Elegy on the Death of César Chávez

author: Rudolfo A. Anaya

illustrator: Gaspar Enriquez

Cinco Puntos Press, 2000

grades 5-up 

Mexican American

And we have wept for him until our eyes are dry…

Here, brilliant novelist and seasoned Chicano activist Rudolfo Anaya pens for middle readers (and everyone else) an impassioned poem about grief, about mourning, about history and the greatness of a humble man of la gente—and ultimately, about hope for the future.

With a nod to Christianity, Shakespeare, Shelley and Whitman—and spot-on use of meter and repetition, combined with natural code-switching throughout the poem (“Across the land we heard las campanas doblando/ Ha muerto César; Ha muerto César”)—Anaya teams with Chicano artist Gaspar Enriquez to bring us a work of unparalleled clarity and beauty, a poem of honoring and love for a person whose untimely passing was a blow to the Raza community and to the world.

As an elegy for a humble leader, la gente’s hero, it moves from grief (“this earth he loves so well is dry and mourning”), to hope (“his disciples know he is not dead/ for in the dawn we see the morning star/ el lucero de Dios”), and finally, to a continuation of the struggle against oppression (“throughout Aztlán we call the young to gather: Rise, mi gente, rise”).

That Anaya’s poem and Enriquez’s artwork “lack subtlety” (as one reviewer wrote) is an understatement: there is no pretense here, no couching of either emotion or motive. This is an elegy, to be sure; it’s also a cry for action and unity, to rise against injustice and oppression.

Enriquez’s airbrushed mixed-media collage artwork, presented as a series of old snapshots, is built from existing photos, some from the United Farm Worker archives. As such, his art both communicates a feeling of familia y comunidad and complements Anaya’s poetry. Here, amid farm worker flags, the US flag, and Aztec symbols, is a weeping Virgen de Guadalupe (“you starved your body so we might know your spirit”). Here is a handcuffed farm worker, tendrils from a cluster of grapes framing his hands and the cop’s gun (“a scourge on the oppressors of the poor”). Here are agricultural workers, bent over in the backbreaking labor of harvesting onions (“this man who was a guide across fields of toil”). Here are farm worker children—superimposed over an image of a crop duster and a newspaper headline—whose lives are threatened by cancer-causing pesticides (“children uneducated in a land grown fat with greed”). Here are a group of cholos, the young people with whom Enriquez works, contemplating unity (“rise not against each other, but for each other”).

Helpful additions, especially for classroom and school libraries, include a chronology at the end of the book, which is made into a beautiful poster on the inside of the dust jacket, and a heartfelt note from Anaya about César’s life and work. At the end, Anaya implores young people:

Build the house of justice, the poem says in the end. Each one of us has a role in building that house. Each one of us must make a commitment to build a better society. Yes, we must organize. We must work together. We must fight against oppression. In this way we honor César and all the good men and women who have struggled to better our lives.

In a classroom or school library, Elegy can provide a multiplicity of thoughtful exercises. Pairing Elegy with Carmen Bernier-Grand’s excellent César: Sí, Se Puede! Yes, We Can! can elicit discussion of contrasts and similarities in the ways that poetry can be used to describe oppression and call for struggle, and students can try out different forms of poetic writing to express their feelings about family and community. Contrasting the art in Elegy with Yuyi Morales’ art in Kathleen Krull’s Harvesting Hope: The Story of Cesar Chavez and Ilan Stavans’ Cesar Chavez: A Photographic Essay can support discussion and art activities around the topic of symbolism and realism in art. Both Spanish speakers and Spanish language learners can look at the power of code-switching and idiomatic Spanish in poetry and try this technique in writing about their own lives. As well, non-Spanish speakers can use Elegy to examine the use of metaphor in poetry and discuss what kinds of writing resonates with them. And finally, all students can be asked to think deeply and describe their personal commitments (in writing or art or both) to “build the house of justice.”

Bravo, Rudolfo and Gaspar and Cinco Puntos Press! Elegy on the Death of César Chávez is an amazing work that’s highly recommended.

