Translate

Showing posts with label anti-Latino discrimination. Show all posts
Showing posts with label anti-Latino discrimination. Show all posts

Wednesday, October 07, 2026

How the shooting death of a Houston father is igniting Latino politics in Texas, by Natasha Korecki, October 4, 2026

Friends:

I encourage you to take the time to read this deeply tragic account of the killing of Lorenzo Salgado Araujo, a Houston father and construction worker who was fatally shot by an ICE agent while on his way to a job site. The circumstances of his death remain contested, and his family and community have demanded transparency, an independent investigation, and accountability. 

What is also striking, however, is the political awakening taking shape around this tragedy: grief and outrage are being transformed into public protest, civic engagement, and demands for change. At a moment when immigration enforcement has become central to the Trump administration’s governing agenda, this kind of community mobilization will, no doubt, carry enormous implications for the Midterm election and for the broader electoral and democratic response to the violence and utter lack of accountability of the U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) and the Trump administration.

Vote, vote, vote is all I can say. 

Su voto es su voz!

Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D.


How the shooting death of a Houston father is igniting Latino politics in Texas

Story by Natasha Korecki | October 4, 2026

Lorenzo Salgado Araujo was fatally shot on his way to work by an ICE officer, after authorities say Salgado Araujo used his vehicle as a weapon. An outraged community is demanding justice — and change.

A rally in July to protest the killing of Lorenzo Salgado Araujo by an Immigration and Customs Enforcement officer in Houston. (Mark Felix / AFP via Getty)© Mark Felix

HOUSTON — As the sun set on a late September evening, a voice rose over the din of traffic at the roadside memorial for Lorenzo Salgado Araujo, the 52-year-old husband and father fatally shot here by immigration authorities three months ago.

Sitting on barbershop steps, Berta Lopez, a nearby resident, alternately sang, recited prayers and cried for a man she never met.

“It was unjust — he was killed unjustly! The family is deeply hurt, his wife, his children. They are like family to us. And why don’t they show the people who did the killing? Why don’t they show them? Why don’t they release the names of the people who killed Lorenzo? Why don’t they expose them?” she said in Spanish.

In tears, Lopez said that after more than a year of intensive operations by Immigration and Customs Enforcement, Salgado Araujo’s killing was a clarifying moment. The government, she said, saw those who weren’t U.S. citizens as less than nothing. She was tired of it.

“Just because we’re Hispanic, shouldn’t we hold our heads high? No, God doesn’t want us hanging our heads in shame. He wants all of us, his children, to hold our heads up high,” Lopez said. “God doesn’t care about papers.”

Lopez’s hurt and anger were reflected in NBC News interviews with more than three dozen Houston-area Latinos, elected officials, activists and political strategists. They reveal a distraught community whose members feel degraded by the messages they hear out of Washington, D.C., during President Donald Trump’s second term. They said they have been terrorized by the constant stories of those detained, many wrongly, and left to languish. They were aghast that the government was sending immigrants to countries they had never heard of.

Many said Salgado Araujo’s shooting death crystallized their feelings of powerlessness. Most Latinos were better versed in the details of the incident than in the names and backgrounds of those running for some of the highest-profile offices in their state.

Their refrains were in the same vein: That could have been my dad, my brother, my uncle, my son — or me.

A rally in Houston's Hidalgo Park in July. Many said Salgado Araujo’s shooting death crystallized their feelings of powerlessness. (Mark Felix / AFP via Getty Images file)
© Mark Felix

“They’re being unfair. They’ve lied about a lot of things. They’re killing innocent people, breaking families apart. It’s just not right. They have no sympathy for other people,” said Julio Roa, a Houston resident who lamented what he was seeing happen in his state. “I come from Mexican parents. I’m born a U.S. citizen, but I live it day by day when they’re scared to go to the corner store.”

It all illustrates a political environment in which Republicans and Trump are bleeding support from Latinos. A new NBC News/Telemundo survey of 800 registered Latino voters nationally showed that fully 69% disapproved of the job Trump was doing as president, and 54% said they intended their midterm vote to be a signal of opposition to the president. The survey, carried out Sept. 21-28, had a margin of error of plus or minus 3.5 percentage points.

Notably, immigration and border security did not score high among priorities in the survey, with 6% of Latino voters calling it a top issue. But it has hit a nerve: 67% of potential Latino voters said Trump’s immigration enforcement had gone too far.

In an earlier NBC5 Dallas/Telemundo Station Group poll of Texas Latinos, respondents ranked immigration and border questions as the second-highest priority behind economic factors. That survey showed a sizable swing. In 2024, 55% of Texas Latinos supported Trump, according to exit polls, but recent surveys show statewide Democrats garnering at least 55% of the Latino vote.

That’s part of the reason Texas’ Senate race between Democrat James Talarico and Republican Ken Paxton has become a battleground contest and why Gov. Greg Abbott, a Republican, is facing perhaps his toughest-ever general election challenge, from Democrat Gina Hinojosa.

