Sofia's Activism

Sofia's Activism

When Sofia came into the living room, Juan was seated in his favorite chair near the window. Near the window, a small altar dedicated to Dia de los Muertos, or Day of the Dead, stood adorned with marigold flowers, sugar skulls, and photographs of departed loved ones. The flickering candles illuminated the offerings, casting a warm glow on the smiling faces captured in the pictures.

"Dad," Sofia knelt beside him and placed her hands on his forearm, "I need to talk to you."

Juan glanced up from the newspaper he was reading, noticing Sofia's serious tone. "What's going on, mija?"

"I won't be home for Halloween this year," Sofia said softly, her eyes meeting her father's gaze.

"What? Why not?" Juan couldn't imagine anything that would justify a child missing a holiday with the family, especially a child who lived in his own home. "Is everything OK?"

Papel picado skeletons adorned the walls. Strands of orange and purple lights twinkled amidst handmade ornaments in the shape of bats, ghosts, and pumpkins.

Sofia took a deep breath, steeling herself, "I'm planning to participate in a protest at Arizona State University."

"What are you talking about?" Juan objected, "What kind of protest?"

"We're marching for a lot of things," she said.

"What kind of things?"

Sofia rocked back, her eyes glowing with an angry light. "Things like migrant amnesty, Dad."

She tried to make it sound like that was all, but Juan knew better. Sofia always carried on about one cause or another. "What else, mija?" he asked suspiciously.

"Well," Sofia pursed her lips. "We're also marching to Free Palestine and end the genocide."

"Free Palestine?" Juan raised his voice, "What do migrants have to do with those guys? Do you want everybody thinkin' Mexicans are terrorists too?"

"I knew you wouldn't understand!" Sofia jumped to her feet. "I don't know why I bother trying to talk to you."

Juan hated making Sofia upset. "C'mon, mija! Don't be like that. You know I support you. I just don't understand what this is all about."

Sofia spun about, hands on her hips. "It's called intersectionality, Dad."

Since Sofia started going to school, Juan had grown used to the condescending tone she frequently took with him. He ignored it. "What's that?"

"I wouldn't expect you to understand," she said, "but it means that different grievance groups work together to achieve common ends. Groups like the migrant community, the Free Palestine movement, the LGTBQ+, and those fighting for women's reproductive rights."

Juan's eyes widened in surprise, "Reproductive rights? Why do you care so much about that?"

"Haven't you been listening to anything I've been saying?" Sofia protested vehemently. "Why are you still trying to be the patriarch protecting my virginity? Haven't you heard that those Nazis in the state legislature are trying to make all abortions illegal in Arizona?"

Juan's face blanched, "Abortion is a sin against God, mija. It goes against the church."

"Like you go ever to church," Sofia sneered.

This last comment brought Juan up short. He ran a hand through his hair. "Maybe I don't understand," he conceded. "But you know that you're mother and I are proud of you for wanting to make a difference. But Halloween won't be the same without you here."

A flicker of sadness crossed Sofia's face, "I know, Dad. And I'll miss being with the family." She reached out to squeeze her father's hand reassuringly. "I hope you can respect why I feel called to do this."

Juan nodded, a mixture of emotions swirling inside him. "I do, Sofia. Just promise me you'll stay safe, OK?"

Sofia smiled gratefully at her father, her eyes shining with determination. "I will, Dad. Thank you for understanding."