I have to post this as the news is heartbreaking:

Hundreds of Farm Workers Evicted Following News Coverage.

Take Action Now!

Yesterday more than 100 migrant farm workers were living in an orchard. Tonight they have no place to go.

Why, you ask? These Washington state cherry pickers came to Shafter, California after being told by company representatives to come to Califronia for a job in the cherries. Consequently workers and their families traveled from Washington State to work at the Kyle Mathison Orchards. Kyle Mathison is part of the Wenatchee, Washington based Stemilt Growers Company—which, according to its web site, is the largest shipper of fresh-market sweet cherries in the world.

When these farm workers reached California, things were not as expected. A number of the workers were hired, but other workers were told to just wait and see if jobs were available. According to KERO 23 news, a farm worker said, "I came from Washington state. We came here to work, but they haven't treated us like they should and we're a little worried because we may not have enough money to go back to Washington."

While in Washington, some of the workers were informed that housing would be available to them when they got to California. However, when they got here there was no housing. They had no choice but to sleep in the fields. Some stayed in tents, others in cars and still others slept on cardboard or simply the dirt.

Workers complained of rashes from having to bathe in irrigation water. The KERO 23 news report quoted another worker as saying, "I asked where do we shower? And he said 'There's the water hole.' ... and there's ducks and fish! I asked, 'We shower there?! Where do the women shower?!' He said the same place."

When workers went public about being left out in the cold, things only got worse. Last night Bakersfield area television stations showed the workers’ bleak situation. Today, Stemilt company representatives' called the sheriffs to have the 100 plus workers and their property evicted from the orchard.

The workers who are currently working were told they would still be allowed on Monday—however they now have no place to live. The others have no place to live and no job—the company told them to still wait and see.

Stemilt says their core values include treating workers, growers and customers fairly. How is this fair?

Take action now. Tell Stemilt to provide housing for these out of state workers tonight, pay reasonable travel expenses and immediately hire the rest of the Washington workers instead of forcing them to wait and see.

Please visit www.ufwaction.org/campaign/cherryworkers/855dwu59a77teekj for more information.

Sunday, April 27
Downtown LA

It was hot as hell yesterday, but nothing keeps us Latinos from attending Fiesta Broadway year after year. Although waiting in line to spin for the chance to win silly prizes in 110-degree weather may sound stupid to some, for others the wait was worth plastic miscellaneous items that get thrown in the trash in a week. And who can resist free samples of Maria's Gamesa Cookies dipped in sweetened condensed milk? I should've.

The line for fresh cow's head was my personal favorite. Mmmmmm...tacos de lengua!!!!

And the kind firemen who attached a cool sprayer gadget to the fire hydrant on Hill Street get mad props. Had us LA folks coolin' off New York-style.

I give props when they're justifiably due so let's get this straight right quick: I was introduced to Joe Bataan by a Filipino cat from Norwalk (who shall remain anonymous for reasons of the past) whom I met at a graffiti party outside of Chinatown. We shared a mutual love for oldies music and next thing you know he burnt me a CD with some of Bataan's greatest cuts. I immediately fell in love with this OG Spanish Harlem-raised musician whose raspy and imperfect voice mixed messages of faith, love and peace from an eccentric Afro-Filipino point-of-view. He's also the king of Latin Soul; two genres of music I love most.

Experimenting with a plethora of styles, inlcuding Boogaloo, Rhythm & Blues, Salsa, Disco, Latin Funk, Latin R&B, Latin Jazz and even Rap, Bataan's past struggles as a youth incarcerated for 5 years, his late 60s success and mysterious 80s disappearance (some said he was dead), make this newly resurrected artist a true legend.

I had the honor of catching him this past weekend at the Lakewood Hop—a truly underrated venue for OGs, veteranos and soul-loving Latinos—where he performed a long and vibrant set to a crowd of fans who welcomed him with paz, amistad y solidaridad.

