(Martha and Alfredo, a love story. Forty-seven years of love, patience, and deep respect for one another.)
From running Alisol Flower Shop to shaping East Los Angeles politics, Latino community leader East Los Angeles activist Martha Jiménez exemplifies resilience, advocacy, and the power of grassroots leadership.
When she was a child, Martha Jiménez was quiet, but she knew how to defend herself — something she has done throughout her life.
“My mom used to put a stone in my school bag,” Martha recalls with a laugh. “She gave it to me so I could defend myself. It was a good size. If someone tried to bother me, I’d take it out and throw it. I had very good aim.”
Today, Martha is the owner of Alisol Flower Shop in East Los Angeles, but she is much more than a business owner. Over the years she has become an activist, a community organizer, and a symbol of the Latino community’s struggle and resilience.
“I don’t like it when politicians lie,” she says firmly. “If they promise something, they have to deliver. I’ve been invited many times to run for public office, but I’ve never wanted to. Sometimes it feels like they want to silence me. From the outside I can worry about the community and actually do something for it.”
Before the interview, another Latina activist told us something revealing: “If a candidate wants to win, they first need Martha’s approval. The community loves her. People trust her. If she supports someone, it’s because she believes they will truly work for the community.”
When we mention this to Martha, she bursts into laughter.
“Did they really say that?” she asks, smiling with a transparent, genuine warmth.
“I’ve always tried to help people, to contribute even a small grain of sand to their problems. If someone comes asking for help, I’m not going to turn them away. I’ll figure out how to solve it. Here, nobody leaves without support. If someone is hungry, we help with food. If they have another problem, we make calls, we contact people, we try to find a solution.”
One person who always supported her and opened both her office and her heart to Martha was the late Gloria Molina.
“Gloria Molina was fearless,” Martha remembers. “She was a leader who always spoke up. If she heard someone talking behind her back, she would go and confront them.”
Molina once told her: “Martha, if you ever need anything, call me. Go to whatever office you need to resolve something. And if they don’t help you, tell them: ‘Since you won’t help me, I’m going to call Supervisor Gloria Molina and let her know.’”
Martha laughs again as she tells the story.
“You should have seen it. They would immediately say, ‘No, ma’am, please sit down. We’ll resolve your problem right away.’ They respected Gloria Molina so much.”
Her voice softens when she talks about her death.
“It hurt me deeply. She was my role model. My idol. I wanted to be like her. Listening to her motivated me. Seeing her motivated me. Eventually we became friends. She would come to the flower shop just to talk. One day she brought the most delicious capirotada I’ve ever tasted. We ate it right here while we talked.”
Martha pauses.
“She sat right there. She never acted important, even though she was. She was community. She breathed community.”
Two days before Molina passed away, Martha received a message from her.
“That’s something I treasure deeply. One of the most important things in my life. She asked me never to change the way I am, keep helping the community and never abandon it.”
When Molina died, Martha arranged the flowers for her funeral.
“I wanted to give them as a gift, but her family insisted on paying. I made them with so much love.”
Martha has known many Latino politicians — in good times and bad. With the same loyalty that defines her character, she acknowledges her friendship with former Los Angeles councilman José Huizar, now in prison on corruption charges.
“I won’t deny it. He made mistakes,” she says. “But I know he is a good person. He will have to pay for those errors. Still, I will never stop caring about him. Something strange happened there, I’m sure of it. My daughter even used to sing the Mexican national anthem at his events. A friend is a friend — you stand by them in good times and bad.”
“I Am Jalisciense and Michoacana”
Martha was born in Guadalajara. Her parents were from Jalisco and Michoacán, and she speaks about her roots with deep pride.
“My father was a very good man,” she says. “He owned a well-known bakery in the city and took great care of his workers. I helped there since I was little.”
She loved studying and dreamed of having a profession.
“I eventually became the executive secretary to a well-known politician. I also knew accounting.”
Growing up, she loved dancing and spending time with friends.
“I was like Cinderella,” she laughs. “Everyone followed me. I had charisma. I was the oldest and the only girl among seven brothers.”
Her brothers taught her how to defend herself.
“My childhood was very happy. I loved dancing. Life moved very fast — one thing after another. My dad would let me go dancing with my friends every other Saturday. When we couldn’t go out, we would have fun at home.”
Those dance nights sometimes lasted until dawn.
“We’d dance until six in the morning and then go eat menudo. My father’s workers also protected me. If they saw someone bothering me, they would step in.”
But everything changed when she was 19.
Suddenly, her father told the family they had to leave Guadalajara and move to Los Angeles.
“I suffered a lot,” she says. “Everything was different — the culture, the city. I didn’t leave the house at first. Imagine going from a good job, friends, dances… to a completely different life. But I knew I had to support my parents.”
Her father found work in a downtown Los Angeles building. During one visit, Martha learned they needed someone who knew sewing.
“I loved embroidery and sewing,” she says.
They tested her skills and hired her. She earned good money and began building a new life.
“I always could connect with people,” she says.
Eventually, she met Alfredo there — the man who would become her husband.
They have been married for 47 years.
“Every five years he proposes to me again,” she says proudly. “He always says it’s to strengthen our relationship and remind us that we are meant for each other.”
“I Am an Instrument of God”
A few months ago, Martha suffered a serious accident and a pulmonary embolism.
“I felt like I was dying,” she recalls. “In the ambulance, I opened my eyes and saw my husband getting farther and farther away.”
She survived, but the experience changed her life.
“It made me realize I still want to do many things. I want to go back to school. I want my granddaughters to see me studying and improving. I want to take a business administration course.”
When the community learned about her illness, the concern spread far beyond her family. News reports covered it. People gathered at the flower shop to pray for her recovery.
Her family showed her videos in the hospital.
“It looked like a living funeral,” she says. “Everyone is praying for me. Those prayers healed me. The energy of my community brought me back.”
She still experiences lingering effects from the illness, though they are not always visible.
Despite advice to retire and close, Martha refuses.
“This place helps me live,” she says.
Her family moved to East Los Angeles 45 years ago. The flower shop opened in 1999. For more than three decades they have also organized a large community posada every December.
“I won’t leave it,” she says. “People find a home here — a family, a community.”
She beams when she talks about her grandson helping serve food at the posada.
“That fills my heart.”
One day she saw her son arrive without shoes.
“I asked him, ‘Where are your sneakers?’ He said, ‘I gave them to a friend. He was going out with his girlfriend and didn’t have shoes, so I gave him mine.”
She smiles.
“That’s when I know what we do matters.”
“Calladita te ves más bonita”
Martha walks the neighborhood often. She knows the streets and the people.
“If I see someone running for office and they have courage, I tell them: ‘Are you ready? Let’s go knock on doors together.’”
But she still refuses to run for office herself.
“Sometimes I say to myself, ‘I look better staying quiet.’ If I enter politics, I limit my activism.”
Many politicians come to the flower shop seeking her support.
Sometimes she looks at them and says:
“God bless you — but I don’t even know you. Nobody has seen you in the community.”
At night, Martha keeps a notebook next to her bed.
“Sometimes I wake up with an idea about how to solve someone’s problem,” she says. “I write it down. My husband asks, ‘What are you doing?’ and I tell him.”
When problems seem impossible, she turns to faith.
“I tell myself: focus on the Virgin, and things will work out.”
She smiles.
“And they do.”
“That’s why they call me Señora Milagros. I’m living proof. You should never lose faith.”
Before finishing the conversation, she adds one last invitation:
“My husband makes the pozole for the posada in December. Don’t miss it.”
