CHAPTER 7

Fe y Esperanza: Sustained by Faith and Hope

IN MY FAMILIA, THE phrase “Está en las manos de Dios” (It’s in God’s hands) was never far from my mother’s lips. My brother Chris needed a baseball outfit; a stray dog wandered in, and David couldn’t bear to part with him; my class needed costumes for the school play. And where were the cookies for the church social? “What are kookees?” my mother would ask. No matter what the challenge, somehow she always managed to get what was needed for her eight children and to help others in the community as well.

God looked after her. How else could Celia María Bordas have ended up in the three-bedroom house at 3713 West Platt Street in Tampa, Florida—not far from the same ocean waters that lapped up onto the Caribbean shores where she was born—if God hadn’t put her there?

Generations of Latinos simply believed in God’s providence and guidance. In fact, my Tía Anita summed up her fe (faith) in six words. When asked about what was going to happen or something that was planned, she always prefaced it with “Sí Dios quiere” (If God wants this to happen). After the event happened, her response was “Gracias a Dios” (Thanks be to God). So, coming or going, she had it covered.

The waters of Hispanic spirituality run deep. Fe is a deep-seated thread that permeates everyday life and prescribes how people should treat one another. Building on the generosity, mutuality, and service orientation of their We cultural roots, Latino spirituality is a mandate for social responsibility—to do good for others and to help others in need. Arturo Vargas recounts, “Even to this day, my mother is packing up a bag of nonperishables to take the church because it’s the first Sunday of the month. We’re supposed to take food for the hungry, and I’m thinking, ‘Mama, you don’t have that much yourself.’”

Esperanza—Hope, Gratitude, and Celebration

WHEN I WAS A child, mis padres sang a favorite lullaby, “Ay, ay, ay, ay, canta y no llores” (sing, don’t cry). They taught me that when you’re facing hard times, singing will change your attitude and get you through them. How amazing that despite their hard work and meager resources my parents were telling me to sing and be happy. Canta y no llores also nurtures a can-do attitude, fosters perseverance, and encourages people to stick together—all valuable leadership traits.

In his book Emotional Intelligence, Daniel Goleman defines optimism as the greatest motivator, because it expresses a strong expectation that things will turn out all right despite setbacks and frustrations. He cites research that optimistic people tend to be more successful.¹

Optimism is esperanza (hope), an essential Latino quality. This was validated by a New York Times/CBS News poll noting that 75 percent of Latinos believed their opportunity to succeed was better than that of their parents. Only 56 percent of non-Hispanics thought this was true. Additionally, 64 percent of Latinos thought life would be better for their children. This jumped to 83 percent for Hispanic immigrants but was only 39 percent for non-Latinos.² Optimism is Hispanic immigrants coming to a strange land, struggling to learn English, and working difficult jobs while never faltering in their belief that things will get better. Hispanic optimism is being sustained by younger generations: 75 percent of Latinos ages eighteen to thirty-five believe the standard of living for their children will be much better or somewhat better than their own.³

One of our young leaders, Congressman Ritchie Torres, speaks on how hope sustains him, “How I grew up I call Mission Impossible. A single mother raising three children on a minimal income remained hopeful in the face of real deprivation. In some sense it was a miracle. It’s the triumph of hope that inspires and sustains me every day.”

Latinos are optimistic because of our upward mobility. Compared to the low-income situation many Latinos grew up in, our future is bright. My house is the nicest I have ever lived in. I have more disposable income and nicer things than my parents. Optimism is kept alive by our sense of gratitude and celebratory nature, which we will consider as we continue.

Way back in the early eighties, as a young leader, I designed Mi Carrera (My Career), a nontraditional jobs program for high-risk teenage Latinas, funded through the US Department of Labor. The program was chosen to be replicated across the country. That year, however, President Ronald Reagan was elected. Federal funds were frozen. Mi Carrera was kaput. But we had to do something to save this valuable program! We gathered supporters, threw a big community fiesta to celebrate our accomplishments, and announced Mi Carrera’s continuation. Like a magnet, this optimism drew supporters and funders. (We operated on 36 percent of the previous year’s budget—a testimony to Hispanic do-more-with-less and resourcefulness.)

And milagros (miracles) happened! I was sitting in my office, pondering how to pay a counselor to monitor summer jobs. In walked Lisa Quiroz, a student at Harvard University, who wanted to work for the program that summer. “¡Dios mío! You would be perfect, but we don’t have money to pay you,” I exclaimed. Her mind started clicking, “If you can pay me a stipend, I can get another job and make it work.” Lisa was the perfect role model. And as we noted in our section on destino, she graduated, worked for Time Warner, and established Time for Kids magazine, which melded her concern for youth and education. Latinos believe that doing good comes back to you.