Walking into the venue, mi amor and I hit up the fan booth to peep the CDs they were selling before getting our drink on. To our right was a dining room where Bataan himself sat with best friend and band member Peter Quintero (on timbales and vocals) finishing up dinner. Bataan flagged us over to him and I tried to play it cool as not only a writer, but a huge fan. He was warm and kind and exhibited strong spiritual ties I felt connected with. I told him how relevant his words are even today and he smiled and asked if it were my first show. We walked off even more excited for him to perform.

The show was the best kept secret of the weekend. While most "down and brown" folks swamped LA vs War, another movement was taking place in South Los Angeles with the same message of peace and love. A 10-piece band accompanied Bataan which included music director Ray Poncin (trumpet), Jeff Raigosa (bass), George Fernandez, Jr. (guitar), Danny Santillan (drums), Tony Soliz (trombone), Larry Rendon (sax), Jose Arellano (piano), Victor Baez (congas), his wife Yvonne Nitollan (vocals and percussion) and the MC for the night Rocky Padilla (vocals).

Mi amor and I slow-danced cholo style (tightly hugged up against each other but barely moving) to "Mujer Mia", "My Cloud" and a "Sad Girl" cover. It was pure love; an innocent experience not felt since slow-dancing to Heatwave's "Always & Forever" back at middle school dances when teachers would come around and move the boy's hands off our asses.

Bataan brought the salsa out of us all with classics like "Latin Strut," "Chicana Lady," "When Sunny Gets Blue," and "Es Tu Cosa," while demonstrating his ability to still move a crowd on the dance floor. He also rocked "Good Ole Days," "The Prayer," "Gypsy Woman," "Under a Street Lamp," "Puerto Rico," and favorites "I Wish You Love (1 & 2)" and his signature "Ordinary Guy."

He gave constant shout-outs to La Raza in LA who have always had his back and to struggling people everywhere. He passed out fliers before he got on stage for fans to have autographed after and took dedications on paper throughout the evening. Unfortunately, MC Rocky Padilla, forgot to read mine ("Young, Gifted and Brown" to my boo Rolando). He shared the stage with his wife Yolanda and local musicians.

From his BIO:

Born Peter Nitollano, Bataan ran with Puerto Rican gangs and absorbed R&B, Afro-Cuban and Afro-Rican musical influences. His music career followed a pair of stints in Coxsackie State Prison. Self taught on the piano, he organized his first band in 1965 and scored his first recording success in 1967 with “Gypsy Woman” on Fania Records. The tune was a hit with the New York Latin market despite the English lyrics sung by Joe, and exemplified the nascent Latin Soul sound. In early anticipation of the disco formula, “Gypsy Woman” created dance energy by alternating what was fundamentally a pop-soul tune with a break featuring double timed hand claps. Joe would take this tendency even further on his influential Salsoul, which fused funk and latin influences in slick yet soulful orchestrations. The LP embodied the artist’s highly deliberate and culturally aware musical concept. Bataan theorized the 70s next big thing as a hybrid: an Afro Cuban rhythm section playing Brazilian influenced patterns over orchestral funk. His vision was on the money, but mainstream stardom would elude him. His biggest commercial move was a Salsoul production released under the Epic umbrella, and promoted to the new disco market as Afrofilipino, which included 1975’s “The Bottle”, a much anthologized classic that drives an R&B horn arrangement with a relentless piano montuno.

Always in touch with the streets, Bataan picked up on rap very early in the game. His hit “Rap-O, Clap-O” was a bit more successful in Europe than in the States, and is remembered as rap’s debut in the European market. Nevertheless, his legacy remains his gritty and realistic Latin soul lyrics, his self identification as an “Ordinary Guy”, and his highly personal and prophetic merge of Latin and soul influences.

You can catch Joe Bataan online at www.myspace.com/joebataan and www.joebataan.net. He performs at George Fernandez Presents "Cinco De Mayo Dance Show" on Sunday, May 4 at The Crazy Horse, 1360 W. Garvey Ave. (South) West Covina, 562-929-7566, www.go2crazyhorse.com Tickets, $20 advance; $25 at door; $40 VIP.

