Women, Gender, and Families of Color is edited by Jennifer Hamer of the University of Kansas.

The inaugural issue, due out in early 2013, is a collection of articles that explore various elements of Black senior women’s sexuality, including body image; sexual and reproductive health; and the politics of race, class, gender, age, and sexual orientation on Black sexuality. It is guest-edited by Bette Dickerson, Associate Professor of Sociology at American University and past president of the Association of Black Sociologists, and Nicole Rousseau, Assistant Professor of Sociology at Kent State University and award-winning author of Black Woman’s Burden; Commodifying Black Reproduction (Palgrave Macmillan)

Visit the journal page for information about submitting and/or subscribing.

Read the full press release.

Q:  How do you define “Compañeros” and why did you choose this for the title of the book?

A:  “Compañeros” refers to people coming together in solidarity to fight against oppressive forces. They create emotional and intellectual bonds. They share a common condition or history. The title of Compañeros actually emerged from the narratives of the activists and volunteers I interviewed for this project. On multiple occasions, participants would use the term “compañeros” to refer to those peers or equals they encountered in HIV/AIDS and LGBT-related community-based organizations and other grassroots groups. I believe the term captures what is unique in the activisms and volunteerism of Latino gay and bisexual men and transgenders. 

Q:  Was it difficult for any of the people in your book to share their story? If so, why?

A:  Generally, all participants were very open about their lives and generous with their time. I think many of them really wanted to share their stories to a larger audience (via this project). There were a few instances in which participants were reserved about their intimate lives. For example, one participant did not want to talk about her relationship with her brother. She briefly mentioned that there were some problems between them earlier in their lives. Then, her voice broke and her eyes got teary. She composed herself and said “let’s move on to the next topic.” In another instance, several participants did not want to elaborate on the emotional and sexual aspects of their lives with partners or boyfriends. As I wrote the manuscript, I decided not to include this facet of their personal lives — even though they shared in the interview process — as I did not believe it was crucial to understanding their lives as activists and volunteers in the fight against HIV/AIDS.

Q:  Your interviewees were based in San Francisco and Chicago.  Did you observe any general differences in their experiences based on geographic location?

A:  Yes, there are several differences. The immigration patterns are different. Latino gay and bisexual men and transgenders immigrants in San Francisco come from a larger variety of places — in Latin American and within the United States. Those in Chicago generally come from Mexico, and Puerto Rico and tend to be born and raised in the area. Thus, the people in Chicago have more local family connections than those in San Francisco. Another difference is the level of activism, which appeared to be higher in San Francisco. Likewise, those in San Francisco seem to have a more heightened awareness of discrimination in the form of racism and homophobia than the individuals in Chicago.

Q:  When researching this book, what was the most compelling thing that you discovered?

A:  The transformation these people experienced by being involved in HIV/AIDS and LGBT affairs. Without a doubt this is what I found to be the most compelling, attractive, and powerful aspects of their stories. Through their activism and volunteerism, these Latinos found and created a sense of themselves and made sense of the world around them. It helped define who they are and where they felt they belonged. The force of these transformations was fueled by the discrimination they saw and experienced around them. Many of these activist encountered homophobia and racism early in their lives, which translated into isolation, dislocation, and a fragile sense of oneself. All of that is changed by being involved in HIV/AIDS and LGBT causes with compañeros.

Q:  Why do you believe this topic is important today?

A:  As a society, we are still in the midst of a fight against HIV/AIDS, racism and homophobia. Although we have made some progress, there is much to be done. In this fight, the voices of Latino gay and bisexual men and transgenders have not been heard. As a group, they are, and have been, active in HIV/AIDS and LGBT affairs. They have made tremendous contributions. But their stories have been ignored or distorted. Their stories tell us that being involved in community and societal affairs is not only important to change oppressive forces but to find oneself — a sense of who we are and where we belong. The experiences of these activists and volunteers, as told in Compañeros, also help us appreciate the diversity and richness within Latino and LGBT communities. This understanding is needed to create a truly multicultural or plural society.

In Chicanas of 18th Street, six female community activists who have lived and worked in the Pilsen neighborhood of Chicago discuss how education, immigration, religion, identity, and acculturation affected the Chicano movement.

