and Tejanos for decades. The strong Tejana presence at the state convention proved effective—TWPC’s statement on minority groups asserted that “politically castrated Chicanos” had “been forced to seek an alternative to the existing political structure to insure self-determination,” and that the women’s political caucus supported “new political expressions such as La Raza Unida

[Party].”25 Moreover, TWPC endorsed Alma Canales’ bid for Lieutenant Governor, stating that the organization “seeks to encourage qualified women to participate as candidates in the political process.”26

23 Cotera, “Feminism As We See It,” 19.

24 Cotera, “Feminism As We See It,” 19.

25 Texas Women’s Political Caucus Organizing Conference, Box 12, Subject Files, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections.

26 Ibid.

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As active members of TWPC, Tejanas attended the inaugural NWPC biennial convention in Houston in 1973 not only to advance women’s liberation, but also to continue raising their concerns as women of color while dispelling the myth that they were passive or uninvolved.27 Touted as the first national women’s political convention since Seneca Falls in

1848, the purpose of the NWPC meeting was to formalize the structure of the organization.

Frances “Sissy” Farenthold, who served as the first female legislator in the Texas House of

Representatives and unsuccessfully sought the Democratic nomination for Governor in 1972, was convinced by leading Anglo feminists Gloria Steinman, Bella Abzug, and Betty Friedan to run for chairwoman of NWPC. Canvassing for support from the multiple groups at the convention, Farenthold met resistance from Chicanas. They had opted to endorse Martha

McKay, a lawyer from North Carolina who had promised to prioritize Chicana issues in the caucus.28 Gloria Guardiola recalled that Tejanas “gave [Farenthold] a chance to explain her position—what she would do for us—and she would not make a statement; [Farenthold] said she didn’t know specifically how she could help us.”29 For Tejanas, it was imperative that

Anglo feminists understood that “as women within a minority group” they “[confronted] special problems in their effort to develop socially, educationally, economically, and politically in this country.”30 Despite Tejana opposition, Farenthold garnered enough votes to beat McKay 455 to 191, and became chairwoman of TWPC. However, she was immediately

27 Evey Chapa, “Report from the National Women’s Political Caucus,” in Chicana Feminist Thought: The Basic Historical Writings, ed. Alma M. Garcia (New York: Routledge, 1997), 174.

28 K.N., “Women 125 Years after Seneca Falls,” Texas Observer, March 2, 1973, 5.

29 K.N., “Women 125 Years after Seneca Falls,” 5.

30 Report of the Organizing Conference National Women’s Political Caucus, n.d., Box 3U133b, Folder 21, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections.

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pressured by the Chicana Caucus to make an affirmative action statement on Chicana concerns. She promised that “every group in this body has my commitment.”31

To ensure that their distinct community feminisms were represented in NWPC,

Tejanas met with Chicanas from California, New Mexico, Illinois, Washington, D.C., and

Louisiana several times at the convention to create resolutions on education, politics, and employment, and present them through the Chicana Caucus on the floor of the convention.

Tejanas tapped into their experience in grassroots community activism to shape the group’s platform. They looked to their educational activism in MAYO to assert that the “[Chicana/o] community is the most neglected in educational opportunities” and that “women within the community are even more needy of educational development.”32 Accordingly, Tejanas demanded that the Women’s Education Act of 1973 seriously research Chicanas’ educational needs; direct funds towards Chicana recruitment and retention in higher education; include

Chicanas in affirmative action campaigns; and provide support for “Chicanas at all educational levels.”33 Tejanas addressed broader community issues by advocating for the

“incorporation of the Chicano culture into educational systems and textbooks” and the

“active support [of] Spanish/English bilingual/bicultural educational programs.”34

Fighting for women’s rights through a racial lens, Tejanas also vocalized their community feminisms through the politics and employment resolutions. Tejanas were

31 K.N., “Women 125 Years after Seneca Falls,” 5.

32 Chicana Educational Opportunities, Box 12, Subject Files, Texas Women’s Political Caucus, Martha Cotera Papers, 1964-, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries.

33 Chicana Educational Opportunities, Box 12, Subject Files, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections.

34 Ibid.

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convinced that the Democratic and Republican parties held ethnic Mexican women in low regard, as evidenced by “the fact that there [were] very few Chicanos much less Chicanas with decision making powers involved in either of these two parties.”35 Underscoring the multiple electoral opportunities available to Tejanas in LRUP, the Chicana Caucus presented a resolution calling for NWPC to “recognize the Raza Unida Party as an innovative means of political expression for Chicanas and other disenfranchised people” and have “the name of the Raza Unida Party be included in all official and promotional materials which cite the

Democratic and Republican Parties.”36 In the sphere of employment, Tejanas referenced a national strike aimed at ushering better working conditions for Chicanas/os. By the time of the NWPC convention, Chicanas at Farah Manufacturing Company in Texas and New

Mexico had spent ten months striking “to win their right to union representation and some measure of control over their working lives.”37 Taking “positive action to bring the purpose of the [NWPC] as drafted in July of 1971,” the Chicana Caucus pushed for NWPC to endorse the Farah Boycott and call upon local political caucuses to support the boycott.38 Taken together, these resolutions not only affirmed Tejana community feminisms, but also sought to expand the Women’s Movement by foregrounding the triple oppressions of women of color.

Lastly, Tejanas worked with fellow Chicanas from across the nation to create a resolution holding NWPC accountable for excluding ethnic Mexican women. The Chicana

35 Chapa, “Report from the National Women’s Political Caucus,” 176.

36 Ibid.

37 Chapa, “Report from the National Women’s Caucus,” 176.

38 Ibid. For more on the Farah boycott, see Laurie Coyle et al., Women at Farah: An Unfinished Story (El Paso: Reforma, 1979). Magdalena Mora and Adelaida R. del Castillo, Mexican Women in the United States: Struggles Past and Present (Los Angeles: Chicano Studies Research Center, University of California, 1980).