One man who once held a deep allegiance to Trump said he could not explain the regret he felt.

“I’m guilty as charged. I voted for Trump. But I never thought it was gonna happen the way that this happened,” said Albert Riseño, a plumber who works in the Houston area. Riseño is a three-time Trump voter. He described a fear that has settled over the Latino community since Trump’s second term in office.

“There’s no words to describe what’s going on,” he said. “Everybody’s scared.”

Posters, signs, flowers and other items memorialize Lorenzo Salgado 
Araujo in Houston.(Natasha Korecki / NBC News)© Natasha Korecki


Pushing back

Lorenzo Salgado Araujo woke before dawn on a hot Houston morning on July 7, as he did most days. He had lived in the U.S. for decades without legal status but was in the process of getting a work permit. He had no criminal record.

He picked up workers in his white van and was driving to a jobsite when he was pursued by immigration agents in unmarked vehicles. An officer shot him, according to authorities, after they say he used his vehicle to ram them. It’s a story contradicted by witnesses in the van, but it’s one immigration authorities have told before in explaining how a traffic pursuit turned deadly.

This time, though, the family wasn’t having it. Salgado Araujo’s eldest son stood before cameras and delivered an emotional testimonial to his father that went viral.

“He was a hardworking family man who never wanted his name to be known by anyone outside of his family,” Ronaldo Salgado said at a news conference days after his father’s shooting, as his brother held up a photo of their father.

Ronaldo Salgado stressed that the story of his dad ramming government vehicles could not be true. Their father had always taught his kids that if law enforcement attempted to pull them over, they were to pull off the road, hand over their license and registration and act respectfully.

In the end, authorities admitted Salgado Araujo was not the intended target of the operation.

In an interview with NBC News, Ronaldo Salgado said as immigration arrests became more prevalent in 2025, they talked to their father about the procedure if he had an encounter, including calling his family, and that they’d contact their attorneys.

“Just remember, don’t sign anything. Call us,” Ronaldo Salgado said he told his father.

Sitting at Las Perras Cafe in Houston, where a makeshift altar to his father sits in the corner, Ronaldo Salgado recited the names of those who had been killed by immigration officers, including Renee Good, Alex Pretti and Ruben Ray Martinez, saying the country is not now safe because of their deaths.

“These are lives that are lost, and they need to be investigated, just like any other life lost. It needs to be investigated with the full cooperation of the agents involved and the agencies involved,” the son said.
Ronaldo Salgado at a makeshift altar to his father, Lorenzo Salgado 
Araujo, at Las Perras Cafe in Houston. (Natasha Korecki / NBC News)
© Natasha Korecki

“All of this isn’t making us any safer. How is going after my dad going to work making the city safer?” Ronaldo Salgado said. “Criminals don’t wake up at 5 in the morning to pick up their crew and go to do a day of backbreaking labor. You don’t.”

In an unusual move, federal officials made public an FBI search warrant to get inside Salgado Araujo’s van after his death. Then, federal officials released a stinging detail: The bureau sought entry to look at baggies with crystals that they said resembled meth.

When he heard that, Ronaldo Salgado said he couldn’t help but break into a little smile: “Ohhh, they messed up.”

He knew what it was. And it would only make things worse for federal authorities. It was a homemade electrolyte mixture, mainly of salt, that his father later mixed into Gatorade for himself and workers to combat the triple-digit Houston summer heat outside.

The U.S. attorney’s office later confirmed that the mix was in fact not methamphetamine, surprising few who knew Salgado Araujo.

Ronaldo Salgado felt it was an effort to sully his father’s reputation and dampen public outrage.

The implication just added to community anger, viewed as a thinly veiled attempt at smearing the man immigration authorities killed.

“It really shook the community,” said Jasmine Khadem González, an immigrant rights organizer with the Houston Democratic Socialists of America. “A lot of us who are Latino, we have somebody in our family: If it’s not our father then it’s our uncle who has a very similar job. … To see somebody like that be targeted for just being on his way to work or for the color of his skin or for the kind of truck that he’s driving — because it’s associated with Latino men — to see somebody like that be targeted for doing a very everyday thing. For just existing.”

In the NBC News/Telemundo poll, 31% of Latino voters say they or someone close to them started carrying identification over concerns about ICE enforcement, while 27% say they know someone who has been deported or detained by ICE in the last two years.

Amy Zachmeyer, the executive director of New Economy for Working Houston, a group that helped organize community vigils and demanded accountability and transparency in the probe, said the Salgado family’s high-profile pushback kept authorities in check.

“They’ve shown incredible strength to be able to really defend their father,” she said.

Zachmeyer grew emotional as she spoke about the sons. “They never let a narrative set in that he was anything but a loving father, a Houstonian, a Texan, a hard worker.”
Anger reshapes local politics

Adrian Garcia, a Harris County commissioner, said Latinos are “feeling a lot of attack and disrespect.” Over the last year, he’s worked to reach out to those who don’t vote often. From his view, people now are willing to walk across broken glass to send a message to the Trump administration.

