Impact
In The Community
Years ago, during a Democracy in Color podcast appearance, I had a conversation with then-host Aimee Allison about my adolescent years growing up in a single-parent, low-income household and the challenges that came with it. My story is well-documented, having told it time and time again for almost a decade, but during this interview, it was different.
For the first time during an interview, Host Aimee Alison interrupted me when I was describing my time in the juvenile justice system.
Normally, in our sound-bite world, I try to get through that part of my life as quickly as possible while still keeping it substantive enough to make my point. The interviewers are happy to oblige the quick pace. But this time around, Aimee said to me, “I want to go back to those cinder-block walls.” For a moment, I was startled but then also hesitant.
At that point in my career, I had talked often about what it was like to be treated like just another number going through the criminal justice system, what it was like to be treated like discarded, worthless cattle to be identified, recorded, and cataloged. But I had never really talked about it, and surprisingly, or maybe not surprisingly, I found it profoundly difficult to do.
The School to Prison Pipeline
I was 12 when I was first tracked into the juvenile justice system — just a little girl, as Aimee pointed out. It started out with acting out behavior like ditching school, shoplifting, and running away as a result of not understanding what was going on at home. Not understanding why my dad beat my mom, and understanding, even at the age of 9 when this was happening, that she had to leave, but never understanding why she chose not to come back for us like she said she would.
I was a good kid. I got good grades. I was in gifted and talented education and even made 1st chair in the orchestra. But my young mind concluded that my mom simply didn’t want me, or my baby brothers, and I didn’t understand why. So I ran away from home. I cut classes. I shoplifted. I turned to the only form of stability that made sense at the time that was available to me— gangs.
The circumstances of my young life were less than ideal — and I say that from the perspective that even though I experienced trauma that no young person should ever know, I also recognize that there are hundreds of thousands of young people who have experienced and are currently experiencing, much deeper and troubling trauma than I ever did. Much like these kids who are growing up in environments that are over-policed and under-resourced, when I cut classes and ran away from home and was caught, the police could have taken me back to school, or done any number of things, but instead, they handcuffed me, threw me in the back of the police car, and took me straight to juvenile detention.
The staff at the detention center could have done any number of things, but instead, I was processed like everyone else was — from murderers to curfew violators, the process was the same. Every last point of contact in the justice system could have done something differently if, in fact, they thought of the children going through the system as young kids with their own stories instead of just files to process.
The process can vary from place to place, bur normally, when you arrive at juvenile detention facility, you're placed in a holding area. Cinderblock walls and cold cinderblock benches line the room. Once someone is available, you're pulled out and taken to a desk where you're fingerprinted, photographed for your mug shot, and asked various intake questions. If you’re lucky and your parents can pick you up quickly, you sit in the holding room until someone picks you up.
I can’t remember a time when those rooms weren’t ice cold—and good luck if you got a blanket. Asking for some comfort never worked. It’s like the rooms were designed to be ice-cold torture rooms, and the staff were happy to carry out the mission. Most of the time my dad couldn’t be reached to pick me up, and when too much time passed, you were changed into an orange or tan inmate jumpsuit in preparation for a longer-term stay. That meant they had to inventory your belongings and strip search you.
The Trauma that Endures
I remember being strip searched. I was old enough to know that my body was private but not old enough to have much to be private about. Another cinder block room and cold floors. “Take off your clothes.” “Hand them to me.” “Do you have any contraband?” “Put these clothes on.” “We’ll be back to get you.” Metal fortified door slammed shut. The slam reverberates.
The process of being institutionalized does something to you. It chips away at your sense of self. Your sense of humanity. Slowly but surely your status begins to feel less than human. Some would argue that it’s supposed to be that way. Some would argue that it’s supposed to be uncomfortable and traumatic. Others would argue and demonstrate that harsh treatment and out-of-home placement of young offenders fails to produce positive outcomes for offending youth. In fact, decades of research prove that our tough on crime policies that produced a generation of felons and shot the U.S. to the number one global spot in prison population are actually costing usmore money and producing less societal benefits.
