Cynthia E.

Orozco

No Mexicans, Women,
or Dogs Allowed: The
Rise of the Mexican
American Civil Rights
Movement
Review by J. Holder Bennett

University of North Texas

Fall 2010
Cynthia E. Orozco, No Mexicans, Women, or Dogs Allowed: The Rise of the Mexican American

Civil Rights Movement (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2009).

Orozco’s work is, frankly, the best title I have seen on Mexican American history in the

early and middle twentieth century in a long while. Unburdened by excessive theory requiring

constant justification and explication and containing a distinct, central narrative, this title clearly

and calmly projects the growth of a self-conscious Mexican American social and political

movement, the League of United Latin American Citizens (LULAC hereinafter). If there is one

consideration which requires some note, it is Orozco’s use of the term “La Raza” (3, passim).

Though here she uses it entirely to indicate “the Mexican race,” if one missed that in the

introductory chapter one might well feel, and with some justification, that she was referring to

the political movement (10 – 12). A further difficulty with the term is that Hispanics were not

considered a separate race in law until the 1930 Decennial US Census and her work covers much

of the activity in the 1920s. Lastly, the very idea of race is itself problematic. It is a social

construct having no basis in biology or even in physical appearance in many cases, a point which

made the experiences of various leaders differ. Orozco points out that, while all the leaders were

technically of the same “race,” they differed greatly in appearance and were treated differently

by society because of it (94). Though appropriate to use racial terms when quoting period

material, as people on all sides did use them and believed in their real relation to humanity,

Orozco occasionally lacks distinction between her own racial term use and that of her subjects.

With this one reservation, this book is eminently readable and enjoyable.

The central object of this book is to chart the growth and development of the movement

which would culminate in the formation of LULAC in 1929. Before that there were several

distinct stages of agitation. What began as a scattered Mexican movement sponsored in part by
the consulate office evolved into a Mexican American movement interacting all across South

Texas, as best exemplified by the foundation of the Order Sons of America (OSA hereinafter) in

1921. The social growth and change of the movement would lead to gradually increasing levels

of Americanization, a point of much contention and criticism from later Chicano historians who

essentially allege that LULAC forgot about the “Mexican” part of “Mexican American.” This

criticism is partly justified by the principles and goals established first for the League of Latin

American Citizens (LLAC hereinafter) in 1927 and the later constitution of LULAC which was

based on it in part (Appendices 2 and 3, respectively). With this much, Orozco unambiguously

disagrees and presents ample evidence to the contrary from documents and interviews. The OSA

was also economically longitudinal in that it coordinated efforts between the nascent Mexican

American middle class and the traditional working class groups, specifically agricultural

laborers. The inclusion of petite bourgeois elements would also be a point of later criticism, as

scholars of the late twentieth century would refer to LULACers and members of related

organizations as “vendidos [sellouts]” and “accommodationists” (92). Orozco similarly

disagrees with this point, preferring to see the 1920s activists as pragmatic. In Chapter Four, she

presents a group biography of the eleven men considered co-founders of LULAC. Seven were

working class and had lives surrounded by hard, physical labor, and all eleven had “regular

contact with workers and immigrants” (118). Indeed, one, Clemente Idar, was an AFL organizer

and his influence can be seen in the heavy labor orientation of the LULAC constitution (102).

Though the documentary refutation of the normative position is somewhat less robust than in the

previous case, and is largely dependent on oral histories, it is still a convincing presentation.

Dating the beginning of the Mexican American movement in the 1920s is controversial

as well because mainstream scholars place the rise of anti-segregation movements in the
Mexican American community as a post-World War Two phenomenon. Orozco instead sees the

real genesis in OSA and the other groups which coordinated in the formation first of LLAC and

then of LULAC (65). One such group was the Primer Congreso Mexicanista (PCM hereinafter).

