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Super excited to announce that I’m doing my first live solo show since March 2020 at San Francisco’s Stage Werx. This venue has been so welcoming to the solo community and many of us perform short pieces as we develop full-length shows. It’s also a great place to learn and see improv and comedy. Inviting SF Bay Area peeps to come on out and see an updated version of my one-woman show. Joining me that evening is Fred Pitts performing Aren’t You? I’ve seen some of Fred’s work online and am so eager to watch him perform. He is an enormously talented actor and storyteller. Check out a snippet of Fred’s show here. We promise you an evening of great entertainment, and a brief respite from the heartbreaking news and repression all over the world -- in our own backyards where vulnerable communities are being targeted on so many fronts, at the US-Mexico border, in Ethiopia, Ukraine . . . and I'll stop there. One ray of sunshine is that we'll soon see the first Black woman US Supreme Court Justice when Judge Ketanji Brown Jackson reports to duty on October 2nd, the first Monday of October when the new term begins. I recommend reading this moving essay by Diana Butler Bass, whose work was brought to my attention by a friend because this essay about Judge Ketanji Brown Jackson explores the power of our names and the ways in which people with power often refuse to grant us the respect each and every individual is due. I hope you’ll take the time to read it. It's truly a remarkable piece of writing. I loved this article so much that I began subscribing to the author’s newsletter. Diana Butler Bass frequently comments in major media outlets on politics, religion, and culture. Here’s how the author is described on her website: “Diana’s passion is sharing great ideas to change lives and the world—a passion that ranges from informing the public about spiritual trends, challenging conventional narratives about religious practice, entering the fray of social media with spiritual wisdom and smart theology, and writing books to help readers see themselves, their place in history, and God differently. She does this with intelligence, joy, and a good dose of humor…” I’ve certainly benefitted from reading her work these past weeks. As we begin to venture out more: eating at restaurants, attending plays and movies, traveling, congregating where there are a lot of people, I urge you to take whatever precautions are still prudent. While we may be done with the COVID, the virus is not done with us. Large numbers of people are still contracting COVID and getting sick. And although hospitalizations and death rates have gone down significantly, that is of little comfort when it is your loved one that is felled by the virus. Please take care, and be thoughtful and kind, all around us many people are living with great hardships and suffering. Hope to see my Bay Area peeps next month for my first live performance. Please note that the theater requires proof of vaccination and masking (of audience members) during the performance. Here's the 411: Thursday, May 19, 2022 @ 7 pm Stage Werx 446 Valencia St. (between 15th & 16th Streets) San Francisco (two blocks from 16th St. BART) Tickets on Eventbrite. Click here:

Today is the anniversary of Claudette Colvin's arrest. On March 2, 1955, the 15-year old refused to give up her seat on a Montgomery, Alabama bus to accommodate a white woman passenger. In a blog I published two weeks ago, read it here, I noted that although Claudette had been arrested nine months before Rosa Parks, for various reasons, the leaders of the Montgomery Bus Boycott, chose not to launch the boycott with her arrest. Instead, they waited until a person they deemed a more suitable standard-bearer to be the face of the movement against the great injustices perpetrated by the Jim Crow laws. That person was Rosa Parks. Three years ago, lucky me, I was in Paris. At that time I wrote a blog about Claudette Colvin and here it is again with a few changes. Walking down a major boulevard, this distinctive poster caught my eye, so I crossed the street to take a closer look. An outsized young girl sits on top of a yellow bus. It looked like a school bus, so it puzzled me to see well-dressed grown-ups boarding the bus. It was an advertisement for a play called NOIRE. I made note of the theater and the dates. Later that day at the Alliance Française in Paris where I was studying, a class exercise had each student describing persons in pictures projected on a screen, in French, of course. Elle a des cheveux blonde, il port des lunettes, she has blonde hair, he wears glasses, and so on. The pictures were of people with different characteristics that reflect the origins of the French people -- Northern European, African, Asian, and mixed ancestry as well. A fellow student raised his hand. Based on appearance and his name -- Israel (pron. Is-rah-el) -- my initial assumption was that he was from Latin America, but this middle-aged businessman was from Pakistan and learning French as he had recently gotten a job transfer to Paris. “How do you describe a person’s skin color?” Israel asked. The teacher’s face immediately telegraphed disapproval. Her response, in French, “here, in France, it is considered racist (pronounced rah-sist), to refer to someone’s skin color or to talk about someone’s race.” Before going to France I had read articles and listened to podcasts about this very subject. I raised my hand. “Mademoiselle, I understand that the word noir is not used with reference to people of African origin. Can you speak about that?” “Oui, the preferred word is les blacks.” Click here to listen to the podcast, Rough Translation, We Don’t Say That. addressing this topic. Our teacher adds that in France it is illegal to ask people about their race or religion. (Let me clarify that it is illegal for the French Government to ask). NOIRE, Tania de Montaigne's One-Woman Show After class, I returned to the apartment we had rented and Googled Théâtre du Rond-Point, and was thrilled to learn that Noire was a one-woman show about Claudette Colvin, who was (then and now) little-known in the civil rights movement in the United States. The play is based on the book, NOIIRE, written by Tania de Montaigne, who also wrote and performed NOIRE. She is a distinguished French journalist, writer, and actor whom I had the pleasure of meeting briefly after the performance. Claudette Colvin, was 15-years old when she refused to give up her seat on a Montgomery, Alabama bus. This was several months before Rosa Park was arrested for doing the same. Claudette, was in the back of the bus in one of the seats usually occupied by blacks when a white woman boarded a crowded bus. When Claudette refused to give up her seat for this woman, she was arrested and later became one of several plaintiffs in a federal lawsuit, Browder v. Gayle, brought the year after the Brown v. Board of Education decision. The Browder case challenged segregation in public transportation. At the time the case was filed, the famous bus boycott in Montgomery was underway. The lower court and the US Supreme Court held that segregated busing violated the United States Constitution. Requests for reconsideration by the segregating entities were denied and this led to the integration of the buses in Montgomery. Days after the further appeals were denied, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. as the spokesperson for this coalition of organizations and leaders backing the bus boycott, announced the end of the Montgomery bus boycott. Black residents and their supporters had stayed off the Montgomery buses for more than a year. NOIRE was a beautifully rendered and moving production with familiar African-American music and projected still photos and video images. My research on Claudette Colvin before seeing the play proved most helpful and I was pleased to learn that my French was good enough to follow Tania de Montaigne's powerful storytelling on