4 This Is no Slum

4 This Is no Slum - “This Is No Slum!”

Info iconThis preview shows page 1. Sign up to view the full content.

View Full Document Right Arrow Icon
This is the end of the preview. Sign up to access the rest of the document.

Unformatted text preview: “This Is No Slum!” A Critical Race Theory Analysis of Community  Cultural Wealth in Culture Clash’s Chavez Ravine Tara J. Yosso and David G. García AbstrAct: Drawing on a critical race theory framework, this article weaves together sociology, education, history, and performance studies to challenge deficit interpretations of Pierre Bourdieu’s cultural capital theory and to analyze Culture Clash’s play Chavez Ravine. The play recounts a decade of Los Angeles history through the perspectives of displaced Mexican American families from three former neighborhoods of Chavez Ravine. Culture Clash’s performance recovers and personifies the community cultural wealth cultivated by these families. This multifaceted portfolio of cultural assets and resources includes aspirational, linguistic, social, navigational, familial, and resistant capital. Chavez Ravine affirms the continuity of Chicana/o communities, utilizing culture as a source of strength that facilitates survival and nurtures resistance. Manazar:  I  want  to  talk  about  this  photograph  right  here.  (Manazar points to the photo hovering above him.) I see uncles, primas, I see my sister,  mira, there’s Joe Guerra and his brother Johnny, I see Father Tomas. See  that morenito kid right there in the middle? That’s me with my carnal,  they used to call me Nonio. . . . If you look closely at the photo, some  of  the  señoras  are  wearing  army  hats,  and  on  the  hats  are  little  stars.  Those little stars are for their sons and daughters who were away—over  there—serving their country. Some of the fellas never made it back. My  neighbors were Italians, Slavs, Russians, and some Germans but for the  most part, era pura Mexicanada, puro frijol. And on holidays, pura aroma  de tamal y menudo, y los compadres tocando la guitarra til late at night.  That  was  our  community;  that’s  something  you  can  never  erase  from  your cabeza. (27–28)1 This  excerpt  from  the  2003  play  Chavez Ravine  by  the  Chicano-Latino  t   heater  group  Culture  Clash  introduces  the  history  of  the  former  Los  Aztlán: A Journal of Chicano Studies 32:1  Spring 2007    © University of California Regents 145 Yosso and García Angeles community of Chavez Ravine.2 In remembering the three neighborhoods of the Ravine, the play takes a perspective that is very different  from  the  view  shared  by  many  social  scientists  and  historians.  Through  the  play,  Culture  Clash  unapologetically  provides  a  critical,  revisionist  historical  account  of  institutional  racism,  cultural  resilience,  and  community resistance. For us, this theatrical approach parallels the academic  insights of critical race theory (CRT). Indeed, our appreciation of Culture  Clash’s deliberate emphasis on race and culture leads us to examine their  play Chavez Ravine using a CRT lens. The play’s narrator, Manazar (played by Herbert Siguenza), represents  the late poet Manazar Gamboa, who lived in the Chavez Ravine neighborhood of Bishop. He invites the audience to visualize Chavez Ravine,  beginning in the early 1900s when immigrant families from Mexico built  their homes in these hills north of downtown Los Angeles.3 Against a backdrop of enlarged black-and-white pictures hanging above the stage, Manazar  fondly reconstructs this predominantly Mexican community so audiences  can  begin  to  understand  what  was  lost  in  the  destruction  of  the  three  neighborhoods—La Loma, Bishop, and Palo Verde—that made up Chavez  Ravine. As he notes the mothers’ hats commemorating World War II soldiers, Manazar places this community as “American,” yet he code-switches  back  and  forth  from  English  to  Spanish  to  describe  the  predominantly  Mexican, economically poor, but culturally wealthy community.4  The economic poverty evident in these neighborhoods in the late  1940s  led  the  City  of  Los  Angeles  to  condemn  Chavez  Ravine  as  a  “slum” and to plan a major public housing project, Elysian Park Heights,  to  clear  the  “blight”  (Avila  2004,  156,  164).  Historian  Ronald  Lopez  explains that this “‘blighted area within a mile of downtown’ represented  a ‘problem’ to advocates of urban redevelopment and public housing, [yet]  to the Mexican immigrants, Mexican Americans, and other people who  Tara J. Yosso is assistant professor in the Department of Chicana/o Studies at the University  of  California,  Santa  Barbara.  Her  work  addresses  educational  access  and  equity  through  the  frameworks  of  critical  race  theory  and  critical  media  literacy.  She  analyzes  Chicana/o  experiences navigating from elementary through graduate school in her book  Critical Race Counterstories Along the Chicana/Chicano Educational Pipeline (Routledge, 2006). DaviD G. García earned his Ph.D. in U.S. history from the University of California, Los  Angeles, in 2006. Utilizing an interdisciplinary cultural history approach, García’s dissertation documents the evolution of the Chicano-Latino performance group Culture Clash and  their  politically  inspired  critical race theater.  His  research  and  teaching  examine  historical  continuities of Chicana/o communities, popular culture, identity, and resistance to oppression  within the United States. 146 Community Cultural Wealth in Culture Clash’s Chavez Ravine lived there, it represented a home and a refuge from a hostile and racist  society”  (1999,  9).  We  argue  that  institutionalized  racism  contributed  to the destruction of the three neighborhoods, specifically because city  officials failed to “see” the cultural wealth present in these communities.5  Our collaboration here uses CRT as an analytical framework that affirms  the continuity of community cultural wealth in its many forms within  Chicana/o communities.  Inspired  by  the  transdisciplinary  tradition  of  Chicana/o  studies,  we  weave together our work in sociology, education, history, and performance  studies  to  demonstrate  how  Culture  Clash’s  Chavez Ravine  reveals  the  community cultural wealth that went unrecognized in these Los Angeles  neighborhoods. Specifically, the play exhibits at least six forms of “capital”  that make up this community’s cultural wealth. We also find that the play  itself  personifies  community  cultural  wealth  in  reclaiming  a  history  of  resistance against oppression from the perspectives of Mexican Americans  in general and Mexican American women in particular. We begin with an  introduction to CRT as a framework that effectively challenges cultural  deficit  approaches  by  acknowledging  a  continuity  of  cultural  assets  and  resources fostered in Chicana/o communities. Critical Race Theory CRT questions the purpose and methods of academic inquiry by shifting  the  research  lens  to  focus  on  People  of  Color,  recounting  history  from  the perspectives of those at the margins of society, and mobilizing toward  positive social change. Because we have noticed CRT recently surfacing  as a catchall phrase or buzzword to describe any scholarship that mentions  race, we take a moment here to outline its historical antecedents and our  use of this framework.  As an outgrowth from critical legal studies in the 1980s, critical race  scholarship sought to recognize the dignity in the lives and experiences  of those “at the bottom of society’s well” (Bell 1992, v). This conscious  validation of society’s marginalized voices, which are rarely considered in  mainstream  history  and  social  science  research,  reverberates  in  feminist  and ethnic studies scholarship (hooks 1990).6 Over the last decade, CRT  scholars in schools of education have built on the strength of this progressive scholarship to examine and challenge the ways that race and racism  impact  social  structures,  practices,  and  discourses.  Acknowledging  some  of CRT’s  intellectual  origins in academic and activist  traditions  such as  147 Yosso and García Chicana/o  studies,  educational  sociologist  Daniel  G.  Solórzano  (1997)  identifies at least five themes that characterize this framework: 1. The intercentricity of race and racism with other forms of subordination. CRT begins with an examination of how race has been  socially constructed in U.S. history and how the system of racism functions to oppress People of Color while privileging whites (Barnes 1990;  Bell 1987; Matsuda 1991; Russell 1992). Scholars have expanded CRT  discussions to focus on racism’s intersections with other forms of subordination based on gender, class, sexuality, language, immigrant status, and  surname (see, for example, Arriola 1997, 1998; Crenshaw 1989, 1993;  Delgado and Stefancic 2000, 2001; Espinoza 1990, 1998; Montoya 1994;  Valdes 1997, 1998).  2. The challenge to dominant ideology. CRT challenges notions of  “neutral” research or “objective” researchers and exposes deficit-informed  historical  accounts  that  silence,  ignore,  and  distort  the  perspectives  of  People of Color (see, for example, Bell 1995; Delgado Bernal 1998; Gotanda  1991; Ladson-Billings 2000). 3. The commitment to social justice. Acknowledging the intrinsically  political nature of social institutions such as schools, CRT views education  as a tool to eliminate all forms of subordination and empower oppressed  groups, thereby transforming society (see, for example, Freire 1970, 1973;  Solórzano and Delgado Bernal 2001). 4. The emphasis on experiential knowledge. CRT finds the experiential knowledge of People of Color legitimate, appropriate, and critical  to  understanding,  analyzing,  and  teaching  about  racial  subordination.  CRT  regards  this  knowledge  as  a  strength  and  draws  explicitly  on  the  lived experiences of People of Color by analyzing oral traditions, corridos,  poetry, films, actos, and humor (see, for example, Bender 2003; D. García  2006a, 2006b; Yosso 2002).  5. The transdisciplinary perspective. A CRT analysis of racism and  other forms of oppression offers historical and transdisciplinary perspectives  that move beyond, not just between, traditional disciplinary lines (see, for  example, Delgado 1984, 1992; Gutiérrez-Jones 2001; Olivas 1990). Individually, CRT’s tenets evidence insights drawn from ethnic studies, U.S. and third-world feminisms, Marxism and neo-Marxism, cultural  nationalism, internal colonialism, and critical legal studies. Collectively,  they make up a unique analytical approach. This critical race methodology  is, as law scholar Mari Matsuda explains, “consciously both historical and  revisionist, attempting to know history from the bottom” (1989, 2323–24).  