But statistics and policy aside, how much time do we spend talking about, and thinking about the day-to-day decisions that could possibly change the outcome of the lives of the people who are going through our system? How often do we hear about the prosecutor who treated the defendant like a human being with dignity instead of labeling them “bad guys” before they even got a hearing? How often do we think about the extenuating circumstances of offenders before we assume that all forays into the justice system are as simple as good choice vs. bad choice? How often does the media cover crime stories in the context of indicators that predict a child’s life outcomes? Not often at all.
Why? Because we live in a sound bite world. We live in a world where even my own story has been whittled down to a feel-good, pick yourself up by your bootstraps (a terrible saying, that by literal definition is impossible to do), good ‘ole American success story. A story where “personal responsibility” reigns supreme.
The Bootstrap Myth
In response to the potential for “personal responsibility” co-opting, I spend a lot of time highlighting the decision that my parole officer made not to revoke my parole and send me back into the system that chewed me up and spit me back out many times over. I spend a lot of time highlighting the resource and time investment that people made in me plusmy own desire to break the cycle I finally realized I was in.
I do that because it’s honest.
It’s also the situation that so many young people and adults are facing every day as they churn through our modern justice (or more accurately, injustice) system. Almost no one wakes up one day with no support, intervention, or mentorship and says to themselves, today is the day I become someone else.
We are in dire need of systemic change to our criminal justice system, but we are also in dire need of decent human beings who have the courage and compassion to treat arrestees (because yes, everyone is supposed to be innocent until proven guilty) and offenders like human beings. My parole officer had no idea that when she took into account my abysmal life circumstances and made the decision to give me another chance, she extended me another lease on life. She had no idea that I would end up writing this piece from a scenic waterfront cafe as I sip on coffee and contemplate my thoughts in the serenity of the flowing river and the cool passing breeze.
The coolness of the passing breeze couldn’t be more different than the harsh cold of the cinder block bench surrounded by the cinder block walls that once confined me - a memory that will plague me forever. How many others could also be in different situations if only someone had shown them some compassion and understanding, as my parole officer showed me? What might possibly become of this family after Judge Amber Wolf decided to let this defendant see his newborn baby while in court despite the no-contact order in place?
Time will tell, but if you asked my parole officer 25 years ago what she thought was going to happen to me after she decided to give me a chance, she probably wouldn’t have described my waterfront location or the list of honorifics that precede my name. "Inmate" would have been the likeliest guest by expectation standards. “Inmate” certainly would have been what most people I encountered would have guessed — and that's the crux of the problem.
We can expect more from our kids who are in troubled conditions when we meet our duty to change those conditions. Expecting change without this means we will just continue to let our children's futures waste away, creating a societal expense that's so vast it can't even be quantified.
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In a new summer series, “Latinas Who Lead,” we’re highlighting Latinas who are at the forefront of social justice movements in the United States, advocating for change and equality in many different ways. From civil rights to environmental justice to entrepreneurial equity, you can bet passionate Latinas are making a significant impact in their communities and beyond. To give them well-deserved recognition and offer sources of inspiration for your own advocacy and activism, here are the first 5 Latina leaders in our series:
Marisa Franco
Photography courtesy of Marisa Franco
Marisa Franco is a prominent Latino rights advocate and community organizer based in Phoenix, Arizona who fights for immigrant rights. She’s known for organizing campaigns and protests against deportations, detention centers, and discriminatory immigration policies, such as the #Not1MoreDeportation campaign back in 2014. She’s also the co-founder of Mijente, an online organization that serves Latino and Chicano activists, helping them organize their efforts to dismantle systems of injustice and inequity.
The organization has achieved some significant gains against the prison industrial complex, which makes billions of dollars a year through the mass incarceration of Americans and immigrants. Their #notechforice campaign addresses the predatory ways tech companies are making millions of dollars by violating civil rights and allows communities to support the efforts through petitions and other easy actions. They also have a petition tool where anyone can start their own petition for a cause they want to support.
Alejandra Gómez
Photography shared by ywcaaz.org
As a daughter of Mexican immigrant parents, Alejandra Gómez realized very early on how broken the U.S. immigration system is. This planted the seed of passionate activism that eventually led her to become one of a cadre of highly effective and dedicated Latina community organizers in the state of Arizona.
