Hasta que la dignidad se haga costumbre! & do not settle for tacos without salsa.

Spring 2025, FORUM Magazine

THIS STORY IS TRUE, and it belongs to the school where it happened. Before it turned ugly, it all started when an ordinary child on an ordinary school day said, "Go away, nobody likes you or your Mexican stuff." This racist bullying expression was uttered against my son. I reported this incident to the teacher (who never responded to my email) and to the school principal. She gathered both children in her office and asked them to apologize to each other. My son felt forced to apologize and asked, "What do I have to apologize for?"

My son's question reminded me of my time at the Centro Escolar Benemérito de las Américas (a Mormon boarding school) in Mexico, listening to the radio about the Zapatistas' uprising (Tzeltal, Tzotzil, Chol, Tojolabal, and Mam Indigenous peoples) fighting for social justice and Indigenous rights. When the Mexican government offered them forgiveness for ending their insurrection, the Zapatistas responded:

What do we have to apologize for? 

What are they going to forgive us for? 

For not dying of hunger? 

For not remaining silent in our misery? 

For not having humbly accepted the enormous historical burden of contempt and abandonment? 

For having prepared ourselves well and conscientiously before beginning? 

For not giving up?

For not selling out? 

For not betraying ourselves?

These questions allow me to reflect on my Indigenous Nahua roots, and I was unapologetically proud of who I am and where I come from. The Zapatista movement was more than an armed resistance; it was a shift in consciousness in Mexico and around the world, bringing Indigenous worldviews and their demand for justice. Estela Hernández, a Hñähñu Indigenous woman whose mother received an apology after being jailed in a Mexican prison for 11 years by mistake, called for ¡hasta que la dignidad se haga costumbre! (until dignity becomes customary!). Because a public apology is not enough to heal the physical and emotional harm, Estela pointed out that it must never happen again to anyone. Indigenous communities emphasize that reconciliation goes hand in hand with social justice, and that rituals of apology and forgiveness must be accompanied by actions that repair the harm and prevent it from repeating, while honoring Indigenous values. In this sense, an apology is a ceremonial act of justice.

My son is bicultural and biracial, like many U.S. children; he enjoys everything that comes from being part of two cultures. He listens to regional Mexican music with the same pleasure as American country music. He is Indigenous Nahua-Mexica, and he is European-American, and is appreciative of both sides. However, he was attacked for being Mexican, for bringing Mexicaness into a public school. The instance at Winterberry Charter School will be a memory of the first time my son stood up against racism. But it will also be in the memory of the boy who will have this story as his first racist act; the shame is his, not ours. In our Nahua culture, it is believed that when someone speaks with hateful expressions, their spirit is harmed and starts to wander. In this sense, the harm is not only to the person who receives the offense, but also harms the person who commits it. Moreover, the entire school community is harmed by allowing racist expressions without any accountability or reparative healing measures.

An empty apology is like a taco without salsa: dry and tasteless. There is a need for schools to end the culture of silence on these issues in their communities. According to the U.S. Department of Education in their 2020-2021 Civil Rights Data Collection, BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, and People of Color) students are disproportionately punished more harshly than white students, and they are frequently targeted by bullies with harassment based on their race, ethnicity, and cultural identity. So the incident that my son faced in that school is not an isolated case but a systematic issue that prevents Indigenous Latinx children from accessing education free of racist bullying. We believe that entire communities need to move toward reconciliation and healing, especially for the healing of the younger generations. bell hooks, in her book Teaching to Transgress, said that teaching in a manner that respects and cares for students' souls is essential to creating a healthy learning environment. hooks emphasizes that students need to be empowered to raise questions that challenge racist attitudes and encourages school teachers and principals to create safe spaces for students to process rage, grief, and reconciliation. On the other hand, oppressors will try to impose the duty to apologize on the people they are oppressing. Just like the principal of the school pressured my son to apologize instead of creating space for sincere reflection and reconciliation. I wonder about the Principal´s thoughts. Did she think that forced apologies were a quick fix for racist bullying? The question of who has to apologize is also tied to the healing of communities and nations. That's why I'd like to reflect on the apologies I've seen throughout my life.

On a cold October in Anchorage, I attended the Alaska Federation of Natives annual meeting in 2018, where Governor Bill Walker apologized to Alaska´s First People:

For being forced into boarding schools, I apologize. For being forced to abandon your Native language and adopt a foreign one, I apologize. For erasing your history, I apologize. For the generational and historical trauma you have suffered, I apologize. This apology is long overdue. It is but one step in hundreds more to go on this journey towards truth, reconciliation, and healing.

I left that room with tears in my eyes and feeling deep solidarity for the Alaska Native people who have endured policies from institutions that have systematically sought to erase them. Despite those cruel colonial acts, Alaska Native communities have successfully maintained their community values and culture with dignity and resilience, as their communities continue to thrive in their ancestral lands.