148 Community Cultural Wealth in Culture Clash’s Chavez Ravine Drawing on multiple disciplinary research tools, critical race scholars seek  out “sources often ignored: journals, poems, oral histories, and stories from  their own experiences of life in a hierarchically arranged world” (2323–24).  CRT’s  insistence  on  listening  to  the  voices  of  those  injured  by  racism  reminds us of the tradition of Chicana/o teatro, which brings the dignity of  these voices to the stage through culturally nuanced, politically poignant,  and humorous portrayals.  In previous work, Tara J. Yosso (2005) uses CRT to challenge deficit  interpretations  about  the  role  of  social  and  cultural  capital  in  racially  unequal schooling outcomes (Bourdieu and Passeron 1977). Uncovering  the white privilege embedded in these misinterpretations of cultural capital,  she outlines cultural knowledges, skills, networks, and abilities developed by  Chicana/o students and parents, which maintain value (capital) rarely recognized or acknowledged by schools. She further argues that these cultural  resources bolster Chicana/o community resilience and resistance to racism  and other forms of oppression. While Yosso’s work adds to the growing body  of CRT literature in education and social science, our collaboration extends  critical race scholarship to the study of Chicana/o history and theater. Critical Race Theater Rooted in the Black Power and Chicana/o movements of the 1960s and  1970s, teatro’s politically inspired artistic performance connects physical  and verbal comedy to social protest with a dual goal of entertainment and  education.  According  to  theater  scholar  Harry  J.  Elam  Jr.,  these  performances  emerged  from  “marginalized  peoples  and  oppositional  struggles”  and  functioned  as  “counterhegemonic  strategies  through  which  underrepresented  groups  challenge  the  dominant  social  order  and  agitate  for  social change” (2001, vi). Elam asserts that social protest theater affirmed  Black and Chicana/o cultural identities by presenting a revisionist history.  David  G.  García  extends  on  this  research  to  demonstrate  how  Culture  Clash’s work has evolved to fulfill the functions of social protest theater for  a new generation. Building on scholarship that examines the creation and  exhibition of theory in Chicana/o teatro (Broyles-González 1994), García  examines Culture Clash’s historically informed satire through a CRT lens.  In chronicling the group’s evolution over two decades, he finds that the  playwrights and actors “place the experiences of People of Color and their  cultural resilience and resistance center stage,” and ultimately, their work  exhibits the tenets of a critical race theater (D. García 2006a, 118). 149 Yosso and García Culture Clash originated on May 5, 1984, and consists of performance  artists  Ricardo  “Ric”  Salinas,  Herbert  Siguenza,  and  Richard  Montoya.  Between 1984 and 1993, the trio wrote and performed four original plays  that mixed autobiography and biography with slapstick humor and social  commentary.7  In  1994,  Culture  Clash’s  theatrical  approach  shifted,  and  over the next nine years they wrote and performed six ethnographic, sitespecific plays.8  Though Culture Clash has been the most renowned Chicano-Latino  theater troupe in the United States for over two decades, García’s study is  the first book-length project to examine their work, and the first to apply  a CRT lens to the study of Chicana/o theater.9 Previously, theater scholars  have noted that Culture Clash’s work “addresses issues of multiculturalism  and hybridity both in form and content” while maintaining “a consistent  and  unwavering  commitment  to  the  political  possibilities  of  theatre”  (Glenn 2002, 68). Dorinne Kondo compares the work of Culture Clash to  that of contemporary African American playwright Anna Deavere Smith,  explaining, “both Smith and Culture Clash center the stories of people of  color, authorizing all of us to take center stage. And both offer a gesture  of  alliance  in  their  versions  of  cross-racial,  cross-gender  performance,  offering potential connections across multiple lines of difference” (2000,  105). Kondo further argues that Culture Clash’s work challenges essentialist notions of race, gender, and sexuality by crossing cultural borders and  performing  transracial  theater.  García  extends  on  this  scholarship  and  uncovers  CRT’s  tenets  in  Culture  Clash’s  “satirical,  lyrical,  historical,  hysterical” theater.10  Since 1994, Culture Clash has developed playwriting methods similar  to the research tools used by critical race scholars. While they do not claim  to be historians, they ground their theater in historical research and recount  the perspectives of marginalized communities. To begin a new play, they  conduct individual interviews with a cross-section of residents in a specific  U.S.  city.  To  add  breadth  and  depth  to  their  interviews,  they  examine  social science and humanities scholarship as well as popular press coverage  and judicial records related to these urban communities. Finally, Culture  Clash collectively transforms their findings into characters and scenes for  the  stage,  culminating  in  social  satire  from  a  uniquely  Chicano-Latino  perspective.  In  their  play  Chavez Ravine,  they  continue  this  critical race theater by illuminating “the lives and histories of marginalized communities while consciously challenging social and racial injustice” (D. García  2006a, 118).  150 Community Cultural Wealth in Culture Clash’s Chavez Ravine Deficit Thinking in Mainstream History and Social Science Culture Clash uses the stage as a professor might use her or his classroom,  albeit with more overt humor. Their plays expose and challenge racism and  other forms of social inequality. Similarly, critical race scholarship exposes  the prevalence of deficit thinking as one of the most insidious and prevalent  forms of racism shaping social structures, practices, and discourses (Yosso  2006).  During  the  1950s,  when  the  destruction  of  Chavez  Ravine  took  place, biological and cultural deficit traditions overtly informed social and  legal policy, justifying de jure racial segregation until midway through the  decade. Framed by the deficit approach, the history and social science “lessons” imparted to Mexican American students began with the assumption  that their communities lacked the values, skills, and attributes necessary for  social progress. Scholars such as Ozzie Simmons and William Madsen made  similar assertions  and published historical and anthropological  accounts  steeped in deficit discourse.11 For example, Simmons wrote:  Let us consider a few of the stereotypical beliefs that are widely used on  general principles to justify Anglo-American practices of exclusion and  subordination. . . . One such general belief accuses Mexican-Americans  of being unclean. . . . It is largely true that Mexican-Americans tend to be  more casual in their hygienic practices than Anglo-Americans. . . . The  belief that Mexicans are unclean is useful for rationalizing the AngloAmerican practice of excluding Mexicans from any situation that involves  close contact with Anglo-Americans, as in residence, and the common use  of swimming pools and other recreational facilities. (1974, 391–92) According to Simmons and the deficit model, Mexican parents socialize their children with inappropriate values and skills and teach them to  passively accept failure as a way of life.12 Schools in the 1950s sought to  “Americanize” these “culturally disadvantaged” Mexican students (González  1990, 1997; Sánchez 1993). Simmons further notes that: Not all Anglo-American images of the Mexican are unfavorable. Among  those usually meant to be complimentary are the beliefs that all Mexicans  are musical and always ready for a fiesta, that they are very “romantic”  rather than “realistic” (which may have unfavorable overtones as well),  and that they love flowers and can grow them under the most adverse  conditions. Although each of these beliefs may have a modicum of truth,  it may be noted that they tend to reinforce Anglo-American images of  Mexicans as childlike and irresponsible, and thus they support the notion  that Mexicans are capable only of subordinate status. (1974, 391–92) 151 Yosso and García Even in his supposedly objective observations, Simmons continues to mirror  the cultural deficit–laden mainstream historical accounts of the era.  Two decades beyond the 1950s, history texts used in U.S. high schools  continued to reflect this deficit view. For example, in 1977 the Council on  Interracial Books for Children found that high school history textbooks  were  usually  written  by  white  men  and  exhibited  a  narrow,  Eurocentric  perspective. The texts included “third world people and women” by singling  out a few “great” individuals and listing what “minorities” contribute to “us”  or to “our” nation. Furthermore, the books placed the blame on People of  Color “for their own oppressed conditions,” mentioning protest movements  as recent developments while emphasizing intra- and intergroup divisions  (Council on Interracial Books for Children 1977, 125–29). These accounts  of U.S. history showed a pattern of dealing with discrimination, racism,  and sexism “as aberrations, as isolated mistakes of the past,” an approach  that  created  “victims,  but  no  victimizers;  exploited,  but  no  exploiters”  (128–29). Fast-forwarding  another  two  decades,  in  1995  sociologist  James  W.  Loewen  further  established  that  high  school  history  texts  present  a  “Disneyland” version of U.S. history—a version where, more often than  not, a white hero saves helpless poor People of Color and ensures a happy,  romantic ending to an exotic adventure (35). Scholars such as Jesus Garcia  (1980) and Linda Salvucci (1991) also found that contemporary secondaryschool textbooks oversimplify the complexities of U.S. history by ignoring  the historical contributions of Mexicans and Mexican Americans. Loewen  asserts that such distortion promotes “blind patriotism” (1995, 14) while  omitting any real discussion of the structural nature of social and racial  inequality. As a result, these texts tend to silence racialized, gendered, and  classed histories of marginalized communities.  