[Credit: Nancy De Los Santos; courtesy of Chicana por mi Raza]
Nancy De Los Santos writes: Dolores Huerta was always there.
For more than 70 years, this person of small stature filled the thousands of rooms she entered as a civil rights activist, union organizer, and labor leader, playing a major role in the collective history of our community, our country, and our lives.
Beginning as an organizer with a Stockton, California, civil rights group, Dolores eventually cofounded the National Farm Workers Association in 1962, which became United Farm Workers (UFW) of America shortly after. She was fearless and committed, negotiating collective bargaining agreements and contracts with growers while igniting a movement across the country that won farmworkers their rights.
I first saw Dolores in the fall of 1973 when she spoke at a UFW rally at the University of Illinois Chicago. It was a few years after the movement took hold in the Midwest, as people worked to build solidarity with California farmworkers. Latino students across Chicago were organizing boycotts, hunger strikes, and marches against non-union produce and the grocery chains, like Jewel-Osco, that sold it.
I was a college student photographing for Contra la Pared, the Chicano student union newspaper at Northeastern Illinois University, and I snapped a photograph of her speaking to a spellbound audience of hundreds.
It was a defining moment in my life that planted the seed of activism in my heart. Dolores reminded us that we could—no, must—work to change the world. She showed me that it was a good thing to use my voice, to speak up. After seeing her, I joined the boycotts for years and encouraged my family and friends to do the same.
I was fortunate to have several encounters with Dolores over the next four decades: political rallies and fundraisers, media award ceremonies, and the annual LatinaFest in 2023, a gathering of Latina authors, artists, and entrepreneurs in Los Angeles. Dolores was the keynote speaker, and although it was raining, over two hundred women lined up to hear her speak. She did not disappoint. Her voice rang out over the rain patter.
After the event, I thanked her for joining us and asked for a photo, even though I looked like a wet noodle. Dolores didn't mind the raindrops; she smiled.
Dolores's 90-plus years never kept her from a commitment. She continued to organize, march in protests, run her foundation, and travel across the country to speak on issues around race, poverty, and the rights of women and LGBTQ+ people.
The last time I saw Dolores was in November 2025. We were attending a screening of Samaritans, a documentary our mutual friend, David Damian Figueroa, made about U.S.-Mexico border volunteers. Dolores readily supported filmmakers and artists. I was thrilled when she told me she was proud of my own work as a filmmaker. That was Dolores—always elevating and uplifting.
Top left: Two young protestors holding a UFW flag during a protest in Chicago, circa 1975
Bottom left: Northeastern Illinois University students at a UFW protest, walking down the street, in Chicago, circa 1977
Right: Dolores Huerta raising fist at UFW rally, University of Illinois Chicago, circa October 1973
Credit: Nancy De Los Santos; courtesy Chicana por mi Raza
After the screening, I invited her to present a keynote address at the Latinas in Leadership Symposium in Connecticut with three months' notice; she didn't blink at traveling across the country. Jotting down her cell phone number, she said, “Call me with the details." She was just that kind of person: trusting, loving, giving. She was everything at once: a hero and a neighbor, a leader and a friend, a mother and a woman.
As we left close to midnight, one of Los Angeles's sudden rainstorms threw buckets of rain on us. I shared my umbrella and asked if she was staying downtown—a short ride away. She replied, “Oh, no. We have a breakfast meeting in Bakersfield tomorrow at 7. We're driving back tonight.”
“Driving back" meant two hours over a mountain range that frightens me in the daytime. She was 95.
We’ve heard the cautionary advice: “Never meet your heroes. You’ll always be disappointed.” Not so with Dolores Huerta. Disappointing? ¡Nunca!
The late Latina superstar Selena, no matter how many fans or how late it was, was known for offering each person a smile, an autograph, and a photo to treasure. Dolores also always said yes to every photo request. She didn't leave the event without taking one more picture with a new friend, a waiter, or a mariachi player. Along with the digital photo came a hug, a handhold, and always her eyes locked on yours. She made me, and everyone else, feel important to her and to the world.
Each one of us mattered to Dolores, and you could feel it. She showed that each one of us had a responsibility to help set the world right—to fight against racism, sexism, and unfair labor practices. And she would accept nothing less.
She often ended her speeches on stage with a rallying question: "Who's got the power?!” Audience members would join as one with a heartfelt reply, "We got the power!"
Dolores was here. And because she was, so many of us understood that we could be here, too.
¡Sí se puede!