—Beverly Slapin and María Cárdenas
(published 6/30/14)

Side by Side: The Story of Dolores Huerta and Cesar Chavez / Lado a Lado: La Historia de Dolores Huerta y César Chávez

author: Monica Brown
translator: Carolina Valencia
illustrator: Joe Cepeda
HarperCollins, 2010
grades 2-4
Mexican American

To the best of my knowledge, Side by Side/ Lado a Lado is the only bilingual picture book about the decades-long collaboration between César Chávez and Dolores Huerta, leaders of a labor struggle that organized thousands of the most impoverished workers in the US into an unstoppable force. Indeed, in the 1960s, “¡Sí, se puede!” and “¡Viva la causa!” were battle cries for human rights and social justice.

The story begins with double-page spreads showing Dolores’s story on the left and César’s on the right-hand side. Here, young readers will see how their childhoods differed: Dolores is a talker while César is a listener; Dolores is an activist while César is an agricultural worker; Dolores’s family takes care of others while César’s family’s life is difficult. As adults, Dolores teaches migrant farm worker children while César labors in the fields. When the two meet years later, their life experiences become their organizational and philosophical strengths as they join forces to fight for justice in the fields.

A helpful author’s note, geared to parents, teachers, and older readers as well, provides further historical information—such as the immigration act of 1986, and victories including collective bargaining, health benefits, pensions, and farmworker clinics—to supplement the picture book format.

Cepeda’s mixed-media paintings—using oils, acrylics and collage on a bright palette of blues, oranges, yellows, greens and browns—are expressive and dramatic. Here are agricultural workers trying to escape the poisonous fumes of a plane spewing pesticides. Here are Dolores and César together, standing on a flatbed truck, speaking to a few somewhat-interested listeners. Here is César during his 26-day hunger strike, weakly looking out the window, while Dolores rallies the workers. And here is César’s funeral, with thousands of farmworkers and supporters honoring him.

Unfortunately, weaving Dolores’ and César’s stories together in this parallel style sometimes results in inconsistency and oversimplification. For instance, “Dolores saw that Cesar had great faith…Cesar saw that Dolores had great courage.” In fact, both César and Dolores had great faith and great courage. Another problem is that a major struggle—perhaps one of the most famous United Farm Worker struggles—is described here inaccurately. On a spread depicting an organizing meeting, the text reads:

Cesar and Dolores asked people to stop buying grapes from California because the poisons the growers used there were making the workers sick. People listened, and the grapes rotted on the vines. The farmworkers won! They got a safer place to work, and the grapes became safer for people to eat.

Here, the Delano strike, boycott, and secondary strike against California growers of table grapes—a massive struggle that lasted for five years—is collapsed into what appears to be one meeting. On the following spread, which depicts the 340-mile march from Delano to Sacramento, the text says that the purpose of the march was “to demand that workers get paid enough to live on.” But this famous march, in fact, occurred during the grape boycott, not after it was over, and it encompassed many demands, not just one.

Nevertheless, Side by Side is one of the few picture books that demonstrate that César Chávez did not work alone and that Dolores Huerta was more than a political sidekick. Along with Carmen T. Bernier-Grand’s César: ¡Sí, se puede! / Yes, We can!, Kathleen Krull’s Harvesting Hope: The Story of Cesar Chavez, and Sarah Warren’s Dolores Huerta: A Hero to Migrant Workers, Side by Side / Lado a Lado is a valuable addition to a collection of picture books that bring the courageous struggles of migrant agricultural workers to an early elementary audience. Recommended.

—Beverly Slapin
(published 6/10/14)

César Chávez: the Struggle for Justice / La lucha por la justicia

author:  Richard Griswold del Castillo

translator: José Juan Colín

illustrator: Anthony Accardo

Piñata Books / Arte Público Press, 2008

grades 3-up

Mexican American

It was 1969, and I remember marching with César Chávez in Delano and in front of the Berkeley Safeway. Everyone was shouting, “¡Huelga! Don’t buy poison grapes!” César was a small man, and sometimes you could hardly hear him. Yet he spoke with such great passion and presence. His power came from within and inspired us and ignited our spirits. Even though grapes were one of my favorite fruits, I did not eat them for years. We were there to support César and the agricultural workers and our movement was exciting and purposeful. For Chicana/o students like me, it was more than the struggle for one group of workers—it was also our struggle to grow our identities and cultural connections.

