Choosing my profession as an educator in Higher Education is rooted in my family’s teachings.  I am the son of farmworker immigrants from Zacatecas, México, and I was born and raised in Ventura County in California.  I grew up playing la escuelita with my sisters during summer breaks, and as the youngest of nine, I took seriously the role of teacher when my sisters allowed me to. I recall hearing family members recite various dichos (sayings) to illustrate their talking points.  One of the dichos, “El pueblo que pierde su memoria, pierde su destino,” which roughly translates to  “the people who forget their past, forfeit their future,” has an important life lesson: remembering our history is our active refusal to lose sight of our future.  Although I probably didn’t understand the meaning of the dicho the way I do today, I was constantly learning from my family.

I understand the profession of being an educator as a calling; from elementary through high school, I felt attracted to educating and I would often take note of the assignments and activities that teachers gave us. In high school, my goal of becoming an educator was solidified.  During my freshman year, I got involved with student led efforts to protest California’s Proposition 187, an anti-Latina/o and anti-immigrant bill that would have denied social services, including education, to undocumented immigrants.  Proposition 187 impacted my direct kin, peers, and communities I lived in.  During our organizing efforts on campus, most teachers would publicly humiliate those of us opposing Proposition 187. Several administrators threatened us with egregious actions, like expulsion, violating our constitutionally protected right to protest.  I remember deciding that fall that I wouldn’t be like them.

Proposition 187 was found unconstitutional, and I remained active in social justice efforts after that year.  After high school, I attended Moorpark Community College. Then I transferred to UCLA.  As an undergraduate student, I took courses in Chicana/o and Latina/o Studies where I learned about the history of People of Color in the United States and beyond.  These courses were the first time I learned about my family and community history in my educational trajectory.  The courses validated and explained my family’s migration stories, their dichos, and contributions to history. As an undergraduate, I worked with Dr. Juan Gómez-Quiñones, and I quickly understood that I could also be a professor in a higher education institution.  I went on to receive my M.A. in Latin American Studies, and then my Ph.D. in Education, under the advisement of Dr. Daniel G. Solórzano.

Challenging Ahistoricism

I chose to be a professor because higher education provides a platform to teach, conduct research, and provide service to the university and communities we serve.  I was trained in critical race theory in education by Dr. Solórzano, and at the heart of my research agenda is the commitment to challenge ahistoricism, when dominant narratives exclude or distort the contributions and lived experiences of Communities of Color.  In the United States, ahistoricism is rampant and traditional.  Minoritized groups are constantly left out or stereotyped in mainstream historical narratives. For me, challenging ahistoricism means intentionally researching, writing, and teaching about minoritized peoples.  I understand the dicho referenced above, as the consequence of ahistoricism, because communities don’t willfully forget their history. There are dominant narratives in schools that omit and distort them.

My research interests are two-fold.  First, I research Chicana/o Latina/o student activism in higher education during the 1990s, specifically the historical significance of establishing Chicana/o and Latina/o Studies departments and cultural centers.  My research uses oral history and archival methods to map the leadership strategies that students, faculty, community leaders, and administrators employed. My second area of research interrogates the role of critical pedagogy in higher education.  I am interested in queer, feminist, and ethnic studies’ theoretical and evidence-based research that maps how learning takes place in higher education and in office hours.

I teach undergraduate, masters, and doctoral students at Cal Poly Pomona.  My students are interested in a number of professions, ranging from social work to engineering to education, among many others.  I see my role as an educator to expose my students to social justice topics, so that they enter their professions with a social justice lens.  My pedagogical goal is to train students to apply what they learn in their professions.  For example, future social workers are encouraged to consider the ways that practices and policies disproportionately impact minoritized communities, especially those that are unhoused and/or working poor.

Building Community

According to the National Center for Education Statistics (NCES), Latinas/os/xs comprise 6% of full-time faculty in degree-granting higher education institutions.  In part, this dauntingly low number is what inspired the American Association for Hispanics in Higher Education (AAHHE) to establish the Faculty Fellows Program (FFP).  I was selected to be part of the 2016 AAHHE FFP cohort.  That was my first time attending AAHHE and it reminded me of my first time sitting in a Chicana/o Latina/o Studies course, but this time, I was in a space with other Latina/o/x tenure-track faculty members and I didn’t have to translate or justify my research and challenges.  The FFP built community, engaged us in discussion for our tenure process, and encouraged us to give back to our communities.  I left the conference feeling like I had made new friends that understood my profession’s challenges and possibilities.  I left feeling like I belonged in academia as a first-generation Chicano professor.

I received tenure in summer of 2020, at the height of the Black Lives Matter movement.  Of course, I reflected, I would receive word of my tenure during a global movement for racial justice, considering my research agenda.  Most recently, I have been appointed as the co-chair of the FFP with my colleague Dr. Marcela Cuellar, associate professor at UC Davis.  I see this as an opportunity to pay it forward, and contribute to the decades of efforts AAHHE has made to celebrate, support and engage Latina/o/x resiliency in higher education.