From My FYP to Adidas Huaraches — Seeing Willie Chavarria Differently

So, I really didn’t think I’d be writing about Willie again… mostly because I didn’t even know who he was until his Paris fashion show came across my FYP a few weeks ago. I’m not into fashion like that — being poor and plus size will do that to you. But the show caught me off guard in a good way. The Chicano culture on that runway made me pause. I saw pieces of my own childhood — the colors, the attitude, the pride. I wrote about it because that’s what I do: I write what I feel in the moment. And at the time, it felt worth celebrating.

But here’s the thing about me — I have justice sensitivity. And this? Yeah… this had my brain tingling. I guess there’s growth here too, because accountability isn’t just about celebrating the wins. It’s also about sitting in the disappointment. It’s about being willing to revisit something you once praised and admitting that, through a new lens, it doesn’t land the same.

So, imagine my surprise when this week, Willie popped up on my FYP again. Different context. Different feeling. This time it was about his Adidas huarache collab. And my first reaction was just… no. Seriously — NO. The people of Oaxaca are outraged, and I hear them. These aren’t just shoes. Huaraches are history. They’re craft. They’re ancestry. Generations have made them by hand, in the same places their great-grandparents did. And now there’s a big corporate sneaker version being sold — not made in Oaxaca, not even made in Mexico. Made in China.

I don’t see that as an accident. There are no “oops” moments in collabs between a designer and a global brand like Adidas. These things are planned down to the stitch. Which means there was a choice — a deliberate choice — not to work with the artisans who actually carry this tradition.

For Oaxaca, this isn’t representation. It’s straight-up theft with a marketing budget. And here’s where it gets tricky — and where I’ve been sitting with my own feelings. Chicano and Mexican American culture isn’t identical to Mexican culture. There’s overlap, yes, but the lived experiences are different. For some Chicanos, Willie’s work is representation. For many Mexicans, especially in Oaxaca, it’s erasure. And both can be true at the same time. That’s what intersectionality is — understanding that identities, histories, and systems overlap, and sometimes collide.

Seeing Willie through this lens makes me think about all the times I’ve had to unlearn the idea that sharing a background with someone automatically means they share your values. That’s not always the case. I still remember how I felt watching that Paris show — the pride, the recognition. I’m not erasing that. But I’m also not ignoring what’s right in front of me now. This Adidas collab doesn’t honor Oaxaca’s artisans. It doesn’t sustain their communities. It doesn’t even acknowledge them.

This is why I don’t instantly stan celebrities or designers just because they look like me or speak to parts of my culture. I wrote what I felt then, and I’m writing what I feel now. Both are true. And right now? I stand with Oaxaca.

This is why I keep writing. Because the lens changes. The feelings shift. And that’s not weakness — that’s growth.

Photo by Alice Kotlyarenko on Unsplash.