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Caucus declared that “many of our women were having trouble dealing with the Women’s

Caucus,” as “Chicanas were being excluded because they were not being recruited” by the caucus in places such as South Texas.39 For Tejanas, the reason for this exclusion was because racism was “such as integral part of everyday life that Anglo women would not even consider involving Chicanas.”40 This was evidenced by only one of the Chicana attendees of the meeting hearing about the NWPC convention from the organizers, and the rest of the participants being informed about the convention through letters written by Chicanas. These experiences fueled the demand to have Chicana Caucuses in multiple locations. Through

Chicana Caucuses, Chicanas would be able to “participate in the political reality of their own communities” and have “a major role in setting priorities that would focus on the barrios of the nation.”41 This call for multiple Chicana Caucuses faced procedural opposition. The resolution committee recommended that the resolution be sent to the structure committee of

NWPC as it was deemed more of a structural question; the structure committee refused to accept the resolution as they “did not know how to handle the idea.”42 Undeterred, Tejanas presented the resolution to the floor of the convention, and pushed for Chicana Caucuses to be created and to be established and maintained in the same manner as state caucuses. Evey

Chapa recalls that members of NWPC took the resolution “as a slap in the face” because they

“refused to understand why [Tejanas] felt this move was necessary.”43 After much debate,

39 Ibid.

40 Ibid.

41 Chapa, “Report from the National Women’s Political Caucus,” 176.

42 Ibid.

43 Ibid.

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the Chicana Caucus resolution passed and created a pathway for advancing ethnic Mexican women’s political involvement in various barrios. Tejana community feminists walked away from the NWPC feeling proud of the accomplishments made through the Chicana Caucus, but also frustrated with the pushback they received in advancing ethnic Mexican women’s liberation.

Still, Tejanas remained committed to the broader effort of women’s liberation and the

NWPC, and participated in the TWPC State Convention in San Antonio that was held a few months after the NWPC National Convention. Representing LRUP, Becky Pedroza served as a central coordinator of the convention while Lupe Aquiano was on the resolution committee.

Cotera was invited to facilitate the Women in Power in Political Parties” workshop.44 At the meeting, Tejanas worked with Anglo feminists in strategy workshops on filing discrimination complaints, the Equal Rights Amendment, and effective lobbying—issues that resonated with

Tejanas’ Mujeres Por La Raza caucus work in LRUP. Tejanas also re-submitted resolutions that they crafted through the Chicana Caucus at the NWPC meeting, including the education resolution.

At the end of 1973, Tejanas reflected on their interventions in TWPC and NWPC over the past two years. In a women’s meeting at the LRUP Convention in San Antonio,

Bexar County Chairwoman Rosie Castro facilitated the discussion on whether mujeres in el partido should remain active in TWPC and NWPC. 45 Many Tejanas in the room had grown

44 Cathy Bonner Letter to Martha Cotera, June 29, 1973, Box 12, Subject Files, Texas Women’s Political Caucus, Martha Cotera Papers, 1964-, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries.

45 Workshop: Women’s Political Caucus, Box 5, Folder 1, Mujeres por La Raza, 1973-1974, Raza Unida Party Records 1969-1979, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries.

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highly critical of the women’s political caucus. While TWPC had formally endorsed Alma

Canales’ 1972 bid for Lieutenant Governor, the organization “did little to help in [Canales’] campaign.”46 In addition to not knowing the specific issues that plagued Chicanas, NWPC

Chairwoman Farenthold angered Tejanas when she opted to endorse Dolph Briscoe over

LRUP candidate Ramsey Muñiz in the Texas gubernatorial race of 1972 despite professing liberal politics that aligned with Muñiz’s. At the time, Farenthold stated that “she could not remain an active and influential Democrat by supporting a third-party candidate whose only practical hope is to cause the election of Texas’ first Republican governor in a century.”47

That is, Farenthold was convinced that Muñiz’s bid would only throw a wrench in the election of a Democratic governor. Farenthold’s stance confirmed Cotera’s fear that Anglo feminists in the women’s political caucus would “become accessory to [racism] in [their] fight against sexism” by succumbing to “male imposed party affiliation.”48 Moreover,

Tejanas had generated Chicana Caucuses locally and nationally, but remained “at the bottom of the pyramid.”49 While they crafted their own resolutions reflecting their community feminist thought, TWPC and NWPC convention programs largely obscured racial issues.

Workshops at the TWPC convention focused on economic, educational, political, and reproductive power, but did not explicitly tackle racism within the AFM with the exception

46 Workshop: Women’s Political Caucus, Box 5, Folder 1, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections.

47 Chase Untermeyer, “The Politics of Outsiders,” Texas Monthly, September 1974, 26.

48 Cotera, “Feminism As We See It,” 19.

49 Workshop: Women’s Political Caucus, Box 5, Folder 1, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections.

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of sessions such as Cotera’s on achieving electoral strength within political parties.50 The women’s political caucus proclaimed that “only by uniting together can [women] make a difference in 1974.”51 As 1973 drew to a close it was hard for Tejanas to see how cross-racial unity could manifest in a feminist movement that did not seriously incorporate ethnic

Mexican women in the decision making process and failed to intentionally address racism alongside sexism. Tejanas’ negative experiences with TWPC and NWPC led them unanimously adopt a resolution to withdraw from the women’s political caucus at the LRUP women’s meeting.

Tejanas that remained in the women’s political caucus, including Martha Cotera,

Gloria Guardiola, Maria Elena Martínez, and Diana Camacho, did so as individual members and not as representatives of LRUP. These mujeres continued the work of representing

Tejana community feminisms in the NWPC. In doing so, they drew upon their history of working within and outside of the movimiento to actualize gender liberation. Their experiences with discrimination and marginalization in TWPC and NWPC bolstered their commitment to merging anti-racism and anti-sexism and demanding that ethnic self- determination was a central conversation of the AFM.

Community Feminisms and The National Women’s Conference

Tejanas, no longer formally representing LRUP in the women’s political caucus but eager to have a seat at the table of women’s empowerment, participated in global and

50 Convention Schedule, Box 12, Subject Files, Texas Women’s Political Caucus, Martha Cotera Papers, 1964-, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries.

51 Texas Women’s Political Caucus Memorandum, Box 12, Subject Files, Texas Women’s Political Caucus, Martha Cotera Papers, 1964-, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries. 196

national women’s rights conferences in the latter 1970s. In 1975, the United Nations convened an International Women’s Year (IWY) conference in Mexico City, Mexico. The objective of IWY was to present policies and programs focused on women and development; craft a world plan of action based on such policies and programs to last until 1985; to involve women in bolstering global peace and eradicating racial discrimination; and to confront barriers to equal rights.52 The world plan of action, the central goal of the conference, was designed to provide a framework for governments and individuals to actualize gender equality in the areas of education, employment, public affairs, the family, and the media. The main conference of IWY was designated for official government representatives. However, knowing that many women would flock to Mexico City for this historical event, the United

Nations held a concurrent Tribune, or public conference. As historian Marisela R. Chávez notes, the IWY Tribune granted Chicanas the opportunity to represent the Chicana/o

Movement from a women’s perspective, to transcend national women’s politics through dialogues with women across the Third World, and to confront their own privilege in relation to women of color in the Third World.53

At the Tribune, Tejanas Lupe Aquiano and Amparo Aguilar coordinated with fellow

LRUP Chicanas from California, Michigan, and Wisconsin to present a position paper. As delegates of LRUP, Aguiano, Aquilar and others shared their experiences as Chicanas in the

Unites States. They underscored the need for human rights—for eliminating all forms of

52 World Conference of the International Women’s Year, Box 79, Folder 10, Women, 1974-1975, José Angel Gutiérrez Papers, 1954-1990, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries.

