“You have a moral obligation, a mission and a mandate, to speak up, speak out, and get in good trouble. — Congressman John Lewis Last month, one Saturday afternoon, we celebrated the life of an amazingly talented civil rights lawyer and all around good human being, Joaquin Avila. This was in Watsonville, California, at a community center located in a Mexican-American neighborhood, The next morning I boarded a flight to San Antonio, Texas and that evening I was at a funeral home paying tribute to another remarkable friend, Roy Robbins, whom I’d known even longer than Joaquin. A common thread emerged: these were men who made good trouble, and as we mourned their passing we celebrated two lives well lived. Joaquin Avila I met Joaquin Avila in 1980 when I was hired to work at the National Office of the Mexican American Legal Defense and Educational Fund (MALDEF) then located in San Francisco. Thirty years ago, Joaquin was already a renowned leader in the voting rights field. As a young attorney I was to split my time between voting rights and education cases; eventually my focus turned to education law but my relationship with Joaquin as colleague and friend continued. Speakers recounted the many ways their own lives, and those of their communities, were shaped by Joaquin’s work as one of the nation’s top voting rights lawyers. Lawyers and activists came to Watsonville from the agricultural valleys of the Golden State, the Bay Area, the Pacific Northwest, and as far away as Mississippi. Speakers reminded us of the many ways and in the many places (Utah, yes Utah) where Joaquin’s work had shaped the political landscape of this country. Joaquin was the recipient of the prestigious MacArthur Fellowship (known to the world as the MacArthur Genius Award) in 1996. He had served as President and General Counsel of MALDEF. His cases had been argued (by him) in highest court in the land, the United States Supreme Court. Beyond those notable accomplishment, we also heard about his engagement and support of Mexican-American small business owners, farmworkers, union organizers, school teachers, and members of LULAC chapters. These people knew that without political representation in every governing entity (school boards, city councils, and state and federal legislatures) our communities would continue to be denied the opportunities to develop to our fullest potential. Many of the speakers, most of them Latinxs, are the products of the successes recounted on the yellowed newspaper clippings on the community center’s bulletin board’s about Joaquin’s legal victories in the Salinas Valley and elsewhere. We recalled Joaquin’s humility, kindness, patience, and persistent unwillingness to give up, even as the US Supreme Court guts the protections afforded disenfranchised communities. The warm remembrances, and the smiling photographs of Joaquin helped me recall his infectious laugh, and gave us the chance to give thanks for this mighty champion. Joaquin did all this work at great financial sacrifice to himself and his family. The legal battles he pursued are expensive to investigate, cue up, bring to trial, and to sustain as they wend their way through lengthy appeals. But the fruits of his labors are everywhere. Remember him next time you go to the polls. Joaquin Avila, PRESENTE. Roy Robbins The following day I flew to San Antonio to attend funeral services for Roy Robbins, married 40+ years to Margaret Guzman Robbins, a good friend since our college days. I sat quietly and peacefully on a wooden pew in a funeral home’s chapel, as people of varying ages (many millennials) offered condolences, then approached the open casket, knelt, and paid their respects. The evening ended with the recitation of the Holy Rosary. All this was so familiar, the ritual of funerals I attended during my childhood in South Texas. Still there was some cognitive dissonance: the person we were mourning in this very Mexican-American ritual was an Anglo. Roy Robbins was born and raised in The Rio Grande Valley of South Texas where throughout his (and my) childhood Anglos ruled and Mexican-Americans were considered inferior. Back then, kids from these two groups rarely interacted with each other. But Roy made friends with Mexican-American kids and rejected these messages of white supremacy. He cared deeply about fairness and justice, and responding to his first calling he became a Methodist Minister. As a Minister he was active in making good trouble by participating in the integration of white churches in the Deep South. But he left the ministry and began working on economic development programs established during President Lyndon Johnson’s War on Poverty, which eventually led him to pursue a degree in economics and to his career as a Professor of Economics at St. Mary’s University. It took Roy several decades to earn his PhD, as working full-time teaching, mentoring students, illness, and life events, made it difficult to get that dissertation completed. On my trips to South Texas, Roy and Margaret were the friends who always picked me up at the San Antonio Airport and immediately delivered me to a favorite Tex-Mex restaurant before dropping me off at the home of a family member. Last year they called with great excitement to tell me that one of his brightest students had been accepted into UC Berkeley’s PhD Program in Economics. As Monica knew no one in the Bay Area, they wanted to connect the young Latina to someone with Bay Area roots. They knew I'd be interested in meeting her, and it’s been an absolute pleasure to know this exceptional young woman. I met several of Professor Robbins’ students, as they called themselves, the evening of the Visitation and Rosary and the next day at the Reception that followed the Funeral Mass. These former students came from Dallas, Michigan, Houston (and places in between) to express their gratitude for the support they had gotten over the years from both Roy and Margaret. Their stories of Roy’s generosity towards his students were unknown to me, but they did not surprise me: paid DACA fees for young Dreamers, bought textbooks to students in need, and gave most generously of his time and attention. The only speaker at the Funeral Mass was their daughter Jenny, who knew firsthand her father’s love for teaching and his students and his steadfast belief in equality even when it meant bucking tradition. “He raised me to know that he would never give me away at my wedding. But it wasn’t because of sentimental or protective reasons; it was because he wouldn’t participate in anything that made it look like I was his property to give away.” Near and dear to my heart, Roy was always encouraging students to be proud of their ethnic heritage, and stressing the importance of pronouncing their names correctly and including accents and tildes or whatever other diacritical marks their names might have. Roy Robbins made good trouble challenging students, taking them outside of their comfort zone and helped shape the lives of many young people, the vast majority of them first generation Latinx college students whom he would see graduate and begin careers