I grew up hearing the name César Chávez spoken with respect.
My uncle worked alongside him and my mother attended his rallies. As a child, I wanted to go too, but she worried about me getting lost or chrushed in the crowds. That was the kind of presence he had when people gathered and when they felt part of something larger than themselves. That history is real, and it matters to me.
But today, like many others, I find myself reflecting more carefully on what it means to publicly honor someone. Not to erase the past, but to understand it more fully. We should continue to teach about the farmworkers’ movement—La Causa—and the role Chávez played in it. That legacy is important. But a public statue or a street name is not simply about remembering, it's about honoring. It is a statement about who we choose to elevate in our shared spaces.
And when new conversations ask us to look more closely, especially around questions of dignity, leadership, and accountability, I believe we have a responsibility to listen.
For me, this is not about turning away from Chávez. It is about turning toward a fuller truth. That truth includes Dolores Huerta, who was not just present in the movement, but foundational to it. Her leadership, her voice, and her organizing shaped what the movement became, yet she has not been honored in the same way.
It also includes Larry Itliong, whose role in the Delano grape strike helped ignite the movement, and Fred Ross Sr., whose work in community organizing laid its groundwork. These were leaders who worked together, across communities, to build something powerful and lasting.
If we are serious about honoring La Causa, then we should honor it in its fullness. That is why I support renaming Cesar Chávez Boulevard in honor of Dolores Huerta. Doing so would not erase history—it would expand it. It would recognize that this movement was never the work of one person alone, and that women’s leadership deserves to be seen and named.
As for the statue in Davis Park, I know there are those who feel strongly that it should remain. I understand that. But I also believe we must be honest about 
We are being asked, as a community, to think more deeply not just about what we remember, but about what and who we choose to honor. For me, that means holding onto the history I was raised with, while also making room for a more complete and honest telling of it.
To me, that is not about a loss, it’s about growth.
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Recently, I finally had time to go through some of my mother’s personal things
I came across stacks and stacks of newspapers and magazines—Look, Life, The El Paso Times, and others—each one carrying giant headlines about important moments in history. Read More…
I didn’t know what Rhode Island was
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A lifeline called Journalism
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The Market that Meant we had arrived
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On tortillas, memory, and how culture survives
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La Broa’ began, as many of the most meaningful projects do, with a question.
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