53 Marisela R. Chávez, “Pilgrimage to the Homeland: California Chicanas and International Women’s Year, Mexico City, 1975,” in Memories and Migrations: Mapping Boricua and Chicana Histories, eds. Vicki Ruiz and John Chavez (Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 2008).

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oppression and discrimination in order to meaningfully tackle sexism and prevent “one group from becoming the next oppressor.”54 Tejanas could not endorse a women’s liberation model that did not fully account for the ways racism and classism marginalized ethnic Mexican women. The delegates affirmed their commitment to broad freedom by stating that LRUP was the central “political vehicle for gaining control of our own communities, our lives, our humanities” as it “seeks to create social, political, economic, and ethnic institutions that will break the cycle of Chicano repression in the United States.”55 Connecting to Third World women and referencing their own experiences with forced assimilation, the position paper also stated that Chicanas understood “the mind of the colonizer,” and that global liberation for women needed to be grounded in “a premise of mutual respect for language and cultural variations” and “the expression of a woman’s humanity in her own language and culture.”56

Tejanas in LRUP also collaborated with mujeres from Latin American countries, including Bolivia, Cuba, Guatemala, Nicaragua, and the Dominican Republic, to draft a statement on anti-imperialism during the Tribune. This proclamation denounced “state of dependency in all forms of life of the Latin American people” and made a reference to the oppression of Chicanas/os from Aztlan.57 According to mujeres at the Tribune, the women’s problem was “an economical, social, political, and cultural problem, the result of the

54 No Author, “Presentation by Chicanas of La Raza Unida Party,” La Comunidad, August, 1975, 5.

55 “Presentation by Chicanas of La Raza Unida Party, 6.

56 Ibid.

57 Document Proclamation Circulated in the Name of the Tribune, Box 79, Folder 10, Women, 1974- 1975, José Angel Gutiérrez Papers, 1954-1990, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries.

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exploitation of imperialism and of its natural allies.”58 To combat the issue of imperialism, they proposed that women “develop a Latin American consciousness, committed with a national, social and revolutionary model of the Latin American women which is opposed to imperialism.”59 As Chávez notes, Chicanas who came to the tribune had to confront their own privilege as women of the first world who were protected from the overt military presence as well as the egregious torture for political dissent that their Latin American female peers grappled with daily. She also asserts that Chicanas, nonetheless, bonded with Third

World women as their view of women’s oppression in the United States did not align with the one espoused by the middle-class Anglo feminists who attended the gathering. That is,

Chicanas felt compelled to share their alternative perspective of the United States with Third

World women and in the process, forged a deeper connection with them.60 Inspired by the revolutionary activities of ethnic Mexican and Cuban women and rooting their quest for self- determination in such activities, nueva Tejanas had long identified with the anti-imperialistic movement in Latin America. The Houston barrio MAYO chapter, of which Guardiola and

Yolanda Garza Birdwell were leaders, declared in its position paper that the “United States practices imperialism in barrios at home and in all Third World countries” and that barrio

MAYO “opposed imperialism wherever it occurs” as all people “have a right to control their destiny instead of being slaves to imperialism.”61 When MAYO transformed into LRUP

58 Document Proclamation Circulated in the Name of the Tribune, Box 79, Folder 10, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections.

59 Ibid.

60 Chávez, “Pilgrimage to the Homeland.”

61 MAYO Positions, Box 1, Folder 1, Mexican American Youth Organization, Gregorio Salazar Papers, Houston Metropolitan Research Center, Houston Public Library.

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members remained dedicated to resisting imperialistic forces nationally and globally, as evidenced by Texas LRUP’s Political Action Program that recognized the “common struggle that unites all oppressed people throughout the world” and that called for the United States to

“no longer provide military or economic intervention in the national schemes of other countries.”62

While Tejanas presented their distinct perspective as women of color in the United

States and worked with Latin American women to denounce imperialism at the IWY

Tribune, their reach was limited. They were not granted access to the government official conference that approved and amended the IWY Plan of Action. Maria Jiménez, who had been working with Indigenous women in Yucatán, Mexico at the time of the IWY, recalled that she was invited to give talks on women’s rights in the meetings and festivities leading up to the conference. However, these events were largely attended by upper class women with political connections. Additionally, although she was sought for her expertise on women’s rights, Jiménez was barred from the main IWY conference because only the wives of heads of agencies were allowed to attend as Mexican delegates.63 Tejana exclusion from the main conference meant that their perspectives would only be heard by attendees of the Tribune.

Two years after the 1975 IWY, Tejanas seized upon opportunity to formally shape the

United States’ national plan of action on women. In November of 1977, tens of thousands of women from across the nation gathered in Houston, Texas for the National Women’s

62 Texas Raza Unida Party: A Political Action Program for the 70’s, Box 1, Folder 3, RUP Platform Committee: Typescript and Handwritten Drafts to Texas Raza Unida Party. A Political Action Program for the 70's, Raza Unida Party Records, 1969-1979, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries.

63 Maria Jiménez, interview by Maria Cotera, video recording, August 31, 2012, Chicana Por Mi Raza Digital Archive, University of Illinois—Urbana Champaign, Champaign, IL.

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Conference (NWC), financed and sponsored by Congress and President Jimmy Carter to

“talk about and act upon issues of concern to women.”64 Tejanas spent time and resources recruiting ethnic Mexican women to attend this national response the 1975 IWY.

The national meeting was painted as a contemporary step towards advancing the fights for gender equality raised at the Women’s Rights Convention (WRC) in Seneca Falls,

New York in 1848, and much like the WRC meeting decades prior, the Anglo-centric nature of the 1977 NWC did not reflect the diversity of the struggle. The conference booklet lauded

Anglo feminists Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Susan B. Anthony for forging an intellectual and organizational partnership that “was the driving force of the American women’s movement and dominated its existence from the mid-19th to the early 20th century.”65 Serving at the helm of the National Women Suffrage Association, Stanton and Anthony were also credited for being among the twelve Anglo foremothers of the U.S. women’s rights struggle.