In simple words and almost-photographic watercolor illustrations, this large, bilingual picture-book biography introduces young readers to the humble migrant farm worker who led the labor struggle that became known as the “fight in the fields”—to secure better pay and working conditions for Raza and other agricultural workers. The design is striking—on each double page spread, the large well-spaced text appears on the left, with full-page paintings on the right. The English and Spanish texts are separated—and yet connected—by a repeating banner of black UFW eagles on a red background.

When I look at Accardo’s boldly colored illustrations, they give me chills. They remind me of those exciting days and of the passion, struggles and triumphs of my people. Here is his mother comforting young César, after he’s learned the harsh lessons of discrimination at school. Here is an older Chávez, studying a book about Gandhi, and leading people on a march, and speaking at a rally, and breaking a fast by accepting a small piece of bread from Robert Kennedy. And here is a depiction of Chávez’s funeral. At the center is a plain pine coffin carried by farm workers. In front is a little girl, sitting on her father’s shoulders. And all around are people and flags—of La Vírgen de Guadalupe, and the UFW eagles, and the American flag. What is especially moving is that, in those paintings where Chávez is leading a march or speaking with farm workers, he is indeed one of them, not separated in any way. This is exactly what our students need to understand—Chávez’s strong connection to the people.

Unfortunately, the narrative (along with the literal Spanish translation) is a historical walk-through; it’s flat and passionless. The sentences are short and choppy, more a recitation of facts than a story. 

For example, here is the first paragraph:

César Chávez was a very important Mexican American leader in the United States. He was a man who improved the lives of poor farm workers. He fought to help them get better wages and working conditions. He helped them gain more respect and end discrimination against them. César Chávez organized the United Farm Workers Union to do this. He gave the poor hope that life could be better.

 

Here, in Griswold del Castillo’s presentation of César Chávez as a larger-than-life leader who “improved” the lives of farm workers and “gave them hope,” the agricultural workers themselves have no agency—no capacity to make their own choices. In reality, César Chávez was a leader of the people. As César organized and encouraged the poorest workers in the country, they took their own power and were able to make significant changes in their lives and the lives of their families.

And in some instances in the narrative—“Working and moving from place to place, Cesar learned how poor the farm workers were”—Griswold del Castillo makes it appear that Chávez is outside looking in rather than acknowledging the first hand experience of his own family as migrant agricultural workers. As it is, the narrative loses the opportunity to tell a rich story.

Nevertheless, César Chávez: The Struggle for Justice / La lucha por la justicia can be used alongside Carmen Bernier-Grand’s César: ¡Sí, se puede! Yes, we can! and Kathleen Krull’s Harvesting Hope: the Story of Cesar Chavez and is recommended.

—María Cárdenas
(published 1/9/14)

César Chávez: A Hero for Everyone

author: Gary Soto

illustrator: Lori Lohstoeter

Aladdin, 2003

grades 3-up

Mexican American

Soto’s narrative begins in 1962, as young organizer César Chávez and other recruiters walk from house to house in Corcoran, California, explaining to Mexican-American agricultural workers about a new union that would help them in their desperate need for justice. As a farm worker himself, Chávez knows that Corcoran is a dangerous place for seasonal workers—he knows that contractors often steal their hard-earned money, and he knows that “strikers had been beaten and shot and sometimes killed by armed farmers.”

The narrative then turns back to the beginnings of Chávez’s early life on his grandparents’ large homesteaded farm, where the whole family works together in tough Depression-era times. And school is far from welcoming for Spanish-speaking children—“all Cesar would remember of school was the whistling of the ruler as it came down on his wrist or knuckles.” Indeed, during his years as a young farm worker, Chávez’s experiences with poverty, injustice and racism are what shape him into the organizer he later becomes.

