Chicano History

Where Reality is Consumed and the Real Undone" explores the profound dangers of spectacle governance, a form of poli cal leadership that mirrors reality television, where spectacle replaces substance, and emo onal resonance overshadows factual accuracy. This essay argues that this mode of governance, exemplified by the "Trump 2.0" era, leads to a deliberate disengagement from the real, replacing it with a me culously curated, emo onally charged, and ul mately materially hollow simulacrum. By shedding the vital protec ons of legal, fiduciary, and ethical oversight that even reality TV shows must adhere to, the poli cal spectacle becomes a runaway machine, unleashing chaos and ins tu onal dysfunc on. The psychological impact of this governance style is equally devasta ng, crea ng a society of passive consumers of onstage drama rather than ac ve par cipants in a delibera ve democracy. The essay further delves into how this spectacle governance dismantles competence and intellect, replacing them with mediocrity and unques oning loyalty, as warned by Hannah Arendt. The consequences are not abstract but etched in the lives of real people, leading to policy failures, mental health issues, and the erosion of trust in ins tu ons. Ul mately, the essay calls for a return to governance based on exper se, ethics, and genuine oversight, urging readers to challenge the spectacle and protect the sanc ty of the Real.

The following article investigates Gloria Anzaldúa’s theory of (queer) reading from a theoretical and practical perspective. We focus on the communal dimension of her conception of (queer) reading departing from the “To(o) Queer the Writer – Loca, escritora y chicana”, in which we also show how Anzaldúa contributed to Queer Theory and theories of reading, generally connected to authors such as Roland Barthes or Wolfgang Iser. These theoretical reflections are followed by an analysis of Anzaldúa’s own queer readings of Latin American mythology, namely her rewriting of the goddess Coatlicue in Borderlands/La Frontera and the Yoruba deity Yemayá, in a posthumously published poem.

The history of policing in the United States has garnered renewed attention over the past two decades. Historians have rethought the operation and function of police in American society. This body of scholarship, which can be characterized as a critical history of policing, has demonstrated the ways the police became powerful, independent political forces in cities and the role of law enforcement in shaping American life beyond crime prevention or control, most notably in maintaining racial, sexual, gender, and class inequality. The history of policing has been separated from the history of crime, taking account of theoretical frameworks that treat crime as a category that is socially and politically constructed over time. Scholarship since the turn of the twenty-first century highlights several themes including the relationship between crisis and reform, the maintenance of social control, the influence of imperialism and empire, and resistance and repression. The history of police and policing in the United States is a vibrant and distinct field on the cutting edge of the carceral turn in American historiography. Historical scholarship on policing in the United States has come a long way since Roger Lane (1980, 1992) and Eric Monkkonen (1992) last

This essay explores the historical and contemporary relationship between dominium and sovereignty, and the dispossession of Indigenous peoples in Gaza, Greenland, Panama, and Canada. The concept of dominium, or ownership of land, was central to the Spanish colonial project, while the English concept of sovereignty emphasized the power to rule and control territory. This difference in approach had a profound impact on the treatment of Indigenous peoples in the Americas, with the Spanish often seeking to integrate them into their colonial system, while the English sought to displace or eliminate them. This historical tension between Spanish and English colonial strategies is reflected in contemporary political discourse and policy decisions, particularly in the divergent approaches of Democrats and Republicans to dominium. The ongoing struggle of Indigenous peoples to reclaim their land and sovereignty in the face of continued dispossession.

Nuestro país dominó durante tres siglos amplios territorios norteamericanos desde
el Atlántico hasta el Pacífico España dominó vastísimos territorios de lo que hoy
son los Estados Unidos de América durante más de tres siglos. Desde que Ponce
de León puso sus pies en la península de Florida en 1513 hasta que en 1821 se
arrió la última bandera rojigualda, fueron 308 años de dominio hispano que se
extendió desde el Atlántico hasta el Pacífico. Hay incluso quien sitúa el inicio de
esa historia unos años antes, en 1508, con la llegada a la isla de Puerto Rico, hoy
considerado suelo estadounidense

