By Evelyn Oropeza –

“Gorda  ponte en paz,” my mother yelled as she put ribbons in my hair to perform for the Cinco de Mayo Parade in Pilsen.

Mi mamá helped me dress up in a long ruffled dress with colorful ribbons inside a small school bus. I tried to catch my balance as I put on my shoes while the bus was moving.

I looked in the bus mirror and saw an image of my mother. Ojos pintados de color café con blanco, y las mejillas rojizas como las rosas.

“Ya estás lista,” the teacher said.

“Si ya voy.”

I grabbed my dress so I wouldn’t trip down the steps, and ran towards my dance partner. Mi mamá chased me around with red lipstick and hoop earrings in her hands.

“Estoy nerviosa,” I told mamá as she put red lipstick on my thin lips.

“Ay mi’ja no te pongas nerviosa, ahorita se te va pasar,” she said.

I stood next to my partner who was wearing his charro suit with a huge black sombrero. Behind me were children all dressed up in Mexican folkloric dresses with makeup smeared on their faces.

They sat on top of the float y nos echaban porras as my partner and I got prepared to dance on 18th Street. Los zonzonetes de Jalisco began, so it was time para celebrar.

Cinco de Mayo is celebrated throughout the United States and Mexico in honor of la battalla de Puebla against the French in May 5, 1862. In the Pilsen and Little Village neighborhoods of Chicago, Cinco de Mayo is celebrated all over the community with people putting banderas de México in their cars, homes and small business shops. Around every corner in the community street vendors sell bags, T-shirts, dresses, flags y sombreros with the colors of Mexico.

“¡Viva México!” the crowd cried as I fluttered through the streets with my colorful gown.

I smiled so much my apple cheeks were numb. The ribbons in my dress danced around as I was doing the zapateado de tres bathing myself in the hot sun.

“Agua, necesito agua,” I told my mother as she ran behind the float to get me a bottle of water.

“Ya no más quedan doce cuadras,” my mom said as she opened the cold bottle of water and stood by my side.

I was 12 years old when mi mama took me to my first dance practice. I did not know anything about my culture. Joining the Balet Folklórico of the Back of the Yards, I found out who I really was. School never taught me about my culture other than Los Niños Héroes, military cadets who died defending Mexico, the revolutionary Pancho Villa and Don Quijote de la Mancha.

Because of balet folklórico I learned to speak Spanish fluently and understood what each state in Mexico has to offer.

At the end of the parade I had the chance to see the performers, as they stood on the sides as we came to an end. I saw reinas, princesas, charros, caballos, jinetes and more.

In the streets people from the crowd wanted to take pictures of dancers, so I stood next to los niños y las niñas sonrientes.

Afteward, I hopped back on the school bus y me empezé a quitar el vestuario. As I looked out the back window while taking off my makeup with baby wipes, I knew mi mamá and I did our part to continue the celebration of Cinco de Mayo.

Evelyn Oropeza is a journalism student at Columbia College Chicago.