When Leaders Disappoint
Reflection on the first Farmworkers’ Day that is not Cesar Chavez Day
A couple of years ago, my husband and I took our oldest son on a trip to the Grand Canyon. We drove there, and the route took us right by La Paz, an historic monument in the Tehachapi Mountains, a place we had never visited. The area was beautiful, with large expanses of land, a garden and fountain near the front of the property, where Cesar Chavez and his wife, Helen, are buried. I was moved by the stories of the farm workers’ rights movement, the leaders who sacrificed so much to protect their communities. As an Anabaptist myself and a firm believer in nonviolent resistance, I was inspired by the lengths these individuals went to for a cause they believed in and by the community they built in the process. We weren’t able to tour the house, but we did go out to see it, a humble home on a large parcel of land, a place where so many people were fed and cared for, where there was rest and joy in between hard work and sometimes very little successes to celebrate. As someone working to end human trafficking, I felt kinship with the people in these stories who were fighting for the same rights that, 60 years later, we are still advocating for. I stood in that visitor center thinking about the long arc of justice of which Dr. King spoke. I stood thinking about that right outside the office of Cesar Chavez, looking at his library of books, his desk, his photos and awards on display.
I had no idea it was the office where he had abused young girls.
The New York Times broke the first story just a few weeks ago, and Chavez’s co-laborer in the workers’ rights movement, Dolores Huerta, has confirmed that she was also victimized. Much of our valley and the nation has been rocked by this news. Responses have been swift, from Fresno State removing Chavez’s statue to several murals being painted over. Discussion has begun about what to even call this day, which used to be Cesar Chavez Day. Many have suggested that it be called Dolores Huerta Day in honor of her work, especially now that we know the extra burdens she carried. In California, it is now known as Farmworkers Day, a name that honors the individuals who were always meant to be central to the movement.
I am not the right person to speak about the UFW or the plight of migrant workers and their struggle for justice. There are plenty of people embedded in that work with so much knowledge, and their voices should be elevated, certainly starting with Dolores Huerta, who, at 95 years old, is still advocating for equal treatment for laborers. What I can do, however, is help us look at patterns that appear in this case and also in the cases we work with all the time.
Power Dynamics
Cesar was powerful. It’s ironic to say that, given the way he was labeled and mistreated by the dominant culture himself, but as the face of the movement, he developed an untouchable persona. He was racist and sexist and engaged in harmful cultish practices with his team, and all of it was overlooked or excused because of who he was. If these behaviors were dismissed, what hope is there of a young girl being believed about her abuse? She couldn’t simply say no to him when her whole community was wrapped up in his success. Who was she supposed to tell? This is precisely what our participants face. When your family knows about this person’s behaviors and doesn’t stop them, when your church tells you your harm is a result of your sin, when you are already perceived as “the bad kid” at school, who exactly are you supposed to report to? So instead, survivors endure until they can break free. This is why it takes so long to tell their stories – it’s simply not safe until then.
Elevating Charismatic Leaders
We do this in our country, attach names to movements, and build statues for people who captured public attention. We give television shows to content creators and political power to Hollywood celebrities. We do this in the church, too, which is why men like Mark Driscoll and Doug Wilson continue to dominate the news, not because of their public witness, but because of their clickbait. Tim Ballard gets movies made about him because he draws a crowd, even while individuals who participate in the activities that formed the basis for Sound of Freedom are harmed. When will we learn?
Letting the Mission Take Priority Over the People
n hindsight, it is hard to imagine that people around Chavez didn’t know. 12-year-old girls went into his office, right past security, locked the door, and came out 30 minutes later, and no one wondered? Of course, they didn’t wonder – they knew. There were rumblings for years about Chavez’s abuses, but everyone was afraid to negatively impact the mission. Just today, I heard an interview with one of these girls who is now in her sixties. After detailing what happened to her and the impact it had, she finished by apologizing to the Chavez family for speaking out. This is the kind of burden survivors of trafficking and abuse face all the time. They are so aware of the impact that speaking up might have on systems and on people. Abusers know this, and they use it to keep them quiet. “You don’t want to be the reason your uncle goes to jail, do you?” “Don’t speak publicly about these concerns – go to your sister in private (usually accompanied by a proof-text of Matthew 18) so you don’t ruin her reputation.”
What are we talking about?! Deb isn’t responsible for tarnishing Chavez’s legacy, Cesar is. The victim didn’t put her abuser in jail, the abuser’s actions did. Speaking about harm is never more offensive than the harm. When a movement becomes more important than the people it’s meant to serve, we have lost the plot. Jesus didn’t die for a slogan.
Someone Always Has To Speak First
These women were always there, suffering mostly in silence, until one of them decided it was time to speak. Once she did, another voice joined her, and then another. This is what we witnessed in Fresno with survivors of Made for Them, what we have seen in the Epstein Files, the Catholic Church, the Southern Baptist Convention, USA Gymnastics, the Boy Scouts, and on and on. In every situation, there were always people who knew, but it never changed until a survivor spoke. My goodness, I hope we change that. I hope we create a world where people who witness abuse are willing to put their own necks on the line instead of requiring the ones who have already carried the burden to keep doing it.
My encouragement today is that we make space for lament. We aren’t good at this. Even Christians have trouble with this one, and I am firmly convinced we cannot create change until we learn to grieve the reality of what is. We cannot rush to a solution without letting the problem penetrate our souls. We are so trained to look for solutions, to seek comfort, to numb the pain that we have become afraid of tragedy, and yet still it comes. What if we try something different? What if today we commit to taking time to let the reality of the situation break us? It doesn’t mean we are destroyed, it means we are fertile ground for something new to grow, but only if we can face the truth and not run from it. Lament was the starting point for Jesus (Matthew 23, Matthew 27, John 11), and it can be for us, too.
In the words of Psalm 13, “How long, oh, Lord?