Diversity: Rejecting the Old Rules by Resisting the New Ones


I got my first taste of L-O-V-E in 1995. Grapes of Wrath stole my sixteen-year-old California-girl heart. I was like, “You go, depression-era workers!” In their honor, I turned my back on land-owning cheats, even ones still alive. It wasn’t hard. Growers were white and old and grumpy. Field workers—mostly Hispanic—had Maná and La Macarena on their side. I was down, ese’. I was even enrolled in Spanish III. I felt awesome for three seconds.
Then realized I was the granddaughter of a white, land-owning California grower.
My white-haired grandpa gave me thumbs-up during most of my tennis matches and already had the cancer that would kill him. He wanted to live to see me get married. He would make it. Barely.
I didn’t simply feel dumb for my thoughts. A part of my childhood–the black-and-white part–died.
White growers were bad. Grandpa was a grower. Grandpa wasn’t bad.
It turned out Grandpa’s father was raising cattle during the depression and sneaked into the prosperity of the WWII era with only a quarter of his land, selling off the rest to feed three generations.
I was relieved. That was the answer, right? My family fell into the “good” side of a desperate struggle in a desperate time because they lived in relative poverty.

Read the entire article in the May 2019 issue of InD'Tale magazine.

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