stage. Seeing NOIRE was one of the highlights of my five weeks in Paris. Even if you don’t speak French, have a look at the website promoting this play. Click here. I was lucky enough to meet the author and actor, Tania de Montaigne after the show. Like the United States, France struggles with the issue of racism and racial discrimination, and I could not begin to tackle this topic so I'm providing references to several articles and some relevant quotes from French scholars. “Unlike many other West European countries, and very much unlike English-speaking immigrant societies such as the United States, Canada or Australia, France has intentionally avoided implementing “race-conscious” policies. There are no public policies in France that target benefits or confer recognition on groups defined as races. For many French persons, the very term race sends a shiver running down their spines, since it tends to recall the atrocities of Nazi Germany and the complicity of France’s Vichy regime in deporting Jews to concentration camps. Race is such a taboo term that a 1978 law specifically banned the collection and computerized storage of race-based data without the express consent of the interviewees or a waiver by a state committee. France, therefore, collects no census or other data on the race (or ethnicity) of its citizens." "Political leaders are nonetheless aware that race and ethnicity matter. To counter problems of ethnic disadvantage, they have constructed policies aimed at geographical areas or at social classes that disproportionately contain a large number of minorities.” You can read the entire Brookings article Race Policy in France (a bit dated since it was published in 2001) here. I also highly recommend Can The French Talk About Race? an article in The New Yorker, click here. La condition noire In a television interview, in English, French historian and Associate Professor at the Ecole des Hautes Etudes en Sciences Sociales in Paris, Pap Ndiaye, discusses the issue of diversity and representation in France. He is the author of ‘La condition noire: essai sur une minorité française’(The Black Condition. An essay of a French minority. Ndiaye, was born in France to a ‘French’ mother and a father who came to France from Senegal. “The black condition in France is a way to feel French while being considered as not French. If you are black,” says Ndiaye, “most people in Paris ask you all the time, where do you come from. As a way to tell you, you must be from somewhere else. You must be not French.” Blog post and video of his interview (in English) available here. La Condition Americaine Like our French brothers and sisters, this is an experience that many of us in this country live every day. When asked where I’m from I say California. I usually add that I’ve lived in California for four-plus decades and I’m originally from Texas. I’m asked again, where are am I REALLY from, where were my parents born? The answer is still the same, Texas. And, of course, I’ve also been told to go back to where I came from on numerous occasions. I love Texas but have no plans to move back there, California is my home. One afternoon in Paris, we take an uber (no Lyft in France, at least back then) and get to chatting with the driver, who asks where we are from. His face lights up when we say San Francisco Bay Area. “I lived in Oakland several years.” He also shares that he is originally from Senegal and much of his family is there, but he has lived in France for 30+ years. I ask him about his experiences as a black man in both the United States and France. He pauses for a moment and says, “I feel like the French are a bit more two-faced, more hypocritical in their views about race. In the United States . . . there, you know how people feel about you.” And it is becoming more and more the case for so many Americans in our own country. #SocialJustice #Prejudice #solotheater #Racism

On March 2, 1955, 15-year-old high school student Claudette Colvin and a classmate were headed home on the public city bus in Montgomery, Alabama. When a white woman boarded the bus, the bus driver ordered them to relinquish their seats. There were other seats available where the woman could have sat. Claudette's friend moved, but Claudette refused, saying it was her constitutional right to keep her seat; she had paid her fare like everyone else. This incident happened nine months BEFORE Rosa Parks' famous stance of civil disobedience. Few people know about this teenager's brave and bold actions; fortunately, in the recent past, Claudette Colvin's story has received national attention. Claudette was a quiet and studious girl who loved learning. At the time of her arrest, her segregated school had just observed Negro History Week, but her teachers didn't limit the study to a week's time; they devoted the entire month to studying Black history. Negro History Week (its original name) was established in February 1926 by Dr. Carter G. Woodson, later known as the Father of African American History. Although started as a week-long event, Woodson believed that Black history was too important to America and the world to be crammed into such a limited time frame and he recommended that schools teach it throughout the year. In the 1960s, Black college students advocated for more opportunities to study Black history, and in February 1969, students and educators at Kent State University proposed the first Black History Month — and began celebrating it the following year. Responding to pressure from Black leaders, President Gerald Ford officially declared February as Black History Month and noted its importance as the nation celebrated its bicentennial in 1976. During these times of racial reckoning, millions of us are actively engaged in learning the neglected and previously untold history of our fellow Americans -- Blacks, Indigenous, Latinos, Asians. For more information about the history and importance of Black History Month check out the Zinn Education Project and this NY Times article. But back to 1955 and life in Montgomery, Alabama. Months before Claudette Colvin refused to give up her seat on the bus, the United States Supreme Court had ruled in Brown v. Board of Education that segregated schools violated the United States Constitution and had to be dismantled. But for Claudette and her classmates, nothing had changed; they still attended inferior and poorly funded segregated public schools. Throughout February, students at Booker T. Washington High School spoke freely about the injustices of Jim Crow. They couldn't try on clothes at department stores. When they needed new shoes, a tracing of their feet was made on a piece of paper or cardboard and taken to the store to determine the shoe size. They could not eat at lunch counters. And earlier that year, a popular classmate who lived in Claudette's neighborhood had been charged with raping a white woman, and he had been beaten and coerced into confessing to that and other crimes and sentenced to death. They knew first-hand how the system denied them their dignity and freedom in all spheres of their lives. So when the bus driver asked Claudette to give up her seat, she would not budge. Years later, she explained her reasons. "I could not move, because history had me glued to the seat . . . It felt like Sojourner Truth's hands were pushing me down on one shoulder and Harriet Tubman's hands were pushing me down on another shoulder, and I could not move." Two police officers dragged Claudette off the bus while she loudly protested that it was her constitutional right to sit wherever she wanted. Although a minor, she was handcuffed, arrested, and booked into the adult jail and charged with disturbing the peace, violating the segregation laws, and assault and battery on a police officer. She had the support of her family and their pastor, and the local chapter of the NAACP. A newly minted lawyer Fred Gray, a graduate from Case Western Law School, stepped in to represent Claudette. At that time, no Alabama law