When I think of what it means to be an ally, I think of a protest I attended in 1994. I was marching along with countless other Latinos carrying flags from Mexico, El Salvador, and other Latin American countries. When I looked more closely at the crowd, I noticed that there were also whites, Asian Americans, and African Americans in the mass of people moving down Cesar E. Chavez Boulevard. The crowd moved peacefully, almost gracefully, as the sun beat down overhead. We wore t-shirts and jeans, hats, and sunglasses to guard against the sun’s glare. It was a Sunday and, depending on who you talked to, there were between 60,000 and 100,000 people on the streets that day.