Cisneros peppers her work with allusions to characters out of myths and legends: gory Catholic martyrs, the figures of the Spanish Conquest of Mexico, and beloved Aztec and Mayan heroes and heroines. This makes her work more interesting and colorful, and also tells the world about her culture. In her article contesting that periwinkle is a color historic to the Mexican culture (see "Scarlet Woman, Violet House"), Cisneros writes of her people:

We are a people sin documentos. We don't have papers.

Our books were burned in the conquest, and ever since, we

have learned to keep quiet, to keep our history to ourselves, to

keep it alive generation to generation by word of mouth, perhaps

because we feared it would be taken away from us again.

("Color")

Yet Cisneros aims to make this history public, and does so by inserting tantalizing hints of it in her work. Although the Virgin Mary and other saints may seem part of the Western culture, the Mexican and Mexican American Catholics latch on to these. Mixing holy figures’ stories with mysticism, magic, and superstition, these devotees reincarnate ancient figures of inspiration to fit their own lives.

Cisneros’ work constantly refers to the Virgin Mary of Guadalupe. The culture worships this holy woman devotedly as they develop her into whatever figure of inspiration they need. Although a schoolgirl groans about a lecture called "The Blessed Virgin: Role Model for Today’s Young Woman," (Creek, 38), women and men of all ages find the Virgin a model of strength and power. Witches, for example, sacrifice hummingbirds to her as part of their spells. Struggling families believe she can make pay checks come and bills disappear. Grizzled grandmothers enduring hard lives take comfort in Guadalupe’s silent suffering, but one of their young relatives sees her as an all-powerful embodiment of all the Aztec goddesses—and all the gods and miracles the world has ever known.

How did the Mexicans fall in love with the Virgin Mary? The Christian Research Institute states that she appeared to a Indian convert to Catholicism in December 1531. Juan Diego, a poor, elderly man, saw a vision of a beautiful woman clothed in light. She identified herself as the Virgin Mary; she told Diego to tell the local bishop to build her a sanctuary to show "her motherly love and compassion for the people." Not surprisingly, the bishop dismissed Diego’s reports. The lady reappeared to Diego, however, and performed a miracle—a bush of red roses appear in the midst of the winter snow. The Virgin told Diego to gather them in his cloak and bring them to the bishop as proof of her appearance. Diego hurried to the bishop and opened his cloak—which bore a wondrous image of the Virgin. Amazed, the bishop started construction of a church.

According to Diego, the Virgin instructed the people to call her "Guadalupe." The Guadalupe: Patroness of the Americas web site states this is a possible rendering of the Aztec name Coatlaxopeuh (pronounced "cuatlasupe"), meaning "she who has dominion over serpents." Catholics believe this refers to how Guadalupe helped Christianity triumph over the serpents of Aztec paganism—by proving to the Mexicans that she and her God not only existed, but cared about the people by appearing to them.

As shown in Cisneros’ poems and stories, the Mexicans have changed and expanded upon the legend of the Virgin of Guadalupe; (this has increased their devotion towards her). The Catholic authorities in Rome have never officially confirmed the "miracle" of Guadalupe, or the effectiveness of praying to her. Yet, seeing her importance to the Latin American cultures, Pius X declared her the "Patroness of the Americas" in 1910, Thirty-five years later, Pius XII described her as "Queen of Mexico and the Empress of the Americas." In 1979, Pope John Paul remarked, "Someone recently told me that 96 out of 100 Mexicans are Catholic but 100 out of 100 are Guadalupeans."