Over the years, I have listened to governments worldwide institutionalize the act of apology. For example, in 1997 in Norway, the King apologized to the Sámi people for centuries of discrimination and assimilation policies, acknowledging the government´s historic role in these injustices. Also, in 2008, the Australian government formally apologized to the Indigenous "Stolen Generations" for policies that forcibly removed Indigenous children from their families. In 2015, Taiwan´s president, Tsai Ing-wen, apologized to the country's Indigenous peoples for centuries of injustice, including land expropriation and assimilation policies, and committed to pursuing reconciliation and justice. In 2019, the Japanese government officially recognized the Ainu as an Indigenous people and issued an apology for the historical discrimination they faced. In October 2024, President Biden formally apologized for the federal government´s role in running boarding schools where thousands of Native American children endured abuse, neglect, and the eradication of their Indigenous identities. These were Biden’s words: “I formally apologize as President of the United States of America for what we did. I formally apologize.” A very short apology for a long history of pain.

Private corporations have also started to use public apologies. For instance, Coca-Cola issued an apology in 2019 for its role in environmental destruction and human rights abuses in various countries. However, Coca-Cola is still considered the top plastic-polluting corporation by Greenpeace. These governmental and corporate apologies often feel like an empty discourse that nullifies accountability. When I refer to accountability, I do not mean it in punitive terms but as accepting responsibility, understanding the impact of the actions, and commitment to repair and prevent any further harm.

The appropriation of the act of apologizing by governments and corporations turns it into another colonial tool to undermine the harm and the grief, obligating communities to leave it in the past and get over it. These apologies haven´t included Indigenous people's perspectives, nor have Indigenous people had decision-making power in the apology process. Including the people who have been affected allows for restorative actions and respects Indigenous protocols. When Indigenous communities are involved and listened to, they can decide how restorative healing can genuinely be achieved.

Sometimes I imagine what would have happened if both my son and the person who bullied him were asked how the situation could be repaired and healed; would that have felt more just and sincere? True accountability requires engagement and dedication of time. That may also have implied ongoing class conversations, school-wide initiatives for accountability, and the prevention of bullying and racism in the future. Silencing these conversations in the community is highly violent. Silencing strategies may sound like "don't spread it because they're just kids," or they may even threaten by labeling it as gossiping. But community conversations are also a way to protect each other from aggressors. The commitment to dialogue, acknowledging one another, and reaching agreements is a healing practice in many Indigenous communities.

Governments have also issued apologies to comply with their legal obligations. In the case of Cotton Field vs. Mexico, the Mexican government was found responsible for feminicide, a result of the ongoing violence against women. Feminicide stems from thousands of missing and murdered women. The Inter-American Court of Human Rights enforced, among other remedies, the obligation to publicly apologize to the victims' families, recognizing the government’s failures to protect women and effectively investigate their murders. These were the words of the recent apology in 2024 by Arturo Medina Padilla, representing the Mexican government in the case Silvia Elena Rivera Morales and Others vs. Mexico:

“We recognize that the Mexican State violated these girls' and women's fundamental right to life. Not only did the authorities fail to protect them, but in many cases, they were the ones who perpetrated or tolerated the violence. The girls and women of Ciudad Juárez—especially young women from marginalized backgrounds—were victims of at least three vulnerabilities: for being women, for being young, and for living in conditions of poverty and inequality.”

This apology is made in an environment where 10 women are murdered in Mexico every day, ranking Mexico with the highest numbers of feminicide in Latin America. As a woman who grew up in Mexico, I have faced the machismo culture. Machismo was inherited from the colonial period, where violence against women was normalized, particularly affecting Indigenous and Afromexican women by subjecting them to a subordinate social status, inequality, and racial discrimination. That is why repeated apologies without subsequent actions to eradicate gender violence can prompt public cynicism and mistrust toward the government, making feminicide a fashionable crime without consequences. Hence, the government's apology becomes an instrument to silence the demands of the affected families, exacerbating feelings of betrayal and neglect and undermining the very purpose of the apology. This kind of apology does not acknowledge the grief of the affected families, as it does not guarantee non-repetition. Apologies cannot be self-beneficial to the aggressor, washing as an act of confession that centers his/her experience while invalidating the harmful realities of racism.

In my son’s story, obligating the children to apologize was more of a move to end a situation that merited raising awareness about racist speech and bullying. Downplaying these experiences and avoiding responsibilities shuts down the opportunity for understanding, reconciliation, and healing. Apologies should be an honest and effective preventive process, and maybe schools should start by apologizing to Indigenous, Black, and Latinx kids whose lived experiences have been invalidated by the staff, especially where there is a lack of clear policies and consequences for bullying and racist acts.

