Q&A: Albert Camarillo on Compton in the soul, UCLA en el corazón

Albert M. Camarillo recalls that in 1966, when he started at UCLA, there were fewer than 50 Mexican American and maybe 100 Black students in the entire population of 27,000 Bruin undergraduates.

"And yet, there were 650,000 people of Mexican origin and another 600,000 African Americans within a 30-mile radius of UCLA," said Camarillo, who grew up in nearby Compton.

The changes and complexities of these formative places and experiences deeply influenced Camarillo's outlook and ambition as he became a double Bruin, professor emeritus in Stanford University's history department, and a founding scholar of Chicano studies and Mexican American history.

In his recent memoir, "Compton in My Soul: A Life in Pursuit of Racial Equality," Camarillo recounts the complicated journey he and his hometown have undergone over the years - and how he has been able to follow a blue-and-gold through line along the way.

"When I see and interact with UCLA students today, it brings back so many great memories," he said. "I hope this institution has the same transformative, wonderful, positive impact that it had on me. That hope cuts to the corazón (heart) because UCLA is a part of the fabric of who I am."

What does it mean to you to have "Compton in your soul"?

I chose the title because there are so many threads of family, culture and society that always bring me back to that place.

My father immigrated from Michoacán (Mexico) at the age of 10, searching for his father, who had relocated to Compton. There, he met my mother and her family. They were among the first immigrant families to settle permanently in the highly segregated barrio in Compton. I grew up surrounded by an extended network of tías, tíos and abuelos. The Catholic Church was next door, giving us a sense of belonging, even in a segregated community. This was the anchor of family.

Attending public school during the desegregation of Compton schools and the significant increase in the African American population was another anchor point for me. I went to primary and middle school on the west side of Compton as it was becoming predominantly Black. Later, I attended a segregated white high school because my sister urged our family to move, anchoring me in the white community.

It wasn't until I went to UCLA that I began to understand the racial dynamics of American society. This understanding helped me appreciate the multiracial experience I had in Compton, which has influenced me throughout my life.

In your book, you describe being on Bruin Walk when you learned about the Great Grape Boycott led by Dolores Huerta and César Chávez. What other places on campus are steeped in history for you?

Pauley Pavilion, because I had used sports as a basis to - in a way - become a better student. You have to be regimented, scheduled and committed to doing something if you're an athlete, right?

Also, as a freshman basketball player in 1966, seeing the start of a dynasty at UCLA led by Coach John Wooden, I look back and I understand now, of course, how lucky my teammates and I were.

Being a member of the basketball team allowed me to feel anchored to the university, especially during my first two years, when I was struggling mightily just to keep my head afloat academically.

What was it like to share time on the court with Lew Alcindor (Kareem Abdul-Jabbar)?

I met Kareem when I joined the freshman squad and he was a sophomore on their undefeated varsity squad. We all knew he was a titan of basketball in the making, and there was no question that he was going to have an outstanding NBA career. He was also a history major and has shown his talents as a writer, authoring several books, many about history. He was a standout athlete because he took a stand when other athletes didn't. He's a national treasure.

What was it like to be one of the first Mexican Americans to earn a Ph.D. in history from UCLA - and the country as a whole?

My colleagues and contemporaries knew we were among, if not, the first Chicanos who were committed to becoming faculty members in higher education. We set out to be the best teachers and academics that we could be, to write the books that would help lay the foundations for understanding ethnic studies, in our case, Chicano studies and Latino studies.

Some of us survived in the academic world; some didn't. There were very few faculty of color at institutions of American higher education in the early and mid-70s. But we were on a mission, and I knew our efforts would one day lead to institutional and intergenerational change.

The evolution of ethnic studies, which of course includes Chicano studies, has gone through a huge development. My generation started out with relatively few people. Now, there are hundreds more doing this work at hundreds of universities. In California, high schools must begin offering ethnic studies courses in the 2025-26 school year.

Still, today we are witnessing a political assault on ethnic studies across the country. It's a challenge to reconcile that progress and resistance, but it's also recognition that we've achieved something so successful.

Could you talk about your involvement with the UCLA Chicano Studies Research Center and its lecture series that bears your name?

The center was founded in 1969, when I was a senior at UCLA, and I was deeply involved in its first few years. One of my first books, "Furia y Muerte: Los Bandidos Chicanos," was released by its publishing arm, Aztlán Publications.

The Albert M. Camarillo Lecture series is a way for me to give back to the institution that has played such a huge part in my intellectual life. I hope it provides a space where past, present and future scholars can share their work with the Latino and broader UCLA community.

What does it mean to you to see UCLA making progress toward becoming a Hispanic Serving Institution?

To think that we would get to experience this level of institutional change in just 50 years and that UCLA would come to boast such a diverse student body - I could have never imagined it in my wildest dreams.

This societal change shows the best of who we are as nation and proves that our institutions of higher education can adapt, be inclusive and be more democratic.