To belong,

is to dance folklórico

For Chicanos who dance folklórico in the United States, folklórico has become part of our story.

Photo Courtesy of Steven Tan

Dear Reader,

Since I began dancing folklórico at 18, I can’t imagine living without it.

Folklórico has given me a community, a home, and has become synonymous with my identity as Chicana.

But I am not the first.

Folklórico has touched many souls before me, some who I have been granted the privilege to speak with for this project.

They continue to live and breathe folklórico, after all these years.

This capstone is dedicated to them, and it’s a recognition of the significance folklórico still holds for Chicanos today.

Sincerely,

LeeAnna Villarreal

Folklórico dancer, Emily Hurtado, performing a dance from the Mexican state of Nayarit.

Folklórico, originating in Mexico, is a traditional style of dance that reflects the various regions of Mexico, each with their own set of costume-wear (vestuario), dance, and music. Influenced by both indigenous and European cultures, each performance tells a story about the daily lives and traditions of the region’s people.

When Ballet Folklórico de México, under Amalia Hernandez, toured the U.S. in the 60s, it gave way to the widespread movement of folklórico across California. At a time that coincided with the Chicano Movement, many Chicanos were inspired, and saw folklórico as an avenue to reconnect with their Mexican heritage.

“The pressures of assimilation were much stronger back then,” said Javier Sepúlveda Garibay, USC Performing Arts Librarian and folklórico dancer of 13 years. “It was like a radical thing to participate in the arts if it had to do with your culture.”

Groups emerged across the United States, in both university and community spaces, like Grupo Folklórico de Mizoc, a company that Maria Luisa Colmenarez, 63, and her sister created in 1975, just as they entered high school.

Located in the Northwestern region of Mexico, Sinaloa borders the Coast of California. Known for its vibrant landscape, the vestuario features bright colors, paired with loud, upbeat music. The movement for this region reflects that of ocean waves.

“My Mexican friends in high school weren’t as interested as my Chicano friends… because it was seen as something low class or something that was undesirable, that wasn’t in line with assimilation,” Colmenarez said.

At a young age, Colmenarez and her sister were recognized as one of the few folklórico dancers with their own repertoire in Sacramento.

“I had the good fortune to have parents that were very pro-cultura in that they didn’t want us to forget our roots,” she said.

Now, as the Executive Director of Danzantes Unidos Festival, a renowned folklórico festival that just celebrated its 44th year anniversary, Colmenarez looks back on the movement as one that was fueled by Chicanos.

“I went from wanting to build bridges, like actual concrete…to other bridges,” she said. “It’s bridging communities… people that wouldn’t normally be sitting together in the same room.”

Today, as a lecturer at San Jose State University, Colmenarez is currently working with her students and transitioning them into teachers, an effort to fulfill the demand of folklórico instructors in the Bay Area.

For most folkloristas, their journey begins at the university level, and it doesn’t end there.

Maria Luisa Colmenarez, dressed in Veracruz vestuario. (Courtesy of Danzantes Unidos Festival)

It was at UC Santa Cruz that that Garibay joined his first folklórico group as a junior in 2010, Grupo Folklórico Los Mejicas.

“It’s just my culture, you know, I couldn’t find it anywhere else. And I saw the group performing. I was like, ‘That’s it. That’s what I want to do,’” he said.

Located in the southern region of Mexico, Guerrero features light, fast footwork with partnered choreography. Dancers typically hold a hand kerchief in one hand, waiving it an intricate pattern repeatedly.

Representing the state of Guerrero, Garibay performed with Los Mejicas in 2012. (Courtesy of Javier Garibay)

After graduating, Garibay joined Grupo Folklórico de UCLA (GFUCLA), and from 2015-2016, he co-directed the group for their showcase, Fiesta Mexicana, at Royce Hall.

Among the crowd of almost 1,800 people that attended was John Estrada, a former GFUCLA member and leader within the Folklórico Movement throughout the 70s. Among his many accomplishments, he is most famously known for co-founding the Danzantes Unidos Festival in 1979.

The two met and remained friends ever since, and a couple years later, Garibay actually worked with Estrada to restore archival footage of the first ever Danzantes Unidos Festival at UCLA, which is now accessible through USC Libraries’ Dance Heritage Video Archive.

When I called Estrada for what was initially going to be a phone interview, I was surprised when he invited me to his group’s practice that Saturday.

Grupo Folklórico de West Los Angeles, also founded by Estrada in 1977, practices every Saturday morning at his home in Reseda. At 77 years old, he teaches and performs with his group, which also includes his wife, children, and grandchildren.

