The news of the abuse of women and children by César Chávez came as a shock to many—especially to those of us who had invested so much of our lives, our hopes, and our sacrifices in the success of the United Farm Workers.
Faced with these horrifying headlines and the painful details now emerging, the UFW and the César Chávez Foundation made the difficult but necessary decision to cancel the national celebrations traditionally held on March 31 to honor César’s birthday.
Like many others, I joined the union as a young dreamer searching for justice and freedom. In 1970, I began my journey as a full-time organizer, earning five dollars a week in wages and ten dollars for food. Thousands of us sacrificed deeply to win union contracts and to build what felt like a foundation of hope.
Joining the union changed my life. I stopped selling drugs. I got rid of the two pistols I owned—guns I once believed I might use against my enemies. Through the movement, I learned that love was stronger than hate, and that nonviolence could become my path toward healing.
César died in 1993. By 1994, I became the founding director of the César E. Chávez Foundation.
As a human rights activist, I have witnessed many movements where leaders abused the power entrusted to them. Still, reading that César abused UFW cofounder Dolores Huerta, and that he abused children in the 1970s, was devastating—hard to read, harder to absorb.
Over the years, I had written more than once that César was neither a god nor a saint. I challenged him and the union on several issues and came close to being fired more than once for doing so. I believed then, as I do now, that movements must allow for truth, dissent, and accountability.
I hope that all who were abused can now feel safe enough to come forward. And when they do, we must meet them not with doubt or defensiveness, but with love, respect, and a genuine commitment to help them heal. In doing so, perhaps we may also find a way to heal ourselves.
Dolores Huerta struggled for decades as a powerful woman leader within a movement dominated by men and burdened by a heavy cloud of machismo. More than twenty years ago, she left the UFW and founded the Dolores Huerta Foundation, creating a new and vibrant home where young people—especially young girls and women—could organize, grow, and flourish. At nearly 96 years old, she remains a face of freedom for so many.
The UFW built a national movement that empowered farmworkers and their allies to confront large growers and their right-wing supporters. Through boycotts of lettuce and grapes, the union won contracts that transformed lives. Activists like myself learned how to organize, challenge a racist system, and fight for justice without violence. The sacrifices were immense—and many of us continue that fight for human rights to this day.
Now, efforts are already underway to remove César’s name from buildings and schools. This moment is painful not only for the movement, but for the Chávez family, and especially for the victims who have come forward. We should not be surprised if more victims emerge.
As we move forward, we must ensure that the rights of young girls and women are protected, and that our response to victims and their families is thoughtful, compassionate, and just.
The enemies of the union—of Chávez, of farmworkers, of Mexican Americans—will call for a public lynching and the total destruction of a movement that, despite its flaws, has accomplished profound good. We must not allow their hatred to define this moment.
Instead, we must commit ourselves to honest leadership and to building safeguards that protect everyone, without exception.
Many of us will feel anger, disappointment, and regret. We will search for the rainbow we so desperately need right now.
They say that when one star disappears, it makes room for three others to appear.