When the family, hungry and broke, is forced to leave their farm, young readers will see what young César and the other migrant agricultural workers have to endure; and as the narrative progresses, Chávez’s development as an organizer:

[The farm workers] had to wake up before dawn. They had to work stooped over for ten hours. They had to breathe in pesticides that stayed on leaves. There were no toilets. There was no clean water to drink. There were no rest breaks. Their whole day was just hard labor.

As Soto describes how César Chávez develops from inexperienced organizer of local Chicano workers to leader of the fledgling National Farm Workers Association, to joining with the Filipino compañeros of the Agricultural Workers Organizing Committee, to convincing the workers to adopt a tactic of nonviolence while engaging in the “fights in the fields,” to leading the 300-mile peregrinación from Delano to Sacramento, to the shouts of “¡Que viva la huelga!” and “¡Sí, se puede!” that were heard around the world, young readers will come to understand the life and work of a man of courage, humility and strength who fought for the rights of some of the most exploited workers in the US.

As a child, Soto worked the fields of the San Joaquin Valley; and currently serves as a Young People’s Ambassador for California Rural Legal Assistance and the United Farm Workers of America. He’s a brilliant and prolific storyteller whose knowledge and experience shine in this small biography of “a hero for everyone.”

Although this series, called “Milestone Books,” is designed for easy reading, the vocabulary is not oversimplified and the text does not condescend. Unfortunately, the book is printed on cheap “mass-market” paper and Lohstoeter’s black-and-white illustrations are less than engaging. Nevertheless, Soto’s evocative book can be paired with Carmen Bernier-Grand’s César: ¡Sí, Se puede! Yes, We Can! and Kathleen Krull’s Harvesting Hope: The Story of Cesar Chavez. All three are highly recommended.

—Beverly Slapin
(published 12/27/13)

Children's Books about César Chávez: Telling or Showing?

Many reviewers of books for young readers give a free pass to the often-oversimplified narratives and illustrations that constitute pictorial biographies. I have seen and heard, more often than not, comments to the effect that these are “just” for children and therefore, should not contain more than brief chronologies of events. It is my firm belief, however, that young children who are challenged to think deeply are capable of understanding complex issues and responding positively. Values such as “empathy,” “honesty,” “kindness,” “respect” and “fairness,” among others, can be encouraged early on if they are modeled in life—and shown in picture books.

I use the word “shown” because one of my other firm beliefs is that children shown how to think are more likely—than are those who are “told” only what to think—to develop into critical readers and thinkers, children who will apply what they have learned to their lives.

To illustrate how some picture books “show” and others “tell,” let’s look at a pair of excerpts, each from the introduction to a picture book about César Chávez. Following the excerpts are my comments.

Excerpt 1:  

As a child, Cesar Chavez traveled with his family from one farm to the next to pick beans, broccoli, lettuce, and other crops. After a day in the fields, his back often ached. His hands were sore. Yet Chavez and others who helped put food on Americans’ tables often had no tables of their own, no real homes. Later, Cesar Chavez would lead the fight for better pay, working conditions, and health care for families such as his.[1]

Excerpt 2:

¡Híjole!

Who could tell?

Who could tell

that Cesario Estrada Chávez,

the shy American

wearing a checkered shirt,

walking with a cane to ease his back

from the burden of the fields,

could organize so many people

to march for La Causa, The Cause!

Who could tell

that he with a soft pan dulce voice,

hair the color of mesquite,

and downcast, Aztec eyes,

would have the courage to speak up

for the campesinos

to get better pay,

better housing,

better health?

¡Híjole!

Who could tell?[2]

Comments: While Excerpt 1 implies that César Chávez was born poor, that he had no real home, and that he was not American, Excerpt 2 makes no such implications.[3] While Excerpt 1 dispassionately tells young readers that “after a day in the fields, his back often ached” and “his hands were sore,” Excerpt 2 shows them the effects of a lifetime of difficult labor: “walking with a cane to ease his back/ from the burden of the fields.” While Excerpt 2 shows young readers how César Chávez belonged to the land and the culture (“shy American,” “hair the color of mesquite,” “soft pan dulce voice,” and “downcast Aztec eyes”), Excerpt 1 does not.