Cisneros often uses the eyes of a Saint Lucy as metaphors or similies. According to John Raymond, Lucy was a beautiful, rich heiress in 3rd century Rome. She converted to Christianity, vowing to remain chaste her whole life and give all her money to the poor. This pleased her mother but not her fiance, who wanted Lucy for her beauty and her sizable dowry. Although Lucy refused to marry this young man, the legend described by Laura Ehrisman states that she found a way to show her selfless care for him. Since he had often admired her most lovely eyes, Lucy tore her eyes out of their sockets and sent them to him on a platter. This, however, did not mollify her fiance. Vengefully he denounced Lucy as a Christian to the emperor Diocletian, notorious for his persecution of Christians. Diocletian sentenced her to a life of prostitution, but the guards found they could not move her; he ordered the guards to burn her, but God sent rain to extinguish the flames. Finally, the guards killed her by slitting her throat. (Raymond)

Due to the loss of her eyes, Lucy has become the patron saint of the blind. Cisneros, however, uses elements of Lucy’s story to describe the feelings of those whose love interests deny them affection. In the story "Eyes of Zapata," the great general Emiliano Zapata becomes engaged to the main character, Ines. During the course of the battles he fights, he romances and marries numerous other women. Zapata returns to Ines’ home several times, but soon it becomes obvious that he has abandoned her—leaving her with only a promise of affection and a profound memory of his haunting eyes.

Clemencia of the story "Never Marry a Mexican" tells us how her married lover Drew admires her eyes. "Your eyes are beautiful, you said. You said they were the darkest eyes you’d ever seen and kissed each one as if they were capable of miracles." When Drew abandons her, Clemencia want to give him her eyes if she cannot give him her love—as Lucy did for her suitor. As Clemencia recalls: "After you left, I wanted to scoop [my eyes] out with a spoon, place them on a plate under these blue blue skies, food for the blackbirds." (Creek, 75)

In the poem "Pumpkin Eater," the female speaker becomes the one denying love. At first glance, the line "I’m as free for the taking/as the eyes of Saint Lucy" seems to imply that the speaker openly and selflessly shares her love—a "loose woman," as the title of the collection of poems tell us. But this poem is full of irony. The speaker coyly asserts:

I’m no trouble.

Honest to God I’m not.

I’m not

the kind of woman

who telephones in the middle of the night

--who told you that—

splitting the night like a machete…

I’m not

the she who slings words bigger than rocks,

sharper than Houdini knives…

I’m no hysteric,

terrorist,

emotional anarchist.

(Loose, 37)

This contradicts the speakers of all the other poems in this collection—troublemaking women who brag about their big mouth, and gleefully describe nights of "mobs with machetes" and "emotions running amok." By referring to Lucy’s eyes, we realize that the speaker actually scoffs, "I’d rather rip my eyes out than give any of my love to you."

Cisneros introduces her readers to the great civilizations of ancient Mexico by alluding to their myths and legends in her work. For example, the artist Lupe of "Bien Pretty" discovers love while working on a painting of the legend of the tragic Aztec lovers Popocatepetl and Ixtaccihuatl. Speakers of the poems "Your Name is Mine" and "Arturito the Amazing Baby Olmec Who Is Mine by Way of Water" show their love and admiration for people in their lives by comparing them to Mayans and Olmecs. Chaq Uxmal Paloquin of "One Holy Night" receives admiration from a young girl by claiming to be a Mayan prince; his invented name derives from a Mayan leopard god and city.

Comparisons to one figure of Indian legend, however, are anything but complimentary. Malinche, the mistress of the conquistador Hernan Cortes, represents betrayal of her people to many members of the Mexican culture. Born in 1505, Malinche (or "Malinalli") was a beautiful, intelligent Maya princess. Her mother sold her into slavery to secure her father’s inheritance for her younger half-brother. The slave traders sold Malinche to the court of the lord of another Mexican province, where Malinche distinguished herself from other slaves by her intelligence, especially her facility with languages. (Richart)

When the Spanish arrived in 1519, the nobles gave Malinche to the invaders’ leader, Cortes, as a mistress. Soon Cortes found that Malinche was a useful tool in conquering the natives—she spoke the dialects of the land and served as translator. Malinche fell in love with Cortes and became an ambassador for his cause—she convinced native tribes to join the Spanish in attacking the Aztecs, saved Cortes and his men from committing many cultural faux pas. Malinche lulled the Aztec leader Moctezuma into complacency while the Spanish prepared to attack and conquer his kingdom; she encouraged reluctant natives to burn down sacred temples and build Christian ones in their places.