“The low-propensity voters that I’ve been speaking to absolutely have a great intensity to vote in this election, and they specifically speak to ICE enforcement. A lot of young kids: ‘I’m voting for my mom. I’m voting for my dad.’ I hear that a lot,” Garcia said.

More Latino registered voters than ever — 72% — rated their interest in the upcoming election as 10 out of 10 in the NBC News/Telemundo poll.

Garcia described the greater impact that fear of immigration enforcement has had across the Texas economy.

“This is not what our community deserves, and it is also what is impacting the things that we care about the most, the business, the economy. They’re hurting the industry,” he said. “They’re hurting those who work hard and play by the rules.”

Jareli Barrera, who works as a server at the popular Cielito Cafe in Houston, said she has never been so tuned into an election. Today, she said she’s helping others, including co-workers, to register to vote.

She cannot stand seeing the level of fear in her community, including among those who are citizens but fear being separated from family or an aggressive encounter.

“Republicans are probably going to lose. It’s not going to be the greatest thing for them at the end of the day,” Barrera said. “Most of these immigrants are the ones that are making the U.S. successful. They’re doing the hard work. … If everyone’s deported, who’s gonna do the hard labor? Who’s gonna construct? Who’s going to do all this cleaning that they don’t want to do?”

Since 2025, local activist groups have tried to work with the city of Houston to better protect Latinos as they watched intense enforcement operations in cities like Minneapolis, Los Angeles and Chicago upend life for residents and lead to encounters with immigration authorities that turned violent or deadly.

Jennefer Canales-Pelaez, a Houston-based senior policy attorney and strategist with the Immigrant Legal Resource Center, said Salgado Araujo’s death was a “culmination of years of Texas entrenching itself, entangling itself with ICE” and “illustrated to them the fear, the levels of persecution of justice that immigrant communities have been living with in Texas for a very long time.”

Before Salgado Araujo’s death, Canales-Pelaez was among those who worked to deter cooperation between Houston police and federal police agencies and pushed for greater transparency into immigration operations. Abbott, the three-term governor and a staunch Trump ally who is up for re-election in November, threatened to block $200 million in grants to Houston and other major cities if they didn’t change local rules that directed police forces not to hold individuals they encounter for longer time periods to assist ICE. The cities, including Houston, reworded their ordinances.

Houston Mayor John Whitmire, a centrist Democrat, told The New York Times last October that he kept his head down as other city and state leaders in the country grew combative with the White House over immigration operations. Whitmire said his city had avoided “turmoil” that others faced.

Whitmire initially declared his hands were tied after the shooting; the Houston Police Department had no jurisdiction to conduct an independent investigation. After community uproar, the city changed course. Harris County District Attorney Sean Teare has now launched a probe, with the county government approving the $2.5 million request to fund it.

“It ignited this flame and really showed other people that aren’t necessarily living this experience or working in this line of work, ‘Oh, this got to us,’” Canales-Pelaez said. “When the mayor told us that we weren’t going to be another Minneapolis, we weren’t going to be a Los Angeles, well, now we are. Someone’s dead. That really has sparked this rage, this collective, righteous anger.”
A makeshift memorial for Salgado Araujo in Houston in July. Most Latinos 
were better versed in the details surrounding his death than in the names
and backgrounds of those running for some of the highest-profile offices
in their state. (Mark Felix / AFP via Getty Images file) © Mark Felix

Republican recalibration

Abbott, who has long taken a hard-line stance on immigration, was silent on the Salgado Araujo shooting for a week but then ended up backing an independent investigation.

“Immigration laws can be enforced, and stopping illegal immigration from coming across our border can be achieved, without shooting people,” Abbott said in mid-July.

Paxton, the Republican state attorney general locked in a tight race with Talarico for the Senate seat, met with the U.S. Hispanic Business Council last week and made supportive statements about an immigration program designed to help industries in need of workers.

Paxton has aggressively supported Trump’s immigration policies and in June boasted that his office had blocked public money to help pay for legal representation for immigrants facing deportation. Paxton had described the practice as “evil and wicked.”

Last week, Paxton had a softer tone on another aspect of immigration.

“Our birth population isn’t keeping up with demand, and so as long as we are doing this by the rule of law,” Paxton said, “I’m open to having help.”

Ronaldo Salgado doesn’t rail against Republicans or Trump. He has stressed that the quest to investigate exactly what went wrong in a deadly encounter with law enforcement “should not be a partisan issue.”

He also said those incensed by what they see should vote in November.

“Immigrants’ rights shouldn’t be a partisan issue, and I just urge faithfully to look for and to vote for candidates who honor and respect the lives and rights of immigrants,” he said. “Every single elected official right now has immigrants living in their districts, in their states, their neighborhoods, and it’s their job to protect them. And if they’re not willing to protect them, then people should elect someone else that will.”

