As a father, I am concerned at all the outside influences that my children are exposed to in society. After a great deal of advice from my parents and through trial and error, I realize the key lies in working to instill in our kids the proper values and build that foundation for them to be equipped to determine right and wrong for themselves. For this reason I am always excited when holidays come along. Yes, because it typically means a day off of work to spend time with my family, but also because it is an opportunity to teach my kids a lesson related to the holiday. For example, during Thanksgiving we reflect on the importance of being truly grateful for what we have.

Today, March 31st, we celebrate another important holiday — Cesar E. Chavez Day. While not yet an official national holiday, Cesar E. Chavez is an inspirational figure many people have heard something about and who has left a solid example to follow. Angela, this blog entry is for you and the many other youngsters to read and learn what is possible when one puts their heart and sweat into something they believe in.

Cesar Estrada Chavez was born on March 31, 1927 near Yuma, Arizona. After living for several years in Arizona, in 1938 his family moved to California. At 27, Cesar joined the Community Service Organization (CSO) as a community organizer to urge Mexican Americans to register to vote. Through his work Cesar traveled all over the state of California making speeches and leading efforts in support of workers’ rights. In 1958, Cesar became the organization’s national director.

After ten years with CSO, Cesar left and co-founded the National Farm Workers Association (NFWA) with Dolores Huerta. NFWA was later changed to the United Farm Workers (UFW). In 1965, Filipino American farm workers began the Delano Boycott. Catching the attention of Cesar, the NFWA joined the effort and organized a strike. Six months later, Cesar and the NFWA led a historic march from Delano to the state capital of California. In addition to supporting the strike, all Americans were encouraged not to purchase table grapes. This action attracted national attention, including that of the United States Senate and in particular US Senator Robert Kennedy. For their hard work and determination, the farm workers eventually won major victories at the bargaining table.

In an effort to prove that nonviolence was the right way to conduct protest and in support of so many struggling farm workers and their families, Cesar underwent a number of fasts. During one of these fasts he said the following:

“I pray to God that this fast will be a preparation for a multitude of
simple deeds for justice. Carried out by men and women whose hearts
are focused on the suffering of the poor and who yearn, with us, for a
better world. Together, all things are possible.”

Cesar Chavez died on April 23, 1993 near Yuma, Arizona. At the time he had been back in Yuma helping UFW lawyers who were fighting a Salinas, California-based lettuce and vegetable producer in court. The company had brought a lawsuit against the union in response to the effects of the union’s boycott on the company. Despite no boycotts having occurred in Arizona, the company found that the state was more willing than others to consider the position of the company and therefore filed the suit there. Cesar literally gave his last ounce of energy for the people he served.

Through his actions, Cesar displayed a willingness to sacrifice his own health and life for the good of the people around him. A great example for all of us.

While indeed there were many events that were left out of this entry, including Cesar’s service in the US Navy, I would encourage each of you reading these words to take a few more moments and read more about this legendary figure and humble example of leadership.

¡Siempre Adelante!

Learn more at:
UFW website
http://www.ufw.org/_page.php?inc=history/07.html&menu=research

Las Culturas Bios
http://www.lasculturas.com/biographies/214-civil-rights/112-cesar-chavez

Cesar E. Chavez National Holiday
http://www.cesarchavezholiday.org/

I grew up believing that miracles only happened in the Bible. With time, I came to the conclusion that only some people had the power to do things like heal the sick or even have access to the “spiritual world.” But after various spiritual experiences and a recent revelation I am so much more faithful of the power of God that is in me.

Here is my best attempt at describing one of my many experiences.

I just returned from spring break, where I had an awesome opportunity to meet so many beautiful people. Unlike the typical spring break trips that most college students engage in, I went on tour with Gospel Choir Ministries. Through song, dance, drama and more we took over Texas and New Orleans, our destinations for this year. While Texas was a worthwhile experience, nothing was as life-changing as our time in New Orleans, a place that is still in need of financial and moral support. There is one specific experience that resonates in my mind and that was my time with the elderly.

