But back then, Pasadena offered little else that seemed familiar. The stores weren't stocked with the spices needed to make beef barbacoa or fish dishes from her native coast. She missed the festivals at which young men performed La Danza de Diablos, a traditional "dance of the devils" in which participants wear masks with long beards and horns.
Costa Chicans are steeped in an Afro-Mexican culture that is evident in dance, food and music -- they listen to cumbia, not mariachi. Acevedo longed for that culture and the sense of closeness that is common in the coastal pueblos where families are large and everyone seems to know everyone else.
Early on, the Acevedo home became a magnet for the migration. Acevedo and her husband would often wake up to calls in the middle of the night: Eight to 10 relatives and friends had crossed the border and were waiting to be picked up, sometimes as far away as Phoenix.
Eventually, Acevedo, who has seven brothers and sisters living nearby, came to own a Pasadena party and gift store selling pinatas and other accessories, renting tables and chairs and video-taping events. Her sister Yolanda, a former Mexico City police officer, is a seamstress who makes gowns for first Communions and quinceaneras, dresses that can cost as much as $500. One of their brothers is the store's videographer.
"My dream was that we would all have a chance to make it," Roberta Acevedo said. "Now I feel my dream has come true."
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Despite a shared racial heritage, Afro-Mexicans in Southern California have little interaction with African Americans, the relationships hindered by religious, language and cultural differences. And cultural bonds with other Latinos are sometimes stymied by regional and racial preferences.
"I have African American friends who say, 'You're not Mexicans. I saw you with your dad and he's a black man,' " said Soledad Silver, 16, a junior at John Muir High School in Pasadena. "I say, 'Yeah, he's a black man, but he's also Mexican.' "
In Santa Ana, Yismar Toribio's only knowledge of his parents' birthplace comes from the stories he's heard over the years. San Nicolas and Montecillos are beautiful towns full of tradition, places where you don't stand out if you're black and Mexican -- unlike Santa Ana, where Yismar attends school in a district that is 94% Latino and less than 1% African American.
Things would be better if his school had more blacks, said the 15-year-old freshman with skin the color of rich dark chocolate.