The overt “Americanization” of the 1950s school curriculum eventually  gave  way  to  a  more  subtle  yet  no  less  insidious  deficit  approach  to  teaching history and social science in primary, secondary, and postsecondary classrooms. In 1998, for example, sociologists Eric Margolis and Mary  Romero  found  that  mainstream  graduate  school  curricula  in  the  social  sciences largely ignored People of Color. Within and beyond the formal  school curriculum, deficit approaches to history encourage whites to enjoy a  false sense of supremacy while People of Color are stigmatized as culturally  and racially inferior. Such limited access to a “people’s history” stunts our  democracy and perpetuates racial divisiveness (Zinn 1995). 152 Community Cultural Wealth in Culture Clash’s Chavez Ravine Cultural Deficit Thinking and Cultural Capital Rooted in models of cultural and biological determinism, deficit approaches  to  social  science  and  history  tend  to  distort  Chicana/o  experiences  and  “see” only deprivation in Communities of Color (Valencia and Solórzano  1997).  Using  CRT  as  an  analytical  lens,  we  can  identify,  analyze,  and  challenge  such  erroneous  cultural  notions  as  we  learn  from  community  memory and collective histories in these communities. For our purposes  here,  culture refers to behaviors and values that are learned, shared, and  exhibited by a group of people. Culture is also evidenced in material and  nonmaterial productions of a people. As a set of characteristics, culture is  neither fixed nor static (Gómez-Quiñones 1977). Some social science and  historical  research  equates  culture  with  race  and  ethnicity,  while  other  work views culture through a much broader lens that encompasses various  characteristics, social histories, and identities. Cultural deficit thinking in  social science perpetuates an incomplete and distorted view of Chicana/o  communities, and this can be most clearly seen in contemporary deficit  interpretations  of  Pierre  Bourdieu’s  social  capital  theory  (Bourdieu  and  Passeron 1977).  Bourdieu asserted that privileged groups in society possess and inherit  an accumulation of knowledge, skills, and networks, which he referred to as  social and cultural capital. He explained that acquisition of cultural capital  (i.e.,  education,  language),  social  capital  (i.e.,  social  networks,  connections), and economic capital (i.e., money and other material possessions)  occurs  through  family  socialization  practices  and/or  formal  schooling.  Dominant groups within society maintain power and restrict social mobility  by limiting access to these forms of capital. Bourdieu’s  insightful  theory  of  how  society  reproduces  hierarchical  power  relations  has  since  been  interpreted  through  a  deficit  lens.  Such  interpretations seem to misunderstand Bourdieu’s theory, which presents a  critique of society, not a “how-to” guidebook for social mobility. In the case  of U.S. history, Bourdieu’s model describes how society replicates white,  middle-class culture by rewarding very specific forms of knowledge, skills,  abilities,  and  networks.  But  deficit  applications  of  Bourdieu  uncritically  view  white,  middle-class  culture  as  the  standard  and  dismiss  forms  and  expressions  of  cultural  knowledge  that  do  not  match  this  “norm.”  The  argument follows that if People of Color acquire and exhibit the social and  cultural capital of the dominant class, they too can enjoy social mobility.  Whiteness remains unquestioned as the center of this assertion. In short, a  153 Yosso and García deficit interpretation of Bourdieu claims that the cultural knowledges, skills,  abilities, and networks of People of Color hold very little, if any, value. However,  as  we  decenter  whiteness  and  recenter  the  research  lens  on  People  of  Color,  we  can  validate  often-overlooked  forms  of  cultural  knowledge  forged  in  a  legacy  of  resilience  and  resistance  to  racism  and  other forms of subordination. Centering our analytical lens on the experiences of Communities of Color in a critical historical context allows us  to “see” the accumulated assets and resources in the histories and lives of  marginalized communities. This act of reframing builds on an extensive  body  of  critical  social  science  research  that  has  consistently  identified  culture as a resource for Communities of Color, rather than as a detriment.  For example, scholars have found that Latina/o families create and draw  from communal funds of knowledge (Gonzalez et al. 1995; Gonzalez and  Moll 2002; Moll et al. 1992; Olmedo 1997; Vélez-Ibáñez and Greenberg  1992).  Here,  predominantly  working-class  Mexican  immigrant  families  create and share multiple forms of knowledge, and these “funds” help sustain communities even in adverse environments. Concha Delgado-Gaitan  (2001) adds to this research in demonstrating how Mexican immigrants  and  Chicana/o  families  pass  on  culturally  imbued  knowledges  that  help  mobilize communities for equal education. Furthermore, Dolores Delgado  Bernal (2001) also extends on this work by documenting various cultural  pedagogies of the home that Chicana/o students draw on to navigate college. Building on the cultural knowledges, skills, and abilities they learned  at home further motivates Chicana/o college students to use their degrees  to “give back” to their communities.  Below, we challenge deficit interpretations of social and cultural capital  and extend the funds of knowledge concept with a kaleidoscope model of  community cultural wealth (fig. 1). We define community cultural wealth  as an array of knowledges, skills, abilities, and contacts possessed and used  by Communities of Color to survive and resist racism and other forms of  oppression (Villalpando and Solórzano 2005; Yosso 2005, 2006). We further  assert that community cultural wealth comprises at least six forms of capital:  aspirational, linguistic, social, navigational, familial, and resistant.13  A kaleidoscope includes a primary lens, a tube with pieces of colored  glass  inside,  and  a  screen  at  the  end  of  the  tube  that  lets  in  light.  One  shifts the tube while looking through the primary lens to watch the light  reflect off the glass and create designs of varying colors and shapes at the  end of the cylinder. As an analytical tool, our kaleidoscope begins with a  CRT lens, focused on the lived experiences of People of Color. Examining  154 Community Cultural Wealth in Culture Clash’s Chavez Ravine Aspirational capital Critical Race Theory Familial capital Linguistic capital Navigational capital Community Cultural Wealth Resistant capital Social capital Figure 1. A Kaleidoscope of Community Cultural Wealth. Adapted from Villalpando and Solórzano (2005) and Yosso (2005, 2006). Communities of Color through this primary lens, we can see at least six  dynamic and overlapping forms of capital. The interplay of aspirational,  linguistic,  social,  navigational,  familial,  and  resistant  capital  constructs  community cultural wealth. This multifaceted portfolio of cultural assets  and  resources  facilitates  the  survival  and  resistance  of  Communities  of  Color, a process that is evident in Culture Clash’s Chavez Ravine.  Cultural Wealth in Chavez Ravine Learning  from  nearly  a  decade  of  creating  ethnographic,  site-specific  theater, Culture Clash began the process of writing Chavez Ravine by interviewing former residents of La Loma, Bishop, and Palo Verde, as well as Los  Angeles policymakers from the 1950s. To contextualize these oral histories,  Culture Clash examined newspaper accounts from the time period, archival  materials including maps of the area, photos of the communities, and city  documents, along with scholarly analysis on Chavez Ravine. Informed by  these multiple sources, the play critically analyzes the racism and classism  experienced by Mexicans in 1950s Los Angeles. Chavez Ravine is the first  of Culture Clash’s plays to offer a critical account of a historical event in  chronological, narrative format. Chavez Ravine recounts the events surrounding the displacement of  almost  3,800  Los  Angeles  residents  for  a  public  housing  project  in  the  1950s (Lopez 1999, 68).14 The Los Angeles City Housing Authority (CHA)  identified these neighborhoods as “the most blighted area in the city” and  claimed eminent domain over the properties (Avila 2004, 156). The CHA  promised residents a fair price for their homes and guaranteed them first  155 Yosso and García priority  in  the  new  Elysian  Park  Heights  housing  project.  While  many  residents hesitantly took the city’s offer and began moving, others flatly  refused to sell and instead mobilized against the CHA.  Despite homeowner protests, the city continued plans for the housing  project,  condemning  the  properties  and  issuing  eviction  notices.  Recognizing an opportunity to privatize and profit from the Ravine’s prime  real estate, a group of Los Angeles power brokers conspired to undermine  the CHA and derail the Elysian Park Heights project. The Los Angeles Times  initiated  a  publicity  war  against  the  CHA,  branding  subsidized  housing  projects and their advocates part of a socialist conspiracy—a threat that  resonated in the “red scare” climate after World War II. While a number  of families vehemently defied eviction orders, and the CHA scrambled to  defend their loyalty to the United States, the Los Angeles Times and power  brokers  turned  their  attention  to  the  1953  mayoral  race.  Their  puppet  candidate, Norris Poulson, carried out their sabotage plans by canceling the  housing project once he became the new mayor. The end of Elysian Park  Heights meant permanent dislocation for Ravine residents. The backroom  politics that led the city to negate its promises to these residents paved the  way for private interests to prevail in the Ravine.  With an eye on the almost vacant Ravine, Los Angeles County supervisor Kenneth Hahn started courting baseball team owner Walter O’Malley  to convince him to relocate the Brooklyn Dodgers to Los Angeles (Lopez  1999, 140–45). Los Angeles City Council member Rosalind Wyman joined  the cabal with Mayor Poulson to promote a deal with the Dodgers (Acuña  1984, 76–77).  Further  political  scheming  and  support  from  Hollywood  celebrities  such  as  Ronald  Reagan  facilitated  the  narrow  passage  of  Proposition B, a measure that approved a city contract essentially gifting  the Ravine land to the Dodger Corporation. In this sweetheart deal, the  city granted 315 acres to O’Malley and subsidized the leveling of the land  in preparation for Dodger Stadium.15 On May 8, 1959, sheriff’s deputies  removed the defiant remaining Chavez Ravine residents by force and the  city bulldozed their homes. The  Culture  Clash  trio  invited  actress  Eileen  Galindo  and  three  musicians, John Avila, Randy Rodarte, and Scott Rodarte, to help portray  the layers of history largely untold about Chavez Ravine. This ensemble  brings Chavez Ravine to life through more than fifty different composite  characters and a combination of music, comedy, and satire on a set dressed  with  enlarged  black-and-white  photos  from  the  original  neighborhoods  (Normark  1999).16  Manazar  (Siguenza)  narrates,  while  the  composite  156 Community Cultural Wealth in Culture Clash’s Chavez Ravine c   haracters of Maria Ruiz (Galindo), her mother Señora Ruiz (Montoya),  and her brother Henry “Hank” Ruiz (Salinas) recount a dramatic counterstory of overt racism, red scare McCarthyism, and community resistance.  