Sometimes the best things in life are those which we don't ask for; they just come to us. Such was my experience last night when my mom invited me last minute to a Frida Kahlo event taking place at Cal State Long Beach. She received complimentary tickets from a friend who's only request was to invite those who appreciate Kahlo's life even after death. Translation: me and my sister; two traditional/non-traditional Chicana feminists/girly girls who dig art and celebrating life even in the harshest environments like our homegirl Frida.

I was expecting a small little mixer with the usual wine, cheese and crackers and some dope Kahlo art hanging on the walls, but when we walked into a giant and packed Richard and Karen Carpenter (yes, of The Carpenters) theatre two ballerinas were doing their thing onstage. I checked my ticket stub to make sure it really was a Frida Kahlo event we waked into. After becoming way too envious of the two perfect female and male bodies performing in front of an audience consisting of diverse-aged artsy types, Gregorio Luke took to the stage to give the two ballerinas who came all the way from Mexico City their props.

And so began a world renown lecture by Luke, former director of the Museum of Latin American Art (MoLAA). His presence was immediately engaging and his knowledge on the subject of Mexican artists, especially Frida, was impressive. On a large screen behind him was amplified versions of the occasionally rare video footage, real snapshot photography of Frida, Diego (the love of her life), Trotsky, her family and, of course, her complex art; one of which reminded me of a horrible dream I had the night before.

While hungirly digesting the blown up images in front of me, many of which were art depicting a bleeding body, fetus and mind, I couldn't help but reflect on my nightmare:

I dreamt my aunt pulled up to my mom and dad's house in an old-school Chevy, parked the car and came around to open the backdoor behind the passenger's seat. When she flung it open, I saw my dad laid out in a sea of blood caused by a gunshot to the head. I lost it. I went crazy. The even crazier part was that no one reacted except me; no one seemed to care. Everyone just shrugged it off, believing he put himself out of misery. I couldn't believe it. I felt stone cold for being related to these people and the sad thing was I was starting to adopt their mannerisms. I cried, but no tears came out. I screamed, but nothing was vocalized. I was fast becoming apathetic to the whole thing just like everyone else. I was so depressed, but in a sick way I craved the sympathy.

I pondered this sick dream while looking at Frida's morbidly realistic work. I love Frida for her imagination, her originality, her Mestiza pride, and for allowing me to wake up from my dream and not be afraid to face reality. Throughout all the physical pain she had to endure after getting a medal rod jammed up her in a trolley accident, her multiple miscarriages, her amputated leg, Frida was known for never complaining about her pain; never seeking sympathy. She was a strong woman and that's why I love Frida. I awoke from a painful dream of me being the victim and made a decision to choose life; not the sad state I've been in as of late.

In the words of the last painting Frida did of watermelons: Viva Frida!

Upcoming lectures by Gregorio Luke include "Performing Arts of Mexico", Sat. April 12 at 11 a.m. Free; "Jesus, His Life in Art", Fri., April 18, 6:30 to 8 p.m.; "Mexican Music", Sat., April 19,
11 a.m. to 12:30 p.m. Mexican Cultural Institute, 125 Paseo de la Plaza, Suite 101, Olvera Street, 213-624-3660, www.myspace.com/mexicanculturalinstitute.

We can't afford to help you out, Hillary




By Ramón Rentería / El Paso Times
Article Launched: 04/06/2008 12:00:00 AM MDT

Dear Sen. Clinton:

As you know, the pundits and naysayers on TV and Internet bloggers made a big deal of the unfortunate fact you fell behind in paying campaign bills.

What's up with that, loca?

They said you fell behind in making health-care payments for your campaign staff and that you owe more than 8 million bucks. Híjole!

None of us en la frontera owe such an astronomical sum, not even to our ex-wives. We're just thankful that our gasoline is cheaper than California's and a little worried that Sears might repossess the water heater.

Some of us out here can no longer afford to help our children pay for college or even fix our broken SUVs. But don't let those economics geeks fool you into thinking that we're in a recession.

We're simply broke.

The last time you dropped by El Paso, you promised you would reform the immigration mess, fix the battered economy and blah, blah, blah.

Even the little charro rider, who handed you a bouquet of flowers, seemed enchanted with all the promises.

