Page 85 of And Still Her Voice
I was scared. Maybe I should have kept silent about it, but I couldn’t. “I mean your dad, my mom, their parents.”
“No shit,” Teddie said. “You mean like they owned it?”
“Yeah, it used to be part of the Verdugo Land Grant. They were pushed out. You could probably learn more about it at the library. All I know is what happened more recently like when our parents were little.”
“Anna be careful,” Grandma whispered, but I ignored her.
“My father’s stepfather had something to do with them being repatriated, sent back to Mexico.”
“What the fuck! All that time I shared a room with Abuela and she never said anything.” Teddie stared off. “Everyone thinks if nothing’s said, then nothing happened. That’s pretty fucked up. It’s like erasing our history.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“How’d you find out?”
“Anna!” Grandma screamed out loud, startling Teddie.
“Annahas her sources,” I said. “Honestly, there are things I wish I never knew.”
***
The sun set beyond the city of Los Angeles, the buildings looking as if they were newly arrived immigrants lined up for questioning. How’d you get here? Up and down the street, the lights flickered on, a sign of home and security, of warmth and feasting families stuffing themselves like turkeys on this American holiday. A couple of people strolled by, walking off the remnants of the day as a car pulled up in front of the house. The headlights turned off, but I recognized the blue Chevy before Ruben Moya ever stepped out of the car.
He opened the gate and walked up the path. “Hi Teddie. You ready?”
“Yeah.” She turned to me. “It’s a pinche coffee shop and they don’t even know how to make their own coffee.” She stood. “We’re making some plans for our first demonstration next month to protest the war and the drafting of Chicanos and some other shit.”
“Remember, our struggle is not in Vietnam but in the movement forsocial justiceat home,” Ruben said.
“We don’t have time to just sit around like hippies, all peace and love, make pretty music and take drugs.” Is that what she thought I was doing? “We gotta make shit happen,” Teddie added. “Take a bat and swing at life’s big piñata.”
“Prima, you wanna come with?” Teddie asked. “Learn some shit about your brown people.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
CHAPTER 30
Who’s the Güera?
During the ride over, Ruben explained just how important Teddie, seated in the front, was and how much she’d done for the Berets. “Teddie, she’s a fighter, man.” I could sense his pride. I was proud of her, too. I always knew she’d make a difference in this world.
“With four brothers, I had to learn,” Teddie said. “But I also learned to serve.”
“This is a good group of young people wanting to make changes,” Ruben added. “We’re all tired of the police brutality, the bad jobs, no college, no health care.”
Quickly, Teddie got worked up. “And the young people are very attracted to this, and I’m passionate about the work we’re doing. You know, even though it’s really dinky, I come from a comfortable home, but I need life experience. Even though I could have gone if I wanted to, I figured out college isn’t for me. I want to protest everything that is unjust. Other groups are doing the same thing. Look what’s happening in the south with the Blacks.”
I’d seen firsthand what happened in Memphis. I thought of River.
“I joined because it seemed like an alternative to what was going on at my high school between the white and brown students. A lot of fights and we’re the ones being disciplined more severelyand jailed. The police ride up on campus on their motorcycles and arrest the Chicanos, not the white kids, not the surfers.”
“Surfers?”
“Yeah, it’s a white thing. There’s a lot of prejudice. Like in class, the teachers never call on the Brown kids, they never call on me.”
“She’s way smarter than any surfer,” Ruben said.
“Thanks, babe, but you know, I’m drowning, and unless things in the group change, I’m gonna swim away. I believe in what we stand for, but there are some things that gotta change.”