In June of 2021, the University of Texas at San Antonio Center for Archaeological Research (CAR) was retained by the Cityof San Antonio to produce a comprehensive archival and historical research report addressing issues related to burials andcemeteries at the Alamo and surrounding Alamo Plaza area. This effort was directed by the City Manager’s Office (CMO) insupport of the Alamo Citizen’s Advisory Committee (ACAC).CAR, with the direction, coordination, and support of the CMO and the City Archaeologists with the Office of HistoricPreservation, met with three members of the ACAC representing history and archaeology to respond to questions and provideregular updates. The first of these meetings was held on June 29, 2021, and they continued through the end of September 2021.In addition to coordination with the three ACAC members, CAR was also tasked with making three presentations to the entireACAC. These occurred on September 14 and November 4 of 2021, and on April 11, 2022.The report provides a comprehensive archival and historical synthesis relative to specific research topics. The results include adiscussion of the several communities that occupied the site, in particular the Franciscan Mission from 1724-1793; the Pueblode Valero from 1793-1810 and the Compañia Volante de San Carlos de Parras from 1802-1835.The report examines Spanish Colonial and Mexican burial practices together with archaeological analogs from other local andregional sites as a predictive indicator for potentially new encounters with human remains and as an explanation for remainsreported in the archival records. Included with the particular examination of the mission period, this report recapitulates theentirety of the listed burials from Mission San Antonio de Valero along with several analyses of those records. In addition tothe recapitulation and analyses, all of these records have also been made available online for anyone interested in using them.Period archival records were exhaustively examined to attempt to collect every known written account of human remainsreported in the nineteenth, twentieth and twenty-first centuries either from the Alamo buildings or within or adjacent to AlamoPlaza. This same comprehensive treatment was also applied to the archival documents and narratives related to the dead fromthe Battle of the Alamo.This work product was not conducted under a Texas Antiquities Permit, and no recommendations regarding National Registerstatus or eligibility or landmark designation are provided. All supporting research conducted for this report, report drafts,internal and external correspondence, and figures are retained at the CAR curatorial repository on the UTSA Main Campusfound under accession #2589.This work product was not conducted under a Texas Antiquities Permit, and no recommendations regarding National Registerstatus or eligibility or landmark designation are provided. All supporting research conducted for this report, report drafts,internal and external correspondence, and figures are retained at the CAR curatorial repository on the UTSA Main Campusfound under accession #2589.
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(PDF) An Archival and Archaeological Review of Reported Human Remains at Alamo Plaza and Mission San Antonio de Valero, San Antonio, Bexar County, Texas. Available from: https://www.researchgate.net/publication/363484678_An_Archival_and_Archaeological_Review_of_Reported_Human_Remains_at_Alamo_Plaza_and_Mission_San_Antonio_de_Valero_San_Antonio_Bexar_County_Texas [accessed Nov 12 2024].

As a Co-Rep for the National Association for Chicana and Chicano Studies, Pacific Northwest Foco, I helped to design and compile the program for our PNW Foco Conference that will be held on Saturday, November 9th, at Yakima Valley College in Yakima, Washington. The last regional conference in the Pacific Northwest was in 2017 at Eastern Washington University in Cheney, WA. Co-Rep L Heidenreich and the PNW Foco conference planning committee members are excited about welcoming students, community members, scholars, activists, artists, and more to this free conference.

Let Their Spirits Dance "We're pilgrims of Aztlán, heading east, following the rising sun, on our own quest, una manda, searching out an invisible trek in a maze of voices calling, prayers, magical words, singsong chants of the ancient world, good wishes, broken promises, pain, traveling through the whiteness of Aztlán. My mother, the beginning of it all, is blind to all she's done. We're pilgrims on a journey to America's wailing wall. Only our faith will get us there."-Stella Pope Duarte 2 The Vietnam War Memorial was surrounded by controversy when the design was first revealed, some calling it a "black gash of shame and sorrow," a "degrading ditch" or a "tombstone" in reaction to the unconventional nature of the site (Sturken 51). The appearance of the two black walls, sunken low into the ground that met in the middle, functioned as a visual opposition to the phallic monuments constructed out of white stone that dominated the Washington Mall already, and was seen as a degrading or shameful form of honoring those whose lives were lost in the war. For many Americans, the black wall etched with the names of fallen soldiers who fought in a failed and unwanted war, embodies the same despair and loss associated with the mourners at Jerusalem's Wailing Wall. Just as Jews go to this site to mourn and bemoan the destruction of the sacredness of the temple, Americans journey to the Vietnam War Memorial to heal old wounds, and mourn not only the death of so many soldiers, but also the social stigmatization endured by veterans of that war. Marita Sturken explains, "the memorial has tapped into a reservoir of need to express in public the pain of this war, a desire to transfer