doing meaningful work, and in some instances pursuing advanced degrees. Last year, two of those grateful students -- who met at St. Mary’s and later married -- endowed the Roy Robbins Professorship in Economics with a one million dollar gift to the University. The couple, who went on to earn advanced degrees, returned to Mexico where they are successful entrepreneurs. In establishing the fellowship, one of the donors, Marisol Arteaga Gonzalez, echoed the words of other students I met. “Dr. Robbins has left a mark both in my personal life and in my professional career. He has been a mentor who motivates me to believe in myself and to strive for what is right. I think the most important thing I have learned from him is to love the subject of economics – a great instrument that can be used to help achieve a better society.” Roy Robbins, PRESENTE. The picture above is a tapestry in The Guadalupe Chapel at St. Mary's University in San Antonio. My alma mater has an undergraduate student body that is 85% people of color, 70% Latinx. #socialjustice #votingrights #discrimination #Latinx #MALDEF #StMarysUniversity

The process of revising my one-woman show for a run this fall at the San Francisco Marsh Theater is both exciting and challenging. (I'll announce dates as soon as they get finalized). It’s hard to let go of a scene or even a small part of a scene; I do become attached to my lines. Still, as I put the material on its feet and rehearse with my director, I can feel when something no longer works. I look at her and she looks at me. “But I really like this, Rebecca, and it’s important.” “Yes, it is both those things, but it doesn’t work here.” Darn. This can happen for any number of reasons: when the sequence of scenes is rearranged or new vignettes introduced the flow of the story may becomes awkward, the material tangential, and sometimes it feels like I’m beating a dead horse. (Jeez, I’m struck at how awful this expression is, who would beat a horse to death and then keep beating it? The origin of that expression requires some research, but speaking of tangents, I’ll let this go for now). The consolation prize for taking out this material is that I can share snippets of script and provide some backstory in blogs. Here’s a now deleted scene. Scene Outtake I’m watching the news one evening. News Anchor: Today in Sacramento, California Attorney General Ex-avier Becerra announced . . . Me: (yelling at the TV) EX-avier Becerra! That is NOT his name. It’s HA-vier. How can you NOT know how to say the name of California’s Attorney General? Dude’s in the news all the time, suing the Trump Administration. And where the hell are the news editors? They would never let someone mispronounce a French name. But Spanish names, doesn’t matter. Would this happen if they were Latinxs in the newsroom? Annoyed with the news anchor’s pronunciation, I google the station’s website, and find her email address. I write a snarky email, and then delete it. Take Two. Dear Ms. Anchor, please note that the California Attorney General pronounces his name Ha-vier. I spell it phonetically, it’s Ha-vier not EX-avier. Please call me if you need assistance with this pronunciation. Think of me as your personal Name Whisperer. Sincerely, Irma Herrera. I attach a digital name card that allows the anchor to hear the correct pronunciation of my name (should she choose to do so) by simply clicking on a link. An hour later I receive a very nice email from the anchor thanking me for bringing this to her attention. She wants to get it right. End Scene Outtake I am really annoyed when I hear newscasters mispronounce Spanish names, because I know they take great attention to pronounce French names correctly. Aren't we entitled to the same level of respect? In fact, EVERYone is. As to the Attorney General's name perhaps I feel protective because I first met Xavier when he was a Stanford Law Student and he spent the summer working as a law clerk at the Mexican American Legal Defense and Educational Fund's National Office in San Francisco where I worked as a lawyer. I have followed his career with interest from afar: after law school he worked as a legal aid lawyer and then public service, eventually serving in the United States Congress representing the people of Central Los Angeles for 20+ years. I have great respect for his intellect, his decency, and his humanity so I was very pleased when Governor Jerry Brown’s nominated Becerra to serve the remaining term vacated by Kamala Harris' election to the United States Senate. Attorney General Becerra is running for the post he currently holds in the upcoming election. The lesson in this exchange with the news anchor was simple, the incorrect pronunciation of his name was nothing more than she just didn’t know, and she willingly and gladly accepted the information I provided her. Yes, we could argue that she or someone at the station SHOULD have known the correct pronunciation, but you don’t know what you don’t know. You know the motto See Something, Say Something, well it’s equally applicable to our names. Unless we speak up when folks get it wrong it will never be corrected. Unfortunately it is not uncommon that people will avoid saying your name if they fear mispronouncing it. Those of us with “challenging” names appreciate that folks make the effort and we also understand that folks aren’t always going to get someone’s name exactly right. After all we too struggle with names that are difficult. My mother had a very hard time with Jennifer, always reverting to Yen-i-fer. And I kept prodding her. It used to bug me when the news media referred to Tom Perez, former Secretary of Labor, now Chair of the Democratic National Committee, as Tom Purr-es. The correct Spanish pronunciation of the last name Pérez is pretty similar in sounds to the English last name, Pettus. So if you can say Pettus you can say Perez. But then I learned that this is how Tom Perez pronounces his name Purr-es, so I defer to his preferred pronunciation. I admit that it still irks me a bit, and as to anyone else with that last name, unless I know otherwise, I opt for the Spanish pronunciation. So I get how confusing it can be. The best guide to the pronunciation of someone’s name is to ask the person to tell you (yes sometimes repeatedly) and ask for their help if you find it difficult to say their name. A friend whose first name is Paven is often called Pave-en, Pah-VEN, Pah-VON. He offers a simple and memorable tip -- it’s like “oven” with a “p” in front, Poven. Easy peasy. Today technology allows us to tell the world how we pronounce our names. I’m partial to Name-Coach (https://cloud.name-coach.com/) which allows you to record your own name and to include it as part of your closing signature or in social media. I’m looking forward to interviewing the founder of this company, Praveen Shanbhag, for a future blog. He created the software after attending his sister’s college graduation and hearing her name mispronounced so badly as to make it unrecognizable. This software is now being widely used by K-12 schools and universities to help teachers with the names of their students, and at commencement ceremonies. Of course it has many more uses than that. Check it out. In closing, my thanks to all of you for reading my blog, and for sending me stories, articles, quotes about names. A name is a reminder of where you’re from; it’s also a reminder of your parents’ hopes for you in this world. — Francisco Cantu, author, The Line Becomes a River More about Francisco Cantu and his writing at: https://franciscocantu.us/ “Call him Voldemort, Harry. Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself.” ― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone give your daughters difficult names. give your daughters names that command the full use of tongue. my name makes you want to tell me the truth. my name doesn’t allow me to trust anyone that cannot pronounce it right. — Warsen Shire, Named in 2013 as London’s First Young Poet Laureate Read more about Warsen Shire at: http://www.bbc.com/news/uk-england-london-24375551 #LanguageStatus #TellMeYourName #civilrights