In elevating Stanton and Anthony as the key architects of gender equality, the NWC booklet preserved the dominant narrative of the nation’s women’s movement, obscuring women of color and the heterogeneous origins of women’s rights. For instance, as gender and ethnic studies scholar Angela Davis notes, Sojourner Truth was also a central figure in the quest for women’s rights in the nineteenth century who raised the twin issues of sexism and racism as a former enslaved African American woman. Davis further states that Truth often had to remind Anglo feminists that her gender rights as a woman of color were no less legitimate than those of white middle-class women. According to historian Nancy A. Hewitt, the

64 The Spirit of Houston: The First National Women's Conference (Washington: National Commission on the Observance of International Women's Year, 1978), 9.

65 Edith P. Mayo “Historical Notes: Our Foremothers,” American Women on the Move: National Women’s Conference (Houston: Texas, 1977).

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dominant suffrage story conceals the ways African American women, like Sojourner Truth, and white working class women championed gender issues while simultaneously fighting to abolish slavery. The conference booklet upheld narrow and elitist understandings of the women’s movement by focusing on select Anglo “foremothers.” As Hewitt notes, that limited view of the struggle also excludes ethnic Mexican women’s feminist genealogy that pre-dated Anglo women’s demands for legal and political rights.66 Tejanas confronted the dominant narrative of the AFM at the 1977 NWC by representing their distinct community feminisms. They refused to conform to a mainstream Anglo feminist agenda that did not embrace their dual fight against sexism and racism, and their genealogy in the women’s rights struggle. Experiences with racism and paternalism at the conference not only solidified

Tejanas’ commitment to ethnic self-determination, but also compelled them to continue expanding notions of women’s liberation in much the same ways Sojourner Truth and ethnic

Mexican women did decades before NWC.

Lauded as the first gathering to bring together diverse group of women from various economic, racial, ethnic, religious, social, generational, and political backgrounds, the NWC was did not realize its potential for women of color grappling with the social, economic, and political vestiges of the Juan Crow and Jim Crow South. Tejanas’ encountered resistance to having their homegrown community feminist resolutions, crafted before the conference, incorporated in the formal NWC platform. Leading up to the 1977 conference, states held meetings where workshops, exhibits, films, and entertainment offered “women opportunities

66 Nancy A. Hewitt, “From Seneca Falls to Suffrage?: Reimagining a “Master” Narrative in U.S. Women’s History,” in No Permanent Waves: Recasting Histories of U.S. Feminism, ed. Nancy Hewitt (New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 2010), 15-38. 202

to learn, to share information, and to express their concerns.”67 Additionally, women at the state meeting selected delegates for NWC and crafted resolutions that tackled all forms of discrimination plaguing women. The Texas Committee to the National Commission on the

Observance of IWY organized the state meeting held at the University of Texas at Austin from June 24-26th. In May, Tejanas mailed letters to their contacts with the goal of having a

“massive Chicana representation throughout the state,” and at least 1,000 Tejanas in attendance.68 Diana Camacho, María Elena Martinez, Martha Cotera, and Amalia Rodriguez-

Mendoza, who were members of RUP and active in fights for gender equality, encouraged fellow Tejanas to assist them in recruiting ethnic Mexican women to participate in the opportunity to shape federal programming for women’s self-determination, understanding that the resolutions at the state meeting would be submitted to the U.S. Congress and the

President for policy and legislation.

At the Texas meeting, Cotera worked with Nina Wouk, founder of the Common

Woman Bookstore, and Loretta Shaw, of the National Association for the Advancement of

Colored People, to chair the morning and afternoon sessions of the “Sexism, Racism, and

Classism” workshop where a cross-section of women formulated resolutions speaking to the

“three issues that are used to oppress and divide American women (and men) and keep them from making their fullest contributions to the quality of life.”69 Approximately 400 women

67 Texas Women’s Meeting, Box 9, Folder 1, Chicana Advisory Committee, Martha Cotera Papers, 1964-, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries.

68 Chicana Advisory Committee on IWY Concerns mail out, Box 9, Folder 1, Chicana Advisory Committee, Martha Cotera Papers, 1964-, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries.

69 Texas Women’s Meeting Program, Box 9, Folder 4, State Committee Meetings, Martha Cotera Papers, 1964-, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries.

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attended this workshop centered on the experiences of ethnic Mexican women, Black women, and Anglo women, including Tejanas, Black women, lesbians, old and young women, and radicals.70 The Tejana resolutions that emerged from the “Sexism, Racism, and

Classism” workshop embodied their dual commitment to anti-sexism and anti-racism, addressing a host of issues they had tackled within and beyond MAYO and LRUP: access to higher education, community-informed health centers, women in politics, the negative machismo stereotype, bilingual/bicultural education, and justice for farmworkers. Declaring that “institutions of higher education do not reflect the ethnic make-up of the state and therefore do not make higher education a reality for minorities and low income groups,”

Tejanas called for all universities and community colleges to “adopt an open admission system for any person who wishes to continue her or his education.”71 In the sphere of health,

Tejanas stated that “existing women’s centers are not meeting the needs of minority women” and that NWC participants “commit themselves to seek and support efforts to seek support efforts to obtain funding at the local, state, and national levels for the CHICANA CRISIS

CENTER to be located in the barrio and deal with the special needs of Chicanas in the areas of rape and battered women.”72 Lastly, Tejanas affirmed their dedication to generating women of color political power, arguing that “Chicanas have had only limited access to power and establishing public policy in the State of Texas” and that the Commission on IWY

70 Texas IWY Coordinating Committee, Texas Women's Meeting - File 079, September 1977, Selections from the Marjorie Randal National Women’s Conference Collection, University of Houston Libraries, accessed October 4, 2018, https://digital.lib.uh.edu/collection/1996_007/item/1810/show/1758.

71 Resolution-Education, Box 9, Folder 2, Martha Cotera Papers, International Women’s Year, 1977, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries.

72 Resolution-Chicana Crisis Center, Box 9, Folder 2, Chicana Caucus, Martha Cotera Papers, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries.