Why didn't you tell us that your campaign finances were so messed up? You know that Texans and Mexicans always look out for family (or at least pretend until the child-support collector taps on our doors).

You seemed so confident that you would grab more delegates and popular votes and make history as the first woman nominated for president.

Bill came around here twice, shook our hands, gave us the thumbs up and winked at us. He and Chelsea assured us that you, la Hillary Rodham
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Clinton, would lead us out of the Republican pit into the light.

Imagine how shocked we were when the headlines said your campaign is running on financial fumes.

Please don't say it's running on hope because those idiots on national TV will accuse you of stealing lines from Sen. Barack Obama.

Now, that Speaker of the House chick Pelosi is hinting that the Democrats can offer a viable ticket in November the sooner you exit the race.

Mathematically, Obama appears to be the nominee. That's what CNN said.

How can you keep punching every day when even Barbara Walters is making goo-goo eyes at your opponent? Did Barbara ever flirt with you or call you sexy?

You can always count on El Paso's support even if you lose the rest of the country. You should have seen the Democrats squabbling over you at the county convention. Some wags called it a circus. The Obama forces weren't too happy with how the rules were interpreted.

Tell Chelsea we're proud of how she zapped those stupid questions about Monica Lewinsky. And stop comparing yourself to Rocky; he never spoke too clearly.

Wish we could bail you out by donating our Bush rebate checks to help pay those obnoxious campaign bills.

But it's really hard to part with Bush rebate money already pledged to that spiffy stainless-steel barbecue grill that's been winking at us all these months, you know.

Like the cholos say, don't let no one get you down, girl.

We love underdogs.

Ramón Rentería may be reached at rrenteria@elpasotimes.com; 546-6146.
www.elpasotimes.com/ci_8826175?source=email

In an effort to make ignorant Americans feel safe, Congress gave Homeland Security Secretary Michael Chertoff the power to waive federal law in order to have that stupid 670-mile border fence being built along the southern U.S. border completed by the end of this year. What kind of BS is this? There are innocent people dying in a war that's in our country's name and all the government cares about is building a fence to deter Mexicans from returning to their homeland and working their asses off at a Car Wash they don't receive a pay check from, but might get lucky and be tipped by some lazy ass who can't stand driving a dirty car, but wouldn't even think about washing it themselves.

For the LA Times story, check out www.latimes.com/news/nationworld/nation/la-na-fence2apr02,0,5819252.story. Make sure to read the Discussion at the end of the article. Some of those comments made me so angry, I pretty much cussed a bunch of Mexican-hating readers out. Sucks that editors at the Times don't have the balls to post said comments.

Please support the grassroots effort of the Cesar E. Chavez National Holiday Coalition by signing a petition to make Cesar E. Chavez Day a national holiday.

Cesar was, in Sen. Robert F. Kennedy's words, "One of the heroic figures of our time." He led the historic non-violent movement for farm worker rights and dedicated himself to building a movement of poor working people that extended beyond the fields and into cities and towns across the nation.

He inspired farm workers and millions of people who never worked on a farm to commit themselves to social, economic and civil rights activism. Cesar's legacy, like the legacy of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., continues to educate, inspire and empower people from all walks of life. He is a role model for all Americans and for generations to come.

Please help ensure all Americans learn about Cesar's life and work. The Cesar Chavez National Holiday Coalition is gathering signatures on petitions asking Congress to designate March 31, Cesar's birthday and the day the UFW was founded, as Cesar Chavez Day. Sign the petition today. Help ensure Cesar's legacy is recognized and celebrated throughout our nation with a federal paid holiday and a day of service and learning in our public schools.

Sign the petition at www.ufwaction.org/campaign/chavezholiday?rk=RpxiCK91PuWDW.

I gave up drinking for Lent; well technically three days after Ash Wednesday, but who's counting? Okay, I am.

This is the longest I've gone without a drink since alcohol became a necessary evil in my life back in college; a stress reliever and social enabler of sorts.

I started to really like wine after college and justified the 6 or 8 glasses per week with reports that it was good for the heart. But we all know moderation is key to these findings and with Indian blood flowing through my veins, alcohol acts as the white man's poison sometimes.

