My mother, Manuela Huerta de Matute, was born of poor Mexican immigrant parents in 1913. Her father, Albino Huerta, had been recruited from Mezquital del Oro, a very small town in Zacatecas, Mexico, to help build the railroads as part of the economic expansion of the American Southwest. He […]
In school, I had a lot of classmates who were Latin@ or black. I knew we lived in a diverse society. After school, my neighborhood friends and I would exchange food our parents cooked us-- my sister and I traded steamed rice for warm tortillas. I didn’t understand what was so tasty about plain white rice but I guess my friends thought similarly about the tortillas I coveted.
Giving up is not an option. Only when all people are recognized and respected and treated with dignity will the fight end. Only when we decide that we belong to the same tribe – the human race!