Sisters in Style: How an All-Women’s Lowrider Club is Reviving Culture in Silicon Valley
I take great pride in my roots in Sunnyvale, where I’ve spent most of my life. My family’s journey began with my grandparents, Mexican immigrants who settled in Texas during the late 1950s and early 1960s. My mother was born there in 1963, and shortly after, my grandfather moved to Sunnyvale for work at a cannery. He then sent for my grandmother, mother, and aunt Juanita, and I grew up in their care after I was born.
My introduction to lowriders stemmed from my mom’s close relationship with her cousin Gustavo, who owned a 1964 Impala and founded the Midnite Classics car club. Lowriding became a family affair; it was ingrained in our culture.
On her quinceañera, my mom received a brand-new 1977 Monte Carlo, specially ordered by my grandparents with a custom paint job, swivel bucket seats, and a sunroof. But my mom had other plans. She transformed it into a lowrider with Truespoke rims and hydraulics, lifting it to her specifications.
Soon after, I arrived, followed by my brother and sister, each born a year apart. My mom, a single mother who divorced early, struggled financially. Yet, we found joy in cruising around in her car, three little ones—3, 4, and 5 years old—playing with the switches. Those moments were precious, as we created family memories in that car, which meant the world to us when we had little else.
We often ventured down to San Jose, where lowrider events flourished. Many don’t recognize San Jose as the lowrider capital, but it holds that title proudly. Lowrider Magazine, initially published by Sonny Madrid, a San Jose State University student, was our version of social media back then. It showcased the cars and drivers of our community, which I cherished as I grew up.
My love for cars blossomed early, fueled by my cousin’s mini truck with hydraulics that he used to pick me up from high school. I fondly remember cruising El Camino in Santa Clara, where my first taste of trouble came when I was pulled over while driving my mom’s car at just 12 years old for having my high beams on.
As teenagers, my friends and I discovered a ’65 Impala for sale on Fair Oaks in Sunnyvale. I fell head over heels for it. Although it needed some work, it was all original with a cameo beige exterior and fawn interior, despite its wear and tear. My sister encouraged me to test-drive it, and with her support, I bought it. I’ve cherished that car for over 21 years.
That ’65 Impala is my pride and joy, and anyone who knows me recognizes its significance. My sister has owned several lowriders, but this one has always been special to me. When I introduced it to my mom, she was ecstatic.
In those days, seeing women driving lowriders was rare. Many assumed our cars belonged to our boyfriends or fathers. My mom was different; she kept a jumpsuit in her car, ready to fix it when needed. Our family embraced the lowriding lifestyle in a unique way, learning about cars not from male role models, but from our mom.
My mom passed away in 2019, and lowriding has since become even more meaningful to me. It serves as a constant reminder of her. She instilled in us the values of hard work and respect. While she was breaking barriers—returning to college, working full-time, and raising three kids as a single mother—my grandparents were running a bar they bought after retirement, creating a life for themselves in Sunnyvale.
For nine years, I kept my ’65 stock. After my brother Junior drove it during a Cinco de Mayo cruise and blew the rings, I rebuilt the motor and revamped the interior and paint, choosing purple as a tribute to my mom. A decade ago, I joined my first car club, Aztec Creations, led by a cousin. I learned the ropes but found it didn’t quite align with my passion for family, so I returned to being a solo rider.
Eventually, I longed for the camaraderie of a car club and reached out to a friend in the Str8 Riders. I became the club’s first lady, aiming to elevate it through community engagement and events. My mom had taught me the importance of giving back, having received support from Sunnyvale Community Services during tough times. Later, she would donate to help others in need.
Although I tried to lead the club in a direction aligned with my mom’s values, it ultimately felt like a poor fit. I then helped establish the United Lowrider Council of San Jose in 2018, witnessing firsthand how male-dominated the scene still was. Thankfully, more women have become involved, and the council has become more inclusive.
Dreaming of an all-female car club, my sister, niece, and friends finally took the plunge. We wanted a name that signified our ownership, and we settled on “Dueñas,” which means “owners” in Spanish. When I shared the news with my mom, she was overjoyed. I can still picture her cheering us on as we prepped our cars for events.
Initially, people paid little attention to us, but as we cruised together, excitement grew. The lowrider community has shown us incredible support, proving that women can be active participants rather than mere passenger princesses.
In my youth, Sunnyvale had a vibrant classic car scene. Over time, however, gentrification took hold, driven by the tech boom, making it difficult for families to hold onto their cars and homes. Despite this, San Jose’s lowriding culture continued to thrive, drawing in more enthusiasts, particularly women. Today, I see many women embracing this lifestyle, a shift that reflects broader societal changes, with more women excelling in careers beyond traditional roles.
Technology has also transformed the lowriding community, connecting enthusiasts worldwide through social media. I recently saw a video of two sisters in Texas building their own car—truly inspiring. When I work on my car, I rely on family and online resources, learning new skills as I go. Events sponsored by tech companies, like one hosted by Ricardo Cortez, have further enriched our community.
Although we sold my childhood home, the new owners rent it out as an Airbnb for $800 a night. It’s disheartening to see how much the neighborhood has changed. What used to be accessible for families is now out of reach, making it harder to build the lives we once had.
As a Modesto resident, I miss my Sunnyvale roots. The disparity between the wealthy and the less fortunate has only widened. For example, we recently organized a bake sale to fundraise for a local high school football team, highlighting the lack of resources available to kids today.
While I wish I could have stayed in Sunnyvale with my family and friends, the high cost of living forced me to move. In Modesto, some have asked if I’d start a Dueñas chapter here. We prefer to keep our group small, focusing on quality connections with close friends and family who share our passion for lowriding.
With our club’s fifth anniversary approaching, we’ve even started a lowrider bike club. Our daughters wanted to join in, sharing our love for cruising and building camaraderie just as we did with our moms, aunts, and older sisters. We aim to provide them with something to cherish and be proud of, continuing the legacy of lowriding and community that my mom instilled in me.