From the Introduction:
Urban renewal changed the configuration of the Near West Side. Several neighborhoods were upended in order to accommodate an expressway interchange and establish a permanent site for the Chicago campus of the University of Illinois. The evisceration of the Near West Side Mexican community prompted many Mexicans to settle in Pilsen, another traditional imimigrant port of entry, just south of the Hull-House area. In the 1960s, Pilsen became the first predominantly Mexican community in the city (Kerr, 1976) .Concentration of the Mexican population facilitated Mexican community development.

The changing character of Pilsen allowed Mexicans to have some impact on local community institutions. Churches began to adjust to the influx of Mexicans. Masses were offered in Spanish, special outreach programs were developed for Mexican families, and churches became vibrant community centers that involved entire families. Although Mexicans certainly influenced the local schools, the relationship between the Mexican community and the Chicago Public Schools was problematic. Issues such as bilingual education, the hiring of Mexican teachers, inadequate facilities, and the general poor quality of education became points of tension and eventually open opposition.Mexicans were soon able to exert their influence through the neighborhood civic organizations. Pilsen Neighbors Community Council, originally serving a Bohemian population, eventually became a vehicle for Mexican civic action. Developed as an Alinsky initiative, Pilsen Neighbors became a center for community grassroots leadership.

In the 1960s, economic and political systems were being challenged at every turn. Across the Third World, those nations conquered and exploited by Europe and the United States, such as Vietnam, were demanding independence. Popular forces in developing countries were rebelling against neocolonial exploitation (Galeano, 1973). Armed rebellion against authoritarian regimes linked to foreign interests was commonplace. The Cuban Revolution proceeded on a left trajectory and defeated the United States at the Bay of Pigs. Revolution was in the air, and it was reaching the United States (Elbaum, 2006; Gitlin, 1993; Pulido, 2006).

In the United States, Blacks tired of economic, political, and educational marginalization and gradualist remedies that amounted to little progress entered a community process to secure civil rights that soon transitioned into a call by some for Black power and fundamental structural change. The Black civil rights struggle and the antiwar movement ignited other campaigns for social justice, including women’s and gay rights movements. Subordinated groups that historically had been exploited and relegated to the bottom of the social and gender hierarchies joined the appeal to democratize the nation, seeking full citizenship rights either within the constraints of the current political system or as a product of the reconfiguration of another. Mexicans had a long history of resistance in the face of adversity. Political strategies such as those advocated by the League of Latin American Citizens and the GI Forum, organizations that had developed in the face of great adversity in the 1920s and 1940s, attempted to exchange patriotic loyalty and military service for the prerogatives of full citizenship. However, segments of the Vietnam generation tired of this strategy that seemed to yield few results. Despite being loyal constituents of the Democratic Party, the needs of Mexicans continued to be ignored (G. Mariscal, 2005; Navarro, 2000; Oropeza, 2005).

*****

Q: You have co-edited a collection of plays by Latinas.  You and Catherine Casiano have chronicled women’s plays and performance pieces and given each playwright a forum on which they tell their own stories in their own words and provide a glimpse of the kinds of stories they have created for the stage.  Where does your own stage life begin?

Elizabeth C. Ramírez:  My family was very attached to the church in our barrio.  My father was a house painter, and he and my mother both valued education and performance.  When a new school opened at our Catholic church, we were enrolled.  A young Belgium priest staged elaborate productions, and I was often cast.  An unusual ability to memorize poems, stories, dramatic pieces made me a ready performer for any visiting church leader or special events.  Once we moved, there was only one opportunity when I took theatre in h high school, and despite being one of the few Chicanas in the class, the one Chicana nun cast everyone but me for our big production of House of Bernarda Alba, the usual play for all-girls schools.  Fortunately, the part of the senile grandmother became mine when the girl with the part did not learn her lines.  I, of course, had all of the lines down already.  However, history was always the biggest draw, and when I discovered I could study theatre history and criticism and teach as well, I found my calling.  Perhaps the best part came when I was able to study with the recognized leading theatre historian, Oscar G. Brockett.  When Brock was working on one of his countless editions of his History of Theatre, he said to me:  “If I can write a whole history of Theatre, I don’t see why you can’t write one about Spanish-language performance in the U.S.”  I have done so ever since, both teaching multicultural theatre and working professionally as a dramaturg, with an emphasis on Latina performance.  I was also the Director of Ethnic Studies at the University of Oregon and a fellow in Dramaturgy at the American Repertory Theatre in Cambridge, Massachusetts.

