Con Sazón y Pasión

A 2 a.m. alarm, bitter Nescafé steaming in a used mug, rustling grease-stained clothes. These indicators meant my father, Rigoberto Garcia, would begin his morning shift at The UCLA Luskin Conference Center. A 20-45 minute commute every morning, 4 a.m. to 2 p.m. shifts, five days a week, and in bed by 8 p.m. The only times I saw him was during dinnertime, standing over the stove while he cooked. 

Cooking is an act of labor. My father is not new to cooking. From the cool winter breezes in 1985, he faced the vaporous steams of warm dishes, navigating the Marina del Rey workforce in hopes of moving from wiping plates to preparing dishes. Soon, he worked long hours, cycling from Inglewood to Redondo Beach, serving clients along the shores. To him, cooking was a “relación con respecto,” respecting its artistry and the fundamentals to create quality meals. Food sustains the people we feed, connecting our identities to new audiences. Often, people jokingly remark, “compliments to the chef,” and the chef in question is often a working-class Latine. We—students included—forget that Latine line cooks merge cultural barriers with their work, introducing us to amazing meals. Cooking at home is “[cooking] to your traditions…to your [desired] traditional seasonings,” but I’d argue it expands outside the household. His “touch,” as my father likes to call it, is always felt, both at home and in the meals made on campus.

After working nearly ten years in hospitality services, my father received news from my uncle Miguel that their former employer, Ralph Zavala, would become an assistant chef to the new UCLA Conference and Catering Department and needed new chefs. This opportunity opened not only new palates, but opportunities for my father. 

Workers such as my father and uncle make up 26.4% of the non-academic workforce, the largest non-white demographic, as per the 2022 UCLA Non-Academic Staff Census. Reflecting on these statistics, I often felt that wherever I was—in the dining halls or my daily commutes to class—I would encounter workers who resembled my father. Their tired complexions reflect the same anguish my father exhibited as his calloused hands rubbed his face after returning from a 12-hour shift. Factoring in the AFSCME (American Federation of State, County, and Municipal Employees) report “Priced Out: The University’s Role in the Affordability Crisis” which reports that ⅔ of the Latine workforce make up 30% of the front-line services workers that are paid less than $25 an hour, we begin to see that our BIPOC workers are severely undervalued by the administration, despite heavily relying on their labor. Our Latine workforce work tirelessly to not only serve students and faculty, but to provide for our own families as well. 

Labor unions play an integral role in both the workplace, but fostering intimate relationships with our families. Acknowledging the necessity of labor unions, my father says, “You feel a sense of security…that [your supervisors] aren’t [exploiting] you for your hours.” My family has been an active member of AFSCME 3299 since the late ‘90s. In the past 20 years, both my sister and I have joined my dad on monumental strikes. 

Most recently, my dad, his coworkers and I jokingly reminisced on the old strike chants while we sat together on Nov. 20, 2024 strikes. “UCLA es de nosotros,” UCLA is ours. Workers and students create culture and showing solidarity only strengthens our goals towards a better future. The shared moments I’ve had with my dad and with the union reminds me that our relationship to unions is not just in the workplace but with our families who keep the union alive.

Cooking, labor, and relationships are uniquely intertwined to us. When I cook with my father, I’m instantly transported into a cramped kitchen, sauteing mushrooms while the sous chef critiques my hand technique. You’re in the thoughts of Carmy in The Bear, experiencing a nervous breakdown over seared chicken. For my father, however, this is his routine; the kitchen is his domain. He spoke adamantly on cooking, noting, “For me, it’s a pleasure to cook…attempting to combine flavors [and] each time [you’re] creating new flavors.” Cooking is a driving sensation my father evoked into me, a never-ending passion to find something greater. 

My father’s hands illustrate a story of passion, un sazón, a “touch” that will forever be ingrained into the meals created here at UCLA. His drive to create something, a dream larger than himself is a legacy not only for myself to carry, but for the workers who make this university what it is. This is nuestra universidad, this is our university.