school would accept a Black student, and upon returning to Montgomery, his hometown, Gray set up a private law practice. Claudette's arrest was big news at that time. She was tried as a juvenile and convicted and put on indefinite probation. Several months later, when Rosa Park was arrested, Fred Grey also represented her. Following Rosa Park's arrest, the NAACP and other Black-led organizations launched the Montgomery Bus Boycott, which had been in the planning stages for some time. The Black residents of Montgomery had long complained of their mistreatment by the bus company. The reserved white seats exceeded the seats available to Black passengers, even though ridership was 75% Black. Some drivers required Black passengers to pay their fare, exit the bus, and re-enter through the back door. At times, the bus purposely took off before these Black passengers (who had already paid) boarded through the back door. Drivers were rude and disrespected Black passengers in countless ways. Meetings with city officials about these complaints had led nowhere. Community activists had considered using Claudette's case as the rallying point for the bus boycott but dismissed the idea. Many thought that an unpredictable dark-skinned teenager from a poor family was not the proper standard-bearer for this movement. Rosa Parks' presented the right situation. She was active in the civil rights movement and the Secretary of the Montgomery NAACP. The 42-year-old mature married woman was attractive, light-skinned, and employed as a seamstress. She was the epitome of Black respectability and viewed as capable of withstanding the scrutiny which would surely follow. Two months after the Montgomery Bus Boycott was launched, Claudette Colvin, Aurelia Browder, and three other women became the plaintiffs in a federal lawsuit challenging the segregation in Montogery's public buses. They were represented by Fred Gray, with assistance from the NAACP Legal Defense Fund. Claudette Colvin was the star witness in the case of Browder v. Gayle. W.A. Gayle, the then-mayor of Montgomery, was the defendant. The United States Supreme Court decision in this landmark case in 1956 ended forced segregation on public transportation. The Montgomery Bus Boycott lasted over a year, from December 5, 1955, to December 20, 1956, and only came to an end when the Supreme Court ordered the bus system integrated. The Montgomery Bus Boycott was the first large-scale US demonstration against segregation, and the leadership of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr's brought him to national prominence. In 1955, there were newspaper accounts about the teenage girl arrested and convicted for refusing to give up her seat on a Montgomery, Alabama bus. And then, she moved to the Brox and vanished into obscurity. Claudette Colvin rarely spoke about the vital role she had played in the civil rights movement. While researching the book, We Were There, Too! Young People in US History, Phillip Hoose came across references to Claudette Colvin's arrest and conviction. He set about looking for her. Although she had an unlisted phone number, he eventually reached her. It took four years before she was willing to share her story. Claudette Colvin: Twice Toward Justice, won the National Book Award in 2009. Fast forward to January 2021-- a mural was dedicated in the Montgomery, Alabama neighborhood where Claudette Colvin grew up to recognize her contributions to the civil rights movement. The street where she was raised was named after her. In one of the numerous interviews she gave this past year, Claudette Colvin spoke of being inspired by youth activism, especially the leadership of young black women, and the BLM movement following the murder of George Floyd. She still had some activism in her, and in October 2021, Claudette Colvin filed a petition with the Court in Montgomery, Alabama, to have her conviction expunged and clear her name. That motion was granted. Check out this wonderful CBS News story where the judge who expunged Claudette Colvin's record offers an apology on behalf of the state of Alabama. Last Fall, the Montgomery City Council voted unanimously to honor attorney Fred Gray by renaming the street where he had grown up. That street was formerly named after the President of the Confederate States, Jefferson Davis. It is now Fred D. Gray Avenue. Dr. King described Fred Gray as "the brilliant young Negro who later became the chief counsel for the protest movement." Fred Gray, 91, is still practicing law in Montgomery, Alabama. Claudette Colvin was at his side for the street naming ceremony.

I love hearing from you and an email from Maria Hidalgo in Tucson really touched me. In Maria's words is everything we need to know about the importance of our names, and with her permission, I am sharing her story. Maria's Story Back in 1973, I was hired to teach at Franklin High School in Stockton, California. It was my 2nd year teaching and still felt the normal anxiety of a new teacher. I was a double major - History and Physical Ed. Although I really wanted to be a history educator, Franklin needed a Physical Ed teacher and so, I took the job. I remember vividly on the first day of school, getting the student roster for all six periods and starting with period one, taking attendance. "Nancy Adams (here), Ed Brown (here)", and each time I came to a Spanish name I pronounced it correctly. I heard giggles from the Anglo students. I stopped and quietly asked what was funny. No one said anything. Not even the Latino students. Then I came to one of the most beautiful names I'd ever seen - Xochimilco Hurtado. No answer. I repeated the name and shyly a young girl raised her hand. And her classmates looked at her and asked, "Is that your name?" with an obvious tone of judgment. And Xochimilco snapped back "Yeah! what's it to you!." After class, some of the Latino students approached me and sheepishly asked if I would pronounce their name "regular." I pretended not to know what they meant. I asked, "Please explain what a regular pronunciation is?" "You know Mrs. H., without the Mexican accent." Gently, I reached out and placed my hand on that student's shoulder and replied, "there is no such thing as a Mexican accent, perhaps you mean Spanish accent?" And immediately, Xochimilco from the back of the small group spoke up. "Mrs. Hidalgo, you are the first teacher in all my life, who's ever pronounced my name correctly and that's how I want it pronounced. And you guys, pointing to the other 4-5 girls, need to check yourselves." I looked at the group and asked, "are we done here?" No one said a word. I wished them a good first day at school and politely excused myself. I can still recall those beautiful brown faces, who would eventually beam a smile back at me, every time I took attendance - after pronouncing their names correctly. Your story flooded me with these wonderful memories. To have your name validated by merely having it pronounced correctly - is empowering. Me Again If you are wondering how this beautiful name is pronounced, it's quite easy. The X in Xochimilco has the S sound, and the letter H in Huerta is SILENT, like the K in knock. The H in Spanish is always silent except when preceded by a C as is Chihuahua. A great example, if I say so myself, as there are the two silent H's in Chihuahua. Remember that you already know NOT to say the H. Another example is "hasta la vista baby." Ready? Here's how you say Xochimilco Huerta. SO-chi-mil-ko Wehr-ta Next on my list of things to learn is how to embed a sound file so you can hear the pronunciation. AND if you know how to do this, show me how. Please note that the X can also have the English H sound as in Mexico, Meh-hi-co. Thanks so much to Maria Hidalgo (that's E-dal-go with the E as in even ), What an unexpected and welcome experience for these students - a teacher who knew how to say their names and well understood that the "regular pronunciation" they were used to hearing failed to see them for who they really were.

