Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla

Hello! My name is Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla, but many people in Mexico remember me as the Father of the Nation. My story begins on May 8th, 1753, when I was born on a large farm called a hacienda in a place called New Spain, which you now know as Mexico. As a boy, I loved to learn. I read every book I could find and learned many languages, including Latin, French, and some of the languages of the Indigenous peoples who lived near me. My friends and teachers at school even gave me a nickname, 'El Zorro,' which means 'The Fox,' because they thought I was clever. In 1778, I followed my heart and became a Catholic priest.

I eventually became the priest in a small town called Dolores. I loved my work, but I saw many things that made me sad. The rulers from Spain treated the people of New Spain unfairly, especially the Indigenous and mestizo people, who had mixed ancestry. I believed everyone deserved a better life. So, I did more than just give sermons. I wanted to help people help themselves. I taught them how to grow grapes and olives, which were crops the Spanish rulers had forbidden them to grow. I also taught them how to make pottery and leather goods so they could start their own businesses and earn more money for their families.

Seeing so much injustice, I knew something had to change. I joined a secret group of friends, including a brave army captain named Ignacio Allende, who also dreamed of a free Mexico. We planned to break away from Spain's control. But in 1810, our secret plans were discovered! We had to act fast. In the early morning of September 16th, 1810, I ran to my church and rang the bells as loud as I could. The townspeople came running to see what was happening. I stood before them and gave a passionate speech, asking them to join me in a fight for freedom and justice. This moment is now famous in Mexico and is called the 'Grito de Dolores,' or the 'Cry of Dolores.'

That day, the Mexican War of Independence began. Thousands of people—farmers, miners, and workers—grabbed whatever tools they could find and joined my army. We were not trained soldiers, but we were filled with hope. We marched from town to town, and our army grew bigger and bigger. We won some important early battles, like the capture of the city of Guanajuato. But fighting against the powerful and well-trained Spanish army was very difficult. Our journey was filled with both great victories and heartbreaking losses.

My fight for freedom was dangerous, and in 1811, I was captured by Spanish soldiers. I lived to be 58 years old. Even though I was no longer there to lead the fight, the spark I had lit with the 'Grito de Dolores' had grown into a fire that could not be put out. The people continued to fight for ten more years until Mexico finally won its independence in 1821. Today, I am honored as a national hero. Every year on the night of September 15th, the President of Mexico rings a bell and gives the 'Grito' to remember the moment our journey to freedom began. I am so proud that my dream of a free Mexico came true.