Despite the respected mythos of the immigrant journey, a new strain of xenophobia threatens to blunt Latino contributions to culture, industry and academia. Safeguarding these contributions requires a renewed respect for the United States principle of diversity and tolerance.
As the presidential race began to heat up in late 2023, New Hampshire residents packed into a crammed hall to witness then-candidate Donald Trump make his case for the Republican primary election. With cheers and chants of “we love you” from the crowd, he railed against former President Joe Biden’s handling of Ukraine, Afghanistan and green energy.
Then, he turned to immigration, and uttered a phrase that immediately set off alarm bells. In reference to immigrants from South America, he stated, “They’re poisoning the blood of our country.” This phrase echoes the racist rhetoric of 20th century eugenicists, and marked a sharp increase in the vitriol used by the Trump campaign against Latino immigrants.
This message became increasingly hostile in the leadup to the general election, with Trump referring to immigrants as “an army of illegal alien gang members and migrant criminals from the dungeons of the third world.” This narrative dominated the election, and resonated with U.S. residents desperate for someone to blame after the economic aftermath of the Covid-19 pandemic.
Since the election, the Trump administration has been just as ferocious as their messaging suggested. They’ve gone after immigrants in every aspect of life, including workplaces and schools, in an effort to make life unlivable for groups considered undesirable by the administration.
These policies reach beyond known undocumented immigrants, with Trump administration lawyers arguing for the racial profiling and detention of anyone even suspected of being in the U.S. illegally, stating “Apparent ethnicity can be a factor supporting reasonable suspicion.”
In education, the Trump administration has removed grant funding for over 500 universities deemed Hispanic-Serving and leaned heavily on states to remove in-state tuition classifications for undocumented immigrants, including Florida and Texas.
These actions and many more like them suggest a goal of self removal of any Latino citizen or noncitizen from public life, including city streets, workplaces and higher education. This harassment campaign rests on a false narrative of Latinos and a fundamentally anti-U.S. worldview.
In 1913, on orders from the Governor, Texas Rangers rode up to the doors of “El Progreso,” a progressive newspaper, seeking to shut down the publication after a critical article of President Woodrow Wilson. Seasoned journalist and activist Jovita Idar was all that stood in the way. After writing for her father’s publication, teaching for several years and journeying to Mexico as a nurse during the Mexican Revolution, she was well equipped to stand up for her rights.
Her actions that day turned away the Rangers and allowed the paper to continue publishing, protecting the freedom of the press. They later returned and destroyed their printing press, prompting Idar to return to “La Crónica,” her father’s publication, as editor-in-chief following his death.
There she fought for the advancement of Mexican Americans and women’s suffrage, publishing articles and convening groups to provide local services. She remained an activist and philanthropist her whole life, opening a free preschool and translating for Spanish speaking patients in county hospitals until her death in 1946.
Born on Jan. 31, 1929 to Mexican American parents, Richard Cavazos followed in his fathers footsteps as a cattle rancher from a young age. Learning tenacity and responsibility, he fought through the intense racism of the time to attend Texas Tech University on a football scholarship. Cavazos then graduated from the Reserve Officers’ Training Corps program and was soon deployed to Korea in 1953 as a platoon leader.
The 65th Infantry Regiment, which was mainly made up of Puerto Rican soldiers, had been in Korea since the start of the war. Since many only spoke Spanish, the bilingual Cavazos was a welcome change of pace from the other commanders who only spoke English. It was his unique bravery in this role that earned him a Silver Star and the Distinguished Service cross.
He made history during his storied Army career by being the first appointed Hispanic brigadier general and later four star general. He was beloved by his soldiers and seen as a role model and mentor.
Remembering Cavazos, Maj. Gen. Alfred Valenzuela said, “we all looked up to him as an American soldier, a Hispanic soldier. He was the guy we wanted to be. If we couldn’t be him, we wanted to be near him and serve with him.” Posthumously, Cavazos received the Medal of Honor through his daughter, and had Fort Hood renamed after him. However, the Trump Administration has since reverted the fort to its original name.
Joseph and Roseanne Ochoa raised their family in La Mesa, California. The son of Mexican immigrants, Joseph Ochoa faced discrimination as a child and wanted to protect his own children from the same treatment. They both valued education, so when their daughter Ellen Ochoa was born in 1958, Roseanne Ochoa chose to start college.
With the pragmatic example of her parents, Ellen Ochoa graduated from high school as valedictorian. She went on to study physics at San Diego State University, turning down a full ride scholarship from Stanford to stay close to her family. Graduating again as valedictorian, she decided to take Stanford up on their offer and pursue her Masters in engineering.
After going on to earn her doctoral degree, Ellen Ochoa was inspired to become an astronaut. She was rejected several times, and instead developed computer systems for space travel until she became a team leader overseeing 35 scientists for NASA.
It was in this role Ellen Ochoa gained the connections to apply again to become an astronaut. This time, she succeeded, and in 1993 became the first Latina to go to space. Conducting research missions and resupply runs to the International Space Station, Ellen Ochoa gained the knowledge to become the first Hispanic director of the Johnson Space Center from 2013 to 2018. She served as the chair of the National Science Board from 2020 to 2022.
These exemplary individuals embody the Hispanic contribution to the U.S. Being children or grandchildren of immigrants, they leveraged the sacrifices of their family to achieve great things for themselves and their country, even in the face of open hostility and discrimination. The promise of a better life was evident, and they worked tirelessly to achieve it.
The current political moment is not new. Bigotry comes in waves as people forget and relearn the lessons of the past. For this reason, Hispanic representation has never been more important in all aspects of life. Relaying the stories of Idar, Cavazos, Ellen Ochoa and so many others like them should be an essential part of telling the U.S.’ national story.
Representation works as a feedback loop. It decreases prejudice through exposure and cements itself by fostering more representation in a less prejudiced world. This starts best in college where students’ worldviews are still forming and there is open communication about ideas.
The more Hispanic professors, students, classes and stories that become implemented in academia now, the less systemic barriers there will be for Hispanic professionals in the future. Though bigotry may still rear its head in short cycles, in the long run, this representation will lead to a U.S. more emblematic of its ideals.
