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There are still 15 minutes until
the official 6 p.m. start of Mujeres
Market, but the brick and wood
banquet hall of Riverside’s Life Arts
Center is already humming. Ven-
dors snap Instagram-ready photos
of tables displaying reiki-infused es-
sential oils and vibrant painting of
roosters wearing glasses. Others
prepare free samples of the Peruvi-
an condiment aji verdeand trail
mix coated in tangy chamoy. An in-
strumental cumbia version of
Drake’s “Hotline Bling” plays over-
head.
The temperature on this Thurs-
day in early September has almost
cracked 100 degrees, and even with
sunset approaching, outside it’s
still in the 90s. Gloria Lucas, the 28-
year-old founder and chief execu-
tive of Mujeres Market, explains
that when she brings the traveling
event to Riverside, it’s usually held
in the building’s basement. The
space is bigger, but there’s no air
conditioning down there. So today
they moved everything to the cli-
mate-controlled Florence room,
which normally hosts weddings and
quinceañeras.
Lucas is setting up her tables for
Nalgona Positivity Pride, the Xi-
cana body-positivity group she cre-
ated and out of which Mujeres Mar-
ket grew. She carefully folds T-
shirts emblazoned with messages
like “My Body Is a Decolonial Act of
Resistance Against Patriarchy”
and “Ancestors Guide Me.”
Nalgona is slang for a woman
with a large rear end; it’s often used
as a leering appraisal or to chide
someone for putting on weight.
“That term, if it’s positive, it’s usu-
ally within that context of objectifi-
cation,” Lucas explains. “But I use it
as a way of saying our bodies [are]
taking up as much space as possible
and being unapologetic about it.
There are some folks who say, ‘Well,
I don’t have a big butt.’ And I say,
‘Well, we all have a big butt in our
hearts, and that’s what matters.’ ”
Back in the summer of 2017,
Nalgona Positivity Pride brought
together a group of entrepreneurs
who were all women of color. To-
gether they discussed one of the
main problems they had: finding
fruitful vending opportunities. In
response, Lucas established Mu-
jeres Market as a place where indi-
viduals who identify as women of
color, femmes of color, or queer or
trans people of color can sell their
homemade or independently cre-
ated products.
The first event was held that
July at the Eastside Café, a cultural
center in El Sereno, and included
more than 40 vendors. Mujeres
Market has subsequently had 28 in-
stallments across Southern Califor-
nia, plus a pop-up in Albuquerque
this past summer. In June, the big-
gest Mujeres Market yet took place
at the Rio Hondo Event Center in
Downey, with over 80 vendors at-
tracting several thousand people.
The crowd was so large that after-
ward the event’s organizers had to
pay to get the carpets cleaned.
Mujeres Markets are now mostly
collaborations with other events,
such as the Hollywood Farmers
Market. The Riverside sessions are
tied to the city’s monthly arts walk.
Ambition crystallized
As the Life Arts space begins to
fill with curious customers, Kat Ri-
vera of Boss Annie Crystals buzzes
around her table. Pyrite from Col-
orado, thundereggs from Oregon
and black tourmaline from Mexico
are piled in the upturned lids of
cardboard document boxes. Rivera
is based in the San Fernando Valley
but sources many gems and rocks
through Native American people
on reservations or in vacation
towns around the American South-
west. Other pieces come from as far
away as China and Madagascar.
Beyond the private clients for
whom she tracks down special
items, Rivera sells only at markets
and wellness events. This lack of
overhead means she can offer her
goods at less than the usual going
price. This is her fourth Mujeres
Market in Riverside. “L.A. is over-
saturated with gems and crystal
dealers, and I have my place in it
too, but Riverside is a cool commu-
nity,” she says. “If I make my gas
money back, I’m happy.”
For each Mujeres Market, pro-
spective vendors must fill out an ex-
tensive application, which is re-
viewed by Lucas and Monica Virgen
Zamora, the 27-year-old chief oper-
ations officer. Would-be vendors
also must agree to not sell fat-pho-
bic products, items that promise
weight loss, and sage, palo santo,
dream catchers or other items that
have spurred concerns over cultural
appropriation.
Lucas and Zamora also dig
through each applicant’s social me-
dia accounts to see what type of
material they post, to make sure
there isn’t a conflict.
Though this process helps them
eliminate vendors who aren’t on
their wavelength, they can’t apply
that same filter to customers, who
may not have this same level of cul-
tural awareness. “We created [Mu-
jeres Market] as a way for all of us to
help one another and to be self-reli-
ant. And so we let people know that
that’s why these spaces exist,” Lu-
cas said by phone a week before the
market. “I think outsiders under-
stand that for the most part and are
willing to be open.”
“My therapist is a very nice white
Jewish lady, and she always wants
to come,” Zamora added. “She gen-
uinely wants to help and under-
stand, and wants to shop with in-
tention.”
Veteran Mujeres Market ven-
dors describe what they’ve become
a part of with terms of escalating
endearment. It’s a network. It’s a
community. It’s a family, they say.
The word “empowerment” is used a
lot in these conversations, but that
doesn’t make the sentiment behind
it any less true.
Her launchpad
Dora Lopez Mata of Ontario’s
Dora’s Tiendita explains that when
she was in graduate school five
years ago, she was stressed out by
all the work and how she was going
to pay for her education, so her
partner recommended she take up
some form of art to relax. She
taught herself to make earrings and
soon began selling dangly pieces
adorned with images like raised
fists and sunflowers.She was part
of the second Mujeres Market, and
this Riverside event marks her sev-
enth appearance.
Because Mata’s products have
shown up on the Mujeres Market
social media accounts, she gets in-
vited to sell at other markets
around the region. She estimates
she’s done 25 events. “[Jewelry
making] was something that was
just to take care of myself, and now
it has become something to sustain
me financially,” she says.
As the night nears its end
around 9, Melissa Martinez at
Vegancitas is down to just three of
her vegan vanilla conchas, their
swirled pink, purple and green tops
radiating from inside her small pas-
try case. Jennifer Picos of J’s Trail
Mex, who drove for six and a half
hours from Gilbert, Ariz., is almost
sold out too.
Lucas is already thinking about
her bed about 40 miles away in
Irvine, but she feels good about how
things went and about how many of
her friends from when she lived in
this city as a teenager and into her
early 20s came by. “Riverside has al-
ways supported me,” she says.
POSTCARD FROM L.A.
A welcoming space to sell or shop
VENDORGloria Lucas, top, sets up her booth at the Riverside
Mujeres Market; attendees dance as El Santo Golpe and Milpa
perform; and Tara Torres of Xol y Luna small-batch apothecary.
Photographs by Robert GauthierLos Angeles Times
Women, queer and trans
people of color offer their
homemade goods at the
pop-up Mujeres Markets.
By Eric Ducker
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