This article was originally published on NBCNews.com

Sunday, July 06, 2025

Farce of July - "One Big Beautiful Bill" Is a Big Betrayal of Students and Families," by Enrique Murillo, Ph.D.

 Friends,

A must-read. Since we the playing field is not level, Trump's "One Big Beautiful Bill"—that I term, "Trump’s Monstrous Disaster Bill," will make things worse.

Black, Brown, and Indigenous folks need to be prepared as the worst is yet to come, beginning with the implementation of this bill. 

What do you think? I'm super concerned.

-Angela


Farce of July - "One Big Beautiful Bill" Is a Big Betrayal of Students and Families
by 
Enrique Murillo, Ph.D.
As millions prepare to celebrate USA's 249th birthday this Fourth of July, families across the country are asking: What are we celebrating when our children’s futures are being stolen in plain sight?
With the narrow passage of H.R. 1 — misleadingly named the “One Big Beautiful Bill” — Congress has launched the most aggressive assault on education, economic mobility, and family well-being in modern U.S. history. The president is expected to sign it on Independence Day.
But for millions of Latino families, this holiday will not be a celebration. It will be a mourning — for the opportunities denied, the futures jeopardized, and the values betrayed.
A Direct Attack on Latino Students and Their Futures
H.R. 1 is not education reform — it’s education sabotage. It dismantles the very policies and programs that have helped Latino students and first-generation families succeed. Among its most damaging provisions:
Slashing Higher Education Support
  • Eliminates income-driven student loan repayment plans, forcing Latino students — many of whom are the first in their families to attend college — into higher monthly payments and longer debt timelines.
  • Cuts federal loans for graduate students and caps borrowing, making advanced degrees out of reach for thousands.
  • Guts funding for first-generation college access programs, including TRIO and GEAR UP, which are essential for students navigating college without family experience or financial support.
Undermining K–12 Public Education
  • Creates a massive federal voucher scheme that takes billions from public schools and sends them to private schools — often out of reach for Latino families and free from accountability.
  • Cuts billions from the U.S. Department of Education, threatening after-school programs, bilingual education, and special education services that serve millions of Latino students.
Devaluing Early Childhood Education
  • Bans federal student loans for early childhood educators — a field where Latinas make up a large percentage of the workforce — under the false claim that low wages equal low value.
  • Cuts to Medicaid and SNAP will drive many early educators — 43% of whom rely on food assistance — out of the field, reducing quality and access for Latino children.
Crippling Latino Family Support
  • Caps the Child Tax Credit at $2,200, and excludes 2.6 million U.S. citizen Latino children because their parents are undocumented.
  • Slashes SNAP and school meal programs, affecting over 13 million children, many in Latino-majority school districts.
  • Cuts over $1 trillion from health programs, threatening insurance coverage for more than 4 million Latinos — the largest coverage loss in the community’s history.
Not Just a Policy — A Message
This bill doesn’t just take away resources. It sends a message: that Latino children don’t matter. That their education, their dreams, and their families are expendable.
“This is the Great American Heist,” said Denise Forte, CEO of The Education Trust. “It robs students and families of financial aid, healthcare, food, and the promise of a better life. It puts the American Dream out of reach for those working hardest to achieve it.”
“The House has chosen cruelty over compassion,” added Janet Murguía, President of UnidosUS. “They have turned their backs on Latino families who trusted them to lead with integrity.”
But Here’s What They Can’t Take
They cannot take the truth that Latino families have always fought for liberty — and continue to fight for it every day.
We fight for our kids to go further than we did.
We fight to keep them healthy, fed, and educated — even when the system works against us.
We know that our labor, our love, and our hope have built this country — and we will continue to build a better one.
This Fourth of July, We Remember What We’re Fighting For
  • Liberty that includes indigenous and immigrant families, not just the privileged.
  • Education that uplifts every child, not just the wealthy.
  • A future where our children can dream without fear — and thrive with dignity.
Stay safe, comunidad. Stay strong. Stay vocal.
We will not forget this betrayal. And we will not stop fighting.
¡La lucha sigue!

Tuesday, October 29, 2024

Could Trump’s Controversial Remarks Cost Him 2024 Election? Latino Experts Weigh In!

Friends,

I really liked this Sunday, October 27th interview on Buelna News involving Drs. Alvarao Huerta and Fernando Guerra. It's cool to have a level-headed conversation of the Latino vote in light of the appalling racism exhibited by Trump and his supporters. 

For a look at the latest anti-Latino rhetoric mixed with other racist, misogynistic rude, and crude disgusting remarks that were spewed at Trump's rally at Sunday's Madison Square Rally, check out my earlier post titled, Puerto Rico is No Joke: A response to the racist remarks made by Tony Hinchcliffe. And let's not forget the F***ing Mexican remark Trump made in reference to providing funeral support that he promised to Vanessa Guillen's family whose daughter, was viciously murdered on a military base in Killeen, Texas, where she worked as a member of the military. 