Welcome to The Cancer Café: A Journey From Diagnosis Through Stem Cell Transplant, written and performed by Judith Dambowic. At age 58, Judith Dambowic was diagnosed with Multiple Myeloma, an incurable blood cancer with no clear and accepted treatment path and a limited life expectancy. Judith who worked in the medical field as a physical therapist is no longer the medical provider. She is now the patient and enters a community shared only by others faced with similar dilemmas and choices. I met Judith some years back on a four-day whale-watching trip in Baja California organized by mutual friends. A group of 20 nature-loving women with backgrounds in law, medicine, education, and the non-profit sector, camped at an eco-lodge along the shores of San Ignacio Lagoon in Baja California. Although our ages ranged from 20s to 70s we greatly enjoyed getting to know each other and playing some spirited games of Scrabble, Bananagram, and Quiddler. Both the kinship and the whales were magnificent. Through our mutual friends, I heard of Judith’s multiple myeloma diagnosis and subsequent stem-cell transplant. A reminder of life’s fragility. I don’t know a single family who hasn’t been personally affected by cancer. I was pleased to learn that Judith was doing well and studying with David Ford, the esteemed dean of the Bay Area solo performance scene (so named by the SF Chronicle’s Theatre Critic). I too got my start in the world of solo performance by taking classes with David Ford and he directed my first one-woman show, Tell Me Your Name. I saw an early installment of The Cancer Café and I was so moved by Judith’s story. Her perspective and experiences (besides being good theater) are educational tools which have much to teach us about illness, wellness, and the importance of community and faith, when we in crisis in the face of illness and loss. Don’t miss it. Both performances are fundraisers to support worth causes. Following each show, Judith will have an on-stage discussion with her partner Rabbi Chaya Gusfield, Palliative Care Chaplain. Saturday, May 12, 7 pm Beth Chaim Congregation 1800 Holbrook Drive Danville, CA Suggested donation of $18, cash or check. Thursday, May 17, 7:30 pm Kehilla Community Synagogue 1300 Grand Avenue Piedmont, CA Suggested donation of $20, cash or check. Tickets available at the door. I've worked for 30 years with people who are writing and performing their own stories. In that time I've heard a lot of people give witness to the trials of having a life threatening disease. Judith Dambowic goes further than anyone I've encountered. She gets the awful contrasts of fear and courage, agency and impotence, armor and vulnerability.” -- David Ford, the "dean of solo performance” More information about Judith's show at https://www.facebook.com/events/362320200938278/

I just finished Luis Alberto Urrea’s magnificent novel, The House of Broken Angels. The book is beautifully read on Audible by the author. It touches mi alma y mi corazón to hear the characters' names and many other Spanish words said in ways that are familiar. Listening to Urrea’s pronunciation of his own name reminded of how often the common and beautiful Spanish first name, Luis, is mispronounced. Many folks say it as two syllables, Lou-ease. My family says I have thousands of pet peeves, and this is one of them. It’s quite possible that folks who say the name are not aware they are mispronouncing it. Here’s how to test yourself: say Luis, out loud. If it sounds like the woman’s name Louise, then you could use a wee bit of coaching, which I happily offer free of charge. Think of me as your personal Name Whisperer. NERD ALERT: first, some background about sounds. Beyond having an absolute love of language and its many quirks, I was a teaching assistant at University of Notre Dame, Department of Modern Languages, that’s how I how I put myself through law school. In that capacity I had to learn a little bit about phonetics along with various tips for helping people learn to say Spanish words. Luis is pronounced as one syllable, because the “ui” is a diphthong. That’s just a fancy word to describe a combination of vowels that blend together and make one sound. A couple of examples of diphthongs in English words: “oi” in the word toilet, pronounced as one sound “oy.” We don’t say to-i-let. Then there’s book, the “oo” has a long single u sound, it is not boo-ook. You can learn more about diphthongs here: https://www.ebcteflcourse.com/english-diphthongs/ One last tip to help with the pronunciation of Luis. Think of the word oui, yes, the French word for yes. Even if we’ve never studied French, somehow all of us know that oui is one sound: we. We don’t say ou-we. That combination of vowels blend together to make one sound, just like the ui in Luis. So put an "L" before saying the French “oui” and add an "s". Voilá that will give you the proper pronunciation of Luis. Surprise your friend Luis next time you see him by saying his name correctly. Now back to The House of Broken Angels. In an article that appeared in the Chicago Tribune, Urrea was called "the literary conscience of the border.” The book is rich with history and captures so accurately the experience of being treated as outsiders regardless of the fact that as mestizos, (descendants of the mixing of Indigenous and Spanish peoples) our ties to America, los Estados Unidos, is centuries old. Check out this story and the video where you can hear Luis Urrea’s great storyteller’s voice, http://www.chicagotribune.com/lifestyles/books/ct-ent-luis-urrea-0311-story.html. It pleases me to no end to see our stories on the page and on the stage depicting us not as stereotypes, but as real life human beings with all the complexities and contradictions that live within all of us. Many of us grew up reading books devoid of characters who bore any resemblance to us. Slowly but surely the landscape of American literature is growing more inclusive, not just of Latinxs, it also reflects the racial and ethnic diversity that is America. Do you have a mispronunciation pet peeve related to a person’s name? Please send it along.

