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The luchador's mask is not just a face cover; it's an identity, a conduit connecting the wrestler with the audience, a symbol of honor to be protected at all costs. A wrestling match doesn't just end with a defeat; sometimes, it ends with a loss of the mask, a disgrace that overshadows any physical torment.
Lucha Libre isn't merely a sport; it's a cultural celebration, an art form that shapes and colors the Mexican canvas of life, where the heroes and villains from the ring live on as murals on the walls, characters in TV shows, and even as action figures in a child's game.
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Entering this vibrant, high-energy world requires more than courage. It demands an ironclad commitment to physical excellence, an artist's flair for dramatic storytelling, and an acrobat's grace. A luchador or luchadora must master the art of engaging in combats that demand intense athleticism while ensuring they provide a thrilling spectacle rather than an actual physical altercation.
For many years, Lucha Libre was a dance that only men were allowed to perform. The ring resonated with the footfalls of the male luchadores, while women could only watch from the stands. But then came the luchadoras, claiming their rightful place in the ring.
The journey of the luchadoras in Lucha Libre commenced during the mid-twentieth century. These audacious women first graced the ring in the 1940s and 1950s, participating in what was then termed "exhibition matches."
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They were oddities, curiosities meant to amuse rather than engage the audience. Yet, these were the pioneers, the early luchadoras who dared to dip their toes in the testosterone-infused waters of Lucha Libre, setting the stage for future generations of women wrestlers.
Lucha Libre is rich with stories of luchadoras who have distinguished themselves in the wrestling ring with their unique talents and captivating performances. Irma González is a remarkable example, a woman of many masks: Flor Negra, Rosa Blanca, La Tirana, La Dama del Enfermero, La Novia del Santo, and Emperatriz Azteca. Lola González is another luminary, a luchadora who etched her name into the annals of Lucha Libre with her signature moves and unmatched tenacity.
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Stepping into the ring today, you'll find luchadoras like Marcela, Princesa Sugehit, and Zeuxis, who are adding their unique chapters to this exciting narrative. They've earned a reputation for their formidable wrestling techniques and a keen sense of showmanship that lights up the ring.
Global recognition has come calling too. Luchadoras such as Sexy Star and Faby Apache have impressed audiences beyond Mexico. Their performances resonate on an international scale, drawing attention to the fascinating world of Lucha Libre and inspiring more women to explore this intriguing profession.
Luchadoras are often seen as disruptors, as they defy deeply entrenched beliefs about femininity and a woman's place in society. For many, the sight of women executing high-flying maneuvers, engaging in physically intense combats, and showcasing raw power remains an unconventional image. However, through consistent excellence and display of courage, the luchadoras have won hearts and minds.
It’s essential to point out that the challenges for luchadoras extend beyond societal perceptions. There are the grueling physical demands of Lucha Libre that demand peak physical fitness and agility. Luchadoras have to train just as hard, if not harder, than their male counterparts to ensure they can meet the exacting requirements of the sport.
And they must do so while navigating a system that often undermines their efforts or overlooks their accomplishments.
For example, women frequently find themselves assigned to the earlier rounds, rather than the prime-time, headline slots. As a consequence, they often face lower paychecks compared to their male counterparts. Wage disparity, limited opportunities, and lack of representation are just some of the additional battles these brave women face outside the ring.
Yet, in spite of these challenges, they remain undeterred. With every dropkick, body slam, and flying maneuver, they assert their rightful place in Lucha Libre. As they continue their journey, they reinforce the true essence of Lucha Libre – an unremitting battle for honor and respect.
The story of the Chavez Ravine displacement has been well-documented, but it has taken over 70 years for those affected to see some kind of acknowledgment. In recent years, descendants of marginalized communities in California, who founded the nonprofit organization Buried Under the Blue, have had success seeking reparations for land that was taken from them, and this bill is a reminder that the hard work they’ve put in hasn’t been in vain.
A panoramic view of Chávez Ravine, showing the residential community. The Los Angeles Civic Center is visible in the background. Photo by Leonard Nadel, courtesy of the Photo Collection, Los Angeles Public Library.
The Shameful Displacement of the Chavez Ravine
The Chavez Ravine, the land on which the Dodger Stadium has been standing for 62 years, used to be a vibrant community of Mexican Americans. Despite being labeled a "poor man’s Shangri La," it was a self-sufficient city covering over 300 acres. However, in the early 1950s, the Los Angeles City Housing Authority set its sights on it for redevelopment.
Claiming “urban renewal,” residents of the Chavez Ravine received letters demanding the sale of their homes for a proposed housing project called “Elysian Park Heights.” Many of the residents were promised housing when the project was completed, but most of them received a small compensation or nothing at all. The displacement of the Chavez Ravine was violent and traumatic, as people were forcibly removed from their homes, which were later demolished.