There we were in the nursing home. It was early in the morning. The choir was singing and in complete worship. I saw as the men and women lifted their hands and were being touched by the presence of God in the room. I was walking around taking pictures, being available for anything, if in case I was needed. All of a sudden, I close my eyes and surrender to the lyrics of the song. Minutes later when I opened my eyes everyone was spread out in the crowd, praying for someone. My spirit smiled and I knew what to do next.

I went straight to this woman who was on a wheelchair. She seemed to be the youngest out of the crowd. Her name was Leshonda and she was in her forties. I kneeled by her side and started talking to her. She told me that she had a car accident that left her paralyzed from the waist down. She had lost sensation in her legs. I refused to believe that she would never walk again for the gleam of hope in her eyes provoked images of her dancing and smiling like a child. I began to pray with her and was about to finish when all of a sudden I felt this powerful force from within begin to push my prayers. I continued and everything in my mind was a blur. My mind was battling the actions of my spirit. My words were not coming out right. I was speaking different tongues. Thankfully one of my friends put his hand on my back, giving me strength as I exhausted energy through prayer. I began to pray for her healing. I touched her legs and rubbed them up and down. I began to shake, as my spirit was convinced that she would get up and walk. There was no doubt in my mind she would.

I can’t describe it but for a moment I was not in my mind, kneeling in that room. I was in my spirit elevating as I prayed with demand. It got to a point where I did not know what to do next, so I stood in silence as I tried to listen to God. She pulled my chin up and said, “I love you.” I smiled back and said that I love her too. She repeated it and told me that she can feel our connection. There was warmth in her heart and she felt connected to me. I smiled for I knew that we were one in spirit.

All of sudden she started to laugh and when I asked why she was laughing she told me she felt a burning sensation in her legs. This woman had not felt sensation in her legs for three years! She said it was like an inner fire running up her legs getting ready to do something. I rejoiced, for I knew that God had begun her healing process. I observed the way she celebrated her healing and on that moment I knew I had finished my job. She will walk and dance this year even if I don’t see it right now, I thought. Just when doubt tried to creep in my head questioning the validity of this miracle she looked at me and said: “I will send you a picture when I start dancing.” I guess we had the same image in mind. No wonder she felt a connection with me.

This experience was one in many. There were so many wonders and supernatural things that have happened that I feel as if my spirit is on a journey of its own. I concluded that we can’t capture the spiritual mysteries with our physical eyes, for we need spiritual eyes to fully understand our physical inadequacies. Nations are spiritually starving. Most people I encounter have no connection with who they are, their purpose in life, and the power that lies inside of them. Everyone has access to the power of healing, miracles, and the power of life and death in their mouth.

With this experience I am ready to conquer the world. I can only think about my new summer venture to Kenya, and as I think about all the orphans there, my spirit begins to weep. There is only so much I can do, only so much love I can give and encouragement I can share, but I do know I can feed the spirit. If you feed the spirit you feed the world. And besides, if God is with you, who can be against you?

I am STRESSED all the time! And I hate it. Really. I wish I could escape the details of my life sometimes but I can’t. I’m a responsible woman with a lot of responsibilities. I’m a good girl. I do the right thing because it’s the right thing to do. I can’t just fly to Paris or Barcelona or Rome and get away from it all. Shop, eat a lot of really good food, flirt with good-looking men, visit museums, read books in outdoor cafes.

Fantasies. How they save my life sometimes. In the minutia of daily living: working, mothering, household CEO and philanthropic giving, I can escape in my travel and interior design magazines, my Marc Anthony CDs, dancing in my living room, even folding clothes is relaxing. It’s heaven really.

I have a GREAT life. I’m not just saying that. I really do. I have a good family, great friends, an amazing daughter, a great job, a beautiful home, I give back to others. I have purpose coming out of my ears!! And I’m tired. All the time.