Canta y no llores reminds Latinos that by staying positive, by singing and dancing together, we can overcome difficult situations. Leaders tap into this optimism to inspire and motivate people to work together even when the odds are stacked against them.

Gracias—Gratitude and Thanksgiving

Gratitude was deeply ingrained in early Mestizo-Hispanic culture, in which just surviving was a blessing indeed. Even before the European conquest of this hemisphere, the seeds of gratitude were nourished by Indigenous people. The two meanings of gracias (“grace” as well as “thank you”) imply that to be happy and to live in what Christians refer to as “a state of grace,” one must be grateful. Gracias a Dios, a cherished philosophy of life (and my Tía Anita’s mantra), was always a common refrain in conversation. Gratitude encompasses an appreciation for parents, familia, the community, the antepasados, and the blessing of children.

“Gracias a la Vida” (Thanks to Life), a treasured song by Chilean artist Violeta Parra, is steeped in this spirit of thankfulness. The song thanks life for our ability to see and hear and to have feet to walk with; for cities, puddles, beaches, deserts, mountains, plains, the stars in the heavens; for the alphabet and words so we can communicate; and for our mothers, friends, brothers, and sisters. We are grateful for both smiles and weeping because they allow us to distinguish happiness from sorrow. The ending affirms, “Thanks to life that has given me so much.”⁴

Expressing gracias is a great gift that Latinos bring to America—an antidote to the raging materialism that is dividing our nation into a land of haves and have-nots. It is the opposite of taking more than one’s share. Gratitude allows people to be generous and give back. Like a spiritual salve, gracias can soothe the cultural angst that comes from always wanting more “stuff” than one has. By focusing on thankfulness, Latinos have been able to maintain a deep-seated optimism among people who sometimes had little economic means or resources. Gracias anchors the Latino Sí se puede (Yes we can!) spirit.

Spirituality as Celebration

Gozar la vida (Enjoy life), a principle we will explore, encompasses leadership as celebration, and this tendency springs from Latino spirituality, which has many community celebrations, ceremonies, and rituals that stem from their Indigenous tradition and the Catholic Church.

In the Catholic tradition, Latinos are named for saints, and each saint has a special day on the calendar. Your saint’s day is akin to your birthday—and another reason to celebrate! Every Latin American country also has a patron saint, and people get a day off to commemorate their santo. (Note: my feast day is June 24, the feast of St. John.)

The small island of Puerto Rico has only 311 miles of coastline, but it may have more patron saints per capita than any other place on earth. Each town has a festival patronal (patron saint festival). Add up the number of towns on the island and you’re talking about a festival every week. Throw in the fact that the party tends to go on for days, and you will understand the lively tropical spirituality of Puerto Rico.

Rituals such as El Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) glow with elaborate altars, special foods, marigold flowers, multitudes of candles, music, and remembrances of people’s ancestors. On the night of November 1, people pray, eat, and ask for guidance from their ancestors. The next day, there is a community celebration during which people dress up in costumes and dance all night, traveling from house to house with a banda in tow. These festivals weave history, culture, and community into a spiritual celebration that strengthens people’s ability to collaborate and do the hard work of community organizing.

When I was a budding teenager, my abuela came to visit from Nicaragua. Every night, she would gather us together and my hands would go up like a church steeple as we repeated the mantra “Holy Mary, mother of God,” praying the rosary. The holy mother was our protector and nurturer and ensured that our life would be good.

Celebration was evident in the farm workers’ strikes of the 1960s. Their long marches and demonstrations were spiritual processions, with a statue of Our Lady of Guadalupe leading them as they sang “De Colores.” César Chávez encouraged them: “Let us bring forth song and celebration so the spirit will be alive among us!”⁵ Hope, gratitude, and celebration transformed oppression and need into an enduring faith in life’s goodness.

Spirituality as Responsibility Toward Others

THE HUMANISTIC, PEOPLE ORIENTATION of Latinos, their values of service, compassion, and responsibility toward others, and their profuse generosity are all grounded in their spiritual beliefs. Janet Murguía reflects, “Early on, my parents helped me develop a sense of responsibility in caring for others. They really instilled in me and my brothers and sisters a sense of caring not only for the family but also for our neighborhood and community.” Chávez made the connection between individual contributions and community service: “Being of service is not enough. You must become a servant of the people.”⁶ This was part of my upbringing as well. If I was unhappy, my mother, in her simple but wise way, would say, “Get busy and do something for somebody else.”