In the wake of the disastrous SB1070 law in 2010, known as the “show me your papers” law, that allowed Arizona law enforcement to stop and detain anyone at all just for “appearing” to be in the U.S. without proper documentation, Gómez joined thousands of activists who refused to allow her community to be terrorized by the state. The law was partially struck down just two years after then-Governor Jan Brewer signed the bill into law.
Gómez continued to focus her efforts on immigration rights and community justice and helped organize large-scale efforts to empower Latinos to vote and understand that when enough people come together, their collective actions are powerful and influential.
As the Executive Director of the Arizona Center for Empowerment and LUCHA, she’s been involved in many high-profile community wins, including the ousting of controversial Sherrif Joe Arpaio. More recently, through organizing efforts, she helped get abortion protections on the 2024 ballot and helped secure 150 million dollars for the Arizona Trust Fund to address the affordable housing crisis.
Ana María Archila
Photography courtesy of Ana María Archila
Ana María Archila, of Colombian descent, got a lot of national attention back in 2018 during the confirmation hearings for Supreme Court Justice Brett Kavanaugh when she confronted Senator Jeff Flake in an elevator about sexual assault. She’s a dedicated advocate for women’s rights, immigrant rights, worker justice, and LGBTQ rights. She leans heavily on political engagement and grassroots organizing to empower immigrant communities, low-income communities, and women of color.
She’s led several national organizations, including the Center for Popular Democracy and Make the Road New York, where she significantly increased the influence and presence of their members across the United States. As if that wasn’t enough, she ran for Lt. Governor of New York in 2022.
Archilla is now the Co-Director of the New York Working Families Party, where she’s focused on building a multiracial working people’s political party that can enact an agenda that creates real material change for working people in the U.S.
Carmen Perez
Photography shared by gatheringforjustice.org
Carmen Perez is a Chicana feminist and a devoted activist fighting for civil rights, women’s rights, gender equity, community policing, violence prevention, and more. She’s the CEO of The Gathering for Justice, a nonprofit focused on ending child incarceration and the racial disparities that plague the criminal justice system in the U.S. Perez was also one of the co-chairs of the 2017 Women’s March, the largest single-day protest in the history of the country for women’s rights. Women’s March continues to this day, organizing events around the country to create change.
Raised in Oxnard, California, she frequently returns to her roots to help lead or participate in community events that empower local youth and adults alike. She recently told the VC Star, “Good trouble is when you are out there with people that you love making sure that justice prevails.” She punctuated the words with a laugh. “I find myself getting into good trouble often.”
Cristina Tzintzún Ramirez
Photography courtesy of Cristina Tzintzún Ramirez
As the co-founder of the Workers Defense Project and founder of Jolt, Cristina Tzintzún Ramirez has been a tireless advocate for the rights of immigrant workers and Latino youth her entire adult career. Her activism is focused not only on immigrant rights but also on voting rights, universal healthcare, climate change, economic justice, fair wages, fair working conditions, and more.
She’s led successful campaigns for workers’ protection, immigrant rights, and voter mobilization, driving positive change at a local and national level. Many of these campaigns are notable for their creativity and focus on culture. While at Jolt, she helped lead the #PoderQuince campaign, which helped young quinceañeras use their 15th birthday parties as a platform to register and mobilize Latino voters. It’s well known that quinceañera parties are steeped in culture and community, and by leveraging these gatherings, they were able to register and activate tens of thousands of new Texas voters.
To expand her activism Tzintzún Ramirez co-authored a book, “Presente! Latino Immigrant Voices in the Struggle for Racial Justice” in 2014, and ran for the U.S. Senate in 2020 in her home state of Texas. She’s currently the Executive Director of NextGen America, the nation’s largest youth voting rights organization.
These five Latina activists are contemporary examples of resilience, passion, and dedication. Their efforts are a source of inspiration and empowerment in the Latino community, and they’re leading the next generation of Latinas fighting for justice and equality. Keep an eye out for the next installment in the series and join us in getting to know more of these impactful Latinas.
