By Alejandra Alarcon

I am a tutor at the Boys & Girls Club in Coachella, and I’ve noticed that the girls that attend middle school are louder and more booming than the younger kids from elementary. They like the attention from the boys their age. I was helping a twelve year old girl that I was very familiar with, finish her math homework, I noticed she did most of the math in her head quicker than her peers sitting next to her. When a boy comes into the education room and sat with all the kids his age, where we were sitting, the girl started to claim that she never did her homework and has an F in all her classes.

          Young girls are at the age to understand that the things on magazines and television have so much influence on them, but you won’t admit it… yet. The people on T.V. are so cool and famous aren’t they? But the people on T.V. send all the wrong messages. Female reality stars like Snooki from the Jersey Shore, Priscilla from The Real World: San Diego or the Kardashian sisters are bone heads, they are the worst role models for young girls. I mean, are they really that clueless? I was that sixth grade girl that thought being an airhead was cute, that was a way other girls flirted with BOYS.  I liked boys. I wanted them to like me back. You have to understand that the boys most girls your age like, don’t care about girls the way they want them to care about them. It took me all middle school and most of my freshman year to realize that acting dumb and trying to make people laugh by embarrassing myself was really ridiculous.

           Having that kind of attention, made me lose respect from kids in my class. No one took me seriously. Ever. My turning point, was my freshmen year, when my math teacher paired me up with the guy I had the biggest crush on, he told the teacher he didn’t want to work with me because I would make him fail. I didn’t get mad or crushed, instead of I redeemed myself by scooting my desk away and doing my work alone to prove everyone wrong. It was too late though, I had given myself that bad reputation for my freshmen year. When I got A’s on tests everyone would say “Whoa! If she got an A, then the tests must have been easy.” What I’m trying to tell you is: never dumb yourself down. Always try your best. Be an intellectual. Having your own personality and style and being confident about it, is being beautiful. Brains are beautiful. Be your witty, intelligent and grounded, because in the long run, all your hard work and effort will pay off and you will be deserving of endless opportunities.

By Jesus A. Vargas, Coachella Unincorporated

Being a new student at a new school is daunting at first but I’ve been doing my best to integrate myself both academically and socially and I haven’t been doing a bad job of it to tell you the truth. I’ll get to some particulars in some later entries but I think I should focus this first blog entry on my actually moving from Coachella to UC Irvine.

The whole summer before the fall quarter began I had this anxious feeling of just wanting school to start already. Even though there were some fun times this past summer, I often felt as if I was just stagnating at home. As the date approached; however, the once pure anticipation became diluted with something else. I had lived in the Coachella Valley for the entirety of my life. All my friends are there and most of my family and I was about to displace myself from all of them. My confidence shattered into a million little misgivings about myself. I would think: “I can’t even cook myself a decent meal,” (Thanks, Mom) or “What if I can’t handle a real college course load?” (Sorry, COD). I even began doubting my ability to make new friends, which retrospectively was kind of dumb—I’m pretty awesome. When the day of my departure finally came and I was standing outside, my car packed full of belongings and my family teary-eyed, gathered around me to say goodbye, it was definitely not as I had envisioned it would be just a few months before. It was harder than that and sadder. As I hugged everyone goodbye for the last time, got into the car and pulled out onto the road, I had to stop myself from looking back. I was afraid, really, so I kept my head forward, put on some music and just drove.

