Endless Possibilities
Diana Dávila Martínez

I am a Latina. I am female. I am young. I grew up in Houston´s Second Ward. I am Catholic. I am the youngest of five children, born to Mexican immigrants who both have only an elementary school education. I am a graduate of Stephen F. Austin High School. I am a Harvard/Radcliffe alumna. This is who I am, and dissecting myself is a difficult task. But without any one of these experiences and characteristics, my life in Houston would have been very different.

In 1956 Houston signified endless possibilities for my father, twenty-eight years old, married with two children, and living in Monterrey, Mexico. These included a good paying job and a doctor who could restore hearing to his right ear. So he and three cousins entered the United States of America at Laredo, Texas, by car. He had one letter guaranteeing him employment as an upholsterer at Southwest Upholstery and another letter from a bank assuming financial responsibility on behalf of his soon-to-be boss. He lived with his cousins in a small rental house on North Main, visiting his family in Monterrey at least once a month. One year later, my mother, three-year-old Daniel, and one-year-old Maricela obtained passports to join him in Houston. His parents, whom he had fully supported since age sixteen, would come visit periodically.

Life in Houston was simple. My father was a hard worker, every day striving to improve his upholstery skills. But far away from relatives and friends, and unable to speak English, my mother yearned for her homeland. Like many immigrants, my father consoled her with the promise of returning to Mexico in a few years. Still, over time Houston became their home. When my brother Daniel enrolled at Lubbock Elementary School on Harrisburg Boulevard unable to speak English, my parents bought him a television so he could learn by listening, and he quickly began to excel. By the time he graduated number one among all sixth graders at the school, my brothers Jaime and Sergio had been born. I was born in 1966. One year later, my father bought a house on Engelke Street in Second Ward for $6,500.

Eleanor Roosevelt once said, “I gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which I must stop to look fear in the face. . . . I say to myself, I´ve lived through this and can take the next thing that comes along. . . . We must do the things we think we cannot do.” Throughout my life, I have attempted to do the things I thought I could not do. I am not trying to conquer the world, but simply to reach out a little each day to make society and myself better. In the fourth grade at Burnet Elementary School, I didn´t think I could switch to the Pleasantville Elementary School Vanguard program for the gifted, but I attended, worked hard, and did well enough to attend the Vanguard program at Burbank Junior High.

In fact, Pleasantville was the stage for my first political act. At the ripe old age of ten, I was elected mayor of the school„no small feat. This was a campaign of great sophistication. I had a campaign manager and a speech writer, and together we designed signs, push cards, and buttons, as well as formulating a detailed platform. This campaign even developed its share of controversy when one of my opponents decided to attach free chewing gum to her literature, raising the question of bribery. And while I do not recall the teacher´s ruling on that issue, I do vividly recall the jubilation of our ultimate victory. It was no different from the night of my first election for state representative in 1992!

After attending Stephen F. Austin High School, a large, predominantly Mexican-American, inner-city public high school, I knew college was a must, but I didn´t think I would be accepted by an Ivy League school. At the urging of Jaime, who had attended Harvard, I applied to Harvard/Radcliffe, Yale, Princeton, Stanford, and Rice. I was accepted by all five schools. After college, I worked as a state legislative aide, which was not so much a precursor to elected office as it was a continuation of my earliest experiences of service. While my upbringing was far from privileged, growing up down the street from Ripley House, a community center, introduced me to community service at a very young age. I tutored younger children, served as a reading room assistant, and volunteered in the Spanish classes for Houston police officers. In the tenth grade I volunteered in my first campaign—the election of my candidate for state representative. I´ll never forget the runoff election day. It was pouring rain as I walked door to door, convincing folks to go to the polls. That night I learned that my candidate had won by a mere thirteen votes! A powerful lesson about the importance of every vote for a fifteen-year-old.

When I later ran my own election campaign for state representative, facing seven opponents, there were some who believed that my being a woman and very young—I was twenty-five—would lead to defeat. But it was those very qualities, coupled with the growing Houston Latino community´s eagerness to gain political representation, that helped me win. Because I was the only female candidate, many women rallied to my cause, excited about electing another woman to state government. And my grassroots campaign directed toward younger people motivated them to get involved in politics for the first time. Stressing my background in the district and my legislative experience, while promoting a platform that included a comprehensive children´s agenda, I led the field in the primary, won the runoff election against a well-financed opponent to become the Democratic nominee, and eventually defeated a Republican opponent in the general election.

I was sworn into office in January 1993 as the youngest member of the 73rd Texas Legislature. On the opening day of the session, after all the pomp and circumstance ended, when a male colleague approached me on the floor of the House to ask, “And who is your father?” I quickly informed him in no uncertain terms that in my family, I was the representative!

From that day on, I held my own, proudly representing the district created after the 1990 census to give the ever-growing Latino community of Houston, the largest in Texas, a voice in state government. Within that very young community, I worked hard on social and economic justice issues, attempting to provide opportunities for empowerment through educational excellence, economic independence, and sound health care, with an emphasis on education and the overall needs of children. I served three terms, deciding in 1998 not to seek reelection so I could explore new opportunities to serve my community.

As a child advocate, I hold the philosophy that while all children are born with the same potential to succeed, it is opportunity—especially in education—that enables their success. In my own family, education was second to none. Daniel graduated from the University of Houston and its Law School. Maricela attended the University of Houston. Jaime graduated from Harvard University and the University of Texas School of Law before his tragic early death. Sergio graduated from Texas A&M University, and I graduated from Harvard. Today children at Jaime Davila Elementary School in HoustonÍs East End learn about my brother, their school´s namesake, as someone who started out just like them and who succeeded because he obtained a good education.

Now I am a wife and mother. My son, Diego, was born on December 21, 1999, at Hermann Hospital. This city has certainly changed since his grandfather arrived here forty-three years ago. At that time, downtown had one tall building. Everyone did their shopping on Main Street. The only freeway was I-45. Discrimination against blacks was blatant, with signs denying them access in many places. It was a safe city with little crime. The Latino community was small and segregated in a few neighborhoods.

In the intervening years, Houston would prove to be a good home, one that helped my father fulfill his dreams through his children´s successes. I now ponder Diego´s future in Houston. While my husband, Román, and I will do all within our power to create wonderful opportunities for him, I do worry. I worry about the quality of our air. I worry about the prevalence of crime. I worry about acts of racism and discrimination. I worry about anti-immigrant and monolingual movements that are often synonymous with anti-Latino sentiments. I worry about the reversal of civil rights and the lack of a comprehensive agenda to ensure Latinos are not denied the opportunity to be an integral part of this city´s leadership. But in spite of such concerns, I do believe that just as it did for my father in 1956, and Diego on the eve of a new millennium, Houston still signifies endless possibilities.

Copyright©2000 Diana Dávila Martínez