Director Diego Luna’s Cesar Chavez underscores the point that no matter how powerless we feel, we always have the power to decide who we are.
Cesar Chavez portrays the hardships of the immigrant worker and Chavez’s struggle to help farm workers secure higher wages and more humane working conditions. When Chavez (Michael Pena) peacefully organizes Delano’s farm workers, their resolve is tested as they are arrested, run down with cars and even shot.
Pena’s performance captures the anguish of a Mexican-American stretched between his pride as a husband and father who chooses not to protect his often-threatened family in the traditional macho way and his commitment to meet violent intimidation with non-violence. Chavez’s non-violent approach, however, not only creates a rift between him and his followers, it strains the loyalty of his wife (America Ferrera) and alienates his oldest son (Eli Vargas).
Chavez’s non-violent methods also cause a rift among the members of S.Q. Reviews when we meet in the back lot behind San Quentin Prison’s education department. Juan Meza characterizes the movie’s message as American propaganda designed to promote a world that can’t challenge U.S. power.
“America is always promoting heroes that suit them,” Meza says. “If the hero isn’t white, he’s always non-violent. George Washington and Daniel Boone shot their enemies in the face, but America’s idea of a heroic Mexican is a guy who looks dignified while you pee on his shoes.”
Eyebrows rise among the reviewers. Each is a lifer who wants to parole one day, and to go on record as a proponent of violence is a bad pre-board plan.
“I thought the non-violence message was powerful,” says Rahsaan Thomas. “It shows us how we can beat injustice in America.”
Meza disagrees. “We can beat American corruption by lying down and letting them poop on us,” he says sarcastically. “No – I’m always of the argument that you meet guns with guns. When Sitting Bull defeated the U.S. at Little Big Horn, he didn’t want to fight. But he knew he had to go to war to have peace.”
“Sitting Bull won a battle,” Emile DeWeaver says. “But can you name one person who won a war on U.S. soil through force of arms?”
Meza can’t think of anyone
We can understand Meza’s indignation. It does feel unjust that there seem to be two standards of heroism when we read American history.
“I know injustice,” DeWeaver says. “It’s immediately satisfying to respond with violence, but look where it’s gotten me long-term. And, I could mount an argument about why I was right. Let’s say I was justified. I’d be 100 percent right and still 100 percent serving a life sentence. How does that move me closer to a solution?”
Thomas agrees. “There’s enough good in the system to fix the system if we work together. But, if you fight fire with fire, then you both look like dragons. Then people start choosing sides, and it doesn’t matter who’s right. If you kill my dad, I don’t care if he’s wrong. But if Dad is alive, I can vote against him and help you.”
It’s easy to side against Meza, knowing his position is unpopular in the American mainstream, but to judge him is to miss the movie’s point. We all have a choice. It’s less about whether we fight oppression with non-violence and more about taking responsibility for the men we want to be and the world we want to create.
On a scale of one to five dinner cookies, Cesar Chavez rates two and a half cookies.
Contributors:
Emile DeWeaver, Rahsaan Thomas, Juan Meza
