Isabel Rios and The Beauty Mark Girls

This story is based on a true story that my mom, Isabel, told me about before she was hit with dementia. The last names of all the people in the story have been changed to protect their identities, the first names are real names. This will be a two, possibly three, part story as it gets very detailed.

The black and white photos of the girls in the photo at the top of this story are photos I found from a Google search. They are not the original girls in the story.The photos represent what I believe each girl looked like due to my mom's descriptions of each. A few of the photos are of girls that were well-known in the early 1950s. The main photo is a colorized photo of my mom from 1947 when she was 10 years old. I changed her hairstyle and tried to age progress her face to make her look fourteen years old.

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Isabel stood outside her house at 7 a.m., waiting for her friend Nellie so they could walk to school together. Today was their first day of ninth grade. At fourteen, they had just graduated from junior high and were now starting high school.

Spotting Nellie approaching down the street, Isabel waved. Nellie waved back and quickened her pace.

"Isabel, you look so cute! I love your new dress—you look so sophisticated."

"Thank you," Isabel replied with a confident, no-nonsense tone.

"You’re so lucky. You always have such beautiful clothes and shoes. You always look great."

"I work hard for everything I have. I spent the whole summer working six days a week in the fields, picking potatoes, onions, and other crops."

"That’s such hard work, Isabel. I hate working in the fields. I’d rather fold laundry," Nellie commented as they began their walk to school.

"I do laundry too, but I make more money in the fields. It’s tough work, but I don’t hate it. I usually sing Nat’s songs while I work. I love the way he sings, ‘Mona Lisa, Mona Lisa, men have named you.’"

"Oh yes, that’s a good song."

"Yes, he has such a smooth voice. I’d marry him. He has money and a nice smile."

"You think your mom would approve of you marrying a Black man?"

"Oh yes, my mom is hip. She’s always taught me, ‘It doesn’t matter the color of the skin or the language you speak—everyone is worthy of the same respect and love.’"

"Your mom is so smart."

"Yes, she is."

Lunch Time

“Nellie!” Isabel shouted to get her attention.

Nellie waved at Isabel and walked over to the table where she was sitting with two other girls in the cafeteria.

Isabel introduced them. “Nellie, this is Barbara—I think you’ve met her before—and this is Barbara’s friend, Dianne. Nellie is my best friend.”

The girls politely shook hands.

“Have a seat, Nellie,” Isabel said, gesturing to the chair next to her. “We were just talking about boys.”

“Yes,” Dianne said. “I was just talking about Frankie Ledesma.”

“You mentioned he has a friend—Melvin Gregory,” Barbara added.

“Yes,” Dianne continued. “Frankie took me to the Bakersfield Softball Summer’s End Picnic last month. We were munching on some chips and dip when his friend Melvin walked up. He prefers to be called Mel, and he is gorgeous. He’s sixteen years old and even has a little facial hair growing.”

Isabel cut in. “Does he have blonde hair?”

“No, his hair is dark. He looks like he’s half white and half Mexican. Mel sat down with us, and he kept looking at me—I liked it. Frankie excused himself to get some hot dogs. In the meantime, Mel scooted next to me and said he noticed I had looked back at him. Then he pinched my thigh. I moved away, but he slid closer, grabbed me around the waist, and forcefully pulled me toward him. It hurt, and he didn’t even care.”

“Qué tonto,” Isabel muttered angrily.

“Sí, un verdadero idiota,” Dianne agreed. “So, I’ve been thinking these past few weeks about starting a girls’ club, or gang, so we can protect each other from these boys.”

“You mean, like, to beat them up if they get out of line?” Isabel asked.

“Well, maybe not that extreme. But we can confront them.”

“Some of these boys can get pretty rough,” Isabel said. “A few months ago, Jerome Mendez got aggressive with my cousin Rosie and got up her dress. I happened to walk out to the back of the house where they were. He was on top of her, and she was kicking and crying. I grabbed a shovel and told him he better leave, or I’d kill him. When he got up, I spit in his face.”

“Esos chicos están todos sucios,” Nellie said in disgust.

Isabel spoke quickly. “I’m in.”

“Los mugrosos,” Nellie muttered. “I’m in too.”

“That’s great,” Dianne said. “With the four of us here and three other friends of mine, we have seven. Let’s meet at my house after school on Thursday.”

The First Meeting

On a hot sunny Bakersfield afternoon all seven girls, plus an eighth, met up at Dianne’s house.

The girls sat comfortably in the backyard at a wooden picnic table with benches.

