struggling to find the right words. “No, ma’am, it can’t be true. I don’t know how to explain it. But,
it’s… it’s just not the way things are.”
“Manolo, long ago, a wise person said, ‘Time makes more converts than reason.’ Hispanics in America have come to accept the
way things are, not because they’re fair or just, but because it’s the way things have been for a very long time.”
“That sounds anti-American.”
“The man who said this was Thomas Paine, one of the patriots of the American Revolution… although the Tories considered him
a traitorous rabble-rouser.”
Stymied by her answer, Mano tried another argument. “What you’re proposing isn’t legal, ma’am. You can’t just barge in and
take away people’s property.”
“Do you think the Anglos did anything different? The ground you’re standing on belonged to Hispanic settlers when your great-grandfather
was alive. The gabachos didn’t ask permission to come here. They swarmed over the land and overran the locals by sheer numbers.
And the Anglo takeover didn’t just happen in California. The first illegal immigrants in Texas came from Tennessee.”
“Why haven’t I heard this before?”
“The history they teach in American schools glosses over the fact that most Anglo families in Texas were uninvited squatters.
The Anglos not only grabbed up Mexican land, they refused to pay taxes on it. That’s why General Santa Anna marched his army
to a place called the Alamo—to evict the illegal immigrants.”
“No matter how we got the land, there’s no other country on earth where people are as free as the United States.”
“That’s true, Manolo,” Jo agreed. “But did you know that England was the most progressive nation in Europe at the time of
the American Revolution? No other monarchy had an active parliament and a Magna Carta protecting the rights of its citizens.
Yet all those privileges didn’t stop the American colonists from asserting their independence.” Jo paused, letting her words
sink in. “Do you think our cause seems any less justified than that of the American colonists?”
Mano knew he was outmatched in a debate with Jo. His strongest argument came from the gut, and it told him her ideas were
dangerous. “I don’t have your education, ma’am. But I still believe you’re wrong,” he said tersely.
“I realize I’m not going to change your views, Manolo,” she said gently. “I can see you find Marcha’s ideas difficult to accept.”
“I think they border on treason.”
“Surely you agree that people have the right of free speech in this country.”
“Treason is not protected by any rights, ma’am.”
Jo reached for the
Justicia
pamphlet he was holding, gently cradling his hand in her own. “Look at this, Manolo,” she said, pointing to the back cover.
“The works of José Antonio Marcha are registered with the Library of Congress. If there was anything illegal in his writings,
I wouldn’t be allowed to publish them.”
The warm softness of her hand left him speechless for a moment. “I… see your point,” he finally managed to say.
“So you agree this document does not break any laws?”
“Apparently not.”
“That’s good to hear. From what I know about you, I can’t imagine you’d work for an organization that did something illegal,”
she said with a soft smile.
Mano’s throat tightened. Talk of ending his job was territory he did not want to cross.
Without waiting for an answer, Jo continued. “Manolo, I realize Marcha’s ideas seem strange to you. But you should know there
are a lot of others who share them—and I have a suggestion that may help. There’s a community rally next Saturday at Salazar
Park. Why don’t you come and listen to the speakers? After that, if you feel that working here compromises your principles,
you can quit. What do you say?”
“Look, ma’am, I’m starting to think there won’t be a job
it’s… it’s just not the way things are.”
“Manolo, long ago, a wise person said, ‘Time makes more converts than reason.’ Hispanics in America have come to accept the
way things are, not because they’re fair or just, but because it’s the way things have been for a very long time.”
“That sounds anti-American.”
“The man who said this was Thomas Paine, one of the patriots of the American Revolution… although the Tories considered him
a traitorous rabble-rouser.”
Stymied by her answer, Mano tried another argument. “What you’re proposing isn’t legal, ma’am. You can’t just barge in and
take away people’s property.”
“Do you think the Anglos did anything different? The ground you’re standing on belonged to Hispanic settlers when your great-grandfather
was alive. The gabachos didn’t ask permission to come here. They swarmed over the land and overran the locals by sheer numbers.
And the Anglo takeover didn’t just happen in California. The first illegal immigrants in Texas came from Tennessee.”
“Why haven’t I heard this before?”
“The history they teach in American schools glosses over the fact that most Anglo families in Texas were uninvited squatters.
The Anglos not only grabbed up Mexican land, they refused to pay taxes on it. That’s why General Santa Anna marched his army
to a place called the Alamo—to evict the illegal immigrants.”
“No matter how we got the land, there’s no other country on earth where people are as free as the United States.”
“That’s true, Manolo,” Jo agreed. “But did you know that England was the most progressive nation in Europe at the time of
the American Revolution? No other monarchy had an active parliament and a Magna Carta protecting the rights of its citizens.
Yet all those privileges didn’t stop the American colonists from asserting their independence.” Jo paused, letting her words
sink in. “Do you think our cause seems any less justified than that of the American colonists?”
Mano knew he was outmatched in a debate with Jo. His strongest argument came from the gut, and it told him her ideas were
dangerous. “I don’t have your education, ma’am. But I still believe you’re wrong,” he said tersely.
“I realize I’m not going to change your views, Manolo,” she said gently. “I can see you find Marcha’s ideas difficult to accept.”
“I think they border on treason.”
“Surely you agree that people have the right of free speech in this country.”
“Treason is not protected by any rights, ma’am.”
Jo reached for the
Justicia
pamphlet he was holding, gently cradling his hand in her own. “Look at this, Manolo,” she said, pointing to the back cover.
“The works of José Antonio Marcha are registered with the Library of Congress. If there was anything illegal in his writings,
I wouldn’t be allowed to publish them.”
The warm softness of her hand left him speechless for a moment. “I… see your point,” he finally managed to say.
“So you agree this document does not break any laws?”
“Apparently not.”
“That’s good to hear. From what I know about you, I can’t imagine you’d work for an organization that did something illegal,”
she said with a soft smile.
Mano’s throat tightened. Talk of ending his job was territory he did not want to cross.
Without waiting for an answer, Jo continued. “Manolo, I realize Marcha’s ideas seem strange to you. But you should know there
are a lot of others who share them—and I have a suggestion that may help. There’s a community rally next Saturday at Salazar
Park. Why don’t you come and listen to the speakers? After that, if you feel that working here compromises your principles,
you can quit. What do you say?”
“Look, ma’am, I’m starting to think there won’t be a job
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