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recommend “to the Governor of Texas that a goal be set for 1980 to significantly increase the number of Chicana appointments and that special efforts be made to seek out Chicanas for appointments.”73

Beyond the concerns of ethnic Mexican women, Tejanas drafted resolutions addressing race and class stereotypes and broad community matters. They declared that “the term ‘machismo’ has been deployed by the media and social scientists to describe the degradation of women by men; and that label has created an unfavorable image of the

Mexican male in the eyes of the American society.”74 Accordingly, Tejanas demanded that

“the term ‘machismo’ not be employed to further promote a negative stereotype of the

Mexican community.”75 Tejana community feminists’ rejection of the machismo label was not an endorsement of inter-ethnic sexism, but rather a critical response to how U.S. society pathologized their brothers. They equally took offense to how the machismo label implied that they were docile women who suffered in silence.76 Another racial issue that Tejanas addressed was bilingual/bicultural education. They contended that the “state legislation excludes many children that need bilingual education and does not guarantee bilingual programs at all levels to each student of limited English speaking ability” and resolved that

“Bicultural, Multicultural programs be established at all levels from preschool through

73 Resolution to the Racism, Sexism, and Classism Workshop, Box 9, Folder 2, Chicana Caucus, Martha Cotera Papers, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries.

74 Workshop: Racism, Sexism, and Classism, Box 9, Folder 2, Chicana Caucus, Martha Cotera Papers, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries.

75 Workshop: Racism, Sexism, and Classism, Box 9, Folder 2, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections.

76 For more on machismo, see Alfredo Mirandé and Evangelina Enríquez, La Chicana: The Mexican- American Woman (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1979).

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university and that these programs be under the jurisdiction of Parent Advisory Committees that reflect the makeup of the community by ethnicity and sex.”77 Building on their activism in the movimiento, Tejanas advocated for community-informed bilingual/bicultural programs to meet the needs of ethnic Mexican youth. Tejanas also demonstrated their commitment to gender as well as racial freedom by drafting a resolution on farmworkers. Declaring that the

“farmworkers in the United States have been denied collective bargaining rights and inclusion in the National Labor Relations Act” and that “Chicana women represent the largest percentage of women in farmwork (1.9 million) in the United States,” Tejanas demanded that the NWC “support farmworkers in their efforts to eliminate these injustices and support the Texas Farmworkers Rights March to Washington.”78 For Tejanas, it was not enough to champion gender issues within feminist spaces. Their generational experiences with entrenched racism and classism in the Juan Crow and Jim Crow South colored their expressions of women’s rights.

While Tejanas worked to have their distinct community feminisms represented in their resolutions on bilingual/bicultural education, health, farmworkers, the media, or employment at the state meeting, there were limits to getting these resolutions on the conference floor and having them incorporated in the follow-up report of the NWC’s global minority resolution, which was written by select delegates before the national meeting.79 For example, at the state meeting, Tejanas struggled to have their “Sexism, Racism, and

77 Resolution: Farmworkers, Box 9, Folder 2, Chicana Caucus, Martha Cotera Papers, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries.

78 Resolution: Farmworkers, Box 9, Folder 2, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections.

79 Cecilia P. Burgia, “The 1977 National Women’s Conference in Houston,” La Luz (November 1978), 9.

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Classism” workshop resolutions heard by general assembly. Sally Andrade attempted to present a motion for the general assembly to hear a block of Tejana resolutions. However, a woman cut in front of her in line who demanded to be heard and by the time Andrade presented her motion, the general assembly’s questions about the motion significantly extended the time spent on the matter and resulted in the chair of the assembly eventually opting to hear the Election Committee’s report instead of voting on the motion.80 Recalling the incident, Andrade stated that “those who threaten to disrupt the democratic process are condoned and catered to by IWY organizers, while those of us struggling to act non-violently and constructively are ignored.”81 For Andrade, the “refusal to continue with the vote on a motion that was on the floor and the decision to adjourn the meeting without consulting the will of the assembly [were] blatant examples of the most authoritarian of ruling methods,” and she questioned whether such unethical actions would be tolerated at NWC.82 This disregard of their unique plight confirmed Tejanas’ fears that they would be mere observers despite being the “largest ethnic group of women in [the] state.”83 Tejanas and other

Chicanas had assembled a Chicana Advisory Committee for the state meeting as well as the national conference in order to wield influence in the conference and ensure “fair and

80 Sally Andrade Letter to Cecilia Preciado-Burciaga, July 17, 1977, Box 9, Folder 1, Chicana Advisory Committee, Martha Cotera Papers, 1964-, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries.

81 Sally Andrade Letter to Cecilia Preciado-Burciaga, Box 9, Folder 1, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections.

82 Ibid.

83 Chicana Advisory Committee for IWY Conference Memorandum to the Chicana Members of the Texas IWY Coordinating Committee, February 5, 1977, Box 9, Folder 1, Chicana Advisory Committee, Martha Cotera Papers, 1964-, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries.

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equitable representation of Chicana concerns.”84 The perceived indifference to Tejanas’ community feminist resolutions strained an already precarious relationship between ethnic

Mexican women and middle-class Anglo women, reflected in their past experiences in

TWPC and NWPC.

Compounding Tejanas’ diminished hope for forging a workable relationship with mainstream Anglo feminists was the NWC organizers’ refusal to value their efforts to recruit participants and fully participate in the conference. Tejanas spent ten thousand volunteer hours preparing for and promoting NWC, neglecting community campaigns in the process.

The coordinating body of the NWC, however, failed to compensate Tejanas for their labor and ignored numerous requests.85 Tejanas incurred significant costs in getting ethnic

Mexican women to attend both the state meeting and the NWC. While the Texas state meeting was provided a healthy budget of $100,000, Tejanas had to crowdsource to gather funds for the Chicana Advisory Committee as they shouldered the cost of “all [their] printing, woman-power and supplies expenses in getting the [Chicana] Caucus together.”86 In particular, Cotera personally secured resources “across Chicana party lines, across income levels, [and across] educational levels” to bolster the efforts of the Chicana Advisory

Committee, which formed eight organizing committees for the conference.87 Tejanas also

84 Chicana Advisory Committee for IWY Conference Memorandum to the Chicana Members of the Texas IWY Coordinating Committee, Box 9, Folder 1, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections.

85 International Women’s Year Excluded Women Part 1: Trouble in Texas, Box 9, Folder 5, Background, Martha Cotera Papers, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries.

86 Chicana Advisory Committee on IWY Concerns Letter to the Chicana Members of the Texas IWY Coordinating Committee, June 2, 1977, Box 1, Folder 1, Chicana Advisory Committee, Martha Cotera Papers, 1964-, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries.

87 Chicanas Change Course of Texas IWY, Box 1, Folder 1, Chicana Advisory Committee, Martha Cotera Papers, LILAS Benson Latina American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries.

