Page 86 of And Still Her Voice
“Like what?” I asked.
“The sexism. The machismo. If I wanted that, I could stay home with my father and my brothers. The men treat us worse than nothings, worse than the pigs treat us.”
“Well, Teddie, I appreciate you. And the others do, too. They just need to be taught,” Ruben said. “Just be patient.”
“I don’t have time for that shit. There’s so much work to do. It’s a wonder their mothers taught them how to wipe their own colas.”
“Teddie and some of the other girls helped start the free clinic. They got the doctors, equipment, volunteers, and the labs,” Ruben said.
“There’s nothing we can’t do. That’s the easy part. The hardest part’s going into the community to introduce the clinic to the people. They’re afraid of the Brown Berets.”
“Why?” I asked.
“We’re looked at as a militant group. And there’s been some trouble with the police. Like I said, the pigs are out for us.”
Ruben parked his Chevy up the street from the coffee shop, which looked dark from the outside. “The police like to make their house calls every once in a while, so we keep the lights off,” Teddie whispered.
I could feel all eyes tracking me as we inched into a dark room. Eventually my eyes adjusted. A few young men had gathered around a table. I followed my cousin to a back little room like a kitchen where there was some light but no windows. A couple of girls stood off to the side sizing me up and down. And then one of the girls, slim with long black hair and steely dark eyes, blocked us as we made our way to the coffee pot brewing on the stove. “Who’s the güera impersonating a Mexican?” she asked. I clutched my left braid.
“She is Mexican, half,” Teddie said. “She’s my cousin, Anna.”
The girl, arching a thin eyebrow, put a hand on her hip.
“Don’t be stupid,” my cousin said. “My aunt married a gringo.”
Once again, I felt out of place wishing my skin was less pink.
“You sure she’s not a snitch for the pigs?” a big-boned woman asked as she walked in to wait for the coffee still percolating.
“And how do we know you’re not one?” Ruben asked moving in, cup in hand.
“Funny, pendejo,” the woman said.
Teddie walked up to the woman who was even taller than she. “Gloria, this is my cousin, Anna. Anna, this is our female minister, Gloria Arellanes.”
“Nice to meet you.” I curtsied as if I were meeting royalty.
Gloria didn’t have time for me and seized the pot of coffee, taking it with her into the front room. Ruben followed with his empty cup and joined the other men. I followed my cousin and stood silently, back against the wall with the other girls as the men discussed what seemed to be some serious political stuff.
“Hey, after you’re done pouring coffee . . .” the male leader said to Gloria.
“Hay is for horses, cabron,” she responded, pulling the coffee pot away. Teddie quickly stepped up to take the carafe from her.
“Sorry,” the leader said, sounding not sorry at all. “Anyway, we need a letter to LAPD asking for permission so we can march down the streets of East LA.”
Gloria, surrounded by a bunch of macho males, took a seat. She then took notes, scribbling away like a glorified secretary, and then I saw lights flashing across the front window like a shooting star.
“Quiet. Down,” the leader whispered loudly, everyone dropping onto the floor, duck and cover, like a nuclear attack drill.
My heart dropped faster than I fell to my knees. I crawled toward the back and Teddie grabbed my arm, stopping me. “They’re just checking.” And then a light beamed into the shop through the closed blinds. I sprang up ready to run, like I had from my home, like I had from Diggers, like I’d been doing for a few years now.
“No. They’re probably at the back door, too,” Teddie said. “Stay still.”
Forget about duck and cover, we were sitting ducks. I’d been arrested in Philadelphia and even thrown in jail, but there was no guarantee that I’d be released this time. Besides my cousin and Ruben, I had no idea who these people were or what they’d done. I knew some of them had already been in trouble with the law for such things as breaking curfew and protesting and I’d be guilty just by association.
After some time, Ruben rose out of a crouch and tiptoed to the front where he looked out a peephole in the front door. “They’re gone.” He held a penlight up to check his watch. Six o’clock shift change, probably headed home for a nice turkey dinner.”
Everyone returned to what they were doing. “Teddie bring us some more coffee,” the leader said.
