Feminist, activist, reformer; tribute to Linda Morales
Linda Morales Armas was raised with conservative values, but she was not one for “traditions.” She bristled at anyone who would say: “Qué bonita, parece gringa!” How pretty, she looks like a gringa! She had blue eyes and light skin, but was a fiercely proud Mexicana from Laredo, Texas. She was always more concerned with how people behaved, not looked.
■ When her father refused to give us permission to marry, she got us to elope. We suffered his wrath until the birth of his first granddaughter, and then all was fine. Linda was a feminist before the word was invented. Our two daughters played “boy” sports — basketball, soccer, tennis — and both worked on cars. They grew up knowing they were going to college.
■ As a mother, she also worked and was a university student who changed her major to health when I developed diabetes. She established an exceptional health career where she shattered glass ceilings and found ways to elevate others.
■ As activists during the Chicano civil rights movement, I carried our oldest daughter on my shoulders as we all marched in Texas demanding education equality. To my relentless rhetoric about our racist society, she quietly responded: “Doesn’t matter what you say or believe. What matters is what you do.” That redefined my activist life forever. Both our daughters have the same attitude.
■ She rose to become a director at the largest hospital in the state and was charged to help the Española hospital, which was about to lose its accreditation. Three years later Española received the highest score of nearly every hospital in the state.
■ When she returned home, she wanted the hospital to address a medical crisis: lack of competent medical interpreters to serve Latino and American Indian patients. The hospital dismissed her concern, so she retired and went to Highlands to create the first university course in bilingual medical interpretation. She then started her own business that trained hundreds of doctors, nurses, first responders and line staff in hospitals and clinics throughout the state. The hospital that dissed her idea now has among the most active medical interpreting practices.
■ She helped establish a proactive Latino advisory committee at the University of New Mexico medical school. The school now boasts top grades for graduating people of color in medicine.
■ She co-founded one of the first Chicano publishing houses in the country and published countless Latina voices from throughout the U.S. She published the first anthology of Latina writing.
■ She co-founded De Colores, which produced an annual festival for nearly 20 years celebrating Latino contributions to the world. She found leaders to honor even though she was seldom honored. She did public speaking here and abroad, but received few public accolades or awards.
■ Linda was my strongest critic and my biggest supporter. But she made me rise to a new level recently when she was stricken with dementia, for which there is no cure. She understood exactly what was going to happen to her. But she made no time for anger or self-pity.
I liked to wake up one of our grandsons just to watch him open his eyes and instantly flash a broad smile. He got that from Linda. Her outlook was like that to the end. Every person who stepped into our home was treated like royalty. They were made to feel important no matter who they were. Few people ever left our home without a gift of some sort from her.
I learned to get up with her each morning, fighting my cynical and pessimistic nature to try to match her outlook one more day.
Then, Linda died peacefully in my arms a couple of days ago.
At the risk of appearing sentimental, I’d say that Linda was an unsung hero, a champion for the powerless — a New Mexico treasure. Her passing diminishes the world a little bit, at least.