“Your play reminded me of two stories that have stayed with me throughout my life. Both happened when I was 14." This is from an email I got earlier this month from Rose, after she and a friend saw my mini-show at Marsh Madness weekend in San Francisco: "My Mexican cousin Blanca came to stay with us to spend a year learning English. She was enrolled in school and the first thing her teacher did was scoff at calling her Blanca and announced she would now be Blanche. I remember we didn't quite know what to do about that and had various reactions. My mother, like most familias Latinas, never challenged the teacher's authority, I thought the name Blanche hysterical and Blanca was conflicted between having an ‘American’ name and losing her identity. Back in Mexicali, Blanca's best friend Osvelia, a light-skinned, blue-eyed, dark-haired beauty had her own name experience when she visited the US for the first time. Some teenage boys approached her and started calling her Maria. My name is not Maria. Why do you call me that? All the Mexican girls we know are named Maria. Well my name is Os-ve-li-a, she said pronouncing her name with deliberate emphasis. Aw, that's too hard to say, we'll just call you Maria." Many people in the United States, prefer to Anglicize the pronunciation of any name they consider . . . hmmm, how to say this . . . not a ‘real American’ name. Ir-ma becomes UR-ma, and when I offer assistance to help someone pronounce it correctly, I might be asked, can I call you something else? And so it is that Yesenia becomes Yesi, and Blanca becomes Blanche (which ironically enough is a French name). The Blanca/Blanche email came just days after the death of renowned French fashion designer, Hubert de Givenchy. (Stay with me people, there’s a connection). I listened closely to the news, knowing that the newscasters would do a pretty good job with his name. They did NOT call him HUE-bert dee GIVEN-shee. Instead, they honored the correct and elegant French pronunciation – Ou-behr duh Gee-von-she. Good on them. Pronouncing French names correctly (or well enough) presents us as well-educated, sophisticated, worldly. And if you are in the news business, your editors want you to look smart and credible. I just wish they did that for other people’s ‘foreign’ names. Such attention is not typically given to Spanish names. Au contraire, mes amis! Several years ago, Vanessa Ruiz, who grew up speaking both English and Spanish, secured a coveted anchor spot on a Phoenix news station, and was harshly criticized for correctly pronouncing Spanish words on air. The story made it to the NY Times, https://www.nytimes.com/2015/09/04/us/latina-arizona-news-anchor-vanessa-ruiz-spanish-pronunciation.html Recently, I was watching the evening news on KRON. News Anchor: Today in Sacramento, California Attorney General EX-avier Becerra announced blah, blah, blah. I didn’t hear the rest of the story I was so distracted by the mispronunciation of the AG’s name. I wrote an email to the anchor telling her that the Attorney General pronounces his name HA-vier, not EX-avier. To my pleasant surprise she responded within the hour thanking me for bringing this to her attention, she wants to get it right. At the station, she tells me, she helps others with pronunciation of names of foreign leaders. We should not hesitate to offer guidance when someone does not know how to say our names. Whether someone makes the effort to get it right is on them. Have you had similar encounters? I’d love to hear about them. #LanguageStatus #Latinx #discrimination #prejudice

A Tejano friend shared this story with me in response to a blog I posted some months ago. CH: “Hello, my name is Candelario Huerta.” New Person (NP): “Oh, I don’t speak Spanish.” CH: “That’s OK, I’m just telling you my name.” NP: “Can I call you something else?” CH: “No.” So many of you have shared your name stories with me, and it's been a privilege to hear them. Some stories are finding their way into my performances, and others will be in a companion book to my one-woman show, Why Would I Mispronounce My Own Name? I'll be using them with your permission, of course. Candelario's story is in my new mini-show, Your Name is WHAT? Gracias, compañero. A Brown And A White Mexican Take The Stage! A proud and righteous Chicana and a White Mexican get you to thinking..."what makes us who we are?" Theresa Donahoe's "Confessions of a White Mexican" and my piece,"Your Name is WHAT?" provide insights into the assumptions we make about others based on our perceptions of who they are and where they fit into society's pecking order. You'll CRINGE and LAUGH and leave a tad bit more enlightened and informed. I’ll be presenting this new material at the Marsh Madness Festival in San Francisco Saturday, March 10 at 1 pm (yes that’s 1 pm!) If you live in the SF Bay Area come on out and support Theresa and me. Gracias!! Buy your tickets $10 at the door or you can also get them on-line $12 (service fees and guarantees against a sell-out crowd. We should be so lucky) https://themarsh.org/civicrm/?page=CiviCRM&q=civicrm/event/register&reset=1&id=2288 Please keep those name stories coming. And remember, you don't have to be Latinx, African American, Asian . . . or from any particular group to have an interesting name story.