I already had visited the school and where I would be living so it wasn’t all brand new but seeing the place full of new and returning students all moving their belongings definitely put a smile on my face. Move-in day was pretty chaotic but in a good way—parents hurriedly ferrying mini-fridges from the parking lots to the houses, people scrambling to rent out the few carts available for moving heavy items, kids carrying full loads of stuff in their arms not noticing they dropped some shirts on their way to their room, that sort of thing. The place where I live is called Arroyo Vista and it’s an on-campus theme house community mostly for sophomores and juniors. The houses have either 24 or 36 residents, all the rooms are doubles and there is a shared kitchen and living area on the first floor. They are organized by theme so one house is the Humanities House for humanities majors and another is the International House for international students and so on. My house is three stories (I’m on the third floor) but there are some houses that only have two stories. I found out that my room assignment had been changed when I arrived I would be living in the Cesar Chavez House and while initially kind of discouraged that changed when I met everyone and found that they were all really cool people. Oh and another thing moving in by yourself suuuuuucks. That first day was exhausting, once I had moved all my things and done a little organizing I fell asleep almost instantly. Oh and my roommate’s name is Chris and he’s a cool, typical guy in his early twenties so we should get along fine. Classes didn’t start for another week after move-in day and the school had prepared lots of activities for students that week. There was a world record dodge ball game (over 5,000 people), a free concert on campus, which was pretty intense If you really want to know, a late night thing at the recreation center/gym to acquaint people with the facility, and various little barbecues and social things just to get people to meet one another. I became friends with some really awesome Indian people and went to a UCI Indian club-sponsored event in Hollywood for which they had a shuttle and everything. I went to various club meetings, played lots of indoor soccer, hung out with the house mates and the aforementioned new friends and just kept really busy until classes actually started. My classes seem pretty manageable; being an English major, (people get really surprised when they hear that, see title) classes are all just a lot of reading which Spark notes can help me out a lot on, although my literature theory class lectures are just a little bit crazy. The professor is pretty amiable but she gets a bit carried away in her lectures. Let’s just say I need to do a lot of googling when going over my notes for that class. I’ve also gotten a job at the art gallery on campus. It pretty much just entails me making sure people don’t touch any art so that’s going to be fine also. That covers the first two weeks pretty well (or not that well at all if you wanted to hear about non PG-13 escapades but I’ll keep those to myself). The weekend is here and I need to do some reading to catch up for last week but the next update on the differences between the Irvine area and the Coachella Valley (like Irvine having weather suitable for human habitation) will be coming next week.

Lifelong Coachella resident Jesus Vargas blogs about his college adventures as a recent transfer to UC Irvine.

By Maricruz Cabrera, Coachella Unincorporated

Our eyes, droopy from last night’s lack of sleep, our minds, exhausted, burnt out, unable to think of anything but our distant friend slumber, our bodies aching and trying not to shut down as we ask each other “What time did you go to sleep?” The replies and gestures vary. One shifts her hands from desk to temples and they slowly drag along the shape of the face as she confesses to have slept an approximate of 3 hours. Another, fingers dig into hair and slightly pulls, as if to release stress by pulling on the roots. I, being unaware of my physical reaction to the question, know that I will be ill-tempered due to lack of sleep.

Daily life has become a tedious and dreaded routine. We wake up, ready or not, as if playing a stressful and painful game of hide and seek. As if you are being hunted by many different things: abundant amounts of homework, home responsibilities, scholarship and college applications, and the uncertainty of our future. The truth is, this is by far, the most stressful academic year of our life. It is very save to say “our”, because I know we share the same feelings with most seniors.

I remember hearing the typical myths of senior year. The joyous year to make long lasting memories, fun and flimsy, a picture painted by the 1970s film “Grease”. They failed to mention the reality that seniors encounter, such as application deadlines that determine a great deal of your future. Or the amount of responsibility it takes in order to graduate from high school and fulfill the expectations that people in your life might have for you.

Although, there are many implications on senior year, it is what you make of it. There might be sleepless nights, and fatigued days but it is all leading up to another phase of life. All its hardships are helping you harden your shell in order to be more prepared for the harder bouts of life.

By Noely Resendiz, Coachella Unincorporated

Coachella Valley High School is doing something to inform high school and middle school students about the serious topic of bullying. CVHS English and drama teacher Shaun Carlin has stepped away from classic productions such as Grease and Annie to produce more thought-provoking plays.

This year, Carlin and his cast and crew of high school students plan to start the year with a production of Thank You for Flushing My Head in the Toilet, a play about bullying in school and the psychological and emotional effects that it has on bullies and their victims.

The public is invited to see the performance Thursday, September 29, at 3 p.m. and Friday, September 30, at 5 p.m. at Coachella Valley High School, 83-800 Airport Blvd. There is no charge to attend.

“It informs students about bullying and to not be afraid of who you are,” said cast and crew member Alyssa Bojorquez.  “Just be yourself and don’t change because others want you to do too.”

Last year’s productions included How to Make an American Teenage Quilt and Our Daily Lives. Both productions were about high school students facing struggles outside of school such as racism, poverty, sexually transmitted infections, drugs, and suicide.

Thank You for Flushing My Head in the Toilet is meant to teach students about the drastic results from bullying in a way that shows them instead of just stating facts.  Most importantly, the information doesn’t come from teachers, counselors, or other school officials, but from fellow classmates.