Chicanos comprise both the oldest and newest minority in the United States with the largest number being second and third generation. They are characterized by great iTtra-group diversity along generational, locational, socioeconomic, and acculturational lines. There is also evidence of increasing differentiation in social relations with non-Chicanos, in family patterns, and in the maintenance of cultural distinctiveness. Yet, Chicanos share, to varying degrees, some common elements of history, culture, "blood ", and position relative to the American core culture. The political experiences of a Mexican American youngster are different from those of his core culture counterpart. His political world is more "locally circumscribed" than that of core culture children. The Chicano's political development is influenced by 3 complex and interrelated phenomena: (1) his cultural values; (2) t\is contacts with the dominant core culture; and (3) his societal position which results from both his cultural values and his contacts with the dominant core culture. His political development is also influenced by colonialism, his physical distinctiveness, his language, the school, the local community (barrio), authority relations, and his family.

Chicano ofrece un recorrido por expresiones como el teatro, la revista, la música, la televisión, para terminar centrándose en el cine chicano. Dibuja una línea de películas que desarrollan su trama en el contexto chicano y presenta tres momentos: el mainstream representado por Hollywood, el cine mexicano y el propiamente chicano, hecho por y para la raza que tiene el propósito de contribuir con la mejora de la comunidad; desmantela el estereotipo del ciudadano indeseable, criminal y violento, al tiempo que construye figuras representativas como el pachuco de vestimenta elegante, el zoot suit, y con una complejidad psicológica cargada de simbolismo.

Over the last two months, like many people across the world, I have been living in lock down mode, staying home, practicing physical distancing, working from home. But, unlike many, I have been most fortunate to have been doing so with my son. I was scheduled to be away for the spring and most of the summer traveling abroad, doing research and giving lectures and seminars. My son had agreed to move into my house and take care of it while I was away. All of those plans went out the window when the pandemic unleashed its deadly vector on the world. I returned to the States, and my son, who studies at the University where I teach, was also quarantined. He was laid off from his job, and he could not go anywhere else, not New York, where he grew up and most of his friends live, which was turning into the epicenter of the pandemic in the US. So, over the last months, we have spent a lot of time together, alternating cooking dinners, going for walks, hanging out and talking. He tried to teach me a card game, and I helped him put together a computer from scratch. All the time we have had to spend has been some of the best time I have had in my adult life. I have unexpectedly felt good about being a father, notwithstanding the terrible times. I knew my son was a gentle, generous, funny person. But, I did not know the depths of his goodness. He is a left democrat, of the Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and Bernie Sanders persuasion. He is funny, in the Colbert type of humor, but also is quick to express his outrage at the injustice of our society, in the John Oliver school of political humor. He is very explicit about his anti-racism and critical of how we have stepped back from the vision and passion of the civil rights. Parents are expected to like their children and to express their approval of them, even if only perfunctorily. But over the last couple of months, I come to realize that my son is a genuinely wonderful person, a person that I would want to be friends with and that I would want in my life, regardless of whether they were or not family. Getting to know my son, has forced me to think a lot about myself as a father. One of the big question that has guided this self-inspection has been: how did I managed to father of such a wonderful human being? That has been the rather unusual, and generally unasked, question that I have been asking myself as I gotten to know my son. Unusual, for in fact I did not, originally, want to be a father. I had had bad experiences with my biological father and a step-dad, my mother's second husband. I grew up fatherless, and for the most part moving from one aunt to another, until I was able to reunited with my mother, who had come to the United States to forge a path and create a life for herself and her children. I remember indelibly my father beating my mother, and I as a small child trying to shield her. But I also repressed a lot, as I found out recently. My father, in fact, disappeared from our lives, until he reappeared a couple of days before he died of a heart attack and stroke. He came to visit us, my brother and I, and I remember spending some afternoons, and visiting him in the hospital. He must have sensed he was dying. I remember his big, hirsute body. He seemed to always have a five a clock shadow. He smoked, incessantly. I remember the smell of his cigarettes, but also of what later I came to recognize as the smell of alcohol. But, I don't remember his voice, or any particular phrase, or anything he may have said to me. Over the last couple of years I have been interviewing my mother about her childhood, and about our lives before she left. My mother is the historian of my apocryphal childhood; the teller of a story she only can tell. I have asked her about how he met my father, what happened between them, and why my father disappeared from our lives, and why she remarried a man who