Growing up in rural South Texas, I traveled the world through the books I checked out at the Alice Public Library. Back then I knew in my heart of hearts that someday I would visit those faraway places. I was already in my 20s the first time I set foot on an airplane, and although I don’t enjoy flying, I gladly get on airplanes several times a year because within a few hours of boarding I reconnect with family and friends, and I know that new and amazing experiences await me. I realized early on that travel nourished my heart and soul, and squirreling away funds for this purpose has been a priority my entire adult life. I’ve been out of the country much of the past three months: Six weeks in Cuba, and most recently two weeks in Tanzania. Ernest Hemingway wrote about these places with great love and affection, and it is easy to see why. The people are warm and welcoming and natural beauty abounds. Although I’ve visited both these countries previously these new visits brought additional discoveries. The wildlife in the Serengeti and Ngorogoro Crater is spectacular: we saw and shot (pictures of) elephants, zebras, giraffes, lions, gazelles, cheetahs, baboons, hippos and even the rarely seen black rhinos. And although I’m not a birder, the variety of birds is astounding. Learned so much about nature and the adaptations created by environmental conditions. Saw bits and pieces of the great migration of wildebeests, zebras and gazelles. The sunsets and sunrises are breathtaking. If you’ve ever considered taking a photo safari, do yourself the favor of making it happen. It is not a relaxing vacation, it is exhausting adventure travel, and so well worth the effort. These memories will be with you the rest of your life. On a name related note, it was interesting that Swahili-speaking Tanzanians and Dutch-speaking folks from the Netherlands said Irma beautifully without any hesitation and needed no coaching. Although there are Irma's in The Netherlands, no Tanzanians knew anyone from their country who had that name. The final leg of this journey was a visit to Amsterdam (my first time here). In spite of the bitter cold I am charmed by its beauty and the ingenuity that keeps this city intact in spite of it being below sea level. The city teems with creativity and art; its residents among the most polite and considerate people I’ve ever encountered. I was offered a seat in every crowded tram I rode, which I politely declined. It’s now time to return to my other great passion: storytelling. I am looking forward to a very active year of performing with fellow storytellers as part of The Marsh Theater’s Times Unseen Project and in my one-woman show, Why Would I Mispronounce My Own Name? Details to follow in later posts. And super excited to join forces with Theresa Donahoe in A Brown and A White Mexican Share the Stage in Marsh Madness Weekend in San Francisco’s Marsh Theatre on Saturday, March 10th at 1 pm. In back to back 20-minute segments Theresa performs a 20-minute excerpt from her play, Confessions of a White Mexican, and I will debut new material in a stand-alone piece, Your Name is What? Look forward to seeing my Bay Area friends at the San Francisco Marsh Theatre on Saturday, March 10 at 1 pm. Tickets at the door ($10) or you can guarantee yourself a seat by purchasing tickets online ($12) at: https://themarsh.org/civicrm/?page=CiviCRM&q=civicrm/event/register&reset=1&id=2288

A friend mentioned that she must have fallen off my mailing list -- she hadn’t gotten my blog in some time. Wow, I had not sent anything out for three months. In late November I went to Havana and returned home in mid-January. I had amazing experiences there and getting on the internet was not one of them. In future blogs I'll say more about my six-weeks in Cuba. I had a super exciting 2017 and worked and reworked the material of my one-woman show, Why Would I Mispronounce My Own Name? Originally called Tell Me Your Name, I’ve kept this as the working title for a companion book about names. In the process of writing and performing I’ve learned so much about how names shape our identity and sense of place in the world. I’ve done lots of research in the fields of sociology, psychology, history, politics . . . and have unearthed so much information on the subject. The play is the tip of the iceberg, and I am excited to put together this book, although progress on that front is slow. I performed my play last year at teatros in Fresno, San Antonio, and San Francisco. Was thrilled that many of the performance were sold-out houses and that my play was named Best of Fringe, at the SF Fringe Festival. I also performed at a retreat in San Diego for a national law firm. Perhaps the most exciting part of doing this work is hearing your stories about your own names or the names of someone you know and love. A young woman from Southern California told me the following story: Her spouse, a newly minted MBA had gotten his dream job with an investment firm. His resume gave his full name, Miguel Jason Pérez, (I have used a different name to protect their privacy, but have kept the convention of an identifiable Spanish first name). First day at work he is welcomed warmly and shown his nice office. The Managing Partner points to business cards on his desk and tells Miguel that the firm took the liberty of printing his business cards using only his middle name: Jason Perez (no accent). “We think our clients will be more comfortable.” According to his wife, it was an awkward situation to encounter on his first day at work, at a job he worked really hard to get. Miguel was at a loss for words and said nothing. Is this a micro (or macro) aggression? I’m eager to hear your thoughts on this. Before I share other exciting news, I want to highlight two good friends who are doing great work in the creative sphere. Diane Barnes’ one-woman show, My Stroke of Luck, has gotten its second extension at The Marsh and will play through the end of March. Bay Area people, be sure to see it. More info and reasonably priced tickets at: https://themarsh.org/my_stroke_of_luck/diane-barnes/ Linda González' memoir, The Cost of Our Lives is about to be released, and is already available on Kindle. She is having a number of book-launch parties, including one at my home the afternoon of Sunday, March 25th. If you live in the Bay Area, send me your email me and I’ll make sure you get an evite. I’ve read and discussed bits and pieces of the story with this very talented mujer. Reading the final product is both moving and a thrill. Congratulations, Linda. Get her book through your independent bookstore or order directly from the publisher: http://widopublishing.com/the-cost-of-our-lives-by-linda-gonzalez-2/ It isn’t often that the stories of women of color are on the stage or the page, so support these fabulous compañeras. I am so inspired by the creativity that I see all around me. And each and EVERY ONE of you is creative, not just folks who paint, write books and plays, or perform. Some folks express their creatively in cooking, the clothes you wear, how you style your hair, how you furnish your home/apt, in the actions that you take to promote justice and fairness. There are infinite ways to use our creativity. Stay in touch with your creative side, it will bring you great joy. It certainly does that for me. Some other exciting news at my end . . . I’m participating in the Times Unseen Initiative at The Marsh and had my first performance in a group show in late January. Here is the description of this project from the Marsh’s website: “Times Unseen will chronicle the effect of political change on individuals. One of the stark lessons of the recent election is the ideological divide between regions in America. We have a team of Marsh Artists who have personal connections to the disparate social, geographical, and political regions of America. We are asking them to interview people – Americans talking to Americans about family, love, safety, health, finances etc., in a time of political change. And our artists will bring what they hear back to the Marsh and make theater of it. Times Unseen: because we are in new territory politically, and because politics, for better or for worse, are about promises of a changed future, times as yet unseen. Times Unseen will culminate in a Festival of New Work, in time for the midterm elections in 2018, with workshop performances along the way.” For more info about this project visit The Marsh’s website: https://themarsh.org/times_unseen/times-unseen-initiative-prepared-pieces/ And finalmente . . . I’ll be performing new material in a 20-minute show titled, Your Name is WHAT? on Saturday afternoon, March 10th at 1 pm, at The Marsh in SF. Fellow Bay Area solo-performer, Theresa Donahoe, and I will be sharing a 40-minute slot during Marsh Madness, a weekend of performances at The Marsh Theatre. Theresa will present an excerpt from her new show, Confessions of a White Mexican. More info at: https://themarsh.org/marsh-madness/marsh-madness/ Come enjoy a Saturday matinee, lots of food for thought in these stories. And plenty of great restaurants just around the corner from The Marsh, so treat yourself to an afternoon outing on Saturday, March 10. I’m so grateful for all the support you have given me as I have sought to reinvent myself and create a new career over the past several years. Muchisimas gracias.