Some weeks back I received 30 handwritten notes from 10th graders at Centennial High School in Corona, which is in Riverside County in Southern California. Along with those letters was a note from their teacher, Ms. Robyn Orozco. They had watched my one-woman show during the virtual Encuento Festival, sponsored by the Los Angeles Latino Theater Company. The day after the Festival ended, I met via zoom with several classrooms of students who are part of the Puente Program. In a minute I’ll tell you about Puente but first I want to thank the Puente Program for bringing my play to their schools. Here are a few things they said in their notes. Each quote is from a different writer: “I want to thank you for all the effort and time you spent on your play and doing the Q&A. I really enjoyed watching. I was able to relate to it in various ways. Realmente me encanto las diferentes expresiones que tuve durante la actuación.” The student then says she learned so much and that seeing my play motivated and inspired her to stand up for our community. I love that she so seamlessly goes from English to Spanish. “As I was watching, I liked how you went far back because it really gave meaning. I have unfortunately gone through some prejudice in my life, your presentation brought light to my thoughts on my culture.” The writer says he was inspired by my play and felt pride in being Mexican-American. He hopes someday to become a lawyer and fight for what is right. You can do it, joven, and I am rooting for you. “I kept wanting to hear more and more about the story the entire time. I especially liked the part when your teacher took note of the correct pronunciation of your name. I had never seen a one-woman play before, and it was really interesting seeing you play all the people.” Now, a bit about Puente. The Puente Project is a national award-winning program that has improved the college-going rate of tens of thousands of California's educationally underrepresented students since 1981. Its mission is to increase the number of these students who enroll in four-year colleges and universities, earn college degrees, and return to the community as mentors and leaders to future generations. The program is interdisciplinary, with writing, counseling, and community mentoring components. The word puente in Spanish means bridge. I am a huge fan of Puente and first became familiar with it through the local community college in the area where I live in the San Francisco Bay Area. I have previously served as a mentor and made presentations in Puente classes and in the past two years have met with Puente instructors and counselors on Zoom. Although started to support students to successfully transition from community colleges to four-year institutions, Puente has expanded to serve students in both junior and high schools in various communities throughout California. Puente's staff training programs have benefited approximately 300,000 students across California. Puente is open to all students, and almost all participants are or will be the first in their families to access a college education. When making our charitable contributions, we are always happy to support Puente. The Puente Project has expanded and is serving students in Texas, my home state. You can learn more about Puente Program on their website, and there’s a donate button too. Now back to a few more student letters. One reported that she could not personally relate to the experience of people mispronouncing her name or the type of discrimination she saw in my play, but this led her to a conversation with her parents who told her of their experiences confronting prejudice in their own lives. “When you showed the video of that one lady saying that the immigrant children didn’t need soap or toothbrushes, it made me feel so upset because they deserve everything especially for what they are going through.” You are so right, it is upsetting. I included a clip of this video from a court hearing about conditions in detention centers so that people can know how immigrant children are being treated. Would anyone want their children treated this way? “I really enjoyed watching your show. There were so many things I relate to, for example, my mother’s name is Maria, and some of her friends are also named Maria.” The writer adds that she also hears people say you should stay out of the sun because the whiter you are the prettier you will be. “I sometimes pronounce my name wrong or say a Mexican food in a way that would be considered normal in this country. But you have changed my mind and inspired me to take pride in my name. Thank you.” And finally, one student told me he enjoyed my play, but “no offense” he though my dancing could be upgraded. Duly noted. Thanks, Robyn Orozco, for bringing my play into your classroom and encouraging your students to share their thoughts with me. AND special thanks to each student, for your personal handwritten notes (even if it was a class assignment!). I had forgotten the joy that a handwritten letter can bring. You can hold it and read it again and again. I see you and appreciate you: Alaritza, Aliya, Alyssa, Bruno, Bryan, Chris, Diana, Diego, Erick, Giselle C., Giselle DR., Gisselle, Isabella O., Isabella P. Jacqueline, Jennifer, Jesus, Jocelyn F. Jocelyn J., Joseph, Kai, Kayla, Laura, Liliana, Maximiliano, Maximus, Naomi, Nicolas, Nicole, Oliver. Muchisimas gracias. As my friend, comedian, and solo performer, Marga Gomez, says “keep shining.”

Yep, that's a scene from my play, where I incorporate a short video clip of Don Lemon's interview with Donald Trump where he (Trump) proclaims he is the least racist person that Don Lemon has ever met. Funny/Not Funny. If you haven't yet seen my show it is still available 'til Sunday night 12/5. Although the run of my play at the Re-Encuentro Theater Festival did end, some folks experienced technical glitches and were unable to watch it. So, making it available HERE 'til the end of this weekend. A big SHOUT OUT to the Latino Theater Co. of the LA Theater Center, hosts of The Re-Encuentro Festival. They did an outstanding job, and the hard work of their staff, board, and Re-Encuentro's Selection Committee made the festival a great success. First and foremost, they made 16 theatrical performances available to the general public free of charge, So grateful I was invited to participate and that my show was streamed as part of the festival. The first time I ever had an online run. What else did I love about The Re-Encuentro Festival? Pretty much everything. The promotional images they produced for each of the 16 shows were inspired and I also loved the beautifully colorful and inviting graphics that opened the videos. Kudos all around. The festival also provided the participants' ample opportunity to network with other teatristas --theater-makers -- playwrights, performers, directors, and actors, and a chance to see each others' work. the Latino Theater Co. organized a series of panels on issues that are at the heart of many of the featured plays: immigration, colorism, grief and trauma, representation, music, queer voices. Those panel discussions are available on the Latino Theater Co YouTube channel. I hope you’ll take advantage and watch these presentations, which feature very knowledgeable folks, including some of the performers, speaking on these topics. Beyond all that, each theater company (or solo performer) was invited to do a 45-minute interview where we were asked questions about ourselves and how we created the work. In my session I was joined by my director, Rebecca Fisher, where we spoke about our working relationship as well as Rebecca’s own work in social justice theater including her work with the Bay Area’s Formerly Incarcerated People’s Performance Project (FIPPP). She serves as one of the co-directors. Check out FIPPP’s website and learn more about their work bringing stories to the stage that provide us a greater understanding of how communities of color are impacted by incarceration and the criminal (in)justice system. These online backstage activities were open not just to the participants in the festival, but to all theater companies or solo performers that applied to the festival, irrespective of whether their work was featured. I very much appreciated this spirit of openness and community which gave us a chance to interact with folks from around the country whose experiences within the Latino/x/e diaspora vary enormously. MIL GRACIAS to the Latino Theater Co. for producing such an informative and inspiring event. Seeing all that great work, got me thinking hard about my next play, although I'm still quite passionate about updating and performing ofWhy Would I Mispronounce My Own Name? I look forward to bringing it to theaters around the country, maybe to one near you. So . . . here’s your last chance if you haven’t yet seen it. You can watch it anytime between now and Sunday night, 12/5 (Midnight Pacific) by clicking HERE. A couple of screenshots to pique your interest. Thanks for sharing your reactions to the play in social media posts and in emails sent to me. I very much appreciate hearing from you, and you can reach me at irmadherrera@gmail.com. Adelante.