I walk into his backyard and see an array of wooden boards, and a couple of female dancers standing on them in their practice shoes. An array of seats surround the practice stage, filled with family members and dancers resting in between songs. Estrada, who is directing practice, turns around to immediately welcome me.

Estrada is stern, shouting every now and then, but immediately following it up with a playful comment and a smile.

His critiques build confidence, encouraging dancers to smile, and he shares with me their growth since joining the group.

John Estrada, folklórico dancer for over 50 years.

Tiny children emerge from the house, playing tag around the yard as dancers switch in and out. Parents begin to arrive and watch the last remnants of practice.

Much like Garibay, and myself, Estrada began dancing folklórico in college, but his journey, in search of identity, began a lot earlier.

“We didn’t know anything about our culture, you know, the language, the traditions,” Estrada said. “We were just existing.”

Born and raised in Watts, Estrada grew up in a predominately Black community, with only one other Latino family living in the same housing project as him. He didn’t know anything about his heritage, and yet he was still discriminated against for it.

Located in the southwestern region of Mexico, dances of Nayarit feature large, skirt work and the use of machetes. Foot work is fast, and machetes match the rhythm by creating clanging sounds with sparks.

John Estrada, light blue, poses with his group, Grupo Folklórico de West Los Angeles, in 2022. They’re dressed in Nayarit vestuario. (Courtesy of GFWLA Instagram)

“It was the way they said Mexican,” Estrada began to tear up, as he recalled an interaction he had with the father of a girlfriend he had at the time

“‘I don’t want you over here, I don’t want no Mexican with my daughter,’.”

From a young age, Estrada learned how to speak up for himself, for his six brothers, and for other Latinos. He advocated for residents of La Colonia, a small Latino community in Watts, to be represented and have access to services in Spanish at a local health center in Watts. He became a leader.

Shortly after, he was selected for a high potential program at UCLA, and began attending in 1968.

“I didn’t know my identity until I got to UCLA,” he said. “I started meeting Chicanos, Mexican American Chicanos, and I kind of liked the word Chicano.”

At UCLA, his counselor recommended he take a Spanish class and a folklórico class. Ultimately, he became enamored with the latter.

Located in the northern region of Mexico, Chihuahua is known for its mountain ranges and famous river, Rio Conchos. Dances are fast-paced and the music is energetic. East-European countries, like Germany, largely influenced both the dance style and vestuario.

For our Spring 2023 showcase, Alissa Rojas and Adrian Becerra danced the state of Chihuahua. (Courtesy of Steven Tan)

“I fell in love with everything that Maestro Pulido offered to us,” Estrada said. “I felt, ‘Oh, finally, I’m with my people,’ and I felt like I was part of la raza, you know, my gente, Chicanos.”

This time, Estrada shed happy tears.

After 23 years of being on the outside looking in, Estrada had finally felt like he belonged. His love for folklórico and his newfound identity as Chicano, intertwined with one another.

Throughout the 70s, Estrada would go on to perform and study under famous folklórico maestros and maestras, attend conferences and workshops to learn new dances, and teach at college campuses.

At this time, rivalry existed between folklórico groups, and Estrada founded Danzantes Unidos Festival in part to unite groups. To facilitate camaraderie , LA based groups offered free housing, and Estrada connected with organizations to donate services for each group.

Although he passed the baton in 1985, his work did not go unnoticed, and he, alongside his group, were honored by the governor.

Estrada has lived and breathed folklórico for over 50 years, and that passion is shared with his family and grupo. For Estrada, to be Chicano is to dance folklórico.

Folklorico has given him the culture, tradition, and even language that he did not experience as a kid growing up in Watts, but now, culture is something that he can share in abundance with his family.

Dahlia Monroy, maestra of Grupo Folklórico de USC, is dressed in Oaxaca vestuario. Photographed in 2019, Monroy performed “Flor de Piña.” (Courtesy of Dahlia Monroy)

Located in the Southernmost region of Mexico, Oaxaca borders the Pacific Coast. Vestuario is vibrant, with intricate embroidery. Dances are influenced by indigenous, Spanish and African roots, and footwork is rhythmic.

By this point, Estrada has booted up the PlayStation in his room to show me old videos of his group performing, and Mrs. Estrada has joined our conversation. She shows me certificates of appreciation that her daughters, Rachel and Heaven, have earned from Councilwoman Monica Rodriguez, as well as the one she earned just last year.

Kids and grandkids trickle in to say hi and bye. Both Estrada and Mrs. Estrada began to bounce compliments off each other, giving credit to the work they’ve done within the last 50 years.

Their home is alive. The energy that defined the Chicano and Folklórico Movement all those years ago, never left. It lives within that family and within the newer generations of folkloristas, like me.