Geez, the beloved Vanessa Guillen was a F***ing Mexican to him?!!! What a creep! In any case, Trump's F***ing Mexican comment motivated this "Tacos and Law" conversation hosted by Gabriel Buelna that you can follow on Tik-Tok and Youtube. Will have to check them out more as they're covering important topics and sharing great Mexican food recipes (on Tik Tok). A bonus!😺

Huerta and Guerra dove into the idea of Latino males supporting Trump. First of all, what should not get misconstrued according to Dr. Guerra is that most Latinos actually support Harris. There is interesting detail nevertheless to Latino support for Trump. One is that at the national level, we witness a dynamic of assimilation by not pushing ethnic politics. I would call this a process of "acting white." Doing so is harder at the local level where ethnicity plays out differently.

Though not addressed, it presumably means that ethnicity is an identity and resource that those interested in politics must marshall. A third important and super interesting to me dynamic is that Latinos have a long history of being conservative such as in their opposition to abortion. Drilling down further, within this conservative group are people from Latin American countries with right-wing leadership who come to the U.S. and become conservative.

Dr. Huerta said "some are confused" and this is probably true in every election where the candidates
are examined closely and are or are not trusted. He also said that we shouldn't "vilify" them as a consequence. I totally agree. We must always be respectful, especially since not all have the same knowledge base even where shared values exist. Dr. Guerra pointed to the working class makeup of the Latino community and said that Latinas and Latinos should support Harris because she will be better for the working class than Trump.

I'm most concerned about the very real possibility of a segment of Blacks or Latinos hating who they are—perhaps unknowingly—in the quest either for acceptance by whites or for a white identity itself. 

Clearly, this is a process that immigrants like Trump himself and his family have gone through such that they can be—neither immigrants nor the children of immigrants that they are—but rather "white people," even to the point of denying one's immigrant identity. But then this makes sense, too, since one cannot be easily hateful or spiteful toward a group that one maligns if one belongs to it.

Great interview! Loved the conversation. You can view it here for yourselves if you like.

-Angela Valenzuela

759 views Oct 27, 2024 LOS ANGELES






Friday, October 02, 2020

Inaugural Essay to a Blog Column authored by Itzel G. Garcia titled, "Weaving Healing in Spaces of Latinx Vulnerability"

It gives me great pleasure to introduce Itzel Guadalupe Garcia, 25 years old, an original thinker and gifted writer, published author, educator, and healer from the U.S.-Mexico border of South Texas and Tamaulipas. She has a B.A. in Journalism from the University of Texas at Austin and currently works as program coordinator for Academia Cuauhtli/Cuauhtli Academy, a language and cultural revitalization Saturday school in Austin, Texas.

Itzel has performed her poetry, short stories, and astrological-spiritual theories around academic and community spaces from Austin to Corpus Christi, to the U.S.-Mexico border, and Mexico City. In the current context of COVID and pejorative anti-Latina/o  rhetoric, policies, and politics, this column helps to fulfill her dream of weaving healing in spaces of Latinx vulnerability. 

Hence the title of her series to this blog is "Weaving Healing in Spaces of Latinx Vulnerability." Her introductory essay below is titled, "A Historical Moment of Dream Remembering: Returning Education to Rootedness." 

I am confident that you will enjoy her writings as much as we all do at Academia Cuauhtli.  Bienvenida!  Welcome, Itzel! Your soulful, powerful voice, poetry, and prose are much needed for our Latinx youth, and youth of color, generally, in these trying times.

-Angela Valenzuela

A Historical Moment of Dream Remembering: Returning Education to Rootedness


by


Itzel Guadalupe Garcia


    

      In the midst of the 2020 COVID19 pandemic, I return to the border to be with my family after they were violently sacked from our home in Ejido San Francisco, an agricultural community in Tamaulipas, Mexico. This is my historical moment as the U.S. is also impacted by the virus, by climate change, government, police and structural racist violence. Returning to Tamaulipas and being able to help my family after criminal violence returns me to my purpose as an educator, writer and healer. 

      I define historical moment as dualistic and holistic. Dualistic because it brings both death and creation. And holistic because it is frozen in time, collectively felt, experienced, perceived, analyzed, and processed by everyone and is thusly, irrevocable, altering the course of history. 

    In its life-creating phase, a historical moment has the power to influence the patterns of an era. It is historical because it exists in the Future; that is we have the capacity to accept change and let it shape the future in powerful ways. History is given a human status of remembering within the collective stories we are repeating to each other every day, they affect not only the core values of a society and groups of people, but also manifestations, creations by the individual and collective. The intentions are monumental. History is the creation of a collective dream. 