I've had the usual black-outs in High School and college from too much partying, ended up in the hospital after taking shots on an empty stomach, and just plain acted a fool after one too many. So drinking has kinda been something I've struggled with.

Which is why I made the conscious decision to cleanse my body and soul by giving it up cold turkey for Lent. It's been easier than I thought. Besides the craving for Cabernet at dinner with my man, I don't really miss it at all. Instead, I feel more clearheaded, less scatter-brained and generally healthier. I think I even dropped a few pounds too.

I'm not a crazy bible belt or anything, just a baptized Catholic at peace with God, Jah, the Creator, Allah, or whatever you call the holy spirit. I'm at peace with myself thanks to prayer and a newfound sense of faith.

Come Easter, I may celebrate with a glass of my favorite vino, but trust I won't have more than 3 glasses. Everything in moderation, a goal I'm trying hard to attain.

What happened to the Latino vote for Senator Barack Obama here in El Pueblo de Nuestra Señora la Reina de los Ángeles de Porciúncula (aka LA)? As a third-generation Chicana/Angelena, I’m confused by numbers that reveal a lack of unity between the brown and black community in this city. I find myself pondering exit polls, articles, and statistics and wonder if the low number of Latinos who voted for Obama was another miscount in the voting system meant to further divide two major groups of color in order to keep us both down.

These past couple weeks have been both professionally and personally exhausting. Who should I vote for? Will she or he come through for the people? Will we really see change if there’s a Democrat back in office or will we continue to be fed lies? A registered Green Party-turned-Democrat (in time, thank God), these questions cause me to lose sleep because for the first time in my life I feel our country has been given the opportunity to redeem itself through positive transformation by pulling out of Iraq and mending the crucial state of the economy here at home. I was fortunate enough to witness history last week as Senators Obama and Clinton gave their final shout-outs at the Kodak Theatre, an event that answered many of my questions, including ‘Why Obama?’ and ‘Why not Clinton?’

In an effort to offset my carbon footprints and avoid road rage (something I struggle with whenever I venture West) at possibly the biggest event of ’08 in LA, I took Metro from my Echo Park abode to Hollywood and Highland. Aloof and wide-eyed tourists snapped shots of whatever they thought was taking place on that bright, brisk Thursday along the Walk of Fame. And even though it wasn't the Oscars, it’s Hollywood and attracted its own celebrity entourage, including America Ferrera, Brandy, Stevie Wonder, Isaiah Washington, and Steven Spielberg.

When I got off the bus, a huge banner draped above the entrance to the Kodak Theatre greeted me: Live from LA: The Democratic Presidential Debate on CNN. A multicultural crowd rallied passionately along the sidewalk between Mann’s Chinese Theatre and the Gap; the majority of which were students showing love for Obama. A middle-aged white man stood solo at the corner of Hollywood Boulevard shouting at passersby to watch the debate and vote on Tuesday.

Zigzagging through the progressive pack that carried late-60s and 70s revolutionary-style posters with Obama’s image and the word ‘hope’ printed at the bottom—which were later pasted onto metal traffic signal control boxes at various street corners in Downtown and Echo Park on Super Tuesday—I had flashbacks of protesting the war in Iraq in the Mission District as a Journalism major at San Francisco State (circa 2003).

I arrived at the press check-in booth situated outside the Kodak around 11 a.m., giving myself ample time to digest the fresh breath of activism the two contenders inspired outside. Four LAPD officers and a dog sniffed out my bags to make sure I wasn't carrying drugs, explosives, or a gun on my person. I proudly put my press badge around my neck, walked through a metal detector and had one more officer feel me up before finally entering what CNN and Politico’s itinerary called the Spin Room. On two separate floors located directly outside a tightly guarded debate hall were rows and rows of desks with power strips on top that gave life to the press’s laptops. Widescreen HD TVs streamed live CNN pre-debate coverage from outside the Kodak, where the overzealous Wolf Blitzer politicked with panelists that included Washington bureau chief of the Los Angeles Times’ Doyle McManus.