Now, here are some more excerpts from picture books about César Chávez, including the ones we’ve already examined. Each excerpt below either “shows” or “tells” about an aspect of his life. In each category: Which ones carry stated or unstated assumptions that “tell” children what to think? Which ones “show” or gently lead children into understanding? Which ones are more likely to engage child readers? Which ones are more likely to encourage empathy in child readers?

Early Childhood

Facts: As a young child, Cesario Chávez lived with his large extended family on an 80-acre ranch, where the family produced all that they needed, not only for a comfortable life, but also to stock their grocery store and feed homeless people who happened by. Cesario and his siblings were raised on the dichos of their mother, the examples of their father, and the stories of their grandparents—and lots of love. He later wrote, “I had more happy moments as a child than unhappy moments.”

Cesar Chavez was born in 1927 near Yuma, Arizona. His family had a grocery store and a farm. Cesar was born in a little room over the grocery store.[4]

Everyone in the Chavez family worked on their farm. Cesar’s father planted seeds in the dirt. He hoed away the weeds. He dug ditches to bring water from the river to the farm. Without water, the crops could not grow. Cesar and Richard fed the horses, cows, and chickens. They gathered eggs. Rita washed clothes by hand. Juana made tortillas from ground corn. Their family was poor.[5]

Cesar woke up early each morning and did the usual farm chores. He carried water from the nearby canal, fed the animals, and gathered eggs. Then he went to school.[6]

Until Cesar Chavez was ten, every summer night was like a fiesta. Relatives swarmed onto the ranch for barbeques with watermelon, lemonade, and fresh corn. Cesar and his brothers, sisters, and cousins settled down to sleep outside, under netting to keep mosquitoes out. But who could sleep—with uncles and aunts singing, spinning ghost stories, and telling magical tales of life back in Mexico? Cesar thought the whole world belonged to his family. The eighty acres of their ranch were an island in the shimmering Arizona desert, and the starry skies were all their own.[7] 

Family

Facts: Cesario’s extended family was huge: Besides grandparents, parents, sisters and brothers, there were aunts, uncles and cousins. These loving role models were always around. From his father, he learned the value of honest work, however hard—and the inequities of the farm labor system. From his mother, he learned the value of compassion and the importance of caring for poor and homeless people. From his grandparents, aunts and uncles, he learned about faith, the history of his people, and how to read in Spanish.

Cesar’s father was often too busy to spend time with his family. It was Cesar’s mom who kept them together. She told her children stories. She taught them values and many proverbs, such as “What you do to others, others do to you.”[8]

At night, Cesar watched his father make toy cars from tin cans and small pieces of wood. Cesar and his brothers played with their cars on the floor. At bedtime, their grandmother listened to the children’s prayers.[9]

(Librado) taught César

how to make cars

out of sardine cans

and tractors

out of spools of thread….

Tugged at César’s ears

and patted his head….

(Juana) often spoke to César in dichos,

taught him from the Bible.

“What does the Lord require of you,

but to do justice,

to love kindness,

and to walk humbly with your God?”

Hated violence.

“God gave you senses,

like your eyes, and mind, and tongue

and you can get out of everything.”

Gave César manzanilla tea,

and hugged him tight.[10]

Until Cesar Chavez was ten, every summer night was like a fiesta. Relatives swarmed onto the ranch for barbeques with watermelon, lemonade, and fresh corn. Cesar and his brothers, sisters, and cousins settled down to sleep outside, under netting to keep mosquitoes out. But who could sleep—with uncles and aunts singing, spinning ghost stories, and telling magical tales of life back in Mexico?[11] 

César learned from his parents. His mother told him many stories that taught about the importance of helping the poor and not being violent. César’s grandmother also taught him how to believe in God and the teachings of the Catholic Church. César’s uncle taught him to read in Spanish.[12]

School

Facts: School was a horrible time for young Cesario. Here is where his name was changed to “Cesar,” and he was taught that all that he learned from his family was worthless; that he was “less than” because he spoke, read and wrote in Spanish. The usual punishment for young César and his Spanish-speaking friends was humiliation—and to have the Spanish beaten out of them. Needless to say, he hated school. But he remained, learning to speak, read and write English, and learning the other skills that would serve him later in life. César was the first in his family to graduate from eighth grade.