One of the figures of Latino resistance who stand out in this dark episode of L.A. history is Aurora Vargas, known as “Lola,” who reportedly said, 'They'll have to carry me [out].” That’s exactly what they did, prompting the infamous image of Vargas being carried out by a group of deputies as she refused to leave her home behind, fighting until the last moment. Vargas wasn’t the only one who resisted, and the displacement was marked by adults and children screaming and crying hysterically.
Several Chávez Ravine residents fought eviction, including Aurora Vargas, who vowed that, "they'll have to carry me [out]." Here, L.A. County Sheriffs forcibly remove Vargas from her home. Bulldozers then knocked over the few remaining dwellings; four months later, ground-breaking for Dodger Stadium began. Photograph dated May 8, 1959.Herald-Examiner Collection/Los Angeles Public Library Collection
The promised housing project never came to be because once the land was cleared, the owner of the Brooklyn Dodgers, Walter O’Malley, saw the opportunity to secure the land for a fraction of what it was worth. Eventually, the Dodger Stadium was built, betraying the promises made to the Chavez Ravine residents who ended up homeless, struggling to get back on their feet.
What Does This Chavez Ravine Accountability Act Mean?
Written by Assemblywoman Wendy Carrillo, a Democrat from Los Angeles, the “Chavez Ravine Accountability Act” is the response to long-standing demands from organizers and descendants of the displaced families for restitution. If passed, a nine-member task force will be created to oversee the compensation process for all the families.
The bill emphasizes the injustice displaced families experienced, emphasizing that they weren’t only removed from their homes, but also deprived of the opportunity to own homes and create intergenerational wealth. Moreover, it offers different forms of compensation for the families, including city-owned land or fair-market-value payments.
Another key aspect of the bill is that, if passed, it will lead to the establishment of a permanent memorial at the site to honor the displaced families and preserve the memory of their communities. Additionally, a searchable database detailing the history of land acquisition will be created to facilitate the verification of eligible recipients.
Photos by Assembly member Wendy Carrillo
Press conference and protest for families displaced from #ChavezRavine, LA.
The bill has garnered support from descendants of the displaced families, including Melissa Arechiga, Jeannie Arechiga, and Vincent Montalvo, who founded the nonprofit organization Buried Under the Blue to raise awareness about the displacement's legacy. While the Arechigas and Montalvo are grateful for this step in the right direction, they’re also advocating for the Dodgers to be involved in the reparations because they continue to benefit from the land.
What Comes Next?
While the introduction of this bill is a significant milestone, there’s still a long way to go. The legislative process is long and the bill requires consideration by the California Assembly's Judiciary Committee, approval by both chambers of the State Legislature, and the signature of Governor Gavin Newsom before it can become law.
For advocates and the affected community, the bill validates their efforts and it means a step toward rectifying a historical injustice that has been ignored for so long. It also echoes the strength and spirit of resistance shown by people like Aurora Vargas, and it offers the families hope for healing after their lives were altered so drastically.
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What was similar in how people wore hoops was the way in which they wore them to express their devotion to their Gods. Individuals would decorate their hoops with symbols that paid homage to specific Gods, a tradition that continues in many cultures, including Asian and Latin-American countries.
Yes, your virgencita hoops count, and that’s a tradition that began long before Latinas were wearing hoops. Since ancient times, hoops have been part of the way individuals show up to the world. Whether to demonstrate status, devotion, or fashion, hoops have been an important part of history.
It’s no surprise, then, that hoops have become a symbol of resilience in the lives of brown and Black individuals. Owning a pair of hoops as a kid is almost a right of passage for many Latinas. Your ears are pierced as soon as your mother can get someone to do it, and a pair of studs or micro-hoops are placed on your ears as training wheels.
For many Latinas, showing up unapologetically with our values and beliefs is represented in a pair of hoops. So while some might see hoops as a trendy statement piece of jewelry, Latinas recognize them to be so much more than that.
For some Latinas who consider hoops to be a part of their identity, they also feel the need to stop wearing them to be taken seriously. That is, until women like Congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez started pushing the boundaries of what is and is not socially acceptable to wear. AOC made it a point to show up in her hoop earrings and, in many ways, validate the identity of so many Latinas who had previously felt the need to keep their hoop earrings tucked away in their jewelry box and reserved for the weekend. Some even considered her wearing hoops a “radical act.”
No matter how they’re styled or the size you wear, remember that hoops carry thousands of years of history. They’re a fashion symbol worth being proud of. They carry generational history, struggles, and pride that make Latinas more resilient in their day-to-day life.
It might just be a style of jewelry for some, but for Latinas, it’s a reminder to show up unapologetically.
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