I woke up with this phrase: sólo tres dias, whirling in my mind. This would be the title of today’s blog. Sólo tres dias to catch my show while it’s streaming as part of Re-Encuentro, the Latina/o/x Theater Festival that ended last Sunday. All 16 plays in Re-Encuento had 10-day online runs. The plays rolled out one or two a day throughout the festival. Why Would I Mispronounce My Own Name? premiered November 19th and is available through Monday, November 29th (Midnight Pacific Time). So, if you haven’t yet seen it, this weekend is your última oportunidad. If you are lucky enough to grow up in a family where two or more languages are used daily, words and ideas stream out in a smooth consistent flow. You are not even aware that the thoughts forming in your mind are in English or Spanish (or whatever your home language). No matter what I’m writing I’m thinking bilingually, and I am constantly entertained and delighted, and sometimes surprised, by the meaning of words in various languages. Burro in Italian means butter and largo means wide. You shake your head after you get it wrong a time or two and then you're good. More on this in future blogs. I type Solo tres dias into Google Translate. Wow, I need to put an accent on that. And, for the first time, I notice the icon to hear its pronunciation. I listen . . . good authentic well-pronounced Spanish. The power of the internet at its best. Not knowing when an accent is necessary reminds me of the judgment I feel when I'm casually asked, can you translate this. “I have no idea how you say Motion for Summary Judgement in Spanish." “But I thought you were bilingual.” “I am. Let me ask about you. The language of your home is English, yes? How many years of formal education have you had in English? 12? 16? 20? I’ve never been educated in Spanish.” Growing up, most Raza had two years of high school Spanish, with Anglo kids whining, “so unfair, they already know Mexican (their word, not mine), they have an advantage over us. That’s not right.” Chicanos born and raised in the Southwest, many of our families here for generations, were punished for speaking Spanish, they tried to beat the Spanish out of us, and in many instances, they succeeded. Of course, this wasn’t just true for our community, this has been done by English speaking settlers to every group -- indigenous people whose lands they/we occupy, people whose ancestral homes were annexed and made part of the United States through war, waves of immigrants that came over centuries. That anyone in this country can maintain a home language (other than English) beyond a generation is nothing short of a miracle. My theory is that many folks oppose the retention and any formal education of our home languages -- whether Spanish, Cantonese, Arabic, Swahili, Hmong, Mandarin, and others – due to the deep psychic wound experienced by prior generations of white ethnics when they were stripped of their language and culture. Pay it forward in the worst of ways. A wrong was done to my people, we're gonna do it to yours. How many times have I had this conversation, “my (fill in the blank) had to learn English when they came to this country." “Hold up, who said anything about us NOT learning English. Of course, we learn English, but why should we be stripped of our home language?” I could go on for pages about the justifications for wanting English-only education. 1) it confuses children when they speak more than one language. Not true, speaking multiple languages is the norm in most countries regardless of the level of education. 2) real Americans give up their heritage, language, and ties to their homeland. Last I looked St. Patrick’s Day Parade was celebrated by the Irish and by me too. It’s beautiful to hold on to the culture and language of our ancestors no matter how many generations removed we are from those lands. For several years, I worked in the field of Education Law and was deeply immersed in issues of language acquisition, bilingualism, and equity. These are fascinating areas of law that are still of great interest to me. But back to my thinking and writing bilingually. Many a friend has had this experience in a writing workshop where we are the only Latinos in the room. We exchange manuscripts or read for 5,10, 15 minutes. Lots of good feedback but inevitably, someone says, “well, when I see/hear Spanish words you've lost me. I feel excluded. I think it’s better if you don’t use Spanish, or if you must, to provide a translation. Otherwise, I really don’t want to keep reading.” The first thought that comes to mind is pinches pendejos, we read stuff ALL the time in English that is unfamiliar to us, and we just go with it, expecting we’ll get the gist in context, we have faith, and keep reading. The Pulitzer Prize-winning author, Junot Diaz said it best. 'Nuf said about language. This is the last weekend to see Why Would I Mispronounce My Own Name?, where I code-switch between English and Spanish. That’s how I roll, and I’m betting you will understand everything, even if you don’t speak Español. To see my hour-long show, which is streaming on-demand, click here. It will take you to the Re-Encuento Registration Page where you provide your name and email address and voilà, you can watch. Wishing all of you a good weekend.