In 2019, the University of California, Berkeley, formally apologized for its historical ties to slavery, acknowledging the institution's contributions to racial injustice. Also, Duke University in 2020 formally acknowledged and apologized for its historical connections to slavery, recognizing that the university benefited from the labor of enslaved people and the need for ongoing reparative actions. Both universities fund African American studies and pledge to increase support for Black students and faculty, among other measures. However, those measurements have been perceived by their community as symbolic but insufficient to lead to racial reconciliation. The Black Lives Matter movement said universities focused on the symbolic gesture of apologizing rather than doing systematic reforms. Apologies, then, are being used more for Tokenism than for reparations and reconciliation. Perhaps, if the Black community, especially those who are descendants of enslaved people, were involved in the decision-making of the allocation of funding and the structuring and implementation of reparative justice.

In 2023, I was a teaching assistant for Professor Tia Tidwell's class, "History of Colonization in Alaska: The Indigenous Response," at the University of Alaska Fairbanks. During that time, Pope Francis repudiated the "Doctrine of Discovery" in 2023. This doctrine, issued in 1452, justified European colonization and the appropriation of Indigenous lands, influencing U.S. legal systems for centuries, including its use against the Oneida Indian Nation in 2005. The Pope's repudiation followed his apology to Indigenous Peoples in Canada for the church’s role in residential school abuses, where he stated, "I humbly beg forgiveness for the evil committed by so many Christians against the Indigenous peoples." While the apology marked a step toward reconciliation, it lacked specificity regarding institutional responsibility and did not include land returns or reparations for survivors, hindering true healing and justice.

Indigenous people are entitled to tell their stories, and it is our right to share our truths, name our lived experiences, and maintain a collective memory in pursuit of social justice, because it is part of the healing process. The way Indigenous people do this may take many forms, and it is shaped by the specific Indigenous culture and worldview. For Tlingit people, using shaming poles encourages public accountability and promotes a sense of justice that aligns with their culture. This is the case of the "Seward Shaming Pole," initially made in 1869 because William Seward never reciprocated a potlatch offered by Chief Ebbits of Tongass Village. Potlatch is a traditional ceremonial feast that is part of a complex Indigenous protocol to build long-term relationships. In 2017, the Tlingit artist Stephen Jackson restored the Seward Shaming Pole on the 150th anniversary of the Alaska Purchase. This anniversary is significant because William Seward was the man who arranged the purchase of Alaska from Russia for the United States, ignoring Tlingit sovereignty over their territory. To acknowledge the continued shame of an offense that has still not been put to rest, Jackson painted Seward’s face white and his ears and nostrils red as a mark of shame.

Emily Moore wrote in the Alaska Historical Society: “As several Tlingits in the Saxman community have stated, the shame pole has come to stand not so much for the specific 1869 potlatch that remains unpaid in terms of dollars or stacks of furs. Instead, it is—and perhaps always was—more about Seward’s failure to recognize the status and sovereignty of Chief Ebbits and his Taant’a kwáan people, and of their claims to the land and waterways that Seward claimed to buy.” The Seward Shaming Pole is a symbolic response to the injustices made by the U.S. government representative (Seward) that facilitated the buying and selling of the Tlingit territory. However, the pole is also a symbol of the resilience of the Tlingit people and a powerful statement about the ongoing impacts of colonialism and the importance of honoring Indigenous rights and narratives as a part of community healing. I like to think that shaming poles are also a symbolic representation of the absence of apology for past wrongdoings, like stories of unjust acts that transfer the shame to the aggressor.

To finish the Winterberry Charter School´s story, it is, in a way, a shaming story for that school, a story that stands for all the students who are treated unjustly in schools. My son should never have had to apologize in the first place; the apology has to come from the aggressor for it to be fair and just. In all of the discussions that took place, our son was never asked what could be done to mend the harm and regain the trust that was lost. Also, the school could have created effective protocols to prevent this from happening to future Indigenous, Latinx, and Black students. Just as the empty apologies from institutions and corporations were ineffective for reparation and reconciliation, the school's apologies were equally void of a promise of meaningful change, so we left. We decided to leave the school as an act of dignity and refusal to the ongoing witnessing of cruelty, where apologies were used as another way to harm. A third of the class also left, but that is their story to tell.

Apologies should not be another colonial tactic to wash away and diminish the gravity of past wrongs. The questions raised by the Zapatistas remain relevant: Who holds the responsibility to apologize, and who can give forgiveness? Apologies will be effective if Indigenous people are part of the decision-making process, so their perspectives and cultural practices are honored, making apologies and reconciliation meaningful and long-lasting. Indigenizing apology facilitates the building of genuine relationships with Indigenous communities and fosters true healing and meaningful reconciliation. An apology is not merely a unilateral acknowledgment of past mistakes but also a commitment to repair. ■

By Itzel Zagal, a writer inspired by community and cultural resilience. Itzel is a 2025 FORUM Writing Fellow.