Читать книгу Dolores Huerta Stands Strong - Marlene Targ Brill - Страница 7

Author’s Note

GROWING UP in the 1960s was often confusing. Television and newspaper reports switched from good to bad, sometimes within hours—sort of like today. But I was still too young to make sense of a world beyond my immediate community, especially one that seemed so topsy-turvy.

On the surface, the decade shouted, “Fun!” Teens celebrated peace, love, and rock and roll. Often when those peace-and-love people danced in the streets, adults registered shock or disapproval. But the economy was strong, and people had money to spend. The time seemed right for experimenting.

When the decade began, most kids looked buttoned down and acted within the assumed rules of the day. Girls dressed in bobby sox and skirts and wore their hair in ponytails or pixie cuts. Boys sported pants and loafers and favored crewcuts or slicked-back hairstyles. By the late 1960s, many girls had switched to mod tunics, miniskirts, and tie-dyed or peasant tops. Conservative clothing in solids and plaids evolved into multicolored and wildly tailored garments that showed considerably more skin. Almost everyone wore jeans and sneakers, something out of the question years earlier. Both boys and girls grew their hair long, and males wore long, sculpted sideburns, too.

A war was raging in Vietnam. But that was far away. At home, music and the arts championed the idea that we should all try to get along. Then war would end. Life would become less angry and complicated. Everything would be groovy, a popular term at the time.

In 1960, Americans elected their youngest president to date. At age forty-four, John Kennedy was smart and handsome, full of new ideas. He had the personality to convince citizens to put his ideas into action. At his 1961 inauguration, he challenged the nation to “ask not what your country will do for you—ask what you can do for your country.” That simple statement dared me to think about my future and what it might bring.

One of President Kennedy’s most popular achievements was the launch of a space program. He hoped to put a man on the moon. At first, I thought it was crazy talk. Still, it was a positive sign in a world of upheaval. That scientific triumph, which eventually took place in 1969, raised hopes of great possibilities for the future—maybe my future. I could dream.

Besides good vibes, the decade brought radical change to nearly every segment of the population. Young people marched for civil rights for women, Native Americans, people with disabilities, and African Americans. I felt forced to think about life in a different way. Why were certain people treated as harshly as they were? Who decided that only men could obtain credit cards and bank loans? What law said that women needed to marry and raise families to be fulfilled? Why were people with disabilities locked in institutions and Native Americans forced onto barren reservations? Moreover, why were African Americans and other minorities treated as second-class citizens?

I lived in a northern Midwestern state. I had trouble understanding why southern towns forced black people to attend separate schools, drink from separate water fountains, and enter theaters by separate entrances from whites. Newscasts showed police beating and letting loose attack dogs on these citizens for nothing more than their marching to attain equal rights. I knew this wasn’t fair.

I had no idea at the time that other groups were experiencing much the same treatment, just because they were Latinos, immigrants, or other minorities. I wondered what I could do to change these injustices. I guess the oppressed families experiencing those injustices wondered, too. Many joined sit-ins, boycotts, and marches to protest unfair treatment; to have their voices heard; and to enact change at all levels of society. Now that I look back, these wonderings led to my becoming an author. I wanted to give voice to the voiceless and unrecognized.

During the 1960s another group, farmworkers, protested against unfair treatment. I never really considered how my food got to the dinner table. I knew that fruits and vegetables were planted, picked, packaged, then sent to markets in big cities, like the one in which I lived. But I never thought about the lives of the farmworkers who made all this happen. I had no idea that the workers who picked my food received extremely low wages. I had no idea that the farm owners abused these workers with terrible living conditions and long workdays. I had no idea that entire families, including children who should have been in school, picked my fruits and vegetables in order to earn enough to buy their own food—the same food that they were picking.

I knew little about the structure of this food chain—until I saw the signs. People were marching everywhere—in front of stores, in nearby streets. Many held signs describing those unfair work conditions. Marchers urged shoppers to stop buying table grapes. On different occasions, they pleaded with shoppers to avoid buying lettuce. Just out of college and full of a desire to right society’s wrongs, I wanted to support the workers who were producing my food. But there were so many products I was told not to purchase. Which ones should or shouldn’t I buy to help the workers? I was confused.

One voice rose above the noise to clarify the issues. That voice belonged to Dolores Huerta, and she appeared on media often to talk about the grape strike. I saw her on news shows. I heard her in radio interviews. This petite, dark-haired Chicana carried the torch for farmworkers and anyone else treated unjustly.

What impressed me about her rapid-fire explanations was her hopeful attitude. No matter how badly the fieldworkers were treated, how harsh their lives were, she always saw possibilities rather than problems. Failure was not an option. Through her organizing skills and her ability to clearly explain what took place in the fields, she gave voice to the voiceless. She taught average people like me to speak up, to band together, to join the fight to make a difference.

I wanted to know more about this strong-willed woman. As I read about her, I wondered why she gave up so much of her life to help people she didn’t know. I wanted to know how she came to the causes she championed. Over the years, Dolores also campaigned on behalf of women and other minorities. What gave her the courage to stand strong and demand justice from rich growers, large corporations, politicians, and police?