Welcome! ¡Bienvenidos! Bem-vindo!

The Latina/o Law Students' Association provides a forum for Latino issues, both international and domestic,that are important to WCL students. Our main objective is to promote Latino awareness and participation in the legal community through programs designed to assist students in all aspects of student life, from law school admissions to life after graduation. Programs include networking opportunities, speakers, seminars, community service projects, and debates on Latino issues. Together with our Latina/o Alumni Association, we aim to support diversity in the legal profession and justice for all communities.

UPCOMING EVENT:

LaLSA Pausa! STUDY BREAK!
Join us Friday, November 5 from 9:00am-3:00pm in room 504 for Coffee, Snacks, Games and Music!
Take a load off. You deserve it

Ode to Maize

Pablo Neruda

America, from a grain of maize you grew to crown with spacious lands the ocean foam. A grain of maize was your geography. From the grain a green lance rose, was covered with gold, to grace the heights of Peru with its yellow tassels.

But, poet, let history rest in its shroud; praise with your lyre the grain in its granaries: sing to the simple maize in the kitchen.

First, a fine beard fluttered in the field above the tender teeth of the young ear. Then the husks parted and fruitfulness burst its veils of pale papyrus that grains of laughter might fall upon the earth. To the stone, in your journey, you returned. Not to the terrible stone, the bloody triangle of Mexican death, but to the grinding stone, sacred stone of your kitchens. There, milk and matter, strength-giving, nutritious cornmeal pulp, you were worked and patted by the wondrous hands of dark-skinned women.

Wherever you fall, maize, whether into the splendid pot of partridge, or among country beans, you light up the meal and lend it your virginal flavor.

Oh, to bite into the steaming ear beside the sea of distant song and deepest waltz. To boil you as your aroma spreads through blue sierras.

But is there no end to your treasure?

In chalky, barren lands bordered by the sea, along the rocky Chilean coast, at times only your radiance reaches the empty table of the miner.

Your light, your cornmeal, your hope pervades America's solitudes, and to hunger your lances are enemy legions.

Within your husks, like gentle kernels, our sober provincial children's hearts were nurtured, until life began to shuck us from the ear.

'Self-Portrait with Monkey'

Self-Portrait with Monkey 1938

Frida Kahlo

"Talk is cheap...It is the way we organize and use our lives everyday that tells what we believe in." Cesar Chavez

“Freedoms, like privileges, prevail or are imperiled together You cannot harm or strive to achieve one without harming or furthering all.”   Jose Marti

"The most valuable possession you can own is an open heart. The most powerful weapon you can be is an instrument of peace." Carlos Santana

"There is enough love and good will in our movement to give energy to our struggle and still have plenty left over to break down and change the climate of hate and fear around us." Cesar Chavez

Did I Redeem Myself?

From 'The Woman I Kept to Myself'

Julia Alvarez

Did I redeem myself, Mami? Papi?

Was I the native child you dreamed up

as you lay in the foreign bed you’d made

your first and failed exile in New York?

Did I excuse your later desertion, leaving your friends behind to die? Did I

help to reframe that choice as sacrifice:

you gave your girls the lives they would have missed

growing up in a double tyranny

of patriarchy and dictatorship?

Did I redeem myself, my sisters, for those nights

I kept you up with Chaucer lullabies?

My love poems at your weddings? My calls

at midnight with a broken heart? And you,

dear lovers whom I mistook for husbands,

do you forgive me for forsaking you?

I heard—or thought I heard—a stronger call.

This love did prove the truest, after all.

And friends, can this be tender for your care?

Have I kept some of my promises here?

But harder still, my two Americas.

Quisqueya, did I pay my debt to you,

drained by dictatorship and poverty

of so much talent? Did I get their ear,

telling your stories in the sultan’s court

until they wept our tears? And you, Oh Beautiful,

whose tongue wooed me to service, have I proved

my passion would persist beyond my youth?

Finally, my readers what will you decide

when all that’s left of me will be these lines?