Most high school students are victims of bullying; in fact, dosomething.org reports that more than 50% of students have been through some form of bullying. Unfortunately, most victims of bullying don’t realize that they aren’t the only ones exposed to bullying. As much as schools try to inform students that being bullying is not acceptable and that they should inform an adult, students rarely inform school officials.

During my middle school years, I had a particularly hostile group of friends. They had a leader and if anyone tried to outshine her, the rest of group would make sure that person learned they crossed a line. I didn’t think much about it because they were my friends and they were considered “cool,” but what I didn’t realize is that these girls didn’t hold the same feelings for me. Eventually the group of girls felt that my outspokenness threatened the leader and that letting her be my friend was going to ruin her reputation. To their disbelief the leader, who had initially introduced me to the rest of the group, didn’t agree. This angered the girls and before I knew it I was being told to stay away from her and threatened with being beat up if I didn’t. I didn’t tell anyone.

Bullying is an unfortunate aspect of school life. But students are not alone, something proven by the cast and crew at CVHS, who are taking the intuitive to make a difference with this play.

Volunteers Still Needed for Annual Event, Saturday, September 24, at Coachella Valley High School

Thermal - Doctors from all over California will fly their private plans into the Jacqueline Cochran Regional Airport bringing their medical, dental, vision equipment, their expertise and their caring hearts to provide free services to our families with no medical insurance.

They first visited the area 16 years ago and saw the need for medical service to families in the Coachella Valley Unified School District.  They have been flying into the Thermal Airport and providing their service ever since.  The event has grown with local doctors, dentists and resource agencies joining this rewarding event.   

This fall the Flying Doctors, “Los Medicos Voladores” along with other local professionals will be at Coachella Valley High School in Thermal on Saturday, September 24, 2011, from 8 a.m. to 3 p.m.

Last year the volunteer doctors treated over 1,500 patients. Local volunteers are still being sought for the event.

Families can receive health services, including: medical exams, dental treatments, glasses, mammograms, diabetic screening, blood pressure check, chiropractic services, educational movies, as well as visit a resource fair.  Free child care will be provided. 

As stated in the Coachella Valley healthcare access report in December 2010, the Coachella Valley has a healthcare crisis due to the magnitude of insufficient healthcare access. The degree of poverty and lack of healthcare services make communities in the Coachella Valley amongst the most underserved in the state of California.

Event organizers say the goal of this event is to help the community live a healthier lifestyle and find a medical and dental home.

The lead event sponsor is Regional Access Project Foundation with assistance from: The Royal Plaza Inn, Coachella Valley Unified School District, Coachella Valley High School, C.V. Medical Volunteers, Signature Flight Support at Jacqueline Cochrane Regional Airport, Ciro’s Restaurant, La Fiesta Rental, Coachella Valley Rotary Club, John F. Kennedy Hospital, La Poderosa, KESQ, KUNA Telemundo, Western Growers, Borrego Community Health Foundation, Desert Women for Equality Program, CSEA, CVTA, and Volunteers in Medicine.

For more information, or to volunteer, contact :
Lucy Moreno, at (760)485 9045, or Jim Greene, at (760)578-1836.

Coachella Unincorporated will be covering this event. Look out for our stories next week.

UFW supporters marched across California last month to pressure Gov. Brown to pass the Fair Treatment for Farm Workers Now Act (SB 126).

Entry 6

On August 23, the United Farm Workers embarked on a 200-mile, 13-day march that wound through the streets of California to pressure Governor Jerry Brown to pass the Fair Treatment for Farm Workers Now Act, or SB 126, a bill that would make it easier for farm workers to unionize.

On September 8, approximately 90 farm workers and supporters gathered at the state Capitol to watch SB 126 pass the Assembly with a vote of 46 to 24. The bill has the support of the senate and the Governor, a huge difference from June when a similar bill, SB 104, was vetoed.

Think for a bit about the mentality of the person that agreed to dedicate 13 days of their lives and walk 200 miles through California for a bill that would improve the lives of so many people.

These men and women are unknown heroes who accepted the task in the most humble manner. There were about 15 permanent marchers: some were workers, three were student volunteers (two from Minnesota), three were over 80 years of age, two were UFW staff, and, of course, there was the UFW President.

It was a shapeless movement at first; no one knew who we were. We had a goal even though we didn’t know if the goal would be met. Would the governor listen to us? We didn’t know. Would he pass a bill in our favor? We didn’t know. Would we even be able to make it? We didn’t know.