The territories of today´s USA and Mexico had been in constant contact since 1492, when Columbus officially discovered America. In the 19 th century, the USA purchased one part of the Mexican territory from its inhabitants after winning the war with Mexico. As Mexicans were very experienced farmers, and the USA could not manage their own agriculture and industry, a particular need for Mexican farmers occurred. In the 20 th century the very famous Bracero Program established US agriculture as the most advanced on Earth.

During his lifetime, Varela exhibited in major museums and film centers, produced over 100 experimental films and 30-40 videotapes, numerous installations, and thousands of photographs over his career. Willie Varela's papers are archived at the Stanford University Libraries in the Department of Special Collections and his films are archived at the UCLA Film and Television Archive. Varela considered himself a self-taught artist or an autodidact. In the early 1970s, he was inspired by two artists he read about who had turned to experimental film as an act of defiance: ex-Beatle John Lennon and visionary filmmaker and polemicist Stan Brakhage. Varela would get to know Brakhage, who remained "a good friend and mentor" until his death in 2003. Varela's work came to fruition during the Chicano Movement when activists thought film should be documentary and narrowly political. According to Writer Robert Chavez, "for a Chicano filmmaker to produce underground films during this period, was groundbreaking ." In 1982, Varela and his family moved to San Francisco, California, where he became a part of the strong experimental film community there. They moved back to El Paso in 1985.

Unlike many Western-born aesthetic methodologies, Chicano theater traces its emergence to one artist: Luis Valdez. His Theatre of the Sphere: The Vibrant Being is a long-awaited and most welcome addition to the field of Latinx Theater for many Chicano theater scholars, students, and artists. Organized in a four-part format, the text functions as both a Chicana/o theater history book and an acting manual. The text offers an addendum to Yolanda Broyles-González’s comprehensive explanation of the theater of the sphere in her groundbreaking book, El Teatro Campesino: Theater in the Chicano Movement (University of Texas Press, 1994). By following Broyles-González’s first published articulation of this concept, Valdez seeks to explore “the principles that underlie his innovations as a playwright, teacher, and theatrical innovator” (i). The book’s main features include a brief history of El Teatro Campesino (ETC), an adumbration of the theater of the sphere, a discussion of Indigenous culture, and an actor-training program—the Vibrant Being Workshop—all backdropped by the context of Chicano political, social and artistic movements.

Preface "Once I thought to write a history of immigrants in America," commented Oscar Handlin in The Uprooted. "Then I discovered that the immigrants were American history."* An important segment of that history is the large numbers of Mexicans who began moving into the United States in the very late 1800s. They were one of the successive waves of newcomers who helped transform an almost empty area into a powerful nation. Their coming coincided with the immigration of millions of "new" immigrants from southern and eastern Europe who came to the United States for similar reasons. From 1897 to 1930 low-paid, unskilled workers were in strong demand in the United States, especially for agricultural work and railroad building. Simultaneously, events in Mexico created a large class of migrant workers. In view of the migrant's strong ties to their ancestral area, migratory patterns would not have emerged by the turn of the twentieth century without the existence of compelling factors in the Mexican society and economy. Circumstances in Mexico provided the initial impetus for the movement northward of campesinos and peones. My major concern throughout this study is the people whom the Mexican novelist Mariano Azuela called "the underdogs" (los de abajo). This group of people comprised upward of 90 percent of Mexican immigrants to the United States from 1897 to 1930. The history of middle-and upperclass immigrants forms another story, related to this one but not part of it.

