Lucinda "La Morena" Hinojos poured her Chicana identity and experience into a mural of César Chávez.
Then she had to erase it.
The allegations of sexual misconduct by the labor rights leader seared her conscience. She thought of it as she painted over his face.
"How could you do this?" Hinojos recalled asking the mural.
Hinojos is a well-known Arizona muralist and was the first Chicana and Native American woman the NFL tapped to design art for Super Bowl LVII in 2023, which was held in Glendale. Her artwork typically depicts the joy and struggles of Brown and Indigenous people.
For her, Chávez and his work shaped her understanding of her identity as a Chicana, a term used by many Mexican Americans that has deep sociopolitical roots. Chávez, an Arizona
native, was known for his labor activism in the 1960s and 1970s.
So when the Cesar Chavez Foundation reached out two years ago, asking if she would curate a mural on the wall of an affordable rental complex in Glendale that the organization would manage, she said it was a "dream come true."
But when Hinojos learned Chávez was accused of sexually abusing women, including his co-organizer and prominent Latina activist Dolores Huerta, she felt angry and emotional. It was personal, for multiple reasons.
"My identity was based off their movement," she said in a July post to Instagram. "I grew up, you know, not knowing who I was or where I came from until I discovered César Chávez and Dolores Huerta and the Chicano movement."
It's taken her one month the repaint a mural that she thought was would take one week.
She arrived to the south Glendale site for her nightly routine of painting between 8 p.m. and 1 a.m., braving the triple-digit heat in her paint-spattered purple shorts and 2 Live and Die in L.A. sleeveless t-shirt. She climbed and strapped herself to her noisy, gasoline-powered lift and adjusted controls to move the lift up nearly two stories.
Donning a respirator, she waved a can of spray paint from left to right, adding shades of purple and red to touch up the new portrait that replaced the face of a man whose reputation had crumbled for many Latinos. She sought to create a new mural that could still resonate for Latinos despite the history-altering news.
Hinojos' repainting comes about five months after the explosive New York Times report in March, in which two women said that the now-disgraced Chávez had sexually abused them when they were minors from about 1972 to 1977.
The report also included a stunning accusation from Huerta, Chávez’ co-leader during the farmworkers’ movement. She said Chávez pressured her into having sex with him during a work trip in 1960, and he raped her in a secluded grape field in 1966. Huerta, now 96, said those led to pregnancies, and she had those children raised by other people.
Many leaders in Arizona and the nation quickly condemned Chávez, and swiftly moved to rename holidays and landmarks that bore his name, while some defended the gains of the movement he led.
Not only was Hinojos angry to learn what Chávez was accused of, but she was upset at how people were reacting, including questioning why the women did not come out sooner.
Hinojos said she had been sexually assaulted in the past and was constantly trying to move forward and heal. The news of Chávez disrupted that process for her, she said, and she was infuriated with people who were calling Chávez' accusers liars.
The swift removal of Chávez' name and likeness across the nation also agitated her because those same actions were not taken against President Donald Trump and other U.S. leaders who have been accused of disturbing actions and who "get away with everything," Hinojos said. She used the Epstein files as an example.
But what she didn't want was for someone angry at Chávez to take matters into their own hands and deface her mural.
Thankfully, no one did. She wanted to be the one to change it.
"Let me do it. I want no one else to do it," Hinojos said.
New mural casts another positive picture
The chance for Hinojos to process her anger into action came when the Chavez Foundation reached out to her weeks after the accusations went public.
The original mural wasn't just of the labor leader. Hinojos said the Chavez Foundation wanted to include other aspects of what the organization does, such as educational opportunities and preserving the farmworker movement's history.
The final mural, which Hinojos said took one month to complete, depicted Chávez, a Latina graduate with a "Sí se puede" cap and a Latina farmworker ― all in front of a sunset.
Though it was an exciting opportunity and Chávez was a big part of her Chicana identity, Hinojos said she had mixed feelings about him because of his views on certain topics, like immigration.
Chávez was opposed to the hiring of undocumented workers because he believed they slowed down the momentum of the farmworkers' movement. He later became a backer of the Reagan administration's immigration reform and its amnesty provisions.
Still, after the allegations went public, Hinojos said she didn't want to be as reactive as everyone else. When the Chavez Foundation did reach out about removing him from the mural, she didn't have time to work on it anyway because she was pre-booked for months.
That ended up being a good thing, she said, because it gave her more time to process the news.
When news of the allegations first broke, the Chavez Foundation recognized that many communities that honored César Chávez through commemorations and holidays would have to grapple with “what to do with a name and legacy that carries with it so much history,” said Daniel Herrera, a spokesperson for the Chavez Foundation in a statement.
