Faces of the West County: Alicia Sanchez, Part 2

The second part of our two-part interview with community organizer, union activist and attorney Alicia Sanchez

Alicia Sanchez, left, with the late Edythe Briggs, center, and Karen Einstein during a Friday noon protest on the corner of Hwys. 116 and 12.

Read Part 1 of this two-part interview here.

Community organizer Alicia Sanchez is a busy woman. It was difficult to find time in her schedule of meetings, telephone calls, and grandmotherly duties to get her to sit down again to talk about her fascinating life. I was already seated at our designated spot, Cafe Moore, outside in the new spring sunshine, when Alicia rolled in. We exchanged pleasantries—including “How’d you sleep?”—which opened up a whole new window on Alicia’s life.

How’d you sleep?

Alicia: Well, last night was okay, but the day before I only went to sleep at 6:30 in the morning.

6:30?! How come? What did you do all night? 

Alicia: I read. Junk. Mystery books mostly. Played some video games and watched seven episodes of some series with two women. I can’t even remember the name. The reading finally put me to sleep … I can get by on 4-5 hours of sleep. That’s just the way it’s always been. 

Since when? 

Alicia: Originally, it was because I had to get good grades, because my dad got me to believe that education would be the only path out of poverty. I’d get out of school around 3:30 and get home where food would be waiting on the table. After eating, I’d go to the sofa where my dad would bring me a cup of coffee. We’d watch some shows together, like Sea Hunt and Bonanza, and I’d translate for him. Then, around 7:00, I’d go to sleep, and at 11:00, my dad would wake me up, and I would start studying. I’d go till about 3:00 am, then catch a bit more sleep, before getting up to go back to school. So I’ve always been a night owl. 

Alicia, I’ve known you as one of the local Women in Black. You’re about the last one of them to show up at the main intersection in town every Friday at noon for the weekly peace vigil that’s been there for decades. Tell us about that. 

Alicia: I began going to the corner after 9/11, and the war that followed that, so that’s more than 20 years. You know, that was an especially strange time. My brown skinned brother in Berkeley used to get anti-Arab things yelled at him. One day he rolled down his window and yelled back “I’m not Arab! I’m Mexican!” In those days, we were 30-40 women down on the corner who stood in silence for the hour. You know, it’s a demonstration that’s all over the world, Women in Black. It started in Jerusalem with Jewish and Palestinian women protesting the occupation and all victims of violence, together. We never respond to anyone who might yell something at us, or flip us the bird. There really are no words to express the violence we are there to protest. We were, and still are, mourning all acts of violence. 

I told a story, when I got honored by being put on the Peace Wall. It was from when I was standing on the corner one day. 

A white woman in a beat-up pickup truck, drove up to us. She looked pretty rough herself. She stopped at the light and saw that my sign was in Spanish. 

“You should be grateful for the people across the street” (counter protesters on the opposite corner from the Women in Black, who were more right-leaning, Tea Party supporters, conservative, patriotic in a flag-waving sort of way) “because they gave you the right to stand here and protest. You probably don’t even speak English!” 

I just stood there looking down. “Look up!”, she shouted. “You should be thanking those people!” 

Some guy on a bicycle, who was standing there watching all this, told me to respond, but none of us said anything to the woman. Of course I wanted to respond, and tell her about myself, and my law degree, and what I did for work, and that we brown people are growing and it’s you who should be afraid and not me at that moment. 

I looked up, and then down again, and she yelled again, “Look up!” And I did look up, and right into her eyes, but only with compassion for her. She saw that, and that I only felt sorrow for her hatred of people of color. … I hope I had more of an impact with my silence, than with all the ugly words in my head. 

Have times changed much since then? 

Alicia: On the corner? Not really. We still get the middle finger thrown at us, and stupid taunts, but it’s mostly people who express support and gratitude. There aren’t many of us standing these days, but we feel there are many people there with us in spirit.

You know, I’ve been involved in the peace and justice movement for about 60 years! From the time I could speak English I’ve been using it to defend people. I’ve seen lots of defeats, but plenty of victories too. That gives me strength. If it wasn’t for all the people fighting for justice, I don’t know what sort of world we’d have. 

You are quite the dynamo who does not appear to be afraid or intimidated. Are you concerned about the divisions between right and left in this country?  

Alicia: I’m not afraid of the fear that the right is trying to instill. I’m convinced that left or right, we humans are essentially good, and that goodness and compassion will prevail. 