I’m reading a parenting book “Shalom in the Home” by Rabbi Shumley Boteach. (I’m also reading about four to five other books at the same time but that’s another story.) He talks about how the modern woman/mother is exhausted. So much is expected of her: earning a living and contributing financially to the household, raising children and running the house. This is me. My life. I so appreciate his understanding. His acknowledgement. I love that he calls women “Modern Day Heroes.” His mom was a single mom. He gets it. It’s hard sometimes. And amazing other times.

I was recently interviewed by a media company. They are doing a story on Microsoft Mothers. The interviewer, also Latina, asked me how I balance it all. Truth is I do the best I can. I could be at a parent/teacher conference in the morning and be on conference calls the next three hours. Get a call from my daughter’s school she is not feeling well, i.e., she’s bored and wants to come home while I’m at a meeting. So I get on the phone and convince her aftercare will be fun and I’ll see her soon. Then go back to my meeting. I shift gears like a NASCAR driver!

I’m taking my daughter to Disney this week to celebrate her birthday. She’s turning seven on Good Friday. She’s an amazing girl. I love her more than I could ever put into words. But, at the end of the day, she will be the judge of whether I’ve been a good mom to her. I pray for wisdom and patience a lot as I raise my angel. And she is an angel. I believe God gave her to me to show me a God-like heart, a pure and loving spirit. That’s the amazing thing about God. He loves me through my imperfections. And that’s my greatest strength as a mom. I know I’m not perfect but I do my very best.

When I joined U.S. Peace Corps I knew that my experience as a volunteer would be different. It would be different because I am not Caucasian.

In the book “So You Want to Join the Peace Corps: What to Know Before You Go” the author Dillon Banerjee wrote that his experience was different because he, like me, was a minority and host country nationals set expectations prior to meeting him he couldn’t fulfill. For example, when people in other countries meet an American, they are expecting to meet someone like Tom Cruise, Angelina Jolie or Bruce Willis. An American like the ones who are on television. An American who is famous.

So when my friends and colleague first met me — a nerdy male with curly black hair and cinnamon skin — it was a bit shocking. First, people in Pryluky confused me for being black. Then, I was confused for being Arabic. I corrected them. I told them that I was born and raised in America and that my parents are Dominican and I consider myself a Latino American.

Most of the time, their response was no response at all. The people I met needed time to absorb and process this information. I believe it’s because they were realizing that television’s portrayal of Americans is not entirely accurate. Television, at least the American programs that are shown abroad, do not show the full-fledge diversity of the United States.

When I began writing this blog on October 2007, I realized that I was questioning my ethnicity and race in Ukraine. I was frustrated that people couldn’t comprehend that I was a Latino American. But as my service nears its end, I better understand that race and ethnicity are not questioned here. Most people associate you by the country where you were born and raised. This was the cultural belief that took me a while to understand because in the States our culture is a bit different. The American concept is to categorize an individual by race or ethnicity.
When I go to work or go shopping the people who I pass by on the street say, “Good Morning Pedro” or “Hello Our American.” Therefore, here I am the American. I am Pedro the American.

Even though I am seldom mentioned as a Latino, I feel highly appreciated for my skills and accepted for who I am. In short, I feel welcomed in the community even though I am the foreigner. Even though I am the foreigner that looks different, who reacts different to situations, who thinks differently and who speaks two foreign languages.

A risk I took by coming to Ukraine was that I knew I would be a visible person in my community. I was afraid that this would make me a target. That it would make me easy to be discriminated against or assaulted. But two years later, nothing has happened. In fact, quite the opposite. I feel incredibly safe here and people are more than courteous. I feel accepted in the country I hardly knew two years ago. I feel that the family that I lived with for a year would have adopted me if they had a choice and that my friends would prefer for me to stay instead of going back home.

I never imagined this situation, but I am so grateful to have had this experience.

Through the long winter months this is the moment most Americans have been waiting for. The winter months provide a hibernation of sorts from the sun that causes our minds to freeze. We live in a cocoon, trapped behind closed doors (unless you live in San Diego or Florida) and watch our American-invented sports and root for our teams. Basketball takes second billing as American Football dominates our conversations (I personally call Football, throw ball). Hockey is in the mix, but not as much anymore. Oh, and Football (soccer) is not even in a discussion.