The teacher told the children to speak English. Speaking English was hard. Everyone spoke Spanish at home. Many times, Cesar forgot to speak English. Then the teachers hit his fingers with a ruler.[13]

The Chavez family spoke Spanish at home; but in school, whenever Cesar spoke Spanish, his teacher hit him. “It’s a terrible thing,” he later said, “when you have your own language and customs, and those are shattered.”[14]

School was an unwelcoming place. He wasn’t allowed to speak Spanish, the family’s household language. In fact speaking it brought on punishment. All Cesar would remember of school was the whistling of the ruler as it came down on his wrist or knuckles.[15]

Once, after Cesar broke the rule about speaking English at all times, a teacher hung a sign on him that read, I AM A CLOWN. I SPEAK SPANISH. He came to hate school because of the conflicts, though he liked to learn.[16]

One word in Spanish,

 just one word,

and ¡Fuii! whistled the ruler

across César’s knuckles

its edge cutting sharply.

The teacher hung a sign

around his neck:

“I am a clown.

I speak Spanish.”

“If you’re an American,”

 she said,

“speak only in English.

If you want to speak in Spanish,

go back to Mexico.”[17]

In 1992, I worked with an ad hoc group of Bay Area parents, students, school workers and community activists. Together, we gave our skills and life experiences to a project that evaluated a set of history and social studies textbooks with a collective eye on giving our diverse community’s children what they needed to survive and thrive.[18] The insidious message with the focus of these textbooks, as we stated, was this: “In order for some children to be proud of their histories, other children must be made ashamed of theirs.” We went on to say, “We have to teach (all our children) who they are, where they came from, and how they can change the world.”

It’s not enough for children to be told the facts. Children need to be shown to see the colors, hear the music, sniff the air, taste the food, touch the trees and feel the emotions. ¡Sí, se puede!

—Beverly Slapin
(published 12/8/13)

---

[1] David A. Adler and Michael S. Adler, A Picture Book of Cesar Chavez, illustrated by Marie Olofsdotter. Holiday House, 2010.

[2] Carmen T. Bernier-Grand, César: ¡Sí, Se puede! Yes, We Can!, illustrated by David Diaz. Marshall Cavendish, 2004.

[3] In fact, young César and his family lived in a spacious adobe house that his grandfather had built many years earlier. As Kathleen Krul writes, “Cesar thought the whole world belonged to his family. The eighty acres of their ranch were an island in the shimmering Arizona desert, and the starry skies were all their own.” It wasn’t until César was ten years old, when the Great Depression hit, that the Chávez family joined hundreds of thousands fleeing to California to seek itinerant work.

[4] Susan Eddy, Cesar Chavez. Children’s Press, 2003.

[5] Ginger Wadsworth, Cesar Chavez, illustrated by Mark Schroder. Lerner, 2004.

[6] Adler, op. cit.

[7] Kathleen Krull, Harvesting Hope: The Story of Cesar Chavez, illustrated by Yuyi Morales. Harcourt, 2003.

[8] Adler, op. cit.

[9] Wadsworth, op. cit.

[10] Bernier-Grand, op. cit.

[11] Krull, op. cit.

[12] Richard Griswold del Castillo, César Chávez: The Struggle for Justice / La lucha por la justicia, illustrated by Anthony Accardo. Piñata Books, 2002.

[13] Wadsworth, op. cit.

[14] Adler, op. cit.

[15] Gary Soto, Cesar Chavez: A Hero for Everyone, illustrated by Lori Lohstoeter. Aladdin, 2003.