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pushed for the Texas state meeting to not charge more than $1.00 for registration fees, as they did not want fees to limit the participation of ethnic Mexican women. Tejanas also adamantly opposed fee waivers which “could be later used to intimidate or humiliate minority and poor women.”88

While Tejanas, such as Mendoza, Cotera, Camacho, Martinez, Becky Pedroza, and

Luz Gutierrez were instrumental in facilitating a robust Chicana contingency at the Texas state meeting and NWC, they walked away feeling that their perspectives and coordinating efforts were not valued by the dominant mainstream Anglo feminist organizers. Their inferior treatment before and during the conference further emboldened Tejanas to merge gender rights with ethnic self-determination. Tejanas resented how the AFM routinely obscured the multiple and intersectional oppressions of women of color. For Cotera, Anglo feminists readily displayed a chauvinistic attitude when it came to Tejanas, assuming that ethnic Mexican women’s plight was far worse than their own. Rosie Castro concurred with

Cotera and believed that Anglo feminists dominated leadership positions in the women’s rights struggle, were patronizing toward women of color, and had an understanding of women’s liberation that conflicted with Tejanas’ broad conceptions of freedom.89 Indeed,

Tejanas had to consistently confront mainstream Anglo feminists’ track record of prioritizing sexism over racism.

In the women’s movement, Tejanas’ community feminist agenda aligned more with radical and queer Anglo feminists than with mainstream middle class Anglo feminists.

88 Chicana Advisory Committee for IWY Conference Memorandum to the Chicana Members of the Texas IWY Coordinating Committee, Box 9, Folder 1, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections.

89 Rosie Castro, interview by José Angel Gutiérrez, video recording, October 26, 1997, Tejano Voices, University of Texas—Arlington, Arlington, TX.

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Radical and queer Anglo feminists had also struggled to get outreach support and lacked leadership in NWC. Moreover, some radical and queer Anglo women protested NWC because it ignored “lesbians and [stated] that lesbianism is not a woman’s issue,” and because of its paternalistic treatment of African American women and Chicanas.90 As historian Sara Evans notes, lesbians struggled for autonomy and recognition in the women’s movement, and their exclusion sparked their “development of a self-affirming lesbian culture.91 In 1970, Betty Friedan labeled lesbianism as a menace “that threatened to taint the women’s movement.”92 Seven years later, lesbians still felt marginalized by mainstream

Anglo feminists. There was “no lesbian on an organizing committee, no workshop on lesbianism, and no reaction session for lesbians” at NWC.93 Lesbians asserted that

“lesbianism is very much a feminist issue” in that feminism is designed to be “about ending the oppression of all women” and because lesbianism “rejects heterosexuality which is the basic institution of [a] male-dominated society.”94

Aligning themselves with the struggles of women of color, radical Anglo feminists denounced how racism permeated NWC’s structure, “from the board of organizers, to the subject and leadership of the workshops and reaction sessions, to the racist government policies the conference is designed to reinforce.”95 Radical Anglo feminists noted how the

90 Tell Me Why, I.W.Y.?, Box 9, Folder 5, Background, Martha Cotera Papers, 1964-, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries.

91 Evans, Personal Politics, 228.

92 Rosen, The World Split Open, 83.

93 Tell Me Why, I.W.Y.?, Box 9, Folder 5, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections.

94 Ibid.

95 Ibid.

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Texas state meeting should have had translators as the state had a large Spanish speaking population and the lack of translators “severely [hampered] Chicanas who [wanted] to participated in I.W.Y.”96 They demanded that the organizers of NWC to prioritize women of color issues and recognize that the solution to these problems could “only be accomplished by their own self-determination, and power to control [their] own lives.”97 Tejanas appreciated the support they received from radical Anglo feminists. They perceived radical women at the state meeting as “seeking allies; committed; least classist traits of any group there; flexible to the ethnic minority women’s requests; able to deal with monstrous insults hurled at them; initial unawareness of diversity among Chicanas, but quick to pick that up.”98

Conversely, Tejanas perceived mainstream Anglo women at the conference as having “back room decision making; patronizing; assuming they [were] leaders of mixed group coalitions; clumsy with ethnic minorities, not interacting naturally with Chicanas;…using newly acquired assertiveness skills against ethnic minorities;…while confident they [spoke] for and

[represented] us, they feel Chicanas never represent them.”99 Tejanas’ overall impression of mainstream Anglo feminists was that they were paternalistic and unmotivated to understand the unique plight of ethnic Mexican women.

Tejanas were not the only women of color who took the AFM to task for downplaying racial politics in the 1970s. Historian Tracye Matthews asserts that Black

96 Ibid.

97 Ibid.

98 Chicanas Change Course of Texas IWY, Box 9, Folder 1, Chicana Advisory Committee, Martha Cotera Papers, 1964-, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries.

99 Chicanas Change Course of Texas IWY, Box 9, Folder 1, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections.

211

Panther Party (BPP) women acknowledged that “Black women’s relationship to Black men was qualitatively different from gender relations between whites.” Like Tejanas, BPP women rejected separatism and opted to address African American women’s liberation within the larger struggle for community freedom. For Matthews, AFM’s “initial definition of the term feminism, and its strategies, ideologies, tactics, and membership were dominated by white middle-class women.”100 African American women charged middle-class white women with developing a feminist movement that only reflected their version of gender equality.

Kathleen Cleaver, a BPP leader, recounts:

Women in the Black Panther Party did not believe that the discussions white women were launching would derive solutions to the difficulties we faced. While white women were addressing the specific form of oppression they experienced within the dominant culture, we came to fight side by side with men for black liberation…Eliminating discrimination in itself does not remove the contortion blighting the lives of women whose color, race, national origin, or economic marginalization causes them such pain.101

While vocalizing their criticisms of mainstream Anglo feminists, African American women, like Tejanas, remained invested in women’s liberation. Cleaver acknowledged that “concern for gender equity knows no color line, and women of every community desperately need more respect.”102 For African American women, women’s liberation was just as important as racial equality.

Reflecting on Tejanas’ interventions in NWC, Gloria Guardiola recalls that Chicana

Caucus members refused to address only gender issues at the conference, even if it yielded

100 Tracye A. Matthews, “No one ever asks what a Man’s Role in the Revolution Is,” in Sisters in the Struggle: African American Women in the Civil Rights-Black Power Movement, eds. Bettye Collier-Thomas and V.P. Franklin (New York: New York University Press, 2001), 237-239.

