Guest columnist Cristóbal Cavazos: Changes at new 'Fort Cavazos' must go deeper than its name

The May 9 renaming of Fort Hood, dropping its old Confederate name in favor of Fort Cavazos in honor of the first Latino four-star and highly decorated Army Gen. Richard Cavazos, is indeed a symbolic victory. It needs to be more than that.

Cavazos grew up on the famous King Ranch in Kingsville, Texas, was a Tejano, or native Texan of Mexican descent who went to a segregated school along with his brother Lauro, who would become the first Latino Secretary of State. In the Army, Richard Cavazos led "The Borinqueneers," a segregated regiment made up of Mexican and Puerto Rican soldiers during the Korean War. It is widely known that King Ranch once belonged to the Cavazos family as the San Juan de Carricitos Spanish land grant when Texas was México. Cavazos and his family were ranch hands for the descendants of Richard King to whose hands passed the Cavazos' property, with a little help from the Texas Rangers.

By all accounts, Richard Cavazos was a brave man, in a time which lingers on today, when the military is one of the few outlets for working class Chicanos in the Southwest.

"We are proud to be renaming Fort Hood as Fort Cavazos in recognition of an outstanding American hero, a veteran of the Korea and Vietnam wars and the first Hispanic to reach the rank of four-star general in our Army," Lt. Gen. Sean Bernabe, commanding general of the III Armored Corps and Fort Hood said in a prepared statement.

But we can't confuse symbolism for substance. More Fort Hood soldiers have died in homicides than in battle since 2016, particularly Latinas. The recent death of 20-year-old Private Ana Basaldúa Ruíz, was yet another reminder that something bad is spinning under the hood of the erstwhile fort.

Basaldua's mother, Alejandra Ruiz Zarco, told Telemundo News that Ana had told her a few weeks ago that an Army superior "was harassing her" and that she was the target of repeated sexual advances on the base. This, as we still mourn the death by slaying of Vanessa Guillen, a beautiful Latina 20-year-old Army specialist, reported missing from the Killeen, Texas, base in April 2020, shortly after she told friends she was being sexually harassed at Fort Hood.

A study released in 2021 by the RAND Arroyo Center, a federally funded research group, found that women at Fort Hood had a far higher risk of sexual assault than the average woman in the Army, particularly those serving-their-country-while-Latina.

The changes at the fort must go deeper than its name. With the death of Vanessa Guillén and especially with the public outcry, former Army Secretary Ryan McCarthy investigated and found "major flaws" in a command structure "permissive of sexual harassment and sexual assault." The top officer in charge of the 55,000 troops at Fort Hood was removed and disciplined along with 20 others.

This was in 2020, the recent death of Ana Basaldúa Ruíz, shows little to nothing has changed, apart from the name.

"Cavazos," by the way came to me from my grandfather, David Cavazos De León, a descendant of Spanish-blooded Mexicans and landowners from Reynosa Mexico. My father Ramiro and his two brothers were "transferred" to the United States with my beloved Abuela Maria Terán and her Indigenous parents, originally from San Luis Potosi, Mexico, by my grandfather when he revealed his love for another woman.

My father and uncles would go on to struggle as migrant workers with their mother and elderly grandparents. Never really identifying with the "Cavazos" name, they often talked of changing their name to Terán, in spite of the would-be prestige of their old "Hidalgo" surname. "Cavazos" is a type of North Spanish granary built on stilts to protect the corn and wheat from the Galician rain.

Like my father and my uncles, I also feel little connection to the name, even if I am not, as far as I know, related to the famous general. But I do feel the obligation as a Cavazos to put the struggle, the Latino love and solidarity behind the name and seek justice for the latinas behind its walls past and present.

Yo soy Vannesa Guillen y Ana Basaldúa Ruíz, también!

• Cristóbal Cavazos, of Wheaton, a member of the Daily Herald editorial sounding board, is co-founder of Immigrant Solidarity DuPage and an activist for the Latino community in Chicago's Western suburbs.