What a trip that just the year before I was tray passing hors d'oeuvres I couldn't pronounce at the Oscars as a caterer for Wolfgang Puck. God it felt good to not be wearing tuxedo pants, a starched buttoned-down shirt, manly tie, and apron. And no, I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing one of Clinton’s boring signature pantsuits either. Today I proudly sported a black high-waisted skirt, pinstriped shirt, and my lucky red heels, which because of the unusually cold weather was all hidden underneath a tan trench coat in order to fit the part. I recited in my head what I’d say if discovered by one of my former Wolfgang co-workers, but they’d never recognize me out of uniform looking like a woman.

I quickly set up camp (my laptop and notebook) at a seat designated for someone from ABC.com since mine was nowhere to be found and it was bad enough I already felt like Ugly Betty on her first day at Mode magazine. I went back outside, where the real party was at, equipped with digital recorder and camera. A man I recognized from different hip-hop shows around town sold Obama T-shirts on the sidewalk and spit rhymes through a loudspeaker. He told me his name was Tony B. Curious and represents a contingent called Hip Hoppers for Obama. "Run and tell your mama…you're votin’ for Obama," he rapped.

I walked over to the Coffee Bean at the corner of Orange and Hollywood to meet my homeboy Nick Occhipinti who flew in from San Francisco that morning to cover the debate for Voto Latino, a non-partisan organization founded by Rosario Dawson that encourages Latinos to vote. He expressed his frustration with fellow San Francisco State students who didn’t feel it necessary to skip class and make the drive down south to witness this historic day.

Living in the age of technology and identifying with the hip-hop generation, Occhipinti and I agree that activism today is largely being conducted online; the days of student protests and walkouts are sadly long gone. Up on game, Voto Latino reaches out to young people through cell phone text messaging and social networking sites like MySpace and Facebook. Actor Wilder Valderrama and Reggaeton artist Pitbull are just a few of the mainstream faces helping to appeal to young pop culture vultures.

Carrying two boxes of voter registration forms with him at all times, Occhipinti has registered over 1,000 voters since he became affiliated with Voto Latino back in 2004.
According to Maria Teresa Petersen, executive director of Voto Latino, 50,000 Latinos turn 18 every month in the US and 87% of them are eligible to vote. In what seems to be a tug-of-war with the armed forces for Latino recruitment, Voto Latino reaches out to the youth by speaking a tongue they understand: “It’s your country. Represent!”

Leading the pack of popular online political messengers, hip hop artist Will.i.am’s “Yes We Can” video—directed by Bob Dylan’s son Jesse Dylan—succeeded at circulating on the net to almost everyone I know. An acoustic guitar backs up actors and artists, including Adam Rodriguez (CSI: Miami), Tatyana Ali (Fresh Prince of Bel Air), John Legend, and Scarlett Johansson, as they recite fragments of Obama’s primary speech in New Hampshire. Cesar Chavez’s “Sí Se Puede” chant provides the chorus for this black and white tear-jerker.

I headed back to the Spin Room around 4 p.m. when members of the media finally started pouring in. In a sea of white journalists I felt unexpectedly awkward. Maybe it was my own guilty conscious for ripping off the 8½ × 11 inch white piece of paper that reserved someone else’s seat. But in my heart I knew this familiar feeling stemmed from the fact that I was one of only about 5 journalists of color in the bunch.

The ethnic makeup of press at the Kodak that evening made me further question the obvious lack of diversity in opinion in just about everything published in this town. I could only imagine what the Reagan Library looked like the night before; probably even less diverse. An Asian man with a thick accent who worked in the Kodak’s maintenance department must’ve sensed my angst. He let me in on the little secret that box lunches were upstairs. He boasted that he was part of a union but chose not to state who he was going to vote for when I asked him.

While munching on my former employer’s gourmet smoked ham sandwich, I watched as LAPD and FBI agents from the Hazmat department did their final run through of the area before the debate got started. CNN wrapped up their live coverage outside with the arrival of Mayor Antonio Villaraigosa, who just months earlier came out in support of Clinton. I was surprised when he challenged Blitzer’s claim that Latinos weren’t going to vote for Obama, saying that although the Latino and Black community have differences in opinion from time to time, they work well together.