We celebrate Halloween, although ironically this is a holiday created by one of our darkest hours as a colony, where women were being accused of witchcraft and eventually murdered for such erroneous accusations. Thanksgiving, the fraud holiday; where pilgrims and Native Americans exchanged cultural knowledge and ate together. If the Native Americans only knew what was about to ensue, I wonder if they would have taught the Pilgrims how to harvest corn. Christmas (Christian Holiday), a time when everyone is in a good mood, and full of giving because there is no reason for us as human beings to be cordial to each other for the rest of the year. And so it goes on: Martin Luther King Jr.’s birthday, Presidents Birthday, Black History Month (although I have to say this is another laughable celebration, because Blacks are American, thus their history is American history but it doesn’t make it to our general history books), and Women’s History Month.

And through all these months, the leather glove is sleeping like a grizzly bear. Maybe it’s somewhere in the midst of the closet, underneath of all the “Throw Ball” equipment, or unwanted wool sweaters received for the holidays. Or if you are a true aficionado, the new glove you were giving for Christmas is oiled, has a ball in it and rubber bands around it to break it in. Yes, two months between the mattresses can give the glove the smoothest and most righteous, softest pocket from which to catch a baseball. Hmmmm … the smell of the leather is profound. It’s like walking into a Wilson’s leather outlet. So, are we there yet?

Are we there yet? You know what I’m talking about — the incredible sound of the baseball crashing into a catcher’s mitt making the explosive popping sound, where the smell of the fresh, bladed grass has you in euphoria simply because the smell is pure. Where a game of catch with your buddies turns out to be a Ken Griffey-imitated catch in center field, extending yourself horizontal to make contact with the grass and later explaining the bruises to your mother, that “I was just playing baseball, I swear!” Or, every time the ball is thrown up in the air, you shake your head hard enough to have the cap on your head just fall from your scalp (because it looks cool). Or how about the countless hours throwing a tennis ball against a wall to work on your fielding? (Because Ozzie Smith did it, so you do it too) Or the endless hours of hitting rocks with your bat because you don’t want to chase balls?

Or actually playing in a game, where the ball makes contact with your bat, and you run as fast as you can to first base, then you see the first base coach screaming to go for two, and as you round first, you make eye contact with the third base coach and he’s giving you the sign to come to third. As you touch second base you feel the wind against your face, you feel your cleats digging into the ground, the helmet barely staying on. But as you get closer you see the coach giving you the sign to slide into third. Now, how do you do it? Do you go in head first like Pete “Charlie Hustle” Rose? Or do you slide left leg under the extended right? Decisions, decisions, but you only have one second to make. So, you leap in the air head first into third, your body making contact with the ground almost crushing your chest, but who cares? Your clothes accumulate dirt that quickly becomes part of your uniform for the rest of the day. Your arms extended, finally making contact with the bag, and late tag touching your forearm. And finally, the call: SAFE! with emphasis from “blue” (umpire). Wow, what a feeling! As you get up you are dusting yourself off, and the dirt you were able to shovel into your clothes is in your pants. The home crowd roars as you shake your head to get dirt from your ear. You just have contributed to the most exciting play in baseball, the triple.

Most people will tell you that hitting a home run is the most thrilling feeling for a baseball player. I never could hit the ball very far, but I could place it. For as short as I was, I could make contact with the ball and pretty much put it where I wanted: Over the second baseman’s head, no problem; a line drive between third and short? Please! To stand at third base and having people admire your hustle, to go around first and hear people screaming, “TWO, TWO” then hear them scream, “GO,GO,GO” once you round second, and hear them scream “SLIDEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.” You can’t compare it to anything in the world, unless, of course, you get thrown out like it happened a few times. So, I ran the coach’s sign a few times, what can I say, I live dangerously. I lived dangerously like those women in Salem, Mass. And on occasion when I stole second or had a double, I felt like the pilgrims, stealing signs from the catcher and pitcher and sending them in to my bench. That evidently caused me to get hit by a pitch on several occasions. I just compared it to the Natives fighting back. But scoring with the bases loaded on a walk to win the game? Christmas came early and you just had to celebrate.

