One of Elizabeth "Betita" Martinez's earliest memories
is of boarding a bus
with her father in her hometown of Washington, D.C., and being told by
the
driver to sit in the back of the bus.
For Martinez, who is of Oaxacan ancestry, that
experience left an indelible
memory. Although only 6 years old, she remembers, "I knew something was
wrong."
As a result of her early awareness of racial inequality
she forged a close
bond, later in life, with the African American civil rights movement.
Later
as a writer and teacher and the author of "500 Years of Chicano
History," she
became an important voice in the Chicano movement and an important link
between both struggles.
In the 1950s, while working as a researcher for the
United Nations, she was
inspired by the great social movements for justice around the world.
Then in 1963, when four little girls were killed by a
Klan bomb in
Birmingham, Alabama, Martinez felt another deep emotional surge. "I was
enraged." From 1960 until that moment, she had been collaborating with
the
Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC), one of the principal
groups
involved in sit-ins at lunch counters and voter education in efforts to
desegregate the South. Now she joined the organization as a full-time
staff
member.
In the Freedom Summer of 1964, shortly after the bodies
of three murdered
civil rights workers were found in a dam, Martinez recalls driving
through
the Mississippi Delta at twilight, thinking that the place was "stained
with
so much blood of so many black people who just tried to register people
to
vote."
It was a time when fear begat fearlessness in people
like Martinez, when
civil rights workers witnessed the burial of many freedom fighters.
After that intense summer, Martinez became the director
of the New York
office of SNCC. She and fellow civil rights activist, Maria Varela,
were the
only Chicanas in a black movement with many white supporters.
Martinez's
main role at this time was to raise funds and to alert the media
whenever
people were arrested or jailed, reasoning that press coverage "might
keep
someone alive."
In 1965, Cesar and Helen Chavez and Dolores Huerta led
an historic march of
thousands of farmworkers from Delano to Sacramento, Calif. SNCC sent
Martinez, who had been weaned on her father's stories about having seen
Emiliano Zapata during the Mexican Revolution, to deliver a speech in
solidarity with the United Farm Workers of America. For someone raised
on
the East Coast, she remembers how invigorating it was to be entirely
among
people who shared her own roots.
In 1966, aware of the uneasy race relations within the
civil rights movement
she wrote an article titled "Neither Black or White." Even back then,
she
identified a problem that Latinos today still observe: when it comes to
the
national discourse regarding racial issues in the United States,
Latinos
don't matter.
In 1968, she moved to Albuquerque to connect with the
Chicano movement,
specifically to support the land struggle of the Alianza Federal de
Pueblos
Libres (National Alliance of free Pueblos) in New Mexico. There,
Martinez's
mission was to help found the newspaper, "El Grito del Norte (The Cry
of the
North)." "I went for two weeks," she says, "and I stayed for eight
years." El Grito went on to become one of the principal voices of the
Chicano
movement.
Before Martin Luther King, Jr's assassination in 1968,
the farmworker's
movement had also won the support of King. "The Chicano movement was
indigenous to the Southwest [and Midwest], but it was definitely
stimulated
by the black civil rights movement," says Martinez.
In 1973, Martinez, along with many Chicano supporters,
went to the siege at
Wounded Knee, South Dakota, in support of the American Indian Movement.
Dozens of AIM activists, along with local Oglala Sioux people, took
over
some buildings in the Pine Ridge reservation town, to draw attention to
Indian grievances. During the siege, hundreds of federal agents, using
military equipment, surrounded the protesters and the two sides
exchanged
gunfire.
Unlike the original siege of Wounded Knee in 1890,
which resulted in the
massacre of hundreds of Indians, the modern military siege ended
peaceably.
However, federal agents harassed AIM activists for many years to
follow.
These movements were happening during a time when
people's movements around
the world were forcing dictators from power. "It was inspiring," says
Martinez. But eventually, all the major protest movements were
debilitated
if not destroyed--some because of internal strife--but principally
because of
government infiltration.
In April, PBS will air a new documentary, "Chicano!"
which focuses on the
Chicano movement from 1965-1975. Martinez, who now lives in the San
Francisco Bay Area, says that, unlike many, she does not believe that
the
movement died. The recent struggle against California's anti-immigrant
Proposition 187 and the current fight to defend affirmative action
prove
that.
Martinez, along with author Elena Featherston, is
currently on a national
"Black & Brown-Get Down" speaking tour. Their message, she says, is
"building black/brown alliances in an age of divide and conquer."
The message isn't just for African Americans and
Latinos, says Martinez, but
for everyone. One of the main lessons she has learned in life since
that
early bus ride is that you can't fight racism alone.
These
Articles are Reproduced with Permission from the Authors.
Compiled
by: Glenn Welker
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