Latino spirituality centers on relationships and responsibility for others. In fact, the truest sentiments of the Christian faith follow in this vein. People are described as brothers and sisters and are urged to feed the hungry, give shelter to those in need, and take care of the sick. Spirituality is a moral obligation to ensure others’ well-being and the collective good. For Latinos and other communities who have dealt with inequities, spiritual responsibility implies removing the obstacles that limit opportunity. Social and political action is intertwined with spiritual responsibility.

Archbishop Óscar Romero of El Salvador was part of the liberation theology movement that interlaced social justice and responsibility, particularly for the poor in Latin American countries.

Federico Peña adhered to this commitment: “I saw my life as one of helping people who were being discriminated against and had no voice.” Speaking out on immigration, he connects religious faith with how we treat others: “For those of us who attended religious worship this past weekend, we should conduct a full moral gut check as we watch immigrant workers wither in our deserts, drown in our rivers, and die on our highways. . . . I believe that great people live by their moral and ethical principles every day. I believe that a nation earns respect when it shows compassion and decency.”⁷

César Chávez elevated the farm workers’ strikes with such traditional religious practices as pilgrimages, fasting, retreats, public prayers, and worship services. Perhaps Chávez explained the integration of faith and social action most succinctly. During the huelga (farm workers’ strike), when asked how they would achieve their goals, he said, “We’re going to pray a lot and picket a lot.”⁸ The leader as community steward and social activist is rooted in spiritual responsibility.

Three Spiritual Virtues: Courage, Humility, and Forgiveness

THE INTEGRATION OF FAITH, social responsibility, activism, and celebration is the spirit of Latino leadership. Now let’s consider three virtues that flow from this orientation: courage, humility, and forgiveness.

Faith Inspires Courage

Latino advancement has required hard work, determination, and the courage to do what is right. Vargas reflects on this: “We must be bold—make unpopular decisions and battle infrastructures that keep our community from progressing.” Social activism requires courage, which gives people the strength to face dangers and difficulties. Courage is required every time we try something new, battle the odds, or stand up for injustice. Immigrants, for instance, show tremendous courage by coming to a foreign land.

Courage also comes from having strong convictions: right makes might. Moral courage is developed through right action and by making choices and decisions that align with our values and beliefs.⁹ This underscores the significance of leadership preparation and conciencia. Like the roots of the great ponderosa, your core values, your history, and the trials and tribulations of those who came before can ground you and give you courage when you have difficult decisions to make or must go against the tide.

Murguía finds courage in her faith: “Con Dios por adelante, todo es posible [With God’s help, forward, all things are possible]. And so, for me it was a sense that we shouldn’t believe people anytime they say ‘You can’t do that’ or ‘No,’ but to know all things are possible with God’s help.” Murguía went from a humble barrio in Kansas City to working in the White House—all the while keeping faith and service central in her life.

Hilda Solis concurs, “We are a very spiritual people. I look to my faith to guide me in many decisions. I’m able to rely on that when I am in difficult conversations, when I’m being challenged, or when I may have to set myself apart from other people because I’m going to say something or do something that may not sit well with a lot of people. My faith gives me courage.” (Solis was the first woman to receive the Profile in Courage Award from the John F. Kennedy Foundation.)

Without the gift of hope, Latinos would not have had the courage to stand up against the inequalities of the past. Leaders must dispense hope, because if people are not hopeful, they won’t act to change things. Hope and courage are the keystones for the social activist nature of leadership.

Humility

I asked Raul Yzaguirre what he would say if he were speaking to a group of Latinos about our special contribution and what we should hold on to. His answer surprised me: “A sense of humility, modesty, and courtesy.” And then he went on to say, “A truly complete human being is one who treats the maintenance worker with the same kind of respect and dignity that he affords the president or CEO.” Yzaguirre was defining the leader as equal, which we will detail as we continue. To embody this perspective, leaders must be humble, accept their own shortcomings, and appreciate the inherent worth of others.