      So what dream are we dreaming? But one of Death. A dream where George Floyd is murdered, where Breonna Taylor is not only murdered but completely deceived from justice even after death, where immigrant women experience hysterectomies in the hands of ICE, a dream where the system is no longer sustainable emotionally, environmentally, financially, or psychologically. In its “deathening” phases, destruction—facing up to loss and a virus that is a reminiscent of the continuous relationship to ego and fear we experience in a capitalistic community, and social-institutional structures. At this point, element and individual have bounded with all that is public and political: environment and politics, both falling, both incinerating. 

      Despite this, within her own creation of life, death leads to rebirth, to creativity, and to life. This essay argues the potential to shift the historical paradigm through redefining our own historical moment, our roots, home and personal history. 

      I grew up in the elements, in la tierra, la siembra, el rio y el sol. Every morning, we would get up at sunrise. The sun would rise by our bedroom window where I slept with my grandmother and grandfather and set in our garden. The Moon would make her journey contrary to the Sun, starting from our garden and ending in our sleep. I knew the changes of the seasons meant different cycles for la siembra, for the crops, for the labor, where my great-grandfather and my grandfather would grow maiz, sorgo and calabazas. This was the wisdom that surrounded and educated who I was, Itzel. 

      As a young girl empath, I loved my community and the rhythms of nature and nurturing my community was teaching me. But within my community, I observed a need, which developed into a dream. I saw my community needed to resources and therefore needed a good school. There was a school. And I loved it in theory. I loved my teachers and wrote them letters. I occupied the first place in my class, and often held the Mexican flag when we practiced la escolta. I remember playing teacher under my grandmother’s orange trees. 

      But I wasn’t interested in math, and history seemed unsatisfactory. I was interested in creating stories, drawing paper goddesses and revealing in the imaginary senses. I realized that a school where children could be free and happy would radically transform my community.

      With time and through oppression, I forgot my dream. It remained hidden from me until adulthood. My desires had transformed as I moved through an American capitalist-education. I went from loving my community school, to a gringo fourth-grade class where I felt different from other children, inferior for not speaking English. I didn’t belong; so I competed twice as hard. 

      Until I found myself in Austin, studying journalism because I was discouraged from everything that gave me pleasure: Literature, Law, Justice. I graduated without pleasure, I didn’t even attend my own graduation. I was aware I was the first person and woman from my family who had graduated from a university, but I did not care. I was busy pursuing a romantic relationship that broke all of my senses, my mind, my spirit. 

      It wasn’t until 2016, that I applied for a position as a teaching artist with Creative Action, an after-school, non-profit organization. I didn’t know what else to do with my diploma. And this was like giving myself permission to learn what it is I had forgotten. That I loved school and childhood and creativity. It also didn’t matter that I had a diploma. I didn’t want to be anything in the world—but a teaching artist. I didn’t know what a teaching artist needed to be. 

      Teaching Artist was the first evolution of my childhood dream, but I would quickly move into further understanding of myself with Academia Cuauhtli. In the beginning of 2020, I was hired as program coordinator for Academia Cuauhtli—this was the official start of my historical moment.

      Cuauhtli would teach me that the roles of teachers, families, academics, community leaders, children and indigenous elders could all bloom every Saturday, a grand ritual being passed down. Every Saturday a historical moment for me. Every Saturday, the Sun rising to noon, the Eagle flying, gaining perspective, the ancestor returning with memories and gifts of the past, of what could be brought back from the dead. 

      This idea—that the dead, children and memory were intercepted had appeared in one of my dreams. In my dream, I was a teacher for a group of students. One of them asked me, “Ms. Itzel, why do you teach us so much about the dead?” And I replied that children were the bridge between the dead and the living. They are the many histories transmuting, remembering, planting seeds and intentions for the future of the ancestors, of the world. I was teaching children how to recover their ancestral memory by communicating with the dead/ dead energies. 

      At a time, where COVID19 has killed millions of people all over the world, and affected families, communities, nations, things I’m not even accounting for, but especially the way COVID19 has affected the Earth and the ancestors, too—there is a need that will become a dream. The need to grief, to learn to change, to learn that death can be symbol for outer and inner death. 

      Cuauhtli has especially taught me the tools of empowerment that can be replicated to foster space and nurturing to our past ancestors: radical and conscious education. Not just for children—but for the community. The role of the teacher becomes overburdened if the parents/family/society of the child are teaching the opposite values and opinions. Similarly, school becomes oppressive when it is not expressing the familial and cultural values of the student.  When these two forces contradict each other, when education no longer services the Future, it has lost its path. 

      In the year 2020, returning home is both holistic and dualistic, between the inner self and our outer environment, community and political structure. I offer these childhood dreams and ideas that have remained dormant within me for years. There is hope in transforming education to service not only the minds of children, but the past and history through the homes and families of our children. I don’t just think this is symbolism, but the radical notion that life may exist for 500 years more and what will survive should be the best of us so that it has the most hopeful potential of thriving.