Q: More and more we hear about the growing number of Hispanics in the U.S.  Where did you begin your search for Latina playwrights?  Are they really out there?  Why is this history important?

Elizabeth C. Ramírez: As the United States was undertaking a new census in 2010, we knew that the Hispanic population in the United States had undergone tremendous growth since the 2000 U.S. Census.  According to The Hispanic Population: Census 2000 Brief, out of 281.4 million residents reported in the 2000 census (excluding the Commonwealth of Puerto Rico and the U.S. Island Areas), 35.3 million, or 12.5 percent, were Hispanic, of which 7.3 percent were Mexicans, 1.2 percent Puerto Ricans, 0.4 percent Cubans, and 3.6 percent were “other Hispanics.”  The 2000 census data forecast a new picture of the nation.  Not only were these numbers showing a firm presence but also continual growth.  Unquestionably, the growing number of Latinas/Latinos in the United States makes it vital that the individual contributions of each be understood, and it is by seeing their similarities and differences that this can be accomplished.  Thus, we collected diverse work by Latinas, presenting both English and bilingual play texts that aim to inform others about this remarkable group in the U.S.

Q: Your collection of plays includes 12 little gems of varying styles, forms, themes and genres as well as commentary by two leading spokeswomen of contemporary theatre.  How did you decide which playwrights you would highlight in this manner?

Elizabeth C. Ramírez: This anthology is distinguished by its variety in form and content.  Through the creative expression found in this compilation, we examine eleven playwrights who are also theatre practitioners to varying degrees.  Perhaps most often, women have told us that they produced their stories in order to insure that their voices would be heard.  Of the more than twenty Latina origins found in the United States, this first volume features Cuban, Puerto Rican, Chicana, and Dominican voices, as well as those whose origins are a blend of more than one background, with expectations of including additional voices and worldviews in future volumes.

Q: Which piece is the most compelling to you personally?

Elizabeth C. Ramírez: Cherríe Moraga, the highly acclaimed feminist and playwright, whose work includes the acclaimed anthology, This Bridge Called My Back, co-edited with Gloria Anzaldúa, and numerous plays, sent us a small piece entitled Waiting for Da’ God.  Here we glimpse this playwright’s seminal concept of the struggles many of us face today.  Moraga gives us a poignant piece that combines humor to tell us about the very difficult issues of aging, children caring and not caring for their elderly parents, and the tragedy of lost love.  The futile waiting for “God,” the son, provides the background for the tantalizing hints of complex relationships that the playwright would later develop into fully fleshed-out characters.  During the entire time that I was working on this collection with Catherine, we were losing my father, and my mother also began her own debility.  With five siblings, the experience was so similar, that is, one son completely devoted to both parents, while the other never coming around.  Hearing my mother’s yearning for the one she can barely even envision anymore is heart-breaking.  Even more so, when it seemed women I encountered everywhere were telling me the same story, “there is one in every family,” was the third sister that has used every excuse imaginable to stay away, yet, just as Cherríe’s mother yearned for “Da’ God,” as her unseen savior who never comes, the devoted daughter stayed with her, caring and comforting her until the end.

There is another play, Milcha Sanchez-Scott’s Roosters, that has had perhaps the most extensive stage life than any play by a Latina and has been extensively anthologized as well.  While some readers of the manuscript questioned its inclusion, we held it in highest esteem because of its significance in the entire repertoire of plays by Latinas.  Both Cherríe and Milcha had been protégés of Maria Irene Fornes, and Irene stands out in this entire history.  When we did not get the rights for Irene’s play, we chose to pay tribute to her by highlighting two outstanding playwrights who had been influenced by her.