Little by little, step by step, and day by day, however, the movement began to take shape. After three days the body adjusted to the pain, the blisters, the soreness and the heat.

There were days where all we saw were corn fields, huge stalks of bright green huddled together and dancing with the wind. There were vast fields of watermelons and cantaloupe, red strawberries and workers picking in their rhythmic fashion looking up for a bit to watch us pass by and wave.

There wasn’t much chanting in those fields, just walking and watching brown dirt and green crops, smelling pesticides, and feeling the body sweat and water go down a very thirsty throat.

Every now and then, to pass the time, we sang mariachi songs that everyone knew. In those hours we weren’t pressuring the governor to sign any law as much as we were building a sense of community among ourselves, a sense of friendship that went beyond legislation and power.

It wasn’t long, however, until people began to notice. And after we started getting more press, more people started stopping us in the middle of the street to donate water, money, food, anything. They also didn’t know if what we were doing was going to pay off, but they admired the dedication.

We were nobodies walking through a stretch of blacktop like old vagabonds in Kerouac’s crazy fashion, in Dylan’s crazy dream. Our size oscillated like the universe as we traveled from Madera to Le Grand, Le Grand to Mercedes, Mercedes to Livingston, Livingston to Turlock, Turlock to Modesto, Modesto to Manteca, Manteca to Stockton, Stockton to Lodi, Lodi to Galt, Galt to Walnut Grove, Walnut Grove to Franklin, Franklin to Sacramento.

We marched right through, not around, the cities. We made it a point to go through the cities and neighborhoods.  The more farm workers living in the communities, the better.  Slow down, chant louder, flyer more, talk to more people, knock on doors, invite them to the program.

And every day the community came together to welcome us, feed us, and open their homes up to us. I had the responsibility of making sure everyone was fed first, then I would eat; that everyone had housing first, then I would sleep. And if that meant that I had to sleep on the floor, on the floor I slept.

As the march progressed I came to the conclusion that whoever says that humans are, by nature, greedy, self-centered and violent, is wrong. Humans by nature want to care; we want to feel as if we belong to something and will do these random acts of kindness in order to feel as if we put in a little stone that built the wall. Humans have a good heart and a good soul and an amazing ability to live and love.

The marchers, too, amazed me. Near the end of the day they were tired. But after some food and some music they laughed, they smiled, they danced, they danced! After marching over 15 miles a day with their feet blistered and torn they danced and laughed as if nothing had happened. What a will to resist depression, what a way to cope with pain.

After the march was over, after everything was cleared out of Sacramento, I drove home and lay in my bed; tired, with a sense of emptiness, I reflected on the experience. The task at hand has been accomplished, but we are far from done. As tiresome, as long, as difficult as this march may have been — it’s only the beginning. This is the first stage in a perpetual battle for the rights of farm workers; the next chapter awaits and I’m ready to move.

UFW supporters marched across California last month to pressure Gov. Brown to pass the Fair Treatment for Farm Workers Now Act (SB 126).

Entry 6

On August 23, the United Farm Workers embarked on a 200-mile, 13-day march that wound through the streets of California to pressure Governor Jerry Brown to pass the Fair Treatment for Farm Workers Now Act, or SB 126, a bill that would make it easier for farm workers to unionize.

On September 8, approximately 90 farm workers and supporters gathered at the state Capitol to watch SB 126 pass the Assembly with a vote of 46 to 24. The bill has the support of the senate and the Governor, a huge difference from June when a similar bill, SB%2

The Diary of Joaquín Magón-Entry 5

The State of California recently announced its decision to investigate the causes behind the recent deaths of farm workers this year. The latest of these deaths came from Blythe. A big news story? Not really.

Throughout the world news such as this is looked over by newspapers and media corporations like businessmen passing by homeless men who hold out their hands and beg for change.

The truth is the media lost focus of what is important, of who it serves, of what its role in a democratic society is. The truth is the media lost its sense of truth and reality.

As Sub-Commandante Marcos of the Zapatista Army of National Liberation or Ejercito Zapatista de Liberacion Nacional (EZLN) said in an interview:

“… The world of contemporary news is a world that exists for the VIPs. The everyday lives of the major movie stars and big politicians. If they get married, if they divorce, if they eat, if they take their clothes off.