Because the opening scene features Fernando Valenzuela (Siguenza) pitching, it appears that the entire play takes place in Dodger Stadium.  The characters of the Ruiz family collectively personify twelve actual  families who refused to sell their homes and were forcefully evicted from  Chavez Ravine. In particular, Señora Ruiz and her daughter Maria closely  resemble the real-life women of the Arechiga family, Avrana Arechiga and  her daughter Aurora. The eviction of sixty-two-year-old Avrana Arechiga,  her seventy-two-year-old husband Manuel, and their family garnered mass  media attention. On May 8, 1959, it took four sheriff’s deputies to physically  remove  the  Arechigas’  daughter,  Aurora  Vargas,  from  the  family  home,  with  two  holding  her  by  the  arms  and  two  by  the  ankles.  Eleven  other  families were also forcefully evicted and their homes were bulldozed. But  the Arechiga family’s experience, broadcast on television and documented  in newspapers and still photos, captivated audiences and inspired the Ruiz  family characters created by Culture Clash.  Henry Ruiz is a Mexican American World War II veteran with a young  family  and  a  desire  to  pursue  the  “American  dream.”  The  Ruiz  family  lost their older brother Arturo in the war, and their father is not present.  Henry’s younger sister Maria carries a deep love for her community, which  fuels her activism to protect the neighborhoods of Chavez Ravine. Henry  and Maria’s defiant mother, Señora Ruiz, asserts her right to remain in the  Ravine and defends her home in a dramatic showdown with the sheriff’s  deputies and bulldozers. Culture  Clash  does  not  claim  to  tell  the  definitive  story  of  Chavez  Ravine, nor does a theatrical format allow the group to present an exhaustive history. Still, the trio interprets historical materials just as an academic  historian might sift through the archives and oral accounts to offer her or  his own interpretation. Some of the dialogue in the play quotes verbatim  from interviews with former Chavez Ravine residents and figures such as  the CHA site commissioner, Frank Wilkinson. Culture  Clash  also  takes  literary  license  to  combine  characters  and  to  paraphrase  quotations  gleaned  from  newspapers  and  other  historical  accounts. For example, in August 1951 the Los Angeles Timesinterviewed  three of the women who challenged the city’s plans for their neighborhood:  Mrs. Agnes Cerda, Mrs. Angie Villa, and Mrs. Arechiga. Each questioned  the assumption that they lived in a “slum.” The article quotes Mrs. Arechiga  157 Yosso and García as saying, “I know nothing of slums. I only know that this has been my home  and it was my father’s home and I do not want to sell and move. I am too  old to find a new home, here is where I live. Here. In Chavez Ravine.”17  This quote evidently inspired a scene in the play portraying a community  meeting where Wilkinson (Montoya) describes his plan to transform the  Ravine  from  a  “slum”  into  a  new  affordable  housing  project.  An  Elder  Woman (Siguenza) vehemently disagrees with Wilkinson and questions  the condemnation order, saying, “This is no slum! This has been my home,  and I do not want to sell or move or be chased out like a pack of wild dogs.  I’m too old to find a new casa” (61).  In listening to the voices of former residents and questioning deficit discourse, the play projects a view of Chavez Ravine consistent with the tenets  of CRT. Specifically, Chavez Ravine illuminates the lived experiences of a  predominantly Mexican American community and consciously challenges  the social and racial injustice that led to its destruction. This production  of critical race theater allows audiences to witness the community cultural  wealth fostered in the three Mexican American neighborhoods. Below, we  define each of the six forms of capital that make up community cultural  wealth and identify excerpts of Chavez Ravine that further exemplify these  rarely acknowledged cultural assets and resources.  AspirAtionAl CApitAl Aspirational capital refers to the ability to maintain hopes and dreams for  the future, even in the face of real and perceived barriers. This resiliency  is evident in those who allow themselves and their children to dream of  possibilities beyond their present circumstances, often without the objective  means to attain those goals (Auerbach 2001; Ceja 2004; Delgado-Gaitan  1992, 1994; Gándara 1982, 1995; Solórzano 1992). Aspirations develop  within  social  and  familial  contexts,  often  through  cuentos  (stories)  and  consejos (advice) about maneuvering through and challenging oppressive  conditions. Therefore, social, familial, navigational, linguistic, and resistant  capital all inform and overlap with aspirational capital.  In  Chavez Ravine,  aspirational  capital  is  expressed  by  Señora  Ruiz,  who hopes that she and her familia will all continue to live together even  though the city has condemned their neighborhood and is claiming eminent domain to move them out. The tension between this hope and the  real obstacles to such an outcome surfaces in a Christmas Eve argument  between Henry and his mother over Henry’s decision to take the city’s offer,  158 Community Cultural Wealth in Culture Clash’s Chavez Ravine sell his house, and move out with his wife, Soledad, and their children.  Señora Ruiz pleads with her son: “Well I don’t want to move out of here. This is where you were born, this is where your abuelos died. . . . This is  where my compadres are, Henry” (38). Maria tries to inject herself into  the argument, but her mother interrupts in a pained voice: sra. ruiz: Callense los dos, already. Hank, do what you have to do, you  have your own familia now. Your sister and I are staying put. But do me  a favor, si vendes tu casa, if you dare sell that little house that your father  built with his hands and sweat and blood, don’t look back mijo, because  you will never set foot in this house again, me entiendes? (40) Henry’s aspirations to progress with his family actually coincide with  his mother’s dreams for her family. Yet his experiences as a World War II  veteran shift his view of his predominantly Mexican community. He has  begun  to  view  himself  more  as  a  Mexican  American,  with  an  emphasis  on American, and even warns his sister that in fighting the city’s eminent  domain ordinance, she is spending too much time “hanging around those  pachucos  and  the  Reds  at  the  Union  Hall”  (39).  Maria  runs  after  her  brother and unsuccessfully tries to convince him to stay. Maria: You’re taking the kids away from mama. HenrY: It’s a free country little sis, I’m taking my GI Bill and the City  dough and never looking back. I’m gonna give my kids more than footprints in the dirt and chicken shacks. It’s a goddamned slum up here. Maria: You don’t mean that Henry. HenrY: Sure I do Maria, there’s a world over this hill. I fought for it and  I  want  my  kids  to  see  it.  We’re  gonna  move  west  Maria.  .  .  .  There’s  nothing here. Maria: We have everything here. (41–42) Henry buys into the city’s deficit view of the Ravine and its residents, and  even though racial segregation and discrimination may continue to limit  his options, he seeks to realize his aspirations outside of this community.  Señora Ruiz and Maria refuse to “sell out” to the city (fig. 2). Even in the  face  of  real  and  perceived  barriers,  they  maintain  hope  for  their  familia  and for the Ravine. 159 Yosso and García Figure 2. “Your sister and I are staying put.” Scene from Chavez Ravine, 2003. Left to right: Eileen Galindo as Maria Ruiz, Richard Montoya as Señora Ruiz. Photograph © 2003 by Craig Schwartz; reproduced by permission. linguistiC CApitAl Linguistic  capital  includes  the  intellectual  and  social  skills  attained  through communication in multiple languages and/or language styles.18 The  residents of Chavez Ravine nurtured linguistic capital among their peers  and  families.  Culture  Clash  emphasizes  the  ways  in  which  the  Ravine’s  children engaged in a storytelling tradition that included listening to and  recounting  oral  histories,  parables,  stories  (cuentos),  proverbs  (dichos),  and  comedy  (Auerbach  2007;  Burciaga  1997).19  They  suggest  some  of  the characters’ repertoire of storytelling skills and the legacy of linguistic  capital by mentioning some of the hundreds of nicknames the residents  recall giving each other.  160 Community Cultural Wealth in Culture Clash’s Chavez Ravine Manazar: See, we all had nicknames back then. . . .  all:  La  Living  Monster,  Nonio,  Little  Blackie,  Headlights,  Six  Pack,  Mocoso, and Once. Manazar: We called him Once—Eleven—because he always had a runny  nose. . . . Sometimes they called me El Peludo, the hairy guy. When we  would go skinny diving, the guys would see the hairs all over my body,  they said I looked like— all: King Kong! (29–30)  Linguistic capital also refers to the ability  to communicate  through  visual art, music, or poetry.20 Culture Clash honors this form of community  cultural wealth by highlighting the life and work of Manazar, the late poet  from Bishop. Manazar narrates the play and bilingually guides the audience  through the history of Chavez Ravine. Manazar: Our backyard, a hand that touched a still wild river, home for  paloma, coyote, and carrizales, the green smell of moss outside my window.  Later, barricaded by boulevards, freeways, clouds of high-octane smoke  and a ceaseless roar. (135) soCiAl CApitAl Social  capital  can  be  understood  as  networks  of  people  and  community  resources. The play demonstrates how residents in Chavez Ravine’s three  neighborhoods sustained themselves by cultivating multiple networks of  this type. These peer and other social contacts provided both instrumental  and emotional support, which in turn helped residents navigate society’s  institutions (Gilbert 1980a, 1980b; Stanton-Salazar 2001). The  interaction  between  Uri  the  Sheepherder  (Salinas)  and  Maria  demonstrates the interplay of social and navigational capital. Maria brings  her Russian neighbor some tamales during the Christmas holidays in 1950.  