Q: What makes a Latina play different from any other playwright’s work?  What’s new about these women?

Elizabeth C. Ramírez: The playwrights in this book show how they have drawn from their own families and friends in their surrounding communities in order to tell us their stories.  Sometimes these stories are filled with humor and often they are very serious, giving us an entryway into their view of the world in which they live.  We are introduced to and often are reacquainted with characters that we may have know about before, like fathers, mothers, family, and friends in our barrios, but they are given broader dimensions than we have seen before.  We view them from the women’s cultural and ethnic perspectives, often crossing national and international borders.

Q: Your collection features topics related to Creating a Performing Voice and themes of family, religion, and community; Chicanas and Chicano theatre and staging identity; the indigenous and staging myth; race matters, searching for “home” and how we get there,” and ending with commentary on Latina Theatre in the U.S.  Why did you choose to organize your book by special topics?

Elizabeth C. Ramírez: Each section delineates the ethnic and cultural roots of the artists that serve as the framework in which their works are situated.  The plays are set against the larger historical or genealogical narrative in which they appear.  Within the individual entries, while we have strived for uniformity, each playwright tells us her story in her own words, and the entries end up quite distinct from each other.

Q: What other features make your book essential reading?  How does your book broaden the annals of American theatre history?

Elizabeth C. Ramírez: We found so much variety in how the playwrights used Spanish and English that we focused more and more on the duality of language.  Thus, we arrived at using both English and Spanish for each subheading, which to us seemed an appropriate way to pay homage to our own long lineage of Spanish-speaking ancestry, bringing into prominence the bond that we held with the playwrights we had worked with for so long for this collection.

We were also privileged to be able to include commentary by Kathy Perkins and Caridad Svich on the status of Latina theatre in the U.S.  Both are highly recognized women who have made great strides in bringing the much needed attention to plays by women of color.  Caridad Svich’s work with NoPassport has been both nationally and internationally influential.  This highly prolific playwright has become a significant force in Latina/Latino theatre for far more than her expansive body of dramatic work as the founder of NoPassport, an unincorporated theatre alliance and press devoted to expression and advocacy for crosscultural diversity and difference in the arts.  Kathy A. Perkins brings an even more diverse perspective, given the groundbreaking collection of plays she co-edited with Roberta Uno, Contemporary Plays by Women of Color: An Anthology (Routledge), and her ever-expanding work in the field and outstanding voice on the topic of women of color.

Q: What excites you the most about this collection and the many years you and Catherine devoted to it?

Elizabeth C. Ramírez: These women just want to make the best art that they can, and they are devoted to their stories, to their family, their culture, and their heritage.  It is just hard work to engage audiences, and they believe in their long lineage of performance and telling their history.  I hope that we have made a difference in bringing their work to others.  They deserve the widest audience possible.  There is little reason to doubt that these Latinas will continue to be productive in their creative work, and for us this volume should serve as a springboard for theatre practitioners and others to broaden their season in terms of world theatre.  Whether we are introducing or re-introducing these works and these artists, it is up to theatre practitioners to reach beyond this volume to the ever-growing body of work by these women.

In the following video, editor Marc Zimmerman discusses the process of writing of Bringing Aztlán to Mexican Chicago.

Amalia Pallares, co-editor of the new book Â¡Marcha! Latino Chicago and the Immigrant Rights Movement, was interviewed July 22, 2010, on WGN-TV’s Midday News.

As I read the essays of my father’s former students I was impressed by the impact that my parents had on their lives. I knew most of the writers of those essays in the book Moving Beyond Borders, while they were students in Julian’s cohort. I attended parties with them, told jokes, studied, argued and grew up among them. I think that I was privileged to know them. It is a treat to read the tributes to Julian and Betty. I am also made aware that my life growing up was unique in the perspective that was afforded me. Being Julian’s son, I was able to joke with him in the way only a son can. I could be irreverent and down to earth when most graduate and undergraduate students were in awe of him. I respected and loved him first as a father and secondly as a scholar. The unique aspects of a parent/child relationship are different from the mentor/student relationship but similar in many areas. I was humbled by the affection that was expressed in the essays and proud of the many students who are vital to the continuing legacy of Julian Samora.

