The Maya Peoples of L.A.

“We are still here.” Indigenous leaders in L.A. want you to know that their people are not extinct, they’re your neighbors.

The first Q’anjob’al and K’iche’ Maya came to L.A. in the early 1980s, displaced from the highlands of Guatemala by the violence of that country’s long civil war. Their story is similar to that of many Indigenous communities in Latin America and the United States: marked by an astounding resilience despite hundreds of years of colonization, oppression, and forced migration.

Over 500 years ago, eager for new territories and resources, Spain initiated an assault on the diverse and flourishing cultures of the Americas, some of which, like the Maya, have inhabited the land since around 2600 BCE.

During their colonizing campaign, the Spanish killed and exploited the local populations, looted and demolished ancient sites, and destroyed an untold number of codices to repress and erase Indigenous culture, religion, spirituality, and language.

But this attack on Indigenous knowledge didn’t stop when the Spanish left. Governments continue to oppress Indigenous peoples to this day, treating them as second-class citizens, denying them land rights, and exploiting their natural resources.

Therefore, Maya peoples in Central America often migrate to Mexico and many continue their journey to the United States, settling in cities where they can find support systems, such as L.A.

Maya peoples are the living link to a new Getty exhibition on the Códice Maya de México, a precious example of one of the few surviving ancient Indigenous books, written in a pictographic Maya script that has become extinct. The surviving 30 different Mayan languages in Mexico and Central America remain as oral languages without their own script.

This exhibition celebrating an ancient Maya manuscript is a testament to the feats of Indigenous people in the past. But it shouldn’t overshadow the struggles and achievements of the Indigenous communities of the present.

At the forefront of this struggle is the Los Angeles based, intergenerational Indigenous women-led organization Comunidades Indígenas en Liderazgo (CIELO).

Since 2016, CIELO has promoted language revitalization, language-access rights, cultural preservation, and engaged younger generations in all aspects of their work. By bringing visibility and resources to the Indigenous migrant communities in L.A., CIELO confronts the social, economic, and cultural challenges these groups face. In addition to community outreach, [CIELO has created a digital database showing where Indigenous languages are spoken in the LA area.][1]

We sat down with two Maya leaders of CIELO, to discuss their work. Genesis Ek is the administrative director and Aurora Pedro is the Coordinator of the Center for Indigenous Languages and Power (CLIP).

Emilia Sánchez González: Tell us about your story. How do you experience your Indigenous roots in your current environment?

Genesis Ek: I was born in Los Angeles. My parents are Maya from the state of Yucatan, Mexico. It can be really tough to navigate that relationship, especially here. Although my parents didn't teach us how to speak the language fluently, they taught us many cultural aspects of who we are, starting with traditional ceremonies and food. I have tried to inform myself, but it is more so holding on to traditions my parents have passed on to us (whether it was intentional or not).

I think it is important to highlight that even with migration, we don't automatically stop being indigenous, but learn to adapt.

People from the peninsula [the Yucatán Peninsula in southeastern Mexico] wouldn’t identify as Mexican if they are Indigenous, because it’s a label that is based on nationality rather than culture. We share some traits but not all of them; some Mexican Indigenous people might speak very basic Spanish or none at all. I don’t think many people know that.

Aurora Pedro: My family fled Guatemala due to the civil war and arrived in Chiapas, Mexico, in 1982. Three years later they moved to Los Angeles, where I was born. We’re taught by our parents that when you have an Indigenous background, you should learn to be cautious of others. Imagine crossing two or three borders and experiencing racism across all of them. It happens with neighbors, at school with teachers, and when playing with other children. We’re always seen as different.

But your identity is more than your DNA. It’s who you are in relation with others, how you build community.

ESG: What would you like to highlight about your work?

GE: In our language revitalization programs we aim to strengthen communities’ ties to language by offering a safe space. Growing up in the US, our parents taught us to speak Spanish at home and English in school. They didn’t see where Maya would fit in this space that constantly works to erase our existence. It’s a difficult reality to accept that we have to relearn our languages.

CIELO promotes Indigenous literature and training opportunities for interpreters. We’ve also collaborated with L.A.’s police department by providing cultural awareness training to their lead officer and patrol officers and offering workshops on critical areas of Indigenous culture and migration in California.

AP: We need our local public institutions—schools, hospitals, and health services—to take real steps toward language access and provide interpretation, which was particularly crucial at the height of the COVID pandemic.

We produced the Indigenous Language Diversity Map, an advocacy tool to visualize the diverse Indigenous languages spoken in Los Angeles. For example, the data for Kʼicheʼ Maya speakers reveals that the higher concentrations of Maya live in South and East L.A., particularly in the neighborhood of Westlake and with pockets in Canoga Park.

We want to illuminate the data bias that has existed until now so it can translate into policies.