The enemy isn’t another person. The enemy is capitalism and imperialism. Those two things are what’s given birth to the racism, sexism, and the divisions between us. To win, we have to focus on what we have in common, not what divides us. 

Sounds like you’ve been going to church. Do you?

Alicia: Yes, I do. We go to the Sebastopol Community Church. It gives me strength. I don’t go there because of my faith in God. That comes with or without church. My spirituality is a private thing. I go because it is a progressive institution. The church feeds my political soul more than my spiritual soul. 

Bernie and I were at church once, and I’m reading along with whatever we were reading in the Bible, and I was struck by the beauty of the passage. Well, I looked up and said, maybe a bit too loudly, “This is some good shit.” Bernie looked scared like we were about to get struck down. (Alicia laughs.)

This might surprise you, but, my mother loved Fiddler on the Roof. We must have watched that film 30 or 40 times. Tevye, played by Topol, who just died, he reminded me of my dad. Tevye had the same relationship with God as my father did, and as I do. It’s a very personal relationship. I talk with God all the time. 

What’s better now? 

Alicia: I feel like there’s more activism among young people. They get the need for climate change, and gun control, and reproductive rights. And they get the urgency. That gives me hope. 

They don’t have the same hang ups about race and sexuality and class issues that we used to have. That’s all heading in the right direction. 

I don’t feel cynical about the future. The fight for rights is very much alive. You know, the great response to the injustice of those two lawmakers in Tennessee who lost their seats in the statehouse, that gives me more hope than despair. 

As a longtime union organizer, are you feeling the upswing in unionizing efforts? 

Alicia: Oh yes!!!  And I’m so happy. There is absolutely an increased awareness of the need for workers to have a greater say. The service industries in particular are awakening. And it’s a younger more multicultural workforce who are standing up for a living wage. 

That said, there are still so few agricultural workers under contract around here. The United Farmworkers have recognized the need to organize again after a long period of not being very aggressive. All unionized sectors are awakening. 

One last area I want to touch on. Last time we spoke, you mentioned the idea of Language Justice. Even though my wife is an ESL teacher, that’s something I hadn’t thought of. 

Alicia: That’s the central focus of my life these days. I got involved with KBBF 12 years ago as a board member. I knew the founders back in ’73 when it first began. In ’86, after I returned from law school, I’d use KBBF to reach the Spanish speakers to inform them about unionizing issues. Since 2010, I’ve been a full-time volunteer. I’m the station manager, board president, and janitor!

I’ve tried to quit, really, but I guess it’s just too important to me. Bernie really believed in public radio, not commercial. I too came to believe that. 

The vision of KBBF is to create a multilingual voice to engage and empower the community through education, celebration of culture, and telling the news, both international and local. We are especially a critical voice for Spanish listeners during times of crisis. During fires, floods, COVID shutdowns, all sorts of disasters. 

We broadcast in three different Mexican languages: Trique, Mixteca, and Chatino, in addition to Spanish. 

Does KBBF broadcast alerts when ICE is active someplace? 

Alicia: Yes, we have, but it’s been very quiet for the last year or so. 

And the migrant farmworkers? 

Alicia: Of course, we reach them as well. 

Get this. There is an H2 agricultural worker program, and Santa Barbara County and Sonoma County, are the two places with the most abuses and trafficking of H2 workers. They end up displacing the longterm field workers. 

But that’s a whole other conversation for another day. 

I’d like to be a bit more impartial about my gratitude for all your activism and leadership, but I’m not. I’m one of many who are truly grateful for your efforts. 

Alicia: You know, I feel like I shouldn’t just be at meetings, but out in the streets protesting and organizing. I feel like I’m losing my soul. 

Bernie and I went out dancing last Saturday. We love to dance. It’s some sort of swing. Anyhow, I went to the bathroom at some point, and met some Mexican women in there who were cleaning the place, and we began talking about life, and how hard it can be. Well, about  15 or 20 minutes later, I hear Bernie calling for me from outside the restroom. 

I thanked the women for the conversation. It invigorated me even more than the dancing. Those are the people who inspire me. For 30 years my life was talking with workers and figuring out how to make their lives better. 

Well, Alicia, that’s exactly what you’ve done for me, and I hope a few of our readers. You have invigorated us. Many thanks for opening up and being so frank. See ya Friday on the corner! 

KBBF, which by the way is the first bilingual public radio station in the country, can be found at kbbf.org.  They welcome donations.