Dianne stood to call the meeting..

“Welcome girls. I am happy to see such a good turnout. I think we all know each other either from school or the neighborhood. But let’s go clockwise around the table and introduce ourselves and give a brief reason why you are here tonight. I’ll start.”

Dianne remained standing as she introduced herself, “My name is Dianne Amaya. I am here today because I am sick and tired of boys like Melvin Gregory thinking it’s okay to touch us girls whenever they want. I want to do whatever I can to let them know it’s not alright.”

“My name is Maria Luisa Rodriguez. For the past month Phillip March has been bugging me. Whenever he sees me he pinches me in the behind and makes nasty comments to me. He’s a dirty pig and I’ve had about as much as I can take.”

“I am Jesusa Rodriguez. My sister,” Jesusa looks at Maria Luisa, “told me about this meeting and I felt compelled to be here. I’ve seen how some of the boys treat the girls and it really bothers me. I want to help to make a difference.”

“I am Barbara Womack. Dianne has been talking about starting a group like this for a few months. So I am kind of baked into this group. One of my brother's friends, Jason Bouve, says a lot of disgusting things to me when my brother is not around. A few weeks ago he told me that he was going to get me one of these days. I have been spooked ever since and I’m heartbroken about what is going on here in Bakersfield. Everybody seems to turn a blind eye.”

“My name is Jonalee Parker. I’m new in town and I look forward to getting to know all of you. I overheard Dianne talking about this group with another girl in English class and asked her if I could join. My family moved here from Oklahoma about four months ago. But, I have remained incognito dressing in baggy boys clothes and boys basketball sneakers with my hair tucked up in a beanie.”

“Why do you dress that way?” Isabel asked.”

“So, the boys leave me alone. The school principal gave me special permission to dress this way.”

“Oh, I see,” Isabel said, “I love your southern accent. It reminds me a bit of my cousin from Rockport, Texas.”

“I’ve seen you in school,” Barbara commented, “It’s nice to see your beautiful blonde hair.”

“Thank you, Barbara, I love your sleek dark hair. It’s very stylish.”

“This is not my natural hair,” Barbara responded, “I chemically straighten it as a principle of good grooming as per the school dress code. I am guessing because I’m black the principal will not give me special permission to wear my hair naturally.”

“Oh, I’m sorry Barbara,” Jonalee said, “There is a reason why the principal lets me dress like a boy. I was raped by my uncle two years ago in Oklahoma. It was a brutal attack. I was 13 years old. Then his friend started touching me after my uncle beat me. I wasn’t the only girl they attacked. We moved here to Bakersfield about a few months ago to get away from my uncle. From what I know he is still forcing girls to do things and nobody does anything about it. Because of this I am emotionally distraught and whenever a boy looks at me in a certain way I get nervous and my body starts shaking. Until I met Dianne I felt alone in this.”

“My name is Ramona Maldonado and I am extremely angry at the boys in this town. They do and say whatever they want and nobody holds them accountable. There’s been a few different boys who’ve tried to touch me and other things. I told my mom about this and she told me to keep quiet because they will blame it on me. I am steaming mad. It’s just not fair. They’re not gonna get away with it anymore.”

“Hello, my name is Isabel Rios,” Isabel stood up as she spoke, “And I am standing to show that I am going to stand up to these boys and they’re not going to get away with it anymore. Two boys, brothers, Jonathan and James Larson cornered me one day and knocked me to the ground and tried to have their way with me. But I was able to kick them off of me. I punched, I kicked and I bit them. I’m ready to do whatever it takes to get the boys here in Bakersfield, California in line. They cannot be doing what they’re doing anymore. If I have to do it by myself, I will hold those boys accountable. I’m not afraid of them, but let me tell you they’re gonna be afraid of me. And Jonalee I am sorry that you had to experience such a violent act against your body. I am here for you if you ever need to talk.”

In her soft spoken manner Nellie introduced herself, ”I am Nellie Morales and I’m best friends with Isabel. James and Jonathan have also bothered me. They’ve touched me and said some nasty things to me. They just don’t leave me alone. It is time that us girls did something to stop it.”

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Thank you to Rachel Robbins for proofreading this story. Rachel is a professional proofreader and can be reached via Facebook Messenger or in the Facebook Group Vocal + Assist where she is an admin.

I also used ChatGPT to do some of the initial proofreading. However due to the nature of this story ChatGPT refused to do any further proofing.

Thank you, Cousin Tiffany Gordon for your input on the main photo.

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With Love, RHC ❤️