I have been so gratified by the response to my videotaped one-woman show, which was selected as part of Re-Encuentro, the Latina/o/x Theater Festival. Although the festival formally ended on 11/21, all plays selected for the festival got a 10-day run and mine is still streaming through Monday, 11/29 (Midnight Pacific Time). After that, poof, it will disappear from the internet. So here's your chance to see it in the comfort of your home. Although the name of the play remains the same, Why Would I Mispronounce My Own Name?, it is updated on a regular basis to comment on contemporary societal issues as they relate to prejudice, racism, and respect for others. I do not know yet how many views my play has gotten, but it has been watched throughout the United States, and in other countries too. To date, I’ve heard from people in Great Britain, Italy, France, Argentina, and S. Africa. Lucky to know people all over the world and my friends and colleagues have shared information WIDELY with their communities on social media and in private emails. Thank you for sharing these reactions with me. I am very touched by the wide viewership and your kind words for the work. Here are a few comments I’ve received either on email or posted on social media. “James and I just watched your performance. It was masterful!! Your own rich memoir, plus history lessons, plus stand-up comedy - it was completely engaging and highly informative - all while providing important insights into systemic racism. Thank you, Irma! It was powerful!” ~Teresa “Irma. Me hizo reír. Me hizo llorar. Sentí tristeza. Sentí coraje. Tus palabras me trajeron tantos recuerdos de mi niñez y de la vida de mi familia. Me encantó. Lo qué haces es tan importante como el trabajo que hacías en corte. Me siento tan orgullosa de ti. Impresionante.” ~Marta "I just finished watching the film and was blown away by it. It has all the great features of your live shows -- and so much more!! I found all of the material – old and new -- so thoughtful and thought-provoking. I admire your willingness (and dedication) to use your genius to help broaden the horizons of others." ~Julie “The time has arrived for every Anglo to see the beauty and the tribulations of a Latina growing up in South Texas. Irma is a consummate performer assuming many roles alternating between the Alice, TX drawl and the Spanish accents. She's entertaining and engaging. The show is both hilarious and moving. I plan to watch it again.” ~Neil “Ayer vi a tu amiga Irma, me encantó! Si estás en contacto con ella, mandale felicitaciones, por el show y por su actitud.” ~Judith “This is a streaming version of a one-woman play by law school classmate and former colleague. Her play has had a long run in San Francisco with rave reviews and does a great job of exploring prejudice and injustice from her personal experiences.” ~ Ted And finally thanks to Jackie for her post on FB: “There's still time to watch Irma Herrera's solo performance now streaming through November 29th! It's a powerful piece and worth taking an hour to watch. For those of you gathering with friends and family this week, watching this is a great activity to do together. It may spark interesting discussions and sharing of stories. Congratulations Irma on a great show!” My transition from lawyer to teatrista has been a wonderful and rewarding experience, and I have so many more stories to tell, so stay tuned. So grateful to the Los Angeles Latino Theater Co for hosting Re-Encuentro, such an educational and exhilirating experience. A wonderful opportunity to meet other playwrights and performers and to see all 16 plays, written, produced, and performed by us, however we might identify: Latinx, Latine, Hispanic, Latino, Chicana, our identities are richly complex and multi-layered as is our work. Check out the available offerings, many plays from the festival are still streaming for a few more days. Click here to see the play descriptions and whether they are still available. A special shout out to the Re-Encuentro team for producing such beautiful graphics and presenting a seamless and successful 10-day festival. Muchisimas gracias. You can watch Why Would I Mispronounce My Own Name?, by clicking here, and it will take you to the Re-Encuentro's, Registration Page. After you register (name and email) you can stream the show. Much gratitude to all.

“Muchacha, pareces mosca en leche,” my mother’s words urge me to change clothes, expressing her view that the white blouse I’m wearing makes me look like a fly in the milk. The laughter and other sounds of recognition when I say these lines on stage give me a solid clue as to how many of my peeps are in the audience. By my peeps I mean Raza, a term that means community in this context, rather than race. Personally, I identify as Chicana, and I also see myself as part of that larger collective of 60+ million people labeled or self-identified as Latinx, Latina, Latino, Latine (gaining traction like Latinx as gender-neutral), Hispano, Hispanic. There is no universal agreement as to what we call ourselves or others call us, and language is always evolving. It’s becoming common to see these terms used interchangeably. But this blog isn’t about what we call ourselves, it’s about colorism, a type of discrimination that favors lighter skin over darker skin, often within the same racial or ethnic group. Earlier this month, the Pew Research Center released a report titled, Latinos and Colorism: Majority of U.S. Hispanics Say Skin Color Impacts Opportunity and Shapes Daily Life. The Pew report explained that colorism can be related to racism but is its own form of discrimination, and not surprisingly found that persons with darker skin experienced more incidents of discrimination than Latinos with lighter skin. I won’t summarize the other findings but will simply say it stated the obvious, the lighter you are the greater the chance you’ve had better opportunities for a decent education and higher status better-paying jobs, and careers. The charts that accompany the report illustrate the research finding and are visually quite interesting. You can read a fuller discussion on colorism and racism and how these -isms affect our families as people from different ethnic groups and racial backgrounds enter into long-term unions and our immediate families become multi-racial in this Time Magazine article. Colorism is not unique to the Latine community, it’s everywhere, not just here in the United States, or in Latin America, it is a global phenomenon, including in India, Brazil, and many African countries. When traveling in India some years back I saw so many billboards advertising Fair and Lovely products, holding up lighter fairer skin as the standard of beauty. And there have been campaigns by Bollywood actors seeking to counter that narrative. People are voting with their pocketbooks to lighten up. An article in Marketplace reported that the “global market for bleach creams and injectables that purport to lighten skin — and which carry many potential health risks — stood at an estimated $8.6 billion in 2020, including $2.3 billion in the U.S.” A quick bilingual internet search for the image mosca en leche produced these two books with the phrase as their title. Haven't read either, but the book covers caught my eye. No matter the language, we know that a fly in the milk (or the soup) is not a welcome sight. My mother’s message was loud and clear don’t call attention to your darkness. I purposely accentuated my skin color as a form of spite. The existence of colorism was often denied with phrases like para mi todos son iguales, everyone is equal. But everyday conversations I heard among adults confirmed this deeply entrenched prejudice. "Juan Felipe is such a smart, kind boy, too bad he’s so dark." And the never-ending praise for light-skinned babies. "Carolina’s baby is so pretty, tan güerita, such light skin, tan preciosa la niña." It is not uncommon for family members and friends to assign a nickname based on physical attributes, la negrita, la prieta, la güera, la chinita. And these names are typically uttered with great affection, I took no offense when my parents or other relatives called me mi prieta. Listen to some Cuban music (just one example) and these terms of endearment are everywhere. I spent several weeks in Havana and engaged in conversations with people I befriended about their easy-going and common referencing of someone’s skin color. They were baffled by my explanation that such references in the United States would be considered racially insensitive or outright racist. Today I am a pale version of myself, having lived in the temperate climate of Northern California. When I see current pictures of me or look in the mirror, my mind’s eye sees me in the darker hue of my younger self. As I put my hand up against the chart in the Pew Research Poll on colorism, I’m a 4 but my true color is a 6. I love beach vacations because being in the hot sun restores my true color within a matter or two or three days. Pero aqui en el norte de California estoy muy palida. Talking about colorism and naming and acknowledging prejudices in our community is a good thing and a starting point for addressing our biases. It does no good to pretend otherwise. The issue was part of a national conversation with respect to Lin-Manuel Miranda's In The Heights and the casting of few Afro-Latinos in major roles. "Lo prieto no duele," my mother would say when she’d hear my siblings tease me. "Sonriete, para poder verte." Smile so we can see you in the dark. My mother’s comment that being dark never hurt anyone simply perpetuated the lie. No different than being told that sticks and stones can break your bones, but words will never hurt you. We know better, words can and do hurt us. And so does colorism. Check out my one-woman show, Why Would I Mispronounce My Own Name? where I explore how colorism in our community, along with perceptions of us as perpetual “foreigners,” leads to devaluing Latinos. Why Would I Mispronounce My Own Name? is streaming, on-demand, and it’s free, between Friday, November 19th and Monday, November 29th as part of Re-Encuentro, the Latina/o/x Theater Festival. Go to irmaherrera.com, and click on the red RSVP button, this will take you to Re-Encuentro’s RSVP form, complete that and the link will be mailed to you. You must register to receive the streaming link. Thanks for watching, it’s available during the long Thanksgiving weekend.