Uri  shares  some  of  his  vodka  with  Maria,  and  they  discuss  the  looming  enforcement of the city’s eminent domain clause.  uri: I’m sorry to hear about your brother. Maria: The city shouldn’t be able to force people away from their homes,  off their land. Goddamnit, Uri. uri: Take it from a communist, it’s un-American. Maria: I agree. (Maria gulps remaining vodka.) 161 Yosso and García Uri: “It is better to die on your feet than to live on your knees.” Maria: Is that Russian? uri:  No,  Emiliano  Zapata  say  this.  (Maria’s spirits are lifted for the moment.) Maria: What do we do? uri: Well, at the Workman’s Circle, Maria, we are talking about building  coalitions. Maria:  I  heard  Carey  McWilliams  speak  about  that  last  week  at  the  Figueroa Hotel. uri: Good. Strength in numbers! Maria: What if we form a Homeowners coalition? uri: Now Maria is thinking. (51–52) With  this  scene,  Culture  Clash  shows  how  neighbors  exchanged  knowledge, skills, and tools to provide both instrumental and emotional  support for one another in Chavez Ravine.21 The following scene opens at  the Santo Niño church hall, where Maria welcomes her other neighbors  to the “first Palo Verde Home Owners Protective Society fundraiser” while  musician Pete Seeger (Montoya) leads them in a chorus of Woody Guthrie’s  song “This Land Is Your Land” (54; see fig. 3). This mutualista, or mutual aid  society, established to organize the homeowners in Chavez Ravine against  the city’s ordinance, exemplifies one of the ways in which immigrants have  historically created and maintained social networks.22 nAvigAtionAl CApitAl Navigational capital refers to skills in maneuvering through social institutions. Historically, this implies the ability to maneuver through institutions  not created with Communities of Color in mind. Indeed, People of Color  draw on various “critical navigational skills,” both social and psychological,  to strategically move through structures of inequality permeated by racism  (Solórzano and Villalpando 1998).  In  a  sort  of  epilogue  to  the  play,  Maria  speaks  to  the  audience  and  describes some of the barriers her predominantly Mexican community faced  in their struggle to save their homes (fig. 4). 162 Community Cultural Wealth in Culture Clash’s Chavez Ravine Figure 3. “This Land Was Made for You and Me.” Scene from Chavez Ravine, 2003. Left to  right: Herbert Siguenza, Ric Salinas, Randy Rodarte, Scott Rodarte, and John Avila as community members, Richard Montoya as Pete Seeger, Eileen Galindo as Maria Ruiz. Photograph © 2003 by Craig Schwartz; reproduced by permission. Figure 4. “Remember Chavez Ravine.” S cene from C havez  Ravine , 2003. Background  left, Herbert Siguenza as Fernando Valenzuela; foreground right, Eileen Galindo as Professor Maria Ruiz. Photograph © 2003 by Craig Schwartz; reproduced by permission. 163 Yosso and García Maria: My students often ask me, Professor Ruiz, then why was the fight  for Chavez Ravine so important? Look, I’m standing here on Bunker Hill,  City Hall is there, the LA Times, Disney Hall going up over here, the  Federal Courthouse there, the new Cathedral just behind me and none  other than the Department of Water and Power across the street. How  did we ever have the audacity to take on this civic crucible? (139) Maria’s  monologue  acknowledges  individual  agency  within  institutional  constraints.  Her  remarks  demonstrate  an  overlap  between  navigational  and resistant capital. She goes on to say, It’s true we lost, but what’s more important is that we helped create a  culture  of  resistance.  The  struggle  for  Chavez  Ravine  prepared  me  for  Civil Rights, the Farmworkers Union, my labor work with Bert Corona  and the Chicana Movement. Chavez Ravine was huge for me. It made  me the person I am today. So do me a favor, remember Chavez Ravine,  eh? (139–40) Navigational  capital  also  builds  on  social  capital,  specifically  through  social networks that facilitate community movement through places and  spaces including schools, the job market, and the health care and judicial  systems. FAmiliAl CApitAl Familial capital refers to those cultural knowledges nurtured among  familia (kin) that carry a sense of community history, memory, and cultural  intuition (Delgado Bernal 1998, 2001, 2002; Villenas and Moreno 2001).  This form of cultural wealth engages a commitment to community wellbeing and expands the concept of family to include a broader understanding  of  kinship.  In  contrast  to  the  racialized,  classed,  and  heterosexualized  notions that make up traditional understandings of “family,” familial capital  is nurtured by our extended and chosen family, which may include immediate family (living or long passed on) as well as aunts, uncles, grandparents,  and friends whom we consider part of our familia.  In Chavez Ravine, neighbors like La Sobadora nurture familial capital. Maria: La Sobadora’s name was Juana de los Perros, she was a full blooded  Yaqui Indian. She was the lady in the neighborhood that could help you  when you ate too many green apples or peaches from la Moore Park. HenrY:  Gohlee,  some  babies  were  born  right  on  the  kitchen  table,  te  acuerdas little sister? 164 Community Cultural Wealth in Culture Clash’s Chavez Ravine Maria: Sure I do. When babies were born, when people died in their  homes, La Sobadora, la Juana de los Perros was there every time. These  are sacred lands you’re pitching on Fernando. (5) From  these  kinship  ties,  Maria  has  received  una educación in  which  she  learned the importance of maintaining a healthy connection to her community and its resources (Gonzalez et al. 1995; Moll et al. 1992; Olmedo  1997;  Rueda,  Monzo,  and  Higareda  2004;  Vélez-Ibáñez  and  Greenberg  1992).23  Familia  also  model  lessons  of  caring,  coping,  and  providing,  which  helps  us  develop  our  emotional,  moral,  educational,  and  occupational  consciousness.24 This consciousness can be fostered within and between  families, as well as through sports, school, religious gatherings, and other  social community settings. Isolation is minimized as families “become connected with others around common issues” and realize they are “not alone  in dealing with their problems” (Delgado-Gaitan 2001, 54). The families  struggling to save their homes in Chavez Ravine faced extreme barriers,  but they were not alone. Maria reiterates the interplay of familial, social,  and  navigational  capital  when  two  detectives  (Salinas  and  Montoya)  interrogate her.  DeTecTive 1: Maria Salgado Ruiz? Maria: Who’s asking? DeTecTive 2: Oh, just the Los Angeles Police Department. . . .  DeTecTive 1: Are you the ringleader up in the Ravine? Maria: I don’t know what you’re talking about. DeTecTive 1:  We  don’t  believe  you.  .  .  .  Where  did  you  get  this  little  book by Karl Marx? . . . Tell old lady Arechiga and the last families to  get off the hill. DeTecTive 2: Do it fast and do it quiet. DeTecTive 1: Or else. Maria: Or else what? DeTecTive 2: The Punch and Judy show. DeTecTive 1: Who else you been talking to, Maria? DeTecTive 2: Names, now! 165 Yosso and García DeTecTive 1: Spill! Maria:  You  want  names?  I’ll  give  ya  names.  Blackie,  Bimbo,  Bubbles,  Captain Marvel, Cakes, Chema, Blue Moon, B-19, El Dopey, Chavela,  Chacha, Buttermilk Sky. . . . (128–30) Maria’s response connects back to the beginning of the play, where the  audience learned that youths in Chavez Ravine maintained a tradition of  nicknaming each other. In the face of these threatening detectives, Maria  utilizes her linguistic capital and holds on to the notion that she and her  former neighbors are familia, insisting that the communal bonds fostered  in the Ravine deserve to be respected and protected.25 resistAnt CApitAl Resistant  capital  refers  to  those  knowledges  and  skills  fostered  through  oppositional  behavior  that  challenges  inequality  (Delgado  Bernal  1997;  Giroux 1983; Freire 1970, 1973; Pizarro 1998, 2005; Solórzano and Delgado  Bernal 2001). Though resistance can take on many forms,  Chavez Ravine  portrays overt resistance against injustice, mainly through the composite  characters  of  Maria  and  Señora  Ruiz.  As  mentioned  above,  these  two  characters personify the real-life Arechiga family and eleven other families  whose refusal to move out of the Ravine led to their forced eviction. In the  play’s climatic scene, Manazar narrates as sheriff’s deputies carry Maria out  of her family’s home. She shouts “Sí, se puede!” as the rest of the ensemble  hold up enlarged archival photos of the actual Chavez Ravine residents,  the former neighborhoods, and the forced eviction (fig. 5). Though  this  scene  replicates  much  of  the  actual  televised  footage  of  the  Arechiga  eviction,  for  dramatic  purposes  Culture  Clash  portrays  Señora Ruiz with a shotgun. Her strong voice rises over the commotion  and quiets the crowd (fig. 6). Pumping the gun in a threatening stance,  she declares, We are not the Mulhollands. (We hear the pump action of a shotgun.)  We are not the Lankershims or the Van Nuys. (We hear the pump action of a shotgun.)  But you’ll remember this name, Arechiga. (We hear the pump action of a shotgun.)  Cabral, Casos y Lopez. (We hear the pump action of a shotgun.)  166 Community Cultural Wealth in Culture Clash’s Chavez Ravine Figure 5. Chavez Ravine eviction, May 8, 1959. Los Angeles Times Photographic A rchive, Collection 1429, “Chavez Ravine evictions.” Photograph courtesy of t he Department of Special Collections, Charles E. Young Research Library, University of California, Los Angeles. Figure 6. “Mi Casa No Es Tu Casa.” Scene from Chavez Ravine, 2003. Richard Montoya as Señora Ruiz. Photograph © 2003 by Craig Schwartz; reproduced by permission. 167 Yosso and García Perez. (We hear the pump action.)  Ramirez. (We hear the pump action.)  You took our sons to fight your war, and now you take our homes. (We hear the pump action of a shotgun.)  Our land. (We hear the pump action of a shotgun) . . . Mi casa no es tu casa. Sabes que? Why don’t you tell the pinche sheriff  to build a stadium in his own goddamn backyard. (We hear bulldozer / siren and city sounds.) (133–35) Though the city displaced the families for the “greater public good”  and eventually handed over the land to the Dodger Corporation, Chavez  Ravine residents continued to nurture resistant capital. City officials and  Los  Angeles  power  brokers  failed  to  “see”  the  cultural  wealth  present  in  Chavez  Ravine,  and  they  did  not  anticipate  a  decade  of  community  resistance.  Manazar  reminds  the  audience  that  community  resistance  to  oppression is part of the complexity and humanity of Los Angeles history.  