The Chavez Foundation stood by its previous stance that the decision of what to do with the commemorations “rightfully belong to those communities,” Herrera said. The foundation supported and respected whatever path they choose, Herrera said.
“The farmworker movement was built by many organizers, workers and supporters, and Cesar Chavez was part of that history,” Herrera said. “We trust communities to hold that evolving legacy honestly, and to find ways of honoring the movement's history that reflect both its achievements and its shortcomings.”
Hinojos said that when she was finally able to work on repainting the mural, she wanted to replace Chávez with an Aztec woman, a farm worker, or an elder.
But the Chavez Foundation wanted to add a professional-looking person who was not tied to anyone specific, she said. Now, a professional-looking Latina woman covers the left portion of the wall where Chávez used to be.
It wasn't until Hinojos was actively painting the woman that she recognized that the mural held a new power.
"When I was painting, I'm like, oh, it's a wall full of women!" Hinojos said. "Yeah, you see cool murals, but of brown mujeres (women)? What!"
How Chávez accusations hit Arizona
Residents in Arizona reacted to the allegations against Chávez with mixed emotions.
Their reactions ranged from skepticism of the allegations to believing the victims, and concerns that the report could damage one of the few widely recognized Latino leaders.
Several schools and cities, including Glendale, quickly renamed institutions and landmarks dedicated to Chávez. A day after Chávez' birthday, April 1, Democratic Gov. Katie Hobbs signed a bill stripping César Chávez Day from state law.
About a mile northwest of Hinojos' mural, a one-mile stretch of road in Glendale was once adorned with honorary street signs bearing Chávez' name. It was removed in June.
Nearly half of Glendale is Hispanic, according to 2025 Census data. Hinojos' mural is near the border of Maryvale Village, a West Phoenix neighborhood with a majority-Hispanic population.
City leaders also discussed removing books from the library regarding Chávez. Most of the council sided with the city's library commission to keep the materials because they are part of the historical record.
One of them, Leandro Baldenegro, was hesitant. Baldenegro, who represents the area of the city where the mural is, said the wounds the allegations unleashed still sting.
What the women accused Chávez of, he said, was not a one-time event that wouldn't happen again. So many people unfortunately experience sexual abuse, including Latina women, he said.
"I get it, it's history," he said. "But there's no time to heal because it's still ongoing."
Baldenegro said time doesn't make everything go away, but he felt the city could have removed the materials swiftly and possibly reintroduce them slowly over time. Baldenegro said he's not going to tell people when they should move on.
How do the residents feel about the new mural?
Hinojos said residents at the complex shared mixed feelings regarding the repainting of the mural, including sadness and questioning why she was changing it.
Others, like Gabby and Alex Muñoz, whose first-floor residence Hinojos is painting right outside of, have been kept awake until 3 a.m. for the past few weeks.
That's because of the noise, not the content of the painting itself.
The Muñozes were not too familiar with Chávez’ legacy in the farmworker’s movement, but said they did hear about the allegations against him.
Despite being kept awake for hours, the Muñozes said they had no issue with the repainting because they understood someone was working.
Carlos Panduro, who lives in another residence at the complex and is related to the Muñozes, also said he has no problem with the changes to the mural or the renaming of the holiday, which several cities in the Valley did.
Before the accusations were unearthed, Panduro said in a Spanish interview that he knew Chávez as a man who “helped a lot of people.” He learned about the accusations from Spanish television news, Panduro said as the Univision news jingle played on his TV.
Panduro said he did not understand why the women came forward with the accusations decades after Chávez died. He said he believes the women should have come forward sooner, when Chávez was alive, so he'd be forced to face them.
How does the Latino community move on?
The Latino community as a whole still needs time to heal and process the disturbing allegations against a once-revered figure, Hinojos said.
During her interview with The Arizona Republic, Hinojos pointed to a tattoo on the top part of her left wrist.
The tattoo said in cursive lettering "Sigue Adelante," a common phrase used in Latino communities that loosely translates to "Keep moving forward."
Hinojos emphasized the changes that came from the farmworkers movement were the product of not one person but a movement of a people.
"I learned to," Hinojos said. "Acknowledge and applaud the movement, the people, the community, not just one person"
Elena Santa Cruz covers the West Valley cities of Glendale, Surprise and Peoria. Reach her at elena.santacruz@arizonarepublic.com or follow her on X @ecsantacruz3.
David Ulloa Jr covers the Southwest Valley communities of Avondale, Buckeye, Goodyear, Litchfield Park and Gila Bend. Reach him at david.ulloa@usatodayco.com. Follow him on Instagram & X, formerly Twitter, @davidulloa_ii.
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This article originally appeared on Arizona Republic: It was a dream to paint César Chávez. Then came disturbing news