Yuli Gurriel’s Gesture and the Word Chinito Yuli Gurriel’s pulling at the corner of his eyes in the dugout was a racist gesture. I'll repeat: the gesture was racist and he will face the music by getting a suspension. For the record, I don’t follow sports, and my knee-jerk view was that he should have been suspended immediately, but I do understand why his suspension was deferred. So let me repeat myself, Gurriel’s gesture was racist, and that his gesture was accompanied by his calling out chinito, leads me to think hard about this word -- one that I myself use in a scene in my one-woman show. I describe leaving my segregated (Anglo-Mexican American) South Texas hometown of 18,000 for the big city -- San Antonio. For me this was as exciting as moving to New York. Here's the line: “It was in San Antonio that I first had Chinese food, prepared and served by real chinitos.” My wish is to express the awe and wonder of meeting people I'd not encountered before. But as we know, words, even in one's native language can be subject to various interpretations. When we translate from another language, there is plenty of room for misunderstanding. Sonia Sotomayor and La Raza When Sonia Sotomayor was nominated to United States Supreme Court much was made of the fact she had served on the Board of the National Council of La Raza, a well-respected advocacy organization (recently renamed LatinosUS) that seeks to improve opportunities for the Hispanic/Latino community in this country in all spheres -- education, health, employment, civic engagement. Conservative media and many a politician accused her of playing “race politics” and being a racist for having served on the board of a group with the word Raza in its name. Pundits and politicians translated this word as race. One news account said that a Republican leader equated her nomination to proposing that the head of the KuKluxKlan be allowed to sit on the court. (Disclaimer: I have not tracked down the original source of this statement.) I grew up hearing the words nuestra Raza, and it did not connote a notion that we were a separate race; it was used to reference our community. I always thought of nuestra raza as all those people that come in every hue and shade who share some degree or another of a common ancestral language (Spanish) and various Hispano/Indigenous cultures of the Southwestern United States, Mexico, and Central and South America. Yes, a google search will tell you that the word raza has multiple meanings, and one of them is race, but I believe that the majority of folks in the United States of Mexican-American ancestry use the word interchangeably with nuestra gente, our people. Words Most Definitely Matter and Meaning Sometimes Lost In Translation The Gurriel incident has me taking a long hard look at the word chinito. Let me explain that I have never associated the words chino or chinito (since Spanish is a gendered language we also use the words china and chinita) as racial slurs. In my world it is the equivalent of using the word Asian, as I do in the following sentence (imagine me saying it completely in Spanish). “I hike every Sunday morning with a group of good friends, several of them are chinitas.” In Spanish chino applies broadly to all Asian folks although the word also means Chinese. Note that here in the US we use Asian to refer to people with origins in China, Japan, Thailand, Vietnam, Burma, and India (S.Asian) to name a few countries. I suppose it's like using Xerox to refer to all duplicate copies, when in fact some are Canon, Hewlett Packard or another type. Although we know the difference it is generic for any duplicate copy as the use of chino is generic for persons of Asian ancestry. The former President of Peru, Aruberuto (Alberto) Fujimori, was referred to as El Chino throughout Latin America, even as folks knew he was of Japanese ancestry. Came across a tweet yesterday by some white guy saying Latinos are so stupid that we don’t even know the difference between Chinese and Japanese, but I digress. When Should a Word Be Retired? If members of the Asian community in the United States find our use of the Spanish word chino offensive, even if we don’t intend it to be, it’s important to engage in dialogue and to consider other terms in its stead. Oriental was once a commonly used English word referring to folks with ancestral roots in the Far East and eventually was retired as we became aware that it was viewed as offensive by Asians. Attached is an article by LA Sports Writer Dylan Hernandez offering his personal perspective on the Yuli Gurriel racist gesture incident and use of the word chino. It’s of interest that Hernandez’ mother was born in Japan and his father in El Salvador. http://www.latimes.com/sports/la-sp-dodgers-hernandez-20171027-story.html) I encourage you to read Hernandez' column, and I’d like to highlight this passage: “I’m not naïve to think there isn’t racism in Latin America, particularly toward indigenous people. But it would be misguided to view anything race-related from another culture through a American perspective. This country’s history of race relations is particularly ugly. If you direct a racial slur or make a racist gesture toward an Asian American person, the words carry the weight of the past, everything from the Chinese Exclusion Act to the internment of Japanese Americans in World War II. Those of us who are ethnic minoriites are often sensitive to racially insensitive language because history tells us they are sometimes precursors to legislation intended to disenfranchise people who look like us. “ Talking about race and racism is complicated in any sphere, and it’s important that communities of color not shy away from these hard conversations with each other. We cannot afford to be tone deaf to our groups' experiences of prejudice and racism. What are your views about the use of these terms? First and foremost we need to hear from Asian friends and allies about your experiences and feelings when you hear Latinos using the words chino and chinito. Eager to hear from Latinos/Hispanos/Raza about your views of these terms tambien.