But common people only appear for a moment when they kill someone or when they die. For the communication giants and the neoliberal powers, the others, the excluded, only exist when they are dead, or when they are in jail or in court.”

I look at the world and I look at myself. I walk through the foggy fields of Salinas and I see the workers in the fields. As I lay awake, they stand working. Their hands move in the same celestial rhythm that followed their fathers into their sleep and made them dream of an escape. A smooth and fast motion to swipe, pick, pack, throw, bag, box, carry, repeat. Their backs grow old and they work here because they are forgotten, stuck in a whirlpool of repetition, of debt and neglect, of endless rows of economic prosperity hidden within a promise that has forsaken them.

Textbooks forget them. News anchors speak of celebrities, and commercials try to sell us food that is bad for us and big screen TV’s we do not need.

I look with saddened eyes at the society I was brought up in and the labels that were imparted upon me: Non-white, non-old, non-WASP, non-native, non-a lot of things that push me towards a self-interested ideology with a twist of a non-welcome sort of values compelled and composed to decompose the will into complacency; a society that places more value in the material than on the human soul.

I would like to think that this isn’t real. That the world I am spoon fed is fake and that I live in a society that cares for farm workers, for voting, for the true meaning of a democracy—that stops wars with votes and stops bullets with love.

I would like to think that increased police crackdowns on poverty-stricken communities are not the answer and that education is a greater weapon than a hand grenade. I’d like to think that xenophobia was eliminated and that a common person has more space in the media than a celebrity. I’d like to think that, but reality is backwards—movie stars and celebrities in the virtual world are real and human lives and home-sick hope is a dream.

What is to be done? Because that is not just the way it is. And that’s the thing about farm workers. Most of them are immigrants and if they believed that things are the way they are “just because” and nothing could be done to change their reality, they would not have made the long trek across deserts, rivers, and oceans. They would not have walked in spite of fear and the thought that they might not make it across alive.

I’m not saying that they are all devoted revolutionary seekers of truth. But they have a love for life and a soul that is ready to fight that is trapped beneath a layer of fear and a forgotten voice. It’s a long journey to where they are and a lot won’t risk losing it, so they don’t speak up.

But what happens when you eliminate that fear? What happens when you give a person the proper incentive to raise their voice and take, to pick up a book and question, to write and inflict a mind with an idea so great it speaks and grows into a world that cannot be forgotten? That disobeys when told to buy? I don’t know what happens actually. But that’s half the fun. I’m here to find out.

Sub-Commandante Marcos in his interview said another thing too. He said that in order to fight this virtual encroachment where media monopolies strive for profit and not for truth we must use the independent media. Media such as Coachella Unincorporated. Because the Coachella Valley isn’t too far off from a fairly tale land—the West is seen and the East is forgotten.

So what is to be done is neither a question that expects an immediate answer nor a rhetorical one—it’s a question that we mold and chew, and flip with our tongues, consider, figure out, revise, rethink, review, rewind, shape into a question that leads to question and then into an answer that is shaped like a spear ready to cut through doubt and spark consciousness. The word is a powerful form to educate and to flee from that virtual world that encroaches and does not let us be free to think and mold and chew on our own.

“Joaquín Magón” is a youth reporter from Coachella living in Salinas and working for the United Farm Workers. He will contribute blogs regularly for Coachella Unincorporated.

By Tony Aguilar

Trying to get your community involved in anything is a daunting task, much less in the area of policy and procedures, but this very noble undertaking could not be as effective without strong community organizers such as Yvonna Cazares, of the Coachella chapter of ICUC.

ICUC, the Inland Congregations United for Change, brings people together to strengthen families and improve communities. The organization works to develop leadership capacity in the communities it is involved in. It equips individuals with the tools they need to meet with officials at the state and local levels that are making decisions that directly affect them.

ICUC is involved in six congregations around the Coachella Valley, as well as the community of Duroville, a dilapidated trailer home park in the Eastern Coachella Valley.

Cazares was born and raised in the Coachella Valley. She knows and has experienced the issues facing her community firsthand. Cazares’ story is one of “opportunity,” as she so eloquently phrases it. Her parents immigrated to the Coachella Valley from Mexico and like many immigrant parents, they quickly realized that an education would lead their family and children to a better quality of life.

Cazares was quick to adhere to her parents’ wishes and found herself at the University of California Los Angeles straight out of high school. She surrounded herself with like-minded individuals and organizations such as MEChA (Movimiento Estudiantil Chicana de Aztlan) and LASA (Latin American Studies Association).