Saturday, February 08, 2020

The Brutal History of Anti-Latino Discrimination in America: School segregation, lynchings and mass deportations of Spanish-speaking U.S. citizens are just some of the injustices Latinos have faced


Read about important history that helps to explain the vexed relationship that exists between the U.S. Mexican and broader Latino, community in the U.S. today.  It is clearly linked to a history of violent, U.S. expansionism that continues in the symbolic realm as evidenced in the systemic subjugation of this knowledge of our history that could actually shed enormous light on our political and policy struggles today.
I would only amend this piece to point out that at its base—and the use of the generic term, "Latino," notwithstanding—this reflects a continuation of a history of violence against peoples native to this continent.  These invasions resulted in the elimination of our native names, languages, and identities, resulting in an imposition of European ones and to a degree that is so profound that we often fail as native peoples to acknowledge this.  Moreover, the system has succeeded and continues to dominate us if we think critically in these ways.
I say all of this as we begin our danza Mexican curriculum this morning at Academia Cuauhtli at the Emma S. Barrientos Mexican American Cultural Center in Austin, Texas.
-Angela Valenzuela

#BrownContinent  #Decolonize #decolonization #mexicamovement #INDIGENOUS #lies #CritcalThinking #EthnicStudiesNow #danzaMexica


UPDATED:
AUG 29, 2018
ORIGINAL:
SEP 27, 2017

The Brutal History of Anti-Latino Discrimination in America

School segregation, lynchings and mass deportations of Spanish-speaking U.S. citizens are just some of the injustices Latinos have faced.
Olvera Street is a Los Angeles icon—a thriving Mexican market filled with colorful souvenirs, restaurants and remnants of the oldest buildings in Los Angeles. But though the bright tourist destination teems with visitors, few realize it was once the site of a terrifying raid.
In 1931, police officers grabbed Mexican-Americans in the area, many of them U.S. citizens, and shoved them into waiting vans. Immigration agents blocked exits and arrested around 400 people, who were then deported to Mexico, regardless of their citizenship or immigration status.
The raid was just one incident in a long history of discrimination against Latino people in the United States. Since the 1840s, anti-Latino prejudice has led to illegal deportations, school segregation and even lynching—often-forgotten events that echo the civil-rights violations of African-Americans in the Jim Crow-era South.
The story of Latino-American discrimination largely begins in 1848, when the United States won the Mexican-American War. The Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, which marked the war’s end, granted 55 percent of Mexican territory to the United States. With that land came new citizens. The Mexicans who decided to stay in what was now U.S. territory were granted citizenship and the country gained a considerable Mexican-American population.
As the 19th century wore on, political events in Mexico made emigration to the United States popular. This was welcome news to American employers like the Southern Pacific Railroad, which desperately needed cheap labor to help build new tracks. The railroad and other companies flouted existing immigration laws that banned importing contracted labor and sent recruiters into Mexico to convince Mexicans to emigrate.
Anti-Latino sentiment grew along with immigration. Latinos were barred entry into Anglo establishments and segregated into urban barrios in poor areas. Though Latinos were critical to the U.S. economy and often were American citizens, everything from their language to the color of their skin to their countries of origin could be used as a pretext for discrimination. Anglo-Americans treated them as a foreign underclass and perpetuated stereotypes that those who spoke Spanish were lazy, stupid and undeserving. In some cases, that prejudice turned fatal.
According to historians William D. Carrigan and Clive Webb, mob violence against Spanish-speaking people was common in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. They estimate that the number of Latinos killed by mobs reach well into the thousands, though definitive documentation only exists for 547 cases.
The violence began during California’s Gold Rush just after California became part of the United States. At the time, white miners begrudged former Mexicans a share of the wealth yielded by Californian mines—and sometimes enacted vigilante justice. In 1851, for example, a mob of vigilantes accused Josefa Segovia of murdering a white man. After a fake trial, they marched her through the streets and lynched her. Over 2,000 men gathered to watch, shouting racial slurs. Others were attacked on suspicion of fraternizing with white women or insulting white people.
Even children became the victims of this violence. In 1911, a mob of over 100 people hanged a 14-year-old boy, Antonio Gómez, after he was arrested for murder. Rather than let him serve time in jail, townspeople lynched him and dragged his body through the streets of Thorndale, Texas.
These and other horrific acts of cruelty lasted until the 1920s, when the Mexican government began pressuring the United States to stop the violence. But though mob brutality eventually quelled, hatred of Spanish-speaking Americans did not.
In the late 1920s, anti-Mexican sentiment spiked as the Great Depression began. As the stock market tanked and unemployment grew, Anglo-Americans accused Mexicans and other foreigners of stealing American jobs. Mexican-Americans were discouraged and even forbidden from accepting charitable aid.
As fears about jobs and the economy spread, the United States forcibly removed up to 2 million people of Mexican descent from the country—up to 60 percent of whom were American citizens.
Euphemistically referred to as “repatriations,” the removals were anything but voluntary. Sometimes, private employers drove their employees to the border and kicked them out. In other cases, local governments cut off relief, raided gathering places or offered free train fare to Mexico. Colorado even ordered all of its “Mexicans”—in reality, anyone who spoke Spanish or seemed to be of Latin descent—to leave the state in 1936 and blockaded its southern border to keep people from leaving. Though no formal decree was ever issued by immigration authorities, INS officials deported about 82,000 people during the period.
The impact on Spanish-speaking communities was devastating. Some light-skinned Mexican-Americans attempted to pass themselves off as Spanish, not Mexican, in an attempt to evade enforcement. People with disabilities and active illnesses were removed from hospitals and dumped at the border. As one victim of “repatriation” told Raymond Rodriguez, who wrote a history of the period, Decade of Betrayal, “They might as well have sent us to Mars.”
Others, like Rodriguez’s father, did not wait for raids or enforcement and returned to Mexico independently to escape discrimination and the fear of removal. His wife refused to accompany him and the family never saw him again.
When deportations finally ended around 1936, up to 2 million Mexican-Americans had been “repatriated.” (Because many of the repatriation attempts were informal or conducted by private companies, it is nearly impossible to quantify the exact number of people who were deported.) Around one third of Los Angeles’ Mexican population left the country, as did a third of Texas’ Mexican-born population. Though both the state of California and the city of Los Angeles apologized for repatriation in the early 2000s, the deportations have largely faded from public memory.
Another little-remembered facet of anti-Latino discrimination in the United States is school segregation. Unlike the South, which had explicit laws barring African-American children from white schools, segregation was not enshrined in the laws of the southwestern United States. Nevertheless, Latino people were excluded from restaurants, movie theaters and schools.
Latino students were expected to attend separate “Mexican schools” throughout the southwest beginning in the 1870s. At first, the schools were set up to serve the children of Spanish-speaking laborers at rural ranches. Soon, they spread into cities, too.
By the 1940s, as many as 80 percent of Latino children in places like Orange County, California attended separate schools. Among them was Sylvia Mendez, a young girl who was turned away from an all-white school in the county. Instead of going to the pristine, well-appointed 17th Street Elementary, she was told to attend Hoover Elementary—a dilapidated, two-room shack.
U.S. President Barack Obama presenting the 2010 Medal of Freedom to Sylvia Mendez, a civil-rights activist of Mexican and Puerto Rican descent. At age 8, Mendez played a pivotal role in a 1946 landmark court case that desegregated California schools. (Credit: Tim Sloan/AFP/Getty Images)
Tim Sloan/AFP/Getty Images