I am aware that until now, not much had been written about Julian’s first book, La Raza; Forgotten Americans. Many of Julian’s former students, Samoristas, as we call ourselves, wrote of their excitement when they discovered the book. It prompted many of them to aspire to follow Julian’s lead into the Academy. Jose Hinojosa, for one, reported in his essay about the number of students that he had stewarded through the process of earning undergraduate and graduate degrees thus emulating the work of his mentor. Julian’s early scholarship engendered in many a desire to study under him.

I purposely chose not to become an academic as I was most interested in quicker results. Being a marriage and family therapist affords me the opportunity to monitor change on a weekly or even daily basis. I prefer the hands on, front line work. This may be the activist in me. I don’t remember my first encounter with Julian Samora as it was soon after the occasion of my birth in mid-August of 1953, the year he earned his Ph.D. from Washington University, St. Louis, MO. I do, however, remember many subsequent encounters and they will be the subject of this essay.

I recall, as an eleven year old, when Julian and Betty first began talking about Julian’s plan to write a book. I believe it was 1964. Julian had a desire to study his people from a two pronged perspective. First, there was little scholarly work being done about the subject at that time and second, he believed that knowledge was power. He believed that if people in decision-making positions understood the situation, policies would change. His purpose was to inform first and influence later from within the system. That stance frustrated many activists and prompted critics to suggest that he could be more effective if he demanded change by confrontation, accusation and notoriety. I remember Julian being as patient with his critics as he was with the system. The impression that I came away with from that encounter was this; I had asked my father if he was a genius because in my immature mind it stood to reason that if you could write a book you must be a genius. He was humored by my question and responded that he was about average in intelligence and that he just worked hard. I look back to the message that was transferred by that encounter; hard work will get you results just like superior intelligence can.

My mother related a story to me about the assistant manager of a local hamburger joint, where my two older brothers and I had all worked; he remarked that my mother had sure taught her sons how to work. My mom was very proud of that fact and I learned that hard work will get you respect just like superior intelligence can. I scoured the oxidation off copper water pipes while flat on my back under the restaurant’s commercial sinks, all for .80 cents per hour. I learned that superior intelligence doesn’t get you out of the responsibility to keep working while on the clock.

As a school boy I often watched my father work on his book. His schedule was to work at the University all day, return around 5:30PM, eat dinner with the family and then retire to his study to work. I learned that I could interrupt him if I had a question related to school-work. In all the years that I asked him for the definition of a word, I never stumped him. The definitions he gave sounded like a verbatim dictionary definition and as I proceeded through high school, college and graduate school I continued to try and stump him. I don’t know if he ever caught on to my game but I learned from these repeated encounters that his superior intelligence came with humility and responsibility. He had a self imposed responsibility to the larger community and a responsibility to his family.

My mother also accepted a responsibility to the larger community and family which explains her willingness to share her husband’s time and effort for the greater good. She and Olga Villa-Parra, along with Concepcion Nino, founded El Campito Daycare Center in the 1960′s. They provided daycare and Head Start pre-school for the children of migrant farm workers. El Campito is in operation to this day. The establishment of the daycare center allowed farm workers to drop out of the migrant stream to study or work in local factories. Migrant farm workers then put down roots and stabilized their families, allowing their children to complete high school. This led some to pursue college and attain the social capital that goes along way towards upward mobility.

Mom dragged us to picket local grocery stores in support of the United Farm Worker’s Union as we boycotted grapes and lettuce in the sixties and seventies. She joined a group of Julian’s graduate students as they picketed in front of and in the Sacred Heart Basilica on campus at Notre Dame. Julian had to practice patience as he watched his wife and graduate students cause trouble on a Sunday, asking for changes to some University policy they thought unfair. Looking back on that time, I owe my mother and father a debt of gratitude. Without their influence I would not have had front line experience in activism.