Baseball season is here and, just like politics, it has gotten dirty. Steroids have dominated the baseball news for almost 5 years now, and it won’t stop because the owners understand what puts the people in the stands (homeruns). So, despite the atrocity done to the sport by steroids and the abusers, I still can’t wait for my Dodgers to come out and win it all this year for the first time since I was a twelve-year-old in California. That’s right! Dodger Blue, “If you don’t know, now you know!” The Dodgers were the first team in 43 years to have a Black player on their team and also the first team to integrate their spring facilities in Florida. And the team that gave me the euphoria of a lifetime. To see Kirk Gibson hit a game winning homerun in game one of the 1988 World Series against Dennis Eckerly of the Oakland A’s was as inspirational as anything I’ve ever seen in sports. To win the World Series from the Bash Brothers A’s was a monumental task, but they did it. Life lessons are often hidden in sports, stretching a double into a triple, taking chances, stealing signs, and getting punished for it, it’s a part of life, a part of who we are, and all in all, Baseball with all of its ugliness and flaws in the last few years, it’s still America’s pastime.

So, “Let’s Play BALL!”

I just listened to Senator Obama’s speech on race and politics and I’ll let others dissect it to pieces and debate whether he really needed to go after his former pastor in the manner that he did.

However, I wanted to just briefly touch on two things that jumped out at me. He spoke about the “legacy of discrimination” facing African-Americans and said that “current incidents of discriminations, while less overt than in the past – are real and must be addressed.”

Sadly, as far as Latinos are concerned, particularly immigrants, incidents of discrimination are increasing and they’re blatant – not “less overt.” Just check out the Internet where people post comments to stories about Latinos or immigration or the need for bilingual websites. Their comments just drip and scream hatred.

The Southern Poverty Law Center says the number of hate groups in the U.S. has increased to almost 900 last year and we have 34 right here in the Garden State. The organization attributes a hike of 48 percent since 2000 to the continuing immigration debate.

So it ain’t pretty but we all knew that.

But I really wanted to focus on another point that Senator Obama made – and it was beautifully said:

In the end, then, what is called for is nothing more, and nothing less, than what all the world’s great religions demand – that we do unto others as we would have them do unto us. Let us be our brother’s keeper, Scripture tells us. Let us be our sister’s keeper. Let us find that common stake we all have in one another, and let our politics reflect that spirit as well.

When I heard him utter these words, I was grateful. Yes grateful.

Just this past week alone, we’ve all heard a lot of ugliness and nastiness from people in the public arena – including one certain ex-politician and his ex-wife who live right here in New Jersey. And for what?

I’m sure most of these people – including those posting those anti-Latino comments – will be in church on Easter Sunday all prettied up and smelling good with innocent eyes raised to the heavens. They’ll be on their best behavior if only for an hour or so.

But what if we heed the simple message in Brother Barack’s remarks – not for just one hour each Sunday but – hey, this may sound crazy – for each and every hour of each day in the few years we are breathing and existing on Planet Earth?

Do unto others as we would have them do unto us.

A few years ago, the congregation at my church heard a very simple – and powerful – suggestion from Rev. Phyllis who is just on fire when she preaches. When you’re feeling impatient and angry and hateful at, say, a cashier because you think that person is taking her sweet ole time in taking care of your needs, just think these six words: “I behold the Christ in you.”

Look, I’m not trying to preach at you or anything like that ‘cause that’s not my style. But try thinking or quietly saying those words next time you want to smack someone because they’re driving too slow, or talking to a fellow employee instead of snapping to attention and taking care of you, or delivering your paper at 7:00 am instead of 6:30 am.

I behold the Christ in you.