Preface "Once I thought to write a history of immigrants in America," commented Oscar Handlin in The Uprooted. "Then I discovered that the immigrants were American history."* An important segment of that history is the large numbers of Mexicans who began moving into the United States in the very late 1800s. They were one of the successive waves of newcomers who helped transform an almost empty area into a powerful nation. Their coming coincided with the immigration of millions of "new" immigrants from southern and eastern Europe who came to the United States for similar reasons. From 1897 to 1930 low-paid, unskilled workers were in strong demand in the United States, especially for agricultural work and railroad building. Simultaneously, events in Mexico created a large class of migrant workers. In view of the migrant's strong ties to their ancestral area, migratory patterns would not have emerged by the turn of the twentieth century without the existence of compelling factors in the Mexican society and economy. Circumstances in Mexico provided the initial impetus for the movement northward of campesinos and peones. My major concern throughout this study is the people whom the Mexican novelist Mariano Azuela called "the underdogs" (los de abajo). This group of people comprised upward of 90 percent of Mexican immigrants to the United States from 1897 to 1930. The history of middle-and upperclass immigrants forms another story, related to this one but not part of it.

This chapter provides an historical overview of the challenges and obstacles the Mexican American community faced in the early twentieth century, paying particular attention to education. The article provides an analysis on the segregation of Mexican American school children through the first half of the twentieth century and how the Mexican American community resisted this form of racism. The chapter segues into a discussion on the emergence of the Chicano Movement in the 1960s, which brought reform on many fronts and the development of alternative institutions that challenged white dominant concepts of education. Simultaneously the Movement confronted the master narrative, which denied the presence and contributions of Chicanos/as. Lastly, we discuss the evolution of a twenty-first century alternative university called El Colegio Chicano del Pueblo (The Chicano People College), that launched in fall 2020. We compare and contrast this alternative institution to several previous attempts from the 1960s and 1970s and although there are some stark differences, one commonality from the fifty-year period between the current attempt and previous alternatives, is the need to decolonize education for the Chicano community. This attempt at decolonization of knowledge is one step towards a greater goal of community control of institutions, which El Colegio is attempting to address.

Histories can be analyzed and classified according to their relationship to the six borders of academic history: with philosophy; personal or ideological bias; literature; merely factual reports; natural sciences, and social sciences. We suggest here eight major patterns of historical narrative, and point to examples in both classical and contemporary historians.

This essay focuses on the diversity of Latinx millennials. As sociologists, each one of us has conducted primary research on particular segments of Latinx millennials, and we draw on our respective research to identify enduring, ongoing issues confronting Latinx young people, analyzing and comparing what we see today with experiences of Latinx young people in the past. Along the way, we review scholarship on Latinx millennials, and we conclude by suggesting critical avenues for future research.

Héctor Pérez García's transformative leadership in Hispanic civil rights within the U.S. remains an integral topic of academic discussion. As a dedicated physician, a resilient World War II veteran, and a fervent civil rights advocate, García seamlessly merged these roles, paving a distinct path that defined his multifaceted advocacy. His unique approach and steadfast commitment to justice and equality not only solidified his position as a transformative leader but also emphasized the importance of his endeavors in shaping the nation's historical narrative. It is this intricate interplay of his personal experiences and professional pursuits that places García at the epicenter of academic discussions around Hispanic rights and activism. This paper is committed to unpacking the nuances of García's significant contributions, while also providing a comprehensive perspective on the socio-political landscape of his time - a setting that both shaped and was profoundly affected by his groundbreaking efforts