He holds a picture of the removal of Chavez Ravine residents high over his  head and exclaims, “Memory cannot be flattened. Memory is history singing  in tune with the stars, and no sheriff’s baton can reach that high” (132).  Culture Clash’s culminating scene, back at Dodger Stadium, reiterates  that the knowledges and skills garnered through this resistance informed  and inspired a generation of activists, many of whom participated in the  Chicana/o  civil  rights  movement  of  the  following  decade.  Indeed,  as  a  cultural  production  Chavez Ravine  both  depicts  and  adds  to  the  legacy  of Chicana/o community resistance. The play itself becomes part of the  knowledge base of resistant capital for Chicana/o communities. Discussion Maria:  It’s  easy  to  romanticize  the  working  class  residents  of  Chavez  Ravine, but we should not, many of us were immigrants or first generation  sons and daughters of immigrants. And what does the immigrant want?  The immigrant doesn’t want trouble, he wants to make it, he wants his  little piece of land. (139) As Maria’s monologue reminds audiences, Chavez Ravine does not try  to aggrandize the actions of the former residents, but the play does reclaim  this collective history as part of a legacy of resistance against oppression.  Culture  Clash  emphasizes  the  importance  of  documenting  community  168 Community Cultural Wealth in Culture Clash’s Chavez Ravine histories and carrying on oral traditions as they present this narrative to  Fernando (Siguenza) when he begins his career with the Dodgers in 1981.  Fernando symbolizes the resilience of Mexican communities in the United  States. Few Dodger fans know the history of the Mexican families whose  neighborhoods once stood where Dodger Stadium stands now, so the brief  link to Fernando reminds audiences of the continuity of a Mexican presence  in this part of Los Angeles.  Chavez Ravine  illuminates  the  racialized  experiences  of  former  Palo  Verde,  Bishop,  and  La  Loma  residents  while  challenging  deficit  notions  of Mexican communities as passive. The decade-long battle to save these  neighborhoods mirrored struggles across Los Angeles over the next decades,  as Mexican Americans challenged the city’s plan to build freeways, a prison,  and a sewage plant in their eastside communities (Acuña 1984).  Chavez Ravine “revives the struggle over land rights, socioeconomic privilege, and  ethnicity” and “functions as a combination of ethnography, history, fiction,  and art” (Lucas 2006, 90–91).  In documenting the backdoor politics of 1950s Los Angeles, the play  exposes a pattern of institutionalized racism, informed by a deficit view of  Communities of Color. In a 2003 interview with the  Los Angeles Times, former  city  councilmember  Rosalind  Wyman  reiterated  this  ignorance  and  disrespect  for  the  vibrant  community  cultivated  in  Chavez  Ravine.  She remarked, “I wanted my city to be big league. Chavez Ravine just sat  there,  nonproductive”  (Boehm  2003).  Wyman’s  arrogant  and  incorrect  assumption reverberates throughout U.S. history as the same justification  used to violently claim land, revoke landholding rights, and break treaties between the government and indigenous communities. Such deficit  framing  about  whose  culture  has  capital  and  whose  does  not  limits  the  insights to be gained from social science research and restricts the scope  of historical accounts. In contrast to this deficit approach, CRT begins with the perspective  that Communities of Color are places with multiple strengths. Grounded  in the experiences of Communities of Color, CRT challenges mainstream  historical accounts that tend to disregard the cultural assets nurtured in  Chicana/o  communities.  Using  examples  from  Culture  Clash’s  Chavez Ravine, we describe six rarely acknowledged indicators of cultural wealth  in  Chicana/o  communities:  aspirational,  linguistic,  social,  navigational,  familial, and resistant capital.  We  do  not  identify  this  portfolio  of  community  cultural  wealth  to  facilitate mainstream society’s further co-optation or exploitation of the  169 Yosso and García strengths of Communities of Color.26 Deficit interpretations of Bourdieu’s  theory urge individuals to accumulate and claim exclusive ownership of  cultural capital. In contrast, the characters of Chavez Ravine—Maria, Uri,  Señora Ruiz, and Manazar—demonstrate the shared and collective nature  of cultural wealth.  Culture  Clash’s  satirical,  gendered,  and  bilingual  portrayal  of  the  complex  battle  for  Chavez  Ravine  depicts  and  personifies  the  cultural  knowledges, skills, abilities, and networks that Los Angeles city officials and  businessmen failed to see in the 1950s.27 Recalling the deficit rhetoric of the  time, real-life former Ravine resident Lou Santillan remarks, “They made  it sound like a bunch of shacks. Not really. They were pretty good houses.  They needed renovations, but they weren’t shacks. . . . It’s something we  have to instill in our children and grandchildren, never to forget what happened up there” (Boehm 2003). Through the play, Culture Clash expresses  these same sentiments. Chavez Ravine honors the lives of the former Ravine  residents and publicly reclaims the historical significance of their struggle  for social justice. Richard Montoya explains, “The Taper stage certainly  isn’t a classroom, but we feel a great responsibility with this piece to get the  facts straight, because the collective memory of a community is a precious  thing” (Boehm 2003). We agree, and humbly offer this article as another  reminder of the many ways Chicana/o communities share cultural wealth  to facilitate survival and resistance.  Notes  1. Chavez Ravine, written by Culture Clash and directed by Lisa Peterson,  premiered in May 2003 at the Mark Taper Forum in Los Angeles. Since the dramatic  script has not yet been published, all excerpts in this essay are from the version  filed at the Taper titled “Final Taper Draft, July 12, 2003.” 2. Though the play is grounded in historical research on the Chavez Ravine  community using oral histories, archival records, media accounts, political memoirs,  and academic analysis, this essay focuses on the theatrical production Chavez Ravine.  For a more comprehensive account of the historical events and figures shaping the  City  of  Los  Angeles  and  the  Chavez  Ravine  community  during  this  period,  see  Acuña (1984), Avila (1997, 2004), and Lopez (1999). 3. In  the 1830s Julian Chávez moved from New  Mexico  to Los Angeles  and settled in the Ravine. The Mexican governing council officially granted him  the land around 1840, and the area eventually became known as Chavez Ravine  (Avila 1997, 114; Lopez 1999, 9). 170 Community Cultural Wealth in Culture Clash’s Chavez Ravine 4. We  use  the  terms  Mexican  and  Mexican  American  interchangeably  throughout this article. In Chavez Ravine, some families were recent immigrants,  while others had lived in Los Angeles for generations and had children and grandchildren born in the United States. While these communities may not have used  the term Chicana/o to refer to their progressive political identity, they certainly  contributed to the struggle for Chicana/o civil rights (see D. García 2006a). 5. For further discussion of the liberal, well-intentioned, yet racialized and  paternalistic approach to urban redevelopment, see Lopez (1999, 7–9). 6. Critical race theory originated in schools of law with a group of scholars  seeking to examine and challenge race and racism in the United States legal system  and society. They argued that critical legal studies did not acknowledge the lived  experiences and histories of People of Color. For example, Derrick Bell and Alan  Freeman asserted that without analyzing race and racism, critical legal scholarship  could not offer strategies for social transformation (Delgado 1995). Outside schools  of law, scholars in social science, history, ethnic studies, and women’s studies engaged  in similar discussions. For further CRT historiography specifying some of the roots  in Chicana/o studies, see Yosso and Solórzano (2005).  7. These plays include The Mission (1988), A Bowl of Beings (1991), S.O.S. Comedy for These Urgent Times (1992), and Carpa Clash (1993). 8. These plays include Radio Mambo: Culture Clash Invades Miami (1994),  Bordertown (1998),  Nuyorican Stories (1999),  Magic Mission Mystery Tour (2000),  Anthems: Culture Clash in the District (2001), and Chavez Ravine (2003). Between  2002 and 2005, the trio performed Culture Clash in AmeriCCa, an anthology show  that includes scenes from their ethnographic, site-specific plays. They premiered  two additional original plays in 2006, Zorro in Hell and Water & Power. For further  detail of Culture Clash’s production history, see D. García (2006a, 8–13) and the  Culture Clash website (http://cultureclash.com/cc_history.html).  9. Cultural studies and theater scholarship tend to mention Culture Clash  only  briefly  or  in  passing  while  discussing  Chicana/o  popular  culture  (see,  for  example, Morales 2002, 196–98; Roman 1997; Shohat and Stam 1994, 77, 205,  338–41; Tatum 2006, 132–33). 10. Quoted  from  the  cover  page  of  the  performance  program  for  Culture Clash Anthology: A 15-year Retrospective, Los Angeles Theatre Center, April–May  2000  (written  and  performed  by  Culture  Clash,  directed  by  Culture  Clash  and  Sam Woodhouse). 11. Simmons wrote his doctoral dissertation in history at Harvard University  in 1952 under the title “Anglo Americans and Mexican Americans in South Texas.”  He later published the dissertation as a book with the same title (1974). William  Madsen graduated from the University of California at Berkeley with a doctorate in  anthropology in 1955 and wenton to write the bestselling book Mexican-Americans of South Texas, in which he asserts, “A good many of the Mexican Americans who  go to college don’t seem to know what they want out of education. This lack of  purpose  is  particularly  characteristic  of  Mexican-Americans  who  are  seeking  a  higher education than their parents received” (1964, 108).  12. Cecilia  Heller’s  remarks  exemplify  these  deficit  assertions.  She  writes,  “Parents, as a whole, neither impose standards of excellence for tasks performed by  their children nor do they expect evidence of high achievement” (1966, 37).  171 Yosso and García 13. We recognize that the notion of capital may be associated with capitalism,  an exploitative system that has historically functioned to oppress Communities of  Color. We use the word “capital” here to refer to the value of cultural assets and  resources nurtured in Communities of Color specifically to survive and resist such  oppression. These multiple knowledges, skills, abilities, and networks have long  been undervalued, seen as cultural deficits and indeed as forms of cultural poverty  (Lewis 1959). 