You’re going to see and feel something magical happen. More often than not, you’ll see a smile appear on the cashier’s face. And you’ll feel all that negative energy leave your body as you suddenly see a human being who may be having a bad day because her bills are mounting up, her kids need new clothes, and she’s been standing on her feet for hours taking care of customers who don’t even bother to thank her.

So no matter what you or I think of Senator Obama and his speech, I personally thank him for what he said today.

In the end, then, what is called for is nothing more, and nothing less, than what all the world’s great religions demand – that we do unto others as we would have them do unto us.

I am hopeful that his message will find its way into the hearts, minds and souls who need a little reminder that, after all is said and done, we’re all in this together.

Exhausted after walking 40 blocks from the American Museum of Natural History to Midtown one Monday afternoon last September, my boyfriend Ted and I stopped to rest a block away from Columbus Circle. We were right across the street from Jazz at Lincoln Center, by the Columbus Circle shops, when we noticed a crowd forming. “I wonder what’s going on,” I said as we both observed photographers take pictures non-stop at some people going into the building. More interested in Starbucks than the swanky event, Ted said he would walk me across the street on one condition: we’d stop by and get coffee afterwards.

But once we crossed the street, Ted forgot all about the coffee. We had found out Jodie Foster and other stars had entered the building. The Brave One would be premiered that night. Taking out my Sony 8.1 mega pixel camera, I snapped a photo of Kirk Douglass as he stepped out of a limousine and waved at the crowd. After 20 minutes, the mass of people was thinning out, and we thought we’d had enough fun for the day.

My mother was waiting patiently for us to have dinner at home, so we started to leave. Just then, a 5’5” brunette wearing a white t-shirt and holding up 10 tickets and said, “Do you want to go to the premiere?”

As a 24-year-old Latina advocate and journalist, I could barely afford a movie ticket and a $10 popcorn and soda. “Are you serious?” I asked. Ted, a New Jersey corrections officer, had a huge smile on his face. To try and save money, we skimped on five-star restaurants and instead ate at diners. In fact, we were supposed to be vacationing in Miami Beach that Monday, but to save money, we opted for a day in the city.

The promoter smiled, handing me, Ted and a Fordham University sophomore tickets to The Brave One. Wearing a black Harley-Davidson cap, jeans and a black shirt, Ted blushed as we took the elevator with hordes of people dressed in suits and women in business attire and evening dresses. I felt underdressed in my black top and Chinese-inspired ankle-length skirt and flat black shoes. The usher directed me to the left hand side of the theatre, and escorted Ted to the other end of the movie theatre. Every row was filled, and we couldn’t get two seats together. I sat three rows away from the big screen, next to an architect named Luis. Ted sat near five teenagers who talked throughout the movie.

“I just saw Jodie Foster’s back. She’s wearing a pretty purple dress,” I called Ted to tell him. “Naveen Andrews is sitting four rows behind me,” said Ted, a fan of Andrews’ character, Sayid, on the television show Lost.

The actors sat amongst us as the lights began to dim and the previews popped up on screen. We cheered when Foster’s character, Erica Bain, transformed from victim to vigilante. A week before, I read an interview in Entertainment Weekly where Foster said she was against guns. I looked back and caught a glimpse of her watching herself on film. She was smiling.

After the movie, Ted and I were heading toward the exit when a woman waved two tickets at us. “Would you like to go to the after party?” she said, as we descended the escalator. I was speechless. It was our lucky day. “Thanks,” Ted said, taking the tickets, and my arm. The woman and her husband couldn’t go to the after party and asked that we give them away if we didn’t want to go.

“What do you think?” he asked. “We’re not dressed for it, and we already saw the movie. Let’s not push our luck,” I said.

“Honey, we’re on a roll, we might as well,” said Ted, as we went back up the stairs to the after party. Ted put his hand on my back, as if trying to muster up courage to enter the posh party. The first person who caught our eye was Richard Belzer, who plays Det. John Munch on Law & Order: SVU. “Excuse me, Mr. Belzer? Could we please take a picture with you?”