The Shifting Meanings of Stockton's Barrio del Chivo A S FORMER RESIDENTS prepared for the annual Barrio del Chivo reunion in the summer of 2018, Teresa Rodriguez and Nini Zaragosa reminisced about the old windmills that used to power some homes, and how others simply made-do without. Houses in the neighborhood often comprised one or two rooms, most without indoor plumbing. After the barrio's incorporation in the late 1950s, the City of Stockton came to install water services and promised to bring in streetlights and sidewalks. Rodriguez and Zaragosa recalled their dirt floors, the pump in the kitchen, and how the Sacramento-San Joaquin Delta's flooding forced homeowners to build their houses on stilts. Zaragosa went on to describe Big Dan's pool hall, Tacomb's gas station, and other locally owned businesses. These memories were focused on the progress out of poverty: homeownership in the face of racial covenants, the coming of electricity and modernization, and successful entrepreneurship. 1 They nostalgically recalled their youth in the barrio and affirmed the sentiments of another Chivo resident, John Banks, that "we were a thriving community." 2 Also known as Goat Valley, Stockton's Barrio del Chivo was home primarily to Mexican American and African American working-class homeowners from 1932 through 1962. 3 Today, former community members work to preserve Barrio del Chivo's history by meticulously collecting and recording their stories in communally held archival collections, exemplifying a widespread tradition within communities of color to combat generations of social and institutional erasure. Simultaneously, they are on the front lines of a historiographical shift wherein communities become the keepers and creators of contested archives. Refusing to submit to archival silences, these new depositories represent a radical challenge to the monopoly that institutional archives have traditionally asserted, and consequently seek to privilege historically marginalized perspectives. But combating both communal and physical erasure is nothing new to Chivo locals, who first took up this fight sixty years ago. Under threat of eminent domain proceedings, CALIFORNIA HISTORY

In the decades after the U.S. conquest of New Mexico, many White Americans viewed the territory's native-born ethnic Mexican population's preservation of its Spanish-language proficiency and other customs as an obstacle preventing New Mexican statehood. This article examines how the public education system, specifically the Albuquerque Public Schools, sought to assimilate ethnic Mexicans into dominant middle-class White American cultural values through segregation policies that led to poor academic outcomes for Spanish-speaking nuevomexicanas and nuevomexicanos.

On August 27, 1918, years of rising political and racial tensions in the border communities of Nogales, Sonora, Mexico, and Nogales, Arizona, U.S.A., exploded into armed violence as Mexican civilians and U.S. Army troops fought one another in urban combat. This article examines the tensions unleashed by the Mexican Revolution being fought in Northern Mexico as well as the xenophobic hysteria of World War I as being factors leading to the violence which left between 13-130 persons (mostly Mexican nationals) dead and which culminated in the building of the first border fences between cities along the land portion of the U.S.-Mexican boundary.

Buenas Tardes. It's a real honor to be recognized, especially by one's own and I'd particularly like to thank Julia Curry and Angie Chabram for their kind words as well as other former students, like Clara Lomas, Rosalinda Fregoso, Demian Pritchard, and Lauro Flores for nominating me, all of whom, I might add, also deserve to be recognized with this award. I also wish to thank June Pedraza and Kathryn Blackmer for this nomination. I am truly honored. We stand on the shoulders of the many that have come before us. As I thought of this day I considered mentioning others who also deserve to be recognized and when Julia sent me the list of 41 former NACCS Scholars I found that just about everyone I knew was already on the list. I then looked to see who wasn't on the list that I would propose for future recognition. All are scholars, writers, and teachers who have made substantive and sustained contributions to our field and the list is ever-growing.

Community murals in US inner city neighborhoods offer popular, grassroots representations of local identities and their relation to urban space and community culture. They are powerful tools in building neighborhood solidarity across ethnic groups, generations, and defended gang territories. Designed primarily for local consumption, murals circulate dramatic, alternative representations of local identity, heritage and history, contesting attributions of stigma and danger promulgated in mainstream media. In Boston's Dudley Street corridor that crosscuts its Roxbury and Dorchester neighborhoods, both low-income communities of color, these themes are evident in the presence of a vibrant series of community murals lining the one-mile long street. Designed and painted by local youth under the sponsorship of grassroots communitybased organizations, the murals give voice to urban youth's hopes, struggles, and aspirations for their individual and collective futures, from their positions in disadvantaged, multi-ethnic neighborhoods in a city sharply divided by race and class. Murals, public art, urban ethnography, youth. The visual culture of cities. . .represents a central formative feature of the lives and identities of contemporary citizens and demands ethno-bs_bs_banner

The authors dedicate this forum to the memory of Norris Hundley, superb scholar, perceptive editor, and steadfast mentor, whose commitment to Chicano/a and other minority histories ensured that the fields flourished and changed the way we envision the past, engage the present, and imagine the future.