“I really took advantage of the opportunity to meet with other people from all walks of life, especially other Latinos that shared the same experiences,” Cazares said.

In Los Angeles, Cazares developed a level of activism and political consciousness and learned skills that undoubtedly help her in her role as a community organizer for ICUC.

After leaving UCLA, Cazares moved to the state capitol of Sacramento where she worked as a lobbyist for a small minority consulting firm that tackled issues pertaining to environmental health. After some time in Sacramento, Cazares was faced with the difficult decision of staying up north, or returning to her roots and making a difference in her community. Cazares followed her heart and returned to her native Coachella Valley, where she once again became involved in her community and the issues affecting her and those around her. As a community organizer for ICUC, Cazares helps develop members of the community so they can in turn make a difference.

“Maybe members of our community don’t know English, maybe they don’t know how to tackle certain questions,” she said. “I don’t know what it is but somehow the community needs to be equipped with those kinds of tools.”

What is it that drives individuals such as Cazares? Teens joke about leaving the valley and never coming back but Cazares did just the opposite. She was surrounded by big metropolitan cities such as L.A. and Sacramento and all that they had to offer—the nightlife and social scenes that the desert back home could never live up to. Yet Cazares came back to her community and made a difference, not for the pay check but because it’s where here heart truly lies… it lies in educating her community and helping others find their voices so they can better their lives… much like her parents’ reasons for coming to America.

ICUC—Driving Immigrants to Exercise their Rights  

By Jesus Vargas 

Illegal immigrants come to the U.S, abuse the system, live a life beyond their means, take jobs from “real” Americans and drain public resources.  These are common complaints about undocumented immigrants.

The reality is that undocumented immigrants have to deal with low wages, poor living conditions, communication problems and the threat of deportation.

In addition, some illegal immigrants report being unfairly targeted by police. Since most do not have driver’s licenses, their cars often end up getting towed.

There are some, however, who are fighting to change this police practice. The Coachella Valley chapter of the ICUC (Inland Congregations United for Change, which is part of a broader PICO organization) has already tackled the issue in the Coachella Valley.

Since the usual impound minimum is 30 days, the cost of retrieving the cars is too much for the majority of immigrants who get their cars towed, according to an organizer for ICUC. They end up losing their only form of transportation and this often leads to their livelihoods being threatened, as they can no longer get to work.

This is an especially pronounced problem in the Eastern Coachella Valley where there is a sizable immigrant and migrant worker population. Since no city in the EVC has its own police force, the Riverside County Sheriff’s Department patrols the area and by talking to community members, ICUC found that the department’s towing policy was unfavorable to illegal immigrants. If they are stopped, it is the Riverside County Sheriff’s Department policy to tow their cars. While some individual officers may give them some time to call a licensed driver to pick up the car, that is not always the case.

In Cathedral City, ICUC organized ordinary people to appeal to the City Council in order to change the city’s towing policy. They succeeded in changing the policy due to the public outcry. The Cathedral City Police Department now allows unlicensed drivers 30 minutes to arrange for someone to pick up their cars before they are towed.

This success led to other cities, including the City of Los Angeles, to alter their towing policies to be more favorable to under-privileged immigrants.

At the heart of the ICUC’s efforts are community organizers like Yvonna Cazares. Her involvement in advocacy positions during her time at UCLA and Cal State University San Bernardino provided her with the experience needed to organize movements such as the towing policy change.

“As an organizer you leave your ideology at the door,” she says.

She likens her job to that of a sports coach in that she gives people the skills and direction for them to succeed but ultimately when they’re on the field, it’s up to them to perform. She says that she could go to graduate school on the East Coast or leave for whatever reason, but she wants people to have the ability to speak up for themselves. While the pay may not be the best, she says the sense of involvement and self-satisfaction from being active in the community more than makes up for it.

Possibly due to the ICUC’s success, the Riverside County Sheriff’s Department implemented a so-called pilot program where individuals who were stopped at checkpoints in the Eastern Coachella Valley were given the same 30 minutes as in Cathedral City to get a licensed driver to pick up their car. The program was deemed a success by Riverside County Sheriff’s Department Captain Raymond Gregory but Riverside County Sheriff Stan Sniff declined to change the towing policy, Cazares said. 

While victory was snatched out of the ICUC’s hand at the last minute, they have vowed to fight on. Believing that it was state policy that got in the way, they are now mounting a challenge at the state level with the help of other PICO-affiliated organizations.

