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 Hilda Rodriguez i first saw women’s theater perform was one evening at a MEChA meeting in 1973. They called themselves the Teatro de las Chicanas at the time. I was appalled by their presentation, titled Bronca. They looked more like male rebels, dressed all in tight black pants, black fitted shirts, boots, and long hair. I could say some of them were sexy looking. But why in the hell were they calling for “equality”? Women can get what they want by going through the back door, isn’t this true? I thought they were unnecessarily confrontational. And when I learned that some of them were already living with their boyfriends and having wild parties I thought these women were also shameless. How shocking! They were “enjoying sex without a license.” But their message would continue ringing like bells in my mind: “Hermanos , hermanas, únanse—Brothers, sisters, unite!” I think they were trying to tell the males that women are people too. I did not know what to think; I had already been living on this side of the border for six years. I did not understand the meaning of their struggle, and besides it was foreign to my traditional Mexican upbringing. But why were these loose women shouting for “equality” on a university campus? Where did they come from? I knew where I had come from. 89 90 Recuerdos / Memoirs I was fifteen years old when I came to the United States in 1965 and enrolled in Coachella Valley High School. I was placed with other students who did not speak English. We were referred to and mocked as “chuntaros” or “alambres” by mainly first-generation Mexican Americans born and raised in the United States. To us they were “Los Pochos,” who spoke no Spanish or broken Spanish but made fun of my accent when I attempted to speak English. Even within my group we would make fun of each other. I would question why and regret that my father brought me to a land where my own people belittled me, but my internal feelings of insignificance exploded outward when the high school counselor told me, “According to your low SAT scores you are not qualified as a student for college. It will be too difficult for you.” It was as if I was being sentenced to a life of self-defeat, and being told that I had no intelligence or will for higher education. The exams for getting into college were not geared for Spanish-speaking students like me. And still worse, classroom instruction was not geared to strengthen my skills to prepare me to face the challenges of higher education. At the time I may have been too isolated , ignorant, or confused to be clear about my needs. But I needed teachers to teach and prepare me to meet the college requirements in case I chose to go to college. It was hard to admit to myself that I was given passing grades just to get me out of high school. My passing grades did not reflect my educational learning. What I did learn was that having an accent was a block for higher learning. My accent was something to be embarrassed about; it was not cute like a British accent or alluring like a French accent. And I also learned that Mexican students are not expected to hope for higher education. Shutting down my hopes and essentially telling me to settle for a less intelligent and restricted life-style was a more acceptable way to treat me. Giving up was easier than getting frustrated and confused by my isolated attempts to reach higher goals. I did not want to give up. My hard-working parents were my roots of persistence. My mother would wait for the summer and winter vacations from school, and as a family we picked field crops or sorted crops in the packing sheds. I didn’t mind working because I was contributing toward school clothes, household needs, and sometimes a two-week vacation. My mother, who prepared the family meals before and after she worked alongside us in the fields, would say, “I bring you here to work because we need the money. But understand that if you do not finish school and get a decent paying job, you will have to work like this the rest of your life.” My father was in agreement that we should strive to better ourselves. He was raised in Texas during the Great Depression and...

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