Arturo Vargas also recognizes humility as essential. “Leadership—for me it’s about clarity of purpose, courage, and being humble. Without humility there is the risk of leadership becoming a cult of personality.” US Representative Lucille Roybal-Allard certainly could have taken that path—many people in power do. Instead, she was groomed by her father, Edward Roybal, the first Hispanic elected to Congress in California. He served thirty years and was a staunch advocate for civil rights and people’s issues. Her father would remind her, “Never forget where you came from.” Today, Roybal-Allard remains true to her father’s advice. “I can see where it would be very easy to get caught up in the glory of Washington. It’s really important to remember who you are, who you represent, and why you are there.”

Leaders who are clear on their purpose, who put an issue or a cause first, and who serve something greater, lessen their self-importance. Anna Cabral observes, “Latino leaders think about the broader good and are not so focused on individual success but rather, How do we achieve success for the larger community?” This shifts the focus from the individual leader to the people he or she serves. Humility is the essence of servant leadership, where the people’s needs come first.¹⁰

Many Latino leaders come from or have family members from a lower economic status and humble background. Their padres or abuelos overcame Herculean obstacles to provide the opportunities they have today. Latinos, therefore, value humility and look for that quality in their leaders. In collective cultures, humility allows the leader to connect with people and to be seen as one of them. If a leader focuses on I rather than We, this damages the collective identity and group empowerment. Carlos Orta says, “Good leaders have empathy. They’ve put themselves in other people’s shoes. It goes beyond caring. You have to understand where people are coming from and how your decisions are going to impact them.”

Humility does not imply that a leader does not know her worth. It is an understanding that the gifts one was given should be placed at the service of others and that in the last analysis everything a person accomplishes is because of the support and help she has received. Murguía clearly understands this: “In the Latino community, we have this sense that we never do this alone. We rely on family, we rely on community, but in the end we rely on that higher being to help get us through the darkest times and to illuminate our path, and for me that’s always been true.”

Forgiveness and Healing

In part I, we explored the history of the conquest and the colonization of Hispanic ancestors. These antecedents provided the backdrop for leadership aimed at changing oppression. This chapter surmises that it was the spiritual roots of Latino people that gave them the hope and strength to overcome adversity. Now we will consider forgiveness, which entails the healing of historical traumas. Forgiveness has strengthened and nourished the spiritual roots of Latino people.

The story of Our Lady of Guadalupe brought together Catholic and Indigenous beliefs and laid the foundation for the unique brand of Latino spirituality that emerged in this hemisphere. Guadalupe’s message was one of perseverance, hope, compassion, and racial and cultural integration. These qualities are intrinsic to Latinos’ faith today and are reflected in their leadership practices.

Guadalupe’s lowered eyes and supplicating hands invoke humility. She speaks to a peasant and not a Spanish high official, thus negating the church hierarchy in which access to God was through the priests and sanctified officials.

As a Mestiza, Guadalupe represented the vision and promise of the future—a healing force that planted seeds of forgiveness and compassion. Today, Latinos recognize that the blood of the Spanish conquistadores runs through our veins—they are our ancestors. Their influence is present in the language we speak and in many positive aspects of our culture. Rejecting this heritage would be to deny an integral part of ourselves. Bringing the Spanish into our cultural familia, however, requires the reconciliation of historical transgressions (including the trauma of my grandmother and so many other Indian women).

Our Lady of Guadalupe is the face and image of the mestizaje, of the forced cultural integration and fusion that took place. Yet her message is of compassion, hope, and inclusion. She is perhaps the reason that Latinos are the only people of color in the Americas who have made peace with their oppressors, embraced their multiple racial backgrounds, and courageously look their history straight in the eye.

Forgiveness allows people to begin anew, to birth new understandings and new pathways. Forgiveness releases and heals the past. The vibrancy, resilience, productivity, and energy of the Latino culture is the result of the complex, historically painful, and yet genetically powerful mestizaje. Forgiveness has allowed Latinos to reconcile the past, have gratitude for what we have today, and be optimistic for the future. Forgiveness is also a wise and magnanimous leadership trait.

Part IV offers five principles that structure leadership with a higher sense of community, deep social responsibility, and a strong sense of service. Leadership is a collective process that builds internal and external coalitions. This is the foundation for juntos, leadership by the many, which garners the critical mass needed for social change. It is a blueprint for the civic engagement and citizen participation urgently needed today.

The hard work of leadership is renewed through gozar la vida, which brings people together in celebration and replenishes their resolve to work for long-term change. Chapter 11, “El Cìrculo: Inclusiveness Across Generations,” accentuates the new dimensions young Latinos bring to leadership. They are following centuries of Latino activism and are dedicated to dismantling social structures that hinder equity, inclusion, and the common good.