I couldn’t agree more with the Mayor. I felt overwhelmingly proud as I stared into the TV screen and watched Obama take to the Kodak stage for a debate that would decide California’s lean for president. Wearing a simple lavender tie, white collared shirt and black suit, his appeal to college-age women is understandable; the man’s fine. Clinton wore the usual pantsuit—but this time in brown—and created accents with turquoise necklace and earrings and burnt orange lipstick, possibly to attract the brown vote.

The debate itself wasn’t as exciting as expected. It was, however, the first time I ever heard a presidential candidate mention East LA, the ‘hood I was born. Speaking about his plan to restore our imbalanced economy, Obama said he would ensure that those who can afford to dish out a little more in taxes would do so that the child stuck in a poorly-funded school in East LA could have equal access to the American Dream. Now that’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout!

The two “firsts” flirted with questions about the difference between their politics, whose healthcare plan is superior, being labeled “tax-and-spend liberal Democrats”, the so-called negative economic impact of immigration on the African-American community (which Obama called “scapegoating”), withdrawing from Iraq, and illegal immigrants being given driver’s licenses (you’d think Obama approving that alone would’ve given him the Latino vote).

The theme of the night was first instincts, which Obama clearly has over Clinton. Before the U.S. invaded Iraq, Clinton had every opportunity to vote for the Levin amendment, which required President Bush to report to Congress about the U.N. inspection before taking military action, but instead she voted against it, and for that, she’ll forever be regretful. How many US soldiers have been killed in Iraq since the 2003 invasion again? Oh that’s right, about 4,000. Blitzer’s final question to both candidates about their thoughts on the now infamous dream ticket was laughed off and simply called premature.

Maybe it’s Obama’s history as a grassroots organizer and his for-the-people speeches that do it for me. Or is it that I believe the eyes are the windows to the soul and something about his tell me he’s for real? All I know is that never before have I felt so excited about the possibility of having a president change the course of this country. And although the exit polls claim Obama appealed to the polar opposite of Clinton's Latino backing—the young, the affluent, the African-American—I believe there’s a deeper truth just waiting to be revealed.

I can’t deny that Clinton mastered the art of Latino seduction. Her Web site features a Spanish-language video that attracts first generation Latinos and newly arrived immigrants. A Hispanic Heritage Month clip starring Clinton herself shows off her ability to kiss brown ass as she consciously alternates between the labels ‘Latino’ and ‘Hispanic.’ Smart. Her lineup of Latino endorsements is impressive: revolutionary labor activist Dolores Huerta, Chavez’s grandson Cesar L. Chavez, and my personal favorite America Ferrera (snaps!). Yet exit polls can’t possibly account for everyone who voted this past Tuesday. I sure didn’t take one and neither did any Latinos I know.

So the more I examine the claim that us brown folks aren’t down with the black community enough to want an African American for president, the less I buy into it. I know we have a long way to go in LA as a unified brown and black community (the recent violence in Monrovia proves this), but looking at my 17-year-old sister’s generation, I see solidarity between blacks and browns. Conflicts stem from our parent’s and grandparent’s old-school way of thinking that white is right. Back in the day, it was a survival technique to outdo the other minority, but as uprisings during the civil rights movement prove, the Brown Berets drew inspiration from The Black Panthers. And thanks to hip-hop, the 80s and 90s created even more unity between blacks and browns. Today, we continue to be one in the struggle for equal access to healthcare, education, and jobs. As a 28-year-old woman, I’ve lived and been in love with brown, yellow, white and black.

So yes, I voted for Barack Obama as did many of my Latino compañeros. Even though we weren’t the majority that won him the California vote, we have nine months to share with others Obama’s dream of a changed America that will benefit us all.

Kamren Curiel is the Web Editor for RealTALKLA.com and Director of Public Relations for Kolor Graphics Bureau. She recently joined the fight to keep bacon-wrapped hot dogs alive and pumping grease into our bloodstream via the streets.