This article examines how the representation of the Korean War in Rolando Hinojosa's Klail City Death Trip series (KCDTS) critiques official histories of U.S. empire through an engagement with ethical memory. My interest in Hinojosa’s Korean War fiction concerns how these texts rely on counterhegemonic remembering to both underscore the predicament of Chicanos as a subaltern group in the U.S. military environment and highlight the ways in which Chicano, Korean, and Japanese experiences of U.S. empire overlap. In the first section, I analyze the ways in which Hinojosa features the interaction of historical memories across geographies and generations. I suggest that Hinojosa’s works offer a historical re-presentation of the Korean War, framed not by the usual Cold War narrative of U.S. anti-communist imperatives, but rather by connected histories of powerlessness, loss, and displacement caused by the forever wars4 of U.S. empire. I argue that Hinojosa’s Korean War texts are works of ethical memory that together expose the lived effects of U.S. imperialism across generations and continents. The second section of the article is a sustained analysis of how Hinojosa’s distinctive use of form and genre uncovers the importance of heeding the testimonies of those whose voices are silenced and whose histories are hidden. Finally, in my conclusion, I offer a reflection on what ethical memory and re-presenting history can do for shaping more just futures.

Possibly one of the greatest misconceptions about Chicano historiography is the view that published intellectual writings by Chicanos are of recent vintage, traceable only over several decades. This assumption is in part supported by the large and growing body of contemporary published materials by and about Chicanos, especially within the past 15 years.

Preface "Once I thought to write a history of immigrants in America," commented Oscar Handlin in The Uprooted. "Then I discovered that the immigrants were American history."* An important segment of that history is the large numbers of Mexicans who began moving into the United States in the very late 1800s. They were one of the successive waves of newcomers who helped transform an almost empty area into a powerful nation. Their coming coincided with the immigration of millions of "new" immigrants from southern and eastern Europe who came to the United States for similar reasons. From 1897 to 1930 low-paid, unskilled workers were in strong demand in the United States, especially for agricultural work and railroad building. Simultaneously, events in Mexico created a large class of migrant workers. In view of the migrant's strong ties to their ancestral area, migratory patterns would not have emerged by the turn of the twentieth century without the existence of compelling factors in the Mexican society and economy. Circumstances in Mexico provided the initial impetus for the movement northward of campesinos and peones. My major concern throughout this study is the people whom the Mexican novelist Mariano Azuela called "the underdogs" (los de abajo). This group of people comprised upward of 90 percent of Mexican immigrants to the United States from 1897 to 1930. The history of middle-and upperclass immigrants forms another story, related to this one but not part of it.

TEKS (Texas Essential Knowledge and Skills): 113.41 c (12) Citizenship. The student understands the rights that are protected and secured by the U.S. Constitution and Bill of Rights. The student is expected to: (A) explain the roles of limited government and the rule of law in the protection of individual rights. (B) identify and define the unalienable rights. c (15) Citizenship. The student understands the importance of the expression of different points of view in a constitutional republic. The student is expected to: (A) analyze different points of view of political parties and interest groups such as the League of United Latin American Citizens (LULAC), the National Rifle Association (NRA), and the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) on important contemporary issues; and (B) analyze the importance of the First Amendment rights of petition, assembly, speech, and press and the Second Amendment right to keep and bear arms. c (16) Culture. The student understands the relationship between government policies and the culture of the United States. The student is expected to: (A) evaluate a U.S. government policy or court decision that has affected a particular racial, ethnic, or religious group such as the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the U.S. Supreme Court cases of Hernandez v. Texas and Grutter v. Bollinger