It’s been difficult to write a newsletter these past few weeks. I put my hands on the computer keys and my thoughts turn to the devastating disasters all around: earthquakes, hurricanes (including one named Irma), mass shooting in Las Vegas, and now wildfires in Northern California. As I've breathed the smoky air and touched the fine ash, I think of the pain and untold losses of tens of thousands of displaced folks. Among the most vulnerable: immigrant communities, backbone of the winery and tourism industries in California’s beautiful wine region. They work so hard and have so little, and are so hard hit. Please give generously to help folks affected by the wildfires and continue supporting Puerto Rico, the Virgin Islands, and Mexico. Last Show of 2017 at The SF Marsh Theater My last show this year is part of The Marsh Rising Series, described in the Marsh website https://themarsh.org/rising/rising/ as “One-Night-Only performances of rising talent at The Marsh San Francisco. Marsh Rising presents works in progress that may be ready for an extended run.” YES, I am super excited about this show on Wednesday, November 15th 7:30 pm. Filling the house is important, so please come. If you saw my play last year at Ross Valley Players, you'll see a very different show. And if you saw an excerpt of my show sometime this year at Tell It On Tuesday in Berkeley or Solo Sundays in San Francisco, come catch the rest of the story. My goal is to get an extended run at The Marsh sometime next year. Thanks to your warm reception and strong attendance, Why Would I Mispronounce My Own Name? earned a Best of 2017 SF Fringe Award. While I would be thrilled to see you again at my last show this year, I totally understand that you have plenty of other great things to do with your valuable time. PLEASE tell your friends and encourage them to attend. I’m offering a money-back guarantee to anyone who attends: don't like it get your money back. Audience Reviews I'm happy to share some of the wonderful audience reviews posted at the SF Fringe website: http://www.theexit.org/reviews/why-r/. I loved reading each and every one of them. What’s not to love about these!! I’ve had the opportunity to follow the evolution of this play and the growth of its author/star, Irma Herrera. The messages are powerful and thought-provoking and the well-placed humor makes it a wonderfully entertaining experience. I know the play will be different each time it’s performed and look forward to every new performance. Rena P. Go see Irma’s heartfelt, comical, lushly-ethnic one-woman personal journey about our American experience that transcends race, age, geography. She made me LOL, cry, smile, and grimace with her stories that really hit home in today’s reality. Ron W. Poignant and moving; turning angst and life experience into humor – Irma’s one-woman show was Laugh Out Loud – the complete package. The audience participation made us a part of her story. Her accents were flawless. Speaking of racism and exclusion to the inclusive SF Fringe crowd is truly preaching to the choir, but to a choir that may not have experienced it viscerally as she has. My husband (the computer science geek) had tears in his eyes for most of her show. Her messages are important – on the level of Southern Poverty Law Center – Morris Dees – you would love this show. We thought of Sonia Sotomayor. In a world of increasing hate, Irma gives us a mirror but one we can digest. This is how history should be taught in school. This is how kids could learn tolerance. All that said, it’s pure entertainment. Jayah P. Thanks Rena, Ron, and Jayah and all y’all who wrote kind and thoughtful reviews. How I Got Into Solo Performance I’m often asked how I went from being a lawyer to playwright and solo performer. The answer lies at The Marsh. When I left my job as Executive Director at Equal Rights Advocates, my plan was to take a year off to travel and take some classes and revaluate where I wanted to go with my career. One of the things I wanted to do that year was to get back to a novel I had started three decades ago. I had a great year of travel (including my trip to Copenhagen where I discovered my namesake store). And then by happenstance I returned back to the paid labor force with a half-time job at a non-profit journalism organization, New America Media, co-directing a project working with journalists around the country who were writing about women immigrants in the United States. I was at that job for almost three years and after leaving decided to devote my energies full-time to writing and community service. But I just couldn't wrap my head around that novel. I told a friend that my creativity had gone out the window and she encouraged me to join her for a 10-week Sunday class at The Marsh. The teacher, she said, has an incredible talent for helping people find and shape their stories. That teacher is David Ford, considered the Dean of Solo Performance. I'd often come to class ranting about some injustice or another and David (and classmate feedback) would help shape that rant into a scene that later became part of a larger story, and so my play was developed in bits and pieces and continues evolving to this day. A truly amazing teacher, David Ford helped me find the stories that became my solo show and he also directed my original play titled Tell Me Your Name. Diane Barnes is the friend who told me about David Ford's class so she was the gateway to my new career as a solo performer. Hopefully I can follow in her footsteps. Her show, My Stroke of Luck, opens for an extended run at the Marsh next month, tickets and more info at: https://themarsh.org/my_stroke_of_luck/diane-barnes/ I've seen the evolution of this play over the past three years and recently saw it performed at the United Solo Festival in NYC. It gets better and better and gets great reviews: " My Stroke of Luck is more than a story about a doctor who has a stroke and her path to recovery. It’s a story about identity, being a single mom of a special needs child, being a doctor who becomes a patient, having brilliance reduced to a handicap, courage, loss, pain, and ultimate triumph. It’s a masterful performance by a very talented woman who has truly found her voice.” Thanks to the storytelling classes at The Marsh, I found that I loved telling my stories out loud. First, of course they have to get on the page, but much of the energy from the stories comes from sharing them with you live, from the stage. Working with my new director, Rebecca Fisher, I've become more adventuresome in incorporating additional music and even some dance. Rebecca Fisher also directs Diane Barnes' show, My Stroke of Luck and David Ford continues to advise us all. So grateful for all the folks in the solo performers village of the Bay Area who give so generously of their time and feedback as we grow our show. Heartfelt thanks. One of the side benefits of my performances is hearing your stories afterwards. This had led me back to . . . a book project, a different book, not that novel I had started long ago. It’s a book of stories about names that folks share with me in person, via Facebook, my website, or by email. In addition to a wide range of name stories the book will include research on names that I’ve found most interesting in the fields of sociology, psychology, and law, not just here but in other countries. So stay tuned. If you haven’t seen the most recent version of my play, I'd love to see you at The SF Marsh on Wednesday, November 15th at 7:30 pm. It's my last show this year. And check what other folks have said after seeing my show.