Every year on November 2nd, el Dia de Finados (Roman Catholic All Souls Day), our family would make a pilgrimage to Collins Cemetery, the segregated cemetery in the outskirts of Alice, Texas, our hometown. My mother and other relatives would likely have gone days earlier to spruce up: do some weeding and wash the gravestones. On that day more popularly known as Dia de Los Muertos, we would bring flowers to honor my mother’s parents, Refugia Solis and Enemencio Martinez, and other family members who were buried there. We did not grow up with the colorful Day of the Dead celebrations we now see everywhere. Our remembrances were simple: we brought flowers to our loved ones, yes, marigolds and chrysanthemums. Our visit would include prayers as well as touching and saying the engraved names on their tombstones. As she has done since childhood, my only remaining sister Ida who still lives in Alice continues el Dia de Finados tradition. Collins Cemetery, now a designated historical site by the Texas Historical Society, is the resting place for my parents, Esperanza and Claudio, and our siblings, Raquel Rosario and Claudio, Jr. White people, Anglos as we called them, are buried in a different cemetery several miles down the road. A few Black families that lived in Alice also buried their loved ones at Collins in their own section, separate from us. Thankfully, the fence dividing our two groups was taken down many years ago. Throughout South Texas, we lived with cradle to grave segregation. On my father’s side of the family, the Herreras and Morenos were buried in the border town of Escobares, Texas where his family was from. We visited their gravesites less often as Escobares was 135 miles south of Alice. The current population in Starr County, where Escobares is located, is 96% Hispanic according to Census data, and it was likely that way for several hundred years. There were few, if any, opportunities for integration. How we remember the dead varies among cultures. The Black Lives Matter movement made the words Say Their Names part of our present vocabulary. I am glad for that as it is important that we remember those who have died, that we say their names. And it is equally important to remember how they died. Earlier this year on August 2, 2021, the Second Anniversary of the racially motivated mass shooting at a Walmart in El Paso, this image above caught my eye. I set out to learn about it and to identify its creator. Two years ago, the nation was shocked when a 21-year-old white supremacist shot 46 people on a quiet Saturday morning as they shopped for groceries and back-to-school specials at Walmart. He aimed his assault rifle at anyone who “looked Mexican.” According to the online manifesto he posted, he was stopping the “Hispanic invasion of Texas.” The 23 people that were killed are remembered in this image. My internet research led me to Appalachian painter and activist, Ellen Elmes. I found her contact information and wrote her, asking permission to weave this image into my one-woman show. We arranged a phone conversation, and she wanted to know more about my intentions. I described my play and how I use theater to raise awareness about the impact of prejudice and how stoking hatred towards groups inevitably leads to violence. She kindly granted me permission but wanted me to know the back story of how and why she came to paint these individual portraits. She had read an essay written by David Carrasco Saying The Mexican Names: Reflections on Another Pandemic published on the First Anniversary of the El Paso shooting. “This past Christmas,” Carrasco wrote, “I visited the Cielo Vista Walmart to see the “Grand Candela”, the 30-foot tall golden obelisk monument which honors the people killed in this attack . . . I was disappointed that there was no plaque that listed the names of those killed . . . I stood in silence for a few moments. I pulled out the list of names from my pocket and whispered them to myself.” Click here to read the essay. Her reading David Carrasco’s essay wasn’t totally random, Ellen and her husband Don, are longtime friends with him, having attended college together in Western Maryland. Carrasco is the Neil L. Rudenstine Professor of the Study of Latin America in the Harvard Divinity School, with a joint appointment in the Department of Anthropology, Faculty of Arts and Sciences. Carrasco’s family is from El Paso. “I was deeply moved by David’s remembering of the victims and compassionate perspective,” Ellen wrote. “His words brought me to the point of realizing my desire to paint portraits of each of the 23 people murdered. Not knowing when I began painting if I could make such a project a reality, I started painting one portrait a day, each on a 9” x 12” canvas, throughout the month of October 2020. Painting the portraits became kind of a daily mantra for me, choosing the colors and photographs to work from for each person, recreating as much as possible a kind of visual vitality in paint to honor their life on earth. Initially, I looked up online pictures and info, whatever I could find, about each person and that is what hooked me into doing the paintings. They became real people. And spinning off of the importance of knowing and remembering their names, I decided to look up a legendary or mythological or cultural meaning of each name and incorporate that into each painting.” Read Ellen Elmes’ statement about this work on her website. Click here. With the help of the Harvard Divinity School staff and community leaders in El Paso, Ellen and Don were able to get addresses for all the families and mailed them the individual portraits she had painted of their loved ones. The families received them on Christmas Eve 2020. The story of the portraits became known to others and her images made their way to social media on the Second Anniversary of the Walmart shootings. Thank you, Ellen, for this series of portraits titled A Tribute to Beloved Lives. And thanks also to David Carrasco for sharing his experiences about growing up in a world of prejudice and segregation, something familiar to me and many of us. I have woven Ellen Elmes’ images into my one-woman show, Why Would I Mispronounce My Own Name? which is part of Re-Encuentro 2021, a National Latina/o/x Theater Festival taking place later this month. You can learn more about the El Paso Massacre and the events that gave rise to this deadly assault in this illuminating Truthout article by colleague Camilo Pérez-Bustillo. Click here for article. Thanks for reading this blog. I appreciate your sharing it with family and friends. Why Would I Mispronounce My Own Name? written and performed by Irma Herrera Streaming, on-demand, Free Starting Friday, November 19 @ Noon (Pacific Time) through Monday, November 29th Midnight Click here to RSVP. You must RSVP to receive the streaming link