[16] Krull, op. cit.

[17] Bernier-Grand, op. cit.

[18] Our evaluation, which we distributed widely, was entitled, Communities United against Racism in Education: CURE Analysis, Houghton Mifflin History/Social Science Series, 1991.

César Chávez

author: Susan Eddy

Children’s Press, 2003

kindergarten-grade 2

Mexican American

In this short “Rookie Biography,” black-and-white archival and full-color contemporary photos combine with an easy-to-read text to tell the story of César Chávez—one of the great heroes of modern times—and the migrant farm workers whose lives he devoted his life to improve.

The photos—all of them—are evocative, portraying the dismal working and living conditions of migrant agricultural workers, strike and boycott rallies, and Chávez himself—talking with a small group of farm workers, speaking before the AFL-CIO, walking a picket line, and signing a successful agreement with perturbed-looking grape growers.

The text, which is linked to the photos, gives as much information as is possible in this format: “The farm owners were not fair to the workers. The workers did all the work, but the farm owners made all the money. Cesar knew this was not right.”

Embedded in the text are several words with pronunciation prompts: “furniture (FUR-nuh-chur),” “migrant (MY-gruhnt),” “organized (OR-guh-nized),” and “union (YOON-yuhn),” but not “tomatoes,” “eighth,” or “presidential.” I find this teeth-grindingly annoying.

However, as a series book for beginning readers—with limited text and short sentences—Cesar Chavez could have been a lot worse. Recommended.

—Beverly Slapin
(published 12/6/13)

Picture Book of César Chávez

authors: David A. Adler and Michael S. Adler

illustrator: Marie Olofsdotter

Holiday House, 2011

grades 2-up

Mexican American

 A Picture Book of Cesar Chavez is a cookie-cutter picture biography, a linear approach to Chávez’s life, from birth to death. It’s a simplistic telling, full of inaccuracies, and devoid of feeling and anything else that might encourage young children to empathize with the struggles of agricultural workers in Chávez’s time and continuing today.

The narrative is flat and dry, telling young readers what to think. On the first page, for example, the Adlers describe young César’s life:

As a child, Cesar Chavez traveled with his family from one farm to the next to pick beans, broccoli, lettuce, and other crops. After a day in the fields, his back often ached. His hands were sore. Yet Chavez and others who helped put food on Americans’ tables often had no tables of their own, no real homes.

The assumptions here are that César Chávez was born poor, that he had no real home, and that he was not “American.”

But the Chávez family was not always poor—in fact, for the first ten years of his life, young César’s large extended family owned an 80-acre ranch, a grocery store and a gas station—and produced enough to feed themselves, stock the grocery store, and feed any homeless people who happened by. Yet, what’s written about and shown here is a dry, barren environment: three shacks with burlap taking the place of doors, six dead trees in the background, and an oil can to sit on. Chávez has been quoted as saying, “I had more happy moments as a child than unhappy moments,” yet young readers here see no happy moments, only textual and visual descriptions of extreme poverty.

On the next page, the authors write that “César’s father was often too busy to spend time with his family,” and an accompanying illustration depicts the Chávez children only with their mother. In truth, César’s father worked very hard and was actively involved in his children’s lives. While their mother taught them dichos to live by and the importance of kindness to those less fortunate than themselves, their father taught them about the values of honest work and standing up to discrimination.

Rather than deconstruct the entire book, I’ll mention just two other excerpts. In describing migrant agricultural labor, the Adlers write:

Cesar’s father soon found work for the family picking peas. They walked, bent over, between the rows of plants. For a full hamper—twenty-five pounds of peas—they earned twenty cents. When the work on that farm was done, the family moved on…. When the farm boss was especially unfair or when work conditions were especially bad, Cesar’s father said, “Okay, let’s go,” and they quit.