So sad and angry this morning at the human suffering and destruction based on so many lies put forth by the administration justifying policies that are clear messages to people of color in this country that they don't want our kind here. Brown people were here long before Manifest Destiny and greed led the US to invade Mexico to take its land. This is not ancient history. The region comprising eight US States went from being Mejico to the United States overnight, within days of the discovery of gold in them thar hills of Alta California. Aqui estamos y no nos vamos! Ponder this. Who is safe in a country mobilizing for mass deportations? Who is safe when we strip gay and transgender folks of basic human rights? Who is safe in a country with Muslim Registries and White Supremacists and Neo-Nazi's marching in our streets? Turn to art to recharge. My one-woman show opens at the SF Fringe Festival this Saturday with a 4 pm show. It’s hard to focus on preparation for my show, with all this hate targeting so many groups: Muslim bans, The Wall, Charlottesville, Transgender Military Ban, DACA y mas y mas y mas. And then a destructive Hurricane with the same spelling as my name wreaking havoc on the heels of the last hurricane that caused so much damage in Texas, my home state. Aargh so much to say so little time. My play is very much about the destructive nature of prejudice, and the power of redemption. And it asks that each of us check ourselves, and explore the prejudices and attitudes we carry that are hurtful to other people . . . but wait up . . . it's also hella funny. As many laughs as there are serious topics. Each of us can and must do something to make this world a better place. Yes, we fight and demand justice, AND we must have EACH others' back, cannot allow them to divide and conquer us. The material in my show is always changing, how could I not address the pardon of Joe Arpaio, the blatant racism, homophobia, misogyny, that's coming to full bloom all around us even in great liberal bastions like Berkeley and San Francisco. I'm appalled at what people are saying and doing. I could turn the material I hear and read into a full-day play . . . but it's not, just one little hour. Come see Why Would I Mispronounce My Own Name? Tickets at http://www.sffringe.org/why/ Expecting the weekend shows to sell-out so get your tickets soon. Come see it at The Exit Theater 156 Eddy St. San Francisco, CA (Powell BART Station): Saturday 9/9 4 pm Tuesday 9/12 8:30 pm Thursday 9/14 7 pm Sunday 9/17 7 pm ps: most of this on a Facebook post, but since many friends aren't on Social Media (yes, it's true) decided to share also as a blog. Adelante. #SFFringe #NoRiskNoArt

Irma Grocery Store, located in Denmark, is the world's second-oldest grocery chain store, and it turns 131 this week. Marks & Spencer is the only retail chain that has been in continuous operation longer than Irma (at least in Europe). I know about Irma's b'day as friends visiting Copenhagen sent me an email yesterday with the news of Irma's 131st b'day celebration along with the photograph below. Sometimes I tell people I'm from Denmark when asked where I'm from after I give my name its correct pronunciation. The store's name is much like my own -- not UR-ma. My visit to Copenhagen and my adventures in my namesake grocery store are part of a scene in my one woman show, Why Would I Mispronounce My Own Name? which will be at the San Francisco Fringe Festival next month (details below). If you visit Copenhagen, do check out this local treasure, it's an environmentally conscious store with lots of organic products. Recently I met a medical doctor (originally from Romania) who upon hearing my name asked where I was from. I gave her song and verse, Mexican-American ancestry, family been here for generations. Her response with a smile: "Well I didn't think you were Romanian or Hungarian." Only images that came to my mind were of the Gabor sisters Zsa Zsa and Eva. She then added that Irma is pronounced the way I say my name in her country and that her best friend from Hungary is named Irma. Someone I met from Bosnia told me the same thing about my name, so it seems that URma stands pretty much alone in English. And I was told by a German that in their country there are two similar names Erma (pronounced URma) and Irma with the softer "e" beginning. All of us meet people with names that are unfamiliar. Happens to me on a regular basis and I'm hyper vigilant around issues of names. If you aren't sure how someone pronounces their name, ask and if you aren't getting it, ask again. I had that experience recently with a new neighbor. I asked her at least three times times to tell me her name, and to spell it for me (sometimes that's helpful, sometimes not). And then Eureka, I got it. Yes, at first it feels awkward to ask again to help you with their name but isn't that better than not knowing what to call someone. Our Use of Pronouns in lieu of Names and Gender Identity Awareness A friend recently mentioned that she's become aware that name tags at conference/meetings have a space where folks can indicate their gender pronoun, sometimes called Preferred Gender Pronoun (PGP). An important side note: some people find the very notion of "preferred gender" offensive, being of the view that you are whatever gender you are regardless of what others think or perceive your gender to be. It's not a preference, it's your identity. You don't prefer to be a lesbian, or African American, or Chicana . . . you just are. So point well taken, be mindful that some may be offended by the very use of the term PGP. For more info about pronoun use and how we are good allies to folks in the LGBTQ community it's important to educate ourselves about the obstacles and issues that challenge them each and every day. Here are a couple of articles on this subject: https://www.gsafewi.org/wp-content/uploads/What-the-heck-is-a-PGP1.pdfhttps://thebodyisnotanapology.com/magazine/pronoun-round-etiquette/ The LGBTQ community is targeted in many different ways beyond the bathroom bills in state legislatures. They are on the receiving end of many forms of discrimination and violence in many communities and the most vulnerable are Transgender Women of Color, see: http://www.hrc.org/resources/violence-against-the-transgender-community-in-2017. I challenge everyone (including myself) to fess up to our own biases and prejudices and our privileges because we all have some form of privilege -- US citizenship, well-educated, healthy, insured, straight/cisgender (the list goes on) that makes our lives easier. Even with these privileges, many of us are still subjected to many forms of hate and prejudice as we have seen so clearly in the unsettling and tragic events in the past two weeks. In this overwhelming times when it seems like we can't do enough to turn the tide of anger and hate, each of us as individuals can bring civility and kindness to the world. And it starts with respect for others. We show that respect by learning peoples' names and seeing them as individuals rather than stereotypes. Come reflect more on these topics, and enjoy some good laughs too, at my solo performance at The SF Fringe Festival. There are lots of other great performers with plays addressing issues of identity around race, LGBTQ, transracial adoption. More info about these and other shows at SF Fringe at: http://www.sffringe.org/ Tickets NOW on sale for four performances of Why Would I Mispronounce My Own Name? at The San Francisco Fringe Festival: http://www.sffringe.org/why/ Look forward to seeing you at The Exit Theater 156 Eddy St. San Francisco, CA (Powell BART Station): Saturday 9/9 4 pm Tuesday 9/12 8:30 pm Thursday 9/14 7 pm Sunday 9/17 7 pm #NoRiskNoArt #SFFringe