Sure, said the amicable man in his sixties. Though I get star struck by meeting politicians – I’ve met Rudy Guiliani and his wife, Sen. John Kerry and Christie Whitman, New Jersey’s first female governor – I was starting to get a little weak-kneed by meeting Belzer.

“I love watching you on Law & Order: SVU,” I said, a little nervous. “Thank you,” he smiled back, and then disappeared into the crowd.

Next we saw Robert Downey Jr. by the hors d’oeuvres. “Do you want a picture with him?” Ted whispered. “Naa,” I responded. I was busy looking for Jodie Foster. Grabbing a glass of Cabernet, I spotted Terrence Howard walk right in front of me, followed by a few admirers.

“I’m a fan of your work,” said a woman who squeezed in front of me. Knowing he was about to sit at his table, I made my way to the actor. He signed our programs and let us take pictures too.

“This was one of the best days of my life,” said Ted as we left the party an hour later.

On March 8, 1908, more than 15,000 women marched through the streets of Manhattan in the first ever international Women’s Day celebration. They marched to demand shorter working hours, an end to sweatshop working conditions, better pay, an end to child labor, and the right to vote. They were immigrant women mostly from eastern European countries; immigrants much like those today who had come to American looking to build the American Dream, yet had to struggle everyday to make that dream a reality.

One hundred years later, the struggle to keep the American Dream alive continues. Workers everywhere, especially women workers, have seen how building the American dream has become more difficult everyday. Women in the workplace today still face discrimination. A new report by the ITUC, the Global Gender Pay Gap, demonstrated that women throughout the world are paid 16% less than their male counterparts. According to the US Census Bureau, the gap is even wider in the US; in 2007 women were paid only 77 cents for every dollar a man is paid. These figures are even worse for women of color: African-American women earn only 68 cents and Latinas 57 cents for every dollar a man earns. Pay inequality is less severe for White women than for women as a whole, but they still earn only 88 cents for every dollar that men earned in 2000.

This wage discrimination has an impact on the economic viability not only on women, but on the entire family. Today more women than ever work for a living. According to the US Department of Labor, in 2003 nearly four in every five mothers with school age children were in the paid workforce. Wage discrimination, stagnant wages combined with the lack of good health care and pension benefits in the majority of jobs, makes it difficult for women to accumulate enough wealth during their working years.

It is no wonder then that for most working women, achieving the American Dream has become more difficult everyday. According to a poll by Celinda Lake, nearly three out of four voters believe that it is becoming harder to achieve the American Dream. Women are working harder everyday and earning less; they are losing benefits and are concerned about the lack of opportunities for their children to receive good childcare and a good education. For the 2008 presidential elections, key economic issues like good jobs with health care benefits and a pension have overtaken the war as the dominant issue for the 2008 presidential elections.

One hundred years of struggle by women has brought at least some changes. Women are able to vote their pocketbook issues and they are demanding that candidates put forth clear proposals on health care and education, and in some states forcing legislators to adopt Paid Family Leave (like NJ) and Wage Adjustments programs in more than 12 states including Iowa. Women voters today are the backbone of the Democratic Party, voting in greater numbers than any other group and demanding that their concerns are part of any presidential candidate’s platform. Although having a woman run for president is history in itself, the fact that both candidates (Clinton and Obama) have been forced to debate issues like health care demonstrates that women’s pocketbook issues cannot be ignored.

One hundred years later, on the anniversary of the first-ever Women’s Day march, we can once again celebrate the gains that women working together have brought forth in our society. Those immigrant women who marched on the streets of Manhattan 100 hundred years ago gave us the right to vote. And today we are voting because we want to make sure we keep building the American Dream for our families and our future generations.

¡Que Viva el Día Internacional de Las Mujeres! ¡Que Vivan las Mujeres!