14. Ronald W. Lopez notes that by claiming eminent domain over the area,  the  City  of  Los  Angeles  removed  1,100  families  from  Chavez  Ravine.  He  also  explains  that  developers  planning  the  proposed  public  housing  projects  for  the  area based their designs on a total population of 3,769 people. 15. Historian Eric Avila notes that O’Malley also received mineral rights,  a ninety-year land lease, $4.7 million in land preparation costs, and all revenues  from parking and concessions (2004, 162). 16. In addition to photos from the Los Angeles public library archives, these  reprints drew heavily on photographer Don Normark’s collection, taken in 1949;  see Normark (1999). 17. This seemingly empathetic article appears quite disingenuous because the  Chandler family, owners of the Los Angeles Times, covertly and overtly supported  the cancellation of the housing project, knowing it would lead to the permanent  displacement  of  Ravine  residents.  Later,  while  advocating  the  construction  of  Dodger  Stadium  at  this  same  site,  the  Los Angeles Times openly  denounced  the  Arechiga family for refusing to leave the Ravine. 18. Many thanks to Rebeca Burciaga, who identified linguistic and familial  capital and added important dimensions to the concept of cultural wealth. Her late  father Jose Antonio “Tony” Burciaga was an original member of Culture Clash and  performed with the group from 1984 through 1986. Tony’s work documents and  comments humorously on Chicana/o culture. His stage routines, art, and writing  exemplify the linguistic capital nurtured in Chicana/o families and communities  (Burciaga 1993, 1995, 1997). 19. For further discussion of the social and academic skills Latina/o children  build as translators, see Faulstich Orellana (2003). 20. We  appreciate  Pablo  Gallegos,  Moises  Garcia,  Noel  Gomez,  and  Ray  Hernandez,  whose  research  conceptualizing  graffiti  and  hip-hop  poetry  as  unacknowledged sources of community cultural wealth has expanded the concept of  linguistic capital. 21. This resonates with more recent ethnographic research in the Mexican  immigrant community of Carpinteria, California, which found that “families transcend the adversity in their daily lives by uniting with supportive social networks”  (Delgado-Gaitan 2001, 105). 22. For further discussion of mutualistas and immigrant social networks, see  Gómez-Quiñones (1973, 1994) and Sánchez (1993). 23. Chicana scholars note that in Spanish,  educación holds dual meanings  (Delgado-Gaitan 1992, 1994, 2001; Elenes et al. 2001). A person can be formally  educated  with  several  advanced  degrees,  but  may  still  be  rude,  ignorant,  disrespectful, or unethical (immoral), and thus mal educada. On the other hand, a person  172 Community Cultural Wealth in Culture Clash’s Chavez Ravine with  only  a  second-grade  formal  education  may  be  una persona bien educada—a  well-mannered, kind, fair-minded, respectful, and moral individual.  24. For further discussion of moral capital passed on by Latina/o parents, see  Auerbach (2001, 2007). For more on the contexts and development of emotional,  educational, and occupational consciousness, see Elenes et al. (2001). 25. For discussion of the ways racial desegregation broke the communal bonds  cultivated within African American communities, see Morris (1999). 26. Robert A. Williams (1997) notes that in academia, scholars tend to act  like “vampires,” metaphorically siphoning the life-blood of marginalized communities through disrespectful research practices. 27. For more on the phrase “the battle for Chavez Ravine,” see Hines (1957,  1982) and Lopez (1999, 26).  Works Cited Acuña, Rodolfo F. 1984.  A Community Under Siege: A Chronicle of Chicanos East of the Los Angeles River, 1945–1975. Monograph Series, no. 11. Los Angeles:  UCLA Chicano Studies Research Center.  Arriola,  Elvia  R.  1997.  “LatCrit  Theory,  International  Human  Rights,  Popular  Culture, and the Faces of Despair in INS Raids.”  Inter-American Law Review  28, no. 2: 245–62.  ———. 1998. “March!” Chicano-Latino Law Review 19: 1–67. Auerbach,  Susan.  2001.  “Under  Co-Construction:  Parent  Roles  in  Promoting  College  Access  for  Students  of  Color.”  PhD  diss.,  University  of  California,  Los Angeles. ———. 2007. “From Moral Supporters to Struggling Advocates: Reconceptualizing  Parent Roles in Education through the Experience of Working-Class Families  of Color.” Urban Education 42, no. 3. Avila, Eric. 1997. “‘The Hottest Battle in California since the War with Mexico’:  The Dodgers Come to Los Angeles.” In “Reinventing Los Angeles: Popular  Culture in the Age of White Flight, 1940–1965,” 110–72. PhD diss., University  of California, Berkeley. ———.  2004.  “Suburbanizing  the  City  Center:  The  Dodgers  Move  West.”  In  Popular Culture in the Age of White Flight: Fear and Fantasy in Suburban Los Angeles, 145–84. Berkeley: University of California Press. Barnes,  Robin.  1990.  “Race  Consciousness:  The  Thematic  Content  of  Racial  Distinctiveness  in  Critical  Race  Scholarship.”  Harvard Law Review  103:  1864–71. Bell, Derrick. 1987. And We Will Not Be Saved: The Elusive Quest for Racial Justice.  New York: Basic Books. ———. 1992. Faces at the Bottom of the Well: The Permanence of Racism. New York:  Basic Books. 173 Yosso and García ———. 1995. “Who’s Afraid of Critical Race Theory?”  University of Illinois Law Review 4, 893–910. Bender,  Steven  W.  2003.  Greasers and Gringos: Latinos, Law, and the American Imagination. New York: New York University Press. Boehm,  Mike.  2003.  “Requiem  for  the  Ravine:  A  Latino  Community  Once  Flourished Where Dodger Stadium Stands. Its Still-Debated Demise Fuels a  New Play.” Los Angeles Times, May 18, E1. Bourdieu, Pierre, and Jean-Claude Passeron. 1977. Reproduction in Education, Society, and Culture. London: Sage. Broyles-González,  Yolanda.  1994.  El Teatro Campesino: Theater in the Chicano Movement. Austin: University of Texas Press. Burciaga,  José  A.  1993.  Drink Cultura: Chicanismo.  Santa  Barbara,  CA:  Joshua  O’Dell. ———.  1995.  Spilling the Beans: Lotería Chicana .  Santa  Barbara,  CA:  Joshua  O’Dell. ———. 1997. In Few Words (En Pocas Palabras): A Compendium of Latino Folk Wit and Wisdom. Ed. Carol Christensen and Thomas Christensen. San Francisco:  Mercury House.  Ceja,  Miguel.  2004.  “Chicana  College  Aspirations  and  the  Role  of  Parents:  Developing Educational Resiliency.”  Journal of Hispanic Higher Education 3,  no. 4: 338–62. Council  on  Interracial  Books  for  Children.  1977.  Stereotypes, Distortions, and Omissions in U.S. History Textbooks. New York: CIBC. Crenshaw, Kimberlé. 1989. “Demarginalizing the Intersection of Race and Sex: A  Black Feminist Critique of Antidiscrimination Doctrine, Feminist Theory and  Antiracist Politics.” University of Chicago Legal Forum, 139–67. ———. 1993. “Mapping the Margins: Intersectionality, Identity Politics, and the  Violence Against Women of Color.” Stanford Law Review 43: 1241–99. Delgado, Richard. 1984. “The Imperial Scholar: Reflections on a Review of Civil  Rights Literature.” University of Pennsylvania Law Review 132: 561–78. ———. 1992. “The Imperial Scholar Revisited: How to Marginalize Outsider Writing,  Ten Years Later.” University of Pennsylvania Law Review 140: 1349–72. ———,  ed.  1995.  Critical Race Theory: The Cutting Edge.  Philadelphia:  Temple  University Press. Delgado, Richard, and Jean Stefancic. 2000. “Latino/a Critical (“LatCrit”) Legal  Studies:  Review  Essay.”  Aztlán: A Journal of Chicano Studies   25,  no.  2:  161–79. ———. 2001. Critical Race Theory: An Introduction. New York: New York University  Press. Delgado  Bernal,  Dolores.  1997.  “Chicana  School  Resistance  and  Grassroots  Leadership: Providing an Alternative History of the 1968 East Los Angeles  Blowouts.” PhD diss., University of California, Los Angeles. ———. 1998. “Using a Chicana Feminist Epistemology in Educational Research.”  Harvard Educational Review 68, no. 4: 555–82. 174 Community Cultural Wealth in Culture Clash’s Chavez Ravine ———. 2001. “Living and Learning Pedagogies of the Home: The Mestiza Consciousness of Chicana Students.” International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education 14, no. 5: 623–39. ———. 2002. “Critical Race Theory, LatCrit Theory, and Critical Raced-Gendered  Epistemologies:  Recognizing  Students  of  Color  as  Holders  and  Creators  of  Knowledge.” Qualitative Inquiry 8, no. 1: 105–26. Delgado-Gaitan, Concha. 1992. “School Matters in theMexican American Home:  Socializing Children to Education.” American Educational Research Journal 29,  no. 3: 495–513. ———. 1994. “Socializing Young Children in Mexican-American Families: An  Intergenerational Perspective.” In Cross-Cultural Roots of Minority Development,  ed. Patricia Greenfield and Rodney R. Cocking, 55–86. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence  Erlbaum. ———. 2001. The Power of Community: Mobilizing for Family and Schooling. Boulder,  CO: Rowman & Littlefield.  Elam, Harry J. Jr. 2001.  Taking It to the Streets: The Social Protest Theater of Amiri Baraka and Luis Valdez. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Elenes,  C.  Alejandra,  Francisca  Gonzalez,  Dolores  Delgado  Bernal,  and  Sofia  Villenas.  2001.  “Introduction:  Chicana/Mexicana  Feminist  Pedagogies:  Consejos, respeto, y educación.”  International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education 14, no. 5: 595–602. Espinoza, Leslie G. 1990. “Masks and Other Disguises: Exposing Legal Academia.”  Harvard Law Review 103: 1878–86. ———. 1998.  “Latino/a Identity and  Multi-identity: Community and  Culture.”  In  The Latino/a Condition: A Critical Reader, ed. Richard Delgado and Jean  Stefancic, 17–23. New York: New York University Press. Faulstich Orellana, Marjorie. 2003. In Other Words / En otras palabras: Learning from Bilingual Kids’ Translating/Interpreting Experiences. Evanston, IL: Northwestern  University, School of Education and Social Policy. Freire, Paulo. 1970. Education for Critical Consciousness. New York: Continuum.  ———. 1973. Pedagogy of the Oppressed. New York: Seabury Press. Gándara, Patricia. 1982. “Passing through the Eye of the Needle: High-Achieving  Chicanas.” Hispanic Journal of Behavioral Sciences 4: 167–79. ———. 1995. Over the Ivy Walls: The Educational Mobility of Low-Income Chicanos.  Albany: State University of New York Press. García,  David  G.  2006a.  “The  Evolution  of  a  Critical  Race  Theater:  Culture  Clash and Chicana/o Performance Art, 1965–2005.” PhD diss., University of  California, Los Angeles. ———. 