Latinos in the United States

Vicki L. Ruiz

Reprinted from the OAH Magazine of History
10 (Winter 1996). ISSN 0882-228X
Copyright (c) 2000, Organization of American Historians

When I was a child, I learned two types of history—the one at home and the one at school. My mother and grandmother would regale me with stories about their Colorado girlhoods, stories of village life, coal mines, strikes, discrimination, and family lore. At school, scattered references were made to Coronado, Ponce de León, the Alamo, and Pancho Villa. That was the extent of Latino history. Bridging the memories told at the table with printed historical narratives fueled my decision to become a historian.

Almost a decade ago, I wrote an article in which I briefly surveyed the (mis)representations of Latinos in college level U.S. history texts. Out of one 1,343 page synthesis, three paragraphs attempted to detail the history of all Hispanics, and in another, the experiences of Puerto Ricans were set within the context of West Side Story (1). Such dismissiveness cannot even qualify as tokenism. Today many textbook writers strive for greater inclusiveness, particularly with regard to Mexican Americans who form approximately two-thirds of Latinos in the United States. Though coverage varies from text to text, Latino history remains a last minute “add-on,” partial and disjointed. Looking toward a more satisfying synthesis, the essays and lesson plans which follow offer points of departure in incorporating Latino voices in U.S. history curricula. This issue highlights historical writings, themes, events, and, of course, people.

In “Origins and Evolution of Latino History,” Virginia Sánchez Korrol eloquently outlines interrelated historiographical trajectories as well as provides an extensive bibliography of accessible sources. Emphasizing the interdisciplinary nature of this research, she encourages educators to move beyond the experiences of discrete groups and to grapple with the notion of a shared Latino history and identity rooted in mestizaje. Albert Hurtado astutely combines historiography and narrative in his overview of the Spanish Borderlands. Sketching the rich legacies which predate European American settlement, he envisions the region as one of cultural collisions, encounters, and crossroads.

In my essay, I offer a mosaic of the historical experiences of Mexican women in the U.S., emphasizing the ways in which women have frequently relied on their community networks for survival and for social justice. matt garcía illuminates the importance of examining intercultural relations at the local level. His nuanced discussion of the Padua Hills Theatre brings out the roles of Mexican actors as “strategic accomodationists” in their quest to erode prejudice through performance.

I hope that these essays and lesson plans foster an expanded awareness of the Latino presence in U.S. History and encourage teachers to draw upon the resources available in their communities. Connecting the past to the present, I would like to introduce the issue with “University Avenue” by Pat Mora, a poem which resonates among Latinos (myself included) who were and are first generation college-bound.

               University Avenue
We are the first
of our people to walk this path.
We move cautiously
unfamiliar with the sounds,
guides for those who follow.
Our people prepared us
with gifts from the land
    fire
            herbs and song
    hierbabuena soothes us into morning
    rhythms hum in our blood
    abrazos linger round our bodies.
    cuentos whisper lessons en español.
We do not travel alone.
Our people burn deep within us (2).

Endnotes

Vicki L. Ruiz, “Teaching Mexican American History: Goals and Methods,” The History Teacher 20 (February 1987): 167-77. At that time, only one U.S. history text strived to integrate Chicano history in a substantive manner—America: Past and Present, edited by Robert Devine, et. al.
“University Avenue,” reprinted from Borders by Pat Mora (Houston, Tex.: Arte Público Press, 1986), 19.

Acknowledgments

The professional staff at the Organization of American Historians, especially Michael Regoli, provided extraordinary support. I appreciate all of their efforts to make this issue a reality. I thank my compadres Esteban y Elia Hernández for permission to use the wedding photo of Esteban’s parents, and I am grateful to ASU history Ph.D. students Christine Marín and Melissa Dyea for their assistance in locating photographs. Victor Becerra dispensed good advice and good food. Finally, I would like to acknowledge my contributors who drafted such thoughtful pieces, particularly Virginia Sánchez Korrol for her vision, commitment, and corazón.

Vicki L. Ruiz is a professor of women’s studies and history at Arizona State University. She is the author of Cannery Women, Cannery Lives (1987) and co-editor with Ellen DuBois of Unequal Sisters (2d ed., 1994).