Migdalia Santa, in Ecuadoran attire, waits for the march by Latinas - women of Latin American ancestry - at Fifth and Spring Garden Streets. (Ron Cortes / Inquirer Staff Photographer)

They are Latino women, and they have decided the time has come to start showing political muscle.

About 2,000 from across the region marched three miles through some of North Philadelphia's poorest Latino neighborhoods yesterday to show the world there is strength in numbers -- and these women are getting organized.

The Latino Women's March (La Marcha de la Mujer Latina) followed the example of other minority groups who have staged similar events in recent years. It was believed to be the first all-Latina march through any East Coast city.

Their message was clear: Pay attention to us.

"Historically, we've never had Latinas represent communities," said grand marshal Alma Riojas Esparza, 57, executive director of Federally Employed Women in Washington, D.C., and head of a Hispanic war veterans group.

"Latinas have been responsible for the family," Esparza said. "Why not have Latinas represent themselves? We've depended on other people to do it.

"We're finally getting smart about that," she said, smiling.

The march and daylong festival at Huntingdon and American Streets was organized by, among others, Marta Sierra, who is deputy executive director of Associacion de Puertoriquenos en Marcha, a social services and economic development corporation in North Philadelphia.

The group honored Latinas with awards and invited speakers from across the country to discuss the problems of low wages, access to health care and political activism.

Meanwhile, Latino mothers, wives, daughters and neighbors walked through one of Philadelphia's most decidedly Hispanic neighborhoods, braving stifling heat for the rare opportunity to speak out as a group.

"I think unity makes us a stronger force," said Colombian-born Margarita Caicedo, 38, of Reading. She was there with her sister-in-law, Stella Caicedo, 46, who runs a small tortilla factory in Reading. Standing in the shade of a corner bar near Fifth and Berks Street yesterday, they fiddled with little paper flags -- neither Colombian. Margarita's was Spanish and Stella's Nicaraguan.

The march also provided an opportunity to discuss the forthcoming national census -- an issue of great importance to the Latino community.

Maritza Padilla, 43, of Andorra, is a recruiter for the U.S. Census Bureau. Holding a vinyl banner while marching, Padilla explained that it is essential for Hispanic residents to respond to census questionnaires next year.

The Latino community in Philadelphia was undercounted by at least 5 percent in 1990, Padilla said, in part because residents were reluctant to complete the forms (they were afraid to disclose personal information) and that others simply didn't understand what to do.

The population count, conducted every 10 years, determines the amount of federal aid that goes to cities and states, as well as the number of elected officials allowed to represent a given area.

"If we don't get the [ Hispanic ] people counted," said Padilla, herself Puerto Rican, "we're not going to have money for schools, transportation and health. We have to get people this message."

Maria LaBoy, 48, of Vineland, knows plenty about the state of education in Hispanic communities. Born in Puerto Rico, the former teacher has been head of instruction for Vineland public schools. Vineland has a significant Hispanic population.

LaBoy has turned her passion toward politics. She is a Democratic candidate in New Jersey's First Legislative District, campaigning this fall with another woman to try to oust two white Republican Assemblymen: Nick Asselta and Jack Gibson.

LaBoy is the first Hispanic person -- male or female -- to run for state legislative office in her district.

"Women in general have not been given their total value," LaBoy said while walking past vacant lots and towering warehouses along Fifth Street. "And Latino women are twice minorities."

For starters, she said, "We have to start empowering our children."

That means giving preschoolers, adolescents and beleaguered young mothers a sense of pride, hope and willpower, even if they live in poor communities where economic and educational opportunities are sparse, marchers said.

"I've worked for the welfare office for 21 years, and they feel they're already beaten," said LaBoy's sister, Maria Perez, 53, of Vineland. She is a bilingual supervisor for Cumberland County's Board of Social Services.

"Politicians don't look at us," said Perez.

Mayra Arroyo, 30, of Vineland, is starting by preaching hard to her 11-year-old daughter, Charissa. She made sure Charissa marched right alongside her yesterday.

Arroyo went from being a teen mother to a full-fledged social worker with a full-time job in Pennsauken. She managed to earn a bachelor's degree while raising her child alone.

"I want my daughter to see that I didn't give up," Arroyo said.