The ICUC and other PICO organizations fight for social justice, going head-to-head with powerful public and private sector officials, but they insist that there has to be an emphasis on talking to regular people.

“It all starts with conversations,” Cazares said. It seems that ICUC and Cazares will be having many more of those in the near future.

They have to, in order to find the latest problem to combat.

Reactions to the Veto SB 104 from Sacramento

We’ve been in a struggle that has tested every inch of my abilities and patience. My bones ached and the world was irrelevant. If an atomic bomb blasted half of the world into oblivion, even to that I would have been oblivious.

Twelve days of struggle in Sacramento from June 16-27^th concluded with a passionate epilogue on the 28^th to urge California Governor Jerry Brown (D) to pass SB 104, a law that would make it easier for farm workers to unionize. To our disappointment, SB 104 resulted in a veto.

In those 13 days I had the spirit of a farm worker. Farm workers knew they had to fight for this bill. Even those who were already unionized fought because they know that if farm workers don’t fight for farm workers, no one else will. So with news of the veto, a sense of disappointment, anger, and frustration was felt as fatigue crept in.

We spent the night in Sacramento in hotel rooms paid for by the United Auto Workers. I looked out my window and even though I had this great fatigue hovering over me, under me, within me, feeding off my energy like a leech, I wasn’t sleepy. I pulled out my computer and uploaded photos I had taken throughout the day. I took out my notebook and wrote down my reactions to the pictures—reactions to the faces, expressions, workers… the feelings of sadness, anger and betrayal.

Politics will be politics but politics be damned if it ever understood farm workers. A farm worker can understand politics but politics seems to have a hard time understanding them and the power that they wield.

Farm workers, I found out, place a very different value on politics. They weren’t angry so much about the fact that the Governor vetoed the bill as much as they were angry at the form that he vetoed it. From the three choices that he had: sign the bill into law, veto the bill and don’t let it become law, or not sign at all and let it become law after 12 days of sitting on his desk, he decided to veto the law with one hour left for it to become law on its own without his signature.

In talking to the farm workers many wondered why he waited until the last minute, why he made them wonder every day if he knew he was going to veto SB 104.

And there was something else they couldn’t understand. We were outside the Governor’s office and he wouldn’t come out to talk to us. He spoke with UFW President Arturo Rodriguez over the phone but he refused to show his face.

“We farm workers were a primordial part to his campaign,” said farm worker Juan Flores in an interview minutes after the veto was announced. “The millions that his opponent spent [on her campaign] are nothing compared to the power that the farm workers had to donate their time because a lot of them donated their time without receiving a dime.”

Governor Brown called farm workers to endorse his campaign during which he said something along the lines that growers brought in farm workers, squeezed them of their labor and tossed them aside when they were done with them as if they were a squeezed orange.

So we got boxes of oranges that had already been squeezed and one by one farm workers and supporters placed those oranges into boxes with a picture of Governor Brown walking alongside César Chavez and placed those oranges in the Governor’s office. That’s how they felt. Used like a tossed orange.

What can I take from this weary sense of justice? What can I learn from farm workers? They speak of dignity, they speak of justice, they speak of a forgotten hope toppled and maimed under a larger word called “budget.”

But a fight is a fight and we never took a kick lying down. Betrayed but not defeated, dignity and justice mixed into a strange primordial liquid that has given us strength to keep on moving towards the cliché known as “hope.” Hope is a sensation that we know well in movements that devour sanity and logic to leave only that—Hope. Hope is what we live for and what we live off of.

There is hunger in the fields yet hope comes through us and is manifested in a fist raised in the air and a chant that says, “¡Si Se Puede!” Hope is harvested, cared for, it is fragile. It can be drowned by overwatering or shriveled by neglect; it can wind through the paths of uncertainty.

Hope can be grown from the ground and it can be picked and bottled into wine and diluted. Or it can be eaten raw, it can be bitter, it can be sweet, it can be many things but hope is hope and we need it to live, we need it to fight and we need it to continue the struggle towards Justice.

As we left Sacramento on that last day I asked many farm workers if they thought that this was the end of the struggle. All of them said the same thing—this is just the beginning.

“Joaquín Magón” is a youth reporter from Coachella living in Salinas and working for the United Farm Workers. He will contribute blogs regularly for Coachella Unincorporated.