Eureka! You can now register to watch Why Would I Mispronounce My Own Name? during Re-Encuentro, the national Latina/o/x Theater Festival. My one-woman show will be available for on-demand streaming starting Friday, November 19th at Noon and through midnight November 29th. There is no cost for watching any of the performances during the festival. Click here and it will take you to the page where you can complete the rsvp form, please note that you must scroll down to the end of the play's description to see the RSVP form. Although the form states "[t]his reservation is only for the premiere of Why Would I Mispronounce My Own Name on Friday, November 19 at 12:00 P.M PST," you can watch the performance ANYTIME during the 10-day streaming period. You must register to get the link, so do it now, it takes less than a minute. According to the registration page, the link will be sent before 11/19. There is no indication as to when the link will be sent, but I will keep an eye out for it and I will let you know when I get my link, as I too registered to see it. Although you might well imagine that I'll be watching it on Friday, 11/19 at Noon. Did you already see the show on stage pre-pandemic or a Zoom presentation during the past 18 months? I invite you to watch it again, as it is revised and updated. This performance was filmed at StageWerx Theater in San Francisco, so if you watched on zoom all you saw was a talking head on a rectangular screen. For anyone who is fully vaccinated and comfortable with small gatherings, please consider hosting a watch party with a handful of friends. Your support has meant so much to me. Please help spread the word, tell your friends about it. Money-back guarantee that it will be an hour well-spent. What Others Have Said "This is a show for all generations. My teen son, retired mother, and I saw the show together and couldn't stop talking about it. Ms. Herrera invites us to examine racial history in America and our own perceptions in a way that opens conversations through humor and authenticity. ¡Cinco Estrellas!" ~Melinda Martinez, Teacher Training Coordinator, Puente Program “Put @irmadherrera's theater piece, "Why Would I Mispronounce My Own Name?" on your to-do list . . . Personal and deeply thought-provoking on issues of identity important for us to think about today” ~Professor Marsha Cohen, Hasting College of the Law

My one-woman play will be shown nationally as part of Re-Encuentro, a theater festival sponsored by The Latino Theater Company of the LA Theater Center. You can watch a recently filmed version of my play, on-demand, in the comfort of your own home. To make sure you get the registration link, please provide me your name and email address in the Contact Irma! Form on the home page of my website, irmaherrera.com, as I’ll include this information as soon as available in upcoming newsletters. I last performed before a live audience the weekend of March 6-8, 2020, in Brian Copeland’s Best of SF Solo Series in San Leandro, CA right before COVID shelter-in-place orders. Although most shows that weekend were on the cusp of selling out, even ticketed folks were forgoing activities where large groups of people gathered. Still, it was a great weekend. That was 21 months ago, the separation of immigrant children from their parents was still in the news, the Walmart Massacre in El Paso, a very recent and painful wound to the Latino community. Back then COVID was not yet dominating our lives, George Floyd had not yet been murdered by a callous police officer, the COVID virus had not yet been racialized by top government officials leading to a spike in Asian hate crimes. All this and more are incorporated into this updated version of my show. Live theater is gradually re-opening, from Broadway to local venues, and I am so excited and grateful. I love sitting in a theater, especially those intimate black box spaces. Gradually the lights dim, and darkness surrounds us. There, I am transported and can experience situations that are totally new. It is equally exciting to see myself and my community in familiar struggles and joys as their lives unfold on stage. And as much as I love being in the audience, it is a wonderful experience to bring those stories to you. The laughter, sighs, uncomfortable chuckles, shuffling in the seats, and the absolute silences are immediate feedback of audience reactions. As we develop our stories we do so quietly, alone. If we are lucky, we share our work with a small group of trusted friends, and get their reactions, we shape and reshape. We workshop our material in larger groups, in classes, in someone’s living room, and eventually, we put the play on its feet for the broader public, but we really don’t know what we’ve got until we perform our work before an audience. During the pandemic, there has been strong demand for my play and I have been presenting on Zoom. An extra-long curtain rod with a burgundy velvet curtain along the wall, extra lighting, a Panasonic camera, and a microphone connected to my iMac, transform mi oficina into a virtual teatro. I’ve presented a Zoom adapted version of my play, and short excerpts, for schools, colleges, law firms, organizations, a conference of law professors, and even as a part of a fundraising event. Audiences have varied - from a dozen folks to hundreds. It is exciting to know people are watching from Texas to Michigan, New York to California. Post-performance, we invite audience members to share their thoughts around specific questions: And we have found that audiences are receptive and engaged and often the conversations continue 30-45 minutes beyond the scheduled program time. Here’s a comment shared by a member of a law firm that used Why Would I Mispronounce My Own Name? as part of its Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion Program. “Irma’s one-woman performance is an engaging way to learn about racial and gender discrimination. Her performance is thought-provoking, enlightening, and, at times, quite funny. Participants overwhelmingly appreciated Irma presenting these topics in this unique way. Equally valuable were the breakout groups following Irma’s performance . . . For some, it was the first-time participants felt comfortable having these types of conversations and many felt like they gained a greater awareness of their colleagues’ work and life experiences.” During the next several weeks, I will share more of the backstory of developing this work, originally titled, Tell Me Your Name, and how the play is always evolving. So, if you aren’t already subscribed to my newsletter, please get on board by visiting my website, irmaherrera.com, and providing your name and email address on the Contact Irma! Form. Or you can email me at irmadherrera@gmail.com and ask me to add you to my distribution list. I’m so excited that no matter where you live, you can see my show. You don’t have to get yourself to the San Francisco Bay Area. Although a trip to San Francisco is always such a treat. The theater festival is on for just 10 days, and watching the play is gratis. After that 10 day period . . . poof . . . like magic, the show will no longer be available for streaming. As more theaters open up, I hope to start performing live again, maybe I’ll be invited to perform in your city. Thanks so much for reading my blog.