Last summer, I attended the National Council of La Raza’s (NCLR) Annual Convention in Miami. At the conference, the person who got the largest standing ovation wasn’t Hillary Clinton or Barack Obama. It was Rev. Al Sharpton who was a keynote speaker for the conference luncheon on July 24, 2007. He addressed a topic that many in our community do not like to address — the question of relations between African-Americans and Latinos competing against each other.

The NCLR is the largest Latino civil rights organization in the United States and its annual conference routinely draws 30,000 people from all over the United States and its territories. This was an outstanding speech that got a long standing ovation from the thousands of Latinos who attended the event. When you see it for yourself, I think you too will applaud.

To view the video of Rev. Sharpton’s speech at the NCLR Annual Conference, click on the link below:

http://www.nclr.org/files/47829_file_Al_sharpton.wmv

First and foremost, thank you to LatinosNJ.com for this opportunity to share with our community through another medium. This website was born from a need to increase and better organize communication within our community. Your existence and service go a long way in strengthening our community by putting useful information affecting our community front and center. I am therefore humbled by this opportunity to contribute and look forward to working towards raising the level of debate in our community and helping bridge the gap between our community and our Latino elected officials.

La Causa

One of the passages I continually refer back to for inspiration is the following: When Robert Kennedy broke bread with Cesar Chavez after his great fast on March 10, 1968, he addressed a crowd of 6000 farm workers in Delano, California. He said “When your children and grandchildren take their place in America — going to high school, and taking good jobs at good pay — when you look at them, you will say, ‘I did this. I was there at the point of difficulty and danger.’ And though you may be old and bent from many years of labor, no one will stand taller than you when you say ‘I marched with Cesar.’”

Of the many reasons why I enjoy this passage, two stand out. The first is that it serves as an example of political leadership working together with real people to address real issues. In the case of the grape boycott, Robert Kennedy’s visit highlighted a struggle that many in our country did not know was going on. In doing so, more attention was given to the issue and ultimately farm workers were able to organize and achieve higher wages and better working terms from the large agribusinesses. Despite any belief to the contrary, both of these forces are interdependent.

Second, this passage shows that all large successes do not need to come from large organized efforts. In fact, what is needed is a willingness to stand up for what one believes. Chances are there are more around you that feel the same way and will stand up with you at the sight of action. This lesson is as important today as it was back then. It teaches us to stand up for what we know to be right and show others by example that together we can make a difference no matter the magnitude of the challenge.

This is the essence of La Causa. It is our community working together and standing up for what is right. For what is fundamentally fair. Yes, you may be the first to stand up, but rest assured that others will follow your leadership. We hear many say the famous phrase “Si Se Puede” but it is not until we yell it from the top of our lungs and let it resonate from our bodies that we truly understand que si es verdad. ¡Si Se Puede!

The more we understand the concept, the easier it will be to know the difference between fighting for crumbs and demanding our fair share. At stake is not simply bragging rights as some would argue. At stake is the quality of life for our elders who may not receive the adequate health care coverage they need. At stake is a more solid foundation for our young children as they begin their education. At stake is the basket of tools our community needs to achieve the American Dream.

The Presidential Race

This year’s Presidential elections further highlight the potential effect of our community’s unity. On the Democratic side, it is clear that for one candidate it was the Latino vote in many key states like New Jersey, Nevada and California that have kept this race competitive. Even today, March 4th, the community’s vote will determine the winner of another crucial state, Texas. Crucial because depending on which candidate the community backs, it may turn out to the final nominating day.

On the Republican side as well, the Latino community’s support for Senator John McCain, one of the authors of the recent failed immigration bill in Congress, helped deliver the states of Florida and California for him. Two states that played a key role in narrowing down the field to what it is today.

As both parties gear up towards the general election, it will be impossible for either to neglect this important group of voters. Each candidate will need to highlight how they plan to address the issues critical to our community. Many of the same issues that interest the general population, but for one reason or another have affected our community more.

I am confident that the more the Latino community works together the greater the successes our community will achieve. The votes are there to make an impact, but it will take embracing this power to finally put our issues front and center in the national debate.

¡Siempre Adelante!