The bare-bones facilities offered to students like Mendez lacked basic supplies and sufficient teachers. Many only provided vocational classes or did not offer a full 12 years of instruction. Children were arbitrarily forced to attend based on factors like their complexion and last name.
Then Mendez’s parents fought back. In 1945, along with four other families, they filed a class action lawsuit against four Orange County school districts. Their goal: Ensure that all children could attend California schools regardless of race.
The case culminated in a two-week-long trial. In court, school officials claimed that Latino students were dirty and infected with diseases that put white students at risk. Besides, they argued, Mexican-American students didn’t speak English and were thus not entitled to attend English-speaking schools. (When asked, officials conceded that they never gave students proficiency tests.) “Mexicans are inferior in personal hygiene, ability and in their economic outlook,” said one official.
Mendez’s attorney countered with testimony from experts in social science. He argued that the policy trampled on Latino children’s Constitutional rights. When Carol Torres, a 14-year-old Latino girl, took the stand, she immediately proved that Mexican-American students in the district could and did speak English.
It took seven months for Judge Paul J. McCormick to render a decision. On February 18, 1946, he ruled that the school districts discriminated against Mexican-American students and violated their Constitutional rights. Though the school districts challenged the ruling, the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals agreed with McCormick. Thanks to Mendez v. Westminster School District, California officially ended all segregation in its schools.
Mendez, who was eight when the lawsuits began, later told reporters that she thought her parents were fighting for her right to attend a school with a nice playground. But the case accomplished much more than that. Soon, parents in Texas and Arizona successfully challenged school segregation. In 1954, a decade after Mendez was turned away from the whites-only elementary school, the United States Supreme Court ruled that all school segregation based on race was unconstitutional in Brown v. Board of Education.
Though the case was a victory for the Mendez family, Sylvia was harassed and heckled by her fellow students when she attended the white school. Nonetheless, she pushed to succeed and became a nurse and civil-rights activist. She was awarded a Presidential Medal of Freedom in 2010—and now, two Los Angeles-area schools are named after her parents.
Today, an estimated 54 million Latinos live in the U.S. and around 43 million people speak Spanish. But though Latinos are the country’s largest minority, anti-Latino prejudice is still common. In 2016, 52 percent of Latinos surveyed by Pew said they had experienced discrimination. Lynchings, “repatriation” programs and school segregation may be in the past, but anti-Latino discrimination in the U.S. is far from over.
TAGS
BY
·     
·        
FACT CHECK: We strive for accuracy and fairness. But if you see something that doesn't look right, click here to contact us!