The recent accusations of sexual abuse committed by late United Farm Workers co-founder Cesar Chavez has forced a painful reckoning for the women who grew up carrying the organization’s red and white flag.
Many of their mothers and grandmothers did backbreaking work in the agricultural breadbasket of the San Joaquin Valley, a place where the shadow of the man they believed in still looms.
Those revelations mean coming to terms with key questions: How do you grieve a hero, defend the women he harmed, protect a movement that outlives him, and keep showing up — all at the same time?
At a luncheon in Modesto that had been planned to honor the Cesar Chavez holiday, more than 100 community members answered that question not by staying home, but by walking through the door and confronting the issue directly.
What was planned as a celebration of the former civil rights icon’s holiday became something different entirely at the Red Event Center in Modesto, as organizers quietly but deliberately rebranded to the “Si Se Puede” luncheon in the final days before its doors opened.
When allegations of rape and sexual abuse against the late UFW co-founder surfaced publicly a month ago — corroborated by the union’s other co-founder Dolores Huerta herself — the organizing committee made a swift decision.
Focus on the farmworkers instead of the man
“We changed the event because it was going to be the celebration of Cesar Chavez state holiday,” said lead organizer Maggie Mejia. “But when we found out about the allegations, we switched everything around. We decided to stay focused on the movement.”
Ysaura Bernal-Enriquez, a longtime farmworker advocate in the Central Valley, felt shaken and like her whole world had shifted when she learned of the allegations against Chavez.
“I felt shock, grief, devastation, filth, I cried heavily,” she said. “It just keeps going over in my mind. How could this be? But you have to accept the reality. The courage of these women to come out, including Dolores Huerta and the accusations they made absolutely shook the farmworkers movement.”
The shock rippled far beyond the luncheon. Nora Zaragoza-Yáñez is the program manager at Faith in the Valley and overseer of the Valley Watch Network, the region’s rapid response hotline which tracks immigration enforcement. She works with farmworker and immigrant families and said rumors had circulated for decades — but the public confirmation still stung.
“A lot of people didn’t want to see him in that light,” she said. “But I always go back to the cause. The cause isn’t one person. The farmworker movement is the farmworkers.”
Her family’s own history with Chavez reflects a community that eventually had to choose between the man and the mission. Her father and grandparents were volunteer organizers in Merced County who helped bring Chavez to the region to address labor rights violations. But in the early 90s, they began to sense something was off.
This was especially true when Chavez began pushing rhetoric against undocumented immigrants.
“This movement is far greater than (Cesar Chavez) as a person,” she said. “Yes, we acknowledge you’ve done good things, but we’re also seeing this rhetoric, and that’s the last straw. You can’t do that.”
Back then, Zaragoza-Yáñez’s family was met with concern – but strictly from an image standpoint. Hence, they were told by people in the movement that their disagreements with Chavez could lead to harming the cause.
“We’re leaving,” she said. “We can continue advocating outside of this movement to advance the movement, without Chavez.”
Zaragoza-Yáñez, who studied public health, framed the work ahead in terms she uses in her advocacy every day: moving from reactive, downstream solutions to preventative, upstream change. She pointed to the persistent inequities facing farmworker communities — lack of safe drinking water, food deserts, limited healthcare access, exposure to pesticides without proper protections — as the real unfinished business of the movement Chavez helped launch.
“They always get the crappy end of the stick, always,” she said. “The healthiest and safest communities aren’t necessarily the ones with the most police presence. It’s having access to green space, to healthy food, to programs for the whole family.”
Bernal-Enriquez agreed, emphasizing that the farmworkers who marched, picketed, and in some cases died for the movement deserve an advocacy infrastructure that outlasts any single leader.
“That’s what it was all about,” she said. “There still isn’t enough recognition or rights for them. We have to keep advocating.”
Tackling machismo culture in Latinx communities
Advocates say a cultural shift is needed so men who use their power and influence to escape consequences finally face accountability.
“A lot of our community members still have this very hierarchical, colonial viewpoint,” Zaragoza-Yáñez said. “It’s about time people stop covering for men in positions of authority who get away with things.”
That will require the tacking of machismo culture, which is deeply ingrained in many Latinx communities.
Machismo emphasizes the importance of male chauvinism and having a highly masculine identity leading a household, according to the Zacharias Sexual Abuse Center.
But its rhetoric is deeply misogynistic and belittles women to be subordinate and submissive. Machismo can also foster a culture of shame and silence which allows abusive leaders to justify their behavior as part of their masculine leadership role.
Zaragoza-Yáñez said her father and male family members made sure she understood the difference between “macho” and “machista.” She described a “macho” as a male figure who takes the well-being of the family and strives to make sure that that is always at the forefront. Whereas a “machista,” she said, is an authoritarian.
“Everyone in my family is going to do my will and my bidding,” she said. “Only my opinion matters; you don’t have a say in things.”
This, she said, is why recentering the farmworker movement around the women who built it is essential to continuing to advocate for their community.
“Women are very empowered and intelligent and fully capable of advocating for themselves,” Zaragoza-Yáñez said. “If we really want an equitable stake in society, in every arena, then these types of movements need to be centered around women.”