They once were hawked on street corners, displayed like the finest artwork with their images of Aztec warriors, Virgin Marys, lions, pandas and unicorns.
Laura Genao saw them growing up but never pictured herself owning one.
"Too tacky," she thought.
Years later, her mother slyly left one on her couch: a blanket with a giant tiger woven in shades of gray, black and white.
It was then Genao learned what most Latinos in Los Angeles come to understand as children: Love it or hate it, chances are yo