This photograph captures Dr. Ricardo Bogaert-Alvarez in a moment of true conviction. He is mid-reading the poem "Oh Americano," his hand raised emphasizing the urgency of his words. I took this photo during a Su Teatro's WordFest, which I attended as a CALMA intern. I witnessed how storytelling can serve as both a reflection and catalsyt for social change. During the event, I heard "Oh Americano" for the first time. This poem calls for courage, unity, and responsibility in th

A poem written in May 2026

March 31 is the birthday of Cesario Estrada Chavez, the Chicano labor union organizer who gained fame in the 1960's and 70's for his achievements in the farm fields of California and the five-year-long grape boycott. After service in the U.S. Navy, Cesar, with Dolores Huerta and other activists, created the United Farm Workers, the UFW, the first viable agricultural worker union in the country. The UFW is eclipsed now, but it did have a strong impact on worker rights in the U

Americano There’s no room for tears today Believe in your heart Don’t have to be a soldier To fight against injustice Americano There’s no room for fear today Raise up your forehead You can make a difference In our troubled society Americano There’s no room for hate today In our troubled minds This is time to link our hands To strive hard for our future Americano There’s no room for doubt today These times need your voice These times need your clear vision These times n

Ricardo LaFore and Ernesto Alvarado, Musicians and Poets at St. John Frances Chapel Regis University

I remember my mom telling me that when she was a child growing up in Walsenberg, Colorado, how her teachers would hit kids on their outstretched fingers if they were caught speaking Spanish, either in the classroom or anywhere else on school grounds. She told me how, because of the constant humiliation she experienced, she'd promised herself she wouldn't teach her kids Spanish. In her youth, she was affected by what I call, "internalization of inferior status." Her opinion of

Recently, I was asked how I decided what to write and how I approach the subject. I had never given this much thought but it appears I write about what is happening where I am. During the height of the Chicano Movement, I wrote and presented my poetry at rallies, meetings, and evening sessions with other poets. In the 1980s I worked on a Ph.D. and wrote three thirty-page term papers every three months to fulfill the requirements for my doctorate. Before I retired as a tenured

My heart was pounding, not from fear like in these present times, but with excitement. No companion necessary, I had no worry of being hijacked by the cartel. The only delay, a quick stop, the driver opened the door and a line of thirsty, desperate migrants walked into the bus and quickly sat on the empty seats. My heart raced, not knowing what was going on. I stretched my neck and stared toward the driver, the other passengers behind me, and in front of me. No one said a wor