I coyote-hungry-for-wisdom I say:
we are only a little while here
not forever on earth…
Who will know my name?
at least my songs?
at least my flowers?
Are we here on earth for nothing?
— Ancient Nahuatl poem translated by Toni de Gerez
One’s name is connected with personal identity and signifies who we are culturally and associated with personality. Disregarding someone’s name is akin to denying their identity.
In this column for Mother’s Day 2017, I wrote about two unnamed Mexicanas from Casa Blanca who presented a petition in 1911 to the Riverside City School District Board of Education. They requested a school be built in their neighborhood. Sadly, the women’s names were not recorded in the board minutes, nor identified in the newspaper report. Still, they made an indelible mark in the history of education equity in Riverside.
I described the women as “Adelitas de Casa Blanca” for their brave, unprecedented public stance for their children’s education.
Eventually, we learned that Ysabel Solorio Olvera led the effort to gather the signatures of Casa Blanca heads-of-households. To present the petition, they walked several miles to downtown Riverside on a hot July day.
Kimberly Olvera DuBry fondly remembers her great-grandmother: “Ysabel was a woman ahead of her time. She demanded to be treated with respect. As a Mexican immigrant woman of that era, she faced lots of barriers. At some point, it was too much to keep shouldering it, so she and her comadre took a stand. Ysabel had a lot of dignity and felt indignant about the way they were treated. Ysabel was outraged that Casa Blanca students had to walk over a mile to school while the other kids had their own neighborhood schools. ‘Didn’t we all work like the others?’ To Ysabel this was an injustice.”
Why Adelitas? During the Mexican Revolution (1910 to 1920), hundreds of women joined the troops. Some served as nurses and many fought bravely alongside men as soldaderas — armed soldiers. They were called Adelitas (representative of revolutionary women) who inspired legends, ballads, books, and movies. Like Monarch butterflies, many migrated north — some settled in California.
During a voyage to México, I purchased several books — two favorites featured soldaderas: “Emiliano Zapata: Como lo Vieron los Zapatistas,” by Fernando Robles, Laura Espejel, Francisco Pineda. And, “Mujeres en la Colección de Museo Soumaya,” Marzo 2019.
The take-away — without women, there was no revolution.
The real Adelita, Adela Velarde Perez, was born in 1900 in Chihuahua and died in Texas in 1971. Adelita joined the White Cross as a nurse against her wealthy father’s wishes. At age 15, she joined General Pancho Villa’s troops. Antonio Aguilar, archives director of México Secretary of Defense posits, “Her name has crossed the geographical and temporal borders of history and myth, with her name countless fantasies have arisen.” In addition to her gallantry, Adela was beloved for her expertise in treating the wounded.
Antonio del Río Armenta, a grateful sergeant, composed a corrido in her name:
“If Adelita wanted to be my girlfriend, / if Adelita were my wife, / I would buy her a silk dress to take her to dance at the barracks. / If Adelita went with another, / I would follow her by land and sea, …”
Adela was recognized as a veteran of the revolution in 1941, but was not awarded a pension until 1961.
María Valentina de Jesús Ramírez Avitia from Sinaloa was born in 1893 on St. Valentine’s day and died in 1996 in Brawley, California, at the age of 103. She is called the “Mulan of México” because she shared her father’s ideals and took his place in the army when he died in 1910 — dressed as a man — using the pseudonym of Juan Ramírez. She fought valiantly in over 20 battles, attaining the rank of Coronela. A corrido, “La Valentina” was attributed to her. When her female identity was discovered, Valentina was discharged.
Amelia Robles from Guerrero was born in 1889 to a landed family and died in 1984 at the age of 95. She changed the last letter of her name, cut her hair, donned men’s clothes, recruited workers from her hacienda, and joined the revolution. Amelio served General Emiliano Zapata’s troops from 1911 to 1924. Posing as a man, she attained the rank of colonel, and fought in more than 70 battles. In 1970, Amelio was officially recognized as a veteran and was presented a Revolutionary Merit Award. In 1979, she finally admitted her true gender.
Adelitas did not let sexism define them. Petra Herrera, Rosa Bobadilla, Ángela Jimenez and others served gallantly in the revolution. Countless female veterans were denied military pensions.
In 1970, Hilda Reyes co-founded Las Adelitas de Aztlán, an all female Brown Berets chapter in Los Angeles. A photo of her wearing bandoleros across her chest became symbolic of militant Chicanas’ struggle for social justice. The cover of Jesús Salvador Treviño’s book, “Eyewitness: A Filmmaker’s Memoir of the Chicano Movement,” features a collage of photographs from that era. Hilda’s iconic image is prominent, but not credited. She contacted the author to request that he identify her by name. Treviño complied.
Professor Eliud Martínez wrote in “Güero-Güero: The White Mexican and Other Published and Unpublished Stories,” “As a writer… as artists, we are born to be witnesses and to remember, to snatch from the wind the spoken stories that were never set down in writing, to rescue from oblivion the stories that history has silenced.”
Tesoros de Cuentos writing workshops in Casa Blanca aim to rescue stories that exist within our hearts and in our ancestral memories — and give literary voice in remembrance. As Tesoros’ motto cautions, “Las palabras vuelan; los escritos quedan. Words fly, writings endure.”
Frances J. Vasquez facilitates Tesoros de Cuentos and serves as director emerita of Inlandia Institute. Tesoros de Cuentos begins its fall session on Friday, Oct. 8, and will meet every other Friday. Interested parties should email inlandia@InlandiaInstitute.org for details.
-on October 09, 2021 at 04:00AM by Frances J. Vasquez
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