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College students are rising up across the country to protest the ongoing genocide of the Palestinian people in Gaza and the lack of action from global governments. After the initial October 7th attack on Israeli people that resulted in an estimated 1,200 deaths, an estimated 42,000 Palestinians have been killed in response, with over 15,000 of those killed being children. The Palestinian death toll count is an estimate for various reasons, including an unknown number of bodies that are still under the rubble, decomposing bodies in unsafe areas that can’t be searched, and the lack of access to a government source that can accurately account for Palestinian citizens.
The University of Southern California (USC) protest is one of many now featured in heavy news coverage due to the clashes between students and law enforcement. USC protests first began after the university decided to cancel valedictorian Asna Tabassum’s commencement speech, a student who has been openly pro-Palestine on social media. USC cited safety concerns for the cancellation of the speech; however, the Los Angeles Police Department confirmed to local NPR affiliate “LAist” last week that no crime report had been opened for the threats. USC then went on to cancel the entire main graduation ceremony.
Image shared by abc7newsbayarea on InstagramImage shared by abc7newsbayarea on Instagram
USC also announced a drastic change to the campus-wide commencement ceremony, and it seems that other universities in the U.S. will follow suit, including Princeton University, Emory University, Cornell University, Northwestern University, City College of New York, and George Washington University because students have joined the efforts in calling for a ceasefire and an end to the genocide on Palestinians.
Since Wednesday night, dozens of protesters have been arrested across U.S. universities. At USC, over 90 people were arrested by the LAPD during peaceful protests because they refused to disperse and disband their encampment (up since last week) in Alumni Park, which is where the university’s commencement events take place. Encampment has been an element of many student-led protests sprouting on college campuses all over the country as a quiet means of disruption. USC protesters stood their ground, but arrests eventually started, with LAPD officers zip-tying people and leading them to LAPD vans.
As reported by NPR, arrests have also been made at Princeton University and Emory University, and there has been heavy police presence at Emerson College and the University of Texas, among others. Tensions are rising on college campuses across the nation as students refuse to stay quiet about their activism and their solidarity with the Palestinian people.
A Latino Father Goes Viral
Amidst the chaos of USC protests and the violent reaction of local and campus police forces, a supportive Latino dad emerged as a gold standard for parents everywhere by showing up to support his daughter, one of the protest organizers on campus. While many parents would counsel their children to “mind your own business” or “don’t get involved in things that don’t concern you,” this Latino dad headed to campus and stood by his daughter.
This “don’t ruffle any feathers” approach is particularly pervasive in Latino culture, where it’s common to be taught to keep your head down and not make any waves - “no te metas donde no te llaman” or “no es tu problema” are phrases Latino children hear often.
@holdonnow_ #utaustin
A reporter from ABC7 Los Angeles identified the supportive father as Lazaro Aguero. He confidently stated, “I’m here to support my daughter. She’s studying here, and they’re protesting against a genocide.” He shared that the entire family is against the ongoing genocide and has been aware of his daughter’s efforts on campus.
Aguero also said, “They’re threatening, if we don’t leave the campus we’re going to get arrested. But the students are so brave, look at them, they don’t want to leave the campus.” When asked if he was concerned about his daughter he said, “It does concern me, but my daughter did a right decision. If she rather be arrested fighting for Palestine, I will be the happiest daddy. I will be the happiest daddy if she’s doing the right thing.”
This moving show of support made many Latina daughters proud across social media, and the ABC7 clip quickly went viral. To see a father breaking through machismo beliefs that often lead to controlling behavior and the repression of female power within families was nothing short of awe-inspiring. Thousands of comments can now be found showing the emotional response to seeing a Latino father stand so resolutely by his daughter as she does what so many Latino parents, especially fathers, teach their daughters not to do.
Comment shared by @thedaisyprado on Instagram
Comment shared by @heyberna on Instagram
Many commentators agreed that this viral video served as a reminder not only to other Latino parents but parents across the ethnic spectrum to support their children when they’re putting themselves on the line for acting on their beliefs and seeking change in systems that have been shown to be unjust, unfair, and inequitable.
Comment shared by @melstradamus on Instagram
The younger generation, as evidenced by students across the U.S. who are raising their voices for Palestine, is following their anti-war beliefs and bringing their parents along with them. Where global governments have stayed silent and stayed put, young people are amplifying Palestinian voices and helping mobilize the masses, not just in their communities but also on social media, across all platforms.
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