Some Chicanos say that Cortes could not have conquered Mexico without Malinche, and therefore blame her for the conquest. Richart notes that they have created the term Malinchismo to refer to "opening Mexico to outsiders, rendering Indian stock "impure" and sullying the culture." According to Gonzalez, however, others say Malinche strived for the good of her culture; she considering submission to the Spaniards the only way her people could survive.

Although Malinche had faithfully loved and served Cortes—even bearing him a son—Cortes found he had little use for her after the conquest. He had a wife back in Spain, after all. So Cortes gave Malinche a plot of land and married her off to one of his officers. (Richart) Still, Malinche had been the "most powerful woman in Mexico," as Helen Gordon argues, not only Cortes’ mistress but his ally and confidante.

We see a parallel between the story of Malinche and Cortes in the story "Never Marry A Mexican," in which the young Latina woman Clemencia tells about her lover, a married white man. Clemencia muses about the good old days: "Drew, remember when you used to call me your Malinalli? It was a joke, a private game between us, because you looked like a Cortez with that beard of yours. My skin dark against yours…My Malinalli, Malinche, my courtesan, you said…I could love myself and think myself worth loving." (Creek, 74) Yet Drew abruptly cuts off their relationship "for [Clemencia’s] own good. A good sport. A young girl like me. Hadn’t I understood…responsibilities. Besides, he could never marry me." (80)

Like Malinche, Clemencia is a young Mexican woman seduced by a handsome, powerful, married white man. She forsakes her own culture by refusing to consider Latinos as love interests, scoffing that "they’re not men." (69) Like Cortes, Drew uses Clemencia for pleasure, then abandons her. If Malinche was truly born in 1505, she was only 14 years old when she became Cortes’ mistress. Although not quite as young, Clemencia shares Malinche’s likely naivete—although both are intelligent and experienced for their ages, they innocently think that their lovers will care for them forever.

Chayo of the story "Little Miracles, Kept Promises" weathers insulting comparisons to Malinche, showing that she succeeds in the very ways that her ancestress failed. When she refuses to worship the Virgin of Guadalupe as a figure of silent suffering, and voices her desire to continue her studies at an American university, her family resists. "Heretic. Atheist. Malinchista," they spit. (Creek, 127) "Is that what they teach you at the university?…Miss Thinks-She’s-Too-Good-for-Us. Acting like a bolilla, a white girl. Malinche." (128) Chayo wants the oppurtunities of the white people, but she also wants to remain part of the Mexican culture—and she achieves both these goals. She continues her studies, despite the misgivings of her family, and creates a new Virgin of Guadalupe: one who embodies European ideals, Aztec goddesses, and the wisdom of Buddha, Brahma, and the Tao. Chayo, unlike Malinche, triumphs by embracing all the varied and wonderful cultures she has encountered without betraying her own culture.

Is Cisneros a Malinchista for sullying the Mexican/Mexican-American culture—by translating it for white audiences? Some parts of her life recall the legend of her infamous ancestress. As a young girl, Cisneros often felt like her parents passed her over in favor of her brothers, reminiscent of Malinche’s plight as a young girl. Like Chayo who found herself compared to Malinche, Cisneros ventured into the stereotypically "white" world of college and professionalism. Cisneros, like Maliche, has relied on her facility with written language to distinguish herself in a society dominated by men; she has proved herself a powerful woman instead of something used just for love and sex.

Yet her non-Latino readers do not read her books to find the weak points of her culture, and therefore assimilate it, as the Spanish conquistadores often tried to do. Instead, her books show non-Latinos the richness of her culture, and encourages them to respect it.