One crisp fall day in a northwest suburb of Chicago, Mexican, Salvadoran, Guatemalan, and Honduran Guadalupanas/os gathered in the gymnasium-cum-sanctuary at the Second Tepeyac of North America—a sanctioned replica of the hill of Tepeyac in Mexico City. The Second Tepeyac is not visible from the street. Not far from the Des Plaines River, it is surrounded by acres of landscaped trees and foliage; occasional clusters of buildings that constitute Maryville Academy divert attention from the open-air shrine. Keeper of a thousand souls, the All Saints Cemetery, located across the street from Maryville, lends silence and tranquillity to the edges...

The uphill march from Tepejí del Río to Tepotzotlán was almost unbearable. Listening to the rhythm of marching feet and the hypnotic murmur of praying women, I walked with my head down and my hands behind my back. I would often fall into a state of meditation where I felt light and aware. Other times I would respond reflexively to the call and response of the rosary: “Santa María Madre de Dios, ruegue Señora por nosotros los pecadores, ahora y en la hora de nuestra muerte, Amén” (Holy Mary Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and in the...

With moist skin, rubbery knees and lungs filled withaire contaminado(polluted air), and nearing delirium from sleep deprivation, las Guadalupanas from Zitácuaro arrived at Lerma de Villada’s central plaza after walking nearly one hundred kilometers over the course of three days.¹ Literally crawling on our knees across a cobbled walkway, the cohort of 120 women reached the front doors of the church. Waiting solemnly, a priest, flanked by two altar boys, blessed us and then proclaimed, “You are all sinners.” “This pilgrimage,” he continued, “is not sufficient, nor is it significant if you do not receive the sacraments. ....

On July 3, 2001, a woman originally from Guanajuato, Mexico, who may or may not be accounted for by census data, stood on a street in Rogers Park—a multiethnic urban area on Chicago’s Far North Side. This is the only part of the narrative that remains consistent across gender, sexuality, race, class, or citizenship status. Some neighborhood Guadalupanos believe that she was waiting on the corner of Rogers and Honere behind Pace Bus Stop #290 with her young daughter, Guadalupe, when she heard her name called. Others report she felt a tap on the shoulder, which alerted her to...