The assumption here is that, although agricultural workers’ jobs could be difficult, they were free to leave and could easily find other work. But, besides the difficulty and danger of the work itself, migrant agricultural workers had to deal with all kinds of abuse. While the Adlers’ use of terms such as “especially unfair” and “especially bad” minimize the situation for farm workers, Kathleen Krull, in Harvesting Hope, shows young readers how conditions really were:

As he worked, it disturbed him that landowners treated their workers more like farm tools than human beings. They provided no clean drinking water, rest periods, or access to bathrooms. Anyone who complained was fired, beaten up, or sometimes even murdered.[1]

And, in César: ¡Sí, Se puede! Yes, We Can!, Carmen Bernier-Grand paints a striking portrait of migrant agricultural work:

Lechuguero,

a lettuce thinner,

a man, a woman, or a child

who pulls off smaller plants

to make room for bigger plants—

the patron’s green gold.

Row after row,

César walked.

Stooped over, twisted,

clawing at the chuga

with el cortito,

a short-handled hoe.

No boots, just shoes

sinking in mud,

clay clinging to the soles.

Every day swathed in scarves

covering his nose and mouth.

Trying not to breathe,

trying not to swallow

the smelly spray blowing on him.

Armpits sweating,

back aching…aching…aching.

Too tired to feel the hunger.[2]

In discussing Chávez’s organizing work, the Adlers write:

In 1958, (Chávez) went to Oxnard and asked the farmworkers there to register and vote. They asked him, “Why is it we can’t get any jobs?” The jobs were going to workers from Mexico, who accepted lower pay.

What young readers will assume here is that Mexican workers came to steal jobs from the Mexican American farm workers. What really happened was this: From 1942 through 1964, the US brought in millions of manual laborers from Mexico to work the fields. These workers, known as “braceros,” were impoverished and exploitable, and the growers used them to depress labor wages. In Oxnard, young Chávez led a protracted faceoff with the fruit growers, who eventually caved and hired local workers. The Adlers’s simplistic description of the Oxnard struggle, by omitting this important information, blames the braceros for their own exploitation.

Olofsdotter’s illustrations, in ink and colored pencil on a subdued pallet, depict everyone as expressionless; they look frontward or sideward, never at each other. Even in the picture of César and Helen courting, they’re looking past each other, at a 45-degree angle! In one illustration, César, on a hunger strike, is sitting in an easy chair with a blanket over his knees. Helen is standing behind him, her hand on his shoulder. In front of them is a coffee table holding a pitcher of water. They appear to be inside. People are standing around, zombie-like. They appear to be outside. Yet, there are neither walls nor windows that would delineate inside from outside.

In a particularly egregious illustration, expressionless people look on as Chávez, weakened at the end of a long fast and supported by two farm workers, walks toward Robert Kennedy, who holds out a small loaf of bread. There are well-known photos of Chávez’s taking his first solid food after a 23-day fast in support of the farm worker strike against the Delano grape growers.[3] The photos depict both Chávez and Kennedy sitting in chairs next to each other. Their hands are touching as Kennedy offers Chávez a small piece of bread. The emotion is palpable. The effect of Olofsdotter’s version, however, is to distance young readers from, rather than bring them closer to, the people. I’d like to ask her why she did this.

While tiny figures of anonymous agricultural workers toil in the background, the cover shows César Chávez, wearing a tiny UFW button on a clean plaid shirt. His hands and face are clean; he is holding a large, clean basket filled with melons, lettuce, cauliflower, and bunches of grapes. Since agricultural workers harvest one crop at a time, this illustration may be symbolic of farm worker pride. But young children will not see—and teachers may very well overlook—the backbreaking labor and the struggle for human rights that continue today. A Picture Book of Cesar Chavez is not recommended.

—Beverly Slapin
(published 12/6/13)

---

[1] Kathleen Krull, Harvesting Hope: The Story of Cesar Chavez, illustrated by Yuyi Morales. Harcourt, 2003.

[2] Carmen T. Bernier-Grand, César: ¡Sí, Se puede! Yes, We Can!, illustrated by David Diaz. Marshall Cavendish, 2004.

[3] A copy of this photo can be found at art.com: http://www.art.com/products/p16719427819