101 Kathleen Clever, “Racism, Civil Rights, and Feminism,” in Critical Race Feminism: A Reader ed. Adrien Wing (New York: New York University Press, 2003), 95.

102 Clever, “Racism, Civil Rights, and Feminism,” 97.

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criticisms from mainstream Anglo feminists. Tejanas were dedicated to tackling the racial issues that not only affected them as women of color, but also affected the marginalized men in their communities. Guardiola remembers that Gloria Steinem described Tejanas’ dual commitment to race and gender as “cutting of your nose to spite your face.” That is, Tejanas were so invested in racial issues that they were willing to break relations with mainstream

Anglo feminists if such struggles were not addressed alongside women’s equality. Although

Guardiola had participated in NOW and was willing to work with mainstream Anglo feminists, she took “umbrage with [Steinem’s] comment” because it revealed the degree to which Steinem “did not understand that our men had also been put down for many centuries” in the South.103 Representing their distinct community feminisms at NWC, Tejanas challenged the notion that women’s equality was a singular issue. Their negative treatment at

NWC compelled Tejanas to be more vigilant about merging anti-sexism with anti-racism.

Their presence at NWC pushed mainstream Anglo feminists to grapple with the intersectionality of women of color feminisms.

Conclusion

On May 12, 1996, Maria Jiménez participated in the Feminist Family Values Forum in Austin, Texas. Hosted by the Foundation for a Compassionate Society, feminists throughout the nation, including Angela Davis and Gloria Steinem, discussed the ways patriarchy shaped family values and offered strategies for change. Jiménez began her talk by pointing out that ethnic Mexican motherhood had been represented by the duality of the pure mother, the Virgin of Guadalupe, and the vengeful mother, La Llorona. For Jiménez, these

103 Guardiola, interview.

213

patriarchal understandings of motherhood did not allow for gender liberation. But, she also communicated that ethnic Mexican women such as Josefa Ortiz de Dominguez and Sor Juana

Ines de la Cruz were revolutionaries and advocates for women’s rights. Moreover, women of the Yucatán “held several feminist congresses to adopt women’s equality as part of the new

[Mexican] Constitution of 1917.”104 It was this feminist genealogy that fueled Jiménez’s anti- sexism activism within and beyond the Chicana/o Movement. Her central question at the feminist forum was how could Raza women claim their own dignity while attempting to

“rescue and reconnect to our culture and our community.”105 As a Tejana community feminist, Jiménez asserted that women’s dignity was connected to broader liberation movements, stating “we cannot liberate people without liberating women, and we cannot liberate women until we liberate all people.”106

Tejanas, invested in anti-sexism and anti-racism, persistently championed women’s rights alongside ethnic self-determination in the women’s movement. Their work in TWPC and NWPC demonstrates their commitment to shaping the women’s movement on their own terms. They forged Chicana Caucuses, recruited ethnic Mexican women into the women’s political caucus, and collectively created resolutions reflecting their community feminisms.

Additionally, they represented their perspectives in the 1975 IWY as LRUP members and in working with Latin American women to draft an anti-imperialistic statement at the Tribune.

In doing so, they took to task mainstream Anglo feminists who did not understand or appreciate their particular struggle as women of color. For Tejanas, a national conference on

104 “Feminist Family Values Forum,” accessed October 12, 2018, http://gift-economy.com/feminist- family-values-forum/.

105 “Feminist Family Values Forum.”

106 Ibid. 214

women’s rights could not be truly representative without their perspectives. Despite not having proper representation as members of the NWC committees and having some of their perspectives omitted from policies and plans of action, they confronted narrow understandings of feminism. Their experiences with paternalism and racism in the women’s movement did not dissuade them from fighting for gender liberation, but rather made them even more dedicated to facilitating ethnic self-determination as they pursued their own dignity as ethnic Mexican women.

215

Conclusion

In the late 1970s, Gloria Guardiola became the Assistant Director of the Association for the Advancement of Mexican Americans (AMMA). In this capacity, she continued to champion both racial and gender equality. Emerging in 1973 as alternative education program, AMMA worked with Houston Independent School District to address the high

Tejana/o drop out/push out rates in the barrios of Magnolia, Denver Harbor, Northside, and

Second Ward in Houston.1 To facilitate academic success and bolster Tejana and Tejano student self-confidence, AMMA provided a day care center, bilingual and bicultural programing, career guidance, and recreation and cultural activities that fostered collective work, cultural identity, and community awareness. In her role as assistant director, Guardiola understood that poor students of color “had to drop out to work or to take care of their siblings” and that “the teachers did not cater to them or they did not care for them.”2 That is,

“there was not [a] love of learning” in the classroom, and students felt as though “they would not get anywhere anyway so why bother going to school.”3 For Guardiola, AMMA was the site where ethnic Mexican youth could forge a sense of belonging through Chicana/o Studies and relevant programming. Alongside her continued dedication to this educational reform,

Guardiola remained committed to addressing women’s issues. As an AMMA representative, she gave talks to students about controlling stereotypes and gender oppression within the

Tejana/o community. Guardiola also remained involved in the Houston tri-ethnic Inner City

1 Push out describes the process in which students are not provided the proper resources and thus, are encouraged to leave school before graduation.

2 Gloria Guardiola, interview by author, audio recording, February 6, 2014, Sugar Land, TX.

3 Guardiola, interview. 216

National Organization for Women Houston chapter, and raised the issues she faced as a single mother.

Like Guardiola, Tejana movimiento activists remained committed to their distinct community feminisms. At the 1996 Feminist Family Values Forum, Maria Jiménez pointed out that ethnic Mexican women had a legacy of fighting for women’s equality and dignity, stating that the “American feminist movement is not monolithic, but composed of women from diverse backgrounds.”4 Jiménez asserted that the

women’s fight for equality and respect [had] been profoundly based on the relationship of the family or la familia. La familia is understood, not only as a blood relationship, but as the extended community carved from the cultural concepts of the compadres and comadres, or co-parents. In that sense, family relationships are valued as essential to connectedness to community, and our individual well-being to the well-being of our community.5

For Jiménez, this connection to the broader community defined Tejana feminist sensibilities. She further stated that “women are committed to building communities that will sustain a quality of life and maintain the dignity of all peoples within that community,” pointing out that the “greatest challenge to the needs of the family is shaped by trends affecting the everyday lives of women resulting from globalization, economic restructuring, and economic integration.”6 Jiménez’s reflections on gender and racial dignity powerfully encapsulates the activism that she and other Tejanas nourished in the 1960s and 1970s. She maintained that dignity for women of color was inextricably linked to dignity for the broader community who struggled against global economic forces.