This group was open to both US and Mexican citizens, conducted much of their business in

Spanish, and allowed women to join. A leader from the PCM, Gregorio E. González, went so far

as to say, “En cada parte del mundo en que exista un Mexicano, existe la Patria [Wherever in the

world a Mexican exists, the fatherland exists]” (71). Though allowed to be members, sometimes

as full participants and sometimes as auxiliaries, women generally preferred to make their own

independent groups in a pattern which followed traditional Mexican gender dynamics. To that

end, Jovita Idar, mother of Clemente and Eduardo Idar who would later be co-founders of

LULAC, helped found the Liga Femenil Mexicanista. This group had its own independent

platform and areas of concern, mostly the traditional feminine areas of education and

childrearing (71). None of these groups, masculine- or feminine-oriented, lasted much past

1920, all of them going through a mixed process of splintering and dissolution caused as much

by difficulties in communication and transportation as much as by personality conflicts between

founders and between regional organization hubs (89). Even so, they provided the groundwork

for the OSA to expand throughout the 1920s.

Early leadership of the OSA and the splinter groups was comprised in large part of

returned World War One veterans. This status gave them an additional vantage point from

which to consider both the rights and responsibilities of citizenship, which in turn led them to a

more focused sense of Americanness and political participation (91). The Harlingen Convention

of 1927, which aimed at restoring unity between all the disparate groups which had been at times

duplicating efforts and at other times working at cross-purposes, began with two major
questions. First, should there be one organization for all persons of Mexican origin, or should

there be two groups divided along lines of citizenship status? Considering the previously stated

positions of the leadership, the latter was almost guaranteed to win out. Such a point of dispute

led to dissent even before the conference began. At the conference itself, though many spoke in

favor of a Mexican American-only organization, no one was scheduled to speak on behalf of

establishing a Mexican-only group (125). 75% of attendees walked out in disgust at the motion,

and many did not wait to see the result of the vote. They did so in part because they could not

understand why Mexican Americans were putting citizenship ahead of national identification

(131). Orozco instead maintains that the Mexican critics were confusing race and nationality.

The Mexican American leaders espoused racial nationalism as expressed through United States

citizenship; in effect, they were still asserting membership in the Mexican “race” while

simultaneously laying claim to American citizenship (133). The second question, raised by

Orozco and other historians more than conference participants but no less important for that, was

a bit more philosophical and never formally stated. Namely, was “La Raza” a “nation within the

United States?” (121). The second question, closely related to the confusion regarding and the

walkout from the first, has not yet been resolved today.

Oddly, Orozco deals explicitly with the question of hybridity only briefly (144 – 146).

Though one might well expect further discourse on the liminal nature of the self-identified

Mexican American community, the work instead sprinkles commentary throughout. This brief

section is included mostly to demonstrate the hybrid status as a way station along the path of a

community evolving away from its Mexican roots toward eventual American assimilation.

Though some criticism of this movement was evident prior to World War One, in the 1930s

normalization and Americanization became the desired goals of LULAC and Mexican
Americans more generally. Chicano historians would later decry this stance, but in so doing they

demonstrate their own devaluation of Americanness. Different values dominate in different

times and places, and Chicano historians seem unable or unwilling to recognize the legitimacy of

those who came before them and believed in a different methodology. Orozco, rather than

attempting to mediate between the two positions, prefers to let each group stand in its own

context and thus both are shown to be valid for their respective times and places. The only

invalid position, for Orozco, is asserting everyone must agree with you in order to have a

legitimate place in the discourse.

Compared to the Harlingen Convention, the one held in Corpus Christi in February 1929

to found LULAC was relatively sedate (160). Full merger of all existing Mexican American

organizations was advocated, and eventually all received invitations to join. Policy was quickly

adopted along Harlingen lines to limit membership to American citizens. By April, the OSA had

been dissolved and thirteen other local groups had joined LULAC. Their platform was praised

by one contemporary, Paul S. Taylor, as a “combination of realism and idealism” (177). This

struck Mexican Americans as odd because “in 1929, the league was unable to fathom white allies

– they were too few” (178).

In all Orozco presents an admirable, believable, and readable account of the origin of the

Mexican American movement. If there are lacks or deficiencies, they are due to documentary

lapses and not of her making. Her manner alternates between defensive and casual depending on

whether or not she is defending a contentious proposition or simply telling the story of LULAC

and its members. She is self-conscious of the controversial nature of her statements, and takes

pains to avoid appearing to be a reactionary. But, much like other recent scholars, she provides a

much-needed response to certain ideological extremes.