On a personal level, I remember being called into the house during summer vacation to read for an hour each day. This was after the third grade and I was resentful of the intrusion on my play time. My mother called me inside to read under the guise of cooling off for an hour during the heat of the day. I would repair to the basement which was cool and less humid. Carrying a book and a cold glass of Kool-Aid, I would sit quietly and soon came to enjoy reading. One of my playmates was bold enough to knock on the door and ask for me to come out to play. My mom was crafty and told him that I could play if he brought a book over to read. Before I knew it my three best friends and I would read for an hour in my basement everyday that summer. Looking back I think I must have been in need of remediation. I believe my mom taught me to read and to love reading in one fell swoop. She impressed my friends who from then on thought of me as the ‘smart’ one of the group. I learned that setting an example can lead to respect and that perseverance pays off with greater skills. I can read pretty well to this day!

I remember an encounter with my father regarding education. As a high school senior, I wanted to take a year off from my studies before starting college. Julian was against this. In his tenure as a college professor, he had seen many students take a year off to work with the intention of saving some money and returning later to finish their studies, only to quit their studies and keep working, never to return. My response to his objection was to state that it was my decision about my life, and I wasn’t going to college immediately after graduation. After a pause to collect himself, Julian looked me in the eye and said that he had one obligation to me and that was a college education. And then he said that I owed him one thing, and that was to get a college education. I reluctantly agreed to apply to one college hoping that I wouldn’t get in. To my father’s delight and my chagrin, I was accepted at Notre Dame. Looking back on my experience, I am grateful for a Notre Dame education and the opportunities that have come my way because of it. I learned that obligations fulfilled often end well and that wisdom can spring from difficult differences of opinion.  

On a tougher note, I remember watching my stressed out father arrive home from the University and head straight for the kitchen sink. Under the sink was a bottle of rye whiskey, Kessler’s ‘smooth as silk’. After two double shots he would turn to the family and greet us saying, ‘how was your day?’ I learned early on that he wanted to hear what work I had accomplished, be it school work or household chores. He wasn’t overly interested in my sports participation or my social life. He accepted these distractions from work and understood them to be necessary to balance one’s life. I learned that drinking alcohol was a man’s ritual and that it was an ineffective stress reducer. In fact, mood altering drugs can cause a great deal more problems than they solve; leading to high blood pressure, heart disease and cirrhosis of the liver to name a few. As a grown man, I look back on his repeated struggles with alcohol as evidence that my father was capable of mistakes. He was human and had faults like all of us.

I remember him as a man whose strengths far outweighed his weaknesses. He was a strong but fair disciplinarian who teamed with our mother to raise us. He was a good male role model even though he was raised by his mother and grandmother without much contact with his biological father. As I indicated earlier, I am a Marriage and Family Therapist. I often use anecdotes from my childhood to illustrate to my current clientele how a healthy discipline system should work: parent involvement, a united front, family meal time spent talking with one another not watching television. I emphasize in therapy the importance of teaching children good manners. It goes a long way towards developing and maintaining good mental health. Psychologist, John Reed, in North Carolina, has written on the subject. His research indicates a direct relationship between good manners and happiness.

One of my last encounters with Julian was in Alburquerque, NM, at my sister Carmen’s house. As my family and I gathered to say goodbye we knelt and asked for his blessing. He became emotional as he made the sign of the cross and asked God’s benediction on us. My impression of that encounter was that a life well lived will reap benefits. And that family time is extremely valuable especially when one’s family endured time apart for the benefit of others.

A colleague of mine spoke about the resentment he experienced at his physician father’s funeral. Hundreds of his father’s former patients crowded out the family and close friends. He reported that this was a microcosm of his experience growing up. His father’s life was not his own in many ways. He recalled his mother being the one he turned to in times of need. His father’s patients always came first. I remember Dad’s funeral and thinking that I didn’t want to share him with La Raza any longer. I quickly reconsidered that stance when his obituary was printed in newspapers around the country. Major papers in New York City, Washington DC, Chicago, San Francisco, Denver, Dallas, Los Angeles and other cities announced his death and catalogued his achievements. I was startled by the coverage. I hadn’t realized the impact he had made over the years. In retrospect, the impression made by that indirect encounter keeps me in awe of the achievements that a poor kid from Pagosa Springs, CO accomplished against tough odds.