4 “Feminist Family Values Forum,” accessed October 12, 2018, http://gift-economy.com/feminist- family-values-forum/.

5 “Feminist Family Values Forum.”

6 Ibid. 217

Against the backdrop of the Chicana/o Movement, the Black Power Movement, and the Anglo Feminist Movement, Tejanas claimed dignity as community feminists. They understood the impulse of the confrontational stances that their Tejano brothers gleaned from the Black Power Movement. Tejanos were particularly targeted in the decades of state- sponsored anti-Mexican violence. Accordingly, Tejanos in the Mexican American Youth

Organization (MAYO) deployed a hypermasculine posture and embraced a narrow conception of la familia that sought to relegate Tejanas to the margins of the Chicana/o

Movement in their quest for freedom. While Tejanas were sympathetic to the Tejano plight, given the vitriol and dehumanization of ethnic Mexicans in the Juan Crow and Jim Crow

South that they witnessed, they refused to accept prescribed gender roles. They responded to confrontational dignity in the struggle by putting forth a notion of la familia that encompassed the liberation of all members of the community. Tejanas in MAYO not only advocated for ethnic self-determination, but also claimed gender dignity through homegrown community feminisms. Tejanas railed against the violence committed upon Tejano bodies while concurrently carving spaces for their own gender liberation in the South. They not only balanced a commitment to feminism and nationalism in the Chicana/o Movement, but also bolstered their fight for racial liberation when encountering racism and paternalism in the mainstream Anglo Feminism Movement.

When placed in a relational context, the seeds of Tejanas’ distinct community feminisms become apparent. This study underscores the linkages among the Chicana/o

Movement, Black Power Movement, and Anglo Feminist Movement to provide the larger context of racial and gender identities and the pursuit of liberation in the protest era of the

1960s and 1970s. Race and gender power did not occur in separate vacuums. The Chicana/o

218

Movement was not the only impetus for Tejana feminist expressions. The experiences, conversations, and inspiration that occurred between and among activists locally, regionally, and nationally fueled Tejanas’ dual anti-racism and anti-sexism struggle. As Black Power and Brown Power converged, there were moments of cross-racial unity as well as shared ideology and praxis. There were also moments of divergence in the nexus of liberation politics, particularly as Tejanas sought to make inroads in the mainstream Anglo Feminist

Movement.

The solidification of a Tejana feminist thought—or multiple, overlapping strains of grassroots feminism—resulted directly from their work within and outside of the Chicana/o

Movement. While pursuing community-controlled spaces, educational reform, and political capital as members of MAYO and La Raza Unida Party (LRUP), nueva Tejanas forged homegrown community feminisms grounded in the legacy of Raza women’s activism. They did not have to look outside of their culture to find examples of women championing racial equality and women’s rights. Tejanas, inspired by their feminist foremothers, located and bolstered their distinct feminisms through counterpublics. Through women’s organizations and conferences, Tejanas defined the contours of their gender dignity. In these autonomous zones, Tejanas railed against negative stereotypes, documented their own struggles as women of color, cultivated an intergenerational and multidirectional sisterhood, and developed strategies for bringing women into the fray of electoral politics.

Tejanas’ work in autonomous zones remained connected to their activism in the movimiento, as they brought Tejana feminist thought to broader community spaces. In 1976,

Tejana community feminists, as representatives of the Chicana Learning and Research Center and the Mexican American Business and Professional Women’s Association of Austin,

219

collaborated with the Center of Mexican American Studies at the University of Texas to host

La Mujer en La Comunidad: Ayer, Hoy y Siempre (The Woman in the Community:

Yesterday, Today, and Always). The objective of the conference was to bring Tejanas and

Tejanos together for the purpose of generating discussions about the “economic, racist, and sexist discrimination that Tejanas have to face,” and shed light on the “creative energy that characterizes [Tejanas] and has helped [Tejanas] persist in context of their community.”7 In workshops on labor, education, social services, politics, and misrepresentations in the media,

Tejanas and Tejanos developed resolutions that addressed ethnic Mexican women’s racial, economic, and gender barriers. At this conference, Tejanos declared that they would stand behind Tejanas who were criticized by their male counterparts. They also affirmed their commitment to Tejana leadership training and recognizing the vital role that Tejanas played in Chicana/o Movement. In a resolution, Tejanas stated:

we struggle besides our men against the oppressing system. . . .we demand a better understanding by our husbands and mates of our role in the movimiento. Whereas we as mothers, sisters, wives are in a position to educate our children and everyone around us; therefore be it resolved that we as Mujeres work towards the unity of our people so that no oppressive factor can divide us.8

As community feminists, Tejanas refused to endure sexism in the struggle, but also refused to abandon the battle for collective liberation. At La Mujer en La Comunidad,

Tejanas raised their particular issues as women of color while embracing ethnic self- determination. The conference reveals the degree to which Tejana community feminisms

7 La Mujer en La Comunidad: Ayer, Hoy y Siempre Chicana: Conference, Box 13, Folder 22, Martha Cotera Papers, La Chicana: A Symposium, 1976, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries.

8 La Mujer en La Comunidad: Ayer, Hoy y Siempre Chicana: Conference, Box 13, Folder 22, LILAS Benson Latin American Studies and Collections, University of Texas Libraries.

220

shaped the Chicana/o Movement and forced Tejanos to come to terms with the ways they stifled Tejana liberation.

As Gloria Guardiola’s and Maria Jiménez’s activism in the years following the heyday of the Chicana/o Movement indicate, Tejanas were dedicated to merging anti-racism and anti-sexism to resist oppressive forces. Coming of age witnessing anti-Mexican rhetoric and institutional practices, Tejanas exhibited an intersectional feminism that remains relevant today for multiple women of color in the United States and throughout Latin America. As

Jiménez notes, “by raising their voices before the political systems in power, these groups of women both in Latin America and the United States, challenge regimes and systems by taking the private domain—the family—and raising it to the level of public discourse.”9 In the 1960s and 1970s, Tejana community feminists showed that feminist struggles could not be relegated to gender concerns alone. As advocates for la familia as well as gender liberation, the story of Tejana activism in the borderlands challenges the notion that feminists in the women’s movement were anti-family. When we refocus the lens of Chicana/o and women’s histories to privilege underrepresented voices, we can see how merging race and gender liberation expanded the frames of social movements in the protest era.

9 “Feminist Family Values Forum.” 221

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