2006b. “Remembering Chavez Ravine: Culture Clash and Critical Race  Theater.” Chicano-Latino Law Review 26: 201–20. Garcia,  Jesus. 1980.  “Hispanic  Perspective:  Textbooks  and  Other  Curricular  Materials.” History Teacher 14, no. 1: 105–20.  Gilbert,  Myrna  J.  1980a.  “Los  parientes:  Social  Structural  Factors  and  Kinship  Relations among Second-Generation Mexican Americans in Two Southern  California  Communities.”  PhD  diss.,  University  of  California,  Santa  Barbara. 175 Yosso and García ———. 1980b. “Communities within Communities: Social Structural Factors and  Variation in Mexican-American Communities.” Hispanic Journal of Behavioral Sciences 2, no. 3: 241–68. Giroux,  Henry.  1983.  “Theories  of  Reproduction  and  Resistance  in  the  New  Sociology of Education: A Critical Analysis.” Harvard Educational Review 55:  257–93. Glenn,  Antonia  G.  2002.  “Comedy  for  These  Urgent  Times:  Culture  Clash  as  Chroniclers of America.” TheatreForum 20 (Winter/Spring): 62–68. Gómez-Quiñones,  Juan.  1973.  “The  First  Steps:  Chicano  Labor  Conflict  and  Organizing 1900–1920.” Aztlán: A Journal of Chicano Studies 3, no. 1: 13–49. ———.  1977.  On Culture.  Popular  Series,  no.  1.  Los  Angeles:  UCLA  Chicano  Studies Research Center. ———. 1994.  Roots of Chicano Politics, 1600–1940. Albuquerque: University of  New Mexico Press. González, Gibert G. 1990. Chicano Education in the Era of Segregation. Philadelphia:  Balch Institute Press. ———. 1997. “Culture, Language, and the Americanization of Mexican Children.”  In  Latinos and Education: A Critical Reader, ed. Antonia Darder, Rodolfo D.  Torres, and Henry Gutiérrez, 158–73. New York: Routledge. Gonzalez, Norma, and Luis C. Moll. 2002. “Cruzando el puente: Building Bridges  to Funds of Knowledge.” Educational Policy 16, no. 4: 623–41. Gonzalez, Norma, Luis C. Moll, Martha F. Tenery, Anna Rivera, Patricia Rendon,  Raquel Gonzales, and Cathy Amanti. 1995. “Funds of Knowledge for Teaching  in Latino Households.” Urban Education 29, no. 4: 443–70. Gotanda, Neil. 1991. “A Critique of ‘Our Constitution Is Color-Blind.’”  Stanford Law Review 44: 1–68. Gutiérrez-Jones, Carl. 2001. Critical Race Narratives: A Study of Race, Rhetoric, and Injury. New York: New York University Press.  Heller, Cecilia. 1966.  Mexican American Youth: Forgotten Youth at the Crossroads.  New York: Random House.  Hines, Thomas S. 1957. “Battle for Chavez Ravine.” Frontier: The Voice of the New West, June, 136–37.  ———. 1982. “Housing, Baseball, and Creeping Socialism: The Battle of Chavez  Ravine, Los Angeles, 1949–1959.” Journal of Urban History 8, no. 2: 123–43. hooks, bell. 1990.  Yearning: Race, Gender, and Cultural Politics. Cambridge, MA:  South End Press. Kondo,  Dorinne.  2000.  “(Re)Visions  of  Race:  Contemporary  Race  Theory  and  the Cultural Politics of Racial Crossover in Documentary Theatre.”  Theatre Journal 52: 81–107.  Ladson-Billings, Gloria. 2000. “Racialized Discourses and Ethnic Epistemologies.”  In Handbook of Qualitative Research, ed. Norman Denzin and Yvonna Lincoln,  257–77. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Lewis, Oscar. 1959.  Five Families: Mexican Case Studies in the Culture of Poverty.  New York: Basic Books. Loewen, James W. 1995. Lies My Teacher Told Me: Everything Your American History Textbook Got Wrong. New York: New Press.  176 Community Cultural Wealth in Culture Clash’s Chavez Ravine Lopez, Ronald W. 1999. “The Battle for Chavez Ravine: Public Policy and Chicano  Community  Resistance  in  Postwar  Los  Angeles,  1945–1962.”  PhD  diss.,  University of California, Berkeley. Los Angeles Times. 1951. “Settlement Losing Battle for Its Life: Bitter Residents of  Chavez Ravine Slowly Yield to Housing Project.” August 20, part II, 1. Lucas,  Ashley.  2006.  “Chavez  Ravine:  Performed  History  in  Los  Angeles.”  In  “Performing  the  (Un)Imagined  Nation:  The  Emergence  of  Ethnographic  Theatre  in  the  Late  Twentieth  Century,”  84–123.  PhD  diss.,  University  of  California, San Diego.  Madsen,  William.  1964.  Mexican-Americans of South Texas.  New  York:  Holt,  Rinehart and Winston. Margolis,  Eric,  and  Mary  Romero.  1998.  “‘The  Department  Is  Very  Male,  Very  White, Very Old, and Very Conservative’: The Functioning of the Hidden  Curriculum in Graduate Sociology Departments.” Harvard Educational Review  68: 1–32. Matsuda, Mari. 1989. “Public Response to Racist Speech: Considering the Victim’s  Story.” Michigan Law Review 87, no. 8: 2320–81. ———. 1991. “Voices of America: Accent, Antidiscrimination Law, and a Jurisprudence for the Last Reconstruction.” Yale Law Journal 100: 1329–1407. Moll, Luis C., Cathy Amanti, Deborah Neff, and Norma Gonzalez. 1992. “Funds  of Knowledge for Teaching: Using a Qualitative Approach to Connect Homes  and Classrooms.” Theory into Practice 31, no. 2: 132–41. Montoya, Margaret. 1994. “Mascaras, trenzas, y grenas: Un/masking the Self while  Un/braiding Latina Stories and Legal Discourse.” Chicano-Latino Law Review  15: 1–37. Morales, Ed. 2002. Living in Spanglish: The Search for Latino Identity in America. New  York: St. Martin’s Press. Morris,  Jerome.  1999.  “A  Pillar  of  Strength:  An  African-American  School’s  Communal  Bonds  with  Families  and  Community  Since  Brown.”  Urban Education 33, no. 5: 584–605. Normark, Don. 1999.  Chavez Ravine, 1949: A Los Angeles Story. San Francisco:  Chronicle Books. Olivas, Michael. 1990. “The Chronicles, My Grandfather’s Stories, and Immigration  Law: The Slave Traders Chronicle as Racial History.”  Saint Louis University Law Journal 34: 425–41. Olmedo, Irma M. 1997. “Voices of Our Past: Using Oral History to Explore Funds  of  Knowledge  Within  a  Puerto  Rican  Family.”  Anthropology and Education Quarterly 28, no. 4: 550–73. Pizarro, Marcos. 1998. “‘Chicano Power!’ Epistemology and Methodology for Social  Justice and Empowerment in Chicana/o Communities.”  International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education 11, no. 1: 57–80. ———. 2005. Chicanas and Chicanos in School: Racial Profiling, Identity Battles, and Empowerment. Austin: University of Texas Press. Roman,  David.  1997.  “Latino  Performance  and  Identity.”  Aztlán: A Journal of Chicano Studies 22, no. 2: 151–67.  177 Yosso and García Rueda,  Robert,  L.  D.  Monzo,  and  I.  Higareda.  2004.  “Appropriating  the  Sociocultural Resources of Latino Paraeducators for Effective Instruction with  Latino Students: Promises and Problems.” Urban Education 29, no. 1: 52–90. Russell, Margaret. 1992. “Entering Great America: Reflections on Race and the  Convergence of Progressive Legal Theory and Practice.” Hastings Law Journal  43: 749–67. Salvucci,  Linda  K.  1991.  “Mexico,  Mexicans,  and  Mexican  Americans  in  Secondary-School United States History Textbooks.” History Teacher 24, no.  2: 203–22. Sánchez, George J. 1993. Becoming Mexican American: Ethnicity, Culture, and Identity in Chicano Los Angeles, 1900–1945. New York: Oxford University Press. Shohat, Ella, and Robert Stam. 1994. Unthinking Eurocentrism: Multiculturalism and the Media. London: Routledge.  Simmons, Ozzie G. 1974.  Anglo-Americans and Mexican Americans in South Texas.  New York: Arno Press. Solórzano,  Daniel  G.  1992.  “Chicano  Mobility  Aspirations:  A  Theoretical  and  Empirical Note.” Latino Studies Journal 3: 48–66. ———.  1997.  “Images  and  Words  That  Wound:  Critical  Race  Theory,  Racial  Stereotyping,  and  Teacher  Education.”  Teacher Education Quarterly  24,  no.  3: 5–19.  Solórzano, Daniel G., and Dolores Delgado Bernal. 2001. “Critical Race Theory,  Transformational  Resistance,  and  Social  Justice:  Chicana  and  Chicano  Students in an Urban Context.” Urban Education 36: 308–42. Solórzano,  Daniel  G.,  and  Octavio  Villalpando.  1998.  “Critical  Race  Theory,  Marginality, and the Experience of Minority Students in Higher Education.”  In  Emerging Issues in the Sociology of Education: Comparative Perspectives, ed.  Carlos Torres and Theodore Mitchell, 211–24. Albany: State University of  New York Press.  Stanton-Salazar, Ricardo D. 2001. Manufacturing Hope and Despair: The School and Kin Support Networks of U.S.-Mexican Youth.  New  York:  Teachers  College  Press. Tatum,  Charles  M.  2006.  Chicano Popular Culture: Que hable el pueblo.  Tucson:  University of Arizona Press.  Valdes, Francisco. 1997. “Poised at the Cusp: LatCrit Theory, Outsider Jurisprudence  and  Latina/o  Self-Empowerment.”  Harvard Latino Law Review  2,  no.  1:  1–59.  ———.  1998.  “Under  Construction:  LatCrit  Consciousness,  Community  and  Theory.” La Raza Law Journal 10, no. 1: 1–56. Valencia,  Richard  R.,  and  Daniel  G.  Solórzano.  1997.  “Contemporary  Deficit  Thinking.”  In  The Evolution of Deficit Thinking in Educational Thought and Practice, ed. Richard R. Valencia, 160–210. New York: Falmer Press. Vélez-Ibáñez, Carlos, and James Greenberg. 1992. “Formation and Transformation  of Funds of Knowledge among U.S.-Mexican Households.” Anthropology and Education Quarterly 23, no. 4: 313–35.  178 Community Cultural Wealth in Culture Clash’s Chavez Ravine Villalpando,  Octavio,  and  Daniel  G.  Solórzano.  2005.  “The  Role  of  Culture  in  College Preparation Programs: A Review of the Literature.” In  Preparing for College: Nine Elements of Effective Outreach, ed. William Tierney, Z. Corwin,  and J. Kolyar, 13–28. Albany: State University of New York Press. Villenas, Sofia, and Melissa Moreno. 2001. “To valerse por si misma between Race,  Capitalism,  and  Patriarchy:  Latina  Mother-Daughter  Pedagogies  in  North  Carolina.”  International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education  14,  no.  5:  671–88. Williams, Robert. 1997. “Vampires Anonymous and Critical Race Practice.” Michigan Law Review 95: 741–65. Yosso, Tara J. 2002. “Critical Race Media Literacy: Challenging Deficit Discourse  about Chicanas/os.” Journal of Popular Film and Television 30, no. 1: 52–62. ———. 2005. “Whose Culture Has Capital? A Critical Race Theory Discussion of  Community Cultural Wealth.” Race Ethnicity and Education 8, no. 1: 69–91. ———.  2006.  Critical Race Counterstories along the Chicana/Chicano Educational Pipeline. New York: Routledge. Yosso, Tara J., and Daniel G. Solórzano. 2005. “Conceptualizing a Critical Race  Theory  in  Sociology.”  In  The Blackwell Companion to Social Inequalities,  ed.  Mary Romero and Eric Margolis, 117–46. Oxford: Blackwell. Zinn,  Howard.  1995.  A People’s History of the United States: 1492–Present. New  York: Harper Perennial. 179 ...
View Full Document

This note was uploaded on 10/23/2011 for the course SOC 10 taught by Professor Dunn during the Spring '10 term at UC Riverside.

Ask a homework question - tutors are online