Declaring our Existence: Central Valley ¡Presente!

Representation is more than just visibility; it is a declaration of existence, a refusal to be

erased. It is a statement that we are here and that we matter. I have spent my entire adult life watching my home, the Central Valley, be overlooked, underestimated, and misunderstood.

When I tell people I’m from California, they assume I mean Los Angeles or the Bay Area, never

the land that feeds the nation. The need for visible, regional, representation has weighed on my mind and heart for what feels like a lifetime. True representation is not just about numbers; it is about presence with influence. It includes race, ethnicity, culture, age, gender, sexual orientation, social class, diversity of experience, skin color; along with region and all the intersecting identities that shape how we move through the world. When representation is limited or nonexistent, entire communities are left feeling invisible, their stories unheard, their contributions dismissed. But when it is done right, representation affirms, empowers, and expands what is possible for those who have long been pushed to the margins.

I came of age in the late ‘90s and early 2000s in Stanislaus County, at time when most

progressive people left the stifling Central Valley for more open-minded, forward-thinking

places; if they had the means to do so. I stayed, but not because I felt I had a choice; rather,

because I felt I had none.

I found refuge in the old Aztlan Book store in downtown Modesto, the Stanislaus State University Pow Wow in Turlock and MJC Pow Wows and the occasional Raza performers, such as Lila Downs, or Ozomotli, that performed in the independently owned, State Theatre in Modesto or at the many lowrider car shows in Stanislaus County. By the time I left for

graduate school, I had already decided that my impact belonged at home, in the Central Valley. When I returned, I carved a path for visibility and Chicano upliftment, hoping to create a shift; so that if the next generation left, it would be by choice, not by necessity or escape.

I wanted to become what I wanted to see more of; to be the embodiment of the Chicanada in modern, human form. The feelings that occupied my body when being wrapped up in my

Chicano identity were unparalleled. I wanted to be part of creating spaces of unapologetic pride and belonging; void of assimilated pressures. When others see their reflection in me, it heals the younger version of me that yearned for such representation so long ago. It was my calling to do this at home, in the C.V. Us, proud Chicanos, are here and have always been here but may have lacked visibility.

California is more than just LA and the Bay; the Central Valley is an essential part of the

state’s heart and history. But even within the state, the Valley is treated like the forgotten

relative. We are either invisible or dismissed, as if we have nothing to contribute, as if we do not carry a long legacy of struggle, resilience, and impact. When people do acknowledge us, it is often through harmful narratives, the so-called “brain drain,” the idea that there’s “nothing there”except crime, drugs, and a lack of education. While challenges exist, reducing the Central Valley to a single, negative story is both inaccurate and dangerous, as Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie warns in her powerful TED Talk on the danger of a single narrative. The truth is, we are and have always been a region of resistance and movement-building. From the United Farm Workers, with Cesar Chavez and Dolores Huerta, to the Brown Berets, MEChA, NAK, Phi Lambda Ro, from grassroots organizing to art and music, the Central Valley holds a history of power, culture, and activism that cannot and should not be erased. One generation building on the very next one.

It’s not a lack of talent, brilliance, or ability; it’s a failure of visibility and inclusivity

from those outside the region. Every place has its own echo chambers, but too often, a select few control the narrative and opportunities, shaping who gets seen and who gets left out. When a region is made invisible, its people are overlooked for experiences and opportunities that could expand their potential beyond the borders of their hometowns. As a lifelong resident of the Central Valley, I know firsthand that this place is rich with beauty, talent, and brilliance. In many ways, this is a love letter to my home; I am the Tía eager to introduce the world to her incredible nieces and nephews. Years ago, while working at a community center, I saw this truth unfold: people don’t lack talent or drive; they simply need the chance to shine.

I hope that one day in my lifetime, the Central Valley will be readily and positively

recognized; not as an afterthought, but as an integral part of California. That it will no longer be overlooked but firmly placed on the map. That people outside this region will know us,

collaborate with us, and invest in their Central Valley neighbors. In the past eight years, I’ve noticed a shift in our corner of the Valley. My generation and those younger are reclaiming space, staying rooted, and shaping the narrative. More grassroots businesses, podcasts, workshops, and brands proudly incorporate “Central Valley” into their names and missions. This is both refreshing and necessary. It is a declaration: We are here. It is

a collective voice saying, ¡Presente!

For those who have left the Valley, I hope you find ways to carry your home with you; to

represent it with pride in your new city, to uplift and highlight it whenever possible. At my

recent talk at Harvard, I was reminded yet again of the profound importance of representation. Students expressed excitement and joy in seeing someone like me; a Chicana, a Californian, a West Coaster, someone from the hood, someone from the Central Valley on that stage. Different women found belonging in me, and I, in them. This moment would not have happened if someone hadn’t spoken my name into that space, nor if Harvard hadn’t taken a chance on a couple of Chicanas from the C.V.

There is still so much work to be done for the Central Valley to be fully acknowledged in

all its abundance, diversity, and contributions. But recognition does not come from waiting; it

comes from action. It comes from amplifying our voices, continuing to telling our own stories,

and refusing to let others define who we are. The Valley has so much to offer, and we invite

others to see its brilliance and invest in its future. The call is simple but vital: Invest in the

Central Valley within its regional boundaries AND beyond. Because we have always been

here and we will not be erased.