“It was during summer a couple years back that my family and I went to Diego Rivera’ childhood home, now turned into a museum, and stared at his paintings, along with Frida Kahlo’. These paintings of indigenous Mexicans were the most surreal thing I had ever seen. Staring back at me were bodies hunched over: overworked, tired, but sturdy. These golden brown faces looked familiar, and they were reminiscent of the bodies hunched over picking up berries in San Quintin or the Central Valley, they were overworked like my grandpa’ hands after years of manual labor. Some people use holy scriptures to find meaning to their life, but for me, these paintings were the closest I have gotten to self-revelation.
That day in Diego Rivera’ museum something in me ignited. It was as if those paintings spoke to my inner brownness and told it to take action. I thought about how I had taken two semesters of Art Appreciation at my local community college. We had spent these months talking nonstop about the Renaissance, Baroque Art, and Romanticism. And while these are great movements that left an impression on humankind, we never touched base on a single art movement started by people of color. Like this dichotomy, my academic and personal life had always followed the same struggle. In class, my writing was constantly challenged by my instructors because they claimed it was too radical for mainstream audiences. I would be forced to read history books that did not accept that America’ success was the product of people of color’ sacrifice.
After I came back from that museum trip, something in me had changed. I could no longer conform and be passive about the environment I lived in. I began listening to Black and Brown spoken word poets, reading the history of US imperialism in Latin America, appreciating Frida Kahlo’ artwork, and learning as much as I could about my own indigenous ancestry. Slowly, I began to see that although I had to fight to have a voice, there were many Brown girls across the country fighting the same uphill battle I was. These fellow Brown girls continue to give me the strength to continue fighting for a just cause.
For me, obtaining a degree is not merely about a greater earning potential. My degree is for the young migrants working in the fields, that speak, look and feel much like I do. I acknowledge that I am taking their place at this university, and that I will do everything I can to not let this opportunity be in vain. My degree is for my mother and grandmothers, whose strong arms and broken English carried me across the border where they hoped I could grow freely and find success. My degree is to give back to a large, humble community that has always welcomed me with open arms. My goal, through my profession, is to make them visible. My career will be based on the principle of protecting my community, and fostering an environment where it becomes a norm for Latino youth to achieve academic excellence.
I know now that I am the child of generations that have endured poverty, hunger, and sacrifice, but more importantly, I am a child of generations who have adapted in order to survive, who have enjoyed life despite hardships. It is in the hands of my education, along with this generation of Latinos, to break this cycle. Despite what any President says, what any policy states, no human being is illegal, and we are the people whose ancestors have been here long before the Mayflower, apple pie, or anything else considered “”traditionally American.”” I am a strong, valuable being, not despite my browness, but because of it. My pride in being a